#i had this song in mind for the longest time at them

[voyter]

DEVOTION — jeon jungkook.

genre. a song of ice and fire au. 103 AC. smut. knight!jungkook. queen!reader.

your knight is completely devoted to you, and while it’s his duty, you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more behind his unwavering loyalty.

word count. 17.1k words (FUCK i am so sorry) warnings. this fic might be a bit confusing if you havent watched game of thrones or house of the dragon !!! misogyny. gender dynamics. seokjin and namjoon cameo hehe. forced / arranged marriage. over protective jungkook <3. cute convo between oc and her husband. violence. mentions of blood and murder. SO MUCH FUCKING TENSION. smut. two sex scenes !! dry humping. oral (male!receiving). unprotected sex (this universe takes place thousands of years ago and condoms didnt exist yet give me a break). bath sex. they almost get caught OOP. cheating (but both parties are consenting and they both openly do it to each other but they dont love each other romantically so its okay i guess) ???? jungkook literally worships her oh im sick i need him.

seven's notes. this fic ended up being much longer than i anticipated but oh my gosh i literally could NOT STOP WRITING !!! this is the longest fic ive ever written hello. this is inspired by alicent and coles relationship in season 2. sorry i hate them but this trope ??? OUUU TOO GOOD. so you know i got inspired. anyways, i love this one so much, so please let me know your thoughts <3. as always, keep your comments positive or say nothing at all xx

listening to. blue jeans by lana del rey / middle of the night by elley duhé / flawless by the neighbourhood

part of the based off film series. this one shot is based off house of the dragon.

You had always hated the idea of marrying someone you didn’t love, but you knew that marriage was not a choice — it was an obligation woven into the fabric of your destiny. Though reluctance filled you at first, you gradually came to terms with your duty, accepting the role thrust upon you with a measure of peace.

House Emberwyn ruled the Seven Kingdoms, making them the most powerful house of all. Your father had forged a deep bond with King Aelyx, the two men connected by the shared grief of losing their wives. Beyond their friendship, your father was adamant that uniting your houses through marriage was crucial. He envisioned a future where the intertwining of two powerful, wealthy legacies would forge an unbreakable realm.

Atticus, the son of King Aelyx, was only a year older than you — making him a suitable match. Like you, he was reluctant to marry, but he, too, understood the importance of duty. He wanted nothing more than to make his father proud, even if it meant sacrificing personal desire.

As the sole heirs of your respective houses, the pressure to produce children was immediate. The act of intimacy with Atticus was never one of passion or love; it was merely another duty. The first time was uncomfortable, almost unbearable, but over time, you learned to tolerate it. This was your life now, dictated by duty rather than desire.

Since your marriage, you have been blessed with three children. Ares, your eldest and only son, was conceived during your bedding ceremony. Now a boy of one and ten, he is wise beyond his years, his sharp mind driven by a deep love for books and knowledge. Celeste, your first daughter, is nine years old — a whirlwind of wild, unrestrained energy that seems impossible to contain. Already, she’s been eagerly awaiting the day she can take to the skies on dragonback, her spirit far older than her years. Then there is Luna, your youngest and newest addition to the family, a radiant little soul who brings warmth and light into every corner of your life. She is the calm of the storm, a small but powerful source of joy that never fails to lift your spirits, no matter how heavy the burdens of the day.

Atticus is a good father, never neglecting his children. He is present in their lives, providing for them with steadfast love and care. As a husband, he is kind and dutiful. Yet, despite all his virtues, he is not the love of your life.

The two of you had come to an agreement early in your marriage: you were free to seek pleasure where you wished, as long as heirs were made with each other. It was a compromise, one that allowed you both to navigate the confines of your duty while maintaining some semblance of personal freedom.

Tragedy struck shortly after Celeste’s birth when King Aelyx succumbed to an unknown illness. The crown passed to Atticus, and with it came the immense burden of ruling the Seven Kingdoms.

With Atticus as king, you became Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, unlike your husband, you did not feel the same pressure. Your days were mostly spent within the confines of your chambers, where the laughter and antics of your children filled your life with light and purpose. Despite never having known your own mother — she had died giving birth to you — you felt as though motherhood had always been your calling.

While you wouldn’t trade your life for anything in the world, motherhood came with its challenges. Ares and Celeste were at the age where they bickered endlessly over the smallest of things — whether it was toys, attention, or simply to see who could get on your nerves first. Their constant squabbles were a source of frustration, and yet you knew it was a phase they would eventually outgrow. Luna, on the other hand, still so small and newly born, could not seem to stop crying. Her wails often filled the castle, and while the maids were always close by, ready to assist, you never allowed them to. You wanted your daughter to find comfort in your arms, not anyone else’s.

There were days when calming her down felt like a losing battle, the hours stretching into what felt like an eternity. But when you finally succeeded, when her cries quieted and her tiny form melted into sleep, it filled you with a sense of accomplishment. It was a small victory in a life full of larger, weightier battles.

Fortunately, today was one of the easier days. Luna wasn’t feeling particularly fussy, and after a few gentle rocks and soft pats on her back, she fell asleep in your arms without much protest. Relief washed over you as you gazed down at her peaceful face, her tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The soft warmth of her against you, the quiet of the room, made you feel like, for a moment, everything was right.

“Your Grace?”

A voice interrupted your quiet reverie, but you didn’t turn. Your eyes remained fixed on Luna, unwilling to break the fragile serenity of the moment. You hummed in response, acknowledging the speaker but unable to tear your gaze from your sleeping daughter.

“Your presence is wanted, though not required, Your Grace.”

The words draw you from your thoughts, and with a soft sigh, you finally turn to face the speaker. It’s the Lord Commander, standing tall and imposing, his armor catching the dim light filtering through the windows.

“What for?” you ask, your voice calm but laced with curiosity.

“The Kingsguard posting,” he replies, his tone formal, as always. “It’s been suggested that you select who will guard the Red Keep.”

You consider his words, your gaze drifting back to Luna, still fast asleep in your arms. The thought of placing your trust in someone else, of relying on others to protect what matters most, brings a weight to your chest. As a mother, your first instinct is always to shield your children. You would want nothing more than for them to roam the castle freely, knowing they were surrounded by those you trusted — those you handpicked.

“I suppose,” you murmur.

After carefully setting Luna in her crib, you linger for a moment, brushing a tender hand over her soft cheek. Ensuring the maids were nearby to watch over her, you quietly slip from the nursery and follow the Lord Commander through the castle's stone corridors. Your thoughts remain on Luna for a heartbeat longer before shifting to the matter at hand — choosing the knights who would guard your family, your children.

You arrive at the balcony overlooking the courtyard, where a line of knights stands at attention, their armor gleaming in the afternoon sun. The air is crisp, the tension palpable as each knight awaits his turn to be presented.

The Lord Commander steps forward, his voice ringing with authority. "Step forward, Ser Kim Namjoon."

The knight moves with a quiet confidence, offering you a small, almost shy smile. Dimples crease his cheeks, and despite the serious nature of the proceedings, you find yourself smiling back, charmed by the warmth in his expression.

"Ser Namjoon has proved strong and steady in both the tourney lists and in service beyond," the Lord Commander begins. "While traveling through the Kingswood on the way to King’s Landing, Ser Namjoon recently brought a would-be poacher to justice."

You listen carefully, considering the man before you. His loyalty and steadiness are clear, and his recent actions speak of a knight who serves with honor. Still, your mind drifts to a darker, more urgent thought — combat. The Red Keep, and more importantly, your children, needed knights who were not only honorable but battle hardened. In these uncertain times, loyalty alone would not be enough. 

"Ser Namjoon," you say, your voice polite yet measured. "We thank you for your loyal service to the Crown."

He bows deeply before stepping back into line, and you offer him a nod in return, though your thoughts continue to circle around the same question — how many of these knights had seen true combat?

The next knight steps forward, and your gaze narrows as you take him in.

"Ser Kim Seokjin," the Lord Commander announces.

This knight is taller, leaner than Namjoon. He holds himself with a quiet grace, his expression serious, but there's a spark of something beneath the surface — determination perhaps, or ambition.

"Winner of the melee at Cider Hall," the Lord Commander continues. "He was the last mounted of three and twenty knights. Ser Seokjin was knighted at eight and ten."

You raise an eyebrow, impressed by his accomplishments. Yet, your thoughts linger on something more pressing, more crucial to the protection of your family.

"Do any of these knights have combat experience?" you ask, your tone sharper now. "Beyond capturing poachers and winning tourneys?"

The Lord Commander nods solemnly, signaling the next candidate.

“Ser Jeon Jungkook.”

As the name is called, a young knight steps forward, noticeably younger than the others who had come before him. Yet, despite his youth, he carries himself with an air of quiet confidence, his steps measured and purposeful. Strands of raven hair fall loosely across his forehead, framing a face that, while youthful, is sharp with focus. His dark eyes meet yours with a steady gaze, neither too bold nor deferent — he stands unshaken by the weight of the moment.

He looks about your age, perhaps even younger, and though he lacks the grizzled scars of a seasoned warrior, something about him immediately draws your attention. There's a natural grace in the way he moves, his armor fitting him perfectly as if he was born to wear it. He’s quite handsome, a fact you can’t help but notice as he stands before you, the light of the setting sun casting a faint glow over his features.

"Tell me, Ser Jungkook," you say, breaking the silence, "have you seen real combat?"

He doesn’t falter, his voice steady as he speaks. "I have, Your Grace. I fought for a year as a foot soldier against the Dornish incursions. I was knighted after we razed two of the watchtowers along the Boneway.”

There is no hesitation in his tone, no embellishment. The quiet intensity of his words, the weight of lived experience behind them, strikes you deeply. His demeanor isn't that of a man seeking glory but of one who has already faced the fire and come out stronger for it. In that moment, your decision feels clear.

“It’s settled.” Your lips curve into a smile, one of certainty and satisfaction. “I choose Ser Jungkook.”

The Lord Commander stiffens slightly, his jaw tensing as though weighing whether to speak. Before you can take a step back toward your chambers, his voice interrupts, filled with respectful hesitation. "Perhaps we shouldn’t be too hasty, Your Grace. There is no doubt Ser Jungkook is a fine warrior, but Ser Namjoon and Ser Seokjin are from houses that are important allies of the Crown."

You turn slowly, your expression cool but firm. The politicking of the court — alliances, the endless exchange of favors and titles — was something you understood all too well. Yet, this was not a matter of alliances. This was the safety of your family, the future of your children. And no amount of courtly maneuvering could change that.

“Those men are tourney knights,” you say, your voice laced with a sharp edge. “My children should be defended by a man who’s known real combat. Should they not?”

The Lord Commander pauses, his gaze flickering between the knights and your unwavering stance. He gives a short bow, conceding. “Of course, Your Grace.”

You nod once, satisfied. “Very well, then,” you say, a smile returning to your face, though this time with a sense of finality. “I expect you to plan Ser Jungkook’s investiture.”

There’s a flicker of something in the Lord Commander’s eyes — perhaps begrudging respect or recognition of your authority in this matter. He bows once more before stepping aside. “As you wish, Your Grace. I will see to it.”

As the days passed, it became clear that your decision to appoint Ser Jungkook was more than justified.

Jungkook proved himself an unwavering presence in the lives of your children. He guarded Ares and Celeste like a loyal hound, always at their side, his dark eyes constantly scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger. Wherever they went — whether it was the training yard where Ares spent hours practicing swordplay or the garden where Celeste attempted to name every flower — Jungkook followed, his sight never leaving them.

In the corridors of the Red Keep, you would often catch glimpses of him, stationed at the door to whatever chamber Ares and Celeste had wandered into, standing with that same quiet intensity that first caught your attention. He never intruded upon their activities, never interfered with their games, but his presence was felt all the same. He was a silent sentinel, ensuring that no one entered or exited a room without his knowledge.

Even the servants and court members began to take note, offering respectful nods as they passed him. There was a certain respect that began to build around Jungkook, not just as a knight, but as a protector of the royal family — of your family.

Before Ser Jungkook’s arrival, the Red Keep had always felt secure. Its towering walls and seasoned guards provided a fortress of safety, a place where danger rarely crossed your mind. Yet, somehow, with Jungkook’s arrival, there was a new, tangible sense of protection. His presence, quiet yet vigilant, added an extra layer of assurance, as if the very air had shifted, growing thicker with safety, steadier with his watchful eye. He didn’t need to speak or make grand gestures; just knowing he was there, standing mere feet away from you, made the castle feel more fortified than it ever had before.

In many ways, he made you feel like that too — protected, even in the smallest, unspoken ways.

The Small Council was always the most grueling part of your day. Despite your title as Queen, you found yourself constantly sidelined, your voice often drowned out by the men who dominated the discussions. You had grown accustomed to their subtle condescension — the way they’d nod and pretend to listen, only to carry on as if your words had never been spoken. You’d learned to expect it, but the sting of dismissal never faded entirely.

And today was no different.

As you took your seat, Jungkook stood nearby, ever the silent sentinel. He’d grown adept at reading you, his dark eyes keenly observing the smallest shift in your demeanor. He noticed how, at first, you entered the room with a composed grace, ready to engage in the matters at hand. But as the meeting dragged on, frustration began to creep in, visible in the slight tightening of your jaw each time a man at the table spoke over you or dismissed your suggestions with a polite but infuriating nod.

Jungkook’s eyes followed the subtle changes — the way your posture stiffened, the soft sigh you tried to suppress, and then, finally, the way boredom started to settle in as you reached for the small stone ball on the table, rolling it between your fingers absentmindedly. He knew you were doing your best to remain patient, but the disrespect weighed heavily in the room.

His hand instinctively twitched at his side, a protective instinct rising within him as he stood there watching. He was ready to intervene if the moment called for it, though he knew better than to step in unless absolutely necessary. Still, his silent support was palpable, a reassuring presence amidst the clamor of men who failed to see the strength in the woman before them.

“Perhaps we should discuss Driftmark, Your Grace,” the Maester began, his voice too casual for the gravity of the subject. He directed his attention toward your husband, but the mention of Driftmark instantly drew you in, pulling you from your growing boredom. You straightened in your seat, the defensiveness in your posture clear.

“What of it?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, the raw emotion behind it hard to suppress. Driftmark wasn’t just a topic for idle conversation — it was family. Personal. The loss of the Lord of the Tides, your cousin’s husband, had been a blow that still lingered, and the aftermath of it weighed heavily on your heart.

He had been more than just family; he had adored your children as if they were his own, even naming your daughter, Celeste, as his heir. It was an honor, though one with its own set of complications. With Ares set to inherit the Iron Throne, Celeste was to inherit Driftmark. Your cousin, devastated by the loss of her husband and without heirs of her own, was to hold the seat in her stead until Celeste came of age.

The Maester’s eyes flickered between you and your husband, clearly aware of the tension in the room but too entrenched in his own position to approach the subject delicately. He cleared his throat, then spoke with a tone that bordered on patronizing. “It’s... a delicate matter, Your Grace. There are those who believe the succession should be reconsidered, given your daughter’s age. Furthermore, some question the wisdom of naming a girl as heir to such a powerful seat.”

Your stomach tightened, fury simmering beneath the surface. A girl. As if Celeste’s age or gender diminished her worth, her potential. You could feel the disdain, not just for your daughter, but for the very idea of a woman wielding such power.

You held the Maester’s gaze, your voice sharp with barely concealed fury. “And do you agree with them?”

The chamber seemed to freeze in that moment, the weight of your words pressing down on everyone in the room. All eyes flickered nervously between you and the Maester, the tension palpable as if even the air had thickened, making it harder to breathe. Everyone braced themselves for the confrontation that was surely coming.

The Maester, sensing the chance to finally reveal his true thoughts, straightened in his seat, his chest puffing out as arrogance replaced caution. He no longer glanced toward your husband for approval; instead, his focus was solely on you, his eyes glinting with condescension.

“A woman on the Driftwood Throne, Your Grace?” he repeated, his voice dripping with condescension. “Forgive my candor, but Driftmark is not some soft and delicate estate. It is a seat of warriors, sailors, men of the sea and battle. Its history is steeped in strength and tradition. To put a mere girl — no matter her bloodline — on that chair is folly, plain and simple. A woman’s place is in the home, tending to hearth and children, not commanding fleets or sitting in council chambers. The late Lord has a brother who would make a fine new Lord, more befitting the legacy.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, your hands tightening into fists. “His brother has no desire for rule!” you shot back, your temper dangerously close to boiling over. “Celeste is his rightful heir. It was his wish, and it will not be questioned!”

The Maester, unfazed, continues. “Your Grace… with all due respect, your daughter is but a child. A girl of her age should be concerned with dolls and dresses, not the governance of a seat as vital as Driftmark. There are many in the realm who would argue that Driftmark deserves a stronger hand. A male heir, one capable of steering the course of the future, as tradition demands. Perhaps it is time to reconsider your decision, before it’s too late. Before the realm begins to question not only Driftmark’s future, but the Queen’s judgment as well.”

The insult hung in the air like a storm cloud, casting a heavy, suffocating tension over the room. The audacity — the sheer gall of the Maester to question not only your daughter’s right but your authority as Queen. Fury simmered beneath your composed exterior, your hand twitching as though you might lash out.

But before you could muster a response, Jungkook was already moving.

“You will watch your tongue when speaking to the Queen, Maester,” Jungkook’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble, carrying the unmistakable weight of a threat. His usually calm demeanor was gone, replaced by something far more menacing. “Or it shall be taken from you.”

The room seemed to shrink around the Maester, all eyes now on him as the color drained from his face. His earlier arrogance dissolved in an instant, replaced with wide-eyed panic. The man who had dared to question your daughter’s birthright now looked as though he might faint from fear.

“I- I meant no offense, Ser Jungkook,” the Maester stammered, his words tumbling over themselves in a desperate attempt to backpedal. His gaze flickered nervously from you to Jungkook, searching for some kind of escape.

“You did,” Jungkook cut him off sharply, his tone like the edge of a blade. His gaze bore into the Maester, unyielding, unwavering. “And I will remind you once more: mind your tongue.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the threat hanging in the air like a blade, and no one doubted that Jungkook would make good on his promise if pushed further.

You turned your gaze to Jungkook, barely concealing your silent shock. The man who stood just feet away, usually so quiet and composed, always speaking only when spoken to, had stepped in to defend you — boldly, without hesitation. The gesture was unexpected, and for a moment, you were struck by the kindness and protectiveness it held.

It was not just the words he had spoken, but the intensity behind them, the clear signal that he would tolerate no disrespect toward you. In a room full of lords and courtiers who often dismissed your voice, Jungkook’s sudden defense felt like a rare and precious show of loyalty. Uncommon as it was, it left a warmth spreading in your chest, a silent but deeply felt appreciation.

Jungkook still hadn’t met your eyes, his intense gaze fixed on the Maester, the disapproval and disgust etched in his expression radiating an aura so fierce, it was almost frightening. He stood there like a wall of steel, silently daring anyone to challenge him again.

You turned your attention back to the Maester, who now squirmed under the weight of the moment. His once confident, condescending exterior had crumbled, now sitting timidly in his seat.

“Celeste is the rightful heir,” you stated, your voice even and composed, though laced with quiet authority. “She will rule Driftmark, and she will do so just as well as any man ever could. Anyone who questions that,” you paused, allowing the weight of your words to settle over the room, “will regret it.”

The Maester lowered his head, unable to meet your gaze, his earlier arrogance completely shattered. “Of course, Your Grace. Please, forgive my words.”

Jungkook didn’t move an inch, his focus still locked onto the Maester like a hawk waiting for the slightest wrong move. The room felt smaller, the tension almost suffocating as the Maester’s earlier confidence reduced to a pitiful murmur.

“See that you don’t forget that again,” you said, your tone final and cold, leaving no room for further argument.

With that, you stood up from your seat, the weight of the moment still hanging heavy in the air. Without another word, you turned on your heel and made your way out of the courtroom, every step deliberate, your posture unyielding. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as you moved, a quiet power radiating from you that demanded respect.

Jungkook, as ever, was by your side in an instant, but he kept a respectful distance, just enough to remain a silent protector, his presence still like a shield around you. His footsteps were measured, the sound of his boots echoing softly in the corridors, and yet there was an undeniable sense of security in the space between you two. No words were exchanged as you made your way to your chamber — there was no need for them. His silent solidarity was all you required.

Jungkook’s presence was reassuring, like the calm after a storm, and it made the weight of leadership — of being Queen — just a little easier to bear.

After the heat of earlier’s events, the last thing you wanted was to step foot back into the chaos of the court. The weight of the Maester’s words still lingered in the air, and you felt the need to retreat, to recharge in the only place that felt truly like yours. So, you didn’t leave your chambers for the rest of the day. You took the rare opportunity to unwind, the need for solitude outweighing any further obligations for the day.

Without a second thought, you changed into your nightgown well before the moon rose, the soft fabric a welcome contrast to the tense weight of your court attire. You moved with practiced ease, the familiar ritual of shedding the day’s responsibilities easing the knots in your shoulders. 

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a warm glow that danced across the room. You sank into the couch, the cushions molding to your body as you settled in front of the flames. With a book in hand, you opened the pages, the words inviting you into another world — a world where you could forget, if only for a moment, the burdens of being Queen.

You lost yourself in the story, the flicker of the fire keeping time with the rhythm of your reading. Outside your window, the castle was quiet, the usual noise of the corridors muted by the sanctuary of your chamber. For the first time that day, you felt a sense of peace. The world outside could wait. Here, in the comfort of your own space, you could simply be.

But just as the fire’s soft, flickering glow began to lull you deeper into peace, a knock at the door broke the fragile silence, its sound sharp and intrusive. A flicker of annoyance stirred within you — someone daring to interrupt the quiet sanctuary of your evening. But then, a familiar voice, calm and steady, followed.

“Your Grace?”

It’s him.

You took a slow breath, the irritation melting away at the sound of his voice, and called softly, “Come in, Ser Jungkook.”

The door creaked open, but Jungkook didn’t immediately step inside. He stood just beyond the threshold, his tall frame framed by the dim light spilling from the hall, casting long shadows across the stone floor. There was something endearing in the way he paused there, as though uncertain, hesitating to cross the boundary of your private space without your explicit permission. His respect for the sanctity of your chambers was something rare, a simple act that made him stand out even more.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, like the evening air itself. “I’ve just come to alert you that the children are abed.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

What you didn’t know was that the children had been in bed for some time. Jungkook had only alerted you now because he was standing just outside your door, hesitating. He wasn’t sure if he should disturb your peace with the news. Still new to this role, he was uncertain of how to balance his duties with the delicate art of discretion.

“Thank you, Ser Jungkook,” you said, your tone warm with gratitude. “I would appreciate it if you informed me every night from now on.”

“Of course, Your Grace. Sleep well.” Jungkook gave a respectful nod, his voice as steady and sincere as ever, and he turned to leave.

“Ser Jungkook,” you called again, before he could close the door behind him.

He paused, hand resting lightly on the doorframe, his dark eyes meeting yours in the soft, flickering firelight. For a brief moment, the noise of the castle seemed to fall away, the crackling fire the only sound that filled the space between you. It was rare, these moments of true stillness, where it was just the two of you, no interruptions, no duties weighing on either of your shoulders. The warmth from the fire cast a soft glow over him, accentuating the quiet strength in his features.

For the first time, you found yourself truly looking at him — not just the protector of your children, not just the present knight, but Jungkook. 

“I’ve yet to thank you for earlier — in the Small Council chamber,” you said softly, your voice quiet but earnest. “I appreciate your defense. Thank you.”

The words hung between you for a moment, carrying a weight that felt heavier than it should. It wasn’t just the defense itself, though that was significant; it was the quiet way he had stood up for you. Jungkook had always been the silent one, always just there, standing in the background. But today, he had been more. He had spoken when no one else had. His simple act of defending you meant more than you could say.

Jungkook’s posture softened at your words, though his expression remained composed, his usual stoic demeanor intact. Yet, as he held your gaze, his dark eyes seemed to linger a moment longer than usual, a subtle warmth settling in his look that wasn’t often there. It was as though the space between you both had shifted, the heavy tension of the day dissolving into something quieter, almost comforting.

“It was nothing, Your Grace. You need not thank me,” he replied, his voice low and measured, though there was something beneath it — something genuine, almost vulnerable, that made the words feel different from his usual calm, detached responses. His eyes remained steady on yours, and for a moment, the usual distance between you seemed to shrink, as though he was offering something unspoken, something more than just a knight’s duty. “You shouldn’t have to endure that kind of disrespect. It’s my duty to protect you, in all ways.”

You gave a soft nod, absorbing the weight of his words. Jungkook was a constant in your life — a silent guardian who stood watch over both your children and yourself. But hearing him speak of protecting you in such a way, so plainly and honestly, stirred something within you. It wasn’t just your children that mattered to him; it was you, as well. 

“You do more than protect,” you said, your voice softer now, the weariness of the day gradually easing. “Your actions today… they meant more than you know.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched at the corners, acknowledging your words, but he didn’t respond right away. There was a brief silence between you both, the fire’s crackling embers filling the stillness as he shifted his weight, his stance still as rigid as ever, but now, a slight tension in his shoulders had eased.

“If there’s ever anything you need, Your Grace,” he said finally, his tone softer than it had been moments before, but with an underlying firmness that conveyed his commitment, “I am here.”

The sincerity in his voice wrapped around you like a quiet promise, steady and unwavering. The light of the fire caught on his features, casting soft shadows over his face, making his usually guarded expression seem less distant, more human. You felt a sense of peace settling into the space between you both, a momentary connection that felt more genuine than anything that had passed between you in the public eye.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, finding comfort in the rare, honest exchange.

Jungkook inclined his head once more, his expression softening in a way that was unusual for him — a small, but genuine smile curling his lips, the warmth of it making him seem more approachable, more... real.

“Goodnight, Your Grace,” he said quietly, voice full of respect, but also something else — something deeper.

“Goodnight, Ser Jungkook,” you murmured in return.

With that, he turned and moved to close the door behind him, the soft click of the latch signaling his departure. But as the door clicked shut, you realized that this time, you didn’t feel the usual solitude. There was something different. Something comforting. Something exciting that made the pit of your stomach feel funny, in knowing he was standing just outside your door.

Just the barrier of wood between you two.

The next day unfolded much more peacefully than the last. 

You sat on the floor of your chamber, the luxurious fabric of your gown pooling around you like a soft sea of silk. The quiet of the room was comforting as you focused on the delicate task in front of you — embroidering a blanket for Luna. Each stitch was a calming motion, your mind momentarily free of the weight of royal duties. 

You hadn’t seen Jungkook yet, but his presence lingered in your thoughts, like an unspoken promise. The anticipation of his arrival stirred a quiet excitement within you, though you had no idea when he might appear. 

The silence was broken by your husband's voice, cutting through the peaceful air as he entered without knocking, his tone casual. “How are you feeling today?”

You glanced up briefly, meeting his eyes before returning to your work. “Better,” you answered, the edges of your lips curving into a faint smile.

“Good,” Atticus replied, smirking as he made his way over to the table and poured himself a goblet of wine. “Do you think you’ll be attending the Small Council today?”

You hesitated, the thought of sitting through another long, tedious session filling you with a quiet reluctance. “No… if that’s alright?” you replied, your tone tentative, not wanting to seem too dismissive of his suggestion.

“Of course,” Atticus said, lifting the goblet to his lips. His eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief as he added, “But I’ll have you know, I’ve hired a new Maester.”

The words hit you like a spark, and without thinking, you put your needle down. The sudden shift in the conversation caught your attention fully. Your eyes locked onto him, eyebrows raised in surprise. The idea of a new Maester was unexpected — and it immediately piqued your curiosity.

"Are you upset about that?" you asked, your voice soft and laced with a hint of apology, eyes searching his face for any sign of how he truly felt.

Atticus paused, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. His lips curled into a knowing smirk, and he set the goblet down gently on the table. "I could never be upset with you for only standing up for yourself," he said, his voice steady, though there was an underlying heat to his words. "And someone as disrespectful as that will not continue to walk around in this castle."

His declaration was resolute, filled with a quiet determination. The confidence in his voice was not just from his position, but from a place of deep respect for you. It was as if he had taken the full weight of your frustration upon himself, and the fire behind his words showed that he would do whatever it took to ensure you never had to endure such treatment again. 

You smile warmly at his words. "Thank you, Atticus."

He pauses, a small smile tugging at his lips, his fingers tapping idly on the edge of the table. "You know, as much as I’m not in love with you," he says slowly, his tone more thoughtful than usual, "I still love you."

The admission hangs in the air between you, the raw honesty in his voice bringing a quiet comfort. It wasn't the passionate declaration of romance you might have hoped for, but it was the kind of love that ran deep — steady, consistent, unshakable. 

You meet his gaze, and your heart softens with understanding. "As do I," you reply, your voice gentle but genuine. 

It wasn’t the kind of love that others might expect, filled with grand gestures and whispered sweet nothings. But in its own way, it was a love that had stood the test of time. It isn’t passionate, but there’s a respect and understanding between the two of you that runs deep.

“Now,” Atticus says, his voice low, teasing. “Can we talk about your knight in shining armor?”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smirk that tugs at your lips. “Oh Gods,” you say, the edge of amusement clear in your voice as you go back to your needlework.

“Oh, come on,” he whines, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “I let you pick, now you have to tell me all about him!”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “It was you who suggested I pick?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I thought you’d feel more content choosing someone yourself.”

“I do,” you reply with a small smile, returning to your embroidery. “It was a wise suggestion.”

“Oh, don’t change the subject now!” He motions with a dramatic hand. “What was that about yesterday?”

“He was just defending me,” you say, hoping to dismiss the conversation, though you’re well aware it won’t be that easy.

Atticus lets out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes in dramatic fashion. “No knight is that devoted to duty, my dear wife.”

His words make you pause, but you try not to let it show. Still, a smile begins to creep onto your lips, unbidden. You hadn’t really allowed yourself to think about it that way. Jungkook had always been quiet, loyal, reliable — but devoted in the way Atticus is hinting? It’s a thought that stirs something unexpected in you.

“Well, believe it or not,” you say, unable to stop the small grin now, “we’ve spoken to each other only a few times.”

Atticus raises an eyebrow, leaning in slightly, clearly entertained. “Is that so? And yet, with little words between you, he’s ready to challenge a room full of lords for your honor. Fascinating.”

You roll your eyes, returning to your needlework in an attempt to focus, but your mind can’t help but drift back to Jungkook. The memory of his voice, steady and unyielding as he defended you, lingers. Maybe Atticus has a point, but admitting that would only fuel his relentless teasing.

“He’s just dutiful,” you insist, though even you can hear the uncertainty creeping into your voice. 

Atticus catches it too, and his smirk widens as he takes a slow, deliberate sip from his goblet. “Dutiful because he loves his duty? Or because of you?”

Your cheeks flush instantly, the warmth creeping up your neck as you try to brush off the insinuation. “You’re reading into this too much,” you mumble, focusing on the embroidery in your lap, though your needlework suddenly seems less interesting.

“Am I?” Atticus drawls, stepping closer, his tone playful but probing. “Did you solely choose him because of his skills?”

You glance up at him briefly, trying to suppress a smile. “Are you implying something?”

He shrugs, the smirk on his lips widening. “Well, did you?”

“I did!” you exclaim, the words tumbling out a little too quickly, as if you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him. You glance up at Atticus, catching the amused gleam in his eyes. “He’s excellent with the children, and he strikes the perfect balance around here — intimidating enough to make it clear no one should challenge him, but not so much that the children are frightened. I trust him completely, and I’ve only known him a short while.”

Atticus hums, swirling the wine in his goblet with deliberate slowness before taking a sip, his skepticism apparent in the slight arch of his brow.

You shake your head, sighing lightly. “He’s proven his worth,” you say, trying to sound firm, though the soft smile that sneaks onto your lips betrays you. “It’s his abilities that matter.”

Atticus grins, thoroughly enjoying this exchange. “Of course, his abilities. And it’s just a coincidence that the knight you trust with our children’s safety also happens to be rather… easy on the eyes?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, though the warmth spreading through your chest betrays your amusement. “His appearance has nothing to do with why I chose him,” you insist, though your tone has lost its edge, becoming playful and light. “He’s capable, loyal, and vigilant. His looks are irrelevant.”

Atticus raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening into a knowing grin. “Irrelevant, but not unnoticed?”

You shoot him a mock glare, though the smile tugging at your lips makes it hard to maintain any seriousness. “You’re impossible,” you say with a shake of your head. “I care about his skills and nothing more.”

Atticus chuckles softly, clearly entertained. “We shall see,” he teases, his voice lingering in the air as he begins to make his exit. His steps are slow, unhurried, as though he’s savoring the moment. 

He walks out with a lightness in his stride, and the faint echo of his laughter trails behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts — and the quiet, unsettling realization that maybe, just maybe, his words weren’t entirely off the mark.

Returning to the Small Council felt different this time. The atmosphere had shifted. The men were more considerate, actually taking your opinions into account — a stark contrast to their usual dismissiveness. It seemed Atticus’ harsh punishment of the last Maester had sent a clear message: disrespect would no longer be tolerated. They were treading carefully now, not wanting to find themselves in a similar predicament.

You exhaled a long breath as you walked into your chamber, ready to unwind after the tense day. Removing your jewelry, you placed each piece delicately on the table, the soft clink of metal filling the otherwise quiet room. You went to bend down to slip off your shoes, eager for the relief of the cool floor beneath your feet.

But before you could, a sharp point suddenly pressed against your neck.

You froze.

Panic surged through you as the cold blade pressed harder against your skin, the world around you narrowing to the sound of your racing heartbeat.

“Don’t scream,” a low voice hissed in your ear, breath hot against your skin, “or you will die.”

Your breath hitched, the threat sinking in, terror flooding your veins. Tears welled in your eyes as helplessness gripped you. You had never felt so vulnerable, so utterly at the mercy of another.

The man spun you around with a jerk, and your gaze landed on another figure lurking in the shadows — both were dressed in the rough, dirt stained garb of rat catchers, but their eyes gleamed with intent far darker than pest control.

“We were paid to kill the little girl,” the man growled, his eyes boring into yours with malicious purpose. “The one who is set to inherit Driftmark. Where is she?”

Your heart stopped. They wanted Celeste. Your daughter. 

Desperation clawed at your insides, but you forced yourself to remain calm, though your voice trembled as you spoke. “I have many things in here of great value,” you said, your mind racing to stall, to buy any time you could. “You can take whatever you want. Jewelry, gold…”

The man sneered, pressing the blade just a fraction closer, enough to make your skin prickle with fear. “We’re not here for trinkets,” he spat. “We’re here for the girl.”

The suffocating pressure eased as the man shoved you away, though he kept his dagger trained on you, its sharp point a constant threat.

“Lead us to her,” he snarled, “and you will live.”

Your pulse quickened, panic rising. But amid the terror, you clung to one thought: Jungkook was just outside, standing guard by the children’s room. He would protect Celeste.

Heart pounding, you forced your legs to move, stepping cautiously toward the door of your chamber. The rat catchers followed closely, one of them pressing the dagger against your back, a constant reminder of the danger lurking just inches away.

By the time you reached the door, your eyes caught a glimpse of movement. Jungkook — his back against the wood, waiting, ready. His gaze met yours, and in that brief moment, you felt a surge of relief, but it was fleeting.

Before you could react, Jungkook sprang into action. In a heartbeat, he grabbed your arm and yanked you behind him, shielding you with his body. You stumbled backward, watching in awe as he unsheathed his sword with deadly precision. 

Jungkook wasted no time. His blade sank deep into the stomach of the first rat catcher, a sickening thud echoing in the hallway. The man gasped, blood spurting from the wound, and crumpled to the floor.

The second assailant, wild with desperation, swung his dagger wildly at Jungkook. But Jungkook moved with lethal grace, dodging each strike effortlessly. His movements were swift, controlled, each step calculated. In one fluid motion, he caught the man's wrist mid swing, twisting it with a force that made the man cry out in pain. Jungkook’s grip tightened, and with a brutal efficiency, he forced the attacker to plunge the dagger into his own abdomen.

The man’s eyes widened in shock, the weapon lodged deep within him, his strength faltering. Jungkook released him, and the second rat catcher staggered before collapsing to the ground beside his companion, both of them now lying in pools of their own blood.

In shock, you stood frozen, tears welling in your eyes as the reality of the moment crashed over you. Only a minute ago, you had feared for your life, for your family’s lives. And now, Jungkook had effortlessly put an end to the rat catchers, his blade on the ground still stained with their blood. It all felt too surreal, too close.

Before you could fully process what had happened, Jungkook rushed to you, his expression softening with concern. He cupped your face gently in his hands, his touch grounding you. “Your Grace? Are you hurt?” His voice was low but urgent, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injury.

You shook your head, still unable to find your voice, too overwhelmed by everything. Your heart pounded, your throat tight as you struggled to keep yourself together.

“You’re alright now,” Jungkook whispered, his thumbs brushing tenderly across your cheeks. “Everything’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. The fear, the relief, the gratitude — they all hit you at once, overwhelming your senses. And before you knew it, your emotions spilled over. You erupted into sobs, throwing your arms around Jungkook’s neck, seeking the warmth and safety of his presence. You buried your face into his skin, your tears dripping onto his armor as you cried.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate for a second. His arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to him, his strength and warmth offering the comfort you so desperately needed. One of his hands rubbed soothingly up and down your back while the other cradled your head, pressing you gently against his chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong, was the only thing keeping you grounded amidst the chaos of your emotions.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he murmured into your hair, his voice soft and calming. “You’re safe now.”

And in that moment, in his arms, you believed him.

After Atticus learned about the rat catchers’ attack, his fury was swift and intense, shaking the very walls of the Red Keep. His voice thundered from the Small Council chamber, echoing through the halls as he took command of the situation. His anger wasn’t just justified — it was terrifying. No one dared stand in his way as he set out to make sure something like this could never happen again.

You sat in your children’s room, seeking comfort in their innocent presence. Even as you tried to calm your racing heart, the distant roar of Atticus’s orders only heightened the gravity of what had nearly occurred. He wasted no time doubling the guard, placing knights at every vulnerable corner of the Keep. The added protection was meant to reassure, but for you, it only underscored the severity of the danger that had almost taken your daughter.

Atticus was relentless in his pursuit of justice. He immediately dispatched his men to find out who had hired the rat catchers. It wasn’t long before the truth came out — your former Maester hadn’t been acting alone. There were more, many more, who shared his poisonous view that Celeste, your little girl, had no right to inherit Driftmark. These men, clinging to their outdated belief that only a man should rule, had conspired to end her life before she could ever sit upon the Driftwood Throne.

Those who were caught speaking against Celeste’s claim were dealt with harshly. Atticus showed no mercy. He threw them in the dungeons without a second thought, ensuring that any who dared oppose your daughter’s future would be silenced. In this, he was steadfast, and you were grateful for his fierce protection of your family.

But even with the threat supposedly contained, the fear hadn’t left you. That night still clung to you like a dark shadow, creeping into your thoughts when you least expected it. The memory of those men — of their knives and their cruel threats — replayed in your mind every night, a loop you couldn’t break free from. 

Sleep was becoming harder to find. You would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the attack pressing down on your chest. Even with Jungkook stationed just outside your door, standing as your silent guardian, the sense of unease never fully faded. You trusted him more than anyone now, knowing he had saved you without hesitation, but your mind couldn’t silence the what ifs. What if something happened to him? What if the guards missed something? What if they came back?

Tonight was no different. The room was quiet, your children safe in their beds, but your thoughts raced. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind outside felt like a reminder of how close you had come to losing everything. You sat up in bed, pulling your knees to your chest, trying to calm the storm within. 

Jungkook was right outside the door — so close, and yet, the fear lingered. You knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but that night had changed everything. The vulnerability, the terror, had been too real, and you couldn’t just forget it. Even though the Red Keep was locked down, even though Atticus had done everything in his power to keep you safe, you were haunted by the thought that danger still lurked just out of sight.

You couldn’t sleep. The quiet room, the stillness, your own thoughts circling endlessly — it was too much. You knew that tonight, like so many others, you’d be awake until the sun rose. So, with a sigh, you slipped out of bed, crossed the room, and quietly opened the door.

And there he was.

Jungkook stood just outside, his back to you, ever vigilant. When the door creaked softly, he turned, eyes meeting yours. In the faint light of the moon, his features were softened, yet his gaze was alert, concerned. The gleam in his eyes caught the moonlight, and for just a moment, the comfort of his presence made the world feel a little less daunting.

“Your Grace?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “I thought you’d be abed by now.”

“I can’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice quiet but laden with the weight of sleepless nights and endless worry.

“You’re safe now,” he said gently, his tone firm yet soothing, as if trying to will your mind to find peace. “Allow yourself to rest.”

You managed a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You said you’d be here if I ever needed anything.”

His brows furrowed slightly as he nodded, understanding your unspoken request. “I did.”

You hesitated only briefly before speaking again, your voice softer now. “Can you come in?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and he straightened. “Your Grace, I hardly think that is appropriate,” he replied, though his tone was more uncertain than firm. His sense of duty and propriety clashed visibly with his desire to help you.

“It will comfort me,” you said, the vulnerability in your voice enough to make him falter.

He hesitated, clearly torn. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword as if it could ground him in the face of your request. His loyalty to you was absolute, but the boundaries of it were something he grappled with now.

Seeing his hesitation, you added, teasing softly, “Your Queen demands you.”

That earned you a small smile, one that softened the tension in the air. Jungkook shook his head, chuckling under his breath as he conceded. “Well, who am I to deny my Queen?” he said, stepping past the threshold.

As Jungkook entered the room, his mere presence brought with it a sense of security you hadn’t even realized you’d been yearning for. His eyes never left yours, filled with a mix of concern and quiet understanding, as you led him over to the couch by the fireplace. 

You settled yourself on one side, pulling a blanket over your legs as you crossed them beneath its warmth. When you glanced up, you noticed he hadn’t joined you yet. Instead, he stood a little distance away, unsure, his posture stiff as if still on duty.

“Sit,” you gestured to the empty space beside you.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to the door as if he still wasn’t sure this was the right thing to do. But your gentle command was enough to sway him. With a slight nod, he moved closer, his heavy footsteps softening as he reached the couch. Just as he was about to sit, you spoke again, your voice quiet but firm.

“Take off your armor.”

He froze, eyes wide as if caught off guard by your request. “Your Grace,” he said slowly, his tone almost a warning, a reminder of the boundary he believed needed to remain in place.

But you shook your head, your expression soft but insistent. “I don’t want you here as Ser Jungkook,” you explained, your voice carrying a vulnerability you hadn’t meant to reveal. “I want you here just as Jungkook.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, clearly torn between his sense of duty and the comfort you were asking for. But then, with a slow exhale, he began to unfasten the clasps of his armor, the metallic clinks filling the otherwise quiet room. Piece by piece, the weight of it fell away, and he set it aside, each movement careful and deliberate.

Jungkook looked at you, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips as he gestured to his cloak. "If you would," he said softly, his eyes warm but with a hint of playful mischief.

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a bit lighter as you stood from the couch, the blanket slipping from your lap and pooling onto the floor. Your fingers brushed against his as you reached for the clasp of his cloak, feeling the cool metal as you carefully undid it. The fabric was thick and heavy, and as you pulled it off his shoulders, it seemed to take with it some of the invisible barrier he kept between you both.

The air between you felt different now, more intimate, as you set his cloak aside with the rest of his armor. When you turned back to face him, he was watching you closely, his expression softer than before, as if seeing you in a new light.

For a second, you just stood there, gazing at each other in the soft glow of the fire.

Now, without the weight of his armor, Jungkook looked more relaxed, his shoulders less tense, though there was still a quiet alertness in his posture. When you invited him to sit, he did so without hesitation this time, his expression softening as he settled next to you on the couch.

As the fire crackled gently beside you, casting a warm glow over the room, you found yourself seeing him differently. Here, sitting in your chambers, with the walls of duty momentarily lowered, Jungkook wasn’t just your knight anymore. He was a man — kind, steady, and unexpectedly gentle in his presence.

“I’ve not been able to sleep as of late,” you admitted, your voice quieter, more vulnerable than you intended. “But with you here... I feel safe.”

Jungkook’s smile was soft, a flicker of warmth that reached his eyes. “I’m happy to hear that,” he said, though his voice was still laced with the respectful formality he always carried. “Your Grace.”

You hesitated for a moment, then spoke your name, more firmly this time. “Use my name. The formalities can stay with your armor… Jungkook.”

The moment hung between you, quiet but significant. When he repeated your name, his voice was different, softer, almost intimate. It felt personal, as if you were the only thing that mattered in this room, in this moment.

Your heart fluttered hearing your name on his lips. The way he said it felt more intimate than you’d expected, and as the quiet settled around you both, you realized the walls between you were coming down even more.

“My mother died when I was four and ten,” Jungkook begins, his voice steady but carrying the weight of years of grief. “She was murdered right in front of me. I was weak, untrained... I couldn’t help her. I just stood there, frozen, and I couldn’t save her.” He pauses, his gaze distant, lost in the painful memory. “When I left the children’s chamber to go guard yours and I saw those rat catchers in there… I knew I couldn’t let you down like I did my mother. I couldn’t let that happen again.”

Your heart clenches and your brows knit in sorrow, completely torn by his story. His words hang heavy in the air, the realization of his past weighing on your chest. You feel both gratitude and guilt — glad that Jungkook trusts you enough to open up, yet heartbroken by the trauma he’s lived through.

It suddenly makes sense — why he’s always so guarded, so precise, so fiercely loyal. You understand now why he was trained in combat at such a young age, why he’s so vigilant, and why he holds himself to such a high standard. His devotion to you, his protection of your family, it all stems from a promise he made to himself long ago, a promise born from tragedy.

You reach out, placing a gentle hand on his arm resting on the back of the couch, your touch warm and comforting. Jungkook’s gaze flickers to where your hand rests on his arm, and then back to your face, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

“You’ve done well to uphold that promise,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. As your eyes meet his, you offer him a genuine smile, hoping it conveys the compassion you feel. “Your mother would love the man you’ve grown to be, Jungkook.”

For a brief moment, Jungkook’s eyes soften, his usual stoic expression breaking. He looks almost vulnerable, as if the weight he carries is shared, if only for a second.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice low and sincere. “I find myself very… protective over you.”

You tilt your head slightly, a teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips. The soft glow of the fire casts a warm light over your face, and your eyes seem to shimmer with curiosity. “Why is that?” you ask, a playful lilt to your tone as you watch him.

Jungkook hesitates for a beat, his dark eyes holding yours. He slowly pulls his arm away, the loss of contact leaving your skin colder than you expected. But before you can fully miss the warmth, you feel the feather light touch of his fingertips brushing down your arm. His touch is slow, deliberate, sending a tingling sensation across your skin, awakening something inside you.

Your breath catches as his fingers trail lower, the gentle path they take igniting a flutter in your chest. When his hand finally finds yours, his touch is warm and firm, his fingers lacing with yours like it was meant to be all along.

Jungkook looks down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing tenderly over the back of your hand as if testing the waters. “It’s more than duty now,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with something deeper. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the vulnerability there, something raw and unguarded. “I can’t explain it fully, but… it’s like you’ve become more than just someone I’m sworn to protect.”

His gaze lingers on your face, searching for a reaction, and you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you — curiosity, anticipation, and something that feels dangerously close to longing.

Your lips part slightly, your heart hammering in your chest as the room feels smaller, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. “More than duty?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s fingers tighten just a little around yours, grounding you in the moment. His eyes soften, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yes… much more than duty,” he says, his voice tender yet filled with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls, but all you can focus on is him — on the warmth of his hand, the depth in his gaze, and the way the space between you seems to shrink with each passing second.

With his fingers still interlaced with yours, Jungkook gently pulls you closer. The sudden shift brings you nearer to him, and you let out a soft giggle, feeling your cheeks heat up as you blush under his gaze. The warmth of his body, the way his eyes are fixed on you — it sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

As the distance between you vanishes, your breath catches when you realize his gaze is locked on your lips. It’s intense, and it makes your heart race. You watch, spellbound, as he lifts his other hand slowly. His thumb brushes tenderly across your bottom lip, the pad of his finger soft against your skin. The simple, teasing touch sends a wave of warmth washing over you.

He lingers there for a moment, rubbing your lip, and then his thumb presses just a little more insistently, grazing the slit of your mouth as though silently asking for permission. The unspoken question in his eyes makes your pulse quicken, and you instinctively part your lips in response. His thumb slips inside, and you close your mouth gently around it, letting him in.

Your eyes remain on him as his thumb rests against your tongue, the sensation both intimate and electrifying. The fire crackles in the background, but the world feels muted, like it’s just you and him in this moment. Your heart pounds, and the connection between you grows stronger as you suck lightly on his digit.

Jungkook’s breathing becomes slightly uneven as he watches you, his eyes darkening with something deeper, more primal. He gently withdraws his thumb, his fingers now tracing the curve of your jaw, his touch both firm and tender. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

The air between you is thick with anticipation, the moment heavy with the promise of what’s to come. His forehead rests against yours, and for a heartbeat, time seems to stop.

“We should stop before things go further,” Jungkook whispers, his voice low and husky, the warmth of his breath tickling your lips as he gives you the chance to pull away.

You pause, your heart racing in your chest. “We should,” you whisper back, the words lingering in the air between you both.

But neither of you move.

Instead, your gaze remains locked on his, and you can feel the heat radiating between you, the unspoken desire that lingers in the small space that still separates you.

And just like that, his lips are on yours.

The kiss is electric, his lips soft yet insistent as they press against yours. It’s slow at first, a tentative exploration, but the moment your mouths meet, everything else fades into the background.

As your lips remain locked with his, you straddle his lap, the movement seamless and natural, as if you’ve both been leading up to this moment for far too long. Your hands slide behind his head, fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair, tugging lightly as the kiss grows more heated, more desperate.

Jungkook’s hands find your waist, gripping you firmly, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. You feel his muscles tense beneath your fingertips as you press yourself against him, your hips moving instinctively. A soft gasp escapes your lips when you feel the hardness beneath you, his cock straining against the fabric of his breeches, the friction making you yearn for more.

Your hips begin to buck slowly, grinding against him as you search for more contact, more release. The heat between you two is palpable now, your breath mingling with his as the kiss deepens, tongues tangling in a rhythm that matches the slow, steady roll of your hips. Every shift of your body sends a wave of pleasure through you, and you can feel his grip tighten on your waist, his breathing growing heavier.

Jungkook lets out a low groan against your lips, the sound vibrating through you, igniting something primal. You can feel the restraint he’s holding onto, the tension in his body as he struggles to keep control, but the way his hands grip your waist tells you he’s just as lost in the moment as you are.

The friction between you both builds, the heat intensifying, but the layers of fabric between you only heighten the desire, making you ache for more.

“Perhaps I should thank you,” you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and teasing as your hips roll against him, causing a deep groan to escape from Jungkook’s throat. You can feel him hardening beneath you, his body responding despite his attempts to maintain composure. “For your service…”

His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your sides just enough to make you feel how much he’s holding back. “It is only my mere duty,” he says, voice strained, each word laced with barely controlled desire.

You smile at his restraint, your lips moving to brush against the sharp line of his jaw. “You’ve done so much,” you murmur, your lips trailing lower, leaving a warm path down his neck, just beneath his jaw. His skin is soft and warm, and his pulse races beneath your touch. You hear his breath catch as you kiss along his collarbone, each word punctuated by a slow, deliberate press of your lips. “For me…” You move lower, your kisses more intentional, feeling his chest rise and fall more rapidly under your touch. “For my children…”

His hands twitch on your hips, torn between pulling you closer and letting you continue your slow, torturous descent. When you glance up at him, you see the way his dark eyes watch your every movement, clouded with need, a silent plea for more even as he struggles to keep himself grounded.

"I think you deserve a reward," you whisper, your voice sultry, teasing as your lips hover just above the edge of his tunic. Your fingers slowly, deliberately trace the hem, brushing against his heated skin as you make him wait, drawing out the anticipation.

Jungkook's head falls back, his lips parted as he releases a shaky breath, his control slipping with every passing second. His voice is a low growl, thick with longing. “You owe me nothing,”

You shake your head softly, your lips grazing the exposed skin of his chest. “I owe you everything,” you whisper back, your voice filled with sincerity and seduction, the intensity of the moment building as your hand moves lower, testing the boundaries of his restraint.

His body tenses beneath your touch, but his hands stay firm on your hips, holding you against him as if he’s afraid to let go. His eyes meet yours again, dark and full of raw emotion, his voice hushed, almost reverent. “I am yours,” he breathes, and in that moment, you know that he means every word.

With a soft smile playing on your lips, you slowly lift yourself off his lap, feeling the tension in the air as you lower yourself to the ground, kneeling between his legs. Jungkook watches you closely, his breathing uneven, eyes darkened with a mix of anticipation and restraint.

You place your hands gently on his thighs, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric of his breeches, his muscles tense beneath your touch. You start slow, allowing the moment to settle between you, your fingers tracing soft, deliberate circles along his thighs, teasing without rushing. Jungkook’s breath hitches slightly, his gaze locked on your every movement, as if entranced by the sight of you at his feet.

With a deliberate slowness, you begin to untie the laces of his breeches, savoring the quiet rustling of fabric as you pull them off completely, your fingertips brushing against his skin, making him shiver. You take your time, your eyes never leaving his, a playful gleam in your gaze as you watch his resolve crumble little by little.

His cock springs free, finally released from its tight confines. Jungkook lets out a low groan, the sudden release of tension sending a wave of relief through him. The sight of him, hard and ready, makes your breath catch, but you don’t rush. Instead, you rest your hands on his thighs again, grounding yourself in the warmth of his skin, feeling the subtle flex of his muscles beneath your palms.

You glance up at him, and the intensity in his gaze sends a thrill down your spine. His lips are parted, his breath heavy, and you can see the restraint in the way he grips the couch, knuckles white, fighting the urge to take control.

You spit into your hand before wrapping it around his cock, feeling its warmth and weight resting in your palm. You start slow, allowing him to adjust to the sensation, your fingers curling around him with a firm but careful grip. As your hand begins to move, sliding up and down in deliberate, teasing strokes, Jungkook's head falls back against the couch. A low, breathy moan escapes his parted lips, his chest rising and falling more heavily with each breath, betraying his struggle to hold onto his composure under your touch. His muscles tense, eyes fluttering shut, as the pleasure builds with each movement.

His reaction fuels you, and you keep your pace slow and sensual, your hand gliding smoothly along his length. Each movement draws another sound from him — whether it’s a quiet sigh, a deep groan, or the way his breathing catches for a split second. The power you hold in this moment, the way his body responds to your touch, makes the air between you feel electric, alive with tension.

Jungkook’s fingers dig into the cushions beside him, as if holding on for control, but you can see the way his restraint is unraveling, bit by bit. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his lips parted in silent bliss, eyes closed as he surrenders to the sensation.

With a mischievous smile, you tighten your grip just a little, adding the slightest bit more pressure as you continue to stroke him, and his moan deepens, sending a shiver through you.

You lean in, teasingly slow, letting the anticipation build. Jungkook’s breath hitches as he watches you, his chest rising and falling faster, his hands tightening into fists. The moment your tongue makes contact with the tip of his cock, his body tenses. You start with soft, delicate kitten licks, testing his sensitivity, letting him feel every light flick of your tongue as you work.

A bead of precum gathers at the tip, and you lap it up, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. Jungkook’s groan is deep, almost guttural, his head tipping back against the couch once more as you tease him with your soft licks, never giving him more than just a taste of what’s to come.

The way he reacts, the way his body trembles under your touch, only spurs you on. You take your time, savoring the control you have over him, feeling the way his thighs tense beneath your hands.

You glance up at him through your lashes, enjoying the sight of Jungkook completely lost in the moment, his lips parted, breath heavy. His reaction fuels your desire to tease him more. Your tongue moves slowly, deliberately, swirling around his sensitive tip, while your hand continues its steady rhythm, pumping him with just enough pressure to keep him on edge.

He moans again, low and deep, his hips instinctively bucking up, searching for more of that friction you’re so teasingly withholding. You hum softly, the vibrations making his cock twitch against your tongue. You take him a little deeper, wrapping your lips around the head, sucking gently as you let your hand pump the base, building the tension.

Jungkook’s hands grip the couch tightly, fighting to stay still, his body betraying him with every small thrust of his hips. You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, your tongue working against the underside of his shaft as you slide him further into your mouth. His response is immediate — his body jerks, a strangled groan escapes him, and you feel his hands twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to reach out and grab you.

You reach up and intertwine your fingers with his, and in that simple gesture, a new layer of intimacy blooms between you. His grip is firm, almost desperate, as if holding your hand is the one thing grounding him in the intensity of the moment. It's no longer just about desire; it's something deeper, more vulnerable, a connection that transcends the physical. His thumb gently brushes over your knuckles, a soft, tender contrast to the raw passion swirling around you. That small touch, full of unspoken emotion, speaks louder than words ever could, reminding you both that this is more than just a fleeting moment — it’s a quiet, shared promise.

Jungkook’s breathing becomes even more ragged as you continue to take him deeper, your lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to push him closer to the edge. You can feel his restraint, the way he’s holding back, trying to stay in control despite the pleasure coursing through him.

He groans, your name slipping from his lips in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. You hum softly in response, the vibrations causing another moan to escape his lips. The combination of his hand in yours, his soft gasps, and the warmth of his skin beneath your touch creates an almost overwhelming sense of connection.

You pull off him with a soft, wet pop, leaving his cock glistening in the firelight. Your lips curve into a teasing smile as you drag your tongue slowly along the length of his shaft, watching his reaction. Jungkook’s breath catches, his body tensing with anticipation. When you reach his base, you let your tongue dip lower, tracing a path to his balls. You take your time, licking and teasing the sensitive skin before gently sucking them into your mouth.

The reaction is immediate — his hips jerk up involuntarily, a deep moan escaping him as his head falls back against the couch. His knuckles are white as he grips the cushions, and his fingers tighten around yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment. You keep your eyes on him, enjoying the way his face contorts with pleasure, his lips parting with a shuddering breath.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice rough and strained, the sound vibrating through the air, sending a thrill through you. His chest rises and falls heavily as you continue to pump his cock in your hand, your strokes slow and deliberate, matching the rhythm of your mouth as you suck gently on his balls.

You can feel the tension building in him, his body trembling slightly under your touch. His muscles are taut, straining as he tries to hold himself back, but you know he’s close. The soft, breathless curses he murmurs between groans let you know just how much you're driving him to the edge.

Jungkook’s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more intoxicating than the last. The feel of your mouth wrapped around his cock is overwhelming, your lips warm and slick as they glide over him, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. But what makes his pulse race even more is the sight of you — the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms — on your knees before him, your eyes dark with desire, lips wet and swollen as you take him deeper.

He can barely process it. A part of him feels like he’s lost in a dream, but the grip of your hand on his thigh, the soft, wet sounds filling the air, and the heat of your mouth around him all ground him in reality. His fingers tighten around yours, the intimacy of your entwined hands a stark contrast to the lust coursing through him.

He can’t stop thinking about how utterly beautiful you look, your regal composure gone, replaced by raw want. It’s sinful, how he can feel his cock throbbing in your mouth while your crown sits not too far away, a reminder of who you are — his Queen. And yet, here you are, on your knees, giving yourself to him so completely.

And then there’s the thought of what comes next. His cock twitches at the idea of getting you beneath him, of spreading your legs wide and burying himself in your warmth. He’s desperate to feel you around him, to watch your face twist with pleasure as he takes you, over and over again.

But even with all those thoughts swirling in his mind, one thing keeps echoing louder than the rest: the sheer power of this moment. The Queen, on her knees, sucking his cock like she’s wanted this as much as he has.

The thought sends another wave of heat through his body. He’s barely holding on, every moan, every stroke of your tongue pushing him closer to the edge. His breaths come faster, more ragged, his hips beginning to move on their own, thrusting gently into your mouth. 

Before Jungkook can take control, you pull back, rising from the ground and denying him the release he craves with a teasing smile. His frustrated groan fuels your confidence as you straddle him again, your knees resting on either side of his hips. Your fingers intertwine with his, and you guide both of his hands behind his head, locking your arms around his neck. His arms cross behind him, muscles flexing as he fights to keep himself in check.

The intensity in his eyes is undeniable — burning with desire, frustration, and the raw need to touch you, yet restrained by the control you've taken. Every part of him is taut, his body tense beneath you, waiting, aching for your next move. His gaze never wavers, fixed on you with an almost desperate longing, as if the anticipation alone could undo him.

You lean in slowly, planting a soft kiss on his lips, then another on his cheek, your breath brushing his skin. His chest rises and falls against yours, the heat between you both building to a near unbearable height. Then, lips grazing his ear, you whisper in a low, sultry voice, “I want you to fuck me the way a Queen should be fucked.”

Your words send a shudder through him, his body reacting instantly to your challenge. The restraint he’s been holding onto falters, his breathing turning ragged, his grip tightening slightly on your hands. The dominance of your demand ignites something primal in him, the heat in his gaze searing into you.

"Your Grace..." Jungkook murmurs, his voice deep and breathless, the title slipping out before he can stop it, laced with a mix of reverence and raw, uncontained desire. The slip into formality catches him off guard, as if he’s forgotten to leave the titles behind along with his armor. His jaw clenches, the tension in his body palpable as his control begins to fray at the edges. His eyes burn into yours, dark and hungry, as if your very presence has set him ablaze, and now, all he can do is watch helplessly as the flames consume him.

You feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back, and you smirk, rolling your hips against him, letting the friction drive him further into madness. “Are you going to make me wait, or must I command you again?”

That’s all it takes. His resolve snaps. With a low, feral growl, Jungkook releases your hands and grabs you by the thighs, lifting you effortlessly in one fluid motion. You let out a surprised giggle, heart racing at how easily he’s carrying you across the room. His strength, his commanding presence — it’s intoxicating, making your body heat with anticipation.

With a mischievous grin, he throws you down onto the bed, your body bouncing softly against the mattress. Jungkook is on you in an instant, crawling over you with a predatory grace, his body looming above yours, eyes dark and filled with intent. His hands press into the mattress on either side of you, caging you beneath him. The weight of him, the way his muscles ripple as he moves, has your breath catching in your throat.

His lips hover just inches from yours, teasing, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “I’ll show you exactly how my Queen should be fucked.”

There’s a rough edge to his voice now, one that sends shivers down your spine. His hands trail down your sides, fingers curling around the fabric of your dress, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion. He takes a moment to admire the sight of you beneath him, his gaze smoldering as he drinks in every inch of your bare skin.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Jungkook’s lips descend to your neck, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your throat, your collarbone, and lower still, as his hands grip your hips, holding you firmly in place. His touch is everywhere — greedy, relentless — stoking the fire that’s been building between you all night.

As his mouth moves lower, a soft moan escapes your lips, your body arching instinctively toward him, craving more. And just when you think you can’t take any more teasing, he pulls back, hovering above you once more, eyes dark with lust and promise.

Jungkook pulls off his tunic, standing before you, fully bare. His gaze is unwavering, filled with awe and raw desire as he drinks in the sight of you, every inch of your body drawing him in with quiet reverence. The heat of his stare is palpable, his lips parting slightly as his eyes travel from your breasts down to your stomach, pausing at the faint stretch marks left behind by your children. 

There’s no shame in his gaze, only admiration — those marks are a testament to your strength, the life you’ve brought into the world. His hand reaches out, hesitating for just a second before brushing over your skin, tracing the delicate lines with his fingertips, as if memorizing every detail. His touch is tender, contrasting the heat in his eyes, and the reverence in his expression makes your heart swell. 

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice hushed but filled with sincerity, almost as though he's speaking to himself. The way he looks at you makes your heart swell. There’s no hesitation in his gaze, no second thoughts — just pure admiration.

You can’t help but smile. Despite being nearly bare beneath him, you don’t feel vulnerable. You feel cherished, worshipped even, as if this wasn’t the first time he’s seen you like this. There’s a sense of ease between you, as if his presence was always meant to be like this — intimate and without fear. 

Jungkook leans in closer, his lips trailing down to your hip bone, placing a soft, lingering kiss there. The sensation is both grounding and electrifying, sending a shiver through your body. You glance down, meeting his gaze — intense and burning with desire, the kind of look that makes your heart race and your breath falter. In that moment, you can feel the fire behind his eyes, as if the world has fallen away and you're the only thing that matters.

Without breaking the connection, he lowers himself further, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The kiss is soft, reverent, but full of promise, inching closer to the place where you crave his touch the most. Your breath catches in your throat, anticipation thick in the air, when he finally leans forward and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your pussy through your soaking wet underwear.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the sudden contact, and instinctively, you lift your leg, gently pressing your foot against his shoulder to stop him from going further. His eyes flash with surprise, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in them as he looks up at you, waiting for your command.

“Maybe another time,” you murmur, your voice breathless but firm. “I want your cock.”

Your words hang in the air, heavy with anticipation, and Jungkook’s expression shifts, darkening with pure lust. He gives a low growl of approval, his hands gripping your thighs a little tighter as he quickly moves back up your body.

Jungkook wastes no time, his hands quick but careful as he pulls off your last piece of clothing and positions himself between your legs. His cock, already hard and slick with anticipation, brushes against your entrance, the warmth of him sending a ripple of electricity through your body. You can feel the tension in his muscles, every inch of him taut with restraint as he fights the urge to simply take you. He wants this moment to be more than just a rush of desire.

With a slow, deliberate nudge of his hips, he presses the tip of his cock against your core, the sensation both tantalizing and overwhelming. Your body reacts immediately, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he teases your entrance, the heat between you intensifying. His eyes are locked on yours, as if he’s savoring every second before fully sinking into you. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer, urging him to give you exactly what you’ve been yearning for. His lips crash onto yours in a heated kiss, the moment charged with raw, unspoken passion as he finally pushes into you.

“Oh Gods,” you moan, your back arching off the bed as the sudden stretch overwhelms you. Jungkook fills you completely, every inch of him pressing into you, making your breath hitch as your body adjusts to the delicious pressure. His movements slow for a moment, letting you feel every bit of him, the weight of his body grounding you as the heat between your legs spreads throughout your entire body.

Jungkook’s forehead drops to yours, his breathing ragged as he holds himself still, giving you a moment to adjust. "You feel so perfect," he groans, his voice thick with restraint. His hands roam your body, gripping your hips as though he needs to hold onto something to keep himself from losing control completely.

Your fingers slide up his back, nails grazing his skin as you tug him closer, desperate for more. "Move," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I need you."

That’s all it takes.

With a low growl, Jungkook begins to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, the sensation sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. Each movement is deliberate, deep, and measured. Your moans mix with his breathless grunts, filling the room with the sounds of your shared desire.

Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him deeper with every thrust. His pace quickens, and soon, he’s moving faster, harder, the rhythm building as the pleasure between you grows. Each thrust drives you closer to the edge, your moans growing louder, more desperate as you cling to him, completely lost in the moment. 

Jungkook’s lips find your neck, peppering kisses along your skin between ragged breaths. “You feel so good… so fucking good,” he pants, his hips snapping against yours with growing urgency. 

Your hands tangle in his hair, your body responding to his with a need that’s been simmering for so long, now finally unleashed. "Don’t stop," you moan, your voice shaky as the heat within you builds to a breaking point. 

Jungkook’s thrusts become erratic, his breath hot against your ear. "Don’t think I can stop," he chuckles, his words sending a shiver through you just as the first waves of release begin to crash over you. 

You kiss him eagerly, teeth grazing his bottom lip before tugging at it playfully. Jungkook groans into your mouth, his hips stuttering for a moment at the sensation. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more heated as your hands pull him closer, your nails digging into his back.

He responds in kind, his lips crashing back onto yours, the intensity of his kiss matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He bites gently on your bottom lip in return, making you gasp into his mouth, your bodies completely in sync as the pleasure mounts between you.

Your kiss is a frenzy of passion, tongues dancing, breaths mingling, as every movement pulls you closer to the edge. You tug harder at his lip, and he growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips and sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins.

Jungkook’s pace becomes relentless, his control slipping as he loses himself in you. “The day of the Kingsguard posting,” he starts breathlessly, his voice low and rough as he thrusts into you. “When you walked onto the balcony… I saw you. Thought you were so pretty. So, so pretty.”

His words, spoken between ragged breaths, send a shiver down your spine, making you arch closer into him. You gasp, your hands clutching onto his shoulders as his confession wraps around you like a heated secret. The intensity in his eyes as he speaks, as he moves inside you, is overwhelming — his vulnerability laid bare, a part of himself he’s never shared with anyone else.

“I shouldn’t have thought it,” he continues, his voice thick with desire and restraint as his pace quickens, “but I couldn’t help it. I wanted you from that moment.”

You feel your heart pound in your chest, not just from the pleasure but from his raw honesty. Your lips part, but no words come out, only breathless moans as he pushes you closer to the edge. His hands tighten on your waist, his lips brushing your ear.

“I never thought I’d have you like this,” he whispers, his voice rough with awe and hunger, each word laced with the weight of unspoken desire. “But now that I do… I’m never letting go.”

His confession wraps around you, sending a shiver through your body as his movements become more intense. The passion in his eyes, the way his body presses into yours, has you spiraling, lost in the heat between you.

You raise a trembling hand, gently brushing his hair back, your fingertips lingering against his skin. “I’m yours,” you breathe, the words slipping from your lips like a vow.

The way his eyes darken, the way his grip tightens on you, tells you he’s heard it loud and clear. And in this moment, you know he’ll hold onto that promise as tightly as he holds onto you.

He laughs out a moan at this. His pace quickens, his thrusts deeper, harder, each one sending you spiraling further. Your moans mix with his, filling the room, the sound of skin against skin only adding to the fire between you. His hands roam your body, memorizing every curve, every inch of you like it’s the last time.

“I’m so close,” he whispers, his voice strained, his body trembling as he fights for control. His forehead presses against yours again, his eyes searching yours, desperate, as if he’s asking for permission to lose himself in you.

You nod, your own release building, teetering on the edge. “Cum with me,” you breathe, your voice shaky, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please.”

With a few more deep, powerful thrusts, you feel Jungkook’s body tense as he releases into you, a low groan escaping his lips. The sensation triggers your own climax, waves of pleasure crashing through you as your body tightens around him. You gasp, arching against him, your hands clutching at his back as you ride out the overwhelming sensations together.

His name tumbles from your lips in a soft moan, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. For a moment, the world outside fades — it's just the two of you, tangled together, hearts pounding in sync, as you both come down from your highs.

He doesn’t move right away, his weight still pressed against you, his hands tracing slow, soothing circles on your hips as he catches his breath. You can feel his heart beating wildly against your chest, a silent reminder of the intensity you just shared.

Finally, Jungkook picks his head up from your chest, his dark eyes soft as they meet yours. He leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, just because he finally can. It feels different now, with no hesitation between you, just pure connection. After pulling away, he shifts to lay beside you, pulling you against his chest, your bodies fitting together perfectly. 

You lie there in comfortable silence for a while, both of you catching your breaths, the calm after the storm. Jungkook’s fingers absentmindedly trace shapes on your back, lulling you into a peaceful haze. But then, he breaks the quiet with a teasing tone.

“Did I exceed your expectations, my Queen?” His voice is low and playful, a soft chuckle escaping him.

You laugh, swatting his chest lightly. “Arrogant, are we?” 

But you don’t let him respond. Instead, you sit up, straddling his waist once again, your grin mischievous as you lean down to kiss him, deeper this time, your lips lingering against his. 

“Might need to go again to give you a wholehearted answer,” you say with a smirk, looking down at the man who looks far too comfortable in your bed — a man who, by all means, shouldn’t be here.

His eyes widen for a moment before a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, matching your energy. He chuckles, his hands gripping your waist firmly, his desire evident.

Jungkook knew that once the children were tucked safely into bed, these sneaky nights with you would be his favorite part of the day — full of far more excitement than he’d ever imagined.

The days stretched on like endless hourglasses, the sand moving far too slowly. Every moment of the daylight hours was consumed by anticipation, the constant pull of wanting the sun to sink and the moon to rise. It was during the night, when Jungkook would slip quietly into your chamber, that the world finally felt right.

Whether it was tangled sheets, quiet conversations, soft laughter, or simply lying in each other’s arms, those moments with him were the highlight of your days — only second to the joy of your children’s smiles, of course. But with Jungkook, time seemed to bend, each night feeling like a stolen treasure that you cherished more with every passing hour.

As much as you despised the act of walking past Jungkook during the day, pretending he wasn't your lover at night, the thrilling game of trying not to get caught was undeniably fun.

The secret, the tension of it, had its own special allure. Yet, there were moments when the near misses took a more terrifying turn.

Like that one time.

You'd been soaking in a bath, the water warm and fragrant with bubbles, the steam swirling around you like a blanket of comfort. But Jungkook, always unpredictable, had snuck in without a sound. Before you could even protest, he was stripping himself bare, sliding into the tub with you, the sudden shift in water making a small splash as he settled in.

Laughter filled the room as water overflowed, but that quickly faded into a mix of heavy breaths, wet skin, and the sound of sloppy kisses. Jungkook's hands gripped your waist as he leaned back, his head resting against the tub's edge, eyes locked on you. Your hips moved in sync, the sound of water splashing and your soft moans combining with his groans, creating a rhythm that made your heart race.

Then, just as the heat between you both reached its peak, a knock at the door shattered the moment. It was so sudden and unexpected that Jungkook's hand shot up, covering your mouth before you could release a gasp, freezing you in place. Your breath caught, heart pounding in your chest.

"Your Grace, I have your warm towels," came a muffled voice from the other side of the door. The maid sounded so oblivious, so unaware of what was actually happening just beyond the wooden barrier.

Jungkook didn't move a muscle, still as stone, his hand resting over your lips as his eyes met yours with a mischievous glint. Slowly, he lifted his hand, urging you to speak.

"J- just leave them at the door," you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heartbeat betrayed your calm facade. "I’ll grab them once I'm finished."

Jungkook stifled a chuckle, clearly finding the entire situation amusing as though it was nothing more than a joke to him. But you knew better. This was dangerous, reckless, and could cost both of you far more than just embarrassment.

"Very well, Your Grace," came the maid's voice, before the sound of her footsteps faded into the distance.

The moment she was gone, you slapped Jungkook's chest, eyes narrowed in mock fury. "We could've been caught," you said, your voice laced with both exasperation and something else — something darker, more thrilling. But the smile that tugged at your lips betrayed your feigned seriousness.

Jungkook grinned, his chest rising and falling with a quiet chuckle, as he pulled you back toward him, the playful tension still lingering in the air.

Because nights with Jungkook were always too short, he made sure to steal as many kisses and playful winks during the day as possible. The fleeting moments shared between you were like stolen treasures, hidden in plain sight.

Whenever the children finished their lessons, Jungkook was quick to position himself in front of the door to the next room they’d move into, knowing you'd soon follow, eager to check on them and hear about what they’d learned. Each time, like clockwork, you’d approach, ready to step past him, only for him to block your way with a teasing grin.

“Let me in,” you’d whine softly, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

He’d simply point to his cheek, signaling for a kiss as if he were making a royal decree. You’d roll your eyes but play along, leaning in. Just as your lips brushed his cheek, he’d turn his head swiftly, catching your kiss on his lips instead.

Your heart would race as you quickly pecked his lips once more, a mixture of thrill and worry filling you at the thought of someone walking down the corridor and catching you both. With a final flustered glance at him, you’d hurry into the chamber to join your children, trying to maintain your composure as you asked them about their day.

Meanwhile, Jungkook would stand tall outside the door, his expression serious, as though he was merely guarding the room. But the sparkle in his eyes and the lingering hint of a smile betrayed him, the playful mischief still present even as he forced himself to appear composed.

The only person who knew about your secret relationship with Jungkook was Atticus. You’d confided in him, and he had been overjoyed to learn he’d been right all along. He had always suspected something, but hearing it from you only fueled his excitement and pride at being in on the secret.

Jungkook’s devotion to you went far beyond his duty as a knight. On the surface, he played his role flawlessly, always by your side, always vigilant. To everyone else, he was simply your loyal protector, the ever watchful guard who would give his life without question. But beneath that armor, beneath the stern facade he wore in public, his loyalty ran much deeper.

He wasn’t just devoted to you as his Queen; he was devoted to you as the woman he loved, with a fierce, unshakable passion that transcended titles or obligations. Every time he stood by your side, it wasn’t just as your sworn knight but as the man who would do anything to keep you safe, even if it meant loving you in secret for the rest of his life.

In the quiet moments, when the world wasn’t watching, his love shone through. The way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way his fingers lingered just a moment longer when they brushed against yours, or the way his lips would curl into a faint smile when he caught you stealing glances at him. It was in the way he held you at night, after everyone else had gone to bed, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that spoke of a love so deep, words could never do it justice.

Jungkook didn’t need grand gestures or declarations of love. His devotion was in the small things, the quiet sacrifices, the way he protected you not just with his sword but with his heart. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word in the darkness was a testament to his unwavering loyalty — not to the crown, not to his duty, but to you.

And though the world might never see the depth of his devotion, you felt it every day. In the way he watched over you, in the way he shielded you from not only physical threats but from the weight of loneliness that sometimes crept in. He was your protector, not just in body but in spirit.

As the years passed, your secret love remained hidden, but his devotion never wavered. No matter the risks, no matter how many times you had to pretend in public that he was nothing more than a knight, Jungkook’s heart was yours, fully and completely.

In the end, it didn’t matter that the world would never know the truth. You knew. You saw the way he loved you, not just as a knight sworn to protect you but as a man devoted to your heart, forever bound to you in a way that went beyond duty or title.

And in that devotion, you found your peace. Because you knew, no matter what happened, Jungkook would always be by your side — not just as your protector but as your lover, your confidant, and the one person who truly understood the depths of your soul.

© voyter 2024, all rights reserved.

[pollenallergie]

that specific scene where oliver’s walking away from the pub and This Modern Love by Bloc Party plays… mhm mhm i think about this often, yes i do.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be. 

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant. 

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace. 

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you. 

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?” 

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry 

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read. 

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once. 

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now. 

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time. 

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door. 

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie. 

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches. 

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door. 

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes. 

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

[nanaslutt]

choso with tongue piercing? >_<

hngh i need his tongue inside me :(

😝

Bestfriend!Choso X Reader :3

contains: fem reader, teasing, dirty talk, exhibitionism (they're in a car), sexual tension, oral (r!receiving), Choso’s first time giving head, slight jealousy, whipped!Choso & reader, first time receiving, reader has a bad track record w/ guys, mentions of bj, so soft & sweet

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Holy fuck." You swallowed hard at the view in front of you. "My brother convinced me to get it done when he got some of his piercings, said it could be a bonding experience," Choso explained, putting his tongue decorated with the little silver ball back into his mouth. "Did it hurt?" You asked, your mind still reeling that he had hidden a tongue piercing from you for all these years.

"It wasn't horrible, I'm pretty good with pain. I don't really see the point in having it pierced though." He started to explain, "No one ever sees it, even I forget it's there sometimes." Choso finished. You just smiled and nodded, pretending to listen as he kept talking about his experience getting pierced.

You had already thought of 400 scenarios in which you would let choso put his tongue (and piercing) to work on your body, so the pain he went to to get the pretty jewelry wouldnt be in vain. One particular scenario stood out in your head of him tongue fucking you, feeling the metal against your clit and- "You okay?" Choso's voice rang in your ears.

"Huh?" You said, pulling yourself from your daydream. "I asked if you would ever get your tongue pierced and you just froze up." He explained, scrunching his eyebrows together. "Oh! Oh right! I uh, I'm pretty squeamish around needles so thinking about it makes me a little... nervous" You lied through your teeth, thanking the universe that he seemed to believe it.

For the rest of the day the two of you spent together, the only thing you could focus on was his piercing. Unbeknownst to you, he had caught you several times. Choso had purposely run his tongue over his lips to wet them, every so often, just to see your breath hitch when you got a glimpse of the silver.

As he was driving the two of you back to his house for a nightcap, some relaxing song playing in the background, you spoke up through the silence, "Thanks for today Choso! I know the night isn't over yet but the museum you took us to was so much fun, we have to go to the cafe inside next time!" you exclaimed. He turned his head away from the road to look at you, before returning his gaze on the dark street.

"I'm surprised you remembered there was a cafe." He said, a hint of teasing, and snarkiness hiding in his voice. "Huh?" You voiced, tilting your head at him in confusion. "You seemed out of it today." He elaborated, "Is there something going on?" He asked, keeping his voice and face fairly monotone. His question caught you off guard, had you really been acting that weird all day? So much so that he picked up on it? Oh god.

"No! No, I'm just a little tired today, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be weird." You forced out a laugh, once again coming up with a quick and hopefully believable lie. Unluckily for you, Choso saw right through it. "Are you sure? Because you were acting fine until I showed you my piercing." He said, hitting the nail right on the head.

You froze, not expecting him to be able to pinpoint the exact moment in the day you started behaving strangely, why was he so damn observant? "Oh.. really?" You said, no bullshit lies or excuses coming to your tongue, so you tried to laugh it off instead, saying something about a coincidence. "Did me sharing that make you uncomfortable?" He said, making you immediately reassure him that was absolutely not the case.

He turned the car onto your street, driving slowly down the dark path and towards your house. The two of you have been friends for the longest time, spending practically every second together any chance you got, so of course he knew the way to your house like the back of his hand.

"Oh my god no! No choso, really it's.. it's nothing.." You panicked slightly, not wanting him to feel bad for you being a perv and not being able to control yourself over a piercing. You sighed heavily, scrunching your face up as you seriously contemplated telling him what was really going on with you today.

No matter what you did you couldn't stop imagining your oblivious best friend's tongue between your legs, flicking your clit with his tongue and teasing the bud with the cold metal. You wanted to feel guilty you really did, but the vision was too delicious to feel any remorse.

"Does it turn you on?" He asked, pulling into your driveway and putting the car into part before he unbuckled himself and turned his body to face you. The expression on his face was unreadable, which made you nervous. Your face was heating up, and your mouth dropped open and closed like a fish out of water, trying to think of a response as your brain processed his unexpected words. You really didn't want your long-term secret crush on your best friend to be exposed like this.

"The piercing, does it turn you on?" He asked again, rephrasing his question. Oh god.. he was going to call you a perv and kick you out of the car, leaving you cold and alone in your own driveway if you said yes right? He would definitely think you were weird, who thinks about their best friend in that way?

You opted to shut your mouth, as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and nodded as softly as you could, unsure of your own actions. He looked past you, scanning the outside around the two of you to make sure there were no witnesses before he spoke his next words. "Wanna find out why I actually got this piercing?" He asked, making your face turn a dark shade of crimson as you whispered out a needy, "Please.."

--

"Fuck- Ohmygod right there Choso- Fuck!" Your hands dug into his soft strands of hair as he ate you out like a man starved. He had you on your back in the backseat of the car, legs splayed out for him as he laid between them, feasting on your cunt. He flattened his tongue out against your clit, making sure the ball of the piercing was kissing the little bud before he shook his head back and forth, stimulating your clit against it.

It had happened so fast, he had leaned forward and pressed your lips together, asking if this was okay before he unbuckled your seatbelt while you were distracted, and somehow the two of you had ended up in the backseat. You weren't sure why he didn't just drag you inside but you couldn't lie that the thrill of doing something like this in the car was exciting.

Choso scissored his fingers in and out of you, abusing your g-spot with the pads of his digits as they curled up against it. His tongue was working you over so well, he drew his name over and over on your clit, occasionally sucking it into his warm mouth and humming around it, sending delicious vibrations through your cunt.

Choso had never told you about any of his sexual conquests, so you werent really sure what to expect in terms of how well he would do when he said he was going to eat you out. Now you were begining to think he had a side job as a porn star or something because his technique was unreal.

"H-how are you so fucking g-good mph!" You cut yourself off with a whine when he suckled your clit particularly hard, making your body jolt against him. Truthfully, Choso had never eaten anyone out before, but he most definitely had watched porn and practiced on his hand for the day he got the courage to ask you out.

He wasn't expecting the opportunity to fall into his lap this easily, so when he saw your eyes light up at his piercing, he internally thanked the gods that you caught a glimpse of it in the sun, which led to him revealing the jewelry to you.

Choso always paid the utmost attention to you, without you even knowing it. He knew what you liked and disliked, he even so much as knew every detail about your tone and facial expressions to make sure you were constantly pleased and comfortable, he always wanted the best for you after all.

He watched how people would break your heart and toss you aside like you were nothing, it alwasy made him furious. They were absolute idiots to give you up, he hated seeing you sad over some unemployed nobody who never really cared about you from the start. Althogh he hated them, he couldnt help but feel a little grateful for them. If it werent for them taking you for granted, you might be in a relationship still, and the two of you wouldnt be in his backseat right now.

Choso moaned against your core when your hands tightened in his hair, rolling his eyes at the feeling of your nails digging into his scalp. "Does it feel good?" He said back, knowing damn well your answer. "Yes, yes Choso, fuck!" You moaned, dropping your chin to watch him work between your thighs.

He was already looking at you when your eyes locked with his. His eyebrows scrunched together upon feeling your gaze, keeping his dark eyes on yours as he ate you out with more vigor, drinking in your body’s every reaction to his tongue. The vibrations from his deep groans were going to push you over the edge. "Choso- Choso I'm close," You whined, fighting your eyes from rolling back in your head so you could keep your eyes on his and watch him do his thing.

He was so unbelievably handsome like this, the streetlights casting beautiful shadows on his face, and his expression was so needy it made your heart skip a beat. The way his eyebrows mimicked your expressions whenever he did something that felt particularly good, was so hot, he was so attentive.

The man between your legs was feeling drunk. This was something he only dreamed of and it was actually happening. He felt like his cock was going to burst from just tasting you alone, but he would gladly make home between your thighs forever. "Please," He begged from between your legs, scrunching his eyebrows together as he ate you out with more vigor.

He released his fingers from your tight hole and opted to replace them with his tongue, pressing his face as tightly against you as he could to make sure his tongue was fucking inside you as deep as possible, making sure to lick his tongue upwards against your walls so you could feel his piercing inside you. His fingers came to rub little circles on your clit with expert precision, making your legs start to shake.

You dug your nails against his scalp as you humped your hips against his face, hearing his muffled moans encourage you from between your thighs. "Ohmygod Choso! I-I'm cumming-" You wined before you felt the knot start to unravel. Choso swore he almost came in his pants at how sensually you cried out his name, mentally recording it for later.

He kept up his ministrations on your pussy, drinking up everything you gave him as you came hard on his face, squishing his soft cheeks between your thighs. He was mesmerized as he watched your body shake and curl in on itself, he stared at your mouth as it dropped open and spilled out profanities and whines of his name, broken on your tongue. When your back relaxed against the seat of the car once more he slowed his fingers on your clit, careful to not overstimulate you.

"Holy f-fuck Choso." You whispered, leaving your hands in his hair and running them through your own, wiping the sweat from your forehead. You took a quick look around in the post haze of your orgasm and noticed how foggy the windows were, so much for trying not to be obvious; anyone with half a brain would know what was going on if they walked past your car.

After he made sure he licked you clean, he pulled his face back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, raising his body to sit comfortably on the seat as his other large hand came to caress your thigh soothingly. "Was that okay?" He asked, looking at you like a puppy.

"Okay?" You repeated, astonished he was asking as if he didn't just witness how hard you came, "I'm pretty sure that was the best orgasm I've ever had in my life." You laughed, making him smile at your words as your hand came down on top of his while he was petting your thigh. "Thank felt so good Choso, thank you." You said blushing as you closed your legs, noticing how exposed you were in comparison to him.

Of course, he picked up on this, he reached over to pick up your previously discarded panties from the floor of the car, wiping them off before he handed them, alone with your pants, to you. You said your thanks to him and he nodded shyly, a stark difference to how he was acting moments ago. It wasn't till you were almost finished getting dressed again when you noticed his massive boner. How did you not see it before? You felt so bad for letting him sit like that for god knows how long.

"Choso, you're hard." You said, stating the obvious. The man blushed and pulled his t-shirt over his hard-on to cover it. "Let me take care of it for you." You offered, leaning your body over his and placing your hands on his toned thighs, "I-Its okay-" His warm hands came down to grab your forearms, stopping you. "What? Really? It doesn't look okay," You giggled, looking up between your lashes at him.

Of course, he wanted you to get him off, that sounded perfect, but he needed to properly take care of you first. Your legs were still trembling and you were still out of breath, on top of that he could tell you were tired; that orgasm had taken a lot out of you, so he could wait. "Don't worry about me, I'll go down." He assured, rubbing his hands on your wrists soothingly and making you hum. "I still need to clean you up and make sure you're okay." He finished, making you blush. No man has ever said that to you before, and no man has ever eaten you out before tonight either but you wouldn't tell Choso that right now.

Truthfully, you were feeling tired, and the prospect of Choso cleaning you up didnt sound half bad right now, "Are you sure? It really wont take long." You offered one last time. He smiled and pushed your arms off of his thighs so he could leave the car, "Im sure, some other time." He said boldly, making you nod silently as he opened the car door and stepped out.

You started to do the same but his voice stopped you in your tracks, "Don't move." He ordered, so you didn't. It didn't take long after he shut his own door that he was opening yours, Choso now standing in front of you as he leaned inside the car and scooped you into his arms, making you giggle as he slammed the door behind him. "Choso! I can walk." You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he held you in a princess carry.

"Don't wanna take any chances, your legs are still trembling pretty hard." He said, making you blush and want to hide away at his exposing words. "I think you're the sweetest man I'll ever know." You said to him, smiling at his blushing face as he quickly avoided his eyes with yours. He moved his hand to effortlessly type in your door code as he brought the both of you inside, away from the chilly air.

I better be, he wanted to say, but opted to only acknowledge your words with a hum as the front door clicked shut behind the both of you.

[katsu28]

home is wherever you are

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: secretly falling in love with your best friend is tough. secretly falling in love with your best friend who also happens to be your roommate is even less than ideal. the solution? move out! (hint: it isn’t a very good one.) (5k)

warnings: angst with a happy ending, a smidge of google translated french lol

a/n: CHARLES LECLERC!!! CHARLES LECLERC!!!!LECLERC!!! LECLERAUGHCOUGHCOUGH

“I still cannot believe you’re abandoning me.” 

Charles shoved another box of your things into the boot of your car rather huffily, as if to reiterate just how unhappy he was. 

“I’m not abandoning you, I’m moving out of your apartment.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully at him. You passed him the last box off the ground, wiping your hands off on your shorts before propping them on your hips. 

“That is quite literally the same thing.” He mirrored your stance in total seriousness, frown unwavering. “And it’s not my apartment, it’s yours now too. Your home.” 

You’d been living with Charles for a while now, having been suddenly evicted from your own place three, almost four years ago. With nowhere else to go, you’d turned to your best friend, and Charles had welcomed you with open arms, giving you a home when you’d needed it most. 

There were many good things about living with Charles—he liked to cook (which boded well with you, seeing as you were no master chef yourself. Except for when he’d gone through a questionable phase of combining cuisines that did not go well together.), he was respectful of set boundaries and agreed upon rules. You had the same taste in shows and movies, which made for little fighting when it came to deciding on what to watch. 

But most notably, he loved to play the piano. It was a hobby he’d picked up during long days spent staying at home, and he was good at it too. An electronic keyboard when he’d first started out, just to see if it was something he was serious about, but as he zoomed through the basics with ease, he’d splurged on a gorgeous white piano that stood proudly in the living room. 

Soon enough, it wasn’t unusual for the apartment to be full of music, beautiful songs of Charles’ own composing. 

He played whenever he had the feeling. Whenever he had something on his mind, whenever he was bored, anything, he’d spend hours at the piano, playing, playing, playing. Some might’ve called it annoying, but not you. You found it rather soothing. 

It had very quickly become a habit of yours to fall asleep listening to Charles play. Something about it seemed to always relax you just enough to the point where you could pretty much fall asleep anywhere if he was at the bench. 

Your favorite spot was on the sofa with a big blanket, watching him get lost in the notes until you drifted off. More often than not, you could rarely get a good night’s sleep without Charles’ accompaniment—your very own version of white noise. 

But truth be told, this past year of living together with Charles had been trickier than the first couple. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things began to change, but something had definitely shifted between you. 

You’d been trying to write it off just the two of you being very close, but you’d been dancing on the line of close friends and more than friends for a long time. Falling asleep together cuddled on the sofa, lingering touches whilst you were in the same room and in passing, hugs that lasted a little too long to be considered normal. 

The more your feelings for Charles grew, the more worried you became. Worried about what, you weren’t exactly sure. All you knew was you didn’t want to lose the longest and best friendship you’d ever had because you went and fell in love.

“I know. But I think it’s well past time I get out of your hair and try being on my own for once.” You said softly, stepping in to fold yourself into Charles’ arms. 

Most of that was true. You did feel like you needed to live by yourself for a chance, to see what it was like to be fully independent in your adult life. You’d moved in with Charles when you were twenty two, and you were twenty five now. It was time for you to venture out on your own. 

But the uncertainty of falling in love with your best friend was definitely also a contributing factor. 

He made a displeased sound at your words, but tucked you under his chin nonetheless. “I don’t want you to get out of my hair. My hair likes it with you here.” 

“I live fifteen minutes away, Cha. I’m not moving across the country. You and your hair can come over anytime.” You scoffed, giving him a gentle poke in the ribs. “And I’ll come over here all the time too, you know that.” 

“Fine, fine. I don’t know what I am supposed to do with your empty room now, but I’ll figure it out. Maybe I will take up scrapbooking. Knitting. Needlepoint, maybe. Turn it into a craft room.” 

“Maybe you can turn it into a music room. Move the keyboard in there, your piano.” 

“Ah, bien entendu, my piano. How will you ever fall asleep without my sweet, sweet melodies?” 

“I think I will manage just fine.” You chuckled. 

Charles held you at arms’ length, dark brows furrowing as he scowled. “What I’m hearing is you don’t love me anymore.” 

Oh, if only he knew. 

You smiled instead, patting his cheek good-naturedly. “Come on, you drama queen. I want to move in before the sun goes down.” 

Charles went full protection mode the second all your belongings had made it safely inside the apartment, intently checking every lock, window, door hinge, cabinet—not an inch of the apartment went uninspected by him. When he seemed fairly satisfied with his safety checks, he returned to where you were unpacking kitchen items over by the oven.

“Everything up to your standards?” You asked, pulling out a stack of plates wrapped in brown paper. Charles shuffled over, easing them out of your hands and unwrapping them to help put them up in the cabinet. “No one is going to break in through my window tonight?”

“Don’t even joke about that.” He grumbled, chucking the balled up paper at you gently. “Everything I checked is fine. You will be safe here.” 

Food was simple when it came time for dinner—takeout on the floor of your living room, because you hadn’t had the time to go shopping for a coffee table yet. Or a dining room table. Or even chairs, really. All you had were some pillows and an overturned cardboard box to put the food on. 

Charles had insisted on helping you furnish the whole place before you moved in but you’d declined, saying that you wanted to get a feel for the place before filling it with everything. The last time it would be this empty would be the day you moved out. 

He seemed a little quiet the rest of the night, but you didn’t press it until after dinner, whilst he was helping you with the washing up. Well, helping was a strong word. 

“You’ve been drying that plate for ages now.” You observed, tilting your head at him thoughtfully. Charles inhaled sharply, shaking his head like he’d been snapped out of a stupor. He glanced down at the completely dry plate, then back up at you blankly. “What’re you thinking about?” 

“You’re really going to be gone.”

“You say that like I told you I’ve only got days to live. I won’t be gone, Cha. I’ll be around.” You chuckled, flicking dish soap bubbles in his direction. Charles responded by flinging his towel at you, cracking a smile. You liked it when he smiled, hated it when he frowned. He was still unfairly attractive, but it wasn’t Charles’ scowl that made you fall in love with him. 

“We can spend the day together anytime, you can come over whenever you want, and if it makes you feel any better, I will give you your very own key.” 

That seemed to put him a little more in higher spirits. 

 “What will you ever do without me?” He wondered out loud, feigning a thoughtful expression. 

“Probably clean up a lot less. Be able to take a shower without running out of hot water halfway through. Oh! Have a bottle of shampoo last more than a month because someone—not naming names, of course, won’t use it because they’ve run out of theirs. Not have to fight for—” 

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Charles huffed, grabbing you by the shoulders and promptly shoving your face into his chest to stop you from talking. 

You grinned against the softness of his hoodie. “Shall I go on?” 

“No, no you shouldn’t.” His hold on you loosened, but you stayed right where you were, wrapping your arms around his torso. “Just admit it. You’ll miss me.” 

“I will miss you.” You said softly, pressing your cheek into the crook of his neck. If there was something Charles was unbelievably good at (besides literally anything he’d ever tried), it was giving the best hugs. Something about them made you feel safe, like nothing and nobody could ever hurt you as long as you were in his arms. 

“You already know how much I’m going to miss having you around.” 

“Yeah, I am pretty great.” 

A laugh rumbled through his chest. “You are.” 

“You’ve been the best roommate I could’ve asked for. Thank you for everything.” Your words were muffled between the two of you, and you were glad for it, because he didn’t seem to notice the waver in your tone. But he did squeeze you a little tighter, so maybe he did hear you. “I love you, Cha.” 

Charles’ voice seemed to waver just a bit too. “I love you too.” 

“Okay, okay, you really need to leave. Go before I change my mind and make you stay.” You blurted, pushing him away playfully. It was better than letting him see you get emotional. 

“Is that a promise?” 

“No, it’s a threat. Go home. I will see you soon.” You gave his hand one last squeeze, nodding reassuringly to rid him of the crease between his brows. “Don’t worry about me. Go, get some rest.” 

It was only then that he seemed satisfied enough to leave, but even then, he cast another backwards glance towards you on his way down the hall, as if he was waiting for you to beckon him back. You just smiled as best you could. 

You’d get over it. You had to. There was still a lot you needed to get done before you called it a night. 

It wasn’t until you were getting ready to go to bed that you started to feel lonely. You and Charles had your respective bedtime routines, but they always intertwined. 

You never liked being the one to turn off all the lights in the apartment because the switch was at the end of the hallway opposite from your bedrooms, so he knew to do it because you hated running back through the darkness after flipping the switch. 

He always filled a glass with water for late night sipping, but never remembered to actually bring it to his room until he was already in bed, so you always grabbed it for him so he wouldn’t have to make the trek back out the kitchen.  

The bathroom counter was where you’d find each other the most, terrible jokes and funny stories told muffled through toothpaste bubbles, even though you could’ve just waited until you were finished to tell each other. You’d flick water at him as you washed your face because he took up too much space at the sink, he’d turn off the tap in retaliation, things like that. 

Sometimes Charles would stay up later playing video games with his friends, or take some extra time to practice piano, so you wouldn’t get to do your well oiled machine routine, but he’d always take the extra second to pop into your room to say goodnight when he heard you bustling around, even if he was in the middle of something. 

The times you fell asleep on the sofa to Charles’ playing the piano, he’d camp out at the other end of the sofa for the night, or at the very least made sure you were covered with a blanket if he went to sleep in his own room. 

It was something you’d grown accustomed to over the years, oftentimes the well-needed end to a not so great day. Charles never failed to put a smile on your face, even with something as small and mundane as a bedtime routine. 

But there was none of that as you ran through your routine this time. 

You didn’t hear him shuffling around over in the other room, the muffled sounds of his shouts as he played his games, and most of all, you didn’t hear him and his piano. 

Because there was no Charles. Of course there wasn’t. You were in this new place that you hadn’t had quite nearly enough of a chance to get used to yet, alone, and it was finally settling in. 

Suddenly moving out and away from him seemed like the worst decision in the world. 

You knew it was only the first night. You had to give yourself a chance to reacclimate, and that would take time. So you inhaled a deep breath, trying to get as comfy as you could for a long, probably sleepless night ahead. 

It was nearing four in the morning when you finally decided to give up and call Charles. Part of you thought he might not even pick up the phone, because he was probably asleep. Any sane person would be sleeping right now. 

Much to your surprise, he answered on the second ring. 

“Why are you awake?” You asked, maybe a bit harshly. 

“Um, you are the one who called me? Why are you awake?” He replied, groggy voice still teasing. His accent always grew thicker when he was sleepy. You thought it was adorable. “You cannot sleep, can you?” 

“...No.” Your voice grew smaller. You felt embarrassed at the fact that you couldn’t even make it one full night without Charles around. “I just…I wanted to hear your voice, I guess. I miss you already, Cha.” 

Charles fell silent for a few moments, the only sound on his side of the line being his gentle exhales. “I miss you too. Do you want me to come over? I can stay the night, if you want.” 

“No. No, you don’t need to do that.” You said softly. “Can you just talk to me?” 

This was also something that had become somewhat of a ritual when either of you couldn’t sleep. 

You’d tiptoe into each other’s rooms quiet as a mouse, slipping into bed beside the other. Charles always stirred when he felt the bed dip under your weight, half asleep but still reaching out to pull you against his chest like it was second nature. On the occasions when he came into your room, you’d feel him tuck himself close to you, nosing against any part of you he could find with a content sigh. 

There was no rhyme or reason to the things you’d talk about in those moments, but eventually, somehow, you’d both end up asleep, usually fairly quickly. Maybe it was the extra added comfort of each other that helped, you could never tell. 

It wasn’t unusual to wake up a jumble of limbs tangled together, and neither of you ever addressed it either. Just went on with your business as usual, never talking about it because it was just something you did. To help each other sleep, of course. 

Another thing that really blurred the line between friends and more. 

Charles hummed a noncommittal sound, soft and fond like he always was around you. “I’ll do you one better. How about I play some music for you?” 

“Yes, please. Thank you.” You sighed, relieved. He knew what you needed without you even having to ask. 

You heard him get up, footsteps padding along until there was a thud and some shuffling coming from Charles’ side. A few warm up scales in and you were already feeling a little less anxious, letting yourself get comfortable. 

“Any requests from the audience?” 

“Been working on anything new?” You yawned, nuzzling a little deeper back into your pillow. 

“I have, actually. It’s still—fuck, how do you say it…a work in progress?”

“Anything you play is perfect.”

“You flatter me.” He snorted. “Alright, here goes nothing.”  

He began to play. You knew jack shit about music, so there wasn’t much you could think of to describe how it sounded, but you could describe how it felt. You could almost feel the emotion pouring from his playing, even through the scratchy quality of the speaker. 

It felt like something you’d hear in the background of a movie montage, lilting and delicate and warm notes swirling together to create a bright melody, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. 

Memories of good times with Charles flashed through your head—all the long days and even longer nights you’d spent together because you thrived in each other’s company, cooking together, binging Netflix shows until you both passed out on the sofa. 

Hushed laughing during dinners at fancy restaurants that Charles could get into by flashing his name, soft conversations accompanied with expensive food and even more expensive wine. 

Day trips up the coast with the top down on the car, pushing the speed limit just to feel an ounce of the freedom that it could give you. Walking through Monte Carlo on late night gelato runs, switching flavors because you both enjoyed each other’s choice more than your own. 

Most of all, you thought of the love you felt for Charles, ever since you’d first met him. You’d never been one to believe in the concept of soulmates, but fuck, it was so easy to think of him as yours. Never had you felt as much for someone as you did for him. 

God, why were you even thinking of those things? 

It would never happen. Any love that Charles had for you would be strictly platonic, limited to however much one could love their best friend. 

Surely he’d drawn inspiration from something else when he’d composed the beautiful piece. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know. 

Soon enough, you’d drifted off like you always did when Charles played, coincidentally right before he came to a lingering stop. 

Had you been awake, you would’ve heard him say that the beautiful piece had been inspired by you. Instead you were fast asleep, still none the wiser to anything. Maybe it was a good thing. You might not have believed it if you’d heard him. 

-------

Charles was on your doorstep first thing in the morning, coffee and pastries in hand when you opened the door for him. 

“Hello, good morning, your savior is here. And with breakfast!” He chirped, coming to just enough of a halt for you to slide an arm around his shoulders in a hug and grab one of the drinks out of the tray before he swept past you.

Bright morning sunlight poured into the open area, washing the whole place aglow. A warm breeze floated in through the ajar window, rattling the shutters only slightly, and you could hear the all too familiar sounds of the city in the morning coming from the streets below. It was a gorgeous picture of peace; one of the apartment’s many fun quirks that convinced you to go for it in the first place. 

The only thing that might’ve rivaled the beauty of the moment was Charles standing at the window, leaning against the sill drinking his coffee while the breeze ruffled his hair. His back was to you as he checked out the view, but even the mere image of him here was nice. 

You sipped your own coffee, smiling to yourself when you realized Charles remembered exactly how you took it. You didn’t even need to look inside the bag to know they were your favorite pastries from the bakery down the street from your former apartment that both you and Charles loved. He was always thoughtful like that. Things like remembering your favorite foods and drinks, and going out of his way to get them as a little pick-me-up. 

It seemed wrong to ruin the moment, but you felt like you had to say something. 

“I’m sorry for waking you up last night.” You sighed, taking a cross-legged seat on a pillow. 

Charles turned away from the window, shaking his head quickly. He took a seat on the floor next to you, long legs stretching out towards your crossed ones to nudge a sneaker against your socked foot. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’m glad you called me.” 

“Right, but it’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? First time on my own and I didn’t even last a whole night.” 

“Not pathetic.” He insisted, entirely firm in his words. He set his cup down as if it could strengthen his point. “It is a change, definitely. You can’t expect yourself to get used to such a big change immediately. It takes time, you know.” 

You messed with the lid of your cup, picking at the plastic with a scowl. “I know. But I can’t always come running to you whenever I need help. It’s not fair to you to have to keep rescuing me every time I need saving.” 

“Okay…” He trailed off, stretching out the last syllable in confusion. “I feel this is about something more than just last night. We can talk about it, if you would like?”

“I don’t know what it is.” You huffed. “I thought I was ready to be on my own, but maybe I’m not. Maybe I don’t know I’m doing and I’ll never figure it out, and—” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Where is this all coming from?” 

“I don’t know,” You repeated, bordering on a whine. “But what I do know is that I can’t always keep relying on you for everything. It’s not good for me, or for you.” 

“You know, you could always just move back home if you’re truly not ready to do things on your own.” Charles offered, taking a casual sip of his own drink.

Home. He said it so casually, like home was with him instead of this new place you’d chosen to make yours. In a way, Charles was your home. Safety, comfort, love—all the things that made something home, you felt with him. 

That was the problem. You didn’t feel right relying on him for all those things, not without him being aware of how you actually felt about him. It seemed like too much of a burden to put on a friend, even one as perfect as Charles. 

His eyes met yours over the rim and he shrugged. “I still don’t know why you were so insistent on moving out in the first place.” 

You sighed, again. There weren’t many ways you could make yourself any clearer. Other than telling Charles one of the real reasons why you had to leave, which again, was more of a last resort (hopefully not at all) type of thing. “It was time—” 

“It was time for you to venture out on your own, yes, I know. But it doesn’t seem to be working out so well right now, does it not?” The last sentence seemed to slip out of Charles’ mouth before he knew what he was saying, because his mouth snapped shut right afterward. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I don’t want to argue.” 

But what had been done was done, what had been said was out there for you to know. Your coffee suddenly left a bitter taste in your mouth, and the traffic from outside became glaringly loud. The once peaceful atmosphere had been shattered now that you knew Charles’ true thoughts on it all. 

You stood up, letting your feet take you across the room from him. “No. Tell me more, Charles. Tell me how you really feel.” 

His nose wrinkled at the use of his full name. You never called him Charles unless you were upset with him, which wasn’t that often. Even hearing it come out of your own mouth seemed foreign. 

That seemed to change his reaction, because he stood too instead, doubling down on his words. “Okay. Yes, that is how I feel about you leaving. You barely even talked to me about it, and the next thing I knew, you were packing all your things into boxes! I didn’t understand where this—this sudden desire to leave came from. I still don’t.”

“You don’t have to understand it. It’s already done.” 

“Did I—did I do something wrong?”

You almost faltered. Almost.

“Did you ever think maybe me wanting to leave had nothing to do with you?” 

“Honestly? No. It feels like it has everything to do with me. It feels like you moved out because you didn’t want to be around me anymore!” Charles exclaimed. “And I have kept my mouth shut, I’ve been trying to be supportive of your decision, but I think I have a right to know. Am I why you wanted to leave so badly?” 

“That’s…part of it.” You admitted. Charles froze, brows flying up towards his hairline. “But not because of anything you did. Not because of the reason you’re thinking of.” 

“I don’t really see any other explanation. And I am sorry, but that is a shit excuse. I would’ve thought that you of all people would tell me the truth.” He didn’t sound angry, just disappointed and a little hurt. Somehow that felt worse. You’d rather him be mad at you than hurt by you. 

“I didn’t want to move out.” You said firmly. 

“Then why did you?” 

“I had to! I—I couldn’t live there anymore.” 

“But why?” He sounded desperate, begging for you to clue him in to any reason, anything at all that would help him understand. And god, as scared as you were of changing things by telling Charles how you really felt about him, you were infinitely more scared of losing him for good if you didn’t. 

“Because I’m fucking in love with you, Charles!” You blurted, finally. “I couldn’t live with you any longer, keeping this huge secret all the time, because it truly made me feel like I was about to explode. I just couldn’t do it anymore—pretend like everything was alright when every time I looked at you, all I could think about was how I felt about you! How much I felt for you.” Your voice rose with every word, emotion lacing your tone. 

You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall no matter how much you willed them not to. “I just thought, maybe if we lived apart, if we didn’t see each other all the time, maybe those feelings would go away.” 

Charles blinked at you slowly. He scrubbed a hand over his cheek, across his mouth, letting it disappear into the neckline of his hoodie as he continued the motion near his jaw. Still, he said nothing. You weren’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad one, but still you continued. 

“So no, it wasn’t because of anything you did. Or maybe it was, for making it so fucking easy to fall in love with you. I don’t know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t say anything to me, but I’m not sorry for making the decision on my own. It was for the best.”

There it was, out there in the open at last. It felt like a proverbial weight lifted off your shoulders, but at the same time like a thousand rocks sinking to the bottom of your stomach, because he wasn’t saying anything. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how you’d fuck up the best friendship you’d ever had. 

Charles was silent for the longest time before he replied, and when he did, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it before. It felt unnerving. “You could’ve just told me.” 

“Told you?” You had to fight the urge to let out a bitter, watery laugh. “Telling your best friend you’ve fallen in love with him isn’t just something you mention at the bathroom sink one night.” 

“It is, if he feels the same way about you.” 

A coldness crept down your neck, shooting through your veins like you’d just had a bucket of ice cold water dumped over your head. 

“No you’re not—you don't...you can't.” You whispered, disbelieving.

Charles’ brows furrowed in confusion. “What, do you want me to prove it?” 

You couldn’t give him an answer even if you wanted to. You weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to say a damn word, just in case this was all a dream and you'd wake up any second, still alone, still without him there.

He must’ve taken your silence as a yes to his question, because he crossed the room in three strides, took your face in firm hands, and he kissed you. 

Despite your utter shock, you managed to kiss him back clumsily, fingers curling into his hoodie tightly. Charles kissed you like he was afraid to let you go, like you’d slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful enough.

A guiding hand curled around the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss, but only for a few seconds before he broke away, panting. His forehead stayed pressed against yours, soulful green eyes boring into your own in total seriousness.

“Do you believe me now?” 

“Maybe.” You breathed, letting your nose bump against his gently. This was not a dream. Charles was real and here and one hell of a kisser (just as you suspected).

“I am in love with you.” He murmured, stroking his thumb over your cheek fondly. “I have been for a long time. And I never thought you would feel the same way.” 

“I love you, Cha.” You were suddenly brought back to last night, when you’d uttered the same words to him. Only this time, they had a whole different meaning to them. 

This time, you knew Charles loved you in the same way you loved him.

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[lovelettersfromluna]

Not Strong Enough

Summary: Rule number 1 of being best friends with a vampire. Never let them drink your blood.

an: I HEAR YOU ALL YELLING AT ME IM SORRY!! This took entirely too long to get to you guys, but it’s here now! Better late than never right?? Is this heavily inspired by twilight? Yes. Did I use a BoyGenius song as the title? It’s lesbian smut, obviously. Is Ellie going to be a brooding depressed vampire? Oh hell yeah. I hope you all like this! I’m a slut for anything supernatural so this was obvi very fun for me to write. As always, love you all so so much! Thanks for reading 🤍

Warnings: SMUT!!, MDNI!!, scissoring (if ur mad I’m doing another scissoring fic….idk what to tell you it’s hot), messy kissing, Ellie bites reader (outside of blood sucking), mentions of marking, mentions of bruises, mentions of blood, Ellie is kind of insufferable for a small bit but I promise it gets better, please lmk if I missed anything!

Read part 1 here!!

Ellie knew it was a bad idea from the very beginning.

She knew that she was too weak for you, even outside of sucking your blood. You were too fucking good for her, too much of a dream for Ellie to go and fuck up like she did.

Truth be told, Ellie expected all of it. She expected to get utterly addicted to you, she expected the blurred lines of your relationship to become even more blurred when she began sucking you dry of your life source, she even expected herself to lose control when she was in the act, humping and grinding your soft body like a wild fucking animal as if she had no control over herself.

She expected all of it, every single aspect that came with the territory, she knew was coming.

But the hardest part of it all? Was leaving you completely.

Because she knew the moment she felt herself lose control while she was on top of you that night in your apartment, she knew she needed to leave you. She needed to abandon you and your friendship for the greater good, for your sake.

Ellie knew that she wasn’t good for you, and you weren’t good for her. But that didn’t make the pain of not seeing you any less.

She thought she’d be able to do it at first, but the texts from you only reminded her of how much she loved your company, how obsessed she was with simply being around you.

She wound frown every time her phone went off, a low groan leaving her lips when she lifted it up to look at her screen, only to see it was from you.

Ellieeeeee

Where are you?

Haven’t seen u in the longest :((

Ellie can practically hear your pout in the way you text her. She knows you too well, and she knows that you aren’t handling her sudden disappearance well.

At this point, it’s been about two months since Ellie has seen you last? Maybe three? She stopped keeping count because it was driving her insane. It wasn’t even the blood supply that she missed, Ellie would go hungry ten times over, dying from starvation if it meant she could be around you without feeling she was robbing you of your life, ruining things that you were meant to experience because she was too fucking selfish.

Ellie misses you, and it pains her that she hasn’t been able to have you in so long.

Well…not entirely at least. She knew she’d lose her mind entirely if she couldn’t at least be around you for a few moments, so her usual nighttime visits become a bit more frequent when she decides she can’t be around you anymore. She’s a lot more careful when she does it though, knowing how sensitive you were to her presence. It was almost unbelievable how easily you’d woken up to her in your room in the past. She doesn’t know how she’d explain things if you woke up now, not having seen her in so long. So she’s extra aware of how much noise she makes.

Seeing you sleep is almost enough to keep Ellie’s demons at bay, the ones that screamed for you, yearned for you to be by her side, to have your warm skin pressed against her much colder one.

As per usual, she’s scaling up the brick wall of your apartment building, making her way up to your bedroom like thief in the night. You continue to leave your window open every night, and it breaks Ellie’s heart because she knows you’re doing it for her, most likely hoping she slips into your window as she usually does.

It means Ellie needs to be even more careful than she anticipated.

She doesn’t even dare to sit on your bed, standing in the corner of your room as she watches your chest rise and fall. She doesn’t even breathe, scared that the sound of it will wake you.

And she desperately wants to reach out and let her fingers run along your soft skin, desperate for the feeling that you always brought her when you’re near. It makes her fists balk at her sides as she practically itches to feel you, fighting back any and every thought that she had to touch you, if even for a moment.

But she doesn’t. Instead, he stays with you just before the sun rises. She knows it’s risky, and she knows she shouldn’t do it in the event that you wake up and see her. Even if she’s fast enough to dart out of your room before you can even call her name or turn the lights on, you’re too smart for that. You’d know what was happening before she can even begin to gaslight you into thinking it was simply a dream.

She can’t help herself, not when it comes to you. Seeing you sleep satisfies the burning feeling in her chest, the one that yearns so desperately for you, it’s enough to make her knees weak. It’s almost like you’re capable of evoking the same feelings she had when she was a human, when she was weak and stupid and felt nervous around women. Until you showed up, Ellie hadn’t experienced those feelings in a long time, she’d almost forgotten about them.

You always remind her though.

Like when she’s about to leave you, knowing she’s cutting it too close to the time you’re going to wake up and start your day. Her footsteps are practically silence, even against the old, creaky floorboards of your apartment.

She’s almost out of your window, one leg outside as she plants her foot against the fire escape when she hears it. You began mumbling in your sleep, tossing a bit, clearly bothered by whatever dream you were having. While this should’ve been the clearest sign for Ellie to leave as quickly as possible before your eyes opened a bit to see her, she doesn’t. Instead, she stays sat on your window sill, simply watching as you turn to face her, eyes still closed as you pout in your sleep.

If Ellie had a heart that was still beating, she’s sure it would’ve stopped. Because suddenly your mumbling is just clear enough for her to hear.

“Ellie….” You sigh out softly, barely loud enough for the undead girl to hear, but she does. Regardless of the city waking up below her, or the sound of your ceiling fan creaking about, she hears it. It makes her frown deeply, swallowing back the intense whimper that threatens to escape and echo throughout your room.

She isn’t sure if she’s ever left your room so quickly, the girls eyes going wide as she made the familiar path down the side of your building to your side walk.

Even when she got home that night, the vampire practically breaking the front door down of her apartment to get in, she couldn’t get the sound of your voice uttering her name so sweetly, calling out for her even in the depths of sleep that you were in, tugged so deeply by your dreams, you were still calling out for her.

Ellie knew that night, that she had to stay away from her. For both your sake, and her own.

And she’s right, because you were suffering just as much as Ellie was.

Ellie’s presence was always scarce, and while it bothered you a bit before you learned what she was, it made sense. She was a creature of the night, something that seemingly only existed in storybooks, coming to life and living the strange lifestyle that she did.

But you knew immediately that this was different.

The morning after you saw Ellie last left a bitter taste in your mouth. As you woke up that morning, your neck sore with the bruises of Ellie’s lips on your skin, body far too drained and tired even after a night of a sleep that was just a bit too deep. It was similar to almost all the times Ellie had drank from you the night prior.

So, why did you feel so bad that morning?

You knew that you didn’t owe Ellie anything, that you were the one to suggest this in the first place, so there truly wasn’t any room for you to be upset for reasons unknown. What were you even supposed to say to her? That you had a weird feeling? One that you desperately wanted her to relieve by telling you it was all okay?

As much as you wanted to, you knew things between you and Ellie weren’t like that.

You were her friend. You were just her friend, and as much as you wanted more, you knew deep down that if Ellie truly wanted you that way, she would’ve made you she’s a long time ago.

And maybe that’s what bothers you the most when this little dry spell occurs, because the sudden lack of her presence leaves you entirely too much time to dwell on things, wondering what it was that you did wrong, what you could have possibly said to create this sudden rift between the two of you.

Ellie had always been flirtatious, flashing that pretty smile in your direction that made you weak in the knees, calling you sweet names that made your heart beat faster. She was practically dangling it all right in front of your face, the frequent touches, the late night visits at the foot of your bed, all this time when you have her the benefit of the doubt, chalking it all up to her simply wanting to see you and nothing more than that, suddenly made no sense to you.

With time came confusion, and with confusion came anger, desperate to understand why she left you, what you had done to possibly make her so scarce so suddenly. And once the third month had hit without seeing Ellie, you were furious, feeling as though you had one choice and one choice only.

To find Ellie, and get the answers from her yourself.

You don’t go to Ellie’s apartment, not usually at least.

Ellie always told you she liked hanging out at your place, going on and on about how warm and cozy it was being there. She’d never admit it to you because she didn’t want you to think she was a freak, but being in a place that smelled so heavily like you made her brain go absolutely insane.

You’ve been there maybe a handful of times, sometimes heading to her place after a night out, or even stopping by whenever you were in the neighborhood. Bottom line was, your apartment was the designated hang out spot for you and Ellie.

Regardless though, you remember how to get there like it’s written on the back of your hand. You thought about Ellie’s apartment a lot, loving how much the space reflected her. You always wished you had the chance to stay there more often.

You can’t think about that though, not now. Not when you’re storming down the expensive halls of her complex down to her door, and landing a heavy fist on the door. All you can truly care about now, is seeing Ellie and demanding an explanation for her sudden disappearance.

And it’s all so unlike you, so out of your character. If it was anyone else, you’d let it go, giving yourself a few days to sulk before forgetting about it all together and simply moving on. Maybe it’s because it’s Ellie, and maybe it’s because you feel a tad bit used after being her personal buffet for the last few times you’d been around her, just for her to up and leave.

It’s most definitely that. You just don’t want to admit it in fears of sounding selfish.

You land another firm knock on her door when she doesn’t answer in time, feeling yourself grow angrier as the moments pass.

Soon, she’s finally opening the door. The image of her nearly takes your breath away.

Because Ellie always looks beautiful, perhaps it’s the fact that you haven’t seen her in some time, but she looks fucking ethereal standing before you. So tall, so confident, her eyes so fucking dark, piercing through your very soul as she stares down at you. Her lips look like rubies compared to her cold, pale skin, so plump and kissable.

All you can think about is the way they felt pressed against your throat, and it makes you lift your hand to press against the two small circular scars on your neck.

Ellie frowns deeply as she eyes you, eyebrows furrowed and expression virtually unreadable.

“What are you doing here” she mumbles out, shifting on her feet awkwardly. Her question alone sets the fire off in your chest again, making you seethe as you take a deep inhale before responding.

“Are you kidding me Ellie?” You practically spit out, staring up at the girl in disbelief.

She lets out a soft sigh, her tattooed hand coming up to rub her face roughly before it moves up to rub through her hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” she manages before she tries shutting her door in your face. “You can’t be here” she mumbles out softly, the girl fully expecting to be able to shut the door.

You however, have other plans.

You’re quick to press your hand against the door, stopping her from closing it before you practically force yourself between it. Ellie’s eyes widen a bit at this, not used to seeing you so forward.

Soon, you’re pushing yourself into her apartment, your palm pressing against your forehead as you began pacing back and forth Ellie’s lavish apartment.

“I don’t…I don’t understand you Ellie. Is it something I said? Did I do something? If so please enlighten me I beg you” you blurt out, all of the words fumbling out of your mouth in one breath.

Ellie frowns deeply as she watches you pace back and forth her apartment, her eyebrows furrowed. She can truly see the damaged shes caused when she sees you like this, because it was much easier to watch you when you slept, so peaceful and unaware of the troubles that came with her absence. She knew you were going to blame yourself, and as much as she knew she couldn’t allow you to do that to yourself, she knew staying away was even more important.

Seeing you like this was possibly the hardest thing Ellie had to ever endure.

You don’t stop there, taking advantage of the lack of a response from Ellie to continue ranting.

“Is it because of the blood thing? If so I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry for simply caring enough to make sure you didn’t die from starvation or whatever it is that happens to you when you don’t eat. I’m sorry for making sure that you were okay, if that was so wrong please tell me…” your words trail off as you let out an exasperated sigh, your feelings and emotions becoming far too much as you practically sob out to her.

But then you’re pausing, your chest rising and falling quickly as you struggle to catch your breath. Ellie isn’t entirely sure why you’ve suddenly stopped, your back towards her as you stand there, doing god knows what.

When you finally turn around, your eyes are red and your cheeks are wet with tears.

“Were you just….using me? As your personal fucking blood bag?” Your words are shaky as you hold back another sob, your fists balled down at your sides.

Ellie freezes when you say this, because this is exactly what she was fucking afraid of.

It was a common theme throughout…her people. Vampires were notoriously alluring, seducing countless innocent and clueless victims into being their personal meal. The humans were almost always oblivious to what was being done to them, vampires often times using this to their advantage to keep them under their spell for as long as possible. It would most commonly been done in a way that made the humans believe the vampires loved them, dangling them by a thread as they promised them a life of eternity together, to live in immortality, side by side until the end of times. It almost never ended that way though, the vampires would suck and suck and suck until one day they went a bit too far, and their obedient human keeled over and died.

Ellie never wanted things to be that way with you.

She never even wanted you to think it was that way. She wanted you to understand that this was entirely up to you, and it could stop whenever you wanted it to. It’s why she constantly voiced to you that this was still a factor right before she fed off of you. Ellie would rather die than use you for a source of food, because truthfully you were far too good for that, too fucking pure to be used as something as low as a food source.

So when the words leave your lips, Ellie sees red.

Shes in front of you in less than a second, towering over you and staring down into your tear soaked eyes. Her nostrils are flared as she tries to hold back from tearing down her entire apartment complex around the both of you.

“You can’t possibly be stupid enough to think I’d ever use you for something so low..” her voice is low, and there’s a gravel in it that makes your core tighten and your chest bloom with something you can’t quite place, a feeling that can only be shelved in your mind right next to where Ellie takes place.

You don’t hack one, hot tears continuing to spill from your eyes as you stare at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“It makes sense….get your fix and then leave me like I’m nothing…this was probably your plan all along” you grit out.

Ellie licks her lips, knowing that you’re hurting just as much as she is, and your words are simply coming from a place of confusion, desperate to understand why she did what she did to you, why she left without a trace.

She leans in, her face a mere inches from yours. You can smell her minty breath wafting onto your face, and it’s bizarre because even that has a slight chill to it. It makes your cheeks cold, and it makes you want to reach out and warm her up.

“I would rather die a million deaths before using you for that…you and I both know this” she seethes out.

And it makes you whimper, because Ellie’s always been so fucking intense, so poetic. It makes your insides flip upside down, and your eyebrows knit together as you struggle to hold back a whimper.

Your features soften as you continue to cry in front of her. “Then why did you leave me…” you whisper out to the girl.

It breaks her heart how desperate you are for this. Not even for her, but simply for answers. All you want is to understand why she left, what you did to make her abruptly disappear without a single word.

Ellie’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, her pink tongue darting out to lick her plush lips before she finally speaks.

“I’ve never…been so weak for someone…in my entire life” she breaths out.

It surely isn’t what you’re expecting her to say. You think she’s going to say she’s gotten enough of you, or she just couldn’t handle having someone like you around. Hell, you were even beginning to think she was trying to cover up all her roots here and start somewhere else.

“I always have been…from the moment I fucking laid eyes on you, I knew you weren’t good for me…you’re too good for me” she continues, her eyes fluttering open as she finally stares down into yours. You can finally look into yours as you blink away the tears that are pooling in your eyes and blurring your vision, and it allows you to see the pain in her eyes, just how much she’d been struggling with all of this.

“It isn’t even your blood…it made it worse, yes…but just being around you is like…it’s like a fucking drug to me. You give me this feeling that I can’t…I can’t even begin to describe how fucking euphoric you make me feel” each of her words sounds like a plea, a plea for you to let her go, to unhand her from the death grip you have on her.

“And suddenly I’m always in your apartment, and you’re offering yourself to me and it’s like a dream come true and I feel like a fucking monster when I’m on top of you, sucking you dry of your fucking blood” it’s her turn to start pacing, running her hands through her hair as she settles one of her hands on her hip, she moves slower than you were, simply voicing the struggles she’s seemed to have with you from the moment you met.

She finally turns towards you, and she’s slowing make her way to where you’ve been standing this entire time. When she’s right back where she was, stood right in front of you, she takes your hand into hers ever so gently. It’s enough to make you flinch, how cold she is in contrast to your hot skin. She sighs, bringing your hand up to cradle her cheek, and her eyes flutter shut, nearly rolling back as she presses a soft kiss to your palm.

“I’m not strong enough for you…I don’t think I ever will be” she finally admits, and it’s like she’s not only admitting it to you, but to herself as well.

You hold back a whine as she kisses your palm, her lips so soft, so gentle with you.

“Then…then don’t be…why can’t you just let things happen” you sigh out as you stare up at her, in awe as the girl leaned into your touch as if it were her life line.

You aren’t even entirely sure what you’re asking her for, what this so called ‘thing’ is that she won’t let happen. Is it the feeding you’re alluding to? An act of true platonic kindness? Or are you asking for more, are you begging for something that Ellie has deprived you both of for the sake of the greater good?

Both you and Ellie have these same questions running through your minds.

She chuckles dryly against your skin, shaking her head as her hand gives your wrists a gentle squeeze.

“You aren’t even sure what it is you’re asking for…not from someone like me” she admits, eyes opening as she finally looks down at you again.

“I can’t…give you the things you deserve. I’m not capable of being the perfect person for you, not when I am what I am” her words are like venom on her tongue, the girl utterly disgusted with the monster that she became against her own will, the hell that she was forced to live over and over again with no foreseeable end.

“The only thing I can do, is take from you…I take and take and take….” Her words trail off, a soft frown on her lips before she finally looks at you once again.

“Until I’ve taken everything that you have…and there is no more of you to offer” she whispers out, as if the mere thought of a world without you pains her so much to say, she barely wants to say it.

You lick your lips, your eyes searching hers before you quickly shake your head.

“Do you want me? The same way that I want you?” You question carefully, fearful of what it is that she might say, worried that you’d been reading things entirely wrong, even after Ellie basically confessed how utterly obsessed she is with you.

She smirks softly, humming lowly as she gently brings your hand down to her lips, pressing another gentle kiss to it.

“It’s like I’ve waited my entire life for you, baby….saying that I want you would be an understatement” she chuckles out softly.

And you aren’t entirely sure how it even gets to this point, because you marched over to Ellie’s apartment with a purpose, that purpose being to yell at her and get the answers you deserved. But suddenly you’re standing in front of her, and your heart is exploding with so many different emotions and feelings, all of them for Ellie, and she’s just confessed to you that she wants you like you want her.

And you have no choice, but to kiss her.

It catches Ellie off guard, a soft whine leaving her lips as accepts your lips with gratitude, her arms moving down to drape along your waist as she pulls you closer.

It’s everything she’s ever dreamt it would be. Your lips soft and sweet against her own, your skin so warm and inviting, making her drink you up, fueling her with the warmth she’s lacked since the day she died. But despite how good it feels, she knows this is wrong, and it goes against everything she said she’d do for your sake.

Ellie breaks way first, watching as you struggle to catch your breath from the intense kiss. She’s quick to stop you from leaning in again, her hand cupping your face as she stares into your eyes.

“Angel…we can’t…I told you, I’m no good for you” she sighs out, the words paining her to even say.

You give her a soft pout, your arms wrapping around her shoulders loosely as you press your warm body against hers.

“I trust you Ellie….I know that you’d never hurt me” you sigh out softly as you stare into her eyes, your hand coming up to tuck a strand of her soft hair behind her ear.

“We don’t have to do the blood thing…but I just…can’t we just give us a try?” Your eyes are wide as you speak, eager to feel Ellie’s lips against yours again, even if for a moment. You don’t even take into consideration that she could say no, that she could turn you around and throw you out of her apartment without another word, doubling down on what she said she’d do with you.

But as Ellie said before, she’s just too fucking weak for you.

And hearing you ask for it, ask for her, it has her stomach in knots, and she feels like no matter what it is you ask her, she couldn’t possibly say no to you.

“What are you doing to me…” she sighs softly before she leans in to kiss you again, reciprocating the passion and heat that you gave her mere moments ago. You whine against her, your hands sliding back to tug at her hair, keeping her close as your lips moves against hers, your warm tongue sliding against hers.

“Missed you so much…” you sigh against her, and it makes Ellie groan softly as she nods, hands sliding down to grip your waist as she walks you back towards her bedroom, lips never leaving yours.

“Missed you more than anything, angel” she mumbles against your lips as she presses her palm against her bedroom door behind you, pushing it open and leading you further inside.

Ellie’s bedroom smells like her. It’s dark, and cold but oh so comforting. You practically sigh against her lips when you feel her laying your body down against her black silk sheets, the expensive material like butter on your skin. It makes your senses go in overdrive, Ellie’s hands caressing your skin, roaming around your body as her tongue rubs against yours in a dirty, passionate kiss.

“Don’t know how long I’ve waited to have you like this…” she sighs softly, her lips breaking away from yours to kiss along your jaw, down to your throat. You don’t miss the way Ellie kisses the now faded marks of her teeth on your neck, licking the skin softly before she sucks into it, sure to leave dark marks in the morning.

“Missed marking you up baby….” She hums against you, drinking in the sweet moans that leave your mouth, the sound alone like music to her ears.

Your mind is fuzzy, almost blank besides the thoughts of Ellie that stood in the forefront of your brain. It was like she was filling you up entirely, making you almost overwhelmed with her. Her scent, her cold skin, her soft hands, all of it was almost too much, a combination of sensory overload that kissed your skin so deliciously.

Soon she’s kissing down your body, practically worshiping her as her lips work on your soft skin. Her hands are pushing up your t-shirt, kissing your stomach and your ribcage until she’s tugging you up a bit to skillfully slip your shirt over your head. You’re bare before her, her lips matching onto your pebbled nipples as her tattooed hands work on your soft shorts, tugging them down your legs.

You don’t miss the way her tongue swirls around your nipple before letting go with a pop, lips moving up to nip at your collar bone with her flat teeth. Hard enough to leave a mark, but gentle enough to not break skin.

You giggle softly, bending your legs back to help as she tugs your shorts and panties off. She’s slotting herself between your legs, humming softly as she gives you a smirk.

“Something funny baby?” She questions before leaning in to press another kiss to the corner of your lips. You nod, a dreamy smile on your lips as you bring your hand down to tug at the hem of Ellie’s t-shirt.

“Seems like old habits never die, that’s all….need this off” you huff out softly, fingers fumbling between the hem of her t shirt and the waistband of her sweats.

Ellie chuckles at how eager you are before she nods, pulling back to tug her shirt off before she rolls over a bit to pull off her sweats and underwear as well before she makes her way back between your legs, towering over you as she crawls into you like a predator would its prey.

And it leaves your pussy soaking wet, because it’s better than you could’ve ever imagined. Ellie’s tits are pebbled similarly to yours, tattoos littering her pretty skin, muscles so beautiful they could make your mouth fucking water.

You’d always seen Ellie for the beauty she possessed…but this? This was so much more different.

It made your head fucking spin.

You whined softly as you practically tug her into her by her shoulders, moaning softly at the feeling of her boobs squishing against yours as your mouth attacks her in a needy kiss.

“Want you…” you sigh softly against her as your hand slides down between the both of you, cupping her pussy. You feel Ellie suck in a sharp breath at the feeling of your warm fingers against her sopping wet core, and she gives you an eager nod before rolling over, her strong hands gripping your thighs and taking you with her as she forces you to straddle her.

Being on top of Ellie is just as good as being under her, almost better in all honesty. The lighting in her bedroom is dim, but you can just make out her features with the moonlight that spills in through her big windows, and the moody lights she has set up along her walls. You don’t even realize it because you’re too busy gawking at her, but she lifts her leg up a bit and easily slots you down so that your pussy is right against hers, the feeling making you moan softly.

“You’re so pretty Ellie…” you practically sigh out. It makes Ellie moan softly, and she swears the sound of you calling her pretty is enough to bring her back to life, reversing the effects of her undead state.

“Fuck…can’t say those things to me baby…you’re gonna…Jesus..ruin me” she struggles to get out as she grips your hips, forcing you to roll your hips so that your clit and her clit bumps against each other.

Your eyes flutter shut when you feel it. It’s so fucking wet, and soft, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Sure you’d done it with other girls before, but this just feels…it almost feels like….

“Like you were fucking made for me princess” Ellie grits out, her teeth caging her words in as she fucks you down onto her pussy, practically using you for both hers and your pleasure.

You’re too far gone to pick up on it, too indulged in the feeling of Ellie’s strong hands gripping your thighs so deliciously, sure to leave marks in their shape when you both wake up in the morning.

Your back is arching almost painfully, your hand gripping her thigh as you find the rhythm Ellie has set for you, finding the perfect spot and keeping it there as you drive both you and her to your orgasms.

“I’m…Ellie you feel so good…you’re gonna make me cum” you squeak out, eyebrows furrowed as you finally look down at the girl beneath you, only to find that she’s just as much of a mess as you are. Her hair is messy and her lips look so pouty and kissable. It’s hard to make out, but her fanged teeth are pressing into her lips, and you’re sure it’s the sexiest thing you’ve seen in your entire life.

She gives you an encouraging nod, one of her hands coming to your ass and kneading it harshly before giving it a firm spank, the sinful noise echoing off the walls of her pristine bedroom.

“I know baby…I know…come on, want you to cum with me…that’s it…that’s my good girl” her praises make your chest burn, and it leaves knots in your stomach. It only drives you further, your hips moving faster as they roll against Ellie’s, desperately chasing both hers and your orgasm.

“Ellie…Ellie I’m…I’m gonna-“ you cry out, back arching as you grip her thighs quickly, feeling your own shake as your orgasm begins washing over you.

Ellie catches it right before it happens, the girl quickly sitting up and wrapping her arms around your body, pressing your chest against hers as she pulls you down to kiss her passionately, her own orgasm washing over her like a fucking train.

Your bodies are so in tune, so in sync that your moans almost mix to create a symphony that can only be described as love, total and unconditional love as her arms keep you close, as if stopping you from running away from her, from the feeling she gives you. Her lips are working against yours as you breath hard, struggling to catch your breath in the sloppy kiss.

You’re a whining mess, your poor pussy far too sensitive to deal with the amount of pleasure that Ellie brought to you, all of it washing over you like an intense sea of euphoria, nearly drowning you as you held onto the girl with weak hands.

She knows you’re weak, because she’s pulling you down to rest your warm body against her cool sheets, all while keeping her cool body pressed against yours to bring you back down to earth with her.

“That’s it baby…I know….did so good for me…” she sighs softly as she leaves gentle kisses against your cheeks and eyes, watching as the aftermath of your orgasm slowly pulls you to the depths of sleep, all of it too much on your body.

“My beautiful girl…my girl…my girl…” she hums out, almost like a song as she watches you cling to her in your sleep, soft hums and huffs leaving your lips, all of which makes Ellie smile adoringly at you as she holds you while you sleep.

And even while you’re settling into one of the deepest sleeps you’ve ever experienced, you don’t miss the soft kisses against your lips and cheeks, all paired with the constant, non stop praises from Ellie.

You especially don’t miss the way she leans in settles against the pillow next to you, mumbling the softest, sweetest words to you as her hands caressing your naked body.

“I love you, pretty girl..”

[soleilapproves]

Imagine celebrity!reader and actor!Nanami telling the world about their relationship (feat. Boxer!Sukuna cause why not)

Masterlist

-•-

Consider this related to the first actor!Nanami head cannons I wrote about.

You and Nanami have been denying the relationship rumors for the longest time now. Every time a reporter or a fan would ask you about your relationship status, you’d be quick to change the topic. Which is why everyone stopped being suspicious after a while. “Y/N and Nanami Kento spotted at Nobu” a headline would read, but no one would bat an eye. At this point, your fans weren’t even surprised to see Nanami at most of your shows. They just took pictures of him and chalked it up to friendly support. Tabloids labeled you two as the most confusing friends in the entertainment industry as most tv shows and music videos required you both to be act as a couple.

Little did everyone know, you and Nanami had been dating all along. You realized that not having your relationship out in the open but still hanging out as friends was much more bearable because there weren’t a lot of eyes on you. It was Nanami’s idea and you simply ran along with it because you wanted him to be comfortable. You knew it didn’t matter as long as those who were close to you both knew you were together.

However, a few months into the relationship, Nanami started having this strange feeling in his chest whenever you had to make public appearances alone. Especially when you went to a boxing match as a promotion strategy for your new song. Everyone knew that The Demon aka Sukuna Ryomen was the biggest flirt outside the ring. Nanami was worried that Sukuna would be seen hitting on you and the press would run wild with that story.

Unfortunately, Sukuna did hit on you. But on the bright side, no one saw it happen! After you returned home from the event, Nanami sat you down and finally said what was on his mind. He wanted to go public. You couldn’t be more elated! You called your manager up and they had a whole strategic plan but you said that you wanted to be as spontaneous as possible.

Which is why, the two of you were now in a dressing room for a huge magazine cover shoot. You both (well, mainly you) had decided to go public in style! The photographer said that concept was about pillow talk. Think soft fabrics, loose clothing, unmade bed, messy hair, and natural makeup.

Everything felt very organic. You wore just a large t-shirt with messy hair while Nanami was going to be shirtless with sweatpants. The two of you posed for individual pictures first. You took a picture laying down, stretching, and then reaching towards the camera like you were reaching for your boyfriend’s face.

Nanami’s pictures had a more sensual vibe compared to yours. His pictures had him stare into the camera while leaning against a set window, lean back against the headboard with his arms crossed (making his pecs look absolutely stunning), and reading a book with one arm behind his head.

The pictures you two took together were quite romantic. The cover picture you both picked had his arm wrapped around you from behind while you sat in his lap, leaning back into his shoulder with a lazy smile. He looked stoic as usual (his manager told him not to go too crazy as his image was all about being strong and silent).

The photos came out and the world went CRAZY. You both got many compliments for your chemistry together and looking absolutely perfect even when you’re all messy. Fans clamored saying that they knew you both were together the entire time but were too afraid to reveal it. Not much changed but you both got a lot of positive attention by revealing your relationship. Obviously there were some negative aspects like tabloids talking about your supposed pregnancy or infidelity. But the two of you gracefully overcame them.

Cameramen at your concerts would purposefully point the camera at Nanami when you were doing a particularly sensual number. Everyone would cheer as soon as his flushed face would be displayed on the huge screens. Interviewers would quiz him on the lyrics of your songs (and he would always get them right). His fans began listening to your music and supporting you too.

In your case, many directors started considering you for more serious roles (perks of relationship nepotism). You would always be Nanami’s date at his premiers and you would be the first person he would thank in his award speeches.

And after a few years, when you guys get engaged, Architectural Digest would do a special segment where you both show off your vacation home in Kuantan, Malaysia.

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations 🪐🪐🪐

Credit goes to @astroismypassion

🪐When you have Pluto in the 7th house in your Solar Return chart that year you might feel tempted to sabotage your personal, one on one relationships, romantic partnerships, friendships and committed partnerships in order to form new ones. You will want to destroy them just so you can build new ones.

🪐If you have Pluto in the 3rd house in Synastry chart you two will be very competitive with each other, especially in running, cycling etc.

🪐People with Pisces Moon/Pisces IC or Pisces over the 4th house tend to find their one true love after they retire. Usually these people spend a lifetime finding a partner that doesn't make them feel lonely.

🪐With Pluto in the 7th house in the Solar Return chart you might enter a legal contract that year that could bring you debt the years following, so stay mindful with what you are signing when you have Solar Return Pluto in the 7th house.

🪐Mercury in the 5th house natives are extra competitive when playing board games. They desire to win at all costs.

🪐I noticed that whenever you connect with the Sun sign person of your Moon sign, for example you have Aries Moon in the 4th house and you connect with Aries Sun or Cancer Sun, you feel like you have hard time connecting with them through your own CURRENT interests. Because the Moon is so connected with the past, your childhood, upbringing and your growing up. With them you are always pulled in the past and nostalgia. You spend a lot of time talking about hobbies, interests that you've done in the PAST, but not so much actively, in the present moment. It's like they remind you only of the activities, interests, hobbies and passions that you had in childhood or while growing up, but it's much harder to sync in with them through your active, current interests that you have in your adult life.

🪐Mars in the 9th house always need to listen to music while they are doing an activity or while they are active, walking around the city, on their way to somewhere, while in transportation or during sports.

🪐Moving on to celebrity world, I find interesting how rappers Cardi B and Offset, who are married released song Jealousy since both have Scorpio Venus in their Natal charts. They are quite literally making money (Venus) off jealousy (Scorpio theme).

🪐The 2nd house shows on who you are spending your money on. So when someone puts their personal planets into your 2nd house, you spend a lot of money of them. And vice versa, when someone has your sign over their 2nd house, they might spend a lot of money on you. But with so not that often discussed, is that it goes the same for your Part of Fortune sign. If you have Sagittarius Part of Fortune, a Sagittarius Sun might give you money or spend a lot on you, buy you gifts. Since Part of Fortune represents also material wealth.

🪐People with Libra Midheaven are so fascinating to me. The native with Libra MC is always known for their partnership/marriage, they are known as "this person's partner/wife/husband". BUT the Libra MC native is always EVEN MORE well known or has more attention, recognized by the public than their partner/spouse. For example celebrities Kim Kardashian, who for the longest was associated with Kanye West and as "Kanye's wife", her popularity outgrew her husband. The same in case of Cardi B (Libra MC) and his husband Offset. Similary, Kylie Jenner (Libra MC) who dated Travis Scott, now supposedly Timothee Chalamet, she will always be known for dating these people, but will be bigger than them. To conclude Libra MC native will be always KNOWN by association, because of their PARTNER or who they team up with, but Libra MC native will despite that always be BIGGER, have even more attention, success than their partner in some sense.

🪐Capricorn Lilith is often faced with rumours and gossip about them in the workplace and usually they are started by a boss and distributed by co-workers.

🪐I noticed two signs repeated in charts that often point to extreme sensitivity. It's Pisces and Aries. Often times I noticed in individual charts of people who are in a partnership, most often one partner had Pisces Moon or Rising, Mars in their Natal chart and the other person had Aries Moon, Aries Mars or Sun in their Natal chart. So a Pisces Moon in a man's chart points to a partner that is very sensitive. And if the woman has Aries Mars, again it points to a partner with extreme sensitivities.

🪐Mars in the 9th house native is VERY DECISIVE. They often had a highly opinionated father with very strong beliefs, opinions. So early on they were taught by the father that is not okay for them to be indecisive or not have an opinion on something. But what is interesting that the Mars in the 9th house individual is very indecisive throughout childhood, but grows up very decisive and opinionated later in adulthood.

🪐Sometimes with Lilith in the 9th house, you might not feel fully accepted by in-laws, so your partner's parents. Could encounter challenges here with them. Another thing I noticed here could also be either your partner's parents never take side with you. They always defend your partner, their child and not side with you, even when you're right. Or they paint YOU the bad guy and not their child, so your partner. Be mindful if you share any partnership troubles with your partner's parents since they might not grasp your perspective well.

🪐If you have Composite Capricorn Ascendant, connection that the two of you share, will receive A LOT of attention from the public. People will be highly curious about it and very focused on your connection. You will draw quite a lot of attention and people around you will be invested in your partnership.

🪐Scorpio Moon and Cancer over the 8th house might consider intimacy that you share your phone/social media password with them.

🪐 Pisces over the 4th house often points to the fact that someone else is paying your rent.

🪐 If you have Saturn in the 4th house, Capricorn over the 4th house your parents might pay your rent or buy you an apartment, a home.

Credit goes to @astroismypassion

[presleyluvschris]

Join The Dream

alive!luke patterson x girlbestfriend!reader

a/n: not requested, back after 4 months!

desc luke didnt know you could sing after years of being your best friend

wc - 1.8k

warnings slight cursing, fluff, grammar, not proof read

the door krept open as you got home from school, tossing your grey messy laced converse off of your ankles and sludging your backpack off one of your shoulders and onto the floor.

it was 4:09 pm, you had nothing to do besides an english paper. but that could be done later.

you walk across the kitchen to sit on top of the counter, your nike women's dry-fit socks dangling as you thought about something, anything to do.

reggie and alex were out making flyers for their upcoming band gig on friday, while your best friend luke was probably somewhere in your guest house messing with your dads old music equipment and speakers you had gotten out of some dusty boxes for him a few weeks ago.

what was there to do?

you make a raspberry with your lips.

laundry...done. homework..ish, done. rooms clean...dad didn't get home until 10...

you stare at your mom's piano in the crevice of a large indent in a wall as you hear the air conditioner buzz softly.

the house was dead silent. no one was home.

for some reason, your hands begin to shake and your throat closes up staring at the white keys and grand black figure just sitting feet away, almost feeling like an old friend waiting for you to come back to it again.

after years.

this was the longest you had ever beared to look at it before.

the blank truth was you had completely disregarded the thought of ever playing any musical instrument ever again after your mom had died of cancer four years ago.

especially the piano. especially singing.

it was all the things you and your mom had cherished with each other. everytime you tried to even look at it. all that could replay in the back of your mind was your five-year-old self playing and singing along to "i love you baby", with your mother and you giggling with her.

what was so wrong about it? that you couldn't have that same feeling anymore? you didn't know.

it just hurt. all of it did.

over the years you had become slightly jealous of luke, reggie, and alex for being able to enjoy music like it was a second nature. maybe thats because it used to be yours, too, and your love for music had been taken away. and you felt like you could never get it back.

luke never knew about your passion for music. neither did alex, or reggie. sure, luke had watched you play with your mom as a kid but he never knew that you had the same thriving passion of music that made you feel alive like he did also.

everytime he tried to get you to sing along to one of the songs he had wrote with reggie you just shrugged it off, letting them sing.

because when your mom died, music died too.

in fact, luke had never heard you sing before. not even in the car, the shower, nothing.

but would this be what your mother had wanted? never even singing on the radio just because of memories?

if you were honest, you hadn't been the same person when you gave up music. If you were even more honest, you felt a hole without it.

you decided to get off the counter and slowly creep over to just....look.

not play, of course, no.

just...looking.

just...sitting down at your mom's favorite stool..

just..looking at the keys..

just..feeling them..

breathing...

you flinch when you accidentally hit a note with your finger.

your heart immediately starts pumping and you feel your stomach sink.

technically, you did just...play.

so, technically, accidentally, you could just play another...

on purpose, this time, you press a note, taking in the sound of a piano again like it was something completely new.

again, maybe? just once.

you start to play a few chords, trying to dig back in your brain four years.

you remember of a song called "forever", written by you. when you were 14. a month before your mom passed.

after playing the chords a few times, it comes flooding back to you like a sudden tidal wave.

you start playing them in order, now, and start singing your lyrics.

tears fall down your cheeks and onto the keys as you play the whole song through, singing the chorus, the verse..

you lean back slightly, holding your hands to your chest with a sniffle.

you wipe your eyes, but then jump at the sudden touch of a hand on your shoulder.

you whip your head around, quickly backing away from the stool.

"what the hell!" you gasp, but then realize who it was.

it was luke standing in front of you, now. his expression completely shocked.

it was silent, the only sounds was you trying to catch your breath.

his mouth was practically on the floor.

"y/n l/n."

you swallow, "yeah."

"what the fu-"

you cut him off, and play dumb, "what? i was just-"

you turn your head slightly to look at the piano behind you and then back to him.

"i was just like, messing around, i dunno, it was like- something i came up with..like..uhm..."

"i-i have so many questions." he scoffs, "first, okay? why in the honey bunches of fuck did you never tell me you could...you could..sing like that?"

you take a breath to answer, but he keeps going.

"two." he puts his hands to the back of his head, "since when could you play the piano? what song was that? was it yours? your moms? is this why you've never sang before? why-"

"luke, it-its complicated. i-" you take a breath out and shake your head, "i wrote it when i was 14. secretly. kind of before my mom died."

"why didn't you tell me you could write music?" he almost sounds offended.

"i dont know-- at the time you hadn't even started your band with reggie and alex yet, and that was like..your thing, and i just couldn't handle doing music again!" tears filled the bottom of your eyes as you tried to explain.

he steps towards you, wrapping his strong arms around you, caressing the back of your head as he holds it so his chest, stroking it with his thumb gently.

"shhh, sh. you don't have to explain anymore." his voice is gentle and warm. "i get it. but, music isn't something i own, okay? i wish you would have told me earlier, and i dont know how i didnt notice this before."

a sob accidentally escapes into his chest, and luke feels his heart slowly sink into the floor. he was a tough guy, but he would always let his guard down for you.

he rubs your back in comforting circles, "its okay, yeah? this is a good thing. its a great thing."

he tucks your hair behind your ear, looking down at you as you look up at him with swollen eyes and a slightly runny nose, luke speaking to you in a low and comforting voice. "you are so beyond talented. You know what im thinking?"

you shake your head softly, with a small sniffle.

"you need to be our singer for the band." he looks at you and titls his head like he already knows what you're going to say. "n' before you say no, think about it. you could do it in honor of your mom? y/n, look at you. you have crazy chemistry with a song you haven't even tried playing in years. you could play your keyboard? its waiting for you in the guest house. It would be practically wasting this amazing gift you have. and i cant let you do that. you know it, too."

"luke-" you almost whimper from the thought of playing music...all of the time. not just when you had sudden courage, like..all the time.

"please." he begs, "you dont have to decide or anything right now...just..think about it?" he looks down at you with those same eyes. "for me?" he bites his lower lip with a small smile.

"fine." you barely say. he almost jumps from excitement and hisses in victory before putting his hands on your shoulders and looks at you in the eyes. "you wont regret it."

"luke, what if-" you stop. "what if i fail? like, im not as good as i used to be? i havent even tried writing songs again-"

"from what i heard today? the like, one minute of you just...singing, and playing, was-- like, crazy good and thats more than what regs and alex and i could ever even dream of." he smiles, his dimples peaking out like a deer in headlights, "it would be totally awesome if you could join our band. Like an honor."

as you look at him speak you bite your lips nervously, and let out a shaky "okay."

he towers over you, taking a step closer and looking in both of your eyes, you could feel his warm breath dripping down your neck.

there was a silence as you look into both of his eyes back, smiling back slightly

"there's that smile."

he leans in slightly, you breathing out, and then looking down as your tone becomes quieter.

"we shouldn't do this." you whisper.

he makes you look at him by putting his finger under your chin.

"we definitely shouldn't do this." he breathes, trying not to smile.

"definitely." you say, him matching your expression.

"definitely." his breath catches in the air.

your lips meet his as he gently backs you into a wall, picking your legs up and holding them with his palms up like a feather.

you feel his warm lips lock against yours over and over.

"y/n," he takes a breath out, finally pulling away making a small click sound from your lips seperating.

"yeah?" you gasp for air.

"i love you." he chokes on his words, "i know its soon. i know. you dont have to say it back." he swallows. "i just thought you should know. n' like - its totally cool if-"

"i love you too, luke."

his eyes meet yours again, this time his eyebrows slightly furrowed, "for real?" a smile quickly creeps up on his face.

you gently nod your head as he kisses your lips again once more.

"i-i dont know its like- when i saw you playing, and- it was just-" he pauses, laughing and shaking his head.

"you're so talented. so real. like, down to it, real."

he looks at you with his soft eyes, kissing your forehead.

"your hole's filled now, y/n."

your eyes widen in surpise, "how did you--"

he rolls his eyes and tuts, "cm'on, seriously? i know you better than you know you."

a little smile appears on your face. it really was him all along. he knew after you played again you got the spark in your eyes back that you had when you met him and you were now the same girl he fell in love with all over again since he was ten.

he runs his thumb over your jaw. "that spark, right here?" he puts his hand off your chin and presses a fist gently to your rib. "right there."

"you're back."

you giggle softly, "im back."

divider creds to @benkeibear my nav ★

[withwritersblock]

I Was In Love

~I Was In Love by Born Without Bones~

Author's Note: I think this may actually be my favorite song and one shot I've done so far :) oh also italics as always are flashbacks Summary: Luke and Y/N have a complicated history: Quinn is stuck in the middle of it Warnings: implied smut, swearing, some other things I probably should add but I'm not sure Word Count: 5,485 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

He was only supposed to walk her back to her dorm building, but then it started raining. There was no way she was going to let him walk back to his dorm building with the pouring rain. So he stepped inside, it was innocent until it wasn’t. 

She wasn’t sure how it happened but his lips were sucking the skin right above her collarbone as his hands were massaging her breast through the lace of her bra. She panted hard as she pulled her fingers through the thickness of his curls. 

He lifted his head and looked down towards her, a smile on his lips as he kissed her urgently. “Is this okay?” he asked as he looked deeply into her eyes.

“Very,” she muttered before she sealed her lips over his once more. She tugged at the hem of his black button up. He stood up as he began unbuttoning it, a wide toothy grin on his lips as he looked over her gorgeous frame. She bit her lip excitedly as he leaned towards her again, the shirt completely unbuttoned, his muscles in full view. He kissed her lips briefly before he flung the shirt away from his body.

Her hands wrapped around the base of his neck, running her fingers through his curls as he kept one hand beside her head as he was holding himself up and his other hand was gripping her hip.  He slowly pulled his lips from hers, meeting her gaze for a brief second as he began to trail wet kisses from her jawline and lower and lower on her body. He wanted to taste every part of her and she wanted to feel his tongue on every single part of her body. 

The rest of the night went by in a blurr. She never thought that her longest friend, her best friend, would be in her bed doing things she could only allow her mind to go. But he did and it was the best sex she ever had.

She woke up to see him already awake and staring towards the ceiling. She smiled softly as she looked towards him, but the frown on his lips slipped the smile off of hers instantly.

“Are you okay?” she asked as she rubbed her hand across her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he stood up searching the room for his shirt and pants that he came into her room wearing. His boxers the only thing covering his frame, “We were drunk, we shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry,” 

“Well yeah but what if we could be-”

He pulled his jeans up his frame, quickly buttoning them as he avoided her gaze. “You’re the last person I wanted to have a drunken hookup with, I’m sorry.” he said while shaking his head. He picked his shirt up from the floor as he covered his frame, “Can we talk about this later? I’m running late for practice,” he offered as he quickly slipped on his shoes and left the dorm room.

She sat up straight, feeling her eyes well up in tears. It was as if her heart completely shattered at that moment. All she has ever wanted was to be something more with Luke. She was madly in love with him and maybe that was her turning point, last night. She thought maybe that meant he was in love with her too.

That was five months ago. They never spoke about it again, rarely saw each other again. Luke had moved to New Jersey to pursue his dream of playing in the NHL. They only briefly saw each other during passing at school before he left. She avoided him the entire time and it felt like he was avoiding her too.

Except today was the first day that she was going to see him again. A few years ago, the older Hughes brother’s bought the lakehouse that was directly next to their longest family friends growing up. Y/N and her family. She was driving her own car towards her lakehouse, like she’s done since she was sixteen. Except the entire time she was filled with dread as her boyfriend, Kyle, was sitting in the passenger seat beside her. 

They had only been together for three months but her parents agreed to let him join and she was excited to spend the time with Kyle but also hating the idea that she would have to see Luke and Kyle in the same room.

She nervously tapped her fingers against the steering wheel as they pulled into her spot in the garage as it was big enough to hold two spots. 

“So these guys that own the place next door, are we going to be seeing them a lot?” Kyle asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt. Y/N widened her eyes slightly as she forced a smile.

“They should be inside right now actually,” Y/N mumbled as she reluctantly unbuckled her seatbelt. She didn’t want to see Luke again, except every part of her body felt weak knowing he was only a few doors away. 

“Good, I mean it’s good to meet them now,” he muttered as he pushed the passenger door open and climbed out of the car. She followed in pursuit. He waited for her at the door to enter her house with a kind smile. She returned it as she wrapped her arms around his chest giving him a quick hug.

“I’m excited to spend the next few weeks with you,” she mumbled against her chest. He kissed the side of her head before he pulled away. They stepped inside the house, “Can you actually put our suitcases and stuff in my room, right over there?” she asked, suddenly wanting to see the brothers by herself first. 

Kyle nodded excitedly before he stepped out of the door towards the car again. Y/N took a deep breath as she walked through the hallway leading towards her kitchen. 

The three boys were hanging out around the kitchen island. Quinn was sitting on a barstool chair holding a seltzer against his lips. Jack was sitting on the countertop staring at his phone. Luke was leaning against the countertop as he was snacking on some of the chips her mother probably set up for them.

“You guys do realize your house is next door right?” she said as she walked towards the kitchen.

Quinn turned around and smiled widely when he saw her walking towards the three of them. Jack hopped off of the counter as he chuckled. Luke turned his gaze towards her and looked as if he saw a ghost. He stayed frozen as he watched her walk towards them.

“Your mom buys the best snacks,” Quinn said excitedly as he engulfed her in a tight hug. “How’ve you been?” he asked as he rested his hand onto her upper arm, surveying her features. Jack jogged towards her hugging her tightly, she laughed as she rocked back and forth with him.

“I’ve been doing good, how are you guys?” she said as Jack pulled away. She glanced towards Luke, who hasn’t taken his eyes off of her since she stepped inside the house.

“Off season started a bit early but otherwise we’re great, ready for some sun,” Quinn muttered as he pulled Y/N to his side again, Quinn looked towards Luke for a few seconds, “Lukey, are you going to say hi?” Quinn offered tilting his head to the side.

Luke shook his head slightly as he stood up from his leaning position and he took a deep breath as he began walking towards her and Quinn slowly.

“Well, actually I should go check on Kyle. Make sure he didn’t get lost,” she slipped from Quinn’s grasp as she started walking away from them.

“Kyle?” Luke let out. Y/N spun around to meet Luke’s gaze. She widened her eyes as she nodded.

“My boyfriend? Did my mom not tell you guys he was joining us for a few weeks out here?” she offered.

“Y/N?” Kyle called out from the back hallway. She forced a smile as she searched down the hall for him.

“Hey baby,” she said as she stepped into her bedroom, her voice echoing into the kitchen.

“Kyle?” Jack let out barely above a whisper, his face scrunched up in disgust. “Did you know she had a boyfriend?” Jack pointed his question to Luke. Luke crossed his arms over his chest as he shook his head. Jack stared towards him furrowing his eyebrows harshly, “Why are you acting weird?” 

“I’m not,” he mumbled before he started shoving more chips in his mouth. Quinn and Jack shared a look before they decided to drop it. 

Y/N and Kyle walked from the hallway together side by side. Hearing his heavy footsteps, Luke kept his gaze on the sour cream and onion chips in front of him as he continued to snack. Y/N nervously wrapped her arm around Kyle as she walked towards the kitchen.

“Kyle, these are the boys,” she muttered motioning towards them, “That’s Quinn, Jack, and that’s L-Luke,” she pointed out each of the guys individually. Quinn and Jack walked towards the pair, each of them forcing a smile. 

“Nice to meet you,” Quinn offered his hand and Kyle gladly took it. Kyle offered his hand towards Jack and he reluctantly took the handshake. 

Luke leaned upward from his leaning position as he slowly walked towards the small group. Y/N looked towards him, their eyes meeting for the first time in months. Her breath caught in her throat as she forced her gaze to meet Kyle. 

Kyle offers his hand to Luke and Luke shakes his hand with a polite smile. “You go to UMich?” Luke asked as he rested his hands on his hips. 

Kyle nodded, “Yeah, I’m on the wrestling team,” he smiled as he spoke. 

“That’s sick,” Quinn offered as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

The small group continued to talk to one another beside Luke. He kept watching Y/N, his longest friend, his best friend. The woman he loved, in a relationship with someone else. The last time they hung out crossed his mind, like it did a thousand times a day. 

He freaked out. He freaked out when he woke up with her back pressed against his chest and their legs entangled together. His heart swelled with so much happiness as he looked at her sleeping beside him that morning, except every other part of his body resorted to panic. 

His eyes meet Y/N’s gaze, scanning her features for any sign that she thinks about that night too. She clenched her jaw before she turned her gaze back to Quinn. Luke pulled his lips between his teeth as he dropped his gaze to the floor. 

“I’m going to go unpack my stuff,” Luke let out as his gaze met each person in the small room. Quinn pulled his head back as he let out a breathy chuckle. 

“You never unpack when we come here,” Quinn offered.

“Feel like using my dresser for once,” he said with a simple shrug before glancing towards Y/N one more time before he started walking out of the kitchen. 

“We should probably unpack too,” Kyle said as he rested his hand on her hip as he held her possessively to his side. Y/N nodded as the pair walked back towards her room, she spun her gaze around towards the back door that Luke walked out of.

Quinn and Jack looked towards each other awkwardly as they both started walking out of the back door. “They’re acting weird, right?” Jack asked.

“Very,” Quinn shot back as they walked out of the house back towards their own.

After another twenty minutes Quinn and Jack both barged into Luke’s room to see him actually unpacking his clothes and putting them into his dresser and closet. He had soft country music playing as he was pacing around the room putting things in random spots.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked as he watched his younger brother. Luke only hummed as a reply as he added his hoodies to a coat hanger. “Are you sure? You and Y/N never shut up when you two are together.” Jack observed. 

“We haven’t really talked these past few months,” he said as he walked towards his closet with the six hoodies he brought with him. 

“You guys used to never go a day without at least calling each other,” Quinn mumbled. 

Luke shrugged, “Things change,” he said keeping his gaze low and away from his brothers bombarding him with questions.

“What things?” Jack muttered. Luke shrugged his shoulders again.

Quinn furrowed his eyebrows harshly, “What, you guys hook up or something?” he asked teasingly, chuckling nervously.

Luke froze, his entire body stuck as he slowly met Quinn’s gaze for a few seconds before he shook his head. “No,” he let out barely above a whisper. He dropped his gaze again as his cheeks turned bright red. 

Jack’s eyes widened as his mouth dropped open as he shoved Quinn to the side. “When?!” Jack asked as he jumped up excitedly. 

“I said we didn’t,” Luke said as he nervously ran his hand across his chin. 

Quinn smiled widely, “Yeah but you're a horrible liar, Lukey. What happened? Was it bad or something?” 

It was the opposite. It was probably the best sex he’s ever had. It made him realize how much love he actually had for her as they didn’t just hook up. It felt like the start of something, a new chapter. A chapter where they were madly in love with one another.

“What? No,” he defended as he rolled his eyes.

“Then what happened?” Jack pressed.

Luke sighed as he shook his head, “I don’t know, I asked if we could talk about it later and we never did,” he took another deep breath.

“When did you guys-?” Quinn trailed off.

Luke threw his hands to the side, not wanting to talk about it any longer, “February, her sorority had some Valentine’s Day event we went to together. I walked her back to her dorm and we hooked up. Are you guys done asking questions?”

“No, dude, why didn’t you guys talk again?”

Luke clenched his jaw as he shook his head. His brothers were right, he was an awful liar. “I freaked out, okay?” he took a deep breath, “She’s my best friend and instead of telling her how I felt, I had sex with her while we were drunk. That’s a dickhead move. I just didn’t know what to say,”

“What’d you freak out about?” Jack asked.

“Everything was going to be different with her,” he let out while shaking his head, “I didn’t want to lose her, if I fucked things up and I fucked things up anyway. Can we please stop talking about it? I don’t want to be thinking about it while we all on the boat later,”

~~~

It was nine at night and the sun was already down but they were still hanging out on the boat. The music was loud to the point where you could only hear the person next to each other talk. Her parents were sitting and talking with Quinn and Jack as Ellen and Jim were talking with Luke. Y/N and Kyle were in their own world. 

Except every time Luke spoke, Y/N felt her heart flutter. She missed him, she missed him so much that it was physically painful. Her chest would ache hard at the idea of not talking with him.

Y/N kept her gaze on Luke, discreetly. “You okay?” Kyle whispered into her ear, pulling her gaze towards him. She nodded as she leaned towards him, kissing him briefly.

Luke was tuning out whatever his mom and dad were talking about as he saw Y/N kissing Kyle. He felt as though his heart shattered. He clenched his jaw as he dropped his gaze towards his lap. Quinn glanced towards Y/N briefly before he looked towards his youngest brother. He clenched his jaw as he shook his head. 

“You know,” her mother leaned towards Quinn, “I always thought Y/N and Luke would’ve ended up together.” Quinn's eyes widened as he looked towards her, “It just seems like they are growing apart. Breaks my heart,” she said as she tilted her head to the side.

“You don’t like Kyle?” Quinn asked, and she shrugged.

“He’s a sweet boy. He’s just not our Luke,” 

“I think we all thought they were going to end up together,” Quinn whispered towards her and she nodded. 

~~~

The next day, Y/N and Kyle stayed in bed for a few extra hours just basking in each other's company. “You know, I thought you and Luke were the closest? I mean being the same age at least,”

She was thrown off by the sudden subject change as her face scrunched up slightly. She cleared her throat as she nodded, “We were,” she started as she saw Kyle take in a sharp breath. “He was my best friend, but we had a falling out a few months ago,” she mumbled. 

Memories of the night in question flashed in her mind. His lips against her own as they were breathing heavily and grinding against each other's bodies. She recalled feeling her body fill with butterflies as he kissed her in the most dream-like way.

“What happened?” he asked. She looked into his dark brown eyes as she tried to figure out if she should tell the truth. Kyle nodded slightly as he took in a deep breath, “Let me guess,” he mumbled, “You guys had sex?” 

She clenched her jaw as she nodded slightly. “How’d you know?” she muttered as she met his gaze.

“I don’t know, it’s the way he looks at you; like he’s seen you naked or something,” he mumbled, a dry chuckle leaving his throat. She smiled softly as she rolled her eyes playfully. 

“It just made things awkward between us, we haven’t spoken since it happened,” she let out. He remained silent as he processed, “Are you mad that I didn’t tell you?” she asked.

“No, I mean as long as it was just sex. Like you didn’t have feelings for him, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, no-no feelings,” she mumbled.

~~~

She sat on the bathroom counter, his legs between her own. She adjusted the red heart around his neck that had her name written in cursive across it. “I never thought you would join a sorority,” he let out as he rested one of his hands on her thigh. She smiled as a chuckle fell from her lips. 

“It looks good on a resume,” she mumbled as she took a hold of a spray bottle and started spraying it onto his curls. His face scrunched up together as some of the mist hit his face. 

“This is tacky,” he continued, holding up the heart around his neck. She smirked as she took a hold of some of her own hair product and ran her fingers through his hair. “Do we have to wear these the whole night?” 

“Yes, Lukey,” she mumbled as she tilted her head to the side as she admired the work she did on his hair. “And until I get a boyfriend, you have to be my date to these things,” she said as she pushed him backwards slightly so she could hop off the bathroom counter. 

She adjusted the short black dress on her frame as she looked towards the mirror. She straightened out the red heart with Luke’s name. “What are we even going to do there?” he asked as he ran his fingers through his own hair. 

“Drink, dance, and take lots of photos,” she mumbled as she applied lip gloss to her lips. Luke eyed her lips as she added the clear gloss. “It’ll be fun,” she mumbled as she turned to meet his gaze. 

He huffed as he smiled, “You and I have different definitions of fun,” he mumbled. She rolled her eyes playfully as she took a hold of her phone and pulled out her camera. “Oh awesome, fun’s starting now,” he said sarcastically.

“You can be unbearable sometimes, you know that?” she let out teasingly as she wrapped her arm around the center of his back as he draped his arm around her lowerback. He pulled her tightly towards him. 

“Yeah, you too,” he shot back as he turned his head towards her with a teasing smile. She rolled her eyes as she snapped the photo of them at that moment.

“Smile,” she mumbled as she turned her gaze towards the mirror and snapped a few photos of them. Most of them are Luke glancing towards her the entire time. 

~~~

Later that night, Y/N stepped foot inside her own lakehouse, getting another drink from the fridge inside when she saw Luke sitting on the barstool beside her kitchen island. He lifted his gaze as he tossed a few chips into his mouth. His eyes scanned her body. Taking note of every single curve of her frame and how the two piece swimsuit showed every perfect part of her body. 

“Hi,” she let out as she smiled softly. He returned the soft smile as he sat up straight as she walked past the kitchen island.

“Hey,” he mumbled as he nervously ran his fingers through his hair. They remained silent as she took a Truly from the fridge and cracked it open. She spun around and met his gaze. “Kyle seems nice,” he mumbled. She smiled.

“Yeah, he is,” she muttered as she brought the can to her lips. 

Their eyes remained connected as they remained silent for a few seconds. His eyes were soft and welcoming; he looked like he knew what she was thinking. All of things that have been left unsaid between them, it was as if their eyes were doing all the talking. Her heart went into overdrive.

Her eyes tried not to admire his body. His abs were prominent as well as the strong arm muscles. She took a deep breath as she rested her hands onto the counter. 

“How’s the NHL?” she asked. His eyes widened as he smiled softly.

“It’s amazing,” he mumbled, his eyes squinting slightly.

“You were fun to watch,” she let out as she met his gaze. He tilted his head to the side, a toothy grin on his lips.

“You watched the games?” he asked, genuinely shocked. She nodded dramatically. 

“You are still my best friend, Luke, Of course I was going to watch,” she mumbled as she met his gaze as she walked closer to him. He blinked his eyes rapidly as he looked away from her. 

“You seem happy,” he mumbled, unable to maintain eye contact with her. 

“Yeah, yeah.” she let out while shaking her head, “You too. I mean you’re living the dream, right?”

All he could do was hum as a reply as she was only a foot away from him and his chest was aching as he felt a magnet pulling her towards him but he tried to refuse the feeling and the desperation. 

“Why are you all alone inside? We’ve got an amazing bonfire going,” she asked as she leaned against the countertop. 

He couldn’t tell her the real answer. The real answer was that he had spent twenty-four hours watching Y/N and Kyle snuggle together and he was getting tired of it. He couldn’t breathe watching them because he wanted to kiss her cheek. He wanted to be the one holding her tightly. He wanted to be the one who loved her. He had to walk away and collect his thoughts.

While outside, Quinn was laughing at something Jack said when Kyle walked up to him. “Hey man, can I talk to you about something?” Kyle asked. Quinn’s smile slowly faded as he glanced towards Jack before he stood up and followed Kyle towards a secluded part of the backyard. Quinn nervously crossed his arms over his chest as he met Kyle’s gaze. “I’m gonna ask you a question and you’re going to not sugar coat anything,” Kyle asked. Quinn nodded.

“I’m not blind, alright? I know that your little brother has feelings for Y/N. She told me about what happened between them a few months back but she said that she didn’t have feelings for him. Is she telling the truth?” Kyle asked. 

Quinn took a deep breath as he licked his lips nervously. “We’re all close with Y/N. Jack and I have always treated her like she’s our little sister. Luke-” 

Quinn took in a sharp breath, “Luke’s been in love with her since he was eleven. He never wanted to act on it because he was terrified of losing her. Y/N was harder to see if she felt the same. Well, until they were like fifteen and they started cuddling all of the time. It was as if they constantly had to be near each other or the other one would implode. She dragged him to all of the school dances and sorority events.” he explained as Kyle was getting impatient.

“Look, they're avoiding each other because they are afraid of getting hurt. Which is causing them to get hurt anyway. You seem like a great guy, who would’ve been perfect for her. But there’s a lot of history between them that can’t be ignored,” 

Kyle remained silent as he took a deep breath. If he was being honest, he knew she wasn’t all in. He wasn’t even all in on the relationship either, it didn’t hurt to hear as much as he thought it was going to be. 

“I appreciate it, man.” Kyle mumbled as his gaze looked past Quinn to see Luke and Y/N walking out of the house together. Kyle let out a dry chuckle, “Can you tell her why I left? I’m going to pack my stuff and call an Uber.” Kyle mumbled. 

“What? You sure?” Quinn asked.

“Like you said, they’ve got history. I’m not stepping between that,” he said as he looked towards Y/N and Luke again. “Make sure they end up together, alright?” he said before he walked towards the house discreetly. 

Quinn stood still, his gaze on the dirt beneath his feet. “What the fuck just happened?” he asked himself as he walked back towards the bonfire. 

After another hour, Kyle was long gone and Y/N still had no idea. “Alright, you guys we’re going to go to bed, see you guys in the morning,” Her father expressed to everyone, the parents all went to their own lakehouse leaving the boys and Y/N alone. 

“Where’d Kyle go? Have you guys seen him?” she asked the three of them as she was starting to get a little worried. 

Quinn’s eyes widened as he cleared his throat, “He left,” is all he said. Luke perked upward at the mention. 

“What?” she let out.

“He-uh-he’s not as comfortable as he thought with you and Luke’s history. So he left,” Quinn said as his voice progressively got quieter. Luke kept shifting his gaze between Quinn and Y/N. She furrowed her eyebrows harshly as she leaned forward. 

“Did he tell you this history exactly?” she questioned, glancing at Luke for a second. 

“He might’ve,” he mumbled, glancing towards Luke, “Kinda already knew about it, though.” 

Y/N eyes flashed red as she turned her gaze towards Luke. “Can I talk to you?” she asked, standing up and walking towards Hughes's lakehouse. Luke’s room was on the second floor and his parents room was on the first. In her lakehouse her room was directly next to her parents. 

Luke slowly stood up from his seat, “Thanks,” he said sarcastically as he followed Y/N. Jack and Quinn shared a glance before they looked back towards the dying flame. 

Once Luke stepped into the house, he saw her already storming up the stairs towards his room. He took a deep breath as he skipped several steps to follow her faster. She walked into his room and began to pace back and forth. Luke shut the door behind him.

“You told Quinn!?” she called out. 

“An-and Jack, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to! You know I’m a bad liar,”

“What did you tell them exactly?!” she questioned.

He stayed quiet for a second as his heart was loud in his ear, “Quinn made a joke about us hooking up and I-I didn’t deny it that good so they found out. I told them that we just didn’t talk afterwards, we were just avoiding each other,” he explained.

Her mouth fell open as she nodded slowly. Her tongue pushed to the side of her mouth as she spun around to look away from him for a brief second. 

“Do you remember what you told me the next morning?” she asked, her voice quieter.

He met her gaze and squinted his eyes slightly, “That I was running late to practice and if we could talk about it later?” 

“Before that,”

He thought about it for a second, he replayed every second of that morning in his mind but the words were not coming to his mind. She took a deep breath as she clenched her fist and unclenched it. “You said that I was the last person you’d ever want to have a hookup with. Like-like it was embarrassing to have sex with me,” 

His eyes widened as he felt like punching himself in the chest. “Oh my god-no that’s not-”

“You hurt me, Luke!” she shouted towards him, her eyes welling up in tears.

 “I thought-I thought,” she shook her head again, “I don’t know what I thought but that was horrible to hear. Especially from you! You were supposed to be my best friend.” she shouted towards him. 

“That’s not what I meant!” he said loudly, “That not what I meant,” he let out softer as he stepped towards her, almost reaching out to touch her. 

“You know, I cared a lot about Kyle! We could’ve been something great. He was sweet and charming and he would’ve never said that to me but you-you ruined that!” she shouted as she stared deeply into his eyes. The tension was rising between them as they were only a foot apart.

“Well, if you care about the guy so much why aren’t you going after him?! Huh? Why are you standing here, shouting at me?!” he countered, getting closer to her face. She clenched her jaw as her heart was beating hard against her chest. Her skin felt hot as if steam was leaving her body. 

“I don’t know!” she shouted back as her eyes looked deeply into his eyes. His eyes were staring hard back towards her. 

“You didn’t deserve our first time together to be a drunken hook up,” he expressed, taking another step towards her. “You deserved roses and candles and all that sappy romantic shit not some dorm bed we barely fit on,” he continued as he scanned her softening features.

“Luke-”

“I couldn’t tell you I loved you, I couldn’t tell you because I was scared I was going to lose my best friend. And then I fucked up and lost you anyway,” he explained as they were mere inches apart now. “You deserved better than that and I couldn’t face it,” he mumbled. 

She leaned towards him, urgently kissing him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she felt her body jump against him. 

He quickly took a hold of her lower back pulling her towards him. The tension between them only increased as their lips remained connected sloppily.

She jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her bare thighs against his body rushed goosebumps against her skin. 

He delicately laid her down onto his bed as his lips pulled away from hers briefly, admiring her features from the very short distance.

“I love you too,” she mumbled as she ran her fingers through the ends of his curls. He pecked her lips briefly before he leaned fully away from her. “Where are you going?” she asked barely above a whisper.

“We’re not doing this now,” he muttered as shook his head. He stood up from the bed and walked towards his closet to give her some clothes to sleep in. Instead of the swimwear still covering her frame.

“Why not?” she asked, pouting slightly. He smiled widely as he tossed her one of his hoodies and a pair of shorts she left at his dorm several months back. 

“Candles and roses,” he mumbled as he covered his frame in one of his hoodies. She smiled widely as she began to put on the clothes he handed her.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Synopsis: Tabito Karasu has been in love with you for almost as long as he can remember. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like you have any intentions of reciprocating, considering you’ve only ever seen him as a child — and, more importantly, as your best friend’s little brother.

BLLK Masterlist | Part Two | Otoya Version

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Total Word Count: 41.6k

Content Warnings: reader is older than karasu (by like two years so it’s nbd but it exists), no blue lock au, bratty baby karasu, jealous karasu, slow burn, childhood friends, i have no idea how to write kids just deal w it, karasu’s older sister is given a name (look at that word count LMAO i’m not calling her ‘karasu’s older sister’ the entire time), reader gets drunk at one point, karasu the goat of pining, yukimiya and otoya mentions ⁉️

A/N: yes this is inspired by the song “best friend’s brother” from victorious but has barely anything to do with it. yes this is probably the longest karasu fic you will ever read as of its publishing date (word count is not a typo it fr is that long). yes reader and karasu are fuck ass little kids for half of the fic. i have nothing to say for myself except that i love karasu so much and i cannot be stopped…also tumblr is an opp so i had to split this into two parts EEK i’m sorry!!

In a sea of bright, patterned umbrellas, only one was dark and plain. It was wide, the practical sort, all but dwarfing the girl who held it as she hurried along to the covered entrance of the school, her shoulders hunched against the wind and her steps brisk. You thought that she seemed small for your age, like a particularly strong breeze might blow her away entirely, and strangely gloomy, though this might’ve been an effect of the weather and not her personality.

Your own umbrella was cheery, a pink-striped thing that announced its presence in a most domineering way and clashed with the shades of orange and teal and green around it. You had found it pretty when your parents had given it to you, but now you were much more taken with the sole matte black one that wove in and out of the crowd, the clear raindrops resting on it like diamonds.

By the time you were past the cherry trees lining the parking lot, you had lost the girl and her black umbrella alike. It should’ve been impossible, considering what an anomaly it was, but then again that color was like a shadow, blending in unless one looked for it very carefully, and sometimes even then.

You would’ve worried, but you had bigger problems to be preoccupied with — namely, it was your first day of elementary school, and you had no idea what to expect. Setting the girl out of your mind, you used your free hand to fiddle with the name tag on your breast pocket, ducking under the roof before closing your umbrella and shaking the excess water off of it. Then you scurried after an older student who seemed like they knew where they were going, following them until you found yourself in a corridor you recognized from the tour you had taken with your parents prior to the start of the year.

In the classroom, there was a shelf where you could put your wet umbrellas in neat rows. You didn’t see any rhyme or reason to how they had been arranged, except that everyone had avoided putting theirs beside the dull, dark umbrella that you had admired. Glancing around at the rest of your classmates, who had already grouped themselves into loose clusters based on their seats, you set your umbrella beside the black one. For some reason, the pink stripes at that angle resembled frowns; you found it suitable, then, that those two were the only ones on that shelf. They seemed to go together, depressed and angry in turn.

Although you had not seen the girl’s face, you recognized her immediately. She sat apart from everyone else, her spindly limbs held close to her body, her heart-shaped face dominated by a pair of sapphire eyes, hair like an oil spill pulled into a high ponytail that cascaded down her back like tail-feathers. At first glance, she was unassuming, and at second she was entirely off-putting, but you were contrarian enough to take a third, and it was only then that you realized she was actually magnetic in a way, her lips pulled into a serene smile, her irises lively and brows high with interest.

“Hello,” you said, taking the seat beside her. “I’m Y/N L/N.”

It was the radical thing, what you had done in willingly isolating yourself from the others, but you found that you had no interest in those shallow peers of yours, who had not bothered to look at a person three times and see the truth of their being. This girl, with her black umbrella and her keen gaze and her bird-like countenance, was the only one in the entire room you wanted to befriend.

“Are you talking to me?” she said. Her accent was more pronounced than yours, which resembled the one of your Tokyo-born parents’ far more than it did the rougher cadences that most people in the region spoke with. The boisterousness of her voice contrasted sharply with her frail appearance, though to charming effect, and it warmed you to her even more.

“Uh-huh,” you said. “It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Karasu,” she said. “Yayoi Karasu. Good to meet you, too, L/N.”

Karasu. She was a crow, and as pretty and sharp as one, too. It was more fitting of a name than it ought to be, and you nodded, because your childish mind liked when things made sense, could be categorized into labeled boxes. Black umbrella. Blue eyes. Crow-wing hair. Yayoi Karasu.

“Let’s be friends,” you said, and maybe it was a blunt, straightforward request, but she did not seem to mind it.

“You want to be friends with me?” she said.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you said. She shrugged, bony shoulders brushing against her earlobes from the jerky motion.

“Don’t know. Just doesn’t seem like the others want to,” she said.

“The others are stupid. They’ll feel bad about it later, but by then we won’t need them,” you said.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s be friends, L/N.”

“If we’re friends, then you can call me Y/N,” you said.

She grinned, wide and gleaming. “Only if you call me Yayoi. Just Yayoi.”

When you got home that night, the first thing you did was race to the living room, where your mother was sitting, knitting needles stationary in her hands as she watched a drama.

“Mama!” you said, jumping onto the sofa beside her, tugging on her sleeve until she paused her show and looked at you. “Mama, I made a friend today.”

“Did you? How exciting! What’s their name?” she said.

“Yayoi Karasu, but she said I can just say Yayoi ’cause we’re friends,” you said.

“That’s wonderful,” your mother said. “Do you want to have Yayoi over sometime?”

“Hm, yes, I think so,” you said, already envisioning how fun it would be to play with her outside of school. You supposed you didn’t know much about what she liked to do, but you doubted it was anything you wouldn’t also enjoy, so there wouldn’t be a problem. There couldn’t be — the two of you were friends, and there were never problems between friends.

Within two weeks came an invitation, made before you could extend your own. The Karasu family wanted you to come over, and though your parents wished they had asked first, they did not mind that you were going, especially considering how elated you were when you relayed the news.

It was a short walk to Yayoi’s house, or perhaps it was that you were so excited which shortened the distance; either way, it hardly took any time at all before you and your mother were at their doorstep. You hid behind her leg when she knocked, suddenly timid, although you had no reason to be.

The woman who answered the door resembled Yayoi greatly, though she was fuller and taller and exuded an air of great confidence. She could only be Yayoi’s mother, and you wondered if this was the kind of person Yayoi would grow up to be.

“Are you Mrs. Karasu?” your mother said. The woman nodded, gesturing you into the home invitingly.

“Yes! You must be Mrs. L/N — Y/N’s mother?” she said.

“That’s right. Y/N, please say hello to Mrs. Karasu,” your mother said.

“Hello, Mrs. Karasu,” you said, your voice catching in the back of your throat. She had the same voice as Yayoi, the same exuberance to her words and geniality to her tone, but coming from her, it was almost intimidating.

“Yayoi should be in the playroom — down that hallway, the first door on your left. I’m surprised she didn’t come to the door to greet you; your visit is all she’s been able to talk about for the entire week,” Mrs. Karasu said.

“Y/N, too,” your mother said affectionately. You left them to speak in the kitchen, darting in the direction Mrs. Karasu had indicated, ducking into an appealingly decorated playroom.

The walls were painted pale yellow, and there were colorful bins stacked in the corners, labels written on them in black marker which detailed what their contents were. There was no sign of Yayoi, but in the center of the room, surrounded by a rainbow of blocks, was a little boy holding a model train in his hands.

He had the same hair as Yayoi, though while hers was sleek and flat, his stuck up every which way, a bitter warning to those who might’ve tried to tame it. His cheeks were rounder than hers, and his eyes were darker, the same deep shade as mulberry stains, but there was undeniably a resemblance between the two.

Though he was quite taken by the train he was playing with, he looked up when you opened the door to the room, and then he cocked his head, thick eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Do you know where Yayoi is?” you tried, hoping he could understand you. He was obviously younger than you and Yayoi, though you were unsure by how much — a year? Two?

“Ya-yi?” he repeated, stumbling over her name endearingly.

“Yes, Yayoi,” you said. “Where is she?”

He hummed in a whimsical way which clearly meant he had no clue, and then he raised his hand with the toy in it, beaming at you.

“D’you like my train?” he said.

“Yeah, it’s a cool color,” you said, not wanting to hurt his feelings. As an only child, this sort of interaction was out of your realm of expertise, but for some reason, you had an urge to try your best.

“My favorite,” he said. “Light blue.”

“That’s a good favorite,” you said. “So. Are you Yayoi’s little brother?”

“Yes,” he said enthusiastically. “I’m Tabito. Who are you? Ya-yi’s friend?”

“I’m Y/N,” you said. “Yayoi’s friend from school.”

“Y/N!” he said, like your name was the greatest word he had ever learned. “Let’s play trains! Can you play trains with me? Can we please play trains?”

You frowned. You needed to find Yayoi, but it wasn’t like you could wander around their house aimlessly, and Mrs. Karasu knew you were in the playroom, so your best course of action was staying put until your friend found you. Then, if that was the case, there was really no harm in obliging him, even if you weren’t an avid train enthusiast.

“Sure, alright,” you said, sitting down across from him and holding your hand out. “Give me one.”

He blinked at you. “Get your own.”

“I don’t know where you keep them, so I can’t,” you said.

“Then, um, then you can build, okay?” he said, piling blocks into your waiting hands. “Make a bridge. Do you know what a bridge is?”

“Yes?” you said. He seemed delighted by this, his entire face glowing from the simple affirmation; eager to keep his spirits high, you pointed at a point on the carpet. “Can I build it here?”

“Um…okay,” he said. It didn’t seem like he was particularly keen on the notion, but you were out of ideas at that point, so you just shrugged and began to stack the blocks into something resembling the bridges you had driven past on trips to your grandparents’ respective homes in Tokyo.

Tabito was too busy rolling the trains around the playroom to supervise your attempts at construction, so you were left to your own devices, designing it in the way you saw fit. Right when you had deemed the structure finished and turned to ask him if he liked it, the door to the playroom slammed open and Yayoi bounced in, hugging a hamper to her chest.

“Y/N! I’m sorry, I went to get all of my toys from my room, but then I had to go to the bathroom, so that’s why I’m late,” she said.

“It’s okay,” you said.

“Ya-yi!” Tabito said. “You’re playing with your upstairs toys? Can I also?”

“No way!” Yayoi said, hiding the hamper behind her. “Go somewhere else and leave Y/N and I alone!”

His lower lip trembled, and then, though he had been so happy only moments earlier, he broke into wailing sobs, causing Yayoi to groan and face-palm. Within seconds, Mrs. Karasu had burst into the room, looking around and only calming when she realized you were all alright, or at the least uninjured.

“What’s the matter?” she said.

“I told Tabito to leave Y/N and I alone and he just started crying!” Yayoi said.

“You should be nicer to your younger brother,” her mother reprimanded her, hands on her hips. “He’s still little. It’s up to you to be the bigger person in these kinds of disagreements.”

“I don’t wanna! He’s annoying! Can’t you take him away? We want to play with our toys now!” Yayoi said.

Tabito cried harder at this, hiccuping as Mrs. Karasu swept him into her arms with a sigh.

“Now, now, Tabito, don’t be upset,” she said, using her sleeve to wipe his teary cheeks. “Let’s go watch TV and let your sister play with her friend.”

“Okay!” he said, the tantrum dissipating as quickly as it had come. He rested his chin on his mother’s shoulder, waving a small hand at you as he and Mrs. Karasu rounded the corner, leaving you and Yayoi to play on your own.

“Finally,” Yayoi said. “Little brothers are the worst.”

“He made me build a bridge for his trains,” you said, pointing at your attempt at architecture. Yayoi giggled.

“That looks nothing like a bridge,” she said.

“I did my best,” you said. “How old is he?”

“He’s four,” she said. “And a total pain.”

“Really?” you said. Setting aside the fit he had had when Yayoi had demanded he leave, he hadn’t seemed like anything but a typical and cute little kid.

“You don’t get it because you don’t have to live with him, but he’s the worst,” she said. “And my mom always takes his side, too! It’s super unfair.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Don’t you have any siblings?” she said.

“No, I’m an only child,” you said.

“Ah, that makes sense,” she said. “Anyways. Sorry you had to play with him.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said. “I didn’t mind.”

“Huh. Whatever; do you want to see my favorite stuffed animals?” she said.

“Sure!” you said. She dumped the contents of the hamper on the floor, and thus began your playdate, which mostly consisted of her introducing her toys to you and you clapping appropriately.

You were fairly certain Yayoi was a good friend — in fact, you supposed you could even call her your best friend, though you didn’t have many others who could’ve taken the position, so it was as much by default as it was out of any perceived loyalty. Even still, it was true that she was someone you were genuinely fond of, and who was genuinely fond of you in return, so the title was earned and not just awarded at random.

It was nice being with Yayoi. As you came to learn, she was more practical than gloomy and more shy than off-putting. Once those initial guards came down, she was as affable as anyone, or maybe even more so. Your prediction came true in another sense; now that your classmates, too, saw the truth of yours and Yayoi’s personalities, they began to seek you out in droves, trying to befriend you both, to bring you into their folds and mix you into their exclusive groups.

The two of you entertained these attempts, of course — neither of you were loners at heart, and indeed felt quite at ease amidst throngs of people — but in the end, you never strayed far from each other. It was a known fact that you and her were best friends, that where one of you went, the other would not be far behind, and so your peers quickly decided to go for a sort of joint-befriending strategy.

“L/N, Karasu, do you guys want to come to the park with us this weekend? My mom’s bringing snacks and stuff,” one of your classmates asked you. You had advanced a grade since you had all met for the first time, so in theory all of you had known one another for at least a year at this point, but all you could recall of the short, stocky boy was that his name was something like Akamine or Arakawa.

Typically, Yayoi would glance at you for confirmation, but today she rapidly nodded her head at the boy. Akamine? Arakawa? You wished that he would introduce himself so you were spared the embarrassment of asking.

“We’d love to, Aoyama. Thank you for inviting us,” she said. Aoyama. You had been astoundingly off the mark; silently thanking Yayoi, who had no doubt picked up on your struggle if not your distaste, you grunted.

“Sure,” you said. You had no great desire to go, not when this Saturday was supposed to be the first fair day after a week of rain. You’d rather spend it doing something of your own choosing, not playing in a park with people you hardly knew. But Yayoi was going, so you would, too, dutifully and without much complaint. “Though we’ll have to ask our parents first.”

It was just a formality. Neither Yayoi’s parents nor yours ever denied you from frolicking about with your school-friends, as long as you had done everything you needed to at home. In Yayoi’s case, it was that they were happy that she was coming out of her shell so rapidly, and for you, it was because your parents found it difficult to say no to you when you were their only and most beloved child.

As your mother’s weather app had predicted, there was sunlight on Saturday — gray and watery, to be sure, but it held fast in its patch of sky, its small corner of periwinkle which contrasted with the silvery lavender of the looming thunderheads threatening another storm in the near future.

You arrived at the park before Yayoi, and so you pretended to be famished, looking through the snacks that Aoyama’s mother had brought while you waited for her to come.

When she did, it was with an expression not too dissimilar to the clouds on the horizon on her face and a set of small fingers squeezed in between hers, their owner struggling to keep up with her furious, stomping pace.

“You brought Tabito?” you said when she reached where you were waiting. Her younger brother stood at her side, wearing a dark blue raincoat and a pair of black mittens, though it wasn’t that cold out. Someone — you could only assume his mother — had attempted to comb his hair back into something resembling a neat style, but they had mostly been unsuccessful, for it had not been tamed any.

“It wasn’t my choice,” Yayoi said, shooting the oblivious boy a dark glare. “My mom made me. According to her, it’s good for siblings to play together.”

“Look, Y/N,” Tabito said, pulling on your sleeve to get your attention and then opening his mouth wide, revealing a gaping hole in the row of his pearly upper teeth. “I lost my first tooth!”

“Did you throw it in the air?” you said.

“Of course,” he said, very self-importantly and more than a little derisively, as if you had been a fool to suggest otherwise.

“Good job,” you said. He was in his last year of kindergarten, and so he would soon join you and Yayoi at your school, which meant he was eager to learn everything he could from you in order to prepare for the momentous leap. This meant that there was not a person in the world who was a better listener than him; given, of course, that one was prepared to entertain his multitude of questions and did not find the curiosity to be a nuisance.

“Yayoi, can we go on the swings?” he said. He had, in the time you had known the two of them, accustomed himself to saying her name properly, though this was only a small consolation to the irritable Yayoi, who would rather he not say her name at all.

“Maybe later,” she said. “Right now, Y/N and I are going to play with our friends, but after that, we can go on the swings, okay? You just sit here and don’t get into trouble for a bit.”

For a moment, it seemed like he would argue, but around Tabito, Yayoi became a much bossier and more tyrannical version of herself, a version whose commands were impossible to deny, and so he only nodded.

“Come back quickly so we can swing,” he said beseechingly. Yayoi ruffled his hair, undoing her mother’s efforts entirely, and then she jutted her chin out in the direction of your classmates.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” she said.

“Do you think he’ll be okay if we just leave him there?” you said as you both walked towards where everyone was gathering on the slides.

“Yes, it’s not an issue,” she said. “He’ll be mopey for a bit, but that’s just the way of things. It’s his fault for getting upset when I said he couldn’t come with me and involving our mom in it! If he wanted to swing, he should’ve just waited until tomorrow when I said the two of us could go by ourselves instead of insisting he wanted to come today and see all of my friends.”

“Aw,” you said. “It’s kind of sweet that he wanted to meet your friends.”

“Try stupid,” she said. “Do you think any of them, besides you, will really be nice to him? It would’ve been better if he just stayed at home, but I didn’t want my mom to get mad at me.”

“That’s true,” you said. “Well, you would know better, so don’t take me too seriously.”

“I wish we could swap places,” she said. “I’d love to be an only child, and obviously you want a younger brother, so it would make everyone happy if we could trade roles, don’t you think?”

“You’d be sad if you didn’t have a sibling,” you said. “It’s a little bit lonely sometimes.”

“Seriously, you can have Tabito if you want,” she scoffed. “You’ll change your mind soon enough.”

She got carried away in a conversation with Aoyama after that. He was only too happy to oblige, although a needling sensation on the back of your neck alerted you to the fact that he was gazing at you all the while. You paid him no mind, though, preferring to observe everyone as they mingled about, waiting to see if anyone you could manage to tolerate would manifest.

Aoyama and his ilk were the sort of boneheaded future sports players that you least preferred. Normally, you were more outgoing than this, but in a group where you were so glaringly out of place, you withdrew into yourself, shrinking like a violet away from their brashness, which lacked a necessary amiability that would’ve made them far more approachable.

At one point, in an attempt to avoid Aoyama and his frequent stares, you glanced over your shoulder, pretending like you were checking on Tabito out of some sisterly duty. As an extension of Yayoi, it only made sense that you’d feel that same protective instinct for him, so no one questioned it when you muttered a quick farewell and made a beeline for where he was sitting.

Somehow, he had managed to stay in one place on the bench, his hands folded in his lap and his legs kicking in the air as he looked out at Yayoi forlornly. For some reason, he reminded you of a kitten which had been abandoned by its owner, so you stopped before him and poked him on the forehead to get his attention.

“Tabito,” you said. “Do you still want to go on the swings?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Is Yayoi coming?”

“Not yet,” you said. “But we can go together if you want.”

“You don’t want to play with your friends?” he said, hopping down from the bench and following you towards the swings anyways.

“Not really,” you said. “I’m only close with Yayoi anyways, and she’s busy with Aoyama at the moment.”

“Oh,” he said. It was an utterance filled with wisdom, or maybe that was just the impression he was trying to give off. Yet you earnestly believed at that moment that, despite his age, he understood what you meant when you said that, so you chose to think that it was the former.

“Do you need help getting on the swing?” you said when you reached the swing set.

“No, I can do it!” he said. “Watch, watch!”

He executed an inexplicable series of maneuvers that you could neither replicate nor even fathom, but somehow it ended up with him sitting squarely on the swing, his pale-knuckled hands gripping the chains tightly.

“Wow,” you said. “That was cool. Are you ready?”

“Yup!” he said. You pushed his back lightly, sending him soaring into the air, and the two of you continued in that manner for a while. It was meditative in a way; your mind was blank and the world was silent, save for the whistling of the wind. You didn’t have to care about what your annoying classmates would say next, or whether they were named Akamine or Arakawa or Aoyama or whatever.

If Tabito was your little brother, you’d take him to the playground every single day, and you’d push him on the swing for as long as he wanted. You were overcome with a sickening wave of jealousy for Yayoi, who could’ve done that but never did, and you wondered if this was how she felt towards you. Was it really that no one could ever just be satisfied with what they had? If you had been born with a sibling, would you have detested them as surely as Yayoi did Tabito?

There was another roll of thunder, louder and nearer this time than the last. A fat droplet of rain landed on your nose, and when Tabito next came closer to you, you caught him so that he would stop.

“What happened?” he said. “I want to keep swinging.”

“It looks like it’s about to start raining earlier than we thought,” you said. There was another droplet of rain, and then another, and another, in quicker and quicker succession until there was a verifiable deluge coming down. Tabito slid off of the swing, his left hand in your right as he pulled the hood of his raincoat up.

“Tabito!” It was Yayoi, running towards you and shouting frantically. “Y/N!”

“Yayoi, we should go!” you said as she skidded to a stop in the mulch bed of the swing set. She nodded, her eyelashes already clumping together, water trickling down her forehead. Grabbing Tabito’s other hand, she used her arm to cover her head, and you mirrored her actions, though it didn’t do much in the way of keeping you dry.

“My house is closer!” she shouted over another crack of thunder. All of you took off at a sprint, splashing through rapidly forming puddles without abandon as you raced towards her house, dragging Tabito along with you.

There was a sort of euphoria to it, and indeed you were all laughing as you went, despite the terror you felt with every new stroke of lightning. Tabito made sure to bring down his feet extra hard in the puddles, much to yours and Yayoi’s collective chagrin, as you were continuously sprayed with mud from his actions, but it was hard to tell him to stop when he was enjoying himself so thoroughly.

The three of you collapsed in the Karasus’ foyer right before the drumming beat of the rain increased even more, locking the door behind you and gasping for breath as you recovered from the exhausting run, Tabito sprawled atop Yayoi and your head leaning against her shoulder.

“I’m glad we’re all alright,” Yayoi said, hugging her brother tightly. He squirmed in her embrace, which only prompted her to squeeze him tighter until he yelled in protest.

“You three are a mess!” Mrs. Karasu said. Either the shutting of the door or Tabito’s shout had summoned her; regardless, she looked down at the set of you in fond disapproval, tugging you all to your feet. “By the time I’m done calling Y/N’s parents and letting them know where she is, I expect all of you to be washed up and in fresh clothes!”

You all exchanged glances before running up the stairs, shoving each other out of the way as you went, none of you wanting to be the last one to follow her directives, leaving behind wet footprints on the carpet wherever you stepped.

The next year, Tabito started primary school. For the most part, he walked to and from the building with you and Yayoi, holding onto his sister’s hand and listening to your conversations, frequently peppering his own interjections in. Every Wednesday, though, Yayoi had badminton club meetings, and you had art club, so he was left to walk by himself. Conversely, on Thursdays, he had soccer club — he was one of the youngest members, but he had been playing for two years at that point and could not fathom not joining the school team — which meant that you and Yayoi could dawdle as you wanted, walking at your own paces instead of the erratic one that Tabito often set.

That Wednesday, you were approached by Aoyama, who was a fellow member of the art club. He had neither the skill nor the aptitude for it, his paintings messy, the strokes of his calligraphy thick and runny, but no one could say he wasn’t determined. More than anyone in the entire club, he really tried his hardest, which was likely the sole reason he hadn’t yet been kicked out.

“Hey, L/N,” he said, jamming himself in between you and Yayoi as you walked to your afternoon classes. You sighed, having never found him agreeable despite how persistent he was. Yayoi gave him a dirty look; whatever friendliness she had had for him last year had long since vanished, replaced with the same disdain you held.

“Yes, Aoyama?” you said.

“Did you see art club’s canceled today?” he said.

“No, I didn’t. I haven’t had the chance to check the bulletin board. Did it say why?” you said.

“The teacher’s sick,” he said.

“I hope she gets better soon,” you said.

“Me, too,” he said. “I love the art club.”

“You sure do,” Yayoi said under her breath, earning an appreciative snicker from you and a perplexed look from Aoyama. She was privy to everything that happened in the art club courtesy of you; in exchange, she kept you updated about the goings-on of the badminton club, though these stories were decidedly less amusing, owing to the fact that most of the badminton club members were too dedicated to the sport to waste time with anything foolish enough to be entertaining.

Aoyama was bad at telling when he was unwanted, but even he could not deny that his presence was not required, and furthermore was an active impediment to your day. With a mumbled goodbye, he sped up so that he could reach your classroom before you and Yayoi, finally leaving you be once more.

“He’s so weird,” you said.

“Right?” Yayoi said. “Totally crazy. At least he was kind of helpful this time and only let you know that you don’t have art club today.”

“True, I was kind of scared he’d try to invite us to hang out with him again,” you said with a shudder. The corners of her eyes crinkled in sympathy.

“I think his birthday’s coming up. Do you think we’ll get invited to the party?” she said.

“I don’t know. Probably not. Girls and boys don’t go to each other’s birthday parties,” you said. “He might, though. It seems like he thinks we’re friends.”

“I guess we’ll see,” she said. “Are you just going to go home after school, then?”

“Yeah, it’s not like I have anything else to do,” you said. “Want me to walk with Tabito?”

“He’ll be alright if you don’t, but if you want to go that way, then it wouldn’t hurt,” she said. There were two routes you could take to get home from the school; one passed by the Karasu house, and the other was slightly shorter but in a different direction. Technically, you could’ve taken the second route today, but you didn’t mind walking for an extra minute or so to help out.

“Sure, I can do that. Do you think he’ll wait in the usual spot?” you said.

“Probably not. It’s not like he knows your meeting was canceled,” she reasoned. “But you should be able to catch up to him pretty quickly. He’s kind of distractible.”

It was true. Though he was a quick walker, Tabito was prone to stopping and staring at things which only he noticed, so it was hard to actually get to places in a reasonable time with him. That fact, combined with your comparatively longer strides, meant that even if he didn’t explicitly wait for you, you’d almost surely be able to walk most of the way home with him.

Students rolled out like an orderly tide the moment the bell rang, a veritable ocean of pressed shirts and dark shoes and jostling bags. Without an agreed-upon meeting point, it was impossible to find a person in the throng, and indeed you did not even attempt it, merely weaving through until the crowd began to thin as everyone dispersed, heading in different directions towards their respective homes and after-school activities.

It took you longer than you expected to find Tabito. He was standing in a patch of grass along the side of the road, his chin tilted up as he stared at a bird in wonder; it was so quintessentially him that you did not realize at first that something was wrong.

“Tabito!” you said cheerfully, tapping on his shoulder to get his attention. “My art club meeting got canceled, so we can walk back — did something happen?”

The jewel-like shade of his irises threw the rosy rims around his eyes into further relief. His dark lashes were bunched together with wetness, and his cheeks were puffy. Though he fought it, his lower lip trembled, and he sniffed when he noticed you frowning.

“No,” he said.

“Obviously, something did,” you said matter-of-factly. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” he mumbled.

“You can tell me what’s bothering you. I won’t make fun of you or anything,” you said. He shrugged stubbornly, shifting from foot to foot, gripping the straps of his backpack in his fists. You tried to think of what could’ve upset him. “Did you get yelled at in class?”

“No,” he said.

“Did you get in a fight with one of your friends?” you said.

“No,” he said.

“Hm. Has someone been messing with you?” you said. He was silent, but you knew you must’ve hit the mark because his cool facade — which was already terribly maintained in the first place — crumbled away entirely, his face falling and a small hiccup escaping him. “Oh, I see. You should’ve said something to Yayoi and I. Who is it? I'll yell at them.”

“It won’t help if you do,” he said quietly. “It’s better to just ignore them. I mean, it’s an average problem, so don’t make a big deal about it. They’ll probably go away after a while.”

“But it isn’t fair for you to have to deal with that on your own,” you said. “It’s not like it’s your fault. People like that just pick on whoever they have the chance to pick on. There’s those kinds of kids in my grade, too. Like you said, it’s common, but that doesn’t mean you have to accept it.”

“If you say something, it’ll just be worse the next time,” he said. “They’ll go away if I don’t pay attention to them. It’s not like I even care what they say. It doesn’t matter to me.”

When you pretended to look at the road, he brought up his forearm, rubbing his sleeve against his eyes in the moment where there was no one to notice. You saw it, but you did not bring it up, recognizing that it was something he’d rather not discuss.

“Alright,” you said as you set out towards his house. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“But if you change your mind, or if you’re ever having another problem, I hope you know I don’t mind helping,” you said. “Think of me as another Yayoi.”

“You’re not like Yayoi,” he said.

“Well, no, of course not,” you said. “I can be like an older sister for you, though, the way she is. Do you get it now?”

“I don’t want you to be an older sister for me,” he said crossly, kicking a piece of stray gravel across the road. “And I won’t have any other problems.”

The only way to tame his unruly hair was with wax, which made it as stiff as a board and completely impossible for you and Yayoi to ruffle it the way you used to. You had to settle for poking him in the cheek; considering it irritated him no less, it was a worthy substitute.

“Are you trying to be all grown up just because you’re in elementary school now? You’re still a little kid, so no need to act tough,” you said.

“I’m not a little kid!” he whined.

“Sure,” you said.

“I’m not! I’m only two years younger than you, it’s not a lot!” he insisted. You grinned at him.

“It is a lot. You just started elementary school, and this is my third year here. That means I’m way more experienced than you, so you should look up to me,” you said.

He folded his arms across his chest, grumbling something to himself that he wouldn’t dare vocalize to you, all thoughts of whoever had been bothering him earlier vanished. Maybe it wasn’t the best method of cheering him up, but though his mood had not improved, at least it had changed. That was the best you could do, so as he held onto your hand while you crossed the street, you congratulated yourself on the small victory.

As Tabito continued through primary school, two things became evident: one, he was uncannily smart, his eerily observant nature lending itself to a genuine academic prowess that one could consider exceptional, and two, because of his pride in this ability, he refused to ask anyone for assistance, no matter how hard he was struggling.

“It’s so dumb,” Yayoi told you one day at recess, scrubbing at a graphite stain that someone else had left on her desk. “He’s totally lost with long division, but whenever my parents or I offer to help him, he gets super mad at us. Even my grandma tried! Although she doesn’t really remember much about mathematics, so I don’t know what the point was there…”

“He’s always been the independent type, though,” you said. “It’s not a surprise.”

“It’ll be a surprise when he does terribly on his next test,” she said. “Considering how things have been going as of late and how badly he’s been doing on his homework assignments.”

You swept stray eraser bits littering the floor into a neat pile and then gathered them in a dustpan, pouring them into the trashcan Yayoi had dragged over for your convenience, thinking this over.

“I can try helping him,” you said. “You have badminton club today, right? So it’ll just be us two walking home. I can ask him if he wants me to explain it.”

Unlike the previous year, when both of your clubs had met on the same day, Yayoi’s badminton club meetings were now held on Thursdays. This was because the previous club supervisor had stepped down, and the sole teacher willing to fill the vacancy was only free on that day.

“Good luck with that,” Yayoi said.

“Tabito’s my buddy,” you said. “I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

Likely due to your closeness with Yayoi — you had been each other’s best friends for going on four years now, after all — you had built up some kind of relationship with her little brother, who was usually present whenever you went to see her. Most of the time it felt like he was your sibling, too, and certainly he was one of the few kids his age that you could tolerate without looking down on too much.

“Yayoi mentioned you’ve been having some trouble with long division,” you said that afternoon. It was a pleasant day, the vast blue of the sky unmarred by clouds, except for a few which were so fleecy and eggshell-pale that almost no one could be offended by them. The season was spring, and soon it would be unbearably hot, but for now, it was lovely and breezy and you were content with things as they were.

“She’s making it up,” Tabito said.

“Really? That’s great,” you said. “I always found long division super difficult. I had to have my parents explain it to me a few times before I got it.”

He eyed you warily. “You did? I thought you were good at school. Yayoi always says you’re the smartest person in your class.”

“I don’t know about being the smartest person in the class or anything, but I’m pretty good at school, yeah,” you said. “I mean, I always get full marks on my exams, don’t I? That’s because I don’t feel shy about asking for help when I need it. Isn’t it better to deal with problems when they first happen? Because if you wait too long, you’ll only get more and more lost; then, you’ll need even more help than if you had just gotten it out of the way at the start.”

“That’s true,” he said.

“If you don’t want Yayoi or your parents to help you, then I don’t mind doing it. We finished cleaning early in recess, so we got our homework done then, and my parents won’t mind if I stay at your house for a little bit,” you said.

“Okay!” he said eagerly. You were taken aback; you had fully believed that he’d take more convincing than just that, but here he was, as excited as anything, all but rejuvenated at the prospect. Perhaps it really was that relieving to be given the permission to ask for help as well as a method to receive it. “After you help me, can we play together?”

You didn’t necessarily want to play with him, but he said it with such wide, shimmery eyes that you could not help nodding in agreement. You weren’t quite sure what playing with him entailed, but you doubted it would be anything difficult, and you supposed you didn’t have much else to do that afternoon, so it wasn’t as if it was some great sacrifice.

Tabito and Yayoi’s grandmother was the only other one who was home at that time, so you and Tabito spread out your things on the dining table without worry, taking out pencils and graph paper so that you could discuss the issue at hand.

“What part are you having difficulty with?” you said.

“Um,” he said. You waited, but he only twirled his pencil in one hand, training his gaze on the blank sheet of paper.

“If you don’t tell me, I can’t explain it,” you said. “I won’t make fun of you.”

“You promise?” he said.

“Yes, I promise,” you said.

“All of it,” he said. “The teacher explained it too quickly.”

“That’s okay,” you said kindly. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Here, I’ll show you, and if it’s too fast, then tell me so I know to slow down.”

Thankfully, he was quick on the uptake, and within a few minutes, he was able to complete the practice problems on his homework without any hassle or intervention from you. You were glad to see the ease with which he approached the things he had been struggling with only moments previously, finding that his success was also yours, in a way.

He continued working until his entire sheet was filled out, and then he snapped the book shut and shoved it back in his bag. You did the same, clearing the table of the mess you had made and packing your own bag with your supplies.

“You didn’t forget that you’re going to play with me, right?” he said. You put your folder into the back pocket of your backpack and shook your head.

“No, but I don’t want the table to be disorderly if your parents come back from work early or if your grandmother needs it for something,” you said. He seemed suspicious, snatching your bag from you once he could tell that you were finished putting everything into it.

“I’ll put it with mine,” he informed you. “You can take it once we’re done playing.”

“Uh, okay,” you said, bemused. He ran up the stairs, a backpack hanging off of each arm, and returned with the same speed he had left with, a net in his hands. You gave him a confused look at the odd choice in toys. “What’s that for?”

“It’s springtime, so we can catch bugs,” he said, unlatching the back door. You made a face, having no interest in bugs, but you had said that you’d play with him already, so with a sigh, you traipsed out into the Karasus’ backyard with him.

Fortunately, Tabito was pretty flexible with his definition of playing. He wandered around, capturing bugs and bringing them to you so you could see, but for the most part he left you to sit under one of their flowering trees, leaning against the trunk and closing your eyes in something that was not quite sleep but was very close to it.

The blossoms perfumed the air so that it was sweet and fresh, and the shadows of the tree-boughs were lacy and delicate on your face. Petals fell into your hair and against your skin, and a soft wind murmured through the grass, swearing a million hushed things to you, things that you could only decipher at this edge of consciousness.

You realized dreamily that it had been quite some time since you had been jostled awake by Tabito, who up until that point had been quite steadily displaying his catches — which were mostly of the mundane, garden variety — to you with great flourish. Wondering what he was doing, you fluttered your eyes open, only to find him standing a few steps in front of you, his net loose at his side, wearing an expression of awe the likes of which you had never seen on anyone before, least of all him. When you opened your mouth to ask him what he was doing, he shook his head rapidly.

“Shh,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “You’ll scare it.”

“What?” you said. “Scare what?”

“Oh, no,” he said as his statement came true, the butterfly which had been resting on your nose taking wing at the sound of your voice. You gasped, for you had thought the brush of its legs to be nothing but flowers shaken loose from their branches, and your hand flew to your face, fingers grazing over where it had been sitting only moments previously.

The butterfly had wings the same blue-violet color as Tabito’s eyes, framed with black and interspersed with pale spots. It floated away lazily and easily, dipping back towards you once before disappearing into the sky for good, flying somewhere far out of your reach. You both watched it go in silence — for some reason, it didn’t feel right to speak in that moment, as if you would interrupt something very sacred and precious if you did.

“That was a great purple emperor,” he said after a while. “Sasakia Charonda. It’s the national butterfly of Japan.”

“I’ve never seen one before,” you said, your heart racing, though you had no clue why.

“They usually stay up high,” he said. “That’s what the book Yayoi gave me said. Apparently, they only come down if they’re looking for food.”

“What do they like to eat?” you said. Insects were his interest at the moment; he jumped from topic to topic, reading as much as he could about one subject and then moving on to another when he grew bored. Yayoi found it frustrating when he began to talk about whatever he was fixated on at the moment, but you liked to indulge him when you could. After all, you would give anything to have someone who would listen to you, but if you could not have that, then you would at least like to be that person for another. For him.

“Sap and nectar and fruit juice, I think,” he said. “They prefer sweet things.”

You smiled. “It must have found me sweet, then, for it to have stayed there for so long.”

You couldn’t understand why, but his cheeks turned pink like the flowers blooming overhead, and then he spun on his heel and stormed inside without further response, leaving you to look back up at the sky and wonder if you’d ever see that butterfly again.

At twelve years old, you and Yayoi graduated elementary school alongside the rest of your peers. It was the biggest moment of your lives up until that point, a cause of terror as much as celebration. Junior high would be an entirely different experience than the one you had grown accustomed to, and the only consolation was that you both were attending the same one, so you would have each other’s company through the transition and beyond.

The graduation ceremony was short, with the principal giving a speech and then leading the parents in a round of applause for your achievements. Your mother and father sat beside Yayoi’s; Tabito was there, too, in between his grandmother and a man who bore a resemblance to your classmate Aoyama.

Tabito was ten now, and he was entirely contrary, doing the exact opposite of whatever he was told. It was especially so when the one telling him to do something was a person he was related to — namely, Yayoi, who frequently gave up and begged you to boss him around for her instead. He was less reluctant to follow your commands, though this might’ve been because you phrased them more as requests than anything.

He had not mentioned it outright, but given his amenability as of late, you sensed that he’d miss you and Yayoi once you began to attend junior high. It’d mean he was left alone, after all, left alone where once he had had you two as his companions. He was old enough now that you did not worry as much — if anyone tried to bother him the way they had when he was younger, you were assured that he’d manage them without breaking a sweat, but still, just because he did not need you and did not acknowledge it did not mean that he did not want you there.

His bored expression vanished when he met your eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting as he raised his hand in a shy wave. You could not wave back, not when you were supposed to maintain your composure onstage, but you dipped your chin ever-so-slightly in acknowledgement, scrunching your nose at him when you were sure your teacher was not looking.

As soon as the ceremony was completed, you filed off of the stage to meet your families outside. The moment your principal dismissed you, you took off towards your parents, leaping into your mother’s arms with a squeal.

“You did it!” she said.

“Congratulations, Y/N,” your father said, the lines of his face deepening from the force of his grin. “We’re so proud of you.”

“I can’t believe it,” you said. “Yayoi and I are going to go to middle school next year.”

“Both of you are going to do amazing,” your mother said.

“That’s for certain,” your father agreed. “Did you want to go talk to the Karasus? I’m sure that boy of theirs wants to say hi.”

They exchanged one of those looks that you were frustratingly aware of but could never interpret, and then they ushered you towards where Yayoi was standing with her family.

“Y/N!” Mrs. Karasu said when she noticed you. “Wonderful job, honey. We’re all so happy that you and Yayoi are going to continue to go to school together!”

“It’s true, we were just talking about it,” Mr. Karasu said. “It’s a lucky thing.”

“Isn’t it? And lucky for us, too, I’d say,” your father said. Mr. Karasu chuckled, slapping your father on the back in agreement. Thanks to you and Yayoi, your parents had become close, and indeed your fathers often claimed that they were each other’s ‘only friends.’ They were as glad as you were that you would not be split apart. After all, you doubted they could handle meeting new people and befriending them after so long together.

Your parents began to reminisce over the days when you and Yayoi were younger, and when you looked for Yayoi, you saw that she was talking to her grandmother, who she had always been close with. This left you to glance around in search of someone else to speak with yourself, though unfortunately, you soon came to the realization that there were not so many options.

“Y/N.” It was Tabito standing in front of you, his hands clasped behind his back. He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the pavement periodically, far more interested in the plumes of dust it created than anything, his head inclined towards his feet instead of at you. “Good job.”

“Thanks!” you said, glad to have a conversation partner. “It’ll be you, soon. Just two years! Are you excited?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to go to the same junior high school as you, though.”

“That’s okay,” you said. “Even if you did, it would only be for one year, and then we’d be graduating again. You should make the choice based on what’s right for you, not where Yayoi and I are.”

“What happens if you and Yayoi don’t go to high school together?” he said.

“Why are you already thinking about us going to high school? That’s so far away,” you said.

“I just wanna know,” he said. “Will you stop being friends with her?”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “I’d have no reason to. Besides, if that happens, we’ll already have been friends for over nine years. It’s hard to abandon someone you’ve known for that long. Why do you ask? Are you worried that you’ll lose your friends when you graduate? You shouldn’t be.”

“I don’t want you to stop being friends with Yayoi,” he said. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“You try to act all cool, but you’re actually a really caring little brother, you know,” you said. “It’s sweet of you to worry about her, but it’ll take a lot more than attending different schools to break us apart, and even if something like that happens, she’ll easily make more friends, so it’s no cause to stress.”

“That’s not—”

“L/N, hey!”

Whatever Tabito was going to say was cut off by the arrival of your fellow art club member, Aoyama. He grabbed you in a hug before you could react, squeezing you in a vice grip that was impossible to escape from. You patted him on the back awkwardly until he let you go, though his fingers remained on your upper arms and he stayed leaning close to you.

“Hey, Aoyama,” you said. “Congrats on graduating.”

“You, too,” he said. “Oh, who’s this?”

“Yayoi’s little brother,” you said. Aoyama squinted at Tabito before nodding.

“I can see it — there’s definitely a resemblance. Hi, little Karasu! I’m Aoyama. I’ve been in the same class as your older sister and L/N here for the past few years,” he said. The way he introduced himself made it seem as if the three of you were particularly close, but indeed, other than your weekly art club meetings, neither you nor Yayoi had interacted much with the boy in the past couple of years.

“Hi,” Tabito said stiffly.

“He’s two years younger than us,” you added, in an attempt to smooth over Tabito’s surliness.

“That’s it?” Aoyama said. “He looks so small.”

“I’m not small!” Tabito said, but considering how much shorter he was than you and Aoyama, it wasn’t that convincing. He must’ve realized this, as his face grew red and his shoulders dropped, his lips drawing into a childish pout.

“Maybe it runs in the family,” Aoyama said. “Yayoi’s pretty tiny, too.”

“Well, it was good to see you, Aoyama,” you said, sensing that the conversation might take a turn for the worse very soon. “We should probably get back to our families, so…”

“No problem! See you next year?” he said.

You had forgotten that Aoyama, too, would be attending the same junior high as you and Yayoi, along with a handful of your other classmates. Nodding slightly and placing a hand on Tabito’s shoulder to steer him towards Yayoi, you waved at Aoyama.

“See you next year! Let’s go, Tabito,” you said.

There was a sullen quality to the stomp of his feet, but until Aoyama was out of earshot, he did not say anything to explain it. The moment the boy was gone, though, Tabito was whirling to face you, looking up at you plaintively.

“Do you think I’m small?” he demanded. It seemed his pride, which he guarded so fiercely, had been wounded by Aoyama’s comment. Even if you found it silly, it wasn’t unreasonable when you thought about it, so you did not make fun of him.

“Of course, right now you are,” you said. “It’s only natural. Eventually, you’ll grow, and then you won’t be.”

“I’ll be super tall when I’m an adult,” he said. “Taller than that guy.”

“Aoyama?” you said.

“Whatever his name is,” he said. “I’ll be taller than him, and — and — and better at soccer, too!”

“He doesn’t play soccer, so you’re already better than him at it,” you said. “Even if he did, though, I bet you wouldn’t have to try to beat him. You’re really good.”

He grunted. “Thanks.”

Though he tried to disguise it, it was obvious that he was pleased by the compliment. There was a spring to his step and a sparkle to his eyes as you rejoined your families, and you knew that you had once again succeeded in cheering him up, as you often took it upon yourself to do.

During your next summer term break, Yayoi insisted on going to the pool with you. She had heard that the next unit in your Physical Education class was going to be swimming, so even though you had not been assigned the practice as a requirement, she wanted to take advantage of your natural aptitude at the activity and get some time in so that she wasn’t behind.

“What’s your secret?” she nagged you as you, she, and Tabito walked towards your junior high school’s main building. Because of the swimming club, the pool was left open year-round, and even outside of practices, members of the student body were allowed to utilize the pool for their own reasons. Tabito wasn’t a student, but since he was with you and Yayoi, there was a high likelihood that nobody would even notice; besides, hardly anyone ever used the pool at this hour, so all in all there wouldn’t be any issues.

“Secret to what?” you said.

“Being so good at swimming! I can’t believe you didn’t join the club,” she said.

“It’s just something I like doing for fun. If I had to do it for the school club, I’d probably end up hating it,” you said. “Anyways, I don’t know. There’s no secret to it. I just get in the water and do what the teachers tell us to.”

Even in elementary school, you had been given rudimentary swim lessons as a part of your Physical Education class, but middle school would take those lessons to a far more brutal extent, at least according to Yayoi’s sources from the badminton club. You weren’t worried, but whatever information she had heard from her upperclassmen had terrified her enough that she was convinced you needed to spend every spare minute you had in the water.

“That’s what I do, but it looks so much easier when you do it,” she said, scanning her student card and motioning for you and Tabito to follow her through the open door.

“I don’t know. Things always look easier when you’re watching another person do them,” you said. “I’m sure it’s just as hard for me as it is for you.”

“Maybe,” she said.

“Do you like swimming, Tabito?” you said, taking off your shirt and pants, adjusting the straps of your bathing suit, which had twisted on the way to the pool. He had remained oddly quiet the entire time that you and Yayoi had been talking, which was out of character, considering he had been the one to insist on coming with you two.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I haven’t done it much before, so I don’t know.”

“Tabito’s afraid of the water,” Yayoi said. “He always cries when we go to the beach.”

“I don’t! Stop making things up, Yayoi,” he said. She snickered, already halfway down the stairs leading to the shallow end, the water licking around her thighs as she flopped backwards into the pool. As you had predicted, there was no one else there, so you had the entire area to yourselves, allowing you to be less focused in your efforts. Yayoi floated down the lane on her back, not even bothering to kick, her dark hair fanning out in a curtain around her waist, looking akin to a pair of unfurled wings fluttering in the wind.

“You so do,” she said. “I don’t know why you begged to come with us. I bet you won’t even go in the water, you chicken.”

“I am not a chicken!” he snapped, trailing after you like a shadow as you made your way over to the deep end.

“You definitely are,” Yayoi said. “Chicken, chicken!”

“Come on, Yayoi, that’s enough,” you said, stretching your arms and preparing to dive in. “It’s okay. He doesn’t have to swim if he doesn’t want to. There’s nothing wrong with being afraid of the water, especially not given that he’s still in primary school.”

Tabito puffed his cheeks out. “I’m not scared of the water. Only babies are, and I’m not a baby. I’m gonna swim just like you.”

“How about we do it together, then?” you bargained. Although Yayoi liked to tease Tabito, she would not lie or make things up solely to bully him, which meant that he really was frightened of the water. And if that was the case, then it’d be foolish of you to leave him alone, especially if he couldn’t even swim, the way she had been hinting he could not.

“That sounds good,” he said. You took his hand in between yours, interlocking your fingers with his tightly, so there was no chance that he’d accidentally let go, and then you leapt into the pool, pulling him after you. He let out a shriek at the suddenness, but then you hit the water and he was cut off by the cold temperature and the tangy, burning taste of chlorine.

A rush of bubbles surrounded you, the coruscating clear-blue obscuring your vision, but even before they could burst away into nothingness, you were pushing off the pool floor, dragging Tabito behind you until you reached the surface and he could gasp for breath.

His legs wrapped around your waist as your own churned the water, treading it to keep the both of you afloat, and his fingers clawed at your shoulders, digging them into your skin hard enough to bruise. When he tucked his cheek to your pulse, you noticed that his breaths were coming in harsh, short pants, his entire frame trembling against yours.

“Tabito,” you said gently. “You’ll have to let go so I can swim to the shallow end.”

“I can’t,” he said. “If I let go, I’ll drown.”

“If you don’t let go, we’ll both drown,” you said. “I’m not strong enough to keep treading water forever, and I don’t think Yayoi could save us both if it came to it.”

You weren’t worried yet, but it was true that at some point, you’d get tired, and then you’d be in trouble. Yet you also knew you had to be soft, for it seemed his fear was far more paralyzing than you had anticipated, and if he began to genuinely panic, then he might accidentally drown you both.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his face hidden in the hollow of your collarbone. “I am scared.”

“I know,” you said, using one hand to stroke along his bony spine, the other swishing back and forth to assist your efforts in staying above the surface. “But sometimes, you still have to do things, even when you’re afraid.”

“I can’t do it, though,” he sniffed. “I can’t at all.”

“Is everything okay?” Yayoi shouted from the shallow end.

“It’s fine!” you called back, knowing that Tabito might rather drown than let her know of this weakness. “Tabito, listen, I’m not going to let you go. Even if you let go of me, I won’t do the same. Do you trust me when I say that?”

“Yes,” he said immediately.

“Then prove it and leave me,” you said.

Slowly, almost painstakingly, he removed his arms from around you and drew his legs back. For the briefest moment, he was floating by himself, but before he could begin to flail around out of fear, you grabbed his arm, taking him along beside you as you swam to the shallow end where Yayoi was waiting.

As soon as he was able to stand, Tabito sprinted out of the pool, splashing up the stairs, shivering as he made a beeline for where his towel was waiting. You and Yayoi watched as he flopped into one of the chairs, curling up and draping the towel over his shoulders.

“Well, I guess he spent more time in the water than I expected,” Yayoi allowed. “That was a surprise.”

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders, which had tightened from the burden you had carried along the length of the pool. “He’s braver than you give him credit for.”

“Maybe around you,” Yayoi said. “I think he just wants to impress you, since you’re older and cooler.”

“It could be,” you said. “Though I doubt it. He’s known me for too long to think of me as worthy of impressing. It’s probably just because I’m nicer to him than you.”

“That’s just because you don’t see him every day. Trust me, if you did, you’d be even meaner than me. I’m told I’m quite patient,” she said. You flicked water at her.

“Our resident saint, Yayoi Karasu,” you said. She flicked water back at you with a mock-scowl.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, and then it was an all out war as the two of you endeavored to soak the other, forgetting about anything more important than the newfound game and the happiness it brought you.

When it finally came time for Tabito to graduate elementary school, there was a sort of melancholy in the air, though by all rights it should’ve been an exciting time. You had been asked to come to the ceremony by Yayoi, though she had confessed that it had been her brother who had actually wanted you there but was too shy to ask directly, and almost as soon as you sat down, you were aware of that feeling settled over all of the Karasus, even Tabito himself, though he was so far away on the stage.

Perhaps for their parents and grandmother, it was because their youngest was at this milestone. Never again would they have a child in elementary school; now, both of the siblings were older, nearer to adulthood than anything, but you doubted that that fact was congruent with the images they held of them as helpless infants. Even for you, it was peculiar to see Tabito standing on that stage when you still at times thought of him as that four year old boy who played with trains, so you assumed the effect was tenfold for his parents and grandmother, who had raised him since birth.

You weren’t so sure that it was the same for Yayoi, who had a different sort of glumness about her. She was sad for another reason, and as the principal droned on about the class’s achievements, you leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“What’s got you down?” you said.

“I’m not down,” she muttered. She would’ve fooled any other person, but you were not any other person, so you only elbowed her in the side.

“Yayoi,” you said under your breath in a sing-song voice. “Are you sad about Tabito graduating?”

“Why would I be sad about that?” she said.

“You tell me,” you said.

“It’s just hard to wrap my head around,” she said. “I always complain about him following me around and bothering me, but it’s just hitting me now that he probably won’t do that very much anymore. He’s going to go to a different middle school and make friends and want nothing to do with me.”

“I don’t think he’d do that,” you reassured her. “He’ll be less annoying about it, but he won’t just abandon you, at least not before you do the same to him. He’s bad at letting go of things unless you force him to.”

“I’d never abandon him,” she said.

“It’s not that you’d abandon him, but just think about it. In four years we’ll be headed to university, and he’ll still be in high school. Isn’t that kind of like you leaving him first?” you said.

“I don’t want to think about that,” she said after a minute.

“I get it,” you said. “It’s weird for me as well. Not him, but what if you and I don’t go to the same high school or university? What will I do without you?”

The changing of the seasons was what weighed on Yayoi, and consequently, on you. Tabito’s graduation was a reminder that the years did not stop for anyone, that you were all growing older with every passing day, and that one day things would not be so simple, the way they were right now. Of course, that day was far away, but then again, there had been a time when the day that Tabito left primary school, too, had been far away, and yet here you were, arriving upon it so soon.

The end of the ceremony was familiar to you, but this time you were on the opposite side, standing amongst the parents as they waited for their children to join them. You stood on your tiptoes, peering over Mr. Karasu’s shoulder in an attempt to spot Tabito when he came out. There wasn’t anyone else in his class who you knew; you had gone solely for him, and so it was only he who you searched for, counting the heads until he appeared.

He was one of the last ones to come out, talking to a few of his friends, though they all peeled off in different directions as they grew closer to you. Finally, by the time he reached the area where you, his parents, grandmother, and Yayoi were waiting, he was by himself, his hands shoved in his pockets as he braced himself for your reactions.

“Come here, Tabito,” his grandmother said, embracing him as tightly as she could given her frail body. “You’ve worked so hard, my grandson. You deserve everything good that’s bound to come your way.”

“Thank you, grandmother,” he said. There was this one thing about him — no matter how he acted around his peers, no one could ever say that he disrespected his elders, which was not always the case with those his age.

“How do you feel? You’re officially a middle schooler now!” Mr. Karasu said once his grandmother had let him go.

“Good,” he said. He was obviously squirmy and embarrassed at everyone’s attention being focused on him, so his mother only kissed him atop the head before releasing him to speak with you and Yayoi.

“Good going, Tabito,” Yayoi said, offering him her hand. He shook it firmly, much more at ease now that it was just the three of you. It was so typical as to be normal, despite the less-than-ordinary circumstances of the meeting, so it was impossible for any of you to be awkward.

“Thanks, Yayoi,” he said. She scoffed, making a big show of wiping her hand against her pants, which Tabito only rolled his eyes at.

“Whatever. Don’t forget that I’m going to a better junior high school than you, okay?” she said.

“It’s not my fault that your school’s soccer club sucks!” he said. “I’d have gone there if I could’ve.”

“More like you couldn’t get in,” she said. “Because you’re super stupid. I can’t believe you even managed to graduate in the first place. In fact, I only even congratulated you because I was so surprised by that fact.”

“Stupid? You’re the stupid one!” Tabito said.

“Nuh-uh, you didn’t even understand long division until Y/N explained it to you!” Yayoi said.

“That’s the only thing I was ever confused by, and I understood it as soon as she told me how to!” he said.

“Well, that just means Y/N’s a good teacher. It has nothing to do with how smart you are,” she said. You laughed.

“To be sure, I’m a good teacher, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid. It’s his graduation, so we should be nice to him for today, don’t you think, Yayoi?” you said. She pouted.

“Just for today, I guess,” she said. “Fine. You’re not that stupid, Tabito.”

“You’re not that stupid, either,” he said. Coming from them, this was actually a stunning declaration of fraternal love, and you were taken aback that you had inspired it. However, upon further consideration, you supposed everyone was feeling sentimental by that point, so it wasn’t too hard to tease out.

“How far is your new school?” you asked him in an attempt to change the subject.

“Pretty far,” he said. “They have the best soccer club in the area, though, so it only makes sense for me to go there.”

“Are you going to have to try out?” you said.

“Of course. It’s not a guarantee I’ll get to play at all, especially in my first year, but just the fact that the chance is there is enough,” he said.

“That’s intense,” you said. You had stayed with the art club all throughout middle school, and though it was conducted with the same stringency as the sports clubs, there wasn’t as much of a competitive aspect to it. Anyone who wanted to join was allowed to, as long as they abided by the rules and regulations of the club, and such concepts as ‘trying-out’ were foreign to you outside of the stories Yayoi told you about her misadventures with badminton.

“It’s how it is in all sports clubs,” he said.

“True,” Yayoi said. “Remember my first year in the badminton club? It’ll be like that, only to a greater extent, since his school is known for soccer, so the club will be way more popular.”

“I don’t know how you guys do it. I could never; having to try out and possibly being denied the chance to do something I love would stress me out way too much,” you said. “But hey, Tabito, when you do get in — because I’m sure you will — invite us to your games so we can cheer you on, alright?”

“You’d really want to watch me?” he said.

“Why not?” you said. “I’m sure it’d be fun.”

“Eh,” Yayoi said. “Don’t be too sure. The games are kinda boring, to tell you the truth.”

“Nobody said you had to come!” Tabito said, crossing his arms and glaring at her.

“It’s not like I’d leave Y/N to suffer on her own just because she wants to be a supportive older-sister-figure. Obviously, I’d go,” she said.

“Aw, you’re the best, Yayoi,” you said.

“I try,” she said.

“Although, it’s kind of crazy that you’d go to support me but not him, when he’s the one actually related to you,” you pointed out.

“That’s because I like you more,” she said. “Not too crazy.”

“What happened to being nice to him on his graduation day?” you reminded her.

“Sorry,” she said automatically. “It had to be said, though.”

“Whatever,” Tabito said. “I don’t care if you’re there or not.”

“Wow, I see how it is,” she said.

“Just keep me posted,” you said. “As long as I’m not busy, I’ll go for sure.”

“I’ll tell you the moment I make the team. You’ll be the first person to know,” he said.

“Not even our parents?” Yayoi said.

“Obviously I wasn’t counting them!”

Either he was more talented than he let on, or more determined than the rest of his classmates, but regardless, mere months after the next school year began, you picked up a phone call that came from Yayoi’s phone but was made by another person entirely.

“Hello?” you said.

“Hello, Y/N? It’s Tabito. I’m using Yayoi’s phone to call you because I don’t have one of my own,” he said.

“Hi, Tabito. What’s up?” you said, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you filled out a worksheet for your science class.

“I made it onto the soccer team,” he said. The tone was casual, but there was energy brimming behind it, so you knew he was likely rocking back and forth on his heels in excitement.

“No way! As just a first year?” you said.

“Yeah, I’m the youngest member of the team. The others are all second and third years,” he said.

“That’s amazing! I knew you could do it,” you said.

“I was pretty nervous, but I just did the best I could at tryouts, and I guess they thought I fit in well with the team,” he said.

“Of course you do,” you said.

“So,” he said. “Our first game is in two weeks. On Saturday. Are you busy that day?”

“I don’t think so. I’m usually free on Saturdays, especially if I’m good about doing my homework on time,” you said.

“Will you come?” he said, spitting it out like it was something boiling and acidic on his tongue.

“To your game? Yeah, I already promised I would, didn’t I? Just send me the address and I’ll be there,” you said.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “See you later. And seriously, you should be proud of yourself. Getting into the club at your age is awesome.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll have Yayoi send you the address so you can meet her there. Um, but only if you want to.”

“I do want to,” you assured him. “Promise. Bye, Tabito.”

The day of the game was brisk and windy, almost like winter but not quite as punishing — the kind of weather where you could still just as easily grow too hot as too cold. All of the trees lining the street were bursting with colors other than the typical viridian, their leaves glimmering in the afternoon sunlight like ruby-studded crowns of gold which cascaded through the air with every passing breeze. There was a hint of loneliness in the piles of browning foliage littering the sidewalk, which meant that, in short, it was Tabito’s favorite kind of day. You hoped that it was a good omen for his first game.

Yayoi was waiting for you by the bottom of the bleachers, playing with the frayed ends of the pale blue scarf wrapped around her neck. She was wearing a cable-knit sweater, a pair of jeans that were loose around her ankles, and once-white shoes which had long ago been ruined by purple ink and too much free time.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said. She glanced up at you and then smiled slightly in greeting.

“No worries, you’re not late at all. I just came early because I walked with Tabito and he had to be here in time to warm up,” she said.

“If you get here so early every time, then I can see why you get bored of watching his games,” you said.

“I guess maybe that’s on me,” she allowed. “Where do you want to sit? If we’re closer to the field, we can see better, but there’s a greater chance we’ll get hit by a stray ball.”

“How about three rows back? That should be enough of a buffer that we don’t get hurt, but we’ll be able to see everything that happens,” you said.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said.

The metal benches were icy when you first sat on them, and you pulled your cardigan tighter around you to ward away the chill which seeped through your entire body from the point of contact. Yayoi, who was nearly as observant as her brother, offered you her scarf when she noticed, but you shook your head in a silent rejection.

The two of you talked about random, mindless things while you waited for the game to begin — how your classes were going, the latest gossip at your school, which high schools you were planning to apply for, and other such topics. They were the same subjects you went over every time you hung out, and for a moment you forgot that you had another purpose for meeting beyond just enjoying one another’s company.

Then the referee blew the whistle, effectively cutting off your conversation and bringing the impending game back to your collective attention. The gathered spectators, who were mostly parents and other students that attended Tabito’s junior high school, broke into applause as the teams took the field for the kickoff. You did the same, though both you and Yayoi made sure to applaud extra hard when Tabito jogged up with the others.

“Do you know what position he plays?” you said.

“Back in elementary school, he was the striker, but I doubt they’d give that role to a first year,” she said. “He’ll have to work up to it, I’m sure. He’s probably in the midfield for now.”

“I don’t really know what that means,” you admittedly sheepishly.

“I guess you could think of midfielders as the in-between men? Before, he was on pure offense, so his job was to stay up and score whenever possible, and then of course there’s players who prefer to be on defense, which means they aim to stop the opposite team from making goals. Midfielders have to be fluid, though, since they’re responsible for the middle portion of the field — ah, hence the name. Depending on who has the ball, they have to either go on offense or stay back on defense, which means they need to be equally as skilled at both,” she said.

“But then why would they put an inexperienced player in such a spot?” you said.

“It’s a pretty forgiving position, surprisingly. If you mess up as a midfielder, you have a buffer of offensive and defensive players on either side of you, so it’s likely that someone will be able to recover for the error, but if you’re up on top at offense or near the goal on defense, then there’s no one beyond you, so mistakes are more costly,” she explained.

“I get it now,” you said. “Sorry if that was a dumb thing to be asking so many questions about.”

“Not at all,” she said. “It can be confusing, especially when you don’t know much about the game. You should ask Tabito to explain everything to you if you plan on becoming a soccer fan; he can go on and on about it. My knowledge is pretty surface level and also entirely dependent on whatever he’s told me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said.

“Ooh, look, they’re starting!” Yayoi said, pointing at the field, where indeed the game had exploded into action, players darting back and forth, shoving one another aside as they reached for the ball. As she had predicted, Tabito stayed towards the middle of the field, surveying the players fighting over the ball, and though he wasn’t anywhere near the thick of things, you found yourself far more interested in him than the others.

What did he see when he was on the field? It was something you’d never really get to understand. What was it like in the heat of a match, where every single movement was the difference between win or lose — in essence, between life or death? You wondered what kind of person he became when he played soccer, if it was the sort of experience that changed one’s character or if you were just ascribing fantastical aspects to it because you couldn’t live through it yourself.

The game went on at a breakneck speed, and frequently, by the time you asked Yayoi what was happening, the play had ended and a new strategy had already been implemented. It was difficult to keep up with but no less exciting for your lack of comprehension, and at least it was easy to keep track of the score, for the goals needed no explanation.

By the time that the second half was all but over, the score was tied. You thought about asking Yayoi what’d happen if it ended like that, but based on the way she was leaning forward in her seat and biting her nails, you doubted it was anything good.

Entirely by chance or perhaps by choice, the ball rolled to a stop at Tabito’s feet. For the entire game, he had been flitting around the action, never cutting in despite how he must’ve ached to, and now he was being given a chance to prove himself, a chance to change the course of the match entirely. Your heart pounded, though nowhere near as fiercely as his own must’ve, and somehow your hand sought out Yayoi’s, the racing pulse in your wrist crushing against hers, which was equally as quick.

In the moment that the side of Tabito’s foot brushed against the ball, there was a rebirth which occurred. He came alive in an instant, like a hawk which had finally swooped upon its prey, talons digging into a tender neck and rending through the soft flesh, wings spreading in an ominous shadow over the unassuming creature that he was bound to devour.

The other team did not stand a chance. He cut through them in a way that almost felt mocking, slamming his hands against their chests to push them away, keeping them at an arm’s length as he flew past, his eyes constantly scanning the area around him, trusting his feet to take care of the ball, which stayed by him with the loyalty of a hound. It was a terrible and yet beautiful thing to take in, the cruelty of his play-style; you could not reconcile it with the sweet boy you knew, yet neither could you tear your eyes away from that sly, vicious force as it darkened the field.

His goal was punctuated with the whistle of the game’s end. For a moment, he stood there alone, staring at the ball rolling out of the net, sending up sprays of turf when it bounced against the ground, and then he was tackled by his teammates, all of whom were shouting praises as they piled atop him.

“I can’t believe he scored the winning goal!” Yayoi said, tugging you to your feet. “Come on, let’s go congratulate him!”

“Are we allowed to?” you said.

“Mm, not if this was an actual game, but considering it was just a practice match between two middle schools, no one will care,” she said, vaulting over the short fence separating the field from the seating area and helping you do the same.

“If you say so,” you said.

All of the players were congregated by their coach, who was delivering an inspirational speech about their teamwork and how wonderful they were, so you and Yayoi hung back until they were dismissed. After that, you snuck up on Tabito, who was taking off his cleats, and Yayoi thumped him on the back.

“Boo!” she said. He squealed, and it was a high-pitched, girlish sound which had Yayoi cackling with laughter as she squished his cheeks together in one hand.

“Yayoi!” he said, though his voice was muffled, his mouth resembling a fish’s. “Let go of me!”

“I can’t bear to! My baby brother, the hero of the match,” Yayoi said. “It’s unbelievable. As exciting as if I was the one to score the winning goal.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t,” he said, using his shoulder to get her off of him so he could tie the laces of his sneakers.

“Wow, way to take away from my fun,” she said. “And here I was, trying to be proud of you.”

“Whatever,” he said. “What did you think, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, two of Tabito’s older teammates, one of whom was wearing a captain’s armband, appeared behind him. They were probably your age, towering over little Tabito, with handsome faces and the beginnings of sleek muscles swelling in their arms and legs.

“Hi,” the captain said to you. “You’re super pretty.”

You had never been approached so boldly, and certainly not by anyone so good-looking. Your cheeks warmed, and you fought back a smile.

“Hi,” you said. “Thanks. You played really well.”

You couldn’t quite remember how he had played, actually, for you had spent most of the game looking at Tabito, but you assumed it wouldn’t hurt for you to compliment him back, and mentioning the game was a safe enough way to do so. He seemed to appreciate it, laughing loudly, though you hadn’t said anything particularly funny.

“I’m glad you thought so!” he said. “We tried out a new strategy, and we weren’t sure it’d work, but thanks to Tabito here, it ended up for the best.”

“That’s great,” you said, directing your words to both of them, though the other teammate, who seemed to be less outgoing than his captain, was too busy staring at Yayoi to notice.

“How d’you know this shrimp, anyways?” the captain said, throwing an arm around the disgruntled Tabito’s shoulders. Tabito’s expression, which had already soured with the captain’s arrival, only warped more at the friendly display, his lip curling like he had tasted spoiled milk.

“He’s my little brother, and she’s my best friend,” Yayoi offered, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“We came to support him at his first game!” you said. “He’s been super excited about getting the chance to play, so there was no way we couldn’t come.”

“As far as first years go, he’s definitely one of the best. I’m confident he’ll be taking my spot once he’s old enough for it,” the captain said. “I can’t name a single kid his age who’s as talented or hardworking.”

“He gets it from his older sister,” Yayoi joked. The captain grinned at her.

“I’m sure he does,” he said. “Look, I’m going to be plain with you: my friend and I were wondering if we could get your numbers and maybe—”

“We have to go now,” Tabito said, cutting off the captain, who gave him a surprised look. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he crossed his arms at you and Yayoi. “My mom will get mad at us if we’re late.”

“No, she won’t,” Yayoi said, furrowing her brow. “Since when has she cared about how late we are getting home?”

“Yes, she will!” he insisted. “She told me before we left that we have to be back before sunset or else we’ll be in big trouble.”

The captain raised his hands in the air. “No worries. Come to another game and we can catch up then, alright? There’s no point in risking getting in trouble.”

“Sure, that sounds cool,” you said.

“Nice meeting you,” he said.

“Yeah, nice meeting you,” the other teammate echoed, speaking for the first time, his face immediately turning bright red when Yayoi glanced at him.

“See you around,” she said. You thought that you heard the boy squeak, but you couldn’t quite tell. “Alright, Tabito, let’s go, then. Since apparently we’ll be in such big trouble if we’re not on time. Whatever that means.”

She didn’t roll her eyes, but it was implied in the rise and fall of her voice. Tabito ignored her, trotting off towards the exit, forcing you both to follow after him without further delay.

Once you were all on the road towards the Karasu household, Yayoi pulled out her phone, holding it out to her younger brother threateningly.

“I’m going to call mom, and if it turns out you were lying, I’m — I’m — I’m going to be really upset! You made us miss out on a chance to get dates, so if you were just making stuff up, then I’ll kill you for sure!” she said, speeding ahead of you so she could talk uninterrupted. Tabito shifted closer to you, a small frown on his face, not bothering to respond to Yayoi’s threat. You waited for him to say something; he confided in you often, expressing things to you which he dared not discuss with his sister, and you did not doubt that he would take advantage of the moment of solitude to speak his mind to you.

“You didn’t tell me,” he said after a moment of walking at your side.

“Tell you what?” you said.

“What you thought,” he said. “You told the captain he played well, but what about me?”

“I assumed it would be a given,” you said. “Of course, naturally I thought you were wonderful, Tabito. You were the best player out there.”

“Better than the captain?” he said. You beckoned him closer, cupping your hands around his ear.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you whispered. He nodded eagerly. “I don’t really know how the captain played. I just said that he was good to be nice to him, as he was nice to me, but the truth is that even when you didn’t have the ball, I couldn’t help but watch you the entire time.”

“Really?” he said.

“Really,” you said, nodding at him quite seriously. “I came to support you, didn’t I? Why would I bother with the other players?”

Any traces of his earlier vexation vanished in an instant. As you had suspected, he had been upset that you and Yayoi had ignored him in favor of the charming older players when he had been the one to invite you in the first place. Thankfully, he was easy to read and easier to placate, and anyways he never held grudges for very long, so he quickly cheered as if he had never been angry at all.

“Y/N, can I ask you one more thing before Yayoi comes back?” he said, looking over at his sister, who was speaking quite furiously to who you could only imagine was their mother.

“You can always ask me anything,” you said. “Go ahead.”

“Your phone number,” he said.

“What about it?” you said, puzzled. He avoided your eyes, kicking apart a pile of leaves and gazing at them as they plumed into the air.

“I want it,” he said. You gave him an amused look.

“You don’t even have a phone, Tabito. What would you do with my number?” you said.

“I’ll remember it,” he said, picking up a leaf and tearing it apart into many small pieces.

“Is that so?” you said. It was a ridiculous request, and you doubted he’d be able to follow through on that kind of promise, but you figured there was no harm in telling him. So you listed off the digits of your phone number, slowly and carefully, as he nodded along and told you he really would never forget them.

“Tabito!” Yayoi shrieked, sprinting towards you two at full pace. Tabito yelped and hid behind you as his sister, who was hardly ever so intimidating, came closer and closer, her countenance dark and a malevolent aura rolling off of her in waves. “Explain yourself, punk! Why’d mom tell me she said nothing like the crap you were spouting earlier? What’s the big idea, huh?”

“Oh, it’s alright, Yayoi,” you said. “I’m sure it was weird for him to watch his own teammates flirting with his older sister and her friend. That has to be some kind of murky territory or something. What if it didn’t work out and then they bullied him because of that? I don’t blame him for trying to get out of the situation.”

She huffed. “You’re lucky Y/N’s here. One day she won’t be there to defend you, and then you’ll really be sorry!”

Tabito stood on his tiptoes to peek over your shoulder and stuck his tongue out at her. Scowling, she returned the gesture in kind, blowing a raspberry at him before grabbing your hand and yanking you away with her.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s leave this loser to walk by himself.”

You chuckled and freed your hand from her grasp, which was a Herculean feat given that she had a grip made of iron, and then you looped your arm through her own.

“Alright, Yayoi,” you said. “Let’s do that.”

Later that night, as you wrapped up the last of your homework for the weekend, your cell phone lit up with an incoming call. Setting down your pencil, you picked up the phone and saw it was from the Karasus’ home phone — which was odd, because ever since Yayoi had gotten a cellphone of her own, she had called you from that, so it had been quite some time since you had seen that particular contact pop up.

“Hi, Yayoi,” you said. “Did your phone die or something?”

There was a pause. Then: “This isn’t Yayoi. It’s Tabito. I told you I’d remember your number.”

“Tabito?” you said. “Well, good job with that.”

“I wrote it down as soon as I got home,” he said. “Once I get my own phone, I’ll make you my first contact.”

“Me? Not your parents or Yayoi? Or one of your other friends from school?” you said, snickering. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I want it to be you.”

“I appreciate it,” you said. Maybe in some way, your friendship with Yayoi had transferred to him; after all, you had been the first number she inputted once she got a new phone, and you were also the first person she gave her personal number to, so maybe that kind of tradition had stayed with him and, in a typical sibling manner, became something he wanted to replicate. “You do that, then. And you can text me directly when you have games so I can come to them.”

“Actually, I also wanted to tell you that you don’t have to watch any more games where I’m not doing anything. When I’m in high school and I’m the captain of a really good team, then you can come,” he said.

“I don’t mind if you’re not doing much. The game today was fun. I got to hang out with Yayoi and meet your teammates,” you said.

“I don’t want you there anymore, so don’t come!” he said.

“Goodness. I won’t, then,” you said. “But that means you really have to work hard, because even if you invite me, I’ll only attend if you’re the captain of the team.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ll be a way better captain than the one I have right now.”

“Sure,” you said.

“Okay,” he said. “Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye,” you said, hanging up, finding a great humor in his competitive mindset, which even reared its head against his own captain, who he was meant to respect above all else.

Somehow, by chance or by fate, both you and Yayoi had the same top high school, and furthermore, you both received offers of admission despite how selective it was. The only other person from your middle school who was accepted was Aoyama, which you only knew because he told you one day during art club.

Both his artistic skills and his appearance had improved markedly since the two of you had first met; though he had never managed to master calligraphy or watercolor painting, he had discovered a talent for making scenes come alive with the use of a simple pencil. It was admirable, that with solely shades of gray he was able elicit images of color, and as he had grown older, he had also mellowed into someone you did not mind speaking to, so when you discovered that he was going to high school with you and Yayoi, you were surprised to find that you were actually a little happy about that fact.

Despite his obvious aptitude for sports — he was tall and sturdily built, with long limbs and a wide torso — he had denied every athletic club which attempted to recruit him, staying loyal to the art club despite how hard he had to work at keeping up with the rest of you. And because you and he had been in the same club for years upon years and the same school for longer, you supposed that it was inevitable for some kind of relationship to blossom between the two of you, which was why it was all but a foregone conclusion when he asked you out, the winter of your first year of high school.

It wasn’t the most romantic proposal. In fact, it was rushed and harried and fumbling, altogether messy and unplanned, but endearing in a way. You had been walking home from an art club meeting when you passed by the park where he had had a birthday party, so many years ago, and then he was pulling you over to the slides and sitting you down at the foot of one. You were motionless as he paced back and forth, trying to muster up the courage and the words to say to you, and then finally he just spat it out, all in a jumble. Will you go out with me?

You saw no reason to say no, so you said yes. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, and his lips were cold like the weather, but you did not complain, because he could not help it. And then he sprinted off and left you sitting there, at the edge of the red plastic slide in that desolate playground, the wind pushing the empty swings the way you had once pushed Tabito.

Aoyama was a fine boyfriend, or at least you thought he was; you had no experience with any others, so of course you could not say for certain, but in your opinion, he did as well of a job as he could be expected to. He held your hand when you walked together and took you on dates and kissed you in private — never in public, though, because you hated the idea, even if he would’ve liked to very much.

“I don’t get what your problem is,” you said, pressing a button on your controller to send a red shell flying. It connected with Yayoi’s character, and your own avatar, Princess Daisy, pumped her fist in celebration as you shot past the dismayed Rosalina.

“Don’t have one,” she said, shaking her remote in a futile effort to reawaken Rosalina. The character remained stunned for a second more before rejoining the race.

“Every time I bring up Aoyama, you stop talking and get all standoffish,” you said. “You obviously do have a problem. Is it because I keep talking about my boyfriend? I’m sorry if I’ve been doing that. I don’t want to be one of those people.”

“You don’t talk about him a ton,” she said, using a power up to speed through a shortcut, ramming your character out of the way to snag first place at the last minute.

“Okay, but something about him annoys you. What is it? I can’t fix a problem if I don’t even know it exists,” you said.

There was a set of thudding footsteps, and then Tabito, freshly showered from a game, peeked his head into the living room, batting his eyelashes at you in an attempt to seem sweet and innocent.

“Are you guys playing Mario Kart?” he said.

“What’s it to you?” Yayoi said.

“I want to, too,” he said. “Can I?”

“We were kind of talking about something,” you said. You weren’t sure if Yayoi would discuss the subject in front of her little brother, but it had been bothering you for long enough that you wanted to get things out in the open once and for all.

“It’s fine,” Yayoi said. “You can play with us. Just don’t be a pain.”

This was an absolute role reversal, and Tabito must’ve picked up on that, but he did not mention it, only plodding over to the TV and connecting his own set of controllers before settling on the floor in front of you, leaning back on your legs instead of attempting to squish between his sister and the armrest of the small couch.

“Are you seriously going to be Waluigi again?” you asked him with some disdain, wrinkling your nose as he selected his typical character.

“He’s my favorite,” he said.

“Gross,” you said. “But back to the original topic, Yayoi, don’t think you’re getting out of things just because Tabito’s here. You still have to explain what’s up.”

“Did something happen?” Tabito said as you selected a cup at random and the first race began.

“No,” Yayoi said.

“Yes,” you said, at exactly the same time.

“…Okay, then,” Tabito said.

“It’s about Aoyama,” Yayoi said. “Her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” he said.

“It feels like Yayoi has some issues with him, but she won’t tell me what those issues are, exactly,” you said.

“Is he a bad boyfriend?” Tabito said.

“I don’t think so,” you said. “No, he’s perfectly alright.”

“Look, I don’t have anything against Aoyama. I liked him, all of the way back in first grade, so obviously I don’t have a problem with him,” she said.

“Is that it?” you said. “I didn’t even realize you had a crush on him at all.”

“No, why would I care about a crush from when I was so young? To be honest, I just don’t think he deserves you,” she said.

“Why not?” you said.

“That’s my duty as your best friend,” she said. “To me, you’re the most amazing person ever, so how could someone like Aoyama ever be worthy of dating you? Besides, it doesn’t seem like you like him very much.”

“What are you talking about? Obviously, I like him, or I wouldn’t be going out with him,” you said.

“You should break up with him if you don’t like him,” Tabito suggested.

“I do like him, and I’m not breaking up with him,” you said. “Yayoi, why would you say something like that?”

“Dunno,” she said. “Forget about it. Maybe I was just seeing things. If you say that you like him, then you definitely do.”

“Right,” you said.

“What’s so great about him, anyways?” Tabito said, shifting so that he could be more comfortable. “For you to want to date him. Why do you like him? Does he even do anything of note?”

You snorted. “Not everyone’s a soccer ace like you, Tabito. Aoyama could’ve been an athlete, but he’s stayed in the art club with me since elementary school. That’s a long time; it would’ve been impossible for me not to grow fond of him over the years, and by the time he worked up the nerve to ask me out officially, I suppose I was fond enough to say yes.”

“That’s stupid,” Tabito said. For emphasis, he released a blue shell, which hit you right before you crossed the finish line. “Anyone could join the art club, and you’ve known other people longer than you’ve known him. That’s not enough of a reason to date somebody.”

“Rude,” you said, kneeing him in the head playfully, for you had come in fourth due to his intervention. “You know, you don’t really need a reason to date someone. You can date them just because. Maybe it’s true that hanging out with you two is more fun than being with Aoyama, but isn’t it normal to get along better with your friends? And especially when the relationship is so fresh. We’re still getting to know one another right now.”

“That’s fair,” Yayoi said. “Don’t expect me to be outright hospitable with him or anything, but for your sake, I’ll be polite. As long as he knows that I’ll make sure he regrets hurting you, if ever he does.”

“I’ll pass the message along,” you said.

“And you have to like me — us more,” Tabito added. “You’ve known us longer, so you have to like us better.”

“I’ll always like you better,” you said, reaching down to pinch his cheek. Already, his face was losing that round quality from his youth; you expected it’d be entirely gone soon, and you mourned the imminent loss of his doll-like appearance, vowing to adore it for as long as it remained.

Surprisingly, he did not slap your hand away. He only hummed in pleased agreement, and that was that. The conversation was finished, and it was the last any of you spoke about the matter for quite some time.

High school flew by faster than you had anticipated, certainly far faster than middle school had, though they were the exact same length. You divided your time between your club activities, studying for exams, hanging out with Yayoi as well as your other friends, and going on dates with Aoyama, so you hardly had a moment in which you could be bored. You almost missed the feeling of lethargy and inertia you had at least experienced once or twice in junior high, but yet you could not bear to give any of those aspects of your life up, so you managed the demanding schedule as best as you could and somehow made it work.

As he had attended a different middle school than you and Yayoi, so, too, did Tabito attend a separate high school. He chose it because their soccer club was well-known, but when he was in his first year, he was scouted to join the youth team of the prestigious J1 League football club Bambi Osaka, so it ended up mattering little. When he had reached such a point, why would he concern himself with school soccer clubs? There was no higher peak that he could reach with them than the one he already had achieved, especially not at his age.

It was rare for someone so young to consistently give such excellent performances. After all, he had been chosen as a starter for his junior high team as only a first year, albeit as a midfielder instead of his preferred position as a striker, and now, at the beginning of his high school career, he had already been selected to play for Bambi Osaka. Even Yayoi had to admit that her little brother had something to him — she claimed it to be an intrinsic talent, for that meant she had a chance at inheriting it as well, but Tabito was far more modest than she and always countered these declarations, arguing that it was nothing more than constant practice.

“Don’t tell anyone this, but I’m not that good,” he told you one day, when you were watching one of Yayoi’s badminton matches together. You were sitting on his black camping chair; he had offered to you and sat on the ground instead of making you do so, though you had never complained about it.

“There’s no way you’re not,” you said. “Ask anyone, and they’ll agree with me.”

“It’s true,” he said, shrugging like it was a fact he had accepted long ago and which consequently did not bother him anymore. “Some people are handed everything, but I’m not like that. I’m not a prodigy in any sense of the word. It’s easy to seem talented when you only pick on a person’s weak spots.”

You rested your hand on his shoulder. He was taller now, and growing more by the day, so you no longer had to lean down very far to do so, though he was on the ground and you were not. Exhaling through his nose, he bent his neck so his cheek could rest on your fingers, which were perpetually cold and must’ve felt nice in the summery heat of the midafternoon.

“If you seem like you’re talented, then you really must be,” you said. “I don’t think faking things like that is as simple as you believe it to be.”

“It’s simpler than you think,” he said. “Anyways, please don’t bring it up again. I just wanted one person to know the truth of who I am.”

“And it had to be me?” you said. You couldn’t see him smile, but you felt his cheeks grow fuller as his mouth curved into the wry smirk he donned more often than not nowadays.

“Of course, it had to be you,” he affirmed. “Who else would it be?”

Who, indeed? In some ways, you were as close with her little brother as you were with Yayoi herself, though it was a different kind of relationship there. As an only child, you supposed that all-consuming affection must’ve been what one felt for a younger sibling, so you put it down to that. After all, you had known Tabito for long enough that he could probably be considered your brother as well as Yayoi’s, so what else would it be? And the way he treated you was how he would’ve treated Yayoi if she were gentler with him, so although it was definitely preferential, you never saw anything wrong with it nor felt any need to correct his loving behavior.

The end of entrance exams, which was the culmination of the many months of hellish work that you had all put in, came with bittersweet news. For the first time, you, Yayoi, and Aoyama would split ways, each of you accepted to different universities. Those two, whose steady presences at your side you took all but for granted, had paths which diverged from yours, and you wondered if ever they would converge again.

Your path took you to Tokyo, to the exact university that your parents had met at. They wept when they found out, for though they loved where they were now, their hearts still beat for the bustling city where they had spent so much of their lives.

Your only consolation was that Yayoi, too, was going to the capital city. She would attend a different school, and thus would live in a different part of the megalopolis than you would, so the distance between you would not be small, exactly, but at least it was manageable. At least your paths would not be so separate. The same could not be said for Aoyama, who was going to Kyoto for university. You would be hours apart, and as the date of your graduation grew ever nearer, this took a toll on your relationship.

The ceremony itself was beautiful, exactly the kind of celebration that was shown in movies. The choir sang your school’s anthem and the president of the school board personally handed you each your diplomas; everyone was dressed in their best clothes, and the click-clack of heels against wood echoed around the hall as students and parents alike bustled about, congratulating one another and wiping away tears at another milestone crossed.

As always, as ever, your parents were sitting with the Karasus. You knew because you sought them out when it was your turn to receive your diploma. At first, they were impossible to find in the crowd, but then, like a miracle, you saw Tabito in the back, towards the left entrance, his pensive expression vanishing the moment he realized you were looking at him. Just as he had when you had graduated elementary school, he grinned at you, and then he waved, but unlike back then, he wasn’t at all shy about it. Also unlike then, you beamed at him with no care for propriety, cameras flashing in your eyes as you clutched your diploma in front of you with one hand and used the other to wave enthusiastically back.

“What a sweet photo,” your father said when all of you rendezvoused after the official ceremony, showing you his phone. The picture was of you on stage, your face radiant with delight, your arm raised mid-wave, the gold lettering on your diploma legible thanks to the power of the zoom on his camera. “You’re so beautiful, dear. I can’t believe you’re so grown up already.”

“She’ll always be our baby,” your mother said, not even attempting to disguise the tears wetting the shadows under her eyes.

“Can we get a picture with our two graduates?” Mrs. Karasu said.

“That’s a great idea,” your father said. “It’s so special that the two of you started school together, and now you’ve graduated side by side.”

“It only happens in the movies,” Mr. Karasu said, taking a pack of tissues out of his pocket and blowing his nose with a great honk. “And yet we have an example right here in front of us. Go on, girls, get together.”

You and Yayoi did not need to be told twice, pressing your shoulders together, so close that they rose and fell in tandem. You fancied that if one was to listen to your heartbeats at that moment, they would’ve been keeping the same rhythm, for you had lived more of your lives together than not, and so even your most basic systems were familiar with one another.

“How about one of Yayoi and Tabito?” Mr. Karasu said. “Let the L/Ns take a couple with Y/N, too.”

Your parents took turns posing with you and taking photos before your father flagged down a random classmate of yours, entreating the confused boy to take a picture of the three of you together. You could already envision exactly where they were going to hang that particular shot — in the living room, framed by something gaudy and likely near the vase of false, ever-blooming flowers your mother kept on one of the tables.

The Karasus were still taking family photos, for there were quite a few more of them than there were of you, so you decided to take the moment to look for Aoyama, who had been separated from you and Yayoi in the rush of people leaving the ceremony hall. It would be nice to take a picture or two with him, too, after all.

It was not hard to find him, not given how tall he was — in the crowd, there were few who were taller, and of those few, only the lanky Tabito was one you recognized. His mother greeted you exuberantly; she had always loved you, perhaps even more than her son did, and she immediately pushed the two of you together so that she could take a million photographs which she promised she would send to you at the earliest possible convenience.

“Do you ever think that this might be the last time we’re like this?” Aoyama said, his hand resting on your hip, a politician’s grin on his square face. You hummed in agreement.

“It is the last time we’ll be like this,” you said. “You’ll be off to Kyoto soon, and I’ll go to Tokyo sooner.”

“That’s true,” he said. “We should savor it, then. While we can.”

You knew what he was hinting at, but now was not the time to consider it. Now, you were meant to be happy, so you mirrored that smile of his and posed with him as if nothing was wrong, unsure of whether, in two weeks’ time, you’d be able to look at those particular photos at all.

At some point while you were you were with Aoyama, Tabito appeared, his arms crossed over his chest. He stood a respectful distance away from Aoyama’s mother, and it was only when you stepped away from your boyfriend and left him to his family that he hesitantly approached you.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, yourself,” you said. “How’d you manage to find me? There’s so much going on.”

“You’re pretty hard to miss,” he said. You weren’t sure what he meant by that, but he didn’t bother with explaining himself. “You’re probably all photographed-out, but if you don’t mind…can we also take one? I don’t want you to forget that I came, too.”

“You only came for Yayoi,” you teased him. “It’ll hurt my feelings less if I don’t remember you were here at all.”

“I came for you, too!” he said earnestly, showing you both of his hands to prove he wasn’t crossing his fingers behind his back. “Really, I did.”

“So you would’ve come even if Yayoi wasn’t graduating, too?” you said.

“If you invited me, I would’ve,” he said. “I’d even skip soccer practice for it.”

“Wow, you hold me in higher regard than soccer practice? I feel like you’ve bestowed some great honor upon me,” you said. “That’s worthy of a picture, I’d say.”

You handed your phone to a nearby classmate of yours, a pretty girl who you had sat by in your Maths class. She understood quickly what you were asking of her, accepting the phone and waiting for you to get in position.

“Say, L/N, I thought you were dating Aoyama?” she said as Tabito wrapped an arm around your waist and you leaned against his side.

“I am?” you said, confused at why she had brought it up. She furrowed her brow, taking a couple of photos before giving you your phone back to ensure you approved of them.

“Who’s this, then?” she said, nodding towards Tabito. “He’s awfully cute.”

“Huh? Oh, he’s just Yayoi’s brother, it’s not like that!” you said. “But he is so cute, isn’t he? He reminds me of a baby version of Yayoi. It makes me nostalgic sometimes.”

“Yayoi…ah, Karasu! I had Modern Literature with her,” she said, snapping her fingers in recognition. “Wow. I didn’t realize she had a brother. Sorry for making a weird assumption about the two of you! I guess you’ve known one another for a while, so it makes sense that you’d be close.”

“Exactly,” you said, confused about how she had even arrived at such a conclusion in the first place when there was nothing between the two of you to hint at a relationship that was anything but platonic or familial. “Hey, thanks so much! These are awesome.”

“Anytime!” she said. “So, Karasu’s little brother. How old are you, exactly?”

“Um…” Tabito glanced over at you for help, creeping imperceptibly closer as if you were some last line of defense between him and the curious girl.

“He just finished his first year,” you said, taking pity on him and answering. The girl wrinkled her nose.

“So you’re barely a second year? Ah, that’s a bit young for me at the moment. Maybe in a little while, yeah? Call me once you’re in college and then we can talk,” she said, winking at him and fluttering her fingers in a wave before vanishing in the crowd.

You tried very hard not to laugh, but when you turned and saw Tabito’s bewildered expression, you could not help it. When he realized you were laughing at him, he turned a vermillion shade that only he was capable of becoming.

“I’m — I’m sorry she said that. I wouldn’t have agreed with her if I knew she was calling you cute in that way,” you gasped out. “Oh, my poor Tabito. I really didn’t expect that at all, or I would’ve asked Aoyama to stay and take our photos instead.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’d like it — um, I’d like it better if you thought of me as cute like that instead of like a baby.”

“But you are a baby,” you cooed.

“I am not!” he said. It was another rendition of the same argument you both had had in the past, and though calling this particular example an argument was certainly a stretch, you did not want to sully the night with even a joking disagreement. So instead of refuting his childish rebuttal, you embraced him tightly.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” you said. “You know I have no siblings of my own, but unlike most with that affliction, I am lucky enough to have met Yayoi, and through her gained a brother of my own.”

He shoved you off of him with a grumble. “I’m not your brother, either.”

“Alright,” you said, raising your hands in the air. “You’re not a baby, and you’re not my brother. Anything else?”

“No,” he said. “Let’s go back to our families. Your parents were looking for you. I think they all want to get dinner together.”

“Lead the way, then,” you said. “I call sitting next to you.”

He glanced at you shyly. “Okay. I don’t think you’ll have much competition there, though, so you don’t have to call it.”

“I just want to be certain. These are the final few weeks I’ll get to see you, aren’t they? I’ll miss you while I’m gone, so I have to stick to you like glue for as long as we have left,” you said, throwing a companionable arm around his shoulders for emphasis.

“Yes,” he said, bending his elbow so he could intertwine his fingers with yours, which dangled loosely by his collarbone. “Stick to me. Until the day you have to leave for good, stay by my side.”

The month in between graduation and the beginning of university was a whirlwind of receiving congratulations from random relatives, packing to move into your new apartment, and visiting your friends from high school, who you might not see for many months or perhaps ever again, now that you were all going in your separate directions.

More than anywhere else, you spent your hours at the Karasu residence. You never did anything particularly special, and neither did you bring up the ever-nearing date of yours and Yayoi’s departures; when the three of you were together — for Tabito insisted on accompanying you no matter how much Yayoi protested — you pretended like it was a normal break, like at the beginning of April you’d all once again return to your respective high schools and things would be exactly as they always had been.

You’d go to your favorite restaurants or run to ice cream shops late at night, laughing and teasing another as you licked at your cones and wandered around the streets. Sometimes you’d all go to the playground and pretend like you were children, sliding down slides that were only twice the length of your bodies and climbing across monkey bars with your feet brushing against the mulch. You’d sit on the swings and make Tabito push you as payback for the many times you had done so for him when he was younger, though he never viewed it as a punishment, and Yayoi would build castles in the sandpit, the grains digging into her skin and standing out in bright red patterns against her pale knees. Other days, if it was raining or any of you were particularly tired, you’d play video games, Tabito laying against your legs as he always did and Yayoi perched on the armrest like a gargoyle.

It was simple and wonderful and easy, but the same could not be said for your relationship with Aoyama. There was a tension between you both which had never been there before, and though he had claimed at graduation that he wanted to savor the last few weeks of your time together, you found yourself thinking more and more frequently that you wished you had ended things when you were still happy with one another.

You fought with him about random things, so irritable were you with one another. He accused you of spending all of your time with Yayoi, even though you’d be so close to her once the next year began, and ignoring him completely. You bit back with ten times the force, telling him plainly that you loved her first, and that even though you’d be nearer to her than him, the two of you would still be apart in a way you never had been, not since you both were six years old. And what of Tabito? What of the boy you had known since he was so young, that boy you had grown up alongside? You would leave him behind for good, and you could not bear the thought.

But in turn, this only angered him further. You like him, Aoyama accused you. You like him more than you like me. You weren’t sure how to respond to this. Of course you liked Tabito more than you liked Aoyama. You liked him more than you liked just about anybody, excepting his sister. Yet when Aoyama said it, it didn’t seem as innocuous as you knew it to be. It was the same thing that that girl from your math class had brought up, that there was something else between you and Tabito. You found it so distasteful that your words turned to poison.

You can’t say that, you’d snap, over and over, however fruitless it always was. He’s a kid. You can’t say that.

Aoyama would laugh bitterly, burying his face in his hands. Sometimes, he’d seem so tired and hollow and sick of it all that you’d regret it, regret whatever had happened between you two that had made you end up like this, but then he’d look up at you again and you’d know that this was the inevitable outcome.

It’s only two years. He’d remind you of that fact every time, and what could you say? It was the truth, and the same thing Tabito always insisted to your deaf ears. Two years or maybe less. 

It’s different, you’d huff when you could not think of anything else. Aoyama would sigh and then one of you would apologize: sometimes you, sometimes him. After that you’d kiss, and things would settle into a distorted version of your old comfort, but each time you ran through that fight or one that was similar, it became a little more difficult and your relationship fractured a little more.

There was no one great mistake. You couldn’t pick out a single moment when everything went wrong, when one of you committed a grave and unforgivable sin. It was just the accumulation of many small grievances, the stress of both of your impending moves as well as the knowledge that the end for you both was near, that blew up into an enormous fight, the kind of confrontation that was only frightening when it was finally over.

You both shouted about everything and yet nothing. The relationship, in its best days, had never had anything worth complaining about, and so it was difficult to find something to genuinely be upset over. He insisted you were cheating on him, or that, if you were not already, you soon would. You spat insults at him that you were not proud of, calling him controlling and cruel and stupid, even if he wasn’t really any of these things, and definitely not in the great quantity you insinuated he was.

I joined the art club for you. That was the last thing he said, when it was officially over and your fist was clenched around the doorknob. I could’ve been a national champion at any sport. Soccer or basketball or baseball or whatever. I could’ve been great, but I stayed in the goddamn art club because I wanted to be with you.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, stepping onto his doorstep, the rage leaving you in a minute, replaced by a deep sense of shame, but also, peculiarly, of freedom. Do you wish you had made a different choice now? Now that it’s come to this, I mean.

He laughed bitterly. Nah. Somehow, I can’t seem to regret it.

A lump formed in your throat, but bravely and surely, you swallowed it back. If you cried now, then you were afraid you’d never leave him. I see. Well, good luck in Kyoto.

Good luck with wherever your life takes you, he said. Tell Yayoi I said the same to her. 

I will, you promised.

Tell that brother of hers, too, he said. And tell him you love him while you’re at it.

There was no merit in responding to that final statement, which was as much an assertion of his perceived correctness as it was a heartfelt attempt at reconciliation. So you turned around, allowing your tears to fall when you heard the door shut behind you, the streetlights guiding your way home as you cried silently to yourself.

You never did see him again. It was probably for the best, anyways. A few days later, you were off to Tokyo, with an entire life ahead of you — a life that had no longer had a place for the dalliances of your past.

You and Yayoi, as well as your parents, took the train to Tokyo together. Tabito stayed at home with his grandmother, though he bemoaned the turn of events; he was about to start his second year of high school, though, so how could he justify tagging along? He did come to the station, however, pretending to be nonchalant and ever-so-cool, like he didn’t care one bit that you and Yayoi were leaving for good.

“I hope you’re not considering a career in the film industry, Tabito,” you said. The three of you were sitting on a bench together, yours and Yayoi’s suitcases at your feet, your parents waiting in line at the window to receive your tickets.

“Why not?” he said stiffly.

“You’re horrible at acting,” you said, your arms going around his firm bicep, your forehead pressing to the curve of his shoulder. “It’s okay for you to be sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he said, his voice a dull, trained monotone.

“I am,” you said. “We’re not going to be like this again for a while. Not ever, in one sense of the word. I think it’s natural to be sad about that.”

“Hmph,” Yayoi said, from Tabito’s other side. She was like her brother, but with marginally more of an aptitude at theatrics. Still, there was a curious sheen to her eyes, a dampness to the typically fiery irises. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” you said. “Things will be different no matter what. I don’t think it’s a bad development, but it’s a true one. We’ll — we’ll be apart, Yayoi, and we’ll have to take taxis to visit each other instead of being close enough to walk.”

“You’ll still be able to visit each other,” Tabito said, his face stoic but his voice trembling. “I won’t even get that. I’ll be hours away and all alone.”

“You have your friends and your soccer team,” you said.

“They’re not you,” he said. You weren’t sure if he meant it for the both of you or you alone. Selfishly, you wished for it to be the latter, though you could not say why and had no claim to him for it to be the case. “Nobody could ever be you.”

“If our mom got pregnant again, someone could be like us,” Yayoi offered with a wavering, half-hearted laugh. “You’ll have another sister then. Name her Ya-Y/N and it’ll be like we never left.”

“I’ll be older than her,” Tabito said. “She’ll be a crying, whiny baby.”

“Sounds like you’ll get along well, then,” Yayoi said. He scoffed and smacked her on the arm. She yelped in dismay and rubbed the sore spot, glaring at him all the while, which did inject some levity into the atmosphere.

Your spirits immediately plummeted once again when the train arrived with a rushing, roaring wind, coasting to a stop, the doors heaving open with a sigh. There was a looming emptiness in every car, mirroring the pit in your stomach and the jagged, frayed tears in your heart, which widened with every step you took towards the edge of the platform.

“See you around, bro,” Yayoi said, doing an elaborate handshake with Tabito. “Good luck with soccer. Call me if our parents are being annoying; I’ll talk to them. You can count on it.”

“Thanks, bro,” he said. “Stay safe in Tokyo. Maybe try to get a boyfriend or something, if you can manage it.”

“Shut up, you little twerp. I definitely can! I’m going to end up dating a model, just you wait and watch!” she said, punching him in the arm lightheartedly and then leaping onto the train without a backwards glance, leaving you and Tabito alone. Your parents were waiting inside with your luggage, and you knew Yayoi would probably be confused about why you hadn’t followed her, but for some reason, you found yourself hesitating.

“You’ll be able to get home from the station by yourself okay?” you fretted.

“Yes, of course,” he said, the corners of his mouth curving up in amusement. “Despite what you and Yayoi seem to believe, I’m not a baby, and besides, my house isn’t that far from here. It won’t be a long walk. I’ll be okay — I’ve had to do worse exercise in practice.”

“Okay, but just be careful,” you said, shifting from foot to foot uneasily, playing with your fingers. “You have people who can help you if something happens and we’re not there, right?”

“I do,” he said.

“And — and stay away from pools,” you instructed him firmly. “Because you suck at swimming and I won’t be there to look out for you anymore.”

“I would’ve done that even if you didn’t tell me to,” he said. “Quit nagging me, Y/N. It’s seriously annoying. Don’t you have to go? You’ll miss the train if you don’t hurry up.”

On cue, the train let out a warning whistle. You swallowed and then nodded, but you didn’t move. You didn’t want to leave him. That was what you realized in that very moment: it wasn’t your entire life that you cared about abandoning. There wasn’t anything much you’d miss about your hometown, and certainly nothing you’d miss more than him. Tabito, your Tabito — because he was yours in a way you were loath to share with even Yayoi, who was his actual sister, and you were suddenly so certain that it had always been so and you had just never discerned it.

“Go on,” he said after a second, nudging you towards the train. “Really, you’ll be in trouble soon.”

You thought that you should tell him, but there were not words enough to describe it, so you did not. You could not. You only forced a smile and then stepped onto the train, clutching the metal bar and facing the platform so that you could gaze at him one final time. The train whistled again, and then Tabito’s expression changed into something strict and determined as he raced forward, skidding to a stop on the painted yellow border right in front of you.

“Did something happen?” you said. He shook his head, motioning for you to come closer. Still holding onto the metal bar for balance, you brought your face to his, thinking he might want to whisper one final secret in your ear before he no longer could. Yet he did not; instead, he pressed his lips to your cheek, one of his hands holding the other carefully, so gentle despite the roughness of his calloused palms.

“Bye, Y/N,” he said. “Don’t forget me while you’re in Tokyo.”

The doors closed and the train shot off as you took a step back, too stunned to shout out a final farewell until it was too late and all you could do was watch as his waving form receded into the distance.

[fanaticsnail]

Run Away With Me

Woah, boy! Longest one-shot to date right here. Loved writing it, I hope you enjoy reading it.

Word Count: 9,388

Warnings: injury, angst, fluff, romance, dark thoughts, crying, barely proof-read, mentions of prior relationship and entanglement with another person (no smut). First time writing for Luffy.

Song suggestions are here (primary song I was repeating on a loop), and here (because I wanted to feel more pain). Masterlist here.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you gathered your skirts, sprinting with iron-willed determination towards the docks. Propelled by sheer rage, grief and adrenaline; you continued to sob through your staggered breaths. You heeded no mind to the jagged edges of rocks and stone digging harshly into your bare heals and toes, surely leaving them cut and bleeding in your swift stride.

In the distance, the figurehead of the ship continued to disappear along the horizon; eclipsed by the dawning rays of the sun cascading along the surface of the blue water. Your feet picked up the pace, refusing to relinquish your determination to meet your feet against the polished deck of the ship; holding onto your fruitless dream as the ship continued to flee from your sights.

“Never fall in love with a marine,” you heard echo throughout your mind, “a sailor, nor a pirate. Sea-travelled men will always leave, and you will be alone to bare your shame.”

Another sob fell from your lips as you continued to hold your sights onto the pale white flag of the ship, the logo of the marines waving tauntingly towards you at its retreat. Your eyes had dried up from relinquishment of your stock of tears. There was nothing left but fury.

He had left you.

After spending a night together in the strong arms of your marine: beautiful gestures and spindled words of promises of “forever,” he had left you isolated and humiliated; which he assured you he would never do.

Your feet burned against the harsh coarse sand, propelling you further towards the path of the peer. Many ships, fishermen and sailors beginning to set sail themselves; heeding you no mind as you rubbed your eyes with the back of your forearm, taking a moment to catch your breath.

Heart aching, lips quivering and lungs heavily burdened by sharp inhales and exhales; a growl of frustration and rage fled from your lips as you once again picked up your pace against the wooden, ocean-cracked planks beneath your feet. The ocean air was heavily impacted by the scent of the morning breeze, the ocean tide pulling outwards and into the sea, revealing the hardened sand beneath its retreat.

Hardening your resolve, you brushed your body past a man with a straw hat upon his head, shoving him as you propelled your body further down the dock to bring yourself closer towards the vessel that began its strategic withdrawal from your gaze.

Your bare feet stung as they pressed against the waterworn wood of the docks with sand clinging to the open wounds. Your body ached with overexertion but continued to pitifully drive yourself further towards the end of the peer. You had given everything to him. Your mind, your body, your soul; your heart. You were his and he was yours: only for a single night of passion for him to leave you abandoned and ashamed in your scorn.

Propelling with great strides and paying no mind to the end of the wooden dock concluding its path beneath your feet, a final sob escaped from your lips as you halted your sprint; holding your arms in front of you to steady yourself as your toes clung to the end of the peer.

Dropping carelessly to your knees, you continued to hold your unblinking stare on the ship your marine had sailed upon. The blood from your feet began to dry and cling to your skin as the ship became smaller and smaller in the distance, the tears drying within their ducts and shrouding with a welded seal atop them.

“I will never trust a sailing man again,” you uttered to yourself as your legs began to tingle from their extended hold beneath your weight, “never again.”

You placed your right hand against the wooden floor beneath you, shifting your weight atop your palm while wincing in pain at the damage done to your feet; attempting to raise to stand.

“Woah,” a voice exclaimed from beside you, “what happened to you?”

You looked up, the morning sun shining through the small holes in the yellow straw-hat atop a man with dark hair and mischievous, dark eyes. You were immediately taken by the innocence and sincerity in his voice as he raked his eyes over your legs and feet, assessing the damage your lengthy sprint caused to your broken skin.

“The love of a man,” you confessed darkly, a sinister chuckle falling from your lips as you trailed your gaze towards your stinging and blistering feet.

“Must’ve been some man,” he nodded with a downturned smile and bobbing his head to the side with a shrug. He stooped down to your level, offering his hand out as an added support and an introduction; “I’m Monkey D. Luffy.”

“A pleasure, truly,” you said, a sarcastic nod of your head and roll of your eyes accompanying your words. You looked from his large caramel-coloured orbs to his extended hand and apprehensively reached forward to receive his aid to stand to your feet. You winced under the pain of the fresh welts forming; realising truly only now how dishevelled you looked in the moment.

You were wearing only your white lace, sleeping camisole with a layered white skirt you hoisted to cover yourself in your sprint. Your skin lay peppered with lustful, red marks from last night’s romantic tussle within your bedsheets with the marine; your hair blown out and wild and desperate from the sprint towards the peer; your eyes stained with the memory of dried tears.

“Can you stand?” he asked with furrowed brows as he began to aid your ascension, watching you wince.

“Honestly,” you voice strained under the pain, “not really, but what choice do I have?” 

He hummed in thought, examining your body momentarily before immediately squatting to bring himself lower to your body; hooking one arm beneath your knees and the other supporting your back, easily hoisting you upwards and cradle you into himself. A startled shriek fell from your lips as the warmth of his body and comfort of his actions welcomed you into himself.

“How’s this?” he asked with a warm, wolfy-grin. Your eyes widened at his movement, gazing into his innocent face in surprise at his well-natured intent.

“This is fine,” you squeaked out through your lips, clenching your teeth tightly shut in surprise.

“Oh, good,” he nodded in reply, turning away from the view of the ocean and beginning to walk with you in his arms towards the town once more. “Hold up,” he stated, feeling the grip of you within his arms and shifting you with a small hop, “can I adjust you a little bit?”

You furrowed your brows and reluctantly nodded your head. As soon as you bobbed your head in affirmation, a wider grin dawned on his face as he threw you into the air; a shriek falling from your lips as he hooked his arms beneath your knees, your body falling to land against his back as he caught you. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around the front of his neck and clung to the shoulders of his brass-buttoned shirt, hooking your knees over his waist and falling your ankles to his back.

“That’s better,” he commented with a laugh, beginning a brisk pace towards the heart of town. He effortlessly walked with you clutched tightly against the back of his red waistcoat, as he walked over the peer towards the dunes of the beachfront.

“Hey back there,” he called over his shoulder to you, prompting you to look at his cheek and the corner of his eye. “You reckon you could show me where the library is?” he asked you, maintaining his pace into town, “my navigator needs a book and I’m not sure where to start.”

 You gleefully laughed at his question, adjusting your arms around his neck to ease his carry of you and gesturing towards the tall, washed sand-stone building to the left of the town.

“You’re in luck,” you smirked into him, placing your chin on his shoulder and your cheek flush against his own beneath the broad brim of the yellow straw hat, “I’m the resident librarian here.”

“You don’t say,” he chuckled warmly, looking at you through his long, dark eyelashes out of the corner of his eye; before turning to follow your extended gesture towards the building.

You hummed against his cheek, enjoying the company and aid he was providing to you on your way back towards your building. You ignored the throb of your feet under the pain and the burn of your body. Your rage had dwindled to a slow smoulder the longer you spent clutching the back of the man beneath your thighs as he carried you towards home, swinging your ankles with each step he took towards the building.

As you approached the large wooden door, Luffy stooped his back down to allow you to reach forward and use your thumb to pull the large leaver of the brass-hooked nob down and shove the door open. You couldn’t help the laugh falling from your lips as he continued to chaperone you on his back through the doors to your library.

“You can just set me down now,” you smiled at him, gesturing to a small desk and chair at the foyer of the large room, “and if you could please make sure the sign is flipped over to read ‘closed’, I would really appreciate it.”

Luffy walked you over to the foyer, opting to sit you down atop the tall desk rather than the chair; unhooking his arms from behind your legs and stalking back towards the door and looking at the sign. You sighed in relief of his relinquishment of his hold of your body; instinctively reaching towards your feet to assess the damage of the heels of your feet and the spirited wounds clutching to your ankles with your fingers.

“Yeah, that looks pretty bad,” the man who carried you to your home spoke suddenly. You realised his close proximity to you as you tore your gaze away from your wounded feet towards his awaiting eyes. You sighed, tucking your hair behind your ear as you readjusted yourself under your skirts, brushing the dried sands away from your feet.

“Nothing compared to the number he did on my heart,” you chuckled darkly, hooking your right knee over your left and lacing your fingertips together expectantly; “you said something about a book your navigator needed. Does that mean you’re a sailor?”

“Something like that,” he confirmed with a nod and a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I’m a pirate.”

“A pirate?” you asked through baited breath, halting at the title he bestowed onto himself. Although the town you were currently residing in was welcoming to all travelling individuals of colour and creed; piracy was still a taboo occupation amongst the townsfolk.

“And one day,” he confirmed, leaning in towards your body, “I will find the One-Piece and be King of the Pirates.”

Your eyes widened at his proclamation before holding an air of surprise over them, absolutely believing it be possible with his hardened resolve and playful attitude.

“And what book did you require?” you asked him, tilting your face up towards him and quirking your left brow upwards in question.

“You know what?” he began, halting his words as he gawked at the sheer number of books located in your library, “I’m not sure. I think it was something to do with translation? Looking for stones? A way to bring us closer to the All-Blue? I dunno-,” he scratched his chin thoughtfully, “-all I know is, it was important.”

Your face dropped, eyes narrowing as you shook your head and tilted your chin downwards.

“Well, while you figure that out,” you sighed, a small smile falling to your face, “do you think you could pour me some water into that bowl over there,” you gestured to the sink, “and bring it over to me with a cloth?”  

He followed your gaze, locating a blue and white terracotta ceramic dish in the corner or the room by your sink. He walked over to the dish and began to fill the container to the brim, waddling over towards you with liquid splashing over the edges with each step he took towards you. You creased your brows at him in response, but your smile remained plastered on your face.

“Okay,” Luffy said, placing the dish down beside you atop the bench, “now what?”

“Now, I’m going to wash my feet and assess the damage,” you nodded down to the blistering welts, purple hued bruises and slices of flesh peeled back under your harsh, barefoot sprint, “and you’re going to focus your thoughts on what book you were looking for.”

Looking down towards your bare feet, Luffy winced a little in empathy. His eyes then widened in thought, floating his gaze back up to glance into your face once again.

“Tell you what,” he declared with a joyful expression adorning his cheeks, “if you talk with me about books to help me remember,” he stepped closer towards you, “I’ll fix your feet up for you. Does that sound okay?”

You were taken aback, yet again, at the thoughtfulness of this complete stranger; as he immediately moved to gather your chair and place it in front of you and sat atop it.

“Lay it on me!” he declared with a loud, smiling voice; patting his thigh and gesturing to your right foot. You quirked your brow upwards and hesitantly hooked your right leg over your left knee in front of the hat-adorned pirate in front of you. He firmly gasped your ankle and pulled your foot towards his face. You winced in pain and shrieked again at the action, prompting him to look back up at you again.

“Sorry,” he grit his teeth and softened his eyes up at you. Reaching his hands towards the cloth, he dampened it in the water and began carefully wiping at your skin to remove the dried sand and blood from your foot, ankle and calf.

“Take my mind off it,” you stated through your own clenched jaw, “tell me about the conversation with the navigator, or where you’re journeying to. Might give me a hint on helping you find the book you need.”

He smiled at you, continuing to swipe at your tender flesh of your right foot; checking it over for any serious injury and removing the stains of pain from you.

“I can tell you about my crew if you like?” he smiled down at your foot, focussing his attention on a particularly deep puncture wound on the ball of your foot, “I have Nami, my navigator. She’s really smart,” he removed a piece of stone from your foot, you wincing at it with a small yelp. He again looked up at you, eyes full of sympathy as he rubbed his thumb over the wound to sooth it with his pressure.

“Nami sounds wonderful,” you smiled down at him, quirking your head and softening your eyes.

“Oh, she is,” he confirmed with a broad grin, “and then there’s Zoro. He’s the First Mate, an ex-bounty hunter. Best swordsman I’ve ever known.”

You nodded along, actively listening to the words falling from the man in front of you and imagining what life must look like for him.

“And there’s Usopp,” Luffy tapped your right foot gently to indicate for you to switch your legs over for him to pay equal attention to your left, “he’s our sharp-shooter.”

You unhooked your right leg from atop your left knee and switched over to your left hooking atop your right; smoothing your skirt over your thighs to keep yourself gracefully shrouded from unintentional exposure. He whispered his fingertips over your shin with his right hand while reaching behind your calf with his left to hold it firmly in place.

Breath hitching in your throat, a warm blush rose to your cheeks at his touch. He set to smoothing over your foot, dampening the cloth once more and rinsing your wounded heels and toes with the rag.

“Then there’s Sanji, the chef. He’s amazing at cooking,” Luffy continued, “I especially like the way he prepares pork,” he hummed, eyes glazing over in thought; “I love meat. Meat is my favourite.”

You giggled at his utterance, biting your lip to halt the rise of emotion up into your chest.

“And where do you fit into the crew?” you asked him breathily, “you made no mention of your captain either.”

“That’s because I am the captain,” he tilted his head to look back into your eyes, “and like I said, I will be king of the pirates one day. Gotta start somewhere.”

You gasped at the thought; a pirate captain humbling himself before you and taking care of your wounds after your heart was shattered by a lowly marine cadet. Maybe you had been too hasty in your decision of swearing off travelling men. You shook your head at the thought, softening your gaze down at him as he focussed on cleaning the dried blood from your feet.

“And where are you travelling to, captain?” you asked him softly, watching how carefully he picked at the rocks imbedded in your flesh to rid them from you.

“The Grand Line,” he stated nonchalantly with a shrug. You sighed out sharply with a laugh at him, prompting him to playfully grin up at you.

“You’re really doing it, then?” you asked him, leaning your hands against the desk you were sat atop and shifting your weight onto them, “travelling dangerous waters in search of Gol D. Roger’s One-Piece?”

“Yep,” he confirmed. He hesitated at releasing your foot from his grip, looking down at your feet and tilting his head to the side in deep thought.

“You’d need some knowledge about volcanic activity below sea level and how to navigate the cross,” you nodded before tilting your head back to look at the roof of the library, “probably changes in weather impacting the sails and steering of the ship as you travel. You might also need direction on edible weeds and plants on your journey. Again, lucky for you; I adore reading up on the subject and well versed in-,”

“-Come with me,” Luffy uttered suddenly, holding firm his gaze at your feet, “be my historian. You have everything I’m missing and I want you on my crew.”

You furrowed your brows, snapping your gaze back from its hold on the roof and back towards the stranger in front of you. You gawked at him as he continued: “well, I don’t have a musician or a doctor yet, but I also need a historian,” he shrugged, adding a simple: “be mine.”

You quivered, your eyes flittering between his caramel orbs in awe as he floated his eyes up to join with yours.

“I-I,” you stuttered, unhooking your knees and leaning towards him, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll run away with me,” he leaned forward with a playful grin, “be my historian, join my crew.”

You shut your eyes tightly in thought, imagining what your life might look like sailing the seas as a pirate; fleeing from the embarrassment from last nights’ overexertion and lustful activities and hiding from baring the brunt of your shame. You breathed out a long exhale, reopening your eyes and jumping slightly in surprise to see the captain standing incredibly close in proximity to you now; his body situated to stand between your knees with a broad smile.

“What do you say?” he asked you, grinning wider in question and leaning in closer.

You searched the sincere eyes of the brunette captain in front of you, finding only sincerity in its wake. He truly meant every word falling charismatically from his lips, persuading you with his genuineness and positivity.

“Who will take care of the books here?” were the only thoughts falling, truly reaching for any reason to remain behind.

“Bring them with you,” he shrugged, “we’ve got room. C’mon, I need you. You’ll love the crew, and they’ll love you.”

He brought his body away from its close proximity to you and began to turn away from you to make his way towards the door.

“We’ll be docked for another day to restock the kitchen,” he opened the door, turning his back once more to you, “we’re leaving the following morning. If you’re coming, let me know tonight at the tavern and I’ll help you bring your stuff.”

He waved, before turning back around and shut the door quietly behind him with a small ‘click’.

Astonishment overcame you in all aspects. You fell your eyes to your cleaned and tidied feet, no longer aching nor stinging from the impact of your hasty sprint towards your marine ex-lover. Your body became overwhelmed with emotions. You had no more tears to flee from your ducts at the thoughts of the military man; the only remnants of your time together were the marks littering your collarbone, neck and chest from his passionate ministrations. He used words to get what he wanted from your body physically, fleeing once you had given yourself willingly to him before you woke.

Now here comes this pirate, no expectations falling onto you a part from a place on his ship and a welcome into his familial crew. He was giving you the ending you so desperately desired from your marine lover; to be whisked away from your town and romantically swept into the horizon aboard a mighty vessel.

The only aspect halting you from readying yourself and your supplies and running into servitude aboard a pirate ship were two things: your feet, legs and body ached under the earlier sprint: damage truly impacting your ability to walk.

The other inhibition is the purpose for your travel. You would move the heavens and the earth to feel true, open and honest love for an individual; the true purpose you clung so tightly to the marine. You desired love: to love and be loved in return. Romanticism clung to you like the scent of baked goods wafting from a baker’s door; filling the fibres of your being with the desire of deep, relentless devotion and adoration.

Luffy offered you no such relentless devotion; friendship and kinship being the only things he truly offered to you. There was no romantic notions of love and affection; just truly alliance through acquaintanceship and comradery. Sucking in a sharp inhale, you jumped down from your place atop the desk and planted your feet against the ground firmly. Expecting more pain in anticipation than you truly felt, you shrugged at the dull pain and began to slowly limp up the spiral staircase towards your sleeping area above the large library.

You looked down at your collection from the balcony; your shop being relatively small in comparison to the great libraries of old; but beautiful none the less. You were unsure whether you would’ve truly left it all behind for the marine, only wanting to reach the peer to demonstrate your absolute fury towards him in front of his commander and servicemen. Were you prepared to leave it for a man who promised you nothing than friendship?

Shaking your head, you looked down at your feet which began to heal over with rapidity. The memory of the way he tenderly held your skin and tentatively brushed his hands over your flesh to care for it overcame you, your heart swelling at the feeling.

With no family to impart their thoughts and wisdom onto you, you rolled your shoulders back and glanced down towards the variety of shelves of your beloved books before a ghost of sorrow fell over your face. You will miss their pages, but the notion of belonging to the seas as they carried you from place to place enchanted you. You will join them, and hopefully romance will find you on your journeys.

-

Wolfing down plate after plate of smoked brisket, honeyed hams and braised lamb shoulder; Luffy’s brows furrowed in thought of his encounter with the librarian. Zoro’s frown deepened at his Captain’s expression, noting his usual cheeriness was missing from his aura.

“What happened?” Zoro grumbled through his lips, reclining against the wooden chair and raising a brown-stained glass bottle to his lips and taking a swig.

“I mwet uh raidy,” Luffy attempted to relay through a full mouth.

“Try again,” Zoro ordered, eyes rolling at the display the captain was offering him, “swallow your food first.”

Luffy nodded, shutting his eyes with a flutter of eyelashes and wincing at swallowing the large quantity of meat in his mouth, before uttering; “I met a lady.”

“A lady?” Zoro asked, narrowing his eyes at him in question, “what kind of lady?”

“A really smart one,” Luffy nodded, reaching for a large roasted turkey leg with a citrus glaze oozing from the crisped skin, “I want her.”

Usopp choked on his food, spluttering a little at the uninhibited thoughts falling from the lips of his captain without filter.

“In what capacity?” Zoro asked with a quirk of his brow, not acknowledging Usopp’s choked action nor the captain’s unfiltered expression.

“As my historian,” he said, biting into the meat and rolling his eyes back at the flavour, “uhnd ash mai feund.”

“Swallow your food,” Zoro ordered, pausing between each word as he spoke them slowly, “then speak.”

Luffy nodded, waving his hand dismissively in front of his face as he chewed and choked down his food enthusiastically, “as my historian, and as my friend.”

Zoro nodded, taking the glass neck of the bottle and tipping the amber fizzed ale back between his lips and draining the remainder of the contents from within.

“She’s so pretty,” Luffy whispered beneath his breath to himself, “even when she’s sad, she’s pretty.”

“Why was she sad?” the orange-haired navigator said as she took a seat beside Luffy, her plate containing a small portion of crème brulee with fresh berries and whipped cream atop it, “and did you manage to get the book on volcanic plate shifting?”

Luffy turned to her with a small smile, “some marine left her here, I think.”

“Marines are assholes,” Nami confirmed with a nod, sinking a small teaspoon into the bowl, breaking the solidified sugar layer and scooping a portion of the custard-cream beneath it, “and the book?”

“I don’t want the book,” Luffy nodded, turning back to the tray of meat in front of him, “I just want her.”

“And if she doesn’t want to come?” Usopp chimed in, looking at Nami’s dessert longingly, “not everyone dreams of sailing the seas, you know.”

“I don’t know,” Luffy shrugged, reaching for more of the shredded, smoked brisket and spooning a large portion onto his plate with a large ‘slap’, “something tells me she might.”

-

You had changed into some light travel clothes; choosing to bandage and strap your feet and ankles beneath laced and comfortable shoes to aid in the healing of your cracked and damaged feet. You showered, changed and arranged a cohesive arrangement of clothes over your body to meet with your new captain together with his crew for the first time. Holding every intention of travelling with the assortment of pirates, you decided to meet with them at the tavern to inform them of your intentions of travelling with them as their historian.

Walking down the stone path slowly, wincing a little at a subtle wrong step which aggravated your injured feet; you made it to the tavern and smiled as soon as your gaze fell to the straw-hatted captain sitting at a table with four others; who you assumed were members of his crew. You examined each of them, first starting with Nami; the only woman Luffy made mention of in the prior conversation.

The best part about being a book-smart individual was the ability to remember knowledge at a rapid and ever expanding capacity. Your eyes fell to a sword at the hip of a green-haired, tall man; your mind informing you ‘Zoro’. You travelled your gaze over to the bandana-clad man in front of Luffy, noticing placed beside him on the table was a sling-shot; “Usopp” rolling over in your mind. All that was left was-.

“Hello, beautiful,” a voice called at your side, prompting you to shift your focus to a tall, blonde man with a tailored black suit jacket fastened with brass buckles, a dark tie upon his neck.

“Sir,” you nodded your head at him, a polite smile rising to your face. You travelled your gaze over him, his air of confidence and flirtation rolling off of him in waves. Noticing his proximity to the travelling assortment you were planning on meeting, you determined this was the chef Luffy mentioned earlier.

“I’m S-,” he began, halting only as you spoke over him.

“-Sanji,” you smiled warmly now, reaching out your right hand to meet with his in a friendly welcome, “Luffy told me about you earlier.”

Sanji shook his head, taken slightly aback at your acknowledgement before promptly reaching down and grasping your fingertips within his right hand and rising it to his lips; placing a small kiss atop your knuckles.

“A pleasure,” he said, falling his grip from your hands while mirroring your smile, “unfortunately, I’m yet to join my crew for the evening meal, so I have no context surrounding you. Who might you be, love?”

“Your new historian,” you giggled, falling in a heavily sarcastic curtsey; prompting him to laugh in response, “and the pleasure is mine.”

At the large laughter, Luffy turned around from his seat at the table; his gaze falling to Sanji before floating his dark eyes over to meet with you.

“There she is,” he stated in a low tone, eyes widening before a cheery and triumphant laugh fell from his lips, “I knew she’d join my crew!”

“Where?” Usopp said, turning around and noticing Sanji interacting with you; his eyes equally widening, “she’s beautiful.”

“Right?” Luffy stated more in confirmation rather than question, turning back to Zoro, “isn’t she pretty?”

Zoro raked his eyes over your body, assessing the threat of you joining amongst the crew and noticing below your collar, red marks peppering your neck above your pulse and trailing down towards your clavicle. Nami noticed Zoro’s fixation and turned to acknowledge the interaction falling between you and Sanji.

“She’s stunning,” Nami said with a nod, “and you said she’s the librarian here?”

“Uh-huh,” Luffy nodded his head broadly, “she’s got so many books at her place, huge collection.”

“What were you doing at her place?” Zoro asked a little too quickly, his eyes falling from the red marks on your neck back to focus on the captain in front of him.

“Her feet were all cut up from running to catch the marine ship,” Luffy nodded again, reaching forward to take another glazed turkey leg into his hands and raise it up to his lips, “so I carried her back home and took care of her.”

Zoro hummed, turning his sights to the empty beer bottle in his hands and looking at the bar, “I’m gonna get another drink,” he declared, rising to his feet with a small grunt, “be back in a minute.”

“Sure thing,” Luffy said with a large toothy grin, “can you get me a juice while you’re up there?”

Zoro sighed, nodding in confirmation before turning away to walk towards the bar.

Sanji escorted you with his hand hovering at the small of your back, steadying you in your wincing hobble towards the table with the Straw-Hat pirate crew; sans swordsman.

“Hello Captain,” you nodded shyly, prompting Luffy to turn to face you; immediately rising to his feet at your approach.

“Hello historian!” he declared, placing his hands atop your shoulders and pulling you into a warm embrace, “I’m so glad you decided to run away with me.”

A warm blush rose itself to your cheeks at his unbridled declaration. You apprehensively placed your arms around his back, arching them up to cradle his shoulders beneath his circular grip. He sighed as he held you close to him, overjoyed at your acceptance of his offer.

“Meet the crew,” he whispered in a low hum into your cheek, slowly releasing you from his embrace, “this is-.”

“Nami,” you nodded to the orange-haired woman, “the navigator who wanted a book, I’m only assuming here, was about pressure plates on the ocean floor and volcanic activity close to the grand line?”

“Yes on both accounts,” Nami smiled, watching attentively as you reached into your satchel and retrieved a large journal for her.

“Then this little baby,” you began, reaching out your hand containing the book, “is specifically for you. Enjoy charting!”

Nami sighed a large release of air from within her chest, “finally, competency and intelligence. I am so glad you’re coming with us.”

“Me too, believe me,” you giggled before noticing the captain still remained one arm around your shoulders as he turned you to meet with Usopp.

“Usopp the sharp-shooter, I presume,” you smiled at him with a polite nod.

“That I am,” he grinned widely, basking in his acknowledgement and title.

“You really pay attention to everything, don’t you?” Luffy gawked at you in awe, before lowering his voice; praising you with, “so smart.”

The blush returned and held itself firm against your cheeks, nose and upper ears.

“All we’re missing now is-,” Luffy began, cut off by a cup being placed in his available hand by the green-haired swordsman, “-ah! Zoro! This is our historian.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” you politely nodded your head towards him.

“Pleasure’s mine,” he nodded in return to you and rose the brown bottle of liquid to his lips and took a quick swig of the liquid contents within.

“You hungry?” Luffy offered, unhooking his arm from your shoulders and reaching for a chair to pull out for you, “have some meat.”

You giggled before wincing as you shifted your weight uncomfortably atop one of the painful cut on your right foot, a hand immediately reaching up to catch yours to usher you to sit.

“I got you,” Luffy grinned at you, helping you to sit atop the wooden stool against the table, “just sit down and meet the crew. You’re family now!” he grinned widely and took a seat directly next to you, piling meat onto both his and your plate and began consuming it passionately.

Sanji noticed the dynamic immediately falling between you, arching his brow upwards towards Nami; who mirrored a similar expression on her face at the interaction. Whether Luffy noticed or not, he was absolutely smitten with you, and you looked similarly cursed with infatuation towards him.

Over the following few months, your feet had healed of their afflictions and the marks on your skin from the passionate encounter with the marine cadet had all but faded into a distant memory.

Although apprehensive to leave all of your beloved, aged books behind; the mayor of the town appointed an apprentice librarian to overtake your duties under the promise that it would always first and foremost be home to you should you desire your return. You managed to pack all of the necessities and a small collection of your favourite romance novels, and useful travelling information for your navigator alongside botany and herbal remedies for the chef.

You enjoyed sitting above the deck after completing chores and ships maintenance duties, reading whatever you so desired under the rays of the afternoon sun; basking in the warmth and truly relishing in the waves clashing against the hull. Although it took a few days to adjust to the sway of the ocean, you managed to make yourself comfortable enough to sleep atop a hanging bed within your crew quarters.

One thing you still remained missing in this sea-bearing adventure was the romance you so desired. You noticed first Sanji and how flirtatious he truly was, the first who you viewed as potential suitor; but you shot down the thought immediately as it crossed over your mind, his presence and demeanour reminding you too much of the marine who swindled a night from you.

Zoro was the next on your list, but you found his aura much too intimidating and harsh in his exterior. Although he eventually did warm to you, he felt like an older brother who perpetually looked out for you and the remainder of the crew as the loyal knight; a quality that you absolutely enjoyed.

Usopp was another story entirely. He spoke so highly of his first love, a noblewoman by the name of Kaya at Syrup-Village. He remained completely taken with her, relaying tales of his encounters with gusto. The tales were what smothered the developing feelings within your chest; lying was not a quality you particularly enjoyed, especially after the tussle with the marine.

Nami was a wonderful option to you, but she immediately made it clear to all around her that she was absolutely happy to flirt a little here and there; but never take it further than just that. You enjoyed flirtations, sure; but romance was what you were truly after.

After your assessments made of your entire crew, you began to apprehensively release your dream of romance on the high seas and attempt to find a new dream to cling to.

“I have another one for you!” your captain declared to you gleefully, waving a book in the air. You smiled, turning towards him and placing your novel on the wooden bench beside you.

You had been at sea for the past week and desperately required a layover to replenish your kitchen supplies. Each time you would dock at a new port, Luffy would bring you a book to add to your collection. Every book he brought you was completely different than the other; some were romance, some were collection guides to precious metals and mineral stones, some were even children’s books.

“Thank you, Luffy,” you beamed at him, rising to your feet and approaching him and the new book he had brought to you, “what is it this time?”

“I’m not really sure,” Luffy nodded with a downturned smile, “but Sanji said it was a good one for you. The pictures look nice?”

You nodded at him, looking into his wide caramel orbs with appreciation and adoration, before turning your attention to the book within his hands and immediately shrieked in complete shock. You were unsure how both the colour could drain from someone’s face but a warm, heated blush could also rise: yet here you were; a place somewhere between bewilderment, embarrassment and complete shock at the object he had brought to you.

When the small gifts started, it was almost apparent that Luffy was not completely illiterate; just blissfully ignorant of a few things, particularly when it came to the way he acted around you. He was beautiful, his soul was sincere and his expression was without inhibitions or restraint. You always knew exactly how he was feeling, him always approaching you if he needed clarification on a subject he wasn’t well versed in.

He would always find a way to touch you, reassuring both you and himself. Whether it be: under a gentle brush of your shoulder, taking your hand within the crook of his elbow to lead you around town, steadying your hips above the deck under particularly choppy waves, taking you by the hand and bringing you over to the mast of the ship if he saw a creature jumping above the sea to greet you. His touch was a comfort to both of you, and very welcomed in its receival.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t harbour feelings of romantic notions for your captain, but under his ignorance on the subject; you chose to not pursue engaging in anything more than comradery.

And now, he has brought you a graphic guide on intimate entanglements from the North, East, South and West Blues with accompanying pictures beside their written descriptors.

“A-and you said,” you stuttered, trying to collect your thoughts, “you s-said Sanji picked this out?”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a large grin, “although, I do like some of the pictures.”

Your eyes continued to get wider at the notion that he’s looked at the explicit material within the pages; “Luffy, this is-,” you caught yourself, attempting to choose the next words as carefully as you could, “vastly different than anything you’ve brought to me so far. The last one was a children’s story about a small mouse, and now-,” you inhaled, bringing your hands together in a palm to palm clap and raising your fingertips to your nose and the crease in your brow, “-you’ve brought me an in depth guide to intimate relations.”

Luffy quirked his head to the side, with a small “Hah,” sound. He turned the book to the side and furrowed his brows in thought, “I thought it was some kind of wrestling.”

“It is in some cases, Captain,” you sighed out a shaken, slow breath and rolled your shoulders back.

“You don’t say,” he said thoughtfully, bringing his free hand to his chin and scratching it deep in thought before asking suddenly, “so, you don’t want it?”

“I never said that,” you said all to quickly for your liking, shocking both yourself and Luffy, “I’m happy to add it to my ever growing collection of gifts from you, sir.”

“Oh, okay then!” he said, thrusting the book into your arms. You lifted your shaking hands up towards the book and clasped it gently within your fingertips; Luffy’s hand meeting with your two in the process.

“Thank you, captain,” you smiled through gritted teeth, still caught in your fluster while your captain remained delightfully ill-informed to his most recent gift’s implications.

“You’re welcome, historian,” he smiled warmly before turning back on his heal and walked away.

The first time that he kissed you, you were unsure if it was intentional or truly accidental.

You were walking along the coastal shore back towards the Going Merry, his arm hanging around your shoulders, while yours clasped lowly around his hip. He was relaying a small memory of his childhood, a man named Red-Haired Shanks often spoken amongst the happier memories. You giggled at one comment, Luffy puffing up his chest in perfect imitation of one of the members of the Red-Hair Pirate crew.

At the conclusion of your melodical laugh, Luffy arched his face into yours and pressed his lips affectionately against the apple of your cheek, uttering compliments of; “you have a great laugh.”

Your face drew into a beet-red colour as Luffy continued to chaperone you along the sandy shore. You couldn’t ignore the rapid pace of your chest, your heat beating irregularly in rhythm and a small tingle ran up your spine and coursed through your chest.

“Okay,” he declared gleefully, “now we’ve got the Red-Hair Pirate stories out of the way, let me tell you about Buggy the Clown.”

“Yes, Captain,” you replied shyly, holding firmer against his waist as he relayed memory about a blue-haired pirate captain who also happened to have similar Devil-Fruit abilities to Luffy.

After that first small taste of affection offered freely from your captain, you began to actively seek it out from him to test whether he did harbour romantic intention toward you or whether it was truly a hoax. You quickly found that, alongside his other need to feel you beneath his fingertips, that his lips also required your skin beneath them.

Cheeks, hands, shoulders, temple, forehead; everything apart from the one place you truly desired was met by the lips of your captain. It seemed he wished to remain platonic in friendship; which was slowly driving you to the brink of insanity. You were smitten, completely overtaken by the thoughts of romanticism with the Devil-Fruit user; yet not readily approaching him with the same manner of unbridled affection as he had been over the past few days. The way you decided to show him affection was to be a willing recipient to receive all of his needs and requirements to fill his cup of his need of physical touch and quality time.

This particular evening, he was reclining against you, laying his straw-hat covered head in your lap as you read one of your novels. He appeared to be resting his eyes, a small snore would fall from his lips every now and again, to which you responded with a small teetered giggle and absent-mindedly rested your hand upon his chest and soothed over the skin beneath it.

As you completed the final chapter in your novel, you closed the book and sighed in contentment; fantasising about meeting a romance such as the one you were just engaging with. You were wrong to seek out a marine: that was stupidity manifest on your part. Of course he was going to leave you, sailors always do. Pirates, however? None had yet betrayed your trust as much as the cadet had with empty promises of romance.

You groaned and brought your fingertips to your brow, smoothing over the headache in an effort to rid your subconscious of all memory of him. Your bleeding, hopelessly romantic heart yearned for that closeness; to feel it truly and deeply – that love you so craved and was met by complete emptiness: lust being the only mutual feeling shared between you and the military trainee.

“You okay?” Luffy asked you, peeking up at you through one of his eyes.

“Of course Captain,” you smiled at him, eyes always soft for him behind the melancholy you were feeling. He noticed the shift in your tone and sat up immediately, turning to face you with his legs crossed.

“You finished your book? Is that why you’re sad?” he asked you, his brows furrowing in the middle of his forehead while his beautiful brown eyes deeply searched yours beneath his long onyx eyelashes. You sighed and shook your head with a smile, “no captain, I’m not sad.”

“You’re not a good liar,” he said with a small smile, turning his eyes towards the wood below you, “you should save that for Usopp, although he’s not very good at it either.”

You chuckled lightly at that comment, Luffy instinctively seeking out your hands to grasp within his own as he continued to hold his gaze to the ground. His thumb circled over the skin on the back of your hand, carefully ghosting his digits along each of your knuckles slowly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked you, quirking his head up slightly to look shyly up at you, “my ears are yours.”

You sighed with an overburdened breath, feeling the weight release itself from your shoulders as you began to formulate the words within your mind.

“When you found me, I was at my lowest,” you confessed, “I don’t think I truly told you, or anyone, about what happened that night.”

Luffy chose not to speak, just nod in curiosity at you while you continued to relay your thoughts.

“Your dream is to be King of the Pirates,” you allowed yourself to freely express the words from within your chest, “and mine is just to love,” you nodded along in your confession, “and to be loved in return.”

Luffy circled your knuckles with the pads of his thumbs and inched himself closer to you, knees brushing against each other’s in the process of his closer proximity.

“I was looking for it, actively searching for it the way that we are searching for the One-Piece for you,” you continued, tightening your grasp around his fingertips as he held you within his own, “and when I fell for him,” you grit your teeth, “I thought I had found it. He was my knight, my rescuer,” your lips quivered at the thought, again opening your rage you hadn’t dealt with since the beginning of your quest.

“He was meant to be my love, Luffy,” you confessed darkly, “but he was just a channel for my lust, a syphon of my happiness, and nothing but an arrow to my heart.”

Luffy released your right hand from his left, hooking his right thumb to encase all eight of your extended digits within his firm grasp; falling his left hand to rest against your knee to further comfort you as you expressed your sorrow.

“I-I just,” you continued, fighting the pit forming actively within your throat, “I want it so badly, Luffy. When I think about it, I can’t breathe; I can’t speak. I want nothing more than to give my heart and have it cherished and to love passionately with every fibre of my being.”

You were searching all around with your eyes, avoiding meeting his gaze at all costs; truly relishing in the company he was providing to you, actively listening and hanging onto every utterance and confession that fell freely from your lips.

“And when I tried it with him,” your voice hitched within your throat, halting your thoughts. You gulped down the dryness in your mouth and continued to formulate the words, “I felt truly broken. There was nothing there, only emptiness and suffering.”

“What happened that night?” he asked you, quietly prompting you to speak the words you were trying desperately to avoid, “please. Please tell me.”

You released a stifled growl of anger, directed not at your captain but at the memory of the cadet, “I don’t particularly want to spell it out for you.”

Luffy rose himself to his knees, kneeling over you while removing the hand on your knee upwards to cradle your face beneath his warm palm.

“I don’t care,” he uttered darkly, “you need to tell me, and I’m waiting to hear it.”

“It was lust, Luffy,” you growled, still avoiding his gaze but welcoming his palm against your cheek with a small lean of your cheek against it, “lust disguised as love. Disguised as the beauty and purity of a lily, but truly the monster lurking beneath it ready to strike and devour in its wake.”

“And how did the monster strike you?” he asked, moving his palm down to your chin and rising your eyes up to meet his.

“It stole my dream from me,” you whispered against his flesh, “and left me blistered, bleeding and broken; all alone in the world with skin peppered with yearning marks openly displaying my shame.”

“I’ll tear it apart,” he uttered darkly, his eyes holding true to that promise, “I’ll help you reignite your dream.”

You felt the corners of your eyes begin to prick with the first tears you hadn’t felt overwhelm you since welding them shut all of those months ago. This was your captain, holding your body close to his and promising you with complete sincerity and truthfulness that he was going to help you achieve your dreams as you were searching to achieve his.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered bringing his face closer to your own, “I-,” he halted his words as they formed in his throat, “-I want to help you.”

You creased your brows in confusion at his statement, as he had already declared to you that he was actively going to help you achieve your grand, romantic dream of finding your greatest love.

“I don’t under-,” you began, halting your words as his lips were brought down to meet with your own. Your eyes were wide as you felt the gentle caress of his lips atop your own, his hand smoothing itself over your cheek and begin to lace within your hairline over your ear. Both of you were as shocked as the other, him immediately tearing his lips away from yours and pulling back from your embrace and close proximity.

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes wide with concern, “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Captain,” you addressed him in a whisper, your eyes now releasing a small trail of emotion from the corners of your eyes. He brought his eyes back to meet with your own, floating his gaze between your irises and looking down to your lips once more.

“I want to be that,” he said, bringing his body closer to yours once more, “I want to be that for you.”

“Luffy,” you whispered again, your bottom lip quivering as your heart began to swell with emotion.

“From when you first touched me on the dock,” his smile returned to his face, “you bumped into me, you know.”

You shook your head with a small smile clinging to your lips once more, reaching your hands out to seek out his own.

“You bumped me when you ran towards the end of the peer,” he nodded, taking your hands within his once more, “and you tickled my interest. Your ferocity, your beauty. I wanted that.”

You giggled sorrowfully, looking down to the wooden deck. Luffy chased your gaze by lowering his head to be within your sights; a small laugh fleeing from both of you as he did so.

“Can we do that?” he asked, nudging your chin upwards with the top of his hair before pressing a small kiss against your nose, “can I love you?”

“I don’t know what to say,” your earlier words repeating from your lips, the memory of him asking you to join his crew eclipsing over your mind and memory.

“Say you’ll run away with me,” he whispered lovingly to you, echoing his words back to you with a wide intimate smile made just for you, “I’ll never let you go.”

Sucking in a final breath of determination and becoming overwhelmed with emotions, you propelled yourself forward into his arms; releasing his hands from within your own and lacing them around his neck. The sheer force of your jump pushed his body back and had you falling into him.

The knocking clumsily of teeth within the overwhelming joy of your embrace was the happiest you truly felt. Your heart swelled as your captain circled his arms not only around your back, but elasticising themselves to constrict your bodies together; lacing around his own back, wrapping around yours in the process. You squealed in delight as he held you closer, your smiles prohibiting you both from deepening the kiss further but enjoying the feeling of nearness all together.

Hoisting you into the air, he rose to his feet and spun you gleefully in a circle, continuing to press his lips firmly against your own in a passionate embrace. He placed you down carefully on the ground once more; unwrapping his tightly bound, elastic arms from your body as you trailed your fingertips beneath his straw hat and clutched at the curls at the nape of his neck. He groaned against your lips at the feeling of you massaging his scalp and pressed further kisses feverishly against your mouth.

He trailed his mouth over your cheek, down to your jaw and looped his arms around your waist, pulling you to rest flush against his stomach and chest as you accidentally knocked the straw hat from his head. The drawstring successfully held his hat dangling firmly from his neck and down between his shoulder blades, prompting another laugh to escape your lips.

Grabbing a hold of his cheeks and relinquishing his assault against your neck, you brought his face once more up towards you and trailed a warm and welcoming caress of your lips against his own. His brows furrowed at the intensity, choosing to suck in a sharp inhale of breath through his nose as he motionlessly held you against himself; choosing to feel every emotion rolling from you onto him.

Breaking from the kiss, you both gazed through half-lidded eyes at each other; true adoration and love being completely shared between the two of you.

“How’s this?” he asked you, pressing his forehead against your own and closing his eyes once more as he felt your breath and heartbeat echoing his own.

“This,” you began, closing your own eyes and feeling his love and adoration falling from him in waves, “is fine.”

“Oh, good,” he whispered, removing his forehead from your own and replacing it with a gentle kiss, “now let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

[babysun412]

Nct Drean Reaction: You surprise him after being long distance

Mark

Being so far apart from you has him thinking about you 24/7. He never shuts up about you to his members and constantly relates everything back to you. He writes songs about you, poems about you, he even writes letters he plans to give you when he sees you. Everytime you get off a call with each other he sits in silence for a moment and wishes you were there with him. Most of his saddest moments are the second you say goodbye on the phone.

So when he opens his bedroom door after a long day of practice and sees your bright smiley face. He can't help but tackle you in the biggest hug he can. You both land on top of his bed and his face is pressed in your neck as he says "No way" over and over again. He refuses to let go of you for the rest of the day.

"Holy shit, you're here. I love so much baby. Oh my god-"

Renjun

I honestly think he would cry. He would seem the least affected by being in a long distance relationship but it would secretly hit him the hardest. One of his favorite things is just to be with you. He tries to make the most out of the time you do get to see each other but in the end it always feels too short. The texts and calls keep him going throughout the day but he wants nothing more but to see your smile in person again.

You walk into the practice room after Jaemin picked you up and helped you surprise him. Renjun was the only one in the room and once he saw you through the mirror...he broke. His mouth was wide open in disbelief as he went straight into your arms. You couldn't help but coo as he cried gently into your shoulder, whispering how much he missed you. You would try to calm him down but he was ready to find a way to keep you by his side for good.

"I missed you... please stay."

Jeno

Jeno is %100 the member who would call and text you the most. He'll call to ask simple questions like what to grab at the grocery store or he'll even call when he's gaming just to hear your nagging. He gets so sad when you don't answer even though he knows it's probably for a good reason. He just wants to share his thoughts with the only person he always wants to hear them.

He got sad when you didn't answer his call. Like where tf are you? This is your regularly scheduled Jeno time. He'd be speechless when he sees you making dinner in the kitchen. You'd so causal about saying hello before laughing at his frozen state. You would giggle as he runs towards you and picks you up in a hug. But before you can say anything he would pull you into the most passionate kiss of your life.

"Jeno-"

"Shh, I wanna kiss my baby."

Haechan (Donghyuck)

Donghyuck just loves affection so it would be hard for him to do long distance. You would both call and text each other a lot but some days it's just not enough for him. He would beat himself up for being sad that you aren't there because he knows it's not your fault. But sometimes he just feels so helpless on how to feel better. He just misses you so much.

For the first time ever, he doesn't say a word when he sees you in the dressing room after his concert. Your smile would begin to fade when he doesn't say anything but as soon as you get closer he pulls you as close as you can get to each other. His face would bury itself in your neck as he would breathe in the scent he missed so much. He would not let you out of his arms for the longest time and you would both stand in the middle of the dressing room hugging despite the other people around.

"Please just hug me and pet my hair."

Jaemin

Jaemin tries to be as present in your life as possible when you are apart. He memories your daily schedules and is always reminding you to eat and get enough sleep. Taking care of you is something that takes his mind off the distance between you. He wants you to know that he's doing well too so that you can have no worries when you finally see each other again. Unfortunately, that's not how everything works sometimes.

You had come to surprise him at his dorm and he almost screams in joy after he walks through the door. He would run to you with a smile and hug you as tight as he can. But what he doesn't expect is for you to start crying into his chest. You felt like in order to keep him happy that you needed to pretend to be happy too. You felt like you needed to hide how much you missed him but you can't anymore. Jaemin would feel awful seeing you cry and his top priority would be to make you happy again.

"Baby, we can do so much while you're here! We can go on dates and hold hands and kiss and have s-"

"JAEMIN!" *Smack*

"I was gonna say sleepovers! But I mean~"

"Na Jaemin."

Chenle

Chenle understands that you have your own life and schedules but he would struggle with the fact you can't just maneuver them around whenever you want. Why can't you just take your lunch break when he gets a chance to grab his own food? Why can't you just skip class when he finally has a break in his schedule to call you? He's not mad about it or anything but he just gets worried if you both aren't able to find time for each other then your relationship might fall apart. It would mean everything to Chenle when you come to surprise him.

His mom was actually the one who suggested for you to come surprise Chenle. He was finally going to be visiting his home and his mom talked about how much he's been talking about you. So when Chenle sees you standing in his bedroom in his house in his home country...he realizes you're the one. Neither of you had said I love you yet and the second he sees you it's the only thing he's able to say.

"SURPRISE!"

"..."

"Lele?"

"I love you."

Jisung

Jisung would be another one who doesn't show how much the distance affects him. He thinks about you a lot more than you know. He's always wondering what you are doing or when he sees something funny he instantly sends it to you because he knows it'll make you laugh. Jisung would like to have that close, cute and cheesy relationship with you but he respects the reasons on why you're both apart. He doesn't want to seem selfish by complaining about the distance.

When he enters the dark room, he thinks that his hyungs are doing the obvious birthday cake surprise. What he doesn't expect is for his hyungs to scream happy birthday and show you standing behind them. His mouth would drop open and he'd look around like he's questioning if this is real. Once you go to hug him, he would press your foreheads together and nuzzle the tip of your nose with his. The closeness he's been craving for finally being fulfilled.

"Happy Birthday, baby."

"You're finally here."

[1d1195]

My Friend's Toyota I

🎶 here she is! Based on the song of the same name, by Asiris 💕 I wanted to write this before spring arrived. It's just a few parts (I'm thinking 4 right now) only because the first part got so long 🤭

~8k words

Warnings: college!Harry but otherwise none really. Just wanted to write a cute romantic story. Maybe the tiniest bit of angst (but maybe not in this part just yet). This part is a little ramble-y but I promise it'll come together quick.

But this... angel he had bumped into...

She was going to star in all his fantasies now.

Can’t believe September’s already over / Looked for stars and I found a supernova / praying to God that I can hold her close / ‘Cause I know she’s worried ‘bout the snow / She said “Darling, should I bring a coat?”

Harry thought he was more excited to go to university than anyone had ever been. “For drinking right?” his friends from school asked with a laugh. They chatted about it all the time during the summer before they all left their hometown in favor of the new chapter of their lives. Harry liked drinking, sure. It was fun but he enjoyed hanging out with his friends more. At least when they were in university they wouldn’t be drinking illegally anymore.

But Harry was a bit of a hopeless romantic.

He believed university was the surefire way to meet the love of his life. The person who would knock him off his feet, make his heart grow three sizes too big for his chest, and simply just... feel like he was right where he was supposed to be.

The first semester of university came and went.

Harry didn’t meet the love of his life.

He had Mitch. His roommate and one of his best friends from home. But Mitch was in love with their friend Sarah and unfortunately, he didn’t feel the same way about Mitch as Sarah felt about him. But that was okay. He still had lots of time to find the person that would make his stomach flutter.

But spring semester came and went too.

Harry tried to find her. He went on dates with several women he met in classes and at parties. He heard the whispers and rumors about him. It made him a little sad that some of the women he went out with never corrected the rumors. His longest relationships were no more than a month, but Harry couldn’t help it that he didn’t feel the spark he was looking for and ended things before they really got going.

It was supposed to be all-encompassing. Make him breathless. Knock him to his knees. Maybe he was being ridiculous. At the age of almost twenty he was being unrealistic to want something like that. He was young. There was plenty of time for love.

But was it so bad that he wanted it now?

His dorm room with Mitch was a suite and they each had their own rooms. They decorated the main room with the help of Sarah to make it homey (and also stopped them before they used empty vodka bottles as décor). Their dorm was one of the “party” dorms, but they rarely hosted. Harry and Mitch wanted their place to be a safe place. It rarely saw more than ten people—and that was only when he and Mitch were pre-gaming with other friends to go to a party off campus. Sometimes Harry brought his friends back if they had too much to drink. It made him feel better knowing they were in a safe place. Sarah even brought back a girl that was too drunk to make any good decisions of her own accord. Harry minded over her with worry because the poor thing was all but sobbing as she threw up most of the night and whined about how sad she was.

Harry actually dated her for about a month after—some kind of savior complex that he should have known doomed their relationship from the start.

So, he kept waiting to find the love of his life. But he couldn’t help but feel discouraged as he complained to his mum and Gemma over the summer that he didn’t find her that first year.

“Honey bunny, it’s too early to think like that,” Anne smirked. “You’re so young.”

He shrugged. “I guess. M’jus’... Mitch has Sarah,” he reminded them.

“I know, but...” Gemma smiled sadly at him. “You’re not Mitch. It’ll happen when it’s supposed to happen.”

Well Harry didn’t meet her the following year either. Twenty came and went. He continued hearing rumors about his body count. The only ones ready to defend him ever was Mitch and Sarah but he simply didn’t care. The girls he met at parties, bars, in class, they all continued to flirt with him and when Harry felt the hope of a spark, he chose to pursue it—not because of the rumors, not because he felt like he had to in order to find the love of his life, simply because he was young and enjoying his life.

But September of his third year.

Oh.

*

Harry was appalled that as a third-year student, any of his major professors deigned to have an eight-AM class. It felt like death as he walked with the throng of people headed to the correct buildings when the sun was barely high in the sky. His eyes felt droopy, and he was certain he yawned the entire walk from dorm room to classroom.

His backpack was slung over his shoulders. He shouldn’t have gone out last night. He wasn’t hungover, but he was just so tired. The chance of meeting the love of his life could have been at that party. That wasn’t an opportunity he was willing to miss.

“I told you,” Mitch muttered to him liking eight-AMs more than the average college student. Get it out of the way. He stuck his foot out causing Mitch to stumble a bit and he smirked with a low chuckle. “Idiot,” Mitch grumbled.

Harry didn’t know what he wanted to do with his degree yet. Another component of divine intervention he was hoping would appear in front of him. Love and career. He hoped the universe would help him figure both out sooner rather than later.

Mitch veered off to his own building and Harry counted down the minutes until he could trek back to his dorm room. Harry was yawning—again—and shook his head trying to perk himself up as he made it to the building where his classroom resided on his schedule.

Harry chose a seat in the back of the room. Put his head on the desk and tried not to think about how his bed might be his real soulmate.

*

Harry was much more awake now that his professor had re-sparked his interest in microeconomics. All his classes were econ-based this year and he was honestly super excited to look at different facets of his major and maybe that was divine intervention. He had four required economic electives: sports, law, history, and statistics. Additionally, he would be taking a math class that was a pre-requisite to the class he needed for next semester. He tried not to think about it too much.

With a pep in his step, he no longer felt like going back to his dorm and sleeping as he told Mitch he would be doing instead of joining him for breakfast. He wanted to go to his next class or the bookstore. He wanted to geek out over the intro lecture he just heard to someone that would care and wouldn’t brush off his nerdiness. What he really wanted was someone to kiss at the end of the day and tell him all about their classes and ask what he wanted to do for dinner—whether it was dining hall food or a date in town.

“Hi Harry,” someone called as he fantasized about his little dream life. He didn’t even see who it was, so he turned to catch a glimpse.

“Hi—” he started to call politely. If it was someone he knew, he didn’t want to be rude. As he turned, he must have shifted into the path of someone else’s walk to class. He bumped into someone with about half of his body. He knocked her phone out of her hand. Also made her stumble off the sidewalk a bit. “Oh, sorry, love,” he said bending for her phone before she could. The water bottle she had tucked in her bag also fell to the ground. “Are you alright?” He was hopeful he didn’t hurt her, but who knows, she could have tweaked her ankle on the edge of the walk and Harry would have felt horrendous for the whole rest of the day.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” her voice was a bit rushed. “I just transferred here this semester, and I’m all turned around and I’m going to be late—”

Harry glanced up at her having gathered her belongings from the dewy grass and finally caught her gaze. She stopped speaking when Harry looked at her. He swore his heart stopped. They were off the sidewalk, now. People were walking quickly to and from their classes. Harry could feel the gaze of people who knew him as he walked by. Trying to figure out who the girl was he was talking to.

Harry knew he hadn’t found the love of his life yet due to lack of connection. They liked Harry well enough, and he honestly was fortunate to have had a few girlfriends who were kind, intelligent, and pretty. Those he had dated the past two years simply didn’t scratch that itch for the fantasy he had: asking about his day, telling him about hers, and what did they want to do for dinner.

But this... angel he had bumped into...

She was going to star in all his fantasies now.

They hadn’t spoken in thirty seconds while Harry dreamed of happily ever after with her. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Where are y’headed?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head rapidly and pulled her phone from his hands. Harry tried to memorize everything about this moment. The concentrated expression on her face while she scanned her phone screen. “Umm... Livingston 210,” she sighed. “Am I going the complete wrong way?” She asked nervously. “God this is so embarrassing. I spent all day yesterday walking around trying to map out my paths and I had to park in a different lot, and I am the worst with maps and directions,” she rambled.

“No, no,” Harry shook his head. “S’this way. Let me walk you,” he offered. “You’re fine,” he promised glancing at his own watch. “You’ll... you’ll be early,” he reassured her.

She blew out a relieved breath. “Really? Don’t you have a class to get to?” She asked. “I don’t want to put you out—”

He shook his head quickly. “No, not... not at all, love,” he murmured. “M’happy t’do it. Got a break before m’next class.”

Her face took on this gorgeous smile that Harry wasn’t sure he would ever be able to forget. The relief was palpable. It seemed almost excessive, like he was a doctor and told her that she wasn’t ill and not that her class was only about a three-minute walk. But Harry adored that smile. The way her eyes lit up along with the curve of her lips. “Thank you, so so much. I’m so nervous and know absolutely no one—except my roommate. But she doesn’t have class until noon. Plus, my transfer credits went in late last week so the schedule I had planned is all different than the one I made in June. I really almost considered just leaving and transferring back—”

He chuckled at her little ramble. He liked it a lot. Way more than he probably should have for having met her only ninety seconds prior. He wondered if she always did that. The need to find out was nearly unbearable. How could he prolong the conversation? How could he get her number in the next two minutes it took her to walk to her class? “C’mon,” he tilted his head toward the direction he had come from.

Was he being ridiculous? Maybe.

But this was what he wanted. The way his heart stopped. He couldn’t ignore that. Was he holding his breath? Was she feeling the same warm tension that was covering his entire body with the need to look at her? This was it. She hadto be it. The love of his life. The first day of third year. His heart felt... whole.

“Oh good, this is familiar,” she sighed with relief. Chuckling, Harry held the building door open for her to pass through. “Do you like candy?” She asked as she entered.

Blinking curiously, Harry wondered if she had some conversation in her head that he wasn’t privy to that resulted in such a question. “M’sorry?”

“Candy?”

“Uh, yeah. Of course,” he smiled at her curiously.

“Okay, I’ll get you candy as a thank you for walking me, then,” she promised with an assured nod of her head.

Harry was floored by her kindness to a stranger. It made him feel so overwhelmed that he ignored how ridiculous it all seemed for him to act like this. So that meant she wanted to see him again. He chuckled. “Y’don’t have t’do that, love. S’not out of m’way,” he reminded her.

“I know... but you don’t know me, and you look important.”

“Look important?” He repeated dumbly and gestured to the stairwell for her to ascend. He followed beside her hoping he didn’t look as creepy as he felt feeling so overwhelmed with how he already felt about her.

“I don’t know, everyone was staring at you while we walked over,” she shrugged.

He smirked. But he was surprised he missed that. Usually, he noticed when people called out to him.  “Everyone?”

She nodded. “I think a few people even did a double take,” she explained. “So, you must be important.”

He rolled his eyes with another little laugh from his lips. “Uh...I don’t think m’important,” he admitted. They stood a few feet away from the door labeled 210. “S’really no trouble. I jus’ left m’eight AM from here,” he promised. “Was jus’ going t’get breakfast. M’happy t’help.”

“Well, thank you. I really appreciate it. I promise I’ll get you candy,” she said glancing at her watch and then the classroom door. “I like to get a good seat for the lecture. I’ll... see you around...?” She waited for him to fill in the missing information.

“Harry,” he said wiping his hand on his leg before holding it out for her to take. The first time he would touch who he was certain was the love of his life.

“Harry,” she repeated, placing her hand in his while introducing herself as well. “I’ll see you around.”

His heart was aching with something that had to be a cross between infatuation and undeniable love. Her hand felt so nice in his and it was just a handshake. Imagining their fingers twined together made him ache with want. “Wait,” he said right as her hand touched the doorknob. “Where’s y’next class?” He asked. She pulled her phone from her pocket and opened her schedule. “Uh... Sawyer,” she said reading off her phone. Harry’s heart leapt. “312.”

He felt tingles all through his body. From fingertip to his stomach, to the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. “Yeah?” He asked rhetorically. The question was more for the universe; it’s way of telling Harry she was here. “I’ll walk you,” he promised. “We’re in the same class.”

She turned her face briefly from him—maybe an effort to hide the blush that was covering her cheeks and making Harry fall even harder for her. “Yeah?” She wondered.

He nodded. “I’ll meet y’at the front of the building when class gets out, yeah?”

She smiled. “Okay, thanks, Harry,” she sighed with relief heading through the doorway. “Enjoy your break,” she called over her shoulder.

Harry floated back down the steps. Honestly, he wanted to wait outside her classroom, but he just met her, and he wanted—no needed—this to work. Wanted it to work more than anything. The smile plastered on his face had his cheeks hurting but he couldn’t stop. He nearly sprinted to the closest dining hall where he told Mitch he would meet him for breakfast.

“Sorry, m’late. I jus’ met the woman m’going t’marry,” his voice was all airy, falling into a seat beside Mitch with a dreamy look on his face.

“Whoa,” Mitch chuckled. “You look sick.”

“I feel sick,” he laid down onto a second chair. Backpack still on. He looked like an idiot, but he couldn’t help it. He was in love.

“Glad you met her, Harry. Finally, right? Can you act like an adult?” Mitch muttered cutting up the waffle he had on his plate. Sitting up he smiled at his friend.

“We have class together next.”

“Isn’t that your math class?” He wondered. He thought about the schedule Harry was insistent about putting on the fridge so they could find each other if needed while at home. For emergencies. But Mitch didn’t understand why the schedule needed to be on the fridge if Harry made him commit it to memory anyway.

“Yeah, so?”

“You hate math.”

“No one likes math,” he grumbled.

“Maybe she does. Maybe she’s not your soulmate.”

“Shut up,” he dropped his bag in his seat and headed to get food. Upon returning with his tray, about three other people said hello to him. One girl stopped him asking if he was coming to her party this weekend and one of the guys that he knew from his pickup soccer games asked if he was available tomorrow night for a game at the rec field. “If she likes math then... jus’ mean she completes me. Still m’soulmate,” he shrugged.

“You got an answer for everything,” Mitch laughed.

*

Harry found her sitting on the barrier wall to the mini garden outside the building. One of her legs stretched along the length of the cement ledge and the other dangled off the side. With the need to get her to class on time, Harry didn’t have time to ogle her at all. But now, as he approached her, he noted she was wearing a pair of jeans and a pair of trainers. Obviously, her worry about being late to class must have meant she considered sprinting if it got late enough. Her T-shirt was this light orange-pink color. Like she was modeling a sunset. She had a book propped on her thigh and she leaned over reading, like she was simultaneously doing yoga while reading.

“Hey,” he called. Her head perked up and she smiled, putting a bookmark in between the pages and swinging her leg over to say hi.

“Hi!” She chirped excitedly. “I was afraid I missed you when I ran back inside.”

Back inside? He frowned. “Did y’class end early?”

“Yeah... almost a half hour ago,” she shrugged hopping off the ledge. “Syllabus and all. Doesn’t happen that often to me—I’m majoring in accounting and finance, so all my classes just jump right into the lectures and lessons. But this is a sociology class that my other school didn’t offer but I have to take here to graduate,” she explained with an eyeroll. “They were insistent.”

“M’sorry y’had to wait,” he frowned.

“Don’t be sorry,” she smiled. “I got to read a bit and—oh!” She twisted her backpack around her body and into the zip pocket. She retrieved whatever item she was looking for and held it out for him to take. “For walking me,” her voice was so sweet.

Harry felt his jaw fall open just a bit as she placed the Twix bar in his hand. “Twix is my favorite, but I got Starbursts too if that’s more your vibe. Reese’s if you like peanut butter. I wanted a variety just in case and it won’t go to waste regardless—”

“Twix is m’favorite, too,” he said turning the bar over in his hands. He looked up at her as if she really was placed right in his path. Fate. Out of nowhere. Like a star exploding out in the universe and dropping this angel in its spot.

She smiled. “Excellent,” she said. “Where’s Sawyer, then?” She asked while zipping her bag again and heading toward the walkway when he walked her to the building earlier. “I want a good seat,” she reminded him. Since she got him his favorite candy bar—and simply because she existed and was without a doubt going to be his favorite, period—he wanted to make sure she got the seat she wanted.

He wanted to make sure she got whatever she wanted.

*

Was it normal to want to hold someone’s hand like this? Harry’s immediate thought was no. It wasn’t normal. Wanting to hold hands with someone the way he was craving to hold her hand had to be the most abnormal thing in existence. Every Tuesday and Thursday for the next three weeks, he waited outside Livingston, watching her descend the front staircase to the main floor. They chatted the entire ten-minute walk to Sawyer where they shared a math class. She insisted on sitting closer to the front than Harry would ever consider but he was immediately enamored with how sweet she was and there was no way he could let someone else sit beside her.

Tuesdays and Thursdays were slowly becoming his favorite days of the week. They were his weekend even with a packed schedule on the two days. Talking to her was everything he had been longing for the last two years of school.

On Sunday, he slept until almost ten-thirty. He was lying in bed while scrolling through his array of social media and other correspondences. He heard the shower running, so either Sarah or Mitch must have been well after a night of drinking.

Three weeks. After three weeks of pining and walking her to and from class, he got an email on a Sunday.

The subject line read: Be-Twix you and me I’m glad we’re friends. He threw himself out of his bed and paced the main room trying to figure out if it was Mitch or Sarah in the shower. He knocked. “Sarah!”

“Sorry, Harry. She’s sleeping,” Mitch called.

He opened the door anyway. “She emailed me.”

“How 2002 of her,” he snorted.

“You’re useless,” Harry grumbled closing the door shut. He truly considered barging into Mitch’s room and waking Sarah for a girl’s opinion but after doing the very same and seeing way more than he was supposed to of his two friends, he opted for figuring it out himself. He vaguely wondered if there was a way to open an email faster. He must have read it a thousand times and it was only four sentences long.

Hi Harry!

I was wondering if you would want to study for our exam together? I like having someone to study with, but if that’s not your vibe I understand :) Let me know either way! This is my number if you would prefer texting.

Harry thought there were no prettier ten numbers than the ones that formed her phone number. He was immediately ready to text her but luckily had the wherewithal of checking the time stamp of the email to see if he was looking desperate but struggling to care. Fortunately, the email was from a little after seven-thirty.

He could have chatted with her for three hours longer if he hadn’t slept so late.

Hi, it’s Harry 😊

Hi! Glad my email didn’t scare you off. My roommate said that my Twix pun was horrendous.

It’s adorable. Thank you for emailing. I’d love to study. I work until five... I can meet you somewhere?

Do you like coffee?

I love coffee 😊

Do you think it will be cold around five? I’m still getting used to the weather around here. I want to bring a coat.

Harry made a mental note to pack an extra sweatshirt in case she got too cold. Can’t hurt to bring one. You never know what the weather will do around here.

*

Forty minutes a week.

Forty blissful, perfect minutes in the month of September had been spent chatting with the stranger that bumped into her on the first day of the fall semester. The sun was warm despite the breeze chilling her skin. It wasn’t nearly enough time but she somehow managed to fall incredibly hard for him anyway.

It was a bit ridiculous.

Her roommate—and only friend—was also a transfer student. However, Allie was much more outgoing than she was. That wasn’t to say she didn’t have fun; it was just different than how Allie enjoyed herself. Allie made friends everywhere she went. Their off-campus but university-owned apartment was always in flux of visitors from her classes, her club tennis team, or just someone she met while eating lunch in the dining hall between classes.

Allie was a good judge of character though, so she never worried about someone of bad rapport traipsing through their place. Also, Allie was always sure to keep everyone away from her room, of course.

But Allie had no problem flopping on her bed around ten in the morning and nosily glancing over her shoulder. She had left her email open anxiously waiting for a reply from the most handsome guy she had ever had the pleasure of meeting. “Be-Twix?! Sweetie, that’s atrocious,” she rolled her eyes. She groaned in response.

“I... I don’t know,” her face felt hot with shame. She really liked Harry. “It seemed like a good idea at the time... maybe that’s why he’s not answering me,” she frowned.

“Maybe he just sleeps like a normal college student and doesn’t wake up at the ass-crack of dawn,” she said knowingly patting her knee reassuringly.

“Have you seen the leaves?” She whispered almost in awe. “I went for a walk to get a bagel and—”

“I’ve seen them,” Allie smiled with a shake of her head at her silly friend. The adoration she had for little things was admirable, sweet, and just... if Harry Styles broke her heart, she would break his face. “I lived here my whole life, remember?”

But she didn’t live here her whole life. So, she was in awe—her first true fall since she was a toddler that she didn’t even remember. There were pictures of her jumping into a pile of leaves with her mom that her dad had just painstakingly raked. The south didn’t have pretty leaves like this in the fall. Palm leaves didn’t change color other than wilting brown when it was too hot. She intended to spend every minute looking at the beautiful hues of orange, red, and yellow so as not to miss the pretty season she hadn’t gotten to enjoy for most of her life.

After another agonizing thirty minutes of waiting for him to respond (and breathing with sweet relief that he did want to see her later) she told Harry that she was worried about it being cold later in the evening. She had grown up closer to the Tropic of Cancer which was now roughly 15 degrees south of her current latitude. She hated the heat; it made her skin feel dirty and oily with sweat all summer long. Her hair was too thick, her skin naturally too warm. Just thinking about her thighs sticking to her leather car seat in July was horrific.

But her parents had grown up and met here on this pretty autumn-picturesque campus. Somewhere not quite freezing (at least not yet, so she had been told) but not quite suffocating with heat like home. They left here when she was two to situate themselves in Hell’s sauna room. After taking the general requirement classes at a state school, she wanted to transfer up north to the university where her parents fell in love. Call her a hopeless romantic, but if she hadn’t found the love of her life amongst the bathing suit, half-clad guys on the beach during the last two spring breaks, then he probably wasn’t in the south. Instead, she hoped she might find him around the ski slopes.

She hadn’t anticipated finding Harry before her first class started.

Forty minutes.

That was how much time Harry generously gave her outside their shared class combined on Tuesday and Thursday each week.

She wanted more. Greedy with want and didn’t know how to do it without tying it to school. Part of her worried because what if he just pitied her and now didn’t know how to get away from her? They had class together; he couldn’t be rude. Even if he didn’t like her the way she was already falling for him, it was very obvious that Harry was a good person.

“Just be careful,” Allie warned lightly. “Harry has a bit of a reputation I hear.”

She frowned and shrugged. She knew what Allie meant. People around her weren’t exactly subtle and while she listened to music in the dining hall while she ate, or studied in the library, or even just read her book. Those around her whispered. They had seen the pair of them walking to class. Apparently, Harry never looked like that before. The whispers included Harry having plenty of girlfriends. Sometimes two or even three at a time. That just seemed ridiculous, and she felt so sad others talked about him behind his back. There were even quiet bets about how long she would last in the list of Styles’ conquests.

So, she understood that Allie was just trying to look out for her. “Well... I like him. He doesn’t have a reputation around me,” she shrugged. Allie frowned for a moment. She was so sweet.

“Just be careful with your heart,” Allie looked at her with a bit of worry in her eye. But her smile was encouraging. “It’s too good for university guys.”

She had only known Allie about three months longer than she had known Harry. They both moved in at the start of the summer, working off campus and getting to know one another as well as the area (not that it helped her directionally illiterate mind). Allie was lovely and all the things she wanted in a college-best-friend that she never really got from commuting to the local college when she lived down south. “I think you would like him.”

“I can like him and still want someone better for you,” she shrugged leaning in the doorway. She didn’t want to taint the image of perfect Harry. But the stories she heard weren’t easy to ignore. She had seen him at parties since her best friend met him on her way to her sociology class. It was hard to miss him. It was like he was the star of every party.

He drank with his friends and girls obsessed over him. To her friend’s nearly naïve point of view, however, Allie hadn’t seen Harry flirt back. He was helpful and kind to those that drank too much; guiding them outside and gently pulling a girl’s hair back for when she threw up in the shrubs. It was endearing in a lot of ways. But she would still kill him if the rumors of a string of girls was true. If her new best friend was just another notch in his belt, Harry was dead. “You are so sweet to believe in the good in everyone. I just don’t want you to be heartbroken if he isn’t as lovely as you think.”

She smirked looking at the emojis and rapid influx of messages Harry was sending her trying to coordinate timing and picking her up, so she didn’t have to walk. “I won’t,” she promised. But she didn’t say that she thought he was better.

*

Harry was fifteen minutes late. He blamed the table he was waiting on before he left. They were overbearing and wanted their meal comped—that much was obvious. Looking for the smallest hiccups to rebuke him. Harry begged his manager to seat them in another section. Having waited on them before, but no dice. His heart was in his throat wishing he had time to go home and change but he couldn’t. If he was a moment later, he was sure he was ruining everything.

Unaware of Harry’s worry, she waited patiently on the bench outside the apartment building the university had taken as more dorm suites. She continued reading her book trying not to think about how maybe Harry had better things to do than study for a math class on a Sunday. Especially after work. But he had texted her he was running late, and he was on his way.

She was glad she decided on a coat, it wasn’t freezing, but her thick skin ill-suited for hot weather was already thawing and feeling the chill of the early October weather. She spent an embarrassingly long time sorting through her athleisure wear trying to decide. Something suitable for studying at a coffee shop that wasn’t overstated but not quite sweatpants.

Right when she thought about calling Harry, he appeared in front of the bench. Parking and getting out of his car quickly and hurrying to the passenger side. “I am so sorry,” he said hurriedly dragging a hand through his curls. She admired the motion; enjoying how mussing them didn’t matter much and they fell right back into place. She cleared her throat and shook herself out of her own staring at him.

“For what?”

“M’so late, love. S’rude. M’sorry,” he repeated.

“Oh...it’s...it’s really okay. I was already out here—”

“S’cold,” he frowned eyeing her sweatshirt and the coat at her side.

“I’m okay!” She promised. “Is everything alright?” She asked and stepped toward him putting her hand on his forearm. He thought he might explode at the feeling of her skin on his. It was more intimate than their handshake, and she got the feeling she wanted to twine their fingers together again.

Harry seemed to breathe with a sigh of relief, and he looked at her with this stunned expression. She couldn’t figure out why. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Jus’ felt bad being late.”

“Oh,” she blinked. “That’s okay. I wasn’t in a rush or anything—”

“No, love,” he shook his head. “M’sorry because I wanted t’see you so bad,” he sighed. He ran his hand through his hair again making her heart take off at a speed that had to be unsafe for her health. Almost immediately she felt light-headed. He wanted to see her. He just told her that. There was no hiding it. She could feel that emotion thick in his voice.

“Oh,” she repeated, completely stunned and confused. “Really?” She asked in complete shock.

“Yes, very, very much,” he sighed dreamily.

Her cheeks warmed hotly under his gaze. The pair of them stood there. Staring at one another as if they were statues destined to look at one another for all eternity, frozen in time to capture a moment like theirs. The October air was rapidly cooling, but she couldn’t feel anything but heat. Like she had stepped out of the airport terminal back in the south except this heat was not suffocating. It was so welcoming.

For a few moments they just stood there, her hand touching his forearm, gazing at one another. Part of her thought it would be nice to be a statue on the street. At least if Harry was beside her. Eventually, he shook his head ever so slightly and smirked. “So...coffee?”

She cleared her throat, smiling brightly. “Please.”

*

Just one week later, she was chatting with a friend from her sociology class. The moment he saw Harry, he knew Harry was there waiting for her, just as he had been since they met a month earlier. Harry recognized him from attending many parties that his frat hosted at one of the houses someone had off campus. His eyes seemed a bit surprised to see Harry waiting at the bottom of the steps, doing a double take at him waiting for the girl he was walking with down the steps.

“Hey Harry,” the guy said quietly.

“Hi!” She chirped gleefully. Her excited smile felt like too much on her face, but she had no way of knowing. She also didn’t notice the turmoil the guy felt seeing the competition between himself and Harry. (If she did know, she would flat out tell him there was no competition—other than school, Allie, and work, her mind was all about Harry.)

“Hi,” he said politely with a smile and turned toward the person he actually cared about talking to. “Y’ready for math, love?” He asked gently.

“Always,” she started for the main door. “See you around!” she called sweetly over her shoulder.

*

On Saturday, Allie asked if she wanted to go to a party with her. She was more than happy to stay in and read her book. But she teased her. “Harry might be there,” she winked knowingly.

As much as she didn’t pay any attention to the rumors about Harry, it was hard to fully ignore them the way she wanted to. It wasn’t that she distrusted Harry. No, if anything, she believed in him more than anyone else. But it did sound like Harry had a different party persona. She was not a party person. Honestly, she wanted him to have fun they way he wanted to. Going to a party just because he was there...

“That’s alright, I think—”

“Oh, come on!” She smiled sweetly. “I’ll help you get all dolled up and we’ll just have a couple drinks, and we can leave if you hate it. But if Harry is as smitten as you say he is, I bet he won’t let you leave,” she giggled.

Her face warmed at her friend’s assumption and she tried to picture a scenario in which someone as attractive as Harry would worry about little ole her like that. “Isn’t it cold out?”

“So wear another sweater!” Allie rolled her eyes.

“That’s not very college party of me.”

“Well, I would suggest an alcohol blanket, but I feel like getting you drunk before you even see Harry would be bad.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll make me look pretty?” She asked quietly at her friend in the doorway.

“Prettier,” Allie nodded assuredly.

“Alright,” she sighed. “Let’s go to a party.”

*

Allie’s arm was looped through hers. It was freezing out. But honestly it felt nice. She was just a bit shivery. “I thought you said I could wear another sweater.”

“Sweetie, hiding your assets at a party would be criminal.”

She rolled her eyes with a smirk. They entered the door, dodging the guy standing at the door to keep people in and out very quickly. “Hey Allie,” he said.

She waved in response and headed right inside. She thought maybe it was a good thing Allie told her to skip the sweater. The heat inside the house was nearly as warm and humid as the airport terminal. The air was thick with the sour smell of alcohol, weed, and sweat. “I don’t know how people want to hook up with anybody around here. I can’t think of very many places that are less of an aphrodisiac.”

Allie smirked and pushed the pair of them through a throng of bodies toward the kitchen. She grabbed two red cups from the sleeve of them off the counter and asked the makeshift bartender—surely some poor freshmen pledge—to pour them drinks. Her gut felt a little off about the gesture. “I don’t know, Al,” she whispered softly.

“I’ve had them here before,” Allie promised reassuringly. She still wasn’t thrilled with the idea as she took the cup from her friend.

“Hey Allie!” Someone called. Allie turned, looking over her shoulder as she called back over the pounding music. Meanwhile she looked at the liquid sloshing along with the ice. She thought maybe she should have taken her chances with the jungle juice—no one would be stupid enough to touch that, even if it would end with her throwing it all back up at the end of the night.

The pair of them circled around the house, briefly stopping to watch the end of a rousing game of beer pong. The winning person slammed his beer back, dripping along the sides of his mouth triumphantly which made her smile. Allie rolled her eyes and tugged her out back. A bon fire was in the middle of the yard. Another sober freshman pledge, undoubtedly in charge of standing guard. The music was still loud but way less aggressive outside. There were other large groups of people outside as well chattering and drinking away. Allie worked quick; left her alone by the fire—which she was grateful for since it was warm. When Allie returned, she was already sipping her second drink, holding a third, and dropping her empty cup in the trash bin right near the house. Oof, her head was going to kill tomorrow.

“Harry’s here,” Allie whispered to her as she got close to her again. There was a twinge in her knees, like she might fall at the mere thought of him. It took all her self-restraint to not whip around to catch a glimpse of him. She wasn’t playing hard to get, but this was very much not her scene. She didn’t want to intrude on whatever fun he was having. “You should go say hi,” Allie nudged her.

She smirked, wanting to take a sip of her drink but still feeling hesitant so she just put the cup to her lips, like she was pretending to sip it. “Uh...maybe later. I don’t want to interrupt,” she responded directly in Allie’s ear. The good news was she managed to peek over her shoulder to see him standing a little ways away from the fire. It was too dark to make out any specific features or defining muscles but just the way he stood was hot. She felt insane for thinking such a thing, but it was impossible not to. He was so cute. He had one hand in his front pocket, a drink in the other hand, and just a plaid flannel layered over another plaid flannel. His eyes and smile were lost in the dark, but she could picture it. The light evergreen color that was simply her new favorite color along with the pinkest most adorable lips curling across his face and making dimples in his cheeks that would make the Grand Canyon jealous of their depth.

“I think he would probably die if you interrupted,” she snickered.

Briefly, she entertained the idea. She could ask how Harry was doing on his homework, but that wasn’t the best party talk in the world (even if she did want to know). But she was still a little nervous, especially outside class, their walk, and even their study not-quite date to chat with him about anything. A party was more than likely his element. She could see why. Girls were surrounding him ogling very much the same things that she probably ogled on her way to math class. He was easy to talk to, sweet, and of course very handsome.

She shook her head. “Do they have s’mores?” She asked suddenly.

Allie spit her drink back into her cup and laughed. “Jesus Christ,” Allie rolled her eyes. “No; college-students don’t have s’mores at a party.”

She frowned. “I feel like this party would be a lot better if it did,” she grumbled.

Allie wrapped her arm over her shoulder. “Don’t ever change, please,” she kissed her cheek. She laughed lightly.

“If we had a party with a fire, I promise there would be s’mores,” she was very decisive. “It seems sinful to not have them.”

“Hey, love.”

She felt her whole body stiffen and somehow soften at the same time. They both turned to his voice and now she could see in the firelight, that the red colors of his flannel contrasted so sharply with his eyes. The green seemed to amplify—even in the dark. “Hi, Harry,” she smiled sweetly.

“Didn’t know y’would be here.”

“Yeah...uh... this is my best friend and roommate Allie,” she gestured to the girl beside her. “She invited me,” she explained.

“Hi, Harry,” Allie held her hand out. “Heard lots about you. And seen you around a lot,” she said knowingly.

“Hi, Allie,” he said sweetly shaking her hand politely. “Thanks for bringing her,” he grinned winking at her flirtatiously. “Can I steal her from you?” he asked. “If s’alright with you,” he turned back to her, looking into her eyes so deeply she swore he was reading her mind. Not that there were any other thoughts than Harry, Harry, Harry.

“Listen Harry,” Allie said squaring her shoulders.

“Oh my God, Al,” she shoved her back a bit. “Don’t.”

Harry took a step away and looked back at Allie nervously. “This is my best friend,” Allie said with the third drink doing most of the talking.

“Allie!” She hissed.

“I love her so much,” tipsy-Allie was very loving and adoring. A bit flighty too. If she didn’t have a rush of alcohol spinning her blood quickly through her, she might have been a little less aggressive.

“I see,” Harry smiled. “I will take really good care of her Allie. I promise. Y’have nothing t’worry ‘bout,” he shoved a hand back in his pocket. He looked at her shyly, knowing that Harry was also talking directly to her and not just her tipsy best friend. “I should have asked though,” he said with a smile. “D’you...want t’hang out a bit?” He asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, please.”

“How polite,” Allie snickered. Her smile faded rapidly as she glared back at Harry. If she wasn’t so focused on him, she might have missed the way he gulped nervously. “Don’t break her heart, Harry,” she pointed accusingly at him.

“Allie, enough!” She pressed a hand over her face.

“Don’t leave without me, either. I’ll be with my friends,” she said and flitted away as if there was nothing abnormal about her behavior.

“I’m so sorry about her,” she whispered still with a hand over her face. Harry chuckled and shook his head.

“No, s’okay. S’good she cares ‘bout you so much,” he nodded. “I agree completely,” he assured her. “M’really glad t’see you. I was so surprised and distracted...I wasn’t thinking clearly. I should have asked first t’steal y’away...” he glanced at her full cup. “Don’t like your drink?” He asked.

“Um...no, well. Kind of. I’m a little wary of accepting it from someone I don’t know.”

Harry didn’t try to talk her out of how she felt which made her heart flutter more. “S’a good point...d’you want t’walk to the bar down the road?” He asked.

“I’d have to leave Allie,” she smirked. “Not sure I want to put that on someone else.”

“Hold on,” he said and rushed off to the house. It was only a couple minutes, if that. But he reappeared with a can in his hand. “I pulled it out of the fridge when the kid was turned,” he smirked.

She giggled. “My hero,” she laughed and sipped it without fear.

“So... d’you want t’go...find some place quieter t’talk?”

She glanced at the house. “Is there somewhere to talk?” She asked.

“Yeah... m’friend Niall and his friends are hosting. He’s got a keypad lock on his door, and I know the code t’his bedroom.”

“You always try to get girls into your friend’s room?” She asked quirking an eyebrow at him while sipping her drink. He chuckled and shook his head.

“No, s’nothing like that, love. Jus’ want some privacy.”

“Well, that’s fine by me, even by the fire, it’s chilly out here.”

“You’re cold? Here,” he pulled off the top flannel and draped it on her shoulders then put a hand on her lower back to guide her back toward the house. She could feel the stares of others on them as they meandered back. “S’not even winter yet. S’gonna be tough on your southern blood,” he smiled.

She smiled. “My parents are from here. I think there’s some northerner in me yet. Just got to get it out of hibernation.”

Harry chuckled. “You’ll still need a coat, love,” he promised.

If Harry was going to offer his own clothing to her, she wasn’t sure she’d want to bring her own coat at all.

--

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[springgirlshowers]

You’re A Dream, A Burning Star

Summary: A small musician at a venue in Berlin catches Joosts eye, after speaking to her, neither would never expect the next few months to be so intense.

Pairing: Joost Klein x Fem!Reader

WC: 8016

CW: drinking, shitty boyfriends, kissing, yelling, arguing, actually proofread for once, tbh this whole fic is a rollercoaster of emotions…strap in

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON WHO REQUESTED THIS!!! this has probably been the most fun one to write n my longest fic yet, hope it breaks your heart and mends it all at the same time <3 *songfic heavily inspired by this evil ass song*

Sometimes while traveling, Joost would like to go out to smaller venues and watch other live shows of performers he’s never heard of.

The one he was going to tonight, he had already had a show booked there tomorrow night.

He just wanted to get an idea of what it would be like inside, sure he saw the photos of it, but he always preferred seeing things in real life.

The line up tonight was two opening acts, then the main one at a small venue and bar.

The first opening act was your name. He thought it was pretty. As he stood to the side, beer in hand. He watched you enter the stage, obviously nervous.

A pretty face to match a pretty name.

You talked kindly yet a bit frightened into the microphone. You were a bundle of nerves, apologizing for your awkward and nervous behavior, and explained that you were still getting used to these crowds.

He thought it was cute in a way, it reminded of himself when he was just starting out as well.

You talked to the crowd in between your songs. Asking how everyone was feeling and how their night was going, earning cheers from the crowd.

Joost watched as your eyes darted around the crowd as you sang, not in a way of you were trying to let everyone have your attention, but in a way of you were searching for someone.

Eventually your eyes gave up looking and you closed them instead, staring at the crowd for too long would make you even more nervous.

Joost felt like you casted a spell on him the way he couldn’t take his eyes off you. The way your lips moved as you sang sweetly into the mic, the way your hands moved so smoothly across the strings on your guitar, the way you swayed back and forth, how your eyes glistened in the light.

You had him in a trance.

After your short set was done, you exited the stage in such a polite manner. Thanking the crowd repeatedly before grabbing your guitar and case in an organized manner.

Joost would spend the next twenty minutes trying to find you. He knew it seemed a little weird to see you on stage and spend the rest of the night looking for you, like some obsessed fan.

But something in him was aching for him to talk to you.

When he found you, you were leaning against a back wall, watching the end of the second opening act.

Joost came up to you and suddenly he felt as nervous as you looked on stage.

You squinted your eyes at the blonde man for a split second. You had seen him from somewhere.

“I just wanted to say you did amazing on stage. It’s like you casted a spell on the crowd.” The validation made you smile.

“I’m not sure if they were really there for me, I was just the opening act.” You gave him a small shrug in response, too nervous to keep eye contact for long.

“A good amount of people seemed interested. Me included.” He nodded reassuringly.

“That’s very sweet of you to say, but I need to work on my stage presence, I’m moderately good at it.” You let out a nervous laugh.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He said blankly.

“What would you say then?” You questioned, tapping your fingers on your glass.

“I’d say you're exceptional.” A grin slowly took up your face, making your eyes shut and cheeks blush, you looked away.

“That’s a bit of overstatement. I messed up on my third song.” You shrugged, looking down at the cup in your hands. You’ve never gotten so many compliments in a single minute, in your mind you had to double down and keep yourself humbled.

“I didn’t even notice. I thought you sounded perfect.” He said blankly, unbothered.

“That’s very sweet of you…uh, you haven’t told me your name yet.”

“I’m Joost.” He looked puzzled as your jaw dropped, eyes lighting up.

“Now I know where I recognized you from! I’ve heard of you!” You pointed at him.

“You have?” Joost looked at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah, I heard your little song that you did with that guy with the goggles.” You giggled and made a gesture to your eyes.

You were so nice. Joost was praying that was the only song you heard by him and not any of his other popular ones with…suggestive lyrics.

“Yeah, it’s getting pretty popular isn’t it?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. God, you were so sweet. He didn’t want to mess this up.

You looked at your phone again, seeing if there were any new notifications for a text from your boyfriend. There was nothing. You let out a dissatisfied breath and turned it off.

“Are you alright? Are you waiting for someone?” Joost asked as you shoved your phone into your pocket.

“Uh, yeah. My boyfriend said he would show up tonight but I haven’t seen him. I’m wondering if he even bothered to show up at all.” You muttered your last sentence out, still looking around to see if he was there.

Joosts heart fell to his stomach. Of course a pretty girl like you would have a boyfriend. You were talented, kind, and gorgeous. Who wouldn’t fall in love with you?

He stayed silent, giving you a sympathetic frown.

“Anyways, is that why you’re here in Berlin? Your song?” You pipped, changing the subject in hopes to get rid of the knot in your stomach.

“How do you know I’m not from Berlin?” He teased, narrowing his eyes.

“You have a different accent. You pronounce words differently. Plus, we’re talking in Dutch. I’m guessing either you’re from Belgium or the Netherlands.” You shrugged.

“Netherlands.” He nodded, your eyes lit up.

“I knew it! I’ll be there in a few months actually!” You exclaimed happily.

“Really? For tour?”

“Oh not for that. It’ll be over by then.” You waved your hand. “A label in Amsterdam reached out to me and I think I’m gonna take the offer.”

“That’s amazing!” He exclaimed, his face filling up with joy, then he cleared his throat. “Is your boyfriend moving with you?”

Your happy expression faltered, looking down at your drink nervously.

“Um, well he doesn’t think he can. With work and all, but we’re just gonna do long distance.” You pipped, though you tried your best to put on a mask of happiness, the hesitation in your voice was obvious.

Before Joost could get a word out, a male voice was calling your name from the crowd.

A slender man appeared, black hair and tall but shorter than Joost. He ran over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Speak of the devil Joost thought to himself, assuming this was your boyfriend with the way you looked at him.

“Hi sweetheart, I’m so sorry I got caught up with…stuff.” He attempted to give you a kiss on the lips, you accidentally moved your head in time for it to land on your cheek. “When do you go on?” He nodded to the stage.

“My set ended twenty minutes ago, Leon.” You said softly, the hurt and gloom prominent in your voice with your pouty face.

“Really? I thought you didn’t go on til later?” He said surprised, Joost could see through his act.

“I texted you the time I would be going on.” You trailed off, rubbing your arm for comfort.

“Are you sure? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you stranded.”

“It’s fine.” You said sadly, “I’ve already made a friend, this is Joost!” You gestured to Joost. Leon quickly took a protective stance, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close to him.

He was oblivious to the way you tensed up, Joost wasn’t however.

“Hi.” Joost gave a tight lipped smile, feeling the tension in the air.

“Joost makes music as well! He’s been doing it longer than me though.” You pipped, trying to continue on the conversation, slightly leaning away from Leon’s touch.

“Yeah, that’s great. I’m gonna go get a drink, do you wanna come with me?” Leon looked down at you.

“Oh, I’m fine right here. I already have one anyway.” You said happily, unbothered. Leon let out an annoyed breath.

“Why don’t you just come with me.” He spoke, more of a demand than a suggestion. You repeated your first previous sentence and shook your head. Leon removed his arm from around you, grabbing onto your upper arm with his hand, attempting to pull you with him.

“Come on, lets go.” He sounded like an angry father.

“I said I didn’t want to! I’m fine right here, Leon.” You shouted, wriggling your arm out of his grasp.

“Fine, whatever.” He muttered something else as he walked away. You rubbed your upper arm, ignoring the red fingerprints from how rough he was.

“He seems like a jerk.” The words were leaving Joosts mouth before he could realize. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be judging your relationship.” He blinked repeatedly and shook his head, as if he was trying to shake away what he said.

“No, it’s fine. He’s just a bit stubborn and short-tempered sometimes.” You sighed. “So what brought you to this place?” You changed the subject again, wanting to move on.

“Oh, um, I'm performing here tomorrow night, so I’m just getting an idea of what it’s like here tonight.” He shrugged.

“That’s so cool! Maybe I’ll show up and see you.” You suggested, Joost felt anxiety fill him up. His music was the complete opposite to yours.

“Oh no, you don’t have to, I don’t think you’d like mine. It doesn’t seem your style.”

“How do you know? I like trying new things.” You narrowed your eyes at him, playful look on your face.

“Fine. You know what, I’ll get you a backstage pass too so you’re not stuck with the sweaty crowd.”

“I’d like that a lot.” You laughed, the butterflies in Joosts stomach started fluttering again.

Noticing that Leon was taking a bit long to simply order a drink, you craned your head towards the bar, he wasn’t there. You pulled out your phone to text him.

Where’d you go??

Went back to my place. I got to work early tomorrow.

“What happened?” Joost asked, looking at the frown that appeared on your face.

“My boyfriend left. He was supposed to be my ride home.” You scoffed and shook your head in disbelief. “I’ll just take an uber or something, that’s how I got here.” You sighed.

“I could drive you.” Joost blurted out. “I’m not drunk at all, I promise. I’ll walk in a straight line if you need me to.” You chuckled at his offer.

“I’d really appreciate that. I’ll give you some money for the gas you waste on me.” You half jokingly said, already reaching for your wallet. Joost waved a dismissive hand.

“No, no. You don’t have to. You won’t be wasting anything. You can pay me back by showing up tomorrow.” He cut off your protests.

“Deal.” You smiled.

Joost made you let him hold your guitar case as you left the bar, he put it in the backseat of his car. He opened the door on the passengers side for you, which was much more than Leon ever did for you.

The drive to your house was awkward, a bit silent, the only noise being the robotic voice telling the directions to your place on the GPS.

When you reached the parking lot, before opening the door you stopped and turned towards Joost.

“Do you want my number?” Joost nearly choked on his spit at your question.

“W-what?” He sputtered out.

“Do you want my phone number? So you can text me when you’re going on.” You suggested, “Plus, I’d like to be friends too.” You nervously mumbled.

“Are we not already?”

“I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.” You shrugged playfully. He grinned and grabbed his phone, opening messages and letting you type your number in, sending a text so you got the notification on your phone.

“Alright, sweet!” You said happily, stepping out the car, then leaning down a bit to look at him in the driver's seat.

“Thank you, a lot. For being so nice to me tonight.” You said, eyes looking around nervously.

“Yeah, yeah of course. You deserve it.” He praised, your cheeks went red and you looked down. He was giving you all the validation no one really ever did. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Joost.” You smiled and closed the door, waving at him as you walked to your apartment. Joost waited until he saw you enter your place and knew you were safe inside.

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow night.

You were definitely surprised by Joosts music style. You’d only heard one song of his in the past so you didn’t really know what the rest of his would be like.

It was strange seeing him out there, drinking beer on stage and moving around and singing like a madman as you watched from the side. Was this the same sweet guy you were talking to last night?

You didn’t mind however. His songs were catchy and you liked how he didn’t care about how crazy his stage presence was.

It was funny how you both caught your audience's eyes in different ways.

Joosts music was very hyper, fast, danceable. A microphone and a good DJ was what he used. It got the crowd jumping and chanting with him as he ran around on stage.

While yours was the complete opposite. Your music was a bit smoother, softer, flowy. You had your guitar and a sweet voice. The crowd swayed and mouthed along while you sang and stood on stage.

Joost exited the stage after lots of applause and repeated thank yous.

You felt a bit jealous of Joost, he had a bigger and definitely more interacting crowd than yours. You were grateful for what you got, but there was a small wanting inside you for one like his. Interested and excited. You knew it probably took a while for him to get here, as it does with all artists.

Hopefully one day you’d get a crowd as loud as his.

He ran right up to you, covered in a layer of sweat and chest heaving.

“What’d you think?” He asked, still catching his breath.

“I liked it, I think.” You both laughed. “It’s very…loud. Very crazy. But that’s a good thing, you know how to keep everyone entertained.” You complimented him, it was his turn to blush.

“Crazy. I like that.” He nodded proudly.

You walked over together to an empty spot behind the stage. A fold up table, a cooler of beer and different canned drinks sitting next to you.

“Do you want a beer?” Joost offered, you shook your head, telling him you already had a few.

“Well I’m gonna have more.” He laughed and pulled one out the cooler.

“Did it take you a while to get this big? Like with your career?” You spoke out, he looked at you confused.

“Well, kinda. I already had a small social media following before I started making music. So that helped.” He shrugged, taking a sip. “Why do you ask? Are you worried about yours?” It was like he could read your mind.

“Yeah, a bit.” You looked down at your feet. “I’m just scared I’m never gonna get where I want to be. Like I won’t be good enough for this stuff.” You frowned, Joost did too. He set his beer down on the table behind you.

“Hey, don’t say that.” He spoke softly, he brought his hand up to your chin, lifting it with a hooked finger for you to look at him. You breath hitched at the sudden gentle contact.

“You’re good enough. More than good enough. Exceptional. Remember?” You rolled your eyes at his words, he moved his hands to cup your face. “I’m serious! You’ve got an amazing voice. You’re gorgeous, talented, and kind. That’s the type of musician that this world needs.” His words made you smile and blush uncontrollably.

You muttered a small agreement and looked at each other. His eyes were so beautiful, though they were hidden behind his glasses, you could see the gorgeous shade of pale blue they were. It felt hypnotic.

Before you knew it, he was pulling your face to his, kissing you. You were caught off guard, still for a minute. Then you relaxed.

For a moment you pushed back into the kiss. Finding comfort in his lips against yours and his hands holding your face, you rubbed your hands up his chest as you kissed him back. Mouths parting and eloping each other's lips so passionately.

This was wrong. As you draped your arms around his neck Joost knew it was wrong. You had a boyfriend and he kissed you anyways. He couldn’t help it. You were so soft against him. You kissed back. It was pleasurable for the both of you, but it wasn’t right.

Then realization set in of what you were doing, you quickly pulled away.

You looked at each other, both a bit shocked and breathless.

“Oh…Joost. You’re very sweet but I already have someone. You know that.” You admitted as you let out a nervous breathy laugh.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I got a bit ahead of myself.” He quickly apologized.

“It’s okay. We’re both just drunk and being silly.” You giggled and shook your head.

Joost felt the opposite. He didn’t feel drunk at all, he didn't feel silly. He wanted to do that. Maybe it was a little impulsive, but he wanted to kiss you.

“Yeah, my adrenaline got too high. It was just a..” He let out an embarrassed laugh now too. Looking away and running hand through his already messy hair.

“Heat of the moment type of thing?” Your words were meant to sound like a statement, it ended up sounding like more of a question.

You were both lying. Neither of you were drunk. You both enjoyed it. You both wanted to do it. You both meant to do it. Just guilt and embarrassment got in the way.

“God, I'm sorry. W-we can just act like this never happened.” Joost told you, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Yeah, yeah, we can…” You trailed off, you still hadn’t moved your arms. He caught the way you were still gazing at him, eyes flickering to his lips once again.

You cleared your throat and removed your arms from him, crossing them awkwardly.

“Uh, do you need another ride home tonight?”

“Leon’s picking me up, he should be here soon actually.” You shook your head, the guilt starting to become obvious on your face. “I think I’ll just wait outside for him.” You quietly moved past him, looking at the floor.

“I can wait outside with you, for your safety.” He gulped. You turned to him, the corners of your lips slightly curling.

“Are you trying to be my guard dog now?” You joked.

“You could say that, plus I need my after-show smoke.” He shrugged, you scoffed and rolled your eyes playfully. Then waving a hand for him to come along.

As the night got darker the weather got colder, you stood outside the front entrance of the bar as you waited next to Joost. You took in a shaky breath as another cool gust of wind hit. Crossing your arms over each other, feeling the goosebumps.

“Are you cold?” Joost noticed, tilting his head.

“Just a bit.” You tried your best to act unbothered by the wind and what happened a few minutes ago. Joost took off his zip up jacket without a word, holding it out to you.

“No, no, you keep it. I don’t need it.” You waved a dismissive hand. Joost sighed.

“You’re shivering.” He raised his eyebrows at you. You shook your head once again. “Please. I'm still warm from the performance, I'll be fine.” He reassured you, you gave in, taking it and putting it on.

The jacket smelled slightly of cigarettes covered up by fruity cologne. It smelt like him. You felt so comfortable in it then any other clothes you’ve worn.

Joost finally lit his cigarette that had been hanging from his mouth, praying the taste of tobacco would overpower the taste of you in his mouth. It did, somewhat. The taste was still lingering on his tongue.

He made sure to blow smoke in the opposite direction of you, where the wind was going so you wouldn’t get a cloud of tobacco in your face.

You zipped the jacket up as you continued to wait, rubbing your fingers over the rhinestone skull design on it. Smiling.

Leon’s familiar car soon rolled up, parking by the sidewalk.

“You were really great tonight. You were amazing. Exceptional.” You told Joost as you started to slowly move towards your boyfriend's car.

“Thank you.” He was grinning ear to ear.

“Night Joost.” You gave him that signature sweet smile of yours that made him want to melt onto the concrete. He nodded his head and waved as you stepped in the car.

Leon pretended to not see Joost, even though Leon was staring daggers at him. He said nothing to you once you got in until you stopped at the first intersection.

“Any good acts tonight?” He spoke, turning on the right turn signal.

“Oh, yeah. Great ones.”

“That’s great baby, when did you get that jacket?” He took a quick look at your clothes. You looked down, eyes widening for a second.

You were still wearing Joosts jacket. You were wearing another man’s clothes in your boyfriend's car.

“I just found it in the back of my closet the other day.” You shrugged, acting oblivious.

Trying your best to tell yourself it really wasn’t that big of a deal, Joost only gave you his jacket because you were very obviously cold.

It meant nothing. If he hadn’t kissed you, maybe it would’ve meant nothing.

Leon let out a small hum, turning on the radio and saying nothing for the rest of the drive home.

You ended up not seeing Joost for the next four months. You kept in contact over text and one phone call. But you never saw each other in person after that. You never returned his jacket.

For those four months, there was a strange constant yearning, some ache in your chest. You weren’t sure exactly what. Maybe you did know, but just didn’t want to admit it. You convinced yourself it was Leon who you missed, not the other idea you were scared to admit.

Joost had that ache of yearning as well, he knew exactly what. You. He wanted to hear your laugh again, your singing, your voice. He wanted to see your smile, how your cheeks began to ball and blush and how your eyes squinted every time you began to grin.

God, he wanted nothing more but to see you again.

Once you were all settled in your new apartment, with barely any help from Leon, you began to book performances at local bars as you used to do back in Berlin.

Leon promised you he’d be in Amsterdam tonight, he promised he’d be on time and watch your show.

You peeked at the crowd a few minutes before you went on. Looking all over for him, even just a glimpse of him would make you happy. Glad he made it for once. There was no sign.

You pulled out your phone, texting him.

hey where are you??

i go on in like five minutes

are you running late??

A minute before set you got a response, you quickly checked your phone, an instagram notification.

But not from Leon, from Joost. He’d sent a photo. Just as you were about to see what it was, your name was being announced and you had to go on.

The crowd swayed and nodded along to your music. It was nice, you didn’t mind the peaceful crowd, it was what you were aiming for nowadays.

In the middle of one of your shorter songs, you once again started to look around for Leon. You spotted a taller, blonde, man wearing glasses, and hovering over the rest of the crowd with his height.

Joost.

You never told him directly where you were performing, he must’ve seen your name on the list of performers.

You began to smile and giggled for a moment into the mic. That smile and laugh he’s been waiting for what felt like forever to hear again, it made him feel ten times better than he already was.

After several thanks to the audience and putting away your things backstage, you checked your phone once again for any texts from Leon. Still nothing, he hadn’t even read your messages.

You walked out backstage and back into the bar area disappointedly until you saw Joost standing and waiting for you. Two drinks in his hands.

A smile lit up both your faces as you saw each other, yours was weaker than his however, still upset of Leon not showing up.

“Hey! I got you a drink, your mouth is probably pretty dry after all that singing.” He said happily, holding out the drink that was for you.

“Oh God, thank you. I was just about to get one of these.” You grinned as you took your drink from his hand, taking a sip from your straw and letting out a breath of satisfaction at the taste.

“I remember you said that was your favorite, so..” He shrugged and tilted his head as he smiled again. You hoped the dim light in the bar hid the blush taking over your cheeks, he remembered it was your favorite.

That only led you to another saddening thought. Joost remembered more about you than Leon did. He knew your favorite color, favorite drinks, favorite scents, favorite movies, favorite songs of his and yours. If you asked Leon to name any of those, he’d most likely just stare at you and stutter, not knowing.

The problem wasn’t Joost knowing your favorite things and Leon not. It was the fact that Joost remembered. Joost always remembered the times you told him you’d be going on at, or the places you were going to tour, the stories you told, or even the small little details you had in your conversations, that he would bring up in other conversations.

You couldn’t recall a time where you didn’t have to remind Leon multiple times you had a show and giving him the exact address to where it was, just for him to end up there ten or more minutes after your set, or not show up at all. Leon would never buy you your favorite drinks, or even buy you drinks, or buy you flowers, or take you out on dates.

Maybe it was wrong to compare the two men, they both had different lifestyles. But you’d known Joost for just a few months, much less time than Leon, and yet Joost still treated you better than your own boyfriend.

Because he remembered. He actually listened to you.

“You alright?” Joosts voice brought you out of your thoughts, “You looked really sad for a minute there.”

“Oh, uh yeah, I’m alright.” You waved a dismissive hand, put on your best unbothered expression. It was a weak one.

“You’re not a very good liar. I know somethings bothering you.” He teased, you looked down, deciding if you should try to lie more or tell him the truth, “Did Leon not show up?”

You kept your eyes on the ground and nodded, giving him a sad smile. He let out a coo of sympathy. It made the problem worse since Joost already knew what was wrong, he could read you like a book.

You took in a shaky breath when you tried to speak, you shut your eyes, hoping for the tears building up to subside. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry in front of Joost, you didn’t want him to see you like that.

“It’s just been so long since I’ve seen him in person, and he promised he’d be here on time tonight. He won’t answer my texts again, I don’t see him anywhere.” You gestured a weak hand to the bar, no signs of your boyfriend being anywhere in there. Joost made a gloomy face as a few stray tears fell from your eyes, he wanted nothing more to hold you in this moment.

“And he promised to take me to that restaurant I keep talking about afterwards and…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “God, I feel so stupid crying about this.” You looked to the side, wiping the tears away, only for them to be followed by more.

“Hey. You’re not stupid, you were excited about tonight, I’d be disappointed too if a date night like that got canceled. You know, I’d say he’s the stupid one for missing out on a night with you.” Joost leaned in, making you let out a weak laugh.

“Yeah, he’s the stupid one.” You sniffled and let out a weak laugh as you patted your eyes. “None of my makeup is smudged right?”

“No, wait actually, there’s like a small streak right here.” He pointed to a spot under his eye, attempting to give you a visual representation of where it was.

You attempted to wipe it away, missing completely. Looking at him for clarification that you got it.

“Uh, no it’s- here, just let me…” He trailed off as he brought his thumb to the mascara streak, gently smudging the stain away.

It was such a simple act of kindness, yet something about it felt so loving, so intimate.

After a few seconds of insanely intense eye contact, Joost cleared his throat and rubbed his hands.

“There. Oh, do you need a ride home tonight?”

“How many drinks have you had?” You half-joked.

“Just this one.” He held up his beer, you narrowed your eyes at him teasingly, which told him you knew he was lying.

“Okay I had another before this, but I’m barely even tipsy.” He held up his hands in defense.

“Fine.” You gave him a teasing smile.

The drive home was quiet as always. Yet there was no awkward tension between the both of you, just a comfortable silence.

Joost offered to walk you to your door for safety reasons of course, you would’ve said he didn’t need to, but he seemed adamant about it.

You let him walk you to the start of the steps instead.

Joost looked at you while you looked at your feet in perfect rhythm, both small smiles on your faces. While looking down, you didn’t realize that your boyfriend was watching from your window, a scowl on his face.

You stopped at the foot of the stairs, finally looking up at the blonde boy next to you.

“I think I’ll be okay from here. Thanks for the ride.”

“Yeah, any time. If you ever need something you can call me.” Joost fidgeted with his thumbs, a nervous habit of his that you noticed and found cute in a way.

Both your eyes flickered to one another’s lips, a secret aching to close that gap between them. You took in a deep breath, coming back to the present moment.

“I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed. I’ll see you later.” You waved and made your way up the stairs, barely halfway up the stairs he called out your name. You turned with raised brows, a bit confused.

“Um, I just wanted to say…goodnight, Y/N.” Joost gulped, that’s not what he wanted to say.

“Goodnight, Joost.” You said softly, before both headed in the opposite directions.

You unlocked your door with that same feeling of butterflies in your stomach, only for them to go away and be replaced with a tight knot when you saw Leon leaning annoyed against your kitchen counter, a single lamp on in the entire place.

“Leon? What are you-“

“What were you doing with him?” He cut you off, standing up straight.

“What?”

“Don’t act dumb. That fucker you met from the bar, John.” Your eyebrows creased together, confused at the name, then realizing he got it wrong.

“Joost?”

“I didn’t ask for you to correct me. Just tell me why you were with him.” He put his hands on his hips, a defensive stance.

“He was giving me a ride home, since somebody decided to not pick up their phone.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I had a few work calls I needed to make.” He shrugged, unbothered as he told that shitty excuse he always made.

“Yeah. Of course. Work.” You muttered, turning your back to him to take your jacket off.

“Don’t avoid this, you’re always running around with Joost. Have you been messing around with him?”

“No!” You raised your voice, tone filled with disbelief at the fact he would accuse you of cheating.

“Then why are you constantly hanging around him? I see the way you fucking smile and bat your eyes at him.” He pointed a threatening finger.

“Because it feels like he cares about me more than you!” You snapped.

“Bullshit.” Leon scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“It’s not bullshit, it’s the truth. Joost has shown up to more shows of mine than you have! He's always the one who makes sure I get home safe! He’s done a lot more than you ever have.” You lazily gestured at the man in front of you.

“Then why don’t you go fucking go date him! If you love him so much!” Leon threw his arms up in the air.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” You huffed, “I’m saying it’s unbelievable that a complete stranger I met at a bar has taken better care of me than you.”

“Bullshit, I’ve taken care of you.”

“When? Tell me a time!” You shouted at him, waiting a second for a response. Nothing.

“You’ve never given me a jacket when I’ve told you I’m cold, you barely ever take me out on dates, you’ve left me at the bar and made me walk home alone in the dark several times, you’ve never waited for me after a show!” You continued on with your rant “You’ve rarely even shown up to any of my shows!” You threw your arms in the air as your voice grew louder.

“I’ve told you before I get busy!” Another meaningless excuse.

“Busy with what? You’ve never given me a clear answer! It’s always just work! Yet there's never a clear reason! Why can’t you just take some time out of your day to come and see me? You didn’t even come tonight! And you’re in the goddamn country!” You were nearly screaming at him.

“Because you act like I could give a shit about your dumb fucking shows! You think I wanted to travel seven hours to see one of your boring sets?” He yelled at you, voice full of disgust.

You moved your head back in shock, jaw ajar and trembling as you tried to find the words. He shook his head and looked away, as if he was disappointed that you were upset.

“If you didn’t wanna see me, then why’d you even bother traveling here?” You stared at him with watering eyes, if looks could kill, he’d be dead on the floor. “You know what, if you don’t wanna see me, you can just get out.” You spat out, embarrassing angry tears starting to stream down your face.

“What?” Leon quickly whipped his gaze back to yours.

“Get out of my apartment! Get out! Get the fuck out!” You were shouting at him and pushing at him repeatedly, all the way into the hallway. He stumbled out.

You didn’t really know where all this rage came from, maybe it was the pent up frustration and anger from all the previous months, all the missed shows and ignored messages.

“You know what, fuck you! We’re over!” He pointed a defensive finger at you.

“We are over, asshole!” You yelled back at him, confused when you saw, his jaw clench angrily as he looked behind you.

You turned your head to see what he was staring at, it was Joost. Standing there with his mouth ajar and surprised eyes. Your face dropped.

Joost was shocked, standing there frozen. It was shocking to hear your usually soft and sweet spoken voice shouting and screaming curses at the man, watching your gentle hands shoving Leon harshly into the hallway.

Leon marched past you, muttering something and hitting Joost with his shoulder as he pushed past him, turning the corner and disappearing.

You and Joost stared at each other. He watched as your face crinkled in sadness and you let out a sob before turning and walking back into your apartment.

You were embarrassed that Joost saw you in such an angry and vulnerable state.

Joost was planning to come back, to possibly make that confession he’s been wanting to admit for months.

Instead watched you scream at your now ex boyfriend and saw you cry. Yet he still jogged over to your door, stopping you from closing it.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked worriedly, tilting his chin down to try and make eye contact.

“I think you should go, Joost.” You couldn’t look him in the eyes, you stared at his shoes.

“You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

“I want to be.”

“But you don’t deserve-“

“Joost. Please just go home.” You begged, finally looking up at him with your teary eyes. “Please.”

Though your eyes were puffy, red, and mascara was smudged and stained down your pouty face. Joost still thought you were the most beautiful girl, the most beautiful thing to exist he’s ever seen.

“Okay.” He breathed out, the word barely audible with how soft he spoke.

You mumbled out a thank you and an apology before you shut the door, he heard the locks click and rubbed his hands down his face.

Joost felt horrible for you. He felt ashamed too, like it was his fault in some way. Seeing you in that moment, seeing you like that, all he wanted to do was hold you. Cradle you. Comfort you as you cried.

You wanted the same. Yet, you had no idea why you turned him away, why you isolated yourself tonight. Was that really what you needed? Or just what you wanted?

It was radio silence from you for the next two days. You holed yourself up in your apartment, smothering yourself in blankets and sleeping.

You didn’t know why you were taking the breakup so hard, you were unhappy in that relationship. You felt liberated now, but the harsh words Leon spat out at you hit you hard.

What made it worse was that Joost saw you in such an vulnerable moment. You just felt ashamed and embarrassed.

Joost was nervous, he had another gig tonight that you planned to go to, you said that you would go to it when you found out about it a few weeks ago.

You hadn’t answered his texts, the most you did was open the photo he sent from your last performance. It was a zoomed in photo of you standing behind the curtain, text over it saying:

i see u ^_^

It was silly enough to get a small smile out of you.

Though you said you would show up before, he couldn’t find your face in the crowd anyways. After his show, he texted you, asking you where you were. You gave him a short response:

I wasn’t able to show up tonight. I’m really sorry, I’ll make it there next time hopefully.

Joost frowned to himself, he couldn’t blame nor be mad at you for it. He knew breakups were a tough process, he’s already had his own in the past.

He wasn’t upset, but he wasn’t gonna let you continue to isolate yourself.

Joost rocked on his heels nervously after he knocked on your door, a bottle of wine and a few flowers in his hand.

He did another smell check on himself again, hoping the quick shower he took was enough to wash off the sweat from his show.

He heard the footsteps dragging closer to the other side of the door, a small pause before he heard the lock on the door click.

You opened the door as far as possible until the chain lock stopped it, a very sleepy and gloomy looking you appearing through the gap.

“Joost? What’re you doing here?” You asked tiredly, yawning after you spoke.

“I thought you’d want a small pick me up.” He gave a sympathetic smile, holding up the wine. You stared for a second then shut the door. His face dropped. At least he tried.

Another click and the door slowly opened fully. You leaned against the doorframe lazily. The tear stains on your cheeks were now fully prominent in the overhead lights of the hallway.

“Is that just for me to drink sad and all alone?” You joked, Joost really couldn’t tell if you were.

“Well, we could always share. I won’t pass on wine.” He shrugged. Then letting out a cough as he realized he had forgotten his other gift.

“Oh, I also grabbed these.” He held up the few flowers he had in his fist, “I picked these from the bushes outside, I hope you don't mind. I just didn’t want to show up with only alcohol.” He cleared his throat, the flowers were drooping slightly.

You let out a weak breathy laugh as you took the weak flowers from his hands carefully. You took in a deep breath before moving to the side, giving him a reassuring nod to come in.

You grabbed two glasses out as well as a corkscrew while Joost placed the bottle on the counter.

You both drank in silence for a few minutes, Joost nervously tapped his fingers against his glass.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so depressing.” You trailed off, rubbing the side of your face.

“It’s fine. I know the first week is always the worst.”

“Yeah. I feel like I should be happy, he was an…asshole.” You threw a hand up, letting it fall against the counter. “But I dedicated so much of my time to him, for so long, now it just feels like I…”

“Wasted it?” Joost finished your sentence. You nodded, eyes beginning to water again.

“All I ever wanted was just someone to just…just see me.” You breathed out. “Or just love me. God, I sound so pitiful.” You let out a sad laugh, a stray tear escaping from your eye.

“So many people love you.” He reached out his hand, gently holding yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Like who?” You said before taking another sip from your glass. Joost had already finished his.

Me. Joost wanted to say it so badly, but he didn’t know if it was the right way to say it. He didn’t know if it was the right time to admit it, he never knew when the right time

“More than you realize.” He gave you a reassuring smile, then reached behind with his empty hand feeling for the pack in his pockets. “Do you mind if I smoke?” He asked for your approval before pulling the pack out.

“Uh, no. You- we can just go out on the balcony.” You pointed to the sliding doors.

“You smoke?” He raised his brows at you, surprised a shy girl like you would pick up that habit.

“No. No. I just don’t want to send you out there alone. I’d rather not be alone here either.” You mumbled the last sentence out before getting up, moving to the doors, unlocking and sliding one to the side.

Sitting in the balcony chair opposite from yours, Joost lit his cigarette, trying his best to blow the puff of smoke that came out in the opposite direction from you.

The air was colder than ever now that it was the middle of January. You zipped up the jacket you were wearing. That same jacket Joost gave outside the venue all those months ago. He never realized you were wearing it until now.

He wondered how many times you’ve worn it since then.

And you never would tell him you’ve put it on more times then you could count, it had become an item of comfort.

“I’m sorry you had to see me in such an ugly moment. I never wanted you to see me like that.” You sighed out, rubbing your arms. He looked at you, eyebrows knitting together.

“It wasn’t ugly.” Joost spoke softly, smoke exhaling from his mouth. You smiled weakly, taking the compliment but not fully believing it.

“I don’t think anyone has been so kind to me. Not in the way you have.” You looked at him, sniffling. Joosts face fell soft, a sad sympathetic expression on his face.

“Nobody ever kissed me like you did.” You blurted out, mouth moving faster than your brain.

“Do you want me to do it again?” Joost was a bit surprised at his own words, the small amount of alcohol in his system being just enough to give him a confidence boost.

It gave you one as well.

You didn’t give him a verbal response, instead you closed that large space in between you and him. Quickly crashing your lips into his as you held the side of his face.

His mouth tasted of mint toothpaste and tobacco, the taste almost felt addicting.

You pulled away, both shocked by your sudden movement. Joost abandoned his cigarette, not even caring to stomp it out. He wrapped one arm around your back, the other carefully placed on the side of your face as he pulled you onto his lap and closed the gap between your lips.

Your mouths eloped each other, passionate and hungry for one another. Your hands were roaming all over both of your bodies, your hands moving to the back of his head and raking into his hair while his rubbed all around your waist, face, and back.

It was messy, so needy. Yet it wasn’t like any other kiss you’ve had, there was friction but it wasn’t because of the lust you both felt for one another.

It was fueled by love.

After a good moment of your lips being stuck together, you both pulled away, breathless, lips swollen, and amazed.

“This is so silly.” You looked down, giggling to yourself, then calming down and looking back up at him. “But I’m not drunk.” Your voice was breathless.

“I’m not drunk either, I wasn’t last time.” He stared into your eyes, looking like he was enchanted by you. He practically was.

“I wasn’t either.” You admitted, you’ve wanted to admit that for so long. That the first time he kissed you, when you kissed back, it wasn’t in the heat of the moment. It was what you wanted, it was what you wanted when you were sober.

“Is it too early to say I’m in love with you?” He chuckled, his hands still holding the sides of your face.

“It only took you four months, but I’m good with the time being now. You’re a good kisser.” You held your hands over his, your eyes watering not out of sadness, but joy.

You gave him one more kiss before wrapping yourself around him, hiding your grinning face in the crook of his neck.

This is where you stayed for most of the night, intertwined with each other in the moonlight.

Such a cliché scene, but this is both what you’ve been yearning for so so long. And now that ache in your chests is gone.

[veturiusofserra]

when you know, you know | s. r.

𑁤 synopsis: in an interview she opens up about how easy it is to be loved by Spencer, sharing the story of how they met and how his love inspired her music.

𑁤 pairing: spencer reid x singer!reader

𑁤 words: 1.090

𑁤 disclaimer: This was 100% inspired by something my bf said a while ago, and I love the song. I hope you will enjoy it too <3

“As we reach the close of our conversation, one thing’s bugging me. In your song “Margaret,” there’s this line ‘when you know, you know.’ Like, how do you just know someone’s the one? I’ve been through my share of relationships, yet I haven’t experienced that kind of thing you sing about. In your song, it’s all so clear-cut, like you can predict the future. It reminds me of a kid believing in the tooth fairy – sweet idea, maybe not quite real. But that’s probably what makes the song so good. It talks about this perfect love where everything just clicks, and all your worries disappear. Maybe that’s what I’m still looking for, or maybe it’s just for some lucky people. Either way, your song paints such a strong picture of love that it makes me wonder if I’ll ever have a ‘Margaret’ of my own.”

“It’s funny, right? The answer everyone gives is so simple: “you’ll just know.” Like love hits you like a lightning bolt, destiny calls, happily ever after guaranteed. But maybe that’s the problem. We get this picture-perfect idea of love from movies and books, and then we miss the real thing when it’s right under our noses. We set these high expectations, these checklists of what “the one” should be like. And if someone doesn’t tick every box, we write them off. It’s like searching for a flawless diamond, forgetting that even the most beautiful gems have tiny imperfections. Because guess what? We all mess up. You make mistakes, I make mistakes, everyone does. Maybe that’s what makes a real connection so special – accepting someone, flaws and all. Speaking of which, there’s this story I wanted to share with you.”

“We're all ears!”, the interviewer and the crew smile with waiting faces.  

“For the longest time, I believed I was destined to give love, but never receive it.  Maybe because... well, let’s be honest, I can be a bit self-absorbed, lost in my own head and neglecting others. But even with the no love life mantra, there was always this yearning for a family, a deep desire for children I could call my own. The ‘what ifs’ terrified me, though. Would I be a good parent? Would they be happy? Could I provide for them? Eventually, I resigned myself to a life of music, making people happy through my art, having a few friends, maybe a tragically young death – you know, the artist’s curse. 

Then, I found him. We both know Penny, but run in different circles. He’s in law, I’m an artist – about as different as you get, except for maybe a shared love of fancy vocabulary. We met at Penny’s birthday party, and while he claims it was love at first sight for him, I just thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. But that was it. He was too shy to introduce himself, and I was sworn off men at the time. Funny how fate works, right?  We never crossed paths before, but after that night, it seemed like everywhere I turned, there he was. That’s when I decided to take a chance, and boy, I was so scared!

All those stories about soulmates and butterflies? They weren’t for me. Anxiety had been my constant companion for as long as I could remember. Butterflies just meant another battle brewing in my head. What I craved was peace, a steady hand to anchor me until I was ready to set sail. So, I built a friendship with him. We shared secrets, dreams, and vulnerabilities. He turned out to be a brilliant mind, a walking encyclopedia with an IQ of 187. Yet, he never made me feel inferior. He found humor in my quirks, and we seemed to complement each other perfectly. The more time we spent together, the more his words resonated: “We were designed for one another.”

And then, it hit me. Love. Deep, unexpected, and all-encompassing. It felt effortless, a perfect fit. But fear gnawed at me. It was all so new, so unfamiliar. Just as I was drowning in uncertainty, Penny, our mutual friend, reached out. She had something to show me – “Margaret.”

“She wrote it?” she asked, intrigued.

“Well, she started it,” I clarify. “Inspired by him, she penned the first lines that night after the birthday party. She couldn't shake the image of his longing gaze, a sight she’d never witnessed before. It felt sacred, a raw glimpse into his heart. The initial draft, rough around the edges, went something like this: ‘just writing for a friend. My shirt's inside out, and penmanship is messy. He met her on the rooftop, and she wore white. He said, ‘I think I’m in trouble.’ He saw flashes of the future.” A gentle smile graces your lips. 

“Seriously, that’s adorable.”

I nod, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Right? Her words sparked inspiration within me. I wrote the rest, my mind consumed by-”

“By him.” she prompted, leaning in.

“He made love feel simple. Loving me was effortless for him, a stark contrast to the struggle I’d always imagined. It was like breathing, a natural and easy rhythm. He helped me discover the light that had been hiding within me all along.”

“There’s a saying,” the interviewer began, “to be loved is to be changed.”

I smiled. “I prefer a different one: to be loved is to be known. Because maybe, just maybe, he saw the affection within me all along, the part I couldn’t quite see myself.”

“You are indeed full of affection,” she said warmly. “Thank you for sharing this story with us.”

“Thank you for listening. I know it's a cliché, but there truly is someone out there for everyone. You never know what tomorrow holds, but deep down, a tiny spark ignites within us, guiding us towards that love. Trust it.”

“That wraps it up for our interview with the lovely Y/n! But before we say goodbye, there's one more message for her. Can we play it, Jonah?” A nod later, the studio fills with the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hey there, love. Just wanted to say congratulations on the album! You poured your heart and soul into it, and I’m incredibly proud. But hey, can you come home soon? Two days feels like an eternity without you. Miss my other half. Love you tons, sweetheart. And everyone listening, stream Ocean Boulevard! Dex says hi to mom, too.” A meow erupts in the background, eliciting a laugh from you and the studio crew.

thoughts? or prayers idk