#i noticed the door was more open than usual

[king-nyx]

Phoebe was trying to chew on a spoon as she sat in the little high chair that she was given.

Audrey pulled it away, shaking her head fondly. Before the food came, Apollo went to wash his hands.

Audrey watched him go, worried out of her mind.

James knocked her shoulder, "You okay?"

"Worried about him."

.

Apollo washed his hands, feeling more tired than usual. On his way back to the table, he noticed a little balcony off to the side.

It was a perfectly lit balcony, that overlooked the city.

Apollo found a worker asking him if he could have the balcony perfectly empty for a few hours. The worker nodded, telling him to just keep the area clean.

Apollo went back to the table, kissing Audrey's cheek and making her giggle.

"Hello, love," she said turning to him.

He smiled, squeezing her shoulder. He sat beside Delia, smiling at her.

"Delia?" he asked in a quiet voice.

She looked up at him, confused.

"Is it okay if I take your mama for a few minutes? We'll be back?"

Delia blinked at him, "Will uncle James take me to the puppet show?"

"Yes."

"Okay!"

Audrey looked over at them, "What're you whispering about?"

"The puppet show," Apollo said, smiling at her.

James nodded, "It starts in an hour. We'll go see it. Promise."

Lillian smiled, "Puppet show, huh?"

"Yup," James wrapped an arm around her.

Apollo smiled at Audrey, "Sunshine, can you come with me for a second?"

Audrey raised a brow, "Where?"

"Just come with me," Apollo said, taking her hand. He turned to thr table, "Phoebe and Delia in your care?"

"Always," Audrey's father said.

"Just don't traumatise anyone," James said.

Audrey slapped his arm, glaring at him.

She let Apollo lead her away, all the way upstairs and out of the way.

"Close your eyes," he instructed, getting behind her and holding her hand.

Audrey did, giggling, "What is this? A romcom?"

Apollo laughed, opening the door to the balcony and taking her out. He got standing in the middle, still holding her hand.

"Open your eyes," he said softly.

Do you think covid existed in the Season? Do you think that for 2020-2021 Zeus couldn't host two Seasons. He had to wait until 2022 when restrictions finally lifted?

I'm gonna assume that covid didn't exist for my own sanity

[ozarkthedog]

𝐲𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞

summary: being an assistant to a Hollywood star has its perks like attending a lavish holiday event that’s brimming with celebrities.

warnings: fluff! dieter bravo x afab!reader. meet cute? kissing. Christmas vibes. mistletoe. dieter being his usual silly self. w.c: 1.7k

author’s note: this is a gift for @jennaispunk via the @dieterbravobrainrotclub Holiday Gift Exchange! I hope you enjoy this lil’ fic, Jenn! Happy Holidays, lovely! 💙 thank you @sp00kymulderr for hosting!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⋅ 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

It was the kind of holiday party where everything felt just a little bit brighter—lights twinkling from every corner, the smell of cinnamon and pine hanging in the air, laughter rising over soft jazz in the background. A sleek modern mansion nestled in the Hollywood Hills hosting the annual gathering.

You adjusted the straps of your dress while you sat at the bar. It was a sleek dark red velvet number you'd picked up on sale, hoping it'd help you fit into the glamorous party and not stick out like a sore thumb.

You glanced at your phone, scrolling through a few emails you needed to catch up on. As an assistant to one of the hottest new actors in Hollywood, your life was a constant balancing act, but tonight, for once, it was about a bit of relaxation. 

"Feel free to unwind," Your boss says, adjusting their outfit in the back seat of the SUV on the way to the festive soiree. "No need to keep an eye on me. Darren Eigan will be there, so I'll be stuck to him like glue."

You turn in your seat and lean against the bar, surveying the party. From across the room, you spy your boss eagerly chatting up the infamous director. They'd gushed about wanting to work with him for years. You couldn't blame them for trying.

Your eyes scanned the room again as you slowly sipped the tart purple wine. You'd never been a drinker, so the glass felt more like a prop than something to enjoy.

A raucous laugh catches your ear.

He was standing, drinking glass in hand, with a group of people near the opening of a dazzling archway decorated with little sprigs of green mistletoe tied with a bright red bow.

You knew a fake laugh from a mile away. You learned the craft when you moved to LA, having to grace a phony smile and compliment almost every second of the day. 

Dieter Bravo. Hollywood's reluctant star— known for his roles in blockbusters and indie films and winning an oh-so-coveted Oscar. You were surprised to see him at a party like this. He seemed to be the loner kind, much preferring to work on his art than bullshit his night away.

His salt and pepper curls helped prop the shades he wore like a shield, ready to slip the glasses down his hooked nose and sneak out the back door at a moment's notice. The first three buttons on his black silk shirt were left open; his golden skin glowed in the dim room. His black on black attire looked crisp and expensive, like the gray scruff filling his jaw and lining his lips. 

Something was magnetic about him—his presence drew others in without trying or caring.

Someone in the group spoke, and Dieter laughed again. Another half-hearted smile tugged at his lips before falling into a thin, flat line.

You found yourself slipping from your seat and leaving your drink behind as you moved closer. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe because Dieter resonated with your pain. Even in a crowd full of joy and glittering faces, you felt alone.

As you neared the group, your heel caught on an ugly red and green throw rug, making you tumble into the actor and ceasing the chatter.

"Whoa, hey now," Dieter blurts, catching you with one arm.

He weaved it securely around your waist as you both stumbled away from the group. You clutched his broad shoulders, a safe haven if you ever knew one, and steadied your heels back on the ground. Thankfully, his drink didn’t spill all over his suit and your dress.

"You okay?" Dieter's voice was warm and familiar despite the fact you'd had never met him before. His hands lingered on your waist, a wry thumb rubbing the dark butter like velvet, zeroing all his attention on you.

You cleared your throat and bid the flames that fanned your cheeks away. "I'm so sorry. I normally don't wear heels." You apologize. "Pobody's Nerfect!"

Dieter's dark eyes caught like a bright starscape in the sparkling overhead lights as he laughed wholeheartedly at the silly phrase. It was genuine and natural, forcing himself to hold his belly and bowl over with honest laughter.

As he catches his breath, he wipes a tear from his eye. "Did you come up with that?" 

You shrugged and waved a hand, "I wish. I'm not that clever."

"I highly doubt that." the actor comments, before taking a sip of his drink. “You must be someone special to be invited to a party like this." He raises the glass toward the throngs of people filling the massive living room.

You cock your head. "My boss is someone special. Thankfully, they need me like a goose needs a gaggle."

His eyes go wide once more. "There you go again!" 

You wave him off, but inside, you're melting. 

A waiter places a tray of food on a table to your right, distracting the both of you.

"Do you think anyone actually eats these tiny hors d'oeuvres, or are they for like little Christmas elves?" Dieter asked, glancing at a tray of tiny canapés.

You chuckled. "I'm pretty sure they're just to make the people who aren't drinking feel productive. Like, here, eat this, pretend you're having a full meal."

He laughed again. It gets better every time you hear it— it lights up the room. 

"Wanna be productive with me?" he flirts, picking up one of the tiny snacks and holding it out to you with doe eyes.

You quirked a brow, hesitant for a split second before biting into the canapés. It was absurdly delicious for something so small, and you giggled, caught off guard by how natural it felt to talk to him.

"How do you look so... untouchable on screen and so normal off it?" you question without thinking.

Dieter tilted his head, his smile softening. "I'm really good at pretending." He drifts off, eyes wandering to the floor, thoughts drifting to the front of his mind before he takes a healthy swig from his glass. "Sometimes it's nice to escape yourself for a while."

You nod, understanding the need to run away.  

"Are you working on any new art?" You try to lighten the mood, glancing at the red paint under his trimmed nails. "I can't wait for the next mind-bending piece from the one and only Mr. Bravo."

He smiled again, that knowing, almost mischievous look in his eyes. "Wouldn't little Ms. Canapés like to know." he teases, the warmth in his voice holding something more than just casual conversation.

Just then, someone at the bar called his name. Dieter turned his head, briefly distracted by the person waving him over. You take a timid step back, wishing you had more time with the artist, but before you can move, a reveler nudges you toward the archway where the mistletoe hangs.

You glanced at Dieter, who was still distracted by the call but now seemed to have noticed where you were standing. He looked at you with a wry smirk.

"Do you believe in fate?" he queries, his voice suddenly quieter.

You whisper, heart in your throat. "I suppose so."

He takes a step toward you, his leather wing tips shuffle against the floor, and for a moment, the noise of the party fades as the space between you closes. The dim lights cast shadows that make his features even more inviting. There was something in his gaze—something natural and soft that wasn't at all like the characters he portrayed on screen.

Without a word, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that felt like it had been waiting to happen. It wasn't dramatic or rushed, just slow and honest, as though the mistletoe wasn't just some holiday tradition but the beginning of something unexpected.

When you pull away, Dieter smiles again, this time with a hint of surprise. "That was... festive."

You chuckle, a little breathless. "I hope I'm still on Santa's Nice List now."

"The Nice List?" Dieter raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, don't you want to get what you wished for?" You jibe, grin widening as you step back, giving him space to leave.

Dieter snorts, glancing toward the bar as more people wave him over. "Oh, but I already did," he winks.

Your face flames. You bite your cheek, trying your best to not squeal.

The two of you share one last look before the crowd pulls him away. Neither of you could quite shake the moment. 

As the night continued, shared glances from across the room kept you busy. Every conversation with someone new resulted in sincere apologies when you had them repeat what they said because a particular actor kept stealing your attention.

It seemed you distracted him just as much at times. You caught him dragging his eyes down your frame and back up again. He'd either cower like a thief caught red-handed or gaze at you like he wanted to watch the sun come up with you in his bed. 

The crowd of people slowly dwindled down as the clock struck midnight. Much to your dismay, you'd lost sight of Dieter an hour ago when he stepped out onto the back patio for a smoke with a fellow actor. You begrudgingly slipped on your heavy coat, headed down the front steps to the SUV, idling at the curb, and waited for your boss. 

Leaning against the passenger door, you slowly breathe in the crisp night. The heated feelings that swarmed your belly all evening finally simmered to a rolling boil.

"Canapés?" 

You jerk against the metal door as a voice chimes to your right. You clutch your chest with a gasp.

Dieter appears from the shadows, hands raised, like he's dealing with a stray animal. "Shit, sorry, it's only me." He cringes at the slight fear in your eyes.

"You bastard." You curse with a playful huff. "Wait, did you just call me Canapés?"

He flashes an awkward grin and anxiously rubs the back of his neck. "Well, I forgot to ask your name, and I didn't realize until after we kissed, and then I thought it was too late. I don't want to be "that guy."  Dieter mimes quotations in the air and swallows hard. "So, yeah."

You step closer, your heels clink against the cement, as you whisper your name and slink your arms around his shoulders. Dieter once again weaves his hold around your velvet waist, molding your body to his.

His plush lips brush across yours. "We don't have any mistletoe." He states cheekily.

"I would've kissed you without it in the first place." You confess, pressing your lips to his for another precious moment before he breaks the kiss. 

"Wanna go make it on Santa’s Naughty list with me?" 

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[luvleyshif4]

LOST IN TRANSLATION

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: it’s hard to talk to someone American when you don’t know English….so what happens when you meet an American boy who doesn’t know your language either…now you’re stuck with An unexpected meeting, unspoken words, and a connection that lingers…

Warnings: language barriers, reader is Italian, reader doesn’t know English, reader is a barista, tiny bit of awkwardness, based in Florence, possibly mispronunciation of the Italian language, a bit of anxiety (doesn’t have a lot of serious warnings)

Word count: 1.04k words

Authors note: hey guys!! just so you know, I don’t speak Italian at all so there is a possibility that I might have mispronounced the Italian I used in the story, but I really liked writing this one. I was watching a movie the other day and I kind of got the idea from that. hope y’all like it!!! (I want this to happen to me..)

The café in the middle of Florence was quieter than usual today, and the stillness only made the air feel heavier. You shifted behind the counter, the familiar hum of the coffee machine and the soft clink of cups the only sound filling the space. There was a certain unease growing in the pit of your stomach as you worked.

Today, you were alone, with your friend not coming in for their shift. It wasn’t the first time, but it always made you nervous. You were still new at this job, still figuring out the flow, and not being able to rely on someone else was making it a bit harder than usual.

You sighed quietly, trying to shake off the anxiety. It wasn’t like anyone was going to walk in and make things worse, right?

Then, the bell above the door jingled, and your eyes lifted instinctively.

A man walked in. His presence was undeniable—a tall, buzzed-haired figure with striking blue eyes that seemed to hold a spark of something you couldn’t place. He moved with confidence, his gaze sweeping the room, and when it landed on you, it felt like everything else in the café faded into the background. You weren’t sure why, but something about him made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t felt that way before, and it was a bit unsettling. Still, you tried not to let it show as you greeted him.

“Ciao, benvenuto! Cosa posso offrirti oggi?”(Hello, welcome! What can I offer you today?)

He didn’t immediately respond, and after a brief pause, you noticed the slight furrow of his brow. He was looking at you, but you could see the confusion in his eyes. Slowly, he opened his mouth, and his voice was thick with an accent, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian…. Do you speak English?”

Your stomach tightened. Of course, you had already guessed he didn’t speak Italian, but hearing it out loud only made the weight of your nerves feel heavier. You quickly nodded, offering a small smile. “Un po’ di inglese,”( a little English,) you said, your voice shaking just a little. “Not much…”

He looked at you for a moment longer, as though deciding whether to press on. Then, he smiled softly. “No problem,” he said in English, though it was clear that even his words came with some difficulty. “Uhhh… Uno cappuccino?”

You nodded quickly, feeling a small sense of relief that the order was something familiar. “Cappuccino,” you said, trying to keep things simple. The rest was up to you, though. You could make the coffee, but the conversation would be a bit more challenging.

As you began preparing the cappuccino, you could feel his gaze on you. It was like a weight on your skin, but not an uncomfortable one. It was as if he was taking in every small movement you made, and your cheeks flushed under the intensity of it. You tried to focus on the task at hand, but the way he looked at you made it hard to concentrate.

When you hold the cappuccino in front of him, your fingers brushed against his as he took it from your hand, you quickly pulled your hand away, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. He seemed to notice and offered you a gentle shy smile.

You glanced up at him, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. He looked down at the drink, then back at you. “I—uh, I don’t speak Italian very well,” he said again, breaking the silence, “but You….you’re really beautiful…..” he said, his English slow and deliberate, the words lingering in the air.

You blinked, unsure of what he meant.

you didn’t fully understand his words so You tilted your head, unsure how to respond, your nerves coming back tenfold.

He noticed your confusion and chuckled lightly. There was a certain warmth to it, though. He pointed at the small flowerpot sitting on the counter beside you, then back at you, his gaze lingering on your face. “You,” he said, “like this. Beautiful.”

You followed his finger and then looked back at him, finally understanding what he meant. He had compared you to the bright, delicate flowers in the pot, and for some reason, that comparison made your heart race even more. You weren’t sure how to react, but a small shy smile tugged at your lips, and your face flushed redder than before.

“Grazie…”(thank you…) you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. The simple word felt like the only thing you could say in that moment.

He smiled, his expression softening, and there was something in his eyes and the way he too had a rosy tint to his cheeks that made your heart flutter all over again.

The moment stretched for a beat, before he cleared his throat and reached into his pocket. He handed you the money for the cappuccino, and you quickly took it, your fingers brushing his once more. He took a step back and nodded.

“I should go,” he said, though there was a hesitation in his voice. “Maybe… I’ll see you again….”

You nodded, a quiet smile still lingering on your lips. “Ciao,” you said softly.

“Ciao…” he says as he gave you one last smile, a lingering glance before turning and heading toward the door. The bell above the door jingled again as he stepped out, and you stood there for a moment, heart still racing.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, still trying to make sense of the brief but undeniably impactful interaction. There was something about him, something you couldn’t put into words, that made your day feel like it had changed in an instant.

You glanced at the cappuccino machine for a moment, lost in thought, before you shook yourself out of it. Stop thinking, you told yourself. You’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to him.

But maybe, just maybe, you’d see him again…

Authors note: this is honestly so cute that I feel like writing another part to it, but let me know If yall like it and if I should write another part!!!

[autumnheartsprice]

The Hidden

Alpha!Price x Omega!Reader

|gn!reader, no smut, abo dynamics, little but not really angsty, crying, fluff|

An Omega who was a part of the military was rare, nearly non-existent honestly. Weren't even reliable enough to be an assistant on base.

That's why you hid it. After years of mistreatment and abuse of power from your higher-ups, you retired that lifestyle. With a few scent blockers and pheromone perfume to make your scent more like a beta's, you progressed your way to a Sergeant. It wasn't the easiest to have to hide it in front of a team full of Alpha's and a Beta, but that's the only way you'll be able to continue working with them.

That's why, when you were assigned to help your Captain set up a safehouse in the middle of a forest and hours away from base or even any publicity, you didn't bat an eye.

It's day two of setting up the safehouse. After just arriving yesterday, only the smallest things were completed as the hours spent hiking up the mountain to this spot used up all energy from the both of you. You dug through the items that still needed to be sorted and put away, trying to make piles of similar items. Price was outside chopping some wood for the cabin's fireplace, the cool breeze outside only to get worse by nighttime.

Once most of the items found a home somewhere in the small cabin, you started putting together a small dinner of chilli for the both of you to share. Price abruptly opened the door, carrying an armful of logs as he quickly shut the door behind him, the coolness of the air already entering inside, the breeze sending a shiver up your spine.

Price sets the chopped wood by the door, rubbing his hands together before toeing off his boots. "Sorry love, 'tried not to let the cold air in." he muttered as he started taking his jacket off. He noticed your nod, the only form of response from you. He sets his jacket over a chair before walking to the kitchen, eyeing the pot of chilli you were making, before leaning against the counter to where he could see your face. "Ye alright? Haven't said much since we got here." he says, taking notice of your pink cheeks. "Look a bit feverish there, love." He adds, walking over to feel your cheeks with the back of his hand, only to feel your soft skin burning up.

He notices how you tense up and move away from his touch as he feels your cheeks. "I'm fine, sir. Must just be the weather gettin' to me." you explain. You turn the stove off and move the pot to a different burner before grabbing two ceramic bowls for the each of you. His brows furrow in suspicion but decides to let go of it. "Alright, if you say so, Sergeant. I want you to rest up after supper though, you hear me?" He states, leaving no room for rebuttal like you usually would, but you only hum in response.

He watches you only eat a few bites of chilli, only forking at your food before eventually getting up and excusing yourself to the bedroom. He watched you walk away as he finished up his own food, before cleaning up dinner and saving leftovers for it you got hungry later.

It was his night to sleep on the couch since he got the bed last night, although he forgot his charger. Making his way up from the couch with a grunt, he walks to the bedroom, stopping himself from knocking as he thought he heard something. Small whines and whimpers came from the other side of the door, too lost in your own pain to hear his footsteps walk up to the door. His Alpha heart aches at the whimpers, sensing the Beta in distress; he slowly twists the doorknob and lets himself in. The room was pitch black, only the small bedside lamp illuminates a quarter of the room. Your back was facing the door, not sensing him letting himself in.

He makes his way into the room, silently shutting the door behind himself as he walks around the bed and to you. He starts to strongly pick up a sweet scent from you, way too sweet than your usual self, but a bit bitter. He makes his way in front of you, seeing your head put into the palm of your hands. He reaches his hand out to slowly pet your head, only for you to quickly snap your head up at the sudden touch and bare your sharp canines, a low growl coming from deep in your throat before you even realize you were doing it to your Captain, of all people. He moves his hand to scruff the back of your neck and calm you, which works as it usually does with you, but your sweet scent starts to turn more bitter and sour. He finally gets a better look at you, seeing your cheeks flushed with sweat dripping down your forehead, your hair sticking to your face, and pupils wide.

"Jesus Christ, the fuck goin' on with you?" He mutters, expecting a damn good reason for why you look like you just crawled out from the pits of hell itself. He gently puts your hair behind your ear to get it out of your face. You shake your head, acting like you don't know, which very clearly doesn't meet his expectations. "You tell me what the fuck is happening right now. That is not a question, that is an order, Sergeant." He husks out, gripping your jaw and pulling your face up to look at him.

Your eyes start to brim with tears, your chest tightening and getting harder to breathe; he only tightens his grip on your jaw, expecting an answer. "P-Please.. I.. I need you, Alpha.. please, just do something.." You whisper, voice shaking with anxiety as you pull the collar of your sweater down, exposing your inflamed and very red scent gland.

Price lets go of your jaw and steps back, taking in the sight before him. Only Omegas get inflamed scent glands like that... Only Omegas..

He has to force himself to take a deep breath to remain calm, he can't scare you in a state like this. For fucks sake, it'll take hours to even get help to you.

"You.. You're an Omega..?" he slowly asks, taking a step closer to you. He watches as a tear rolls down your cheek as you hesitantly nod. "I-I'm sorry.. I'm so so sorry.." You quickly mumble, hands coming up to cover your face in embarrassment. "Hey.. sh, shh.. it's alright, love.." He whispers, slowly taking your hands in his and pulling them away from your face. "Let me see, okay? Can't help ye if I can't see what I'm working with, lovie, I'll be nice and easy." He soothes you. Gently rubbing the back of one of your hands with his thumb as he uses his other hand to lower your shirt collar again to reveal your scent gland. You unconsciously tilt your head to the side so he can get a better look. He softly runs his thumb over your inflamed gland, causing a pained whimper to leave your mouth and making him pull away.

"Alright, lovie, it's okay, I'm not gonna touch it no more.. Let's take this off of ye, okay?" He explains, carefully taking the fabric of your shirt into his hands, he looks up at you for your consent and with your nod, he gently pulls it up over your head. He brushes your hair behind your shoulder as he thinks.

"Love, I know you haven't been fully honest before, but right now, I need you to tell me the exact truth so that I can help you." He says, a firm tone in the Alpha's voice which makes you whine. "Are you in heat right now or is this from abusing scent blockers?" He asks. He watches as more tears roll down your cheeks, he's sure it's from the stern voice during a vulnerable moment like this or even from just plain embarrassment or pain, but he doesn't have time to worry about emotions than your physical health. He sees you stick up 2 fingers to silently tell him it's the second option and he nods.

He's sat on the bed with you in his lap, your back against his chest, and the two of you both shirtless. He rubs some soothing lotion on your scent gland, having to hold you down as you try to get out of his grasp as you whine in pain. He whispers soft reassuring words as he tries to get you to lay back against him. "C'mon, sweet girl.. it'll be better once I can get this on ye." Which somehow gets you to rest your back against his chest again, earning an "Atta girl." as he starts to continue treating the inflammation.

He gets you to rest for a little bit, almost falling asleep before you start to whimper in agony, trying to claw off your scent glands, before he quickly realizes what you're trying to do and pries your hand away from your neck. He sighs, not knowing what to do anymore to help you besides give it time. He wraps his arms around your chest to pull you back against him, and he starts to pick up that bitter, almost rotting, smell again. "Sweetheart.. ye gonna let yer Alpha scent ye? Hmm? Help make the pain go away?" He murmurs into your ear. He gives you time to think, before he sees you nod and he knows that's the only response you'll give him until you feel better.

He readjusts you on his lap, turning you around so that you're facing him, telling you what to do if you ever want him to stop. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. He nudges his face, telling you to tilt your neck more, which you do. He rubs his scent gland against yours, starting to scent you. He feels your head fall back in relief; He puts a hand behind the back of your head to give you support while continuing to scent you. His gruff beard rubs against your soft neck, reminding him to shave in the morning. He feels his heart ache listening to you whimper and cry on his lap, but he knows it's because it's making you feel better.

You soon fall asleep in his lap, finally feeling comfortable enough. He takes advantage of this and lays down, letting you lay on top of him. He pulls a blanket over the two of you but doesn't turn the lamp off, not wanting to not be able to fully watch you in case of anything.. Or because his Alpha instincts are taking over and want to protect his Omega.

PT. 2?

[nknoxe-n]

⊱ ───.. {⋆𝚄𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗⊱⋆} ..─── ⊰

Synopsis: Rin having an argument with you? Usually doesn't end well and sometimes he says things he doesn't mean... can you forgive him?

Warnings: [angst] [pre established relationship]

w.c 1k

The slam of the door reverberated through the apartment, followed by the suffocating silence that settled in its wake. Your hands trembled as you sat on the edge of the couch, replaying the argument over and over in your mind. Rin’s words had been sharp, calculated to wound, as they always were when he felt cornered.

“I don’t need this,” he’d snapped, his voice colder than you’d ever heard it. “I don’t need you.”

The venom in his words stung, but it wasn’t what hurt the most. It was the look in his eyes—fear, anger, and something deeper, something raw that he couldn’t name. You knew that look. You’d seen it before when he talked about his brother.

Hours passed with no word from him. The apartment felt too big, too quiet, and every passing minute chipped away at your resolve. Part of you wanted to leave, to walk out the door and let him deal with the mess he’d created. But another part of you, the part that knew Rin better than anyone else, told you to stay.

Because Rin Itoshi didn’t know how to fight for people. Not anymore.

When the sound of the door opening echoed through the apartment, you startled. He stepped inside, rain-soaked and ddishevelled his hair plastered to his forehead and his shoulders tense. His gaze darted to the couch where you sat, and for a moment, he froze, his usually cold teal eyes staring into yours with surprise before they flickered away.

“You’re… still here,” he murmured, barely audible over the pounding of the rain outside now beating down on the windows.

You didn’t respond immediately, studying him instead. He wasn’t angry anymore; that much was clear. What replaced it was something far more vulnerable—an aching uncertainty, like he was bracing himself for a blow he’d already decided he deserved.

Rin dropped his duffel bag near the door and stood there, he must've been out training to clear his mind if he'd brought his bag with him, you hadn't even noticed. His fists clenched at his sides, his gaze fixed on the floor. The silence stretched on, and you realized he wasn’t going to say anything.

“Of course I’m still here,” you said softly, your voice breaking the stillness.

His head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours properly for the first time since he’d left. There was something fractured in his expression, as if he couldn’t comprehend the words, that they were a lie rolling off your tongue, just another lie.

“Why?” The question came out rough, almost desperate.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you countered gently, standing and taking a hesitant step toward him. “Rin… what were you expecting? That I’d just walk out and leave because I was mad? That I’d give up on you?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his jaw clenched. His lips parted like he wanted to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he looked away, his shoulders curling inward, the weight of his unspoken fears pressing down on him.

You closed the distance between you, reaching out to gently touch his arm. He flinched at first, but he didn’t pull away.

For a moment, neither of you moved, just standing there in the stillness of the room. Rin’s gaze flickered toward you, but his eyes were distant, unwilling or unable to meet yours fully once again. He wasn’t ready to speak, to form the apology you both knew he should say. His expression was fragile, cracked open in a way he didn’t know how to handle.

Without a word, you gently tugged at his arm, guiding him toward the bedroom, and he followed. There was no need to force him to talk, no need to make him apologize when the weight of his silence was already so heavy. Instead, you simply took care of him.

You pulled a fresh set of clothes from the closet, moving around the room with practised ease. As you helped him change into something dry and warm, his movements were slow, stiff, like he was afraid to move too freely, afraid that if he did, he might scare you off, and you'd finally leave. You didn’t rush him, taking your time, making sure he felt every touch. Your hands brushing against his as you helped him into a cozy sweater, the tips of your fingers dusting his sides.

When you finished, you guided him gently to the bed, tucking him in with soft, deliberate motions like he was a child, usually Rin would've scowled at this action, you were so certain of it you'd never actually even tried before. But now he didn’t resist, just let you move him with the kind of trust he never gave to anyone else. He lay there, still and silent, his eyes downcast, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you. He did regret what he'd said, but he couldn't speak now, he couldn't even force the words out, so he promised himself he'd tell you tomorrow.

You sat beside him, your hand resting lightly on his. For a moment, neither of you said a word. You didn’t need to. There was something unspoken in the air—an understanding, a bond formed in that silence. You weren’t expecting him to say anything right now. You knew Rin didn’t know how to apologize in ways that felt real to him, and he knew that you knew.

So you didn’t push. You simply reassured him.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered softly, your fingers brushing the back of his hand in a comforting rhythm. “I’m here, Rin. I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t respond, and that was okay. His body was tense, still carrying the remnants of the fight, but there was a quiet, almost imperceptible relief in the way he shifted closer to you, just slightly, like he was allowing himself to trust in the safety of your presence.

You stayed there, close to him, not expecting anything more than the silence that wrapped around both of you. His eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion taking over, his breath slowing as the weight of the day, the argument, and the walls he had built slowly began to dissolve in your care.

As you stayed by his side, your thumb tracing small circles on his hand, you understood. There was no need for words. This—you—was all Rin needed right now.

And that, for the moment, was enough.

[gilbertscurls]

The first thing you noticed was the soft glow of winter light filtering through the curtains, its brightness hinting at a fresh blanket of snow outside. The second thing you noticed was the warm smell of something delicious—coffee, cinnamon, and maybe... pancakes?

You stirred beneath the covers, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, just as Matt pushed the door open with his foot, balancing a tray in his hands. His hair was slightly mussed from sleep, but the grin on his face was all energy.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, stepping into the room with exaggerated care.

“What’s this?” you asked, propping yourself up on the pillows.

“Breakfast in bed,” he said proudly, setting the tray on the nightstand and pulling it onto your lap. “Snow day style.”

You looked down at the tray. It held a stack of fluffy pancakes dusted with powdered sugar, a steaming mug of coffee, and a little plate of fruit arranged in the shape of a Christmas tree.

“Matt,” you said, touched by the gesture, “this is adorable.”

“I know,” he replied, climbing into bed beside you. “I have my moments.”

You took a bite of the pancakes and groaned. “Okay, these are amazing. Did you actually make these?”

He gave you a mock-offended look. “What, you think I can’t cook?”

“I think you usually can’t cook,” you teased, laughing when he nudged your shoulder.

“Fair,” he admitted, stealing a piece of fruit from your plate. “But pancakes are my specialty.”

The two of you lingered in bed longer than usual, sharing breakfast and laughing as Matt told you about how he’d almost burned the first batch. When the tray was empty and the coffee cups drained, he sat up and clapped his hands.

“Alright,” he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Time for phase two of the snow day plan.”

“Phase two?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned. “You’ll see.”

The rest of the day unfolded like something out of a holiday dream. You bundled up in cozy sweaters and thick socks to decorate cookies, Matt insisting on turning them into “artistic masterpieces” that ended up being more funny than festive. (“That’s supposed to be a reindeer,” he explained, holding up a cookie that looked more like a lopsided dog. “Obviously.”)

Later, you ventured outside, the snow crunching beneath your boots as you helped Matt build a snowman in the yard. It started as a simple snowman but quickly turned into a competition over who could add the most ridiculous accessories. By the time you were done, the snowman sported a pair of sunglasses, a scarf made of mismatched socks, and a crooked paper crown.

“We’ve outdone ourselves,” Matt said, stepping back to admire your handiwork.

“Pure genius,” you agreed, laughing as you brushed snow off your gloves.

As the day turned to evening, Matt lit a fire in the living room, and the two of you curled up on the couch under a thick blanket, mugs of hot chocolate in hand. The glow of the fireplace cast a warm light over the room, and the faint sound of Christmas music played from the speakers.

“This,” you said softly, leaning your head against Matt’s shoulder, “is perfect.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his arm wrapping around you. “Told you. Simple traditions, best day ever.”

You smiled, closing your eyes and letting the warmth of the fire and the steady rhythm of Matt’s heartbeat lull you into a sense of pure contentment. It was a day filled with little things—pancakes, snowmen, and laughter—but as you sat there in the quiet glow of the evening, you knew it was a day you’d never forget.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim

[abnormalshark]

Jinx x reader (self harm comfort!) **NOT PROOFREAD!!!*

Synopsis: After a long day, you’re taken by surprise as your girlfriend Jinx comes home earlier than usual.

TW: SH, BLOOD, BLADES, ECT

It was a cold and quiet evening. Jinx was long gone for the night. Probably off in her workspace deeply absorbed in her creations. Although you supported her wholeheartedly You really did start to dread the lonely nights.

The thoughts in your head swarm at the dead of night like moths swarming to a dirty streetlight. The goosebumps on your arms multiplying as the ice cold blade pierces your skin.

“it’s the only thing that helps!”

“no one has to know.”

“Just this last time and I’ll quit.”

Those are the thoughts that plague you. Denial and reason bickering in your mind as the warm blood drips down your arm.

You exhale shakily but relieved as the pain from the cut forcefully takes your minds attention away from all of your insecurities and worries.

You’re lost in paradise. It feels nice not to think about it. Your legs feel like jelly and your hands shaking terribly as you try to hold up the towel tightly against your arm.

It doesn’t take long for you to start up again. Your soft fingers pick up the blade and you inhale deeply. Closing your eyes and taking in the moment. The blade makes contact once more. You open your eyes as Your pupils dilate at the sight.

“Y/n? what are you doing?” A raspy voice catches you by surprise. You raise your eyes towards the mirror in front of you. It’s her. Your girlfriend. Standing ever so comfortably against the door frame.

Suddenly your body starts to move grabbing nearly everything in sight trying to hide it from her view. Tears start to dribble out of your eyes. “F-Fuck! I- listen I just- I-“ your sentences turn into words and soon enough your words turn into intolerable sounds. However, you’re immediately brought back when jinx’s cold hands touch your shoulder.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve dealt with this stuff too ya know… I know how to help.” She takes your arm without warning and starts to clean it. Occasionally she’d respond with a tiny ‘ow sorry’ when you wince. “I- I don’t know I just-“ you take a deep breath to gather your words. “I know you have your own problems and I just have all these thoughts in my head that won’t stop.” Your shaky voice spews out.

“You dummy…” jinx’s eyes look yearningly at yours. “That doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.” She mumbles. She sounds as if she might cry just watching you in pain.

You can’t help but notice your girlfriend looks rather cute from this perspective. Worried and concerned yet… so calm.

“I love you” the words burst out of your mouth. You didn’t expect them to come out but you’re not upset that they did.

Jinx lets out a hearty chuckle. She kisses you ever so gently as she rubs her thumb over the bandages on your arm. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

She gets up alarmingly fast. Eyes closed as she stretches her arms up towards the ceiling. “C’mon, we better go before Isha tries to break the laws of physics and magically put her ear through the door.”

She laughs and smiles warmly at you. “By the way… I am going to bug you about your feelings later. You’re not off the hook yet, ‘Kay?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　

! Idk I legit wrote it half asleep but hope you still enjoyed it!! Merry christmas everyone!!

[mattsobvimyfav]

roommates (matthew sturniolo)

pt 19 -

Thanksgiving break had finally arrived, and I couldn’t pack my bags fast enough. The thought of heading home to spend time with my dad filled me with so much excitement that I barely noticed Chris and Matt walk in the dorm.

“Jesus fucking christ.” Chris said, pointing to the pile I’d stacked near the door.

“Yeah, no shit,” Matt added, leaning against his bed. “Are you moving home permanently?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m just prepared, okay? Unlike you guys. What are you taking home, one hoodie and a pair of sweatpants?”

Chris grinned. “Pretty much, yeah.”

I couldn’t wait to spend uninterrupted time with my dad, cooking, watching football, and enjoying the comfort of home.

“Actually,” Matt said, breaking my train of thought, “since we’re all gonna be home, we should film a car video the day after Thanksgiving. Nick got home this morning.”

Chris perked up. “Yeah, it was really fun when you did the Q&A with us. Nick would kill us if we didn’t invite you.”

I smiled at the idea. “I’m in. But only if I get shotgun.”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Chris said quickly, shaking his head. “The fans know that's my seat.”

“Unbelievable,” I teased, throwing a hoodie into my bag.

Chris chuckled. “Snacks are on us, though.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder, glancing at both of them. “Fine. Friday it is. Don’t let me down on the snacks.” Matt and Chris each grabbed one of my bags and their own.

The boys had grown even more in the past weeks on youtube, they are at around two hundred thousand subscribers. I haven't been in a video since the q&a.

As we all headed out of the dorm to load up our cars, Matt glanced over. “Bet you’re excited to see your dad, huh?”

“More than anything,” I said with a soft smile. 

Chris grinned. “Enjoy it while it lasts. You're free from us until Friday.”

I laughed, waving them off as I got into my car. Heading home to my dad.

As soon as I pulled into the driveway of my childhood home, a wave of relief washed over me. The house looked the same as it always did. I barely had the car in park before my dad stepped out onto the porch, his arms wide open.

“Honey!” he called, his voice filled with excitement.

“Dad!” I shouted back, rushing up the steps and into his embrace. His hugs always made everything else fade away, no matter how stressful life had been.

“You’re home,” he said, holding me tight for an extra second before pulling back to look at me. “How’s my girl?”

“Better now,” I said honestly. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, kiddo.” He grabbed my bags from the car, insisting I didn’t have to lift a finger, and brought them inside.

Once my bags were dropped in my room, my dad clapped his hands together. “So, what do you say we go out for dinner tonight? My treat. Anywhere you want.”

I grinned. “How about… Kingsleys?”

“You read my mind,” he said with a wink.

“Good, lets go,” I said, already grabbing my coat.

The waitress recognized us immediately and greeted us like old friends. We slid into a booth near the window, and my dad wasted no time ordering a coffee while I looked over the menu.

“So,” he started, leaning back in the booth. “What’s new? How’s school?”

“It’s… been a lot,” I admitted, stirring my water with a straw. “But good. Mostly good.”

He gave me a knowing look. “Mostly?”

I hesitated, not wanting to dive into the bad that had been my life lately. “You know, just the usual. Classes, making friends, figuring it all out.”

He nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t buying it entirely, but he knew if I wanted to tell him I would “Well, you’re strong. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

When the food came, we both dove in, chatting between bites. He told me about work, his recent golf games, and a new neighbor who’d moved in down the street. I told him about my classes—leaving out all the drama.

By the time we left the diner, I felt lighter. Being with my dad always had that effect on me. As we walked to the car, he draped an arm around my shoulders.

“I’m proud of you, honey,” he said softly.

That one sentence made the entire trip home worth it. 

“Thanks, Dad. I’m proud of you too.”

The ride home was filled with music and easy conversation. Once we got back, we settled into the living room, 

We were lounging on the couch in the living room. My dad had just hit play on one of his favorite old Westerns when his phone buzzed on the side table. He leaned over to grab it, squinting at the screen.

“Who’s texting you this late?” I teased, stretching my legs out across the couch.

He chuckled. “It’s Jimmy.”

At the mention of Matt, Chris, and Nick’s dad, I sat up a little straighter. “What’s he saying?”

My dad raised an eyebrow as he read the message. “Apparently, Matt and Chris have been talking about you. They want us to come to their big Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Wait, what? Why?”

“I don’t know, honey,” he said, holding up his phone like I could read the screen from across the room. “But Jimmy says they’ve been going on about you and he and Mary Lou wanted to invite us.”

I frowned, conflicted. After everything that had happened, the idea of sitting at a dinner table with Matt and Chris felt… complicated. Sure the past month between us has been fine but bringing family into it was a whole different thing.

My dad must’ve seen the hesitation on my face because he set his phone down and gave me a reassuring look. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. It’s your call, honey.”

I bit my lip, my mind racing. “I dont know”

He nodded, respecting my boundaries like he always did. “Well, think about it. Might be fun. And you know how much I love Thanksgiving food.”

I laughed softly. “You really can’t resist a good turkey, huh?”

“Guilty as charged,” he said with a grin.

“I’ll let you know in the morning,” I finally said.

I watched my dad as he set his phone down, a somewhat upset look on his face. It hit me then, how long it had been since we’d shared a Thanksgiving dinner with anyone besides each other. Not since my mom left. The idea of being around a big family again made my heart ache a little, but it also made me happy thinking about my dad having people around him.

“You know what?” I said, sitting up. “Let’s do it.”

His eyebrows shot up in happiness. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nodded firmly, a small smile tugging at my lips. “It’ll be fun. We haven’t done anything like this in forever. And it’s not just for me, it’ll be good for you too.”

He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made me smile even wider. “Honey, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m not worrying,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I just… I think we should go. Jimmy’s always been good to you, It’s nice. Feels like the right thing to do.”

He tilted his head, studying me for a moment before giving a slow nod. “Alright then. We’ll go.”

I grinned “You better be ready to charm the room tomorrow. I’m not letting you sit in the corner like an antisocial weirdo.”

He laughed again, his face lighting up in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time. “No promises”

The next morning, the house was filled with a calm buzz of preparation. I stood in front of my small vanity, eyeing the outfit I had carefully picked out the night before. A loose white sweater paired with a tight black skirt that laid neatly on the bed, along with black sheer tights, white socks, and my favorite pair of black Converse. Simple but put together.

I slipped on the skirt, smoothing it down over the tights before tugging the sweater over my head. I grabbed my curling iron and added loose waves to my hair, the curls falling softly over my shoulders. I fluffed them out a bit for volume before stepping back to examine the final result in the mirror. 

As I laced up my Converse, my dad knocked lightly on my door and peeked his head in. “You ready, honey?”

“Just about,” I said, standing up and grabbing my phone. “How do I look?”

He gave me a once-over and smiled warmly. “Beautiful. They’ll be lucky to have you there.”

I rolled my eyes playfully but couldn’t hide the grin spreading across my face. “Thanks, Dad. Let’s go before you get sentimental.”

We grabbed our coats and headed out the door, the crisp November air biting at my cheeks as we climbed into the car. I felt a mix of nerves and excitement fluttering in my stomach as we drove to the Sturniolo house. 

Once we got to their house my dad knocked on the door. My dad and Jimmy shared a handshake and a chuckle, their longtime bond evident in the way they exchanged knowing looks. 

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you,” Jimmy said warmly as he greeted me with a big hug, his presence welcoming. “You’ve grown up so fast, Last time I really saw you was in diapers.” He said.

My dad chuckled and gave me a playful nudge. “It’s true. She’s a little too grown up for my liking.”

Jimmy laughed heartily and patted my dad on the back. “I get it, buddy. But she’s doing well, right?”

“She is,” my dad replied, his voice filled with pride. “She’s been keeping busy with school. It’s nice to finally have some time to relax and visit.”

Mary Lou came over, greeting us both with her characteristic warmth. “Y/N, you look wonderful!,” she said, turning to my father with a smile. “It’s so great to finally see you again!”

“Thank you for having us,” my dad replied, shaking her hand. “It means a lot. Y/N and I could use a good Thanksgiving this year.”

“I’m just happy we could make it happen,” Mary Lou said, beaming. “And we’re glad you could join us.”

As I followed my dad inside, I could see how at ease he was in this familiar environment. It was clear that Jimmy and my dad had a special, long-lasting friendship. They went to school together and worked together right out of graduation.

After some more warm greetings, Jimmy called the boys upstairs. “Boys grab Justin and bring him downstairs. Dinner’s almost ready!”

I caught sight of Justin walking down the stairs, and we exchanged a quick hug. “Long time, no see,” he said with a grin. “How’s school?”

“Busy, but good.” I replied.

We made our way to the dining room, where the table was set beautifully. As we sat down, Matt made his way sitting next to me and nudged me with his shoulder.

“Sorry, Chris and Nick’s idea” he whispered while everyone passed around food.

“Just admit you missed seeing me and couldn't wait till friday” I winked and passed him the rolls.

“You wish, sweetheart” I rolled my eyes at him and turned to listen to everyone's small talk and join in on some conversations.

After dinner, the boys invited me upstairs to hang out for a bit. We all settled into their room, laughing and chatting about everything from school to random things that had happened throughout the week. 

“Y/N, you ready to head out?” My dad yelled up the stairs, sounding a little tired but still upbeat.

I stood up, stretching. “Yeah, I’ll be down in a second!” I called back, feeling a little reluctant to leave but knowing I should head home.

As I started to head downstairs, Matt followed me. When we reached the bottom, my dad was waiting in the living room, ready to go.

He smiled at me, his hands in his pockets. “Alright, honey, let’s get going. It’s been a long day.”

Matt, who had been hovering near the doorway, spoke up. “Hey, if you want to stay longer, I can drive her home later,” he said casually, glancing between my dad and me.

I hesitated, looking between the two of them. “Thanks, Matt, but I think I’ll go with my dad tonight,” I said, offering a small smile.

Before I could head for the door, my dad raised a hand. “You know what? Why don’t you stay? I’ll head out. You're young, stay and have fun,” he said, a warm smile on his face. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

I glanced back at Matt, who was looking at me with a raised brow. “You sure?” I asked my dad.

“Yeah, absolutely,” my dad assured me. “Have a good time, and I’ll get going. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

I looked at Matt again, and he gave me a reassuring nod. “You don’t have to worry about getting home, Y/N. I’ve got you covered whenever you’re ready to head back,” he said with a small grin.

With a deep breath, I looked at my dad and smiled. “Okay, I’ll stay,” I said, feeling a little bad I wasn't going home with him.

“Sounds good,” my dad said with a chuckle, heading toward the door. “Enjoy yourselves, both of you.”

I gave him a hug and waved him off before turning back to Matt “You want me so bad, its insane”

Matt laughed “You know I do, I'm just waiting on you”

“Maybe you'll get lucky tonight” I winked at him before running past him up the stairs.

Around 10 PM, I finally decided it was time to head home. I had stayed later than I intended, but it had been a good night. I turned to Matt, who was talking to the guys. “I think I’m ready to go now,” I said, slipping my coat on. I gave Nick, Chris and Justin a quick hug.

He looked up and smiled, standing up. “Alright, let’s head out.” We made our way to the door, Matt grabbing his coat, and walked outside to his car.

The drive was easy and relaxed, just the two of us talking about random things. We discussed what we needed for the dorm. It was a comfortable silence in between the chatter.

When we finally pulled up to my house, I turned to Matt and smiled, “Thanks for bringing me home,” I said, feeling a warmth in my chest. “I had a really good time.”

He looked over at me, the car engine still idling, and for a moment, there was a long pause. His eyes met mine, and I could feel the tension building between us. Without really thinking about it, I leaned over and kissed him, my lips pressing against his with a softness that quickly turned into something more.

The kiss deepened as Matt grabbed my face, pulling me closer, and I felt my heart race. When we finally pulled apart, breathless, he leaned back slightly, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite place. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that for weeks now,” he murmured, his voice low and full of desire.

I smiled at him, my lips tingling from the kiss. “Well, I guess it’s about time then,” I said softly, running my hand over his cheek.

I paused for a second, feeling a spark of boldness. “You wanna come inside? Maybe stay the night?” I asked, my heart pounding, unsure of what he might say.

Matt hesitated, looking at me for a moment, before his lips curled into a smirk. “Are you sure? You know I’m not gonna leave after that,” he teased,

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, my voice quieter now. “I want you to stay.”

He leaned over and kissed me again, this time with even more urgency, and I felt a rush of excitement. “Alright, I’m in,” 

We both got out of the car, and I led him inside, “Dad, is it ok if Matt stays the night? We want to just watch a movie and chill in my room?” I asked my dad who was sitting on the couch watching his own movie.

“Sure, Matt. Watch yourself in this house.” I rolled my eyes knowing my dad fully didn't care.

“Of course sir” I grabbed Matt's hand dragging him towards the stairs excited to have him to myself for the night.

Tag -

@namelesssav @christmastreecake

@chrisstopherfilmed @mattsturnii @sturnrc @larnieboox88

@tbfaptbfae @2muchofaslvt @sturnioloshottiekay

@rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @realuvrrr @sophia-77n @ch0llies

[suunani]

pieces of myself ( hwang intak )

▍ intak reminds you that you’re enough as you are.

content: 1600 words, male reader, added member!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, boyfriend!intak, reader is having a breakdown, intak is the biggest sweetheart.

the dressing room was colder than usual.

the harsh overhead lights flickered softly, casting long, silent shadows across the space.

it felt like time was moving in slow motion. your breath coming out in shallow, uneven gasps as you sat at the vanity, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

you had just finished another successful concert with the boys, another night of applause, screams, and flashing cameras. but all you could hear now, in the quiet aftermath, was the pounding in your chest.

the image staring back at you wasn't really you anymore.

the stage lights had dimmed, but the hollow feeling in your chest hadn't. you had spent hours perfecting that flawless image — perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect posture. the boy the fans adored, the boy the company demanded you be.

but who was the real you?

who were you when the lights were off?

you had been suffocating for so long. the constant pressure, the weight of expectations from the fans, the industry, and — perhaps most of all — the pressure you put on yourself to meet them.

there were days when the smile you wore in front of the cameras felt like it was carved into your face, like a mask you couldn't remove. and every day, the weight of the mask felt heavier.

but today? today, it felt unbearable.

the knock on the door broke the silence, but you didn't move.

you didn't want to face anyone, least of all the one person who always made you feel like you were more than just the idol everyone expected you to be.

"y/n? are you in there?" it was intak, his voice low but filled with concern.

you swallowed, trying to steady your breath, trying to put on a face for him.

"yeah, i'm fine," you said quickly, the lie tasting bitter in your mouth.

you hadn't been fine for a while now, but saying it out loud made it feel real.

the door creaked open, and in he walked.

his eyes instantly fell on you. you hadn't even turned your face toward him, but the way he stood there, so still, so patient, told you everything you needed to know.

he had known something was wrong the moment you'd entered the building, and he hadn't stopped looking for you since. he'd noticed the way you'd withdrawn into yourself during the performance, the way your usual spark seemed dulled.

but intak wasn't the type to push when you weren't ready, so he waited. but now, seeing the emptiness in your eyes, he couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"y/n..." his voice was so soft, so full of empathy. "what's going on?"

you hated the way your throat closed at his words, how they made everything inside you feel more fragile, more exposed.

you had tried so hard to keep everything locked inside, but in front of him, it felt like it was all coming apart.

"i'm fine," you repeated, your voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"no, you're not," intak stepped closer, his voice gentle but firm. "you don't have to keep pretending with me, y/n. please, talk to me. what's going on?"

you could feel your chest tightening, the familiar sensation of a breakdown creeping up.

but you held it back, like you always did.

you couldn't let him see you like this. you couldn't show him the weakness, the cracks in the perfect image you were supposed to embody.

"i just need a minute," you said, your voice strained, desperate to push him away so you wouldn't have to face the pain.

but intak wasn't backing off.

he knelt beside you, his expression softening as he reached out to touch your arm.

"it's okay. you don't have to do this alone. you're not weak, y/n. you're allowed to break sometimes. but you don't have to carry all of this on your own."

the words were like a bomb going off inside of you. the dam you had spent so long building finally cracked.

you didn't want to cry. you didn't want to fall apart in front of him, but the moment intak touched you, his warmth, his concern, the tears flooded out.

you couldn't stop them.

"i... i don't know what's wrong with me, intak," you whispered, voice breaking with the weight of all the fear you'd been holding in. "i'm supposed to be perfect. i'm supposed to be this idol that everyone looks up to, but i can't keep doing it anymore. i'm so tired. i'm just so... tired."

your body shook with the force of your sobs, the overwhelming exhaustion finally spilling over. you felt like you were suffocating under the pressure.

the company, the fans, the endless expectations. it all felt so far removed from who you were as a person. you had always done your best to keep up the image. smiling, laughing, always giving more than you thought you had.

but now? now you didn't even know who you were.

intak didn't say anything for a moment. he just sat there, quietly watching you, as if giving you the space to let it all out. his hand remained on your shoulder, his touch reassuring but gentle.

"you don't have to be perfect, y/n."

he finally whispered, his voice filled with such tenderness that it almost felt like he was trying to heal the broken pieces of you.

"you don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. it's okay to be tired. it's okay to need a break. you're allowed to be human."

"i'm not perfect," you gasped through your sobs, shaking your head as though the words themselves physically hurt. "i'm so scared that one day i'm going to wake up and everything will come crashing down. what if they hate me? what if they don't love me for who i really am?"

intak's hand tightened on your shoulder, and you could feel the ache in his chest, too, as if hearing the depth of your pain hurt him just as much as it hurt you.

it was breaking him, but he wasn't going anywhere. he couldn't leave you like this.

"y/n, listen to me," he said softly, lifting your chin so that you had to look at him.

his eyes were filled with so much emotion that it made your heart ache.

"i don't care if you're perfect. i don't care about the image the company created for you or what anyone expects. you're enough. just as you are."

you shook your head, unable to accept his words. you didn't believe them.

not when you felt so far removed from the person everyone thought you were. the real you. the person that had been buried under layers of expectation. the person who didn't even know if they could go on pretending anymore.

"i'm not enough," you whispered, broken. "i'm not good enough for you. i'm not good enough for anyone."

you could feel your chest constricting again, the weight of your self-doubt pressing down on you like a vice.

intak's eyes filled with anguish, his face scrunching up with the emotion he couldn't hide. it physically hurt him to see you like this, to see the person he loved so much torn apart by invisible forces.

"y/n," he said, his voice shaking now. "you are more than enough. don't you get it? i'm not with you because of your image. i'm not with you because of the fans. i'm with you because i love you. the real you. the person who cares so much for others, the person who makes me laugh when i'm down, the person who gets frustrated with the smallest mistakes and pushes himself to do better. you're perfect in the way that matters. you're perfect to me."

his words, raw and sincere, were like a balm to the wound in your heart. but even as he spoke them, you couldn't fully believe them.

the weight of everything you were carrying felt too heavy. the fear that you weren't worthy of his love, the fear that one day everything would come crashing down, clouded your mind.

the pressure was suffocating.

"i don't know how to be that person anymore," you admitted, your voice barely audible. "i don't know who i am without all of this. without the image, the expectations. i don't even recognize myself anymore. i just feel so... lost."

intak's heart broke even further, and before you could say anything else, he pulled you into his arms.

it was a tight, protective hug, the kind that wrapped around you like a shield, like he would never let go. he buried his face in your hair, holding you as if he could absorb all of your pain and exhaustion into himself.

"i'm so sorry, y/n," he whispered, his voice breaking. "i never wanted you to feel like this. i just want you to be happy. i just want you to be okay."

and in that moment, all the walls you'd built around yourself, all the lies you'd told, started to crumble.

you felt his love, steady and unwavering, surrounding you. his warmth was the only thing that made the fear and exhaustion bearable.

"i'll help you," he said softly, pulling back just enough to kiss your forehead. "we'll figure this out together. you don't have to carry this weight alone. i'm here. i'm always here."

for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself lean into him completely.

the overwhelming flood of emotions left you raw and vulnerable, but with intak beside you, it didn't feel like the end. it felt like the beginning of something new.

maybe it wouldn't be easy. maybe you'd still have moments where the weight of everything felt unbearable. but for now, you didn't have to pretend anymore.

you weren't alone. and that was enough.

[whumblr]

Losing battles, winning wars

Crossed out - Continued from ch.11 - Prologue

-

“A visitor?”

Ava brought up her agenda for the day, pressing the phone to her ear with her shoulder. Sure enough, she hadn’t missed anything; the only thing scheduled for the upcoming hour was a quick meet with Sarah. No outside clients for today. With half an eye still on the file in her hand and the phone in the other, the name the receptionist gave her didn’t fully register through her surprise—and annoyance.

“Yes, ma’am, he is—"

“Tell him I don’t do walk-ins, Fletcher, and that he can make an appointment like the rest of the world.”

A soft rustle sounded, as if Fletcher turned away from his visitor and cupped a hand to the phone. “He says he’s police,” he whispered, “and that it’s urgent.”

Ava didn’t bother repressing an annoyed sigh. “Send him up, then. I’ll give him ten minutes.”

Police… she mused when she put the phone back in its holder, a little more forceful than necessary. Not uncommon given her line of work and the defendants they represented, but usually handled through the right networks and with the right communication. Given this deviance – and the ambush – she had a feeling she knew what this was about.

The USB drive Lucas had given her was snugly plugged in her laptop. She removed it, put it in a drawer, and closed all digital files still open. Unreasonable, she knew that, not like he was going to tell by glancing at the stick what was on it or get anywhere near her computer, but still.

A knock on the glass door interrupted her musings and she turned.

“Ava.” Her secretary, already a girl of small stature, stepped aside in the doorway, dwarfed by the man she was escorting. “Mr Mathison.”

The man gave a polite nod and smile at the girl in thanks and she didn’t seem uncomfortable in his presence.

Ava, however, put on her game-face to hide her surprise. She had seen this man before. Leading a pack of black-clad armed men into a theatre. Marching back out with a bloodied Lucas.

He was wearing the same long black coat as he had then, a white dress shirt underneath and wearing black slacks. Given his clothes, here in the business district he could pass as a cunning lawyer or business man – probably what he was going for in public – and if she’d passed him in the lobby, she wouldn’t think twice about that assumption. But his manner and poise – the at ease stance with his hands behind his back – betrayed a little something else. And, well, having seen him having a bloodied man carried out of a public theatre might skew her judgement. Despite his attempt at this ‘disguise’, it was clear up close that this man was law enforcement through and through.

Not to mention she had done her research. Or rather, Lucas’ research, combined with some searches of her own. She was well aware this was the man Lucas suspected of murder, a man in charge of a prison, probably holding Lucas in custody. Illegal custody.

“Mr Mathison,” she echoed her secretary, but with a hint of ice in her tone. Time was precious after all, especially if it was taken from you like this.

“Ms Akwebe,” Mathison returned the greeting with a slight nod, his voice a deep rumble.

He shook her hand, less firm than she’d expected, and he immediately took a step back, making sure to keep a distance. The gesture seemed polite, but to Ava it seemed calculated. A façade that he merely kept up to compensate for his intimidating presence and that now clashed with how he’d bulldozered his way in here.

“Thank you for meeting me. I understand I am taking up your time so I’d like to get straight to business.”

He sat down on the sofa without waiting for an invitation. And just before he settled down, something caught Ava’s eye and she bristled with suppressed fury.

“Mr Mathison, you’ve either got a lot of guts or a lot of issues carrying that into my office.”

She nodded at the slight bulge next to his chest, under his coat, where she’d noticed his shirt had crinkled in a way that seemed familiar.

He didn’t seem bothered, didn’t adjust his coat nor moved and merely gave a polite smile. “Well spotted.”

“Do I need to call security in here?”

“I do not believe that is necessary. After all, they cleared me at the entrance as I have a concealed carry permit. I do apologise if it makes you uncomfortable.”

While anger was a form of discomfort, bubbling up inside her chest, she would never let it show. She had remained standing behind the other couch, perhaps an unconscious manner of creating some distance between them. But before he could notice and add to her ‘discomfort’ she walked around and sat directly across from him. This was a power play through and through; showing up assuming she’d make time for him, carrying a gun into her office.

“I assume you’re here about Lucas,” she said, not wanting to give the man a way to beat around the bush. After all, ten minutes is ten minutes.

“I am,” he said. “You are his supervisor?”

“I don’t supervise, mr Mathison. I lead a team of skilled people and I need them to be competent enough to work independently, without me holding their hand along the way.“

“Maybe it you hadn’t just held his hand but actively pulled him back we wouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

He held up his hands. “My apologies. You are aware what the charges are against him?”

“Helping a client with some less than scrupulous advice.”

“Yes. We are under the impression that he was acting independently, so none of that rubs off on you or the other people here.”

“Which client?” Ava pressed, and she expected him to blink and go ���what?’ in that fake polite voice of his but the man didn’t hesitate at all.

“Unfortunately I cannot tell you that. The investigation is still pending and I can’t name names. I’m sure you can understand.”

“I need to know to make sure others don’t fall for the same trap.”

“I can assure you this person will never walk into this building to seek legal or other unscrupulous assistance again. Should that change, I will be the first to give you a heads up.”

He was quite invested in this fake story. While Ava was more interested in the real story and the illegal detainment. But she was stuck there. She couldn’t ask, couldn’t hint, couldn’t press. She’d only oust herself and paint a clear target on her back. So against her principles, she had to relent and allow him a win here. She’d strike when the time was right.

“We think he acted independently,” Mathison said again when she sat back on the sofa, “but I wanted to ask you if you noticed anything… different about his behaviour the weeks before his arrest.”

How antsy he was, bolting out of the building at random times, working overtime once his regular work files had been finished – though uncharacteristically rushed –  clearly exhausted but working like a possessed man? While she’d hated him ambushing her at the theatre, at least it cleared the fog and he had finally confided in her. “Nothing unusual,” she lied.

“You were with him the day of his arrest.”

Ah, so that’s why he was here. Combed through security footage, now, had he. She could turn him away with a single word; merely as warden this man did not have the jurisdiction to get involved with any investigation. But doing so wouldn’t get her anywhere, it would only give her a mental win while what she needed were answers.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“We were at the theatre. We were seeing a movie.”

“Which movie?”

“The journey to Mars.”

“Did you plan this trip?”

“We happened to meet inside.” Close enough to the truth with him ambushing her.

“Did he give you anything?”

“Cash for my niece to get snacks.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.” An enormous headache, sure, but probably not as bad as his own when they’d carried him out, near-unconscious. A tinge of rage twisted in her stomach.

He asked several more questions and she answered with as little information as she could but still enough and being cooperative, to make sure that, first, he’d believe she was no threat, and second, to never have him ‘visit’ again for more follow-up questions. At the end, he seemed satisfied and at ten minutes sharp, he stood, thanked her for her time and left as sudden as he’d announced his arrival.

Ava dropped back on the sofa, still whirling from this force of nature that had just blown through.

A knock on the door again, this time from a welcome visitor.

“That was him?” A blonde woman, carrying a stack of files almost reaching her chin, walked into the office. Sarah, the person she actually had a meeting with and who probably had hovered awkwardly in the hallway, carrying pounds of paperwork and waiting for them to finish up.

Ava nodded and sat back with a sigh, gesturing for her to sit down. “That was him.”

With a heavy thud Sarah dropped the stack of files on the table in-between the two sofas. She looked back, as if she could still see the imposing man retreating out the door. “Seems like a handful.”

“You have no idea… What did you want to discuss?”

“You asked me to look into the financial aspects of the prison. His prison.” She nodded back.

“What did you find?”

Sarah scattered a number of files over the table and opened one of them. “Mostly what you’d expect to find. There are, however, monthly recurring transfers that aren’t from the government or charities or corporations, but from private persons or institutions. Booked as donations.”

“Is that uncommon?”

“Not in itself, but it is in this amount and usually donations are one-off. So, I looked into some of the names and that’s where it starts to get odd. I recognised some of the cases connected—” she pulled out two files from under the others and opened one, pointed at the name, “— this one, rather obvious, connected to the local mob, so that’s enough to make you wonder. But this one—” she opened the other file and tapped the name at the top of the page, “—Newport, government family who lost a son in that hit-and-run a few years back, whole thing was splashed over the news.”

“I remember. High profile case. They donated? The family?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Multiple times?”

“Over multiple years.”

“Are we sure these donations are voluntary?”

“No. But it seems they are.”

Ava furrowed a brow. “Are they donating or paying…?” she pondered out loud.

“Donating to keep their son’s killer incarcerated?”

A far reach. Something she absolutely would have dismissed before. Before she had read Lucas’ research on the prison.

She didn’t want to speculate too much. Get the facts first, they will point out a pattern and confirm their hypotheses or not. “Good find, Sarah. Run through all the names behind the donations. Double check them with the names of inmates – ask Robin for help with that, he’s looking into that – see if some are connected to the mob or rivalling factions, families connected to any crimes or victims—”

“Everything.” Sarah nodded, already ahead of her. “I’m on it.” She stood, but lingered near the door. “Any word on Lucas?”

“Nothing. All silent on the front.”

Sarah bit her lip, gave a solemn nod but her eyes blazed with determination, and turned back to her own desk.

Ava looked at the stack of files in front of her. A wry smile formed at her lips and the same determination lit in her eyes.

You may think the world bends to you, Mr Mathison, but that’s going to snap back at you some time.

Backing down was not her style, but she knew damn well when to pull back a little for the sake of winning in the long run. She wasn’t sure she’d parried all of his suspicions but even if he weren’t fully convinced they weren’t involved, he couldn’t do a thing about it. They were all involved. And they were coming for him, and coming for Lucas.

She opened the file Sarah put on top of the stack, settled in for work, and read the top line.

Newport v Georgiou.

-

Tag list: @gala1981 @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop @andithewhumper @tippytappytyping

@suspicious-whumping-egg @cherrychupachup @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @withdrawingramen

@light-me-on-pyre @treasureguardingdragon @notactuallyluska @fortunately-cool-penguin

[cs-fox]

TEEN SIMON RILEY TROPE

cut bench!simon riley . 16 years old

______________________________________________________________

What a great first job, your parents promised you. Working at your local pizza joint!

That’s what you thought, as well. Most of the workers there were two or three years older than you, besides the shift runners in their early twenties, and of course, your manager.

The second you had turned fourteen your parents decided you needed a job, needed some responsibility. So they made you organise your walks to work and a carpool - usually with the friendlier shift runner or delivery driver - so you could get home after those four hour shifts you hated.

Since being trained to deal with customers, you’d been put on sauce bench - the name speaking for itself. You stood at a bench and sauced pizzas for hours at a time.

The only positive of this was your position in front of cut bench.

This was because more often than not, Simon worked there, cutting pizzas with - not always precision - but definitely something.

Not that you’d ever exchanged more than a few words with the sandy-haired sixteen year old, but you had certainly exchanged glances. It was pretty much old news every time his eyes snagged on yours as he walked in to start his shift.

He was always fashionably late, in stark comparison to your infallible earliness, and you had the pleasure of watching as he slouched in, eyes tracing up and down your form in that apron and skinny jeans you always wore.

He barely ever chose to speak to you, unless you both were working a late shift and were alone in-store. It didn’t help that you seemed to stumble over your words whenever he opened his mouth within a two-meter radius of you.

You’d heard about Simon’s multiple girlfriends. He wasn’t a very faithful guy.

So you tried to stay away, at least for as long as you could.

Until he hitched a ride home in the same car you had lined up.

When he opened the door and plonked himself down in the backseat beside you with a groan, you sat up fast, boots scraping on the car’s floor mats as you subconsciously tried to make yourself appear smaller. Oh, God, this is so embarrassing…

Simon turned slowly, his eyes meeting yours for a long moment, before he muttered his address to the driver.

You couldn’t help but stare, his angular jaw and dilated brown eyes always a point of interest. He looked much older than he was, due to the fact one of your shift runners kept offering him cigarettes he couldn’t refuse.

He said, after a very awkward silence, ‘Pretty busy tonight, huh?’

You sighed, nodding. ‘Fuck - it was awful. Never want to sauce another classic crust in my life.’

Simon snorted a laugh. ‘We should swap. I don’t fancy cutting any more pizzas. Ever.’

‘Me - cut bench? And I’ve heard the stories of your time on sauce bench, mister. I don’t think our managers would be too happy.’

‘Pfft. I’m still good at everything in store.’

‘The way John talks about you, I’d hope so.’

John was one of your shift runners, a friendlier but short-fused man in his early twenties.

For another five or so minutes, you sat in silence. Simply trading glances, until the car stopped. You had pulled up two streets over from your own house, within comfortable walking distance - you assumed that was what the driver had intended until Simon’s door opened and shut.

You gave thanks to your driver and clambered out of the car as well, calling out to Simon. ‘Hey - I live a few streets down from you.’

He turned, tilting his head. ‘You gonna walk home? At ten o’clock? This street is sketchy as hell.’

You flushed. ‘Um…’ you really hadn’t thought this one out.

‘C’mon. I’ll walk you home. What’s your address?’

You mumbled out an answer and he fell into step beside you. Slowly, surprisingly easy conversation came, until you realised you’d basically bumped into your front door without noticing.

‘Well…’ you tried awkwardly, but Simon cut you off suddenly.

‘Can I get your number?’

______________________________________________________________

my favourite trope now. be prepared for more parts.

[flyingwargle]

kageyama feels his consciousness rise from the depths of sleep, cradled in warmth and comfort. he opens his eyes to the shadows dancing across the ceiling, bedroom curtained in a muted silence. rolling to his side, he is greeted by a fragment of the sun, swathed in blankets, drool dried in the corner of his mouth, lips slightly parted with every breath.

hinata's fingers are splayed across the mattress, and kageyama has half a mind to place his hand on top. instead, he settles for watching, admires how his tousled bright hair is spread across the pillow, sleeves of his pajama shirt rolled unevenly, a tiny peek of skin shows from one of the buttons being undone in sleep.

it started in second year, when the snow was too heavy for hinata to bike through, and kageyama told him to stay the night. during the other seasons, he'd struggle to find reasons for hinata to stay over, but winter provided plenty of opportunities, especially in their third year, when the snow has been heavier than before, and hinata has extra clothes tucked into the bottom shelf of kageyama's dresser.

it was last winter when hinata moved from the futon to the bed. kageyama would never forget.

lost in his thoughts, he doesn't notice when hinata had woken, blinking blearily at him. "what are you looking at?"

kageyama blinks back to the moment, turning away with a grunt. "nothing." he buries himself deeper in his blankets at hinata's hum. "think we have practice this morning?"

they usually do on saturdays, but snow often meant otherwise. kageyama hears hinata shuffle around, unlocking his phone. "coach texted. he said to stay home."

"is the snow bad?"

a few more clicks. "5 cm expected today. it'll be snowing all day."

"oh." he stares at the ceiling. "you can stay the weekend, if you want. you said your mom's car isn't good for snow..."

shuffling. "kageyama."

he turns, nearly jumps at the glint in hinata's eyes. "if you want a sleepover, you can just say so."

a scowl crawls onto his face. "i'm just being considerate. your house is far, and the roads aren't that great. i wouldn't want your mom to get hurt or...something."

"something," hinata echoes. he's still for a moment, places his phone back on the nightstand, and sits up, stretching his arms over his head. "let's make breakfast!"

a chill hangs over the empty house. kageyama suppresses his shivers as he switches the lights on, turns the heat higher. hinata rifles through the kitchen cupboards, familiar with the placement of his pots and pans, knives and cutting boards, bowls and utensils. kageyama falls into step with him, fills in any holes, turns the stove on as hinata finishes the pancake batter.

there's something about this that feels so...domestic. hinata flips the pancakes, and kageyama sets the table with plates, bottle of syrup that he bought specifically for hinata, butter for himself. he carries the plate between them, and they sit, tackling the stack one pancake at a time. their conversation is quiet, from observations they've made about their underclassmen, gossip from their year, news from their friends in tokyo.

after breakfast, they bundle into their jackets to shovel the sidewalk. kageyama grabs a pair from the garage, passing one to hinata, who takes it with a gloved hand, lower half of his face hidden by his scarf. he digs his shovel into the pristine snow, scoops it and starts a pile against the fence.

snow continues to fall during their shoveling. the neighborhood is quiet, with the occasional car going by, others also shoveling snow from their driveways and sidewalks. kageyama spent long winters during junior high doing it alone; when hinata learned about it, he insisted on helping every time he came over, no matter if it was for an evening or overnight.

by this point, they’ve divided the work equally. kageyama takes the driveway, and hinata takes the sidewalk and walkway to the front door. their voices bounce between the empty yard, and soon, a pile of snow is left against the fence.

kageyama lets out a breath, leaning on his shovel to admire their handiwork. behind him. hinata is crouched in front of the snow. “hey, kageyama.”

“mm?”

“turn around.”

he’s had three years of experience for this moment. “all right.” in the same moment that he pivots, he throws his shovel full of snow at hinata, whose pitiful snowball is lost in the spray. snow catches in his hair, melts off his rosy cheeks, sticks to his scarf. kageyama grins, and hinata doesn’t hesitate to gather an armful of snow to throw back at him.

their taunts and laughter dance through the frozen air. kageyama loses his shovel, resorts to half-formed snowballs to lob at him, and hinata continues his relentless assault until he slips and falls onto the snow in a fit of giggles. “ah, i can’t believe this is our last time doing this!”

his words hang in the frozen air. kageyama steps closer to him, watches him stretch his arms over his head, placed delicately on top of the snow. his breaths billow, lips curled into a smile, eyes closed. “what do you mean?” kageyama asks.

“this- just…just playing in the snow. being together. we’re graduating, and then we’re going in completely different directions. we won’t have winters together like this, anymore.” a hint of melancholy deepens his voice, causes his smile to waver. “it doesn’t snow in brazil. it’s too hot.”

“i know that, dumbass.” kageyama closes his gloved hands into fists, turns away from him. “there’s…no point in thinking about that now when we still have time. winter’s barely started. who’s to say that we won’t do this again when we’re older?”

“here i was thinking that you’d say you’d be too old for snowball fights.”

“maybe, but…there’s more than that.” he lays down on the snow beside him, stares at the clouded sky and snow that dapples across his face. “we can just…sit under the blankets and watch volleyball. or make pancakes. or shovel the driveway. even if we can’t do it next year, there’ll be many more years, right?”

a pause. he glances at hinata, notices how his friend’s head has turned in the opposite direction. “right. you’re right.”

they lay like that, surrounded by snow, blanketed in the neighborhood’s silence. kageyama reaches toward his side until he brushes against a gloved hand. hinata flinches away instinctively, but after a moment, reaches for him, so their fingers are intertwined. their frozen breaths disappear in the air, simultaneous with one another.

even if they don’t have next year, they’ll have many more years to come. kageyama is sure of it.

[knoepfl]

A Crazy Christmas Surprise

8/24

Characters

• Jinx: An unpredictable, chaotic individual battling the voices in her head and her own unhinged thoughts. Beneath her manic exterior, she craves connection and understanding.

• Reader (You): Jinx’s steadfast partner, determined to bring her joy and comfort despite the challenges of her mental state. Creative, caring, and deeply empathetic.

Trigger Warnings

• Mental health struggles: References to hallucinations, loneliness, and erratic behavior due to Jinx’s mental state.

• Chaotic themes: Jinx’s love for destruction and her manic energy are present throughout the story.

Masterlist

Words: 799

--- The streets of Zaun never really celebrated Christmas in the way Piltover did, with its grand displays and extravagant lights. Down here, the holiday was just another day for most people, filled with the same struggles to survive. But for you, this Christmas felt like it had to be different.

It had been weeks since you’d noticed Jinx’s hallucinations growing worse. She was more erratic than usual, talking to the voices in her head louder, losing herself in conversations with ghosts only she could see. The chaos in her mind seemed to be winning, and it broke your heart.

You loved her, every messy, brilliant, and unhinged part of her. And tonight, you were going to remind her she wasn’t alone, no matter how loud the voices in her head got.

The warehouse you both called home was unusually quiet when Jinx returned. She swung the heavy doors open, her trusty minigun strapped to her back, her eyes darting around suspiciously.

“Helloooo?!” she called out, her voice echoing in the dimly lit space.

The lights flickered on, and she froze. The usually dingy room was transformed. String lights were draped across the walls, casting a warm glow, and brightly colored streamers dangled from the ceiling. In the center of it all stood a massive pile of boxes, haphazardly wrapped in mismatched paper, topped with a glittery bow.

You stepped out from behind the pile, grinning nervously. “Surprise!”

Jinx blinked, her mismatched eyes wide with disbelief. “What… what is all this?”

“It’s Christmas!” you said, throwing your arms out. “I figured you’ve never really had one before, so… I wanted to make it special.”

She stared at you for a long moment, her fingers twitching as if she didn’t know what to do with them.

“You… did all this? For me?”

“Of course, I did,” you replied, stepping closer. “You deserve something good, Jinx. Something fun. Something just for you.”

Her lips twitched, and she let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of her neck. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, it’s kinda cheesy, don’t you think? All the lights and the… bow?”

“Very cheesy,” you agreed, grinning. “But you love cheesy.”

She snorted, finally letting her guard down a little. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Come on,” you said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the pile of gifts. “Open them!”

Jinx hesitated for a moment before dropping to her knees in front of the pile, tearing into the first box with her usual reckless enthusiasm. Inside was a small music box, painted in her favorite chaotic colors. When she wound it up, it played a hauntingly beautiful melody, the tiny ballerina inside spinning wildly as if dancing to her chaos.

She grinned, her eyes sparkling with genuine joy. “This is amazing!”

“Keep going!” you urged, your heart swelling at the sight of her happiness.

One by one, she opened the gifts. There was a new set of tools for her tinkering, a stash of her favorite candies, a sketchbook filled with blank pages for her wild ideas, and even a custom-made stuffed bunny with stitched-up eyes that matched her aesthetic.

But the last box was the one you were most nervous about.

She tore into it with the same energy, gasping when she saw what was inside: a handmade blanket, patchworked from scraps of fabric you’d collected from around Zaun. Each piece told a story—bits of old banners, fabric from her favorite clothes, and even a scrap from the scarf she’d worn the night you first met her.

“You made this?” she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

You nodded, suddenly shy. “I thought… maybe it could be like a hug, for when you’re feeling alone. Or when the voices get too loud.”

Jinx clutched the blanket to her chest, her lip quivering slightly. For a moment, you thought she might cry, but instead, she lunged at you, tackling you into a tight hug.

“You’re the best, you know that?” she murmured, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

“I try,” you replied, laughing softly as you hugged her back.

She pulled back, her grin wide and a little manic, but her eyes were softer than you’d seen them in weeks. “This is the best Christmas ever. Seriously. I mean, I didn’t even know I needed this, but… you just get me, you know?”

“I try,” you said again, smiling.

Jinx wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and plopped down on the floor, motioning for you to join her. “Come on! Let’s eat candy and blow stuff up or something. Christmas isn’t over yet!”

Laughing, you sat beside her, knowing that tonight, for once, the voices in her head might be drowned out by the sound of her laughter. And that was all the Christmas gift you needed.

---

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎThe Road Not Taken౨ৎ꣑ৎ

꣑ৎ"There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me."꣑ৎ

౨ৎ꣑ৎ12 Days of Christmas Masterlist౨ৎ꣑ৎ [fem reader] contains: mental illness pairing: fem reader x alex nilsen summary: alex was your first real love and your first real heartbreak. so why have your parents invited him to their holiday party? author’s note: so...this was very hard for me to write for some reason, and I'm still not 100% about it but it is done and here and I hope it is good Spotify Playlist

The journey from the airport was a nostalgic trick.

Every road, every business, every traffic light was tainted by the past's glow. You weren't sure if you should stare into it or turn away. Your parents chatted excitedly in the front seats while you sat staring out the window, feeling as though you were universes away from them.

The skies were blue, the fresh layer of snow trampled by footprints on the sidewalk and torn to slush on the roads, turning grey as tires rolled through it. People out walking were bundled in puffy coats, woolen hats covering their ears as they chattered, excitedly based on their expressions. Tinsel candy canes and bells interwoven with string lights decorated the street posts, the city's attempt at being festive. You smiled a bit at the sight.

"Camille made it down yesterday," your mother said, stretching and tilting her head back to look at you. "She and John are staying at a hotel so you can have your old bedroom."

"Is there something wrong with the guest room?" you asked absentmindedly, tilting your forehead so it was pressed against the cool glass, a welcome relief from the air blasting you turned up to the highest setting.

"No," your father said simply, and you shrugged, adjusting the neck of your sweater. You supposed if you had a fiancé you wouldn't want to sleep in your childhood home either.

As the car pulled into your street, you lifted your head, rubbing at the smudge your forehead left. The house you grew up in looked the same as always, down to the usual holiday decorations. You could practically see your father standing on the ladder, hooking the lights to the roof while your mother nervously held the ladder, yelling at him not to fall like Clark Griswold in Christmas Vacation.

You went to unload your bags but your father insisted, making you feel more like a guest than you'd like. As you carefully made your way up the steps, avoiding ice patches, you paused as your mother grabbed your elbow, pulling you close. "I wanted to tell you...Camille and John aren't the only ones we've invited for Christmas."

"Oh?" You began to sort through your mind who else they could have brought over. Your aunt, maybe, from California? She loved a palm tree covered in lights more than anything, so you weren't sure why she'd come all the way to the Midwest for Christmas. Even so, you felt a twinge of excitement at the thought. She was sure to diffuse any possible tension that came with family in close quarters.

Turning around, you saw a vaguely familiar car parked in the far part driveway that you hadn't noticed before. Your aunt would have flown first class to Ohio, but she'd grown up here, so maybe she'd borrowed an old friend's vehicle? Thinking of how smooth and charming she was, you supposed anything was possible.

"It'll be nice," you decided, looking at your mother. "To have someone else here."

"It will!" She patted your arm, beginning to walk with you up the porch steps again. "This is part of why your sister couldn't take the guest bedroom. We wanted it available. And she had no objections."

"I'm sure she didn't," you commented. John was a soon-to-be heart surgeon from a wealthy family. You were sure he and Camille were staying in the nicest place in town. Again, not that you could blame them.

Opening the door, you stepped inside and slipped off your shoes, inhaling the scent of the peppermint candle your mother always burned for the duration of the month. The smell comforted you, and a barrage of memories dragged over you like a tidal wave, You pushed the bad ones down and sorted through the montage of good. Hot chocolate and snowball fights and knitted scarves and pink wrapping paper.

Wandering toward the kitchen, you daydreamt of a hot tea after your long journey, the perfect remedy to whatever stress you'd brought with you from home. In your experience, there was no problem a hot drink couldn't fix. Not that being home was a problem but...oh well. You hummed as you opened the cabinet, turning around, your eyes widening.

The mug slipped from your hands, and you barely registered the distinct sound of a thousand tiny pieces separating themselves from one, bouncing on the floor around your feet and creeping into cracks and under places out of reach. All you could do was stare straight ahead.

Because Alex Nilsen was sitting in front of you, looking like he'd seen a ghost even though he was in your parents' house.

Holidays with your family came in a set of traditions, like Russian nesting dolls. One thing led to another until the famous party at the end on Christmas Eve. It was a classy affair, long upheld by your parents since before you and Camille were born. Other happenings were developed and kept over the years, creating the sequence you could see so clearly in your mind.

And it was all about to be dismantled by a puppy-eyed new addition.

"Ed's going to be with David for a few weeks," your mother had said, trying to soothe you in the living room after the incident. "And poor Alex couldn't leave with the end of the school term. The Nilsens have been to their fair share of Christmas activities with us before-"

"But why isn't he at his own place?" you whispered, eyes darting to the living room entrance. "He lives close, doesn't he?"

"His apartment flooded," she explained, and you nodded once, biting your cheek. Of course it did. "So we offered for him to come stay here for now, since he's going to be with us so often for the next bit anyways."

"Right." You nodded, trying to remain calm. "Okay. Fine. This is fine."

"We thought you'd be happy about it." Your mother frowned, touching your elbow. "You used to be so close..."

"Yes. Yeah." You interjected, folding your arms over yourself. Push it down. Push it down. "It's fine. It'll be great. It was nice of you to invite him."

You hadn't told many people what happened. Maybe if your parents had known, they wouldn't have asked him over. They still would, you thought bitterly as you unpacked your things that night. You couldn't stop thinking about the unexpected houseguest sleeping down the hall. Was he thinking about you?

The thoughts were overwhelming. They plagued you even as you tried to sleep, tossing and turning in your time capsule of a room. You were turned to the side, facing away from your old bulletin board. The pictures hadn't been replaced since your senior year of high school, and you could feel their eyes on you even in the dark.

You didn't mean to sleep late, but it was past noon when you woke up, eyes still heavy. Lying in bed, one arm flung over your head, you strained your ears for the sounds of the house, but found none. It was quiet, a fairly unusual occurrence.

Pulling on a too-big sweatshirt and leggings, you trudged downstairs, pulling your hair back on the way. Alex was in the kitchen, and you gave him a half smile, opening the cabinet. You were determined to make a cup of tea without dropping the mug this time.

"Your parents went to lunch with Camille and John," he said behind you, tone light. "They'll all be back later."

"I see," you said casually, setting your mug in the microwave and pressing a few buttons. Turning, you found Alex with his laptop open on the table, blinking up at you.

Time is a funny thing. It seems to lengthen things, suggest change, but you could have sworn nothing about him did. If he was a map, you could have drawn him from memory and not one bit would be different. Hair, eyes, hands, nose, mouth. You didn't know if he felt the same.

He cleared his throat, leaning back in his seat. You tilted yourself back, trying not to slide in your fuzzy socks on the floor. "You're teaching here?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding once. "I like it. Same high school we went to."

A tiny smile quirked your lips up. Of course. You knew from your mother, but you had wanted to hear it from him. That he'd stayed.

Alex drummed his fingers on the table, waiting until after the microwave went off and you took the mug out to ask, "You're in Seattle now?"

"I am." You adjusted the string of your tea bag so you didn't have to look at him. "I've been there for a couple of years."

"Ah." Another bout of silence had you itching to race out of the kitchen, but you held it together. Be an adult.

You continued, trying to keep it casual. "My parents were a little upset that I didn't move closer, but Camille's close, so it's okay." You swallowed. "Her fiance's a-"

"Heart surgeon. Yeah, your mom mentioned it," he said, and you bit the inside of your cheek. He was studying you in that intrinsic Alex way. "She seems really excited about it."

"Very," you responded, taking a sip of your tea and daring to meet his eyes. Once you did, you immediately regretted it. He had a way about him that felt as though he could see straight to your secrets. "He's been really good for her. For Camille."

"She's doing better?" Alex asked, still watching you.

You swallowed. "Yeah. She's doing a lot better."

"Good," he said, and you looked into your tea for a second, unsure what else to say. Just when you were about to leave, he continued. "Look...I'm sorry. For showing up like this. I thought you knew about it-"

"It's fine." You shook your head, meeting his eyes again, giving him a small smile. "Really. It is. It...everything was a long time ago."

"It was," he agreed, eyebrows furrowing. "But it still-"

"I'm going to shower," you interjected, turning and starting to leave. "I'll be back down later." Without waiting for an answer, you trailed away, heart pounding in your ears.

It was more evidence nothing had changed. He was supposed to be a stranger now, but he pulled you right back in. A force of magnetism, just how he'd always been. And just like before, he made your heart beat differently, like it had found its other half.

He had been that. Someone you loved. And a secret voice inside you said that you hadn't stopped. Was that why you could hardly look at him? Why even the sight of him sent you into a spiral, guilt flooding you like a dam burst open? The one person you wanted to tell about it was downstairs where you'd left him, after you'd brushed him off like a stranger.

You avoided him all afternoon until you couldn't anymore, when the tell-tale signs of your parents' voices wafted upstairs, keys rattling, footsteps loud. Reluctantly, you began to wander in their direction, taking your sweet time with every step. For some reason, you were nervous, tense about it. Camille's pretty laugh pierced the air, and you took a deep breath before walking in, keeping a smile on your face. You're happy to see her.

"Hi!" she squealed, pulling you into a hug. You returned it, relaxing a little. This is your sister. You love her. It's okay.

"Hi Cami," you muttered, and she beamed, stepping aside so you could greet her fiancé. You hugged him too- he was famously good at it. "Hi John."

"You look so pretty," she gushed, looking over you. Smiling tightly, you took in her soft sweater and designer earrings. "We've gotta go shopping sometime. I just found the cutest boutique in town that you'd love."

"Right," you said, stepping to the side, accidentally bumping Alex's shoulder.

"Look at you two," Camille giggled as John slid an arm around her. "It's just like in high school."

Alex and you shared a look, and you pursed your lips. He tried not to smile. "I guess it is."

"We got everything at the store for baking," John said, the tips of his fingers rubbing your sister's side. "I think we're making one of everything."

"That's how it goes," you smiled. Yours and Alex's shoulders were touching but neither of you made any move to separate.

Your mother called from the kitchen that the cookies weren't going to bake themselves, and you all trailed in, standing alert and waiting for your assignments. This was the first tradition in the holiday set- making enough cookies to feed a small nation. This kitchen had multiple ovens, and this was the main reason why. They were all preheating thanks to your mother, and she was separating ingredients into groups.

Predictably, you and Alex were put to work on one recipe, while your parents, John, and Camille tackled the other two. The kitchen was lively with both chatter and one of Frank Sinatra's Christmas albums in the background. Camille was telling a story about how she'd accidentally ordered a tree that was far too tall for her and John's living room, and your parents were laughing along across the counter with them.

It was easy to feel disconnected like this. They were all here, and you were off in the big city, the one who left. The outsider. Even though you'd been raised here just the same as your sister, it all felt like a story from somewhere else. Somehow you were an intruder, a guest, where she was at home.

Alex bumped your hip with his, and you nearly melted. He said it quietly, and you knew the others wouldn't be able to hear it. "Do you think he's ever going to let go of her?" You looked at John, who was cracking an egg with his hand on Camille's waist.

A giggle bubbled up out of your mouth, and suddenly it was as if the tension had never been there at all. You looked at Alex with bright eyes, heart fluttering a little. It was him. You'd forgotten your best friend somehow, and as you watched him start to laugh with you, you realized you never wanted to again.

"If he lets go it's cause he's kissing her," you whispered back, and he grinned.

"Should we try it?" When you raised your eyebrows, he flushed and clarified, "I meant baking with one hand."

You gave him a daring look. "We might have to scrape char off our cookies."

"Worth it," he said, and you giggled again, the pieces of you and him falling back into place.

"Let's do it," you decided, holding up your arm. As if reading your mind, he linked his own through it, and you turned back to the ingredients, trying to ignore the press of his elbow to yours.

Reaching for the vanilla, you set the appropriate teaspoon on the counter, methodically uncapping the bottle with your one free hand and pouring carefully, only spilling a few drops on the counter. Next to you, Alex was struggling with the sugar, dipping the measuring cup into the container and trying to delicately shake it so there wasn't too much on top.

"Having trouble?" you giggled, watching him spill for the third time.

"I'm not using my dominant hand," he pointed out, and you squeezed his forearm without thinking, eyes glued to his labored movements. "But I think I've got- there!" It wasn't perfect, but there wasn't as much overfill. He poured it in, and you did the same with your vanilla.

As you struggled to effectively add ingredients, laughing at the missteps, you felt lighter than you had in a long time. Being here with him somehow erased the worry that had plagued you lately, over being home and feeling like a stranger looking through a window to your family.

He'd been that way for you in college too. Always over to study or make dinner, your home away from home. You'd been so nervous about missing Linfield, but he had been everything good about it. It was glaring at you in neon letters. If what you had before was a dying flower, with a single bump of his hip it was nourished back to life.

Sliding your first sheet of cookies into the oven, one of each of your hands on either side, you found your mind bubbling up with a million things you wanted to say to him. You thought of all the times you'd picked up your phone to send a picture of something wild you saw in the city to him, every time all you'd wanted to do was call and hear his voice.

You'd missed him. More than you'd thought.

Alex set the timer and nudged you gently with his elbow. "We're each gonna need one oven mitt."

Your heart fluttered again. He smiled at you. On the other side of the counter, your parents, Camille, and John burst into laughter.

"Oh yeah, the power went out and when we opened the fridge, water came out."

"I really thought that snow was gonna make it to July."

Alex laughed, tilting his head and stretching his legs out on the couch, underneath your bent ones. You pulled the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, giggling. He set his mug down on the coffee table. "Do you get much snow in Seattle?"

"A bit," you said, tilting your head to rest on the couch. "Not near as much as here. Or maybe it feels different because it's in the city."

The tree was twinkling in the corner of the room, and the TV was on, playing your favorite Christmas movie. Ever since cookie night, you'd spent a lot of time together like this- binging Christmas movies and gorging on chocolate, conversation wandering aimlessly. If you weren't doing that, you were traipsing behind your family at whichever activity you were at. Sledding, shopping, caroling. You began to know him again.

At first it'd been a little more formal. You'd sat further apart, shoulders barely touching. It had only taken a day or so for you to fall back into your old habits. It felt as though all was right with the world after that.

You'd just gotten home from another tradition- driving around to see the lights. There hadn't been enough room in your parents' car for all of you, so you and Alex drove separately.

It turned out to be fun- the two of you laughing and watching the lights blink in time to a radio station. When you shivered, he had immediately started to fiddle with the vents, taking your hand in his and blowing warm air. The gesture made you smile.

The two of you had bailed long before everyone else, deciding to head home and warm up. You made peppermint hot chocolate and he found the movie, getting out blankets and turning the fireplace on.

When you came over with matching mugs, he'd held out his arm, the space against his chest inviting and warm. Without a second thought, you'd positioned yourself close, tucking yourself into him. He was always so cozy to lay against, several nights from college evidence.

"I've missed this," he mumbled, and you smiled at that, scratching your fingers on his chest.

"I've missed it too." You nuzzled into his shoulder and he smiled, chin on your head. "I wish I could take it with me."

He was quiet for a moment, fingers drawing patterns on your arm. You were about to ask something else when he said, "You were brave to do it, you know? To get out."

"I don't know if I really left," you confessed, snuggling closer. "I spend so much time worrying about everything here."

"Yeah, I get that," he said, hand finding the top of your head and smoothing your hair. His arm rested on your shoulder, bent at the elbow. "That's what made me stay."

"There's no shame in it," you murmured, eyes on the movie as you thought. "You wanted to take care of your dad. You're doing what you love."

"It feels like I missed out sometimes," he said quietly, thumb following the line of your hair. "Everything's good here. But that's the thing. It's good. I was worrying for no reason."

Sitting up slightly, you faced him, searching his eyes. You knew every corner of him, it felt like. His ends and beginnings. His love and hate. And so you were purposeful when you said, "You know it would be okay, right? If you were to leave?" When his lips parted, you amended, "Not that staying is bad. Not at all. You did what felt right for you, but..." you searched his eyes, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. "It would be okay if you didn't want to be here forever."

There was a moment where he was just watching you, eyes soft in a way you remembered so well. He half-smiled, patting your waist. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Satisfied, you smiled and settled back against him. He adjusted his arm around you, and your sense of deja vu heightened. How many times had you laid like this with him, talking for hours about one thing or another? Breathing in and focusing again on the movie, you said, "I thought I would end up here. After everything with Camille and seeing how fragile it all was. But I left." Something tightened in your chest. "That sounds selfish."

Alex shook his head, squeezing your knee. "It's not. It's really not."

"I mean... you know what happened," you murmured. "They needed me." Your mind was spiraling now, plummeting to the depths of something you weren't able to stop. The tightness in your chest was suffocating, and you pressed your palm there. "And I left." The panic settled, and you said the last part simply. That's all it was. Simple.

Alex just watched you, his eyes solemn. You bit the side of your cheek. The way he looked at you hadn't changed one bit. His soulful eyes could pry the same secrets out of you if he wanted them to.

But he didn't push, didn't question. He just squeezed your side, pulling you back into him and letting you rest. You closed your eyes, trying not to cry. He was familiar. He was home. Alex leaned down, lips finding your hair. You laced your fingers through his, and he pulled your hand up to rest over his heart.

The feeling blanketed you like a fresh coat of snow, and you knew he was swathed in it too by the way he rubbed up and down your spine.

Footsteps. It was like your body knew something was wrong before you did. Sitting up, you turned your head to the open door, pushing away your laptop as your mother rushed by. "Mom?"

Coats sliding against each other, hangers clicking. You stood up, padding into the hallway and saying it again. "Mom?"

She looked at you briefly, seeming harried. "What?"

"Is something wrong?" Your heart began to pound, every possible scenario running through your head. Sick, dying, accident-

"Your sister," she began, and it hit you like a punch to the stomach. "She's having an episode. John has a meeting at the hospital, and he called us to go be with her until he can get back."

"An episode?" Unwanted memories had awful timing. They had been piling up all week, and you could feel them beginning to overflow. "But...she..." you swallowed. "It's been years since she's-"

"No," your mother said curtly, finally finding the coat she was looking for and pulling it out, the hanger sticking out when she closed the door. "She has them still."

Another gut punch. You watched with wide eyes as she descended the stairs, frozen even as you began to follow her. Your instincts kicked in, and you began to panic. She was rifling through her purse, expression solemn. You searched for your shoes, still reeling from this news.

"I'll be back later," she said, turning to the door.

Your eyebrows shot up and you reached for her arm, meeting her eyes. "Mom, just give me a minute and I'll be ready-"

"No, you stay here," she said, shaking her head. "I don't think it'd be a good idea if you came." Your hand fell from her elbow.

"I can help," you said in a small voice.

She sighed and smiled softly, reaching out to pat your shoulder. "It's fine. We always figure it out when you aren't here."

Only once the door shut did you realize she was gone. The chasm of your mind was eating you alive, swallowing anything you'd felt before and replacing it with something you didn't want. You could feel tears rising in your eyes, a sob in your throat, and you sniffled, bringing a hand to your face.

It was all too similar. Too close to how it was before. You thought it was all gone now. Buried because the past was dead. Maybe it was more alive than you thought.

Glimpses flickered before your eyes. You closed them, feet rooted to the spot. She didn't mean to hurt you. You knew she didn't. But it still stung, itching at your skin and reminding you of what you'd forget if you could. Someone said your name. You shifted only to find Alex in your line of sight, his eyes soft.

You collided. His arms encircled you, chin falling to your hair. A miniscule sob hitched your breath and he flattened his cheek on your head. "It's okay, it's okay..."

"She...she's..." you choked. He shook his head, smoothing his hand up and down your back.

"It's not your fault," Alex whispered into your hair, carefully herding you to the couch. You thunked beside him, leaning in close as he rubbed your side and bunched his fingers over your leg. "You were trying to help."

"They don't need me," you murmured, fresh tears springing to your eyes.

Alex was quiet, smoothing his hand over your head and rubbing his thumb to your hair. You burrowed into him and he let you, lifting his arm so you could more easily reach his chest. Shame painted you suddenly, and you sat up, pulling your knees to your chest. "I'm sorry."

"Hey-" Alex reached for you again. "No, it's okay. Let me help you."

"I shouldn't be...I'm sorry, I'm-" you took in shuddering breaths, instincts telling you to get far away from this. To let it fade into the dust where it was only kicked up every now and then.

Alex kept hold of your hand, and you were drawn to the magnet of his eyes. He shook his head just slightly. "This is what happened last time."

Last time. When you'd gone home for winter break, excited to share Christmas with him now that you were officially in love. The wreckage that had met you when you came home. Your sister always in tears, an unsolvable issue newly tagging her. The way you'd tried to help after seeing the exhaustion in your parents' eyes. They'd needed you.

Doctor's appointments. Trips to the pharmacy. Staying with Camille for hours, watching over her and making sure she remained healthy and safe. Christmas came and went without any fanfare, the best gift that she was still here.

After a troubled semester, you'd come home to rest. Instead, the weight of someone's life fell into the palm of your hand. The hole in your chest only widened, and you felt as though you were drowning. Holding three people you loved up above the water with only your hands, lucky if you got a wisp of air. The place you knew as a comfort had morphed into something entirely different, something that said you couldn't afford to be taken care of anymore. It was your time to step up. Be strong.

You'd barely seen Alex. He offered to come help, offer any kind of support. But you'd insisted he stay with his family, burning yourself to the nub by the time January came around. That was when you ended it with him.

So many tears. A million untrodden paths surrounding you. You hadn't imagined anything without him, not since you were a kid. He'd always been there and you'd loved him more than anyone and you'd ruined it.

But it was too much. You were both young and he was bright and smart and he needed to fly high. Away from where you would drag him down.

He didn't grace your apartment after that to study together or bring over dinner. You didn't spend the night at his place watching movies or tucked in his arms anymore. Time separated you. It seemed as though the story was over.

But everything you'd swept under the rug was back, holding you tight as you sank back into his arms and shed another tidal wave of tears. Alex was quiet as each one seeped into his shirt, and you nearly melted into nothing when you felt his lips in your hair.

Despite it all, he was here. He was here, and maybe he always had been. Another bout of tears overwhelmed you when you realized it had never needed to be so hard. One call for him and he would have been there, right where you needed him.

"I'm sorry," you choked, fingers finding his shirt. "I...you..."

"Shh," Alex soothed, shaking his head and rubbing your back. "I know. It wasn't your fault."

"H-having two kids with these issues is too much. I couldn't-" you got out before he pressed your face into his chest, nose squishing into your head.

"It's gonna be okay," he murmured, and you heard the hitch in his voice. Despite it, Alex snuggled you close, lightly rubbing your shoulder. It was the first time in what felt like forever that you'd believed someone when they said it.

You were content being held by him, cozy in the cradle of his arms. He used to do this often when you would have panic attacks or a particularly bad day. His arms were always open, and you hadn't thought you'd get the luxury of needing them again.

Looking up at him, you almost told him so many things. Everything you'd never said was spilling from its sealed envelope, flooding your senses with only him. Alex held your gaze, a single word falling from his lips. "Baby-"

The front doorknob rattled, breaking the moment into dust. There were footsteps on the porch, accompanied by your parents' voices. If they saw you crying...

You sprang from Alex's arms, eyes wide as you looked at him. He frowned, reaching for you again, but before he could say anything you fled to your room. Maybe in an hour you'd wash your face and return downstairs, act as though all was well.

It didn't feel right, but it was all you had. Running away and putting on a face was the one part of your past that you still clung to.

Garlands twined around the banisters, red bows on the edge of everything. You dusted your hands of glitter, tucking a strand of hair away. It had taken practically all day, from the moment you rose from bed. From the kitchen wafted the smell of appetizers, Camille's voice echoing alongside your mother's.

Your mother had apologized when she returned home, but what happened still sat heavy in your heart. Camille was fine. Apparently, she always was.

It only confirmed that you wouldn't be saying anything of your own troubles.

Alex remained at your side, nary a word of what happened escaping his lips. You loved him for it, for doing the opposite of pretending nothing happened. It was silent reassurance that you loved him more than anything for. He stood at your side, as steady as what you'd always needed.

Baby. It played in your head more often than not. When the fluttering of your past feelings had beckoned you again, you'd shooed it away, but now you wondered of their return. The way he looked at you, like you were the center of the universe- it melted your heart and shook your being.

Did he feel the same? Was it just as time-stopping for him to look at you as it was for you to look at him?

He was a ghost in your mind, in your every thought. Indeed, he was there, lingering as you dressed for the holiday party. Your hair was done, earrings on, and you were about to don the dress you always wore for this event. Black knit, with tights.

There was a knock on the door, and then your sister entered, a shopping bag dangled from her fingers. She looked beautiful as always, wearing a silk green dress with her hair pulled up. You recognized her necklace: an engagement gift from John.

"Is anything wrong?" you jumped up, eyes wide and hands going to her elbows.

She smiled fondly. "No, nothing. Nothing at all. I just wanted to give you this." Holding out the shopping bag, Camille smiled delightedly when you took it, bouncing on her heels. "To wear tonight. You'll look so pretty."

"Thank you," you said quietly, smiling back. This wasn't unlike her- to surprise you with little gifts at any time during the year. But a whole new dress was something else.

Camille sat on your bed, taking your usual black dress and folding it in her lap. "I wanted to apologize. For not telling you anything." Her smile faded. "It's silly. You...you were there for me when I needed you. You deserved to know."

"Camille-" you sat beside her, eyes nearly welling up. Taking one of her hands, you whispered, "I only want you to be okay. This whole time I've been away, I've been worrying-"

"But you shouldn't," she cut in, squeezing your hand, her eyes soft. "I'm fine. Really. Every now and then there's a bad episode, but truly for the most part I'm okay. I have John and he keeps me stable. I guess I never said anything because I thought there was nothing to say."

It was like a weight off your shoulders. You could have burst into tears as you looked at her, glowing and happy in front of you. So far from the girl she'd been before. You weren't sure how you'd failed to see it before. In all your worry and swimming in the sea of memory, the present was lost on you with everything.

With Alex.

Camille gave you a fond look. "I do hope you'll wear the dress tonight. It'll be so pretty and..." She said her next words with a secret smile. "...and Alex will like it."

"Alex?" You lifted your head, nearly panicking. "He doesn't-"

"He does, trust me." Camille tapped her nose with a sweet grin. "Just wear the dress and see what happens."

Almost like a fairy, she was gone in an instant, in a whirl of dark green. You stared at the door after she left, only remembering the dress a few moments later. Plucking the tissue paper from the bag, you reached in and lifted a silky red dress with thin straps and a bow in the middle from the bottom.

It was so pretty- definitely something she would have picked out. But inexplicably you at the same time. You noticed she'd snipped off the price tag but left the brand name. Classic Camille.

It was perfect when you tried it on, soft and well fitted. Your jewelry even matched it well. You stared at yourself in the mirror, adjusting your hair accordingly and garnering the courage to step outside your room in it. All you could think of was Alex's reaction. If Camille was right...what if she was right?

Biting your lip, you played with your skirt for a moment, lost in thought. Had you really been so lost in mending the past to focus on the future? Alex was something you thought you'd left behind, but really...maybe he was standing right in front of you, ready to be your future.

Maybe all the hurt, the pain, the damage had led you to this.

Your heart raced, only one thing in your mind. It was him, always him. When he'd held you through your tears and smiled so softly when you leaned into his chest during a movie. When he'd stroked your hair and told you it was going to be okay. Fingers twitching, you yearned for him under them, for the warmth of his skin. He'd started to hold you again so eagerly, and you'd thought it the feelings of old friends.

What once was love lost was at your fingertips again. You weren't sure if you should hold tight or run the other way.

The party filled up quickly, the noise drifting into your room and beckoning you down. It was sure to be shoulder to shoulder, and you weren't sure if you would even see Alex for the evening. Cautiously, you descended the stairs, immediately greeted by a barrage of neighbors asking about life in another place.

You answered their questions with a smile, feeling as though you were giving the same answer over and over again. Yes, you liked your job. No, you weren't moving back. The weather is rainy, but lovely, and you are living in a nice place. Every year you marveled at how many people your parents knew, doubly at how that number seemed to grow by the month.

Finally, you were able to make your way to the refreshments, taking a glass of water and practically pouring it down your throat. Though it was chilly outside, the heat inside multiplied by the amount of people was nearly suffocating. You moved closer to the window, hoping the cool glass would give you enough strength to dive back into greeting the other guests.

Camille brushed by you with a wink and a squeeze to your arm. You smiled at her, gratitude filling you up all over again. For the sister you had. For the way she'd grown. You watched as she gravitated towards John, meeting his open arms and smiling as he brushed a kiss to her forehead, whispering something. She nodded, looking up at him so lovingly it could have stopped time. The way he looked back, you wouldn't be surprised if it did for him.

Turning back to the window, you were startled to see Alex on the porch bench, staring at the horizon. Maybe you weren't surprised he was playing the avoidance game at a crowded function, but it felt alarming for you to be able to see exactly who you wanted to at the very moment you wanted him.

Almost fairy-like, you glided outside, drawn to him in such a familiar way. You were numb to the bite in the air as you sat beside him, watching the sun sink into the hills like the space between two fingers. The sky was smeared with pink and orange and blue- a popsicle melting into itself.

When he looked at you, butterflies sprung from their cocoons in your stomach, flittering around and spelling words you couldn't read yet. His smile was soft. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed, watching the misty evidence of your voice evaporate in the air. "Are you?"

Alex nodded, seeming to search you. You shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold, and his eyebrows lifted. "I..." he looked down at himself. "I'd give you my jacket if I had one."

“No need,” you said, still sweating from being inside. Alex disregarded your statement, sliding his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his sweater covered chest. He was always so warm. Even though you weren't in need of it, it was comforting, and so you stayed.

A moment passed between you, still and unmarked. The street was quiet save for the sounds of the party inside, and your eyes fell to the snow caked at the sides of the road, pushed up to the sidewalk by tires. Breathing out, you watched the motion puff in the frozen air.

Alex’s thumb drew circles on your shoulder. He exhaled softly. “I like your dress.”

“Thank you.” You smiled softly, leaning your cheek on his shoulder. “Camille gave it to me.”

Silence again. Then he asked, sounding a little hesitant. “She’s doing alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, eyes on your knees, fidgeting with your fingers. “Yeah. I guess this kind of thing happens a lot.”

“And they didn’t tell you?” You didn’t need to look up to know his brow was furrowed.

You shook your head slowly. “No.”

His thumb stopped its motion, and you risked a look up at him. For once, his eyes were not laser focused on you, instead burning a hole in the porch. Sitting up, you tried to meet his eyes. “But I understand why.”

“Why?” His head turned so quickly you were stunned, lost in his face for a moment. 

Collecting yourself, you spoke slowly, trying to gather your thoughts. “They didn’t need me.” Alex started to say something, but you shook your head. “They didn’t need me. And that’s okay.”

He watched your eyes, expression soft. Your heart jumped with every glance, and now it was spurring you toward something you didn’t know if you would have confessed fifteen minutes ago. “Sometimes I think I’m tired of learning about myself. It’s like…I’m an adult. I should know these things.” Swallowing, you closed your eyes for a second, mind moving quicker than you could keep up with. “I thought I knew what had happened with Camille. I thought I knew what happened with you and me and I thought I knew how I felt but…” you trailed off for a moment, lips parting as you searched him. “Alex I don’t think I’ve ever stopped loving you.”

With your new discovery, you expected it to feel different. But he was the same Alex, the same heartbeat under you. With the way you'd tried to leave your past, maybe you'd made it all out to change. But when he said your name, it was just as intoxicating as before. There were some things you could leave behind, but others you found yourself determined to hold onto.

Alex said your name again, his voice nearly caressing the word. He looked so pretty in this light, with the sun waving goodbye and the moon turning its face. You clocked his hand on your knee, and then he was talking again. “When I moved back, I think a part of me expected it to be the way it was before. But it couldn’t have been.” You swore your heart stopped for a moment. “It didn’t have you. I never stopped loving you either.”

With a little gasp, you were reaching for him, and he pulled you closer somehow. A tear escaped your eye, and you leaned forward, throwing your arms around his neck. He held you for a long moment, and then you murmured into his chest, "I didn't know what I was missing so badly until I was with you again."

"Baby," he muttered, and you drew back, bringing your mouth to his in a swift motion. Alex held you to him through the chill, his hand at your back as he kissed you tenderly. It was home. He was not only your past, he was the future you'd dreamed of with only hazy figures that now seemed clearer.

"I ran away before and it was the wrong thing to do," you whispered, and he thumbed your cheek, nose nudging it. “I should have stayed-”

"And I stayed in all the wrong places when I should have stayed with you,” he said back, and you pressed your mouth to his again, a long kiss burning your insides in the most pleasant way. You leaned into him, suddenly cold, suddenly glad he was so warm.

Any minute now, you were expecting to wake up in a cold sweat, disturbed by what could have been and what you wished would happen. But he was still in front of you, chin resting on your head as he

"I don't care if we have to play phone tag every day forever once I go back home," you murmured, snug against his chest as he covered the bare portion of your back with his hand. "I'm not letting you go ever again."

His fingers froze, and you frowned, lifting your head. Alex's lips were parted, and he looked as though he were holding something back. Your brow knit, and you sat up, half in his lap. "What is it?" Worry flooded you, and suddenly you were worried you were about to wake up. A million possibilities flooded your mind, each one worse than the last.

Alex was frozen for a few seconds, and then his eyes found yours again. You braced yourself for whatever he was about to tell you, stiffening in his hold. But nothing could have prepared you for what he said.

"I'm moving at the end of the school year."

Your mind blanked, and "What?" fell out of your mouth before you could regulate it. He was serious- you could see it. Alex would never joke about something like this.

He lifted his hand to your cheek, brushing away a strand of hair, the action seeming to ground him. "The job offer was confirmed this morning. I've been trying to figure out a way to tell you ever since."

"Where is it?" You had a million other questions, but this one made it out first.

"Seattle."

For the millionth time since you came outside, you were speechless. His hand was still on your cheek, and you leaned into it, blinking up at him in utter disbelief. "You...you..."

"I've been thinking about leaving for months," he said quietly, eyes steady on you as he spoke. Though the sounds of Frank Sinatra's Christmas hits were still emanating from the house, your ears were tuned into the sound of his voice. "I started looking, doing remote interviews. All the while I was telling myself that I could say no even if I got it. And then an opening came up where I knew you lived and I thought maybe..."

Alex Nilsen had never been one to do something out of the blue. He was meticulous and you loved him for it. You knew how comfortable he was in your shared hometown, how much being near his family meant to him. Even the idea of him thinking about leaving was indictive of something deeper than you could imagine.

"I accepted it," he confirmed, thumb still rubbing your cheek. "I'll start in the fall."

Emotions were running wild as you stared at this man who'd just proved he'd move mountains for even a chance at being with you. You'd loved each other your entire lives, but even then, you didn't think it ran so pure.

"You're leaving everything behind," you whispered, reaching up to hold his wrist. "How do you know it's going to work out?"

"My dad is fine. My brothers are fine," Alex said, and the way he looked at you nearly made the world stop spinning. "And I've never been sure about anything in my life, but I'm sure about this."

"We've only just reconnected this week," you said softly. "I don't want you to do this just for me. What if you regret it someday?"

"It was something you said to me that pushed me to take the job," he said gently, his other hand rising to your face. "You said that it would be okay if I didn't want to be here forever. And it made me realize that maybe I never have." Taking in a breath, Alex leaned in and kissed you so softly that you nearly melted. "I've loved you as long as I've known you. I would regret it if I didn't do this."

Now you were sure you were dreaming. It was so unexpected but so utterly him. To be so sure.

The holidays would pass. You would unwrap presents with him on Christmas morning and kiss him on New Year's. You would part in tears at the airport but with the knowledge that you would see him again as soon as possible. The future laid ahead with bright lights, winking and telling you it was going to be okay. Your past and future merged together to create now and it was wonderful because it was with him.

Nostalgia had led you back home. To a love you had thought past, but you knew would stay.

Even as you left, you would stay.

[atinyslittleworld]

18:19

a/n: Hello everyone!!! Thank you for all the love and support on Claimed. I’m so excited to share this second part of the story with you. I hope you enjoy how their story unfolds and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts. Also, wishing you all a very Merry Christmas Eve and a Merry Christmas! May your holidays be filled with joy, love, and warmth xx

Word Count: 1,417

Genre: romance, friends-to-lovers, suspence

Warnings: stalking, harassment, physical confrontaion, emotional distress

The night outside the club had cooled, the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog filling the quiet as Mingi drove Y/N back to her apartment. The weight of the evening still hung between them, the shared intensity of their earlier kiss making her pulse quicken whenever her eyes flicked toward him. His hands rested on the steering wheel with a casual confidence, but his jaw was tense, and his focus seemed sharper than usual, as if he were keeping his guard up.

Y/N broke the silence, her voice soft. “Thanks for earlier... I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t stepped in.”

Mingi glanced at her, his dark eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to the road. “You don’t need to thank me. You shouldn’t have to deal with creeps like that, ever.” His voice was steady but low, a thread of anger still simmering beneath his calm demeanor. “I wasn’t going to let him keep making you uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his words settled over her, easing the remnants of her nerves. She smiled faintly, turning her gaze to the window to hide the flush that rose to her cheeks. The city lights blurred past, the rhythm of the tires against the asphalt filling the quiet between them.

As they neared her apartment, Mingi’s grip on the wheel tightened imperceptibly. He’d noticed a car following them for a while now. At first, he dismissed it as coincidence—plenty of people drove the same routes late at night. But it had been at least ten minutes, and the headlights behind them had yet to waver or take a different turn. The uneasy knot in his chest grew tighter.

He stole another glance in the rearview mirror. The car was still there, maintaining a steady distance. Mingi decided not to mention it; maybe he was being paranoid. The last thing he wanted was to worry Y/N after the night she’d already had.

Finally, he pulled up in front of her building, the familiar sight of the apartment complex easing some of his tension. He parked by the curb, the streetlight overhead casting a warm glow over the car. Shifting into park, he turned to Y/N, his lips quirking into a faint smile.

“Home sweet home,” he said lightly, though his stomach still churned with unease.

“Thanks for driving me,” Y/N replied, returning his smile as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “And for everything tonight, really. I feel... safer with you.”

The sincerity in her words made his chest tighten, but he only nodded. “Always.”

They lingered for a moment, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Finally, Y/N pushed open the door, stepping out into the cool night. “Goodnight, Mingi.”

“Goodnight,” he murmured, watching as she walked toward the building entrance. His gaze stayed on her until she reached the door, his fingers gripping the steering wheel as if anchoring himself.

As she entered her building, Mingi shifted his car into reverse, ready to leave. The uneasy feeling from earlier still gnawed at him, but he tried to brush it off. He drove down the street, the tires crunching softly over the asphalt. But the further he got, the more his instincts screamed at him to turn back. Something didn’t feel right.

It was then that Y/N, now standing just inside the building’s front doors, heard a shuffling behind her. Before she could turn completely, a hand grabbed her arm with a force that sent her heart racing. She spun around, her breath catching in her throat when she came face-to-face with the stranger from the club. His eyes were glassy, his movements unsteady—a clear sign he was drunk.

“You think you can just brush me off like that?” he slurred, his grip tightening on her arm. His voice was thick with resentment, and the smugness he’d displayed at the club had curdled into something far darker. “I knew you were lying about him. He’s not your boyfriend.”

Y/N’s mind raced, fear prickling down her spine as she tried to pull away. “Let go of me,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “You need to leave.”

The stranger only laughed, the sound cold and unsettling. “You think you’re too good for me? Is that it?” His words were laced with wounded pride and the kind of entitlement that made her stomach churn.

Meanwhile, Mingi had only made it a few blocks before the nagging feeling became too much to ignore. He abruptly turned his car around, cursing himself for not trusting his instincts sooner. As he approached her building again, his worst fears were realized.

There, under the streetlight, stood the same man from the club, looming over Y/N with a grip on her arm. Mingi didn’t even think. He threw his car into park and bolted out, his long strides eating up the distance between them in seconds.

“Get your hands off her,” Mingi growled, his voice low and dangerous as he yanked Y/N behind him. His tall frame towered over the stranger, his body radiating protective fury.

The man staggered back slightly, clearly not expecting Mingi’s sudden appearance. But he recovered quickly, sneering as he looked between them. “You’re lying,” he spat. “You’re not together. She was just using you to get rid of me.”

Mingi’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t need to prove anything to you,” he said coldly, his gaze unflinching. “What I care about is you staying the hell away from her.”

The stranger laughed bitterly, but it lacked the confidence he’d displayed earlier. “You think you can just show up and play hero? She’s not worth it.”

That was it. Mingi stepped forward, his presence alone enough to make the man falter. “You don’t get to talk about her,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “And if I ever see you near her again, you’ll regret it.”

The stranger hesitated, the steel in Mingi’s voice finally cutting through his drunken bravado. With a muttered curse, he stumbled away, disappearing into the shadows of the street. Mingi didn’t move until he was sure the man was gone, his broad shoulders heaving with restrained anger.

Turning to Y/N, his expression softened instantly when he saw the tears brimming in her eyes. “Let’s get you inside,” he murmured, his hand gentle as it rested on the small of her back.

She nodded silently, her body still trembling as he guided her up the steps and into her apartment. Once inside, he locked the door behind them, double-checking it before leading her to the couch.

Y/N sank onto the cushions, her hands shaking as she hugged herself. Mingi sat beside her, his arms enveloping her in a protective embrace. “You’re safe now,” he said softly, his voice steady and soothing. “I’m here, and no one’s going to hurt you.”

Her tears spilled over, and she buried her face in his chest, clutching his shirt as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded. Mingi’s hand moved in slow, comforting circles on her back, his touch a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave her side.

“I was so scared,” she whispered, her voice muffled against him.

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I was scared too. When I saw him... I couldn’t think of anything but getting to you.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes red but filled with gratitude. “Thank you, Mingi. You saved me.”

His thumb brushed away her tears, his gaze tender yet intense. “I’d do it again. A thousand times.”

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the weight of the night fading into the background. Slowly, Mingi leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was soft and filled with emotion. It wasn’t like the fierce kiss at the club—this one was gentle, a quiet confession of everything he felt but couldn’t yet put into words.

Y/N melted into him, her hands clutching his shirt as if afraid he might disappear. The kiss deepened slightly, his hand cradling her face as his thumb traced soothing patterns along her cheek. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

“I can’t lose you,” Mingi whispered, his voice raw. “Seeing him with you... I nearly went mad.”

“You won’t lose me,” she replied softly, her fingers brushing against his. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

[ditzydarci]

BODYGUARD

warnings: use of y/n, alcohol use.

Rafe Cameron wasn’t the kind of man who settled down. Known for his wild streak, his devil-may-care grin, and a reputation that preceded him in Kildare County, he lived his life like a lone wolf—untamed and unbothered. But when his ranch work was done, and the sun dipped low behind the hills, you could always find him at the Last Call Saloon, a whiskey in hand and mischief in his eyes.

Tonight was no different.

Or so he thought.

Rafe had barely taken his usual spot at the bar when the buzz around the room reached him. Whispers of excitement floated through the air, and he noticed the way heads were turning toward the small stage in the corner. That’s when he saw her.

She wasn’t just another pretty face. No, she was the face.

The one that had been plastered on billboards, album covers, and gossip rags all over the South. Y/N, the Texas-born country singer who had taken Nashville by storm. What the hell was she doing in a placelike this?

His question was soon answered.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the bartender called, raising a beer to the room, “we’ve got a real treat for you tonight. Please welcome the one and only Y/N!”

The crowd erupted, and she stepped onto a table instead of the stage, her boots clunking against the wood as she strummed her guitar.

Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She was younger than him, too young, if you asked anyone with a lick of sense. But something about her captivated him. Her voice was a blend of honey and heartbreak, her lyrics raw and honest, carrying the weight of someone who had lived through more than she let on.

She locked eyes with him mid-song, and it was like the rest of the bar disappeared. For a split second, she faltered, her fingers slipping slightly on the strings, but she recovered quickly, her smile curving into something that could only be described as trouble.

When the set ended, Rafe thought about leaving. He didn’t need the temptation, and he sure as hell didn’t need to get involved with someone like her. But he stayed, and when she made her way to the bar, he was waiting.

“You always put on a show like that?” he asked, tipping his hat as she approached.

She smirked, resting her guitar against the bar. “Only when the mood strikes. You enjoy it?”

“Let’s just say you’ve got my attention,” he said, his tone laced with a playful edge.

“Is that so?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “And here I thought cowboys were supposed to be quiet types.”

“Depends on the cowboy,” he replied, his grin widening.

Their banter was easy, but as the minutes passed, Rafe noticed something. She kept glancing over her shoulder, her fingers drumming nervously against her glass. Finally, he leaned closer, lowering his voice.

“You looking for someone, or trying to avoid them?”

Her smile faltered, just for a second. “Little of both,” she admitted.

Before he could press further, the bar door swung open, and a man stepped inside. He was tall, broad, and carrying an air of authority that made the room quiet down. Rafe noticed the way her shoulders tensed immediately.

“Friend of yours?” he asked, his voice low.

“Not exactly,” she muttered.

The man’s eyes swept the room, landing on her, and a grin spread across his face—one that made Rafe’s blood run cold. He didn’t know what the story was, but he didn’t like the way the guy was looking at her.

Rafe straightened, stepping just slightly in front of her. “You want me to handle this?”

She looked at him, surprised, then smirked. “You offering to be my bodyguard, cowboy?”

He shrugged, his voice calm but firm. “If you need one.”

The man started toward them, and before Rafe could say another word, she grabbed his arm.

“Alright, bodyguard,” she said, her eyes sparkling with a mix of nerves and amusement, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

What Rafe didn’t know was that stepping in tonight would be the start of something he wasn’t prepared for. He’d protected her in that moment, but in the weeks to come, he’d find himself guarding more than just her safety, he’d be guarding his heart, too.