#i see that one hair strand in my dreams and its the first thought in my mind when i wake up in the morning

[balladofthe101st]

a moment of silence for this look on george luz. you are missed and loved

[kalystatheevil]

scaramouche is observing you, amused. you've been shamelessly staring at him from across the room for the past half an hour, like a baby seeing a stranger for the first time. "come," he says, and pats his lap.

cw: heavy voyeurism, intoxicated reader, dom!scara, fem!reader, noncon elements (but reader is horny af), 18+

heizou, aether, kazuha and childe look up to watch you walk towards him while continuing their conversation. after the party died down, they were lounging around on the sofas, talking in low voices.

scaramouche grabs your hips to pull you on top of him without hesitation, making you straddle one of his thighs. your cunt throbs hotly, pulling at your belly. a little shift, a little friction - instinctual, to find relief.

"ah… that's what i thought." scaramouche smirks. "not surprising after you kept fucking me with your eyes."

"scara... she's really fucked up. i don't think..."

"come on." scaramouche interrupts, relaxed. "ride my thigh so everyone can watch."

you must be dreaming. his ethereal blue eyes are so close now, seeing you, only you. your body starts moving all on its own, craving. It's bliss. slick seeps through your panties, your lips part to gasp, allowing mewls to pass.

it feels so good. his thigh is firm and eyes are tingling on your skin. you feel like you're watching yourself, rutting so pathetically on the thigh of someone so painfully beautiful.

"tell me, angel," scaramouche mumbles close to your ear, voice thick with lust. one of his hands rests on the small of your back, caressing it warmly. "how about i stuff your needy hole with my fingers, mh?"

you gasp, tingling. yes. yes.

no conversations are held anymore. in the dimly lit room, only your gasps and moans are heard next to the soft ambient music as you ride his fingers, dizzy from substances and pleasure.

"clench," he commands, and you obey. twinging pressure sears through you, so deep and intense that it makes you want to whimper, plead. "let it out… haha… let it out, baby."

the pleas tumble from your lips like marbles. he laughs, breathless, as you seek your own release on his fingers, caressing and stroking your insides. when you falter, he thrusts them up with his leg, so hard that you feel it in your entire body.

you come with intense shaking. time stops, zaps of pleasure chasing you as you slump against scaramouche. slick slides down the sides of his bare thigh, where his dark shorts rolled up.

nobody speaks. cocks find their way back into pants. some kindly avert their eyes.

a strand of your hair glides through scaramouche's fingers. "i like you, y/n." he watches it get caught on the wetness that's still on his fingers. his other hand never moved away from your waist.

"i think i'll keep you."

[hisui-dreamer]

😳😳 ace trappola and hibiscuses 🌺 for the bloom event……?? smth smth romance TEHEPERO 🫶 GL W YOUR ASSIGNMENTS RINNA!! EXCITED TO SEE WHATCHU GOT IN STORE

the heart's belonging

Pairing: Ace Trappola x gn!reader

Synopsis: in which ace finds you far too beautiful and can't help getting jealous when others realise that too

Tags: fluff, ace is an absolute teenager, jealously, he's also an absolute simp, basically a beach episode, slight pining

Word count: 680

Notes: thank you for requesting ashi!! you're the first too haha ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ this interpretation comes from malaysia, and i was so inspired by it the fic basically wrote itself haha! i hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist

flower of choice: hibiscus

It is said that wearing a hibiscus flower carries a special significance: placing the flower behind the left ear signifies "I yearn to encounter love," while placing the flower on the right ear indicates "My heart already belongs to someone".

Ace believes it's the teenage boy's dream to see their crush in a swimsuit.

What he didn't expect, though, was the surge of protectiveness that washed over him and how much he wanted to hide you from everyone.

He had only been away for less than ten minutes, offering to grab you a bottle of water when you mentioned feeling thirsty. But in that short span, a group of guys had already approached you. The sight of a few guys talking to you makes his blood boil. He quickens his pace, feeling a pang of jealousy rising within him.

"Hey, is everything okay here?" he interjects, his voice steady but his jaw clenched with an underlying tension.

The guys glance at him, sensing his protective stance. "Yeah, just chatting," one of them replies, though they seem to pick up on Ace's annoyance.

Without missing a beat, Ace steps closer, subtly positioning himself between you and the group. "Well, it looks like the conversation's over," he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The guys exchange awkward glances before nodding and backing away, clearly getting the message.

With the guys finally dispersing, Ace releases a pent-up sigh, a muttered "Tch..." slipping from his lips as he battles to quell his simmering irritation. Despite the knot tightening in his chest, he extends the bottle of water towards you, a forced smile masking his inner turmoil.

"Thanks," you respond, your eyes fixed on him with a curious intensity as you accept the drink and take a sip.

His gaze remains fixed on you, his mind swirling with thoughts of how alluring you look, now amplified by that damn red flower you plucked earlier, currently tucked behind your right ear. He finds himself entranced by the way the flower accentuates the curve of your cheek, how its vibrant petals seem to echo the flush of your lips.

But he knows that it's not the flower itself that makes you beautiful—it's you, in all your radiant splendour, that leaves him completely spellbound.

"...Aren't you bothered at all by those guys?" he asks quietly, a hint of jealousy evident in his voice.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. "No," you say thoughtfully. "They're harmless,"

"Harmless?" Ace raises an incredulous eyebrow. "Why?"

"They're not my type."

He pauses, processing your words before curiosity gets the better of him. "... What's your type then?"

You smile knowingly, your fingertips tracing the delicate petals of the hibiscus flower nestled behind your right ear as you tuck your hair in place. With a deliberate slowness, you pivot to face Ace, your eyes locking with his in a gaze so profound that it feels as though it's delving into the depths of his soul.

He finds himself completely mesmerised as the sunlight caresses your skin, casting a radiant glow that seems to highlight your every feature; the gentle breeze tousles your hair, creating a halo of golden strands that frames your face in an ethereal light; the vibrant hibiscus illuminating the clarity of your eyes under the golden rays of sunshine.

He drinks in every detail, every movement, etches itself into his memory, leaving an indelible imprint that he knows he will carry with him long after this day is over.

Your finger playfully jabs his chest, breaking him out of his trance.

"Bleh~" you taunt, your tongue poking out mischievously. "I'm not telling you!" With a teasing grin, you swiftly dart away, leaving him flustered by your evasion.

Before he can gather his thoughts, you're already in motion, leaving him trailing behind. "Wha- Hey, wait up!" he calls after you, his feet stumbling as he hastens to catch up, determined not to let you slip away.

A whirlwind of theories are swirling in his mind, but he is intent on hearing what your type is straight from your own lips.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[therealpie02]

One story at the hotel

Pairings: San x fem! reader x Yeosang

Summary: You and your friends stayed at the hotel after a good evening with alcohol. But alcohol wasn't to blame for what happened next. Your secret desires made you play with each other.

Word count: ~2k

Genre: smut 18+

Warnings: ITS A FICTION! Threesome, dom!San, dom!Yeosang, somnophilia, voyeurism (reader), oral sex (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names (kitten, honey, darling), squirting, let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: friendly reminder English isn’t my native language <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Judging by the way your head hurt, you had a great time with your friends at the restaurant. Then at the bar. Then on a visit. Then at the hotel. You hardly remember these places, as alcohol has taken over your head. Your mouth was dry, head ached, and it was cool under the covers. In general, the "best" hangover combo.

You needed to go to the bathroom. Opening your eyes a little, you couldn't see anything at first. It was probably still the middle of the night, and only the moonlight from under the curtains made it possible to see something. For example, you were able to identify who your roommate was. Yeosang was sleeping on the other side of the bed, and his beauty took your breath away. He looked like a sleeping beauty, his dark hair spread out on the pillow, a few strands fell over his face, which shone in the moonlight. You had a terrible desire to touch your friend, your thoughts were spinning chaotically in your head, and your gaze fell on his lips. Suddenly his lips parted and he moaned softly.

You're frozen in place. You tried not to breathe or blink. What just happened? Has Yeosang learned to read your mind in a dream? A simple coincidence? It's all alcohol in the blood, just a figment of your imagination. Yeosang was asleep, he couldn't moan. However, when he did it again, you lowered your gaze even lower. His magnificent body was completely naked, his chest heaved with deep breathing, the muscles of his abs tensed with one sigh, his stomach retracted and tensed, as if he was being given a blowjob. You were trying to keep all your composure when you realized that it turned out to be true. Above Yeosang's dick was San's face.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" your whole body tensed, you felt an incredibly strong arousal underneath. Maybe just knowing what's going on right now has made you so wet. You knew that there was a close bond between them, but you didn't realize that it was so close. And now you're in the middle of it all.

San, apparently, did this more than once, he slowly touched his lips to Yeo's cock, which, despite his master's sleep, became bigger and harder. The man didn’t want to wake up his friend, so he tried to do everything gently, slowly running his hand over the hardened cock. The pre-cum flowed from the head along the entire length and veins, and, frankly, the view was very appetizing. The naked San was lying on his stomach between Yeosang's thighs, his head slowly sank onto his cock, his lips captured the head and began to suck gently. From pleasure, San closed his eyes and with full pleasure continued to insert the cock further.

How hard you tried not to moan. Yeosang himself was still asleep, although he began to cry out moans more often while San enthusiastically sucked his cock. You couldn't even imagine such a thing, but you are watching them with your own eyes. You felt hot, you were ready to cry from how you wanted to touch your needy pussy. You gently lowered your hand to clit and slowly and silently circled it. A jolt of pleasure went through your body, but you didn't show it.

"Ah, mmff, ah" Yeosang began to wake up and at the same time slightly thrust his hips into San's mouth, to which the man sat down even deeper with a groan. Gods, your friend sucked another friend's dick. San started the cock by his cheeks, licked from the base to the head, without missing a single drop of pre-cum, smacking his lips with ecstasy took his thrusts. You have accelerated the movements of your hand, you feel that you will come very soon.

After a few more thrusts of Yeosang, you heard his long moan, saw how his stomach tightened and how he poured cum down his friend's throat. You wonder if Yeosang knows who did this to him? The answer didn’t take long to come. After San swallowed all the cum, he stood over Yeo's chest. With one hand, San caught him by the cheeks, forcing him to open his jaw, with the other hand he ran over his hard cock.

"San," Yeosang whispered, to which San ordered him to open his mouth wider with his hand. When you looked at San, you realized that San was looking at you. A heartbeat. You held your breath, your hand stopped masturbating. His closed eyes were looking at you, he smirked at you and cum on Yeosang's face. His cum got on his nose, eye, lips and mouth. Yeosang obediently took every drop with his mouth.

"Fuck," you whispered, squirming under the covers because you had never been so horny before. You wanted to hide and get free. You wanted to cum. And San realized it faster.

"Y/n, aren't we friends?" he asked, carefully pulling off your cover. You nodded.

"You won't mind, will you, y/n? Yeosang and I are friends, you and I are friends, and you want this too, right?" San pulled the cover off you, thereby revealing to himself a view of you in a T-shirt and in only lace panties. Yeo knelt next to San and also looked at your wet folds. Yes, you are friends. Yes, you wanted your friends terribly. Yes, you imagined these guys from your department fucking you. Yes, you wanted it to go on.

"Yes," you said confidently. San smiled, Yeosang smirked. They both reached for your face, and San kissed you first, wetly and casually, biting your lip. After that, Yeosang bit into your lips, forcing you to open up under his pressure. When you felt that he handed you San's cum, which was in his mouth, you moaned into his lips. Breaking away from you, San and Yeosang kissed and knelt down again. You didn't know if alcohol was playing with you or not, but you didn't care.

"Did you want to do everything yourself, kitten?" said San, spreading your legs wider. When he didn't get an answer, Yeosang grabbed your face.

"Did you want to play without us, honey?" left them without an answer, Yeosang pressed your face harder with his fingers. "Please answer."

"I... I didn't want to distract you."

"You wanted to leave us without fun, you bad kitten," San growled as he touched your horny clit. You felt everything begin to pull at the bottom of your stomach again. Gods… At this time, Yeosang pulled up that T-shirt, removing it from your body with one finger and clung to your nipple. You started to tremble and feel like you were going to make a complete mess. Right in front of your friends.

"San, no, no, now I..." you started, but San just started working faster on the clit.

"You're going to make a complete mess, aren't you?"

"San, Yeosang, let me go out, I'll come back, I..." you screamed when you felt two fingers pulling your panties apart and ending up in your pussy. They were Yeo's fingers.

"Do what we say," Yeosang flashed his eyes at you from under his brows, forcing you to give up all attempts to get out of this trap.

They continued to torture your pussy and you knew that you could no longer restrain yourself. Without stopping, with rhythmic hand works, your friends sent you over the edge of your mind. You screamed, not really worried that someone might hear, because you felt the most powerful orgasm in your life. Your juices started pouring out of you, but the men didn't slow down their moves, making you flow only harder.

"Damn, I..." You couldn't believe they made you squirt.

"Dirty dirty kitten" San smiled d to dimples on his cheeks "You just couldn't help yourself right in front of our eyes" he stroked your throbbing and wet pussy, making you tremble.

"I bet you've been wanting to do this with us for a long time, little slut," Yeosang's deep voice rang out.

"One day we will definitely do it again," and from these words of San, you loudly swallowed saliva.

"Now be a good friend, open your legs and mouth wider," San ordered, stroking your ass from below. You looked at Yeosang, who approached your face and took you by the hair. You obediently opened your mouth to his big and hot cock. He pushed half inside you, but you could feel the salty taste of his pre-cum and moan. Now you understood why San had such a face, it was impossible not to enjoy Yeosang's cock.

Meanwhile, San, watching you obediently accept a friend's cock with your mouth, entered your pussy with one thrust, forcing you to moan into Yeo's cock. He quickly picked up an accelerated pace and you couldn't focus on him.

"You better not get distracted, darling" Yeosang fixed your head with his hand and began to hip into your mouth, head touching the wall of your throat. The sensations caused tears to flow down your face, saliva to flow out of your mouth, and your pussy was approaching a second orgasm.

"San" after Yeo's conversion, San immediately came out of you and went to your face while Yesan came out of your mouth and took San's place. And you felt his cock in your pussy and the way he stretched you even more.

"You're such a good kitten, why haven't we played with you before huh?" without giving you an answer, San turned your head to his cock and entered your mouth at the same pace as a second ago into your pussy.

You were panting and moaning, you were squirming, but both guys were holding you tight enough. Who would have thought that you would live to see this? You felt Yeosang's hips become more chaotic and deep, knocking the air out of your lungs. After a couple of seconds, he pinched your waist in his hands and finished in you with hot cum. Damn it, your friend has cummed a whole bucket into you and you want to cum again at the very thought.

Still not fully recovering, Yeosang moved away and lay down next to you, returning the place for San and kissing your face and neck. San returned his cock to your pussy and moaned.

"You like to take everything from the two of us, right? Our friend's sperm has not cooled down in you yet, how are you ready to accept me?" you almost cum from these words. You started moaning and crying louder because San set an incredible pace of thrusts.

"Y/n, cum. Now," Yesan ordered in your ear and you obeyed him. Your walls tightened around San's cock and began to pulsate around him, from which San cum deep into you. After pausing for a couple of seconds to catch his breath, San came out of you and looked at that reddened and exhausted pussy, from which their sperm began to flow and he grinned at this view. San adjusted your wet panties and lightly patted your pussy.

He lay down on the other side of you and also started kissing your face along with Yeosang.

"You are so good, kitten, tomorrow you will walk with the same panties, communicate with others, knowing that our cum is inside you, feeling like such a pretty whore," San whispered stroking your whole body with his hand.

"You are a true friend, y/n," Yeosang whispered.

You lay with them and understood only one thing. Yes, you would like to repeat this night over and over again.

[vagabond-umlaut]

two shots of ristretto, please!

One must have heard of espresso, but ristretto? No?

Well, translated to 'restricted' in Italian, ristretto is another version of espresso, but of a sweeter and more intense quality than the latter— though, you reckon, there's no entity in this world, sweeter and more intense than that white-haired, blue-eyed enigma-turned-menace of yours.

▸ yakuza heir! gojo satoru x uni classmate! fem! reader; TIMESKIP; dad! gojo satoru x mom! reader; FLUFF AND HUMOR GALORE; popularising the headcanon that gojo is so terrifyingly gojo for everyone, except his crush; the said crush's smart & not dense, for the first time in my stories; there is yakuza so there's a gun and there's a tiny bit of violence; brief appearance of utahime, shoko, suguru & nanami; POST-TIMESKIP: the most adorable twins ever, sachiko and sachiro, are back, with tons and tons of fluff!!!!!

▸ belongs to the series 'tang!' — same universe as the work 'every rose and its 'twin prickles'' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i know i described the reader to be smart and stuff, but the thing is: she is smart, of sorts, that is. and the post-timeskip portion is tooth-rottingly fluffy but not for satoru; sachiko & sachiro will never let their papa get some loving from their dearest mama... AND this is 4.4k wc long— idk how i wrote so freaking much! anyways, whatever it is–

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Gojo Satoru was born with three things.  

His name. 

His looks.  

And, of course– the baggage certain to tag along with the above two. 

Cup of coffee languishing in the frost of your ignorance, you lock gaze, the first time, with the famous infamous scion of the Gojo’s, an awfully stormy morning at the café your friend works at.  

Said friend looks halfway on the path to sweet, sweet dreams, resting her head on folded arms on your table — smiling, you tuck a wayward strand of hair behind the shell of her ear, and return to your sly spying on the group seated couple of feet away. You think you see Gojo look at you yet another time — it must be an error of your eye, you reckon, given how he's giving a sharp grin to the man across from him, in the very next instant.  

Yeah, that's what it is. No one can possibly switch from shooting that level of thoughtful gaze to that level of feral grin in that short span of time. Yeah, it must have been a mistake of your silly eye.  

Anyways, whatever it is, to say you hate drawing attention to yourself will be the greatest understatement of the century— so you decide to look away for a beat, to avoid even the faintest hint of suspicion, eyes going back to the chemical reactions strewn across the mess you call notes— only to snap back to the white-haired boy, widening in horror from the click! then the scene crashing onto your brain.  

Gojo chuckles, eyes flitting from the gun aimed at the space between his eyebrows to the man holding it. "Aww," you register him croon, that self-sabotaging dumbass, "resorting to such cheap violence so quickly, Zenin-san? Grew tired of a civil conversation already? Tsk. What a pity." 

Another time and you think you'll consider this precise moment to be when you wake your friend up and slowly sneak away into the kitchen then out, via the back door. Another day and you know you'll consider this very second to be when you return your focus to your assignment on carbohydrates, all the while hoping you or your friend won't be cast into a brawl none of you are a part of— 

Too bad it isn't another time or another day, though.  

Biting back a grimace, you shut your laptop and rise from your chair with a loud clatter. 

"Forcing someone isn't really a nice way to make a deal, y'know," you hum, walking over to their table and plopping down onto the free seat next to Gojo, "what is better is to explain the pros and cons to the one opposite to you and try to convince them. Gently. And if that doesn't work, manipulate the hell out of them. But this?" you shoot the metal gun a disappointed glance, shaking your head, "this is a method even I know I shouldn't use to get my rival to agree to something, though I'm not from a criminal background." 

The man– Zenin, you correct yourself; the second largest yakuza clan right after Gojo's family, your memory supplies after a beat – gives a slow look from the weapon to you, a scowl appearing on his features. And barks – voice, a disgusting grating noise to your sleep-deprived self.  

"Who the fuck are you, girl? And why the fuck are you interfering in this?"  

You pause. Okay, this wasn't what you were expecting when you first strolled out here. You were expecting a yell, a scuffle; worst case, the gun aimed at your precious brain. But this? One question about your identity, and the other about your reason for approaching them? You haven't prepared yourself for this! 

Frowning, you cast a glance to your left, only to find the white-haired boy stare at you, staggered, with wide eyes and flushed cheeks; then at your friend who's snoring away like she doesn't give a damn about napping at work; then at the man glowering at you.  

You sigh, rubbing your temples. 

"Who the fuck I am... that's for me to know and for you to find out,” you answer, smirking, before growing serious again as you rush to explain, upon catching a murderous glint in the man’s eyes, “I mean, c'mon, y'all are the yakuza. This should be a piece of cake for you, shouldn’t it?"  

The man's glare only worsens in result; stamping down the apprehension in your mind, you continue, "And as for why the fuck I'm interfering in this—"  

You abruptly fall silent.  

Offering the boy beside you a panicky glance.  

Wondering what the hell you can say in reply. 

Should you say, "I've been listening to you threaten the poor boy for a good thirty minutes now, saying he's gonna face dire consequences, or some shit like that, if he doesn't share the area in the east with the Zenin's or refuses to marry their third daughter— who I'm pretty sure, y'all have made into nothing but a maid, a cook and a broodmare. Poor girl, being spoken of by her own family member to a stranger boy, as if she isn't a human being but something with no life or ambition. But, hey, how you raise your kids is honestly your own problem and I’m not here to drill some lesson into your head– though I guess, folks like you could really use some. Anyways, whatever the fuck it is, I'm here because I JUST CAN'T SEE ANOTHER BEING FORCED TO DO SOMETHING AGAINST THEIR WILL. AND I’M GONNA PROTEST AGAINST IT AS LONG AS I’VE A BREATH LEFT IN MY LUNGS." 

The inner-you tsks at the outer-you.  

You groan inwardly, shifting to the next plan already.  

So, must you say, "Gojo's my classmate, who has been sitting behind me since the first class of the year, and very weird to say, but I have also been finding him here at this coffee shop, every day I visit since that day, sitting at this specific table and scribbling in a notebook for hours at end— and, yeah, way weirder to admit out loud, but I guess I have also formed some kind of attachment to him? 'Cause of which, I feel, I get worried when I see him being actively threatened? And, yes, of course– all the while I totally ignore that he's next in line to a notorious criminal family or the fact that he's never even noticed me once before today." 

Another click! bounces off the walls into your ears, making you draw away from your mind back to the situation at hand. You settle for offering a shrug.  

"Why I'm here is because Gojo is one of my acquaintances and I just can't seem to stand someone being forced to do something against their will." 

Your statement earns a mocking laugh from the man, but before you rush to defend yourself and the fact you spoke the truth, a calloused palm rests on your forearm. Gojo's gaze flits from you to the gun still pointed at him then back to you. You feel a mild tremor in his fingers when they meet your skin. Good heavens, Gojo must be really scared, huh? 

His careful voice reaches you, a far cry from the haughty tone he was employing with the Zenin fellow earlier, "It's best if you leave now. Go take your friend and go away. And don't come back here. At least not until sometime later, yeah? Things are gonna get a hell lot messy and I don't want you to see that." 

For the first time in many days, the buzz of caffeine in your veins weakens, giving way to the thrum of worry you feel at Gojo’s words. Has this bastard already accepted his fate!? Hell no! Not if you can help it!!  

You give his arm a light pat. 

"While I leave you here, all alone, huh?" Shaking your head, you click your tongue. "Nope! Not gonna happen, mister. My parents raised me way better than that. Besides, you might not be knowing me but I've been knowing you for a while now, and despite what everyone says of you being the crown prince, or whatever, in the underworld — I ain't leaving you here, with your life at the mercy of a person who doesn't even have a shred of respect for others' freedom of choice and stuff." 

A noisy yawn sounds in the background, soon followed by a noisier series of snores. Gojo's mouth opens and closes a few times, like a funny fish, before he inquires, voice brimming with disbelief, "You... have noticed me? Since when?" 

You blink, then chuckle. "Of course, I have. Since the first day, if I'm being honest here," you reply, then add as a hasty after-thought, so that he doesn't see you as a weirdo, "I mean, it's tough not to notice you, y'know? Not when you're—" 

A deafening crash interrupts you in the middle of your sentence. You look away from the boy to find the man standing now, face contorted in a mix of fury and desperation while he shifts the gun's muzzle from Gojo to you, then back to Gojo, words leaving him in a harsh yell. 

"THE GIRL NOTICED YOU 'CAUSE YOU'RE THE GOJO SATORU AND YOU'RE HANDSOME AS FUCK. NOW, CAN YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH? AND YOU — YOU SICK, SPOILT GOJO BRAT– YOU SAID YOU DON'T HAVE A MINUTE TO SPARE? BUT HERE YOU ARE, CHATTING YOUR LIFE AWAY WITH THAT GIRL—" 

A second deafening crash reverberates through the small shop– and you think you see your life flash before your eyes– but not before the man drops to the ground, most probably unconscious and hopefully not too damaged to lead a functional life, and very earnestly not dead. The gun clatters to the ground beside him. You turn to your classmate, eyes wide. Gojo returns your gaze, unblinking and slack jawed. 

Heart thundering in your ears, you hurry to explain yourself, "I–" 

"You smashed that plate on that guy's head." 

Gojo’s blunt words bring you to a still, making your eyes drift to the fragments of the unlucky glass plate, to the unluckier but-totally-deserved-it Zenin, then back to your classmate. A little more awe on the boy’s face and you think his jaw might hit the floor.  

You nod slowly. 

"Yeah, but as self-defence. I mean, you saw how eccentric that man was acting, right? I had to do something to protect both of us," you explain, looking away from the pair of blue eyes watching you closely, to your friend who still seems to be lost in the land of sleep (how much exactly did she drink last night, huh?) to your grey sneakers, voice growing mumbled with every other syllable you utter.  

"But that doesn't mean you've to feel some sort of debt towards me or anything. I too was kind of at mistake then, I guess... what with me rambling so fucking much when there was a literal gun at your head. I should have acted with more tact then – if I had done so, then maybe this mess could've been avoided. I mean, I've never seen these things before in my life, y'know? Except in TV shows, that is. Yet, this foolish me here thought she could just swoop in and save you like some sort of a hero..." 

Sullen, you trail off, face growing warm from embarrassment whilst your mind devises a plan on how to clear up the mess you created, many thanks to your foolhardy nature, when a muffled laugh reaches you. Gojo's eyes twinkle in enjoyment at the bewildered huff you give him.  

"You did save me like a real hero back then, y'know," he says, grinning a wide grin – before it disappears, making way for a much reserved, much shyer(??) version. A giggly voice within you whispers he looks just as sweet as he did with his cute dimples. The boy continues, carding a hand through his mess of white hair, with a casual glance at the man, "And, as for the mess you keep mentioning, don't you worry. Gun shots create more mess than a plate smashed on the head. And if I can clear that within a minute– this won't even take me a full second, Miss Hero. Don't you worry for this at all. But, yeah, thank you." 

Now, you don't really know if it was the sincerity in his voice as Gojo thanked you, or the fact that he has to clean up the mess you made in the first place, or the stunned feeling so clearly visible in the blue colour of his irises when you admitted to noticing him— whatever it is, you find yourself not wanting to leave anything unsaid between you both.  

Moreover, the realization that lives are considered extremely low-on-value in the world of crime, so much that guns are whipped out at the tiny disagreements or boasts are made on how quick a gunshot mess can be cleared by them — this realization doesn't make things any easier for you. 

Giving the injured man and your napping friend a momentary glance, you return your focus to Gojo, whose eyes are now narrowed at his mobile, and speak those words weighing heavy on your mind right now.  

"I really noticed you since the first day, Gojo," you say. The boy pauses his typing, confused gaze darting to you. "But not just 'cause you're the Gojo Satoru, or 'cause you're really pretty — which you totally are, by the way— but mainly because you had ambled into our first class, on the first day, a magnificent hour late, with your two friends— and my first thought seeing you was, what sort of a fucking entitled brat is this guy, sauntering in as if he owns the entire place." 

A beat passes before the boy erupts into chuckles, though the tense quality of them doesn't escape your notice. Pocketing his mobile, he shoots you a small smile. "And what about noticing me after that? It was just my name and looks which kept your attention hooked onto me, wasn't it?" 

The question– the mumbled way it was asked, more so– sends you into a brief bout of musing silence. Gojo's eyes remain trained on you the entire while — quite contrary to the innumerable adjectives you've heard to describe them: oceanic blue, sparkling blue, mesmerising blue, kind-of-startling blue– you think they're just... blue. So blue, you wonder if there's anything as blue as that gaze peering down at you.  

Perhaps not. 

Lips curving into a smile, you hum, "Yes and no. Yes, 'cause that was the main reason why my eyes kept trailing you whenever we were in the same place. No, 'cause they were the reasons only until I realised what kind of person you are, and how very different you're from what I first thought of you. I got new reasons after those." 

"Mind telling me those new reasons?" 

Gojo's nervous question widens the smile on your face. Casting your friend a glance — goodness, how many drinks did she really have at the party she went to last night — you reply, making your voice light and friendly, "Your personality made me curious. You are old money, with good looks to boot— you're literally the heartthrob of every girl on campus! Still, I've never seen you with anyone from them— never with anyone outside your group of three friends — though, I got to admit, the blond boy looks nothing less than constipated for a week, when he talks to you." 

That last comment draws a chuckle from the white-haired boy. The tightness in his shoulders seems to relax a bit, you note with relief. Face still carrying the same smile as before, you continue speaking.  

"And the second point which made me curious was how different you behave in different places. Your voice rings across the cafeteria every day during lunch yet you stay so quiet here for hours at end. You once said you've never been much of a book person, yet I always see you in this shop, immersed in your notebooks. And– what has struck me the most of all is the way you tend to go out of you way to annoy others – I've been sitting in front of you in class for a good three months now, yet you've never ever irritated me in the slightest. Kind of strange, ain’t it?" 

Stunned silence comes as the answer to your question, what with the addressed classmate of yours, rooted to his spot on the ground, blue eyes as round as the plate you had smashed on the man's head some time ago and the expression on Gojo's face, almost as if you've grown a couple of heads in the while you have been chatting with him.  

Or more like monologuing, now that you think about it.  

This guy is always so chatty with others: he was even then with that gun cocked to take his life — then why the fuck is he so unspeaking right now, eh? 

"Oh God, Satoru, I can't believe your plan of lurking in the places she goes to, to catch her eye, worked out!!" "Are you asking her out right now, bro?" "Can you all please move? It's raining like hell outside and I'm not really keen to get my leather jacket wet, thank you." 

The noisy rumbles of rain and thunder stream in through the opened door, before the latter is closed again, snapping you out of your internal monologue, a bit too sudden and harsh for your liking. Three pairs of eyes regard you with an utmost curiosity — you return them a blink before dragging your eyes away and looking at the boy a good foot away, only to find him resolutely staring at the overhead lights. Two pretty long (and pretty weird) seconds pass before you finally decide to tear your gaze away from him to the rain-soaked glass window of the eatery.  

A face with creased brows and warmed cheeks greets you from your reflection.  

Screwing your eyes tight shut in an attempt to ward off an annoying headache you can feel build up, slowly yet steadily, you let out a sigh.�� 

Friendship with the Gojo Satoru seems good enough but romance with the Gojo Satoru... that doesn’t seem half-as-good, right? 

Right? 

"Wrong." 

Your son's insistent voice, coupled by the tiny fist he slams down on the table, breaks you out of your reverie and you turn to find Sachiro wearing a frown, tears brimming in his eyes– eyes which move away from his father and sister to you, pinning your drowsy form beneath the weight of their moisture.  

Stifling a weary sigh, you place the menu card back on the table and coo, "Aw, Sachiro! What's wrong, baby? Are Papa and Sachiko saying mean things to you again? Are they still teasing you regarding today's incident?" 

Although, you suppose to yourself, catastrophe might suit what happened today, way more than the word 'incident'— what with the shrieks, cries and yells resounding through your flat in the short time you took to get ready for your Sunday lunch at a restaurant. Rubbing his eyes a little, the little boy scoots closer to you and nods weakly, wrapping his tiny arms round you. Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you direct a stern look at the two sitting across from you.  

Sipping on the welcome drink, Sachiko just shrugs back at you.  

"I'm not the wrong person here, Mom. He is," your daughter explains, pointing a finger at her brother, then retracting it at your frown. Your husband snickers from beside her. “Yeah, sweetness, it’s Sachiro who’s wrong. Getting confused on when’s your birthday is no small mistake. Besides, our darling little munchkins taunt me the entire time if I ever make a mistake, no? Can’t see why they can’t stand a taste of their own medicine, then.” 

The sobs muffled into the cotton of your dress grow in intensity and misery. Sending her father a vicious stink eye, your daughter moves to observe you and her brother, a cute little frown on her face.  

"Okay, fine," she relents after a short beat, returning the lemonade to the table, "Guess I was a little wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have teased him so much, along with Papa, for messing up the date of your birthday. I also should not have said, he doesn't love you, some time back."  

A very weighted moment passes. The little girl jumps off her seat and reaches your side of the table, tiny arms reaching out to wrap around her brother. It takes a minute, and a small nudge from your side but soon enough, your two kids are hugging each other; Sachiro, a wailing mess, whilst Sachiko, being the older of the twins that she is, keeps saying 'sorry's' and patting his head, the exact same way their father does to them in times of their grave distress — when they throw a tantrum and get a nice long lecture from you, that is.  

Fond smile creeping onto your lips, you tear your gaze away from the two adorable angels of your life to your husband.  

Relieved to find him sans any teasing smile, you receive a gentle look from him, his hand reaching out to interweave his fingers through yours. You let him with a content hum, basking in the simple domestic joy seeping in through the sweetly scented air of the restaurant. A pair of plush lips press to your palm; biting back a giddy giggle, you throw the owner of said luscious lips a meaningful wink.  

Though... you doubt how much of your meaning could be conveyed to him... given how the two of you jerk back from each other a mere instant later, at the loud clearing of a throat from Sachiko and an angry 'Papa! Go away!' from Sachiro.  

Stomping back to her chair and settling into it with some effort and a huff, you watch an extremely pissed shadow form over the little girl's face, worsening as she twists and cranes her neck up to face her father. You really, really think your husband must not chuckle in this way in the face of such a thunderstorm— not when your daughter is shooting daggers with her gaze; and certainly not when your son is shooting that gloating smirk at him.  

Another time and you think you’ll look at that glare and at that smirk, then proceed to be on cloud-nine, realizing your children, despite being xerox copies of their father (both in looks and manners), did inherit certain features from you as well— something which a terribly competitive voice inside your head claims, is a great win— now, however, is decidedly no such time.  

Not when the person you’ve loved for these many years and know, will continue to do so for an eternity, looks one step away from being tormented to death– by none but the two milk-toothed lights of both of your lives.  

You watch Sachiko’s frown deepen, more than should be possible for someone her age, then begin. 

"Papa, I'm sorry but I have to break our deal. Sachiro is right. We two are the strongest duo of twins in the multiverse — we can't let you break our team this way. So, what if my brother makes a mistake? He's a young baby and babies are allowed to make mistakes, aren't they?"  

You wonder if she truly understands she was born a mere six minutes prior than her brother... and not six whole years, as appears to be the case right now. Holding back chuckles, you spare the person, addressed in the ‘not-really-apology' apology, an amused glance, then nod your head solemnly at her words.  

"They are, baby. They so are," you agree in the very next instant, then ask, a genuine inquiring inflection to your tone, "But what deal did Papa make you agree to, baby? Sounds pretty serious to me, to be honest." 

"Oh, it wasn't anything, sweet cheeks," your husband begins with an awfully nervous-sounding chortle; too bad, your daughter is quick to beat him to it. Throwing him a smirk, you can only describe to be devious, she looks back at you and grins. "Two weeks back, Papa found me in the living room, late at night, staring at shooting stars through the windows. And I found him walking away from the kitchen, eating a giant chocolate bar. Papa said you’ll be very mad because we didn’t listen to what you said, so, we should make a deal and become a team to keep this a secret from you." 

"Papa made that deal– only to divide us. So, our strong team can be destroyed and he can easily defeat us and keep you all for himself, Mama," your son chips in, puffy eyes narrowed into a very hard glare. Your daughter agrees vehemently from the opposite side.  

Your eyes drop to the glass of lemonade before you; you try your best to stifle the yawn.  

This fight over your affection has been going on since the time your children turned four or so... and despite them nearing an age of six in few months, no end can be seen in the horizon, to this war raging within your home...  

And as for the matter of Sachiko being awake way past her bedtime? You reckon you can't really do much on this, other than repeating the rules and the reasons behind each one of them– especially of punctuality and an adequate sleep– to her, like you did the last time... though, you think of toning your lecture down a little this time, considering it wasn't a video game but a meteor show she had stayed awake for... besides you too used to be — okay, no, wait, what??? 

Your husband's sheepish grin collides with the incensed glare you aim his way over the table. Letting out a frustrated huff of an exhale, your face turns away from his, choosing to stare at itself in the clean glass windows instead — too, too mad to acknowledge that white-haired, blue-eyed menace of yours, whining apologies with a pitiful gaze.  

You screw your eyes shut and let out a sigh. 

Being married to the yakuza king, Gojo Satoru, is a story, you deem, it couldn’t have been better, but being married to the sweet fiend, Gojo Satoru?  

Oh, sweet– no, strike that, you fucking hate that word—  

Oh, sour heavens above.  

That's a different story altogether. 

▸ if you've reached this point and still love me and/or my writing, istg I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH. writing something inspired by one's self-ship is so satisfying but so difficult, ngl. A BIG TYYY TO YOU WHO IS READING THIS LINE RN AFTER READING THIS MONSTROSITY OF A ONESHOT *sniffles*

▸ masterlist

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｌｏｖｅｒ ｂｏｙ♡

Pairing: boyfriend!felix x chubby!fem!reader

Summary: Your new boyfriend comforts you during a depressive episode.

Genre: fluff/angst-ish

Word Count: 849

Warnings: mention of depression/some dark thoughts & feelings

A/N: Just wanted to write something for anyone out there who might struggle with depression and need some comfort ♡

This couldn’t have happened at a worse time...

But it was bound to happen at some point, you think, burying your face in your hands, a puddle of tears forming in your palms. Things have been going so well with Felix, better than they have with any other guy. From day one he’s been your Prince Charming.

Taking you on dates to botanical gardens blooming with flowers you thought could only exist in fairytales. Packing you lunch for work whenever he stays over with cute little notes tucked in the bag to brighten up your day.

Felix is a dream come true for you. You wanted, with everything inside of you, to be the same for him, but all of that’s over now. You’re sure of it. It’s the first night you’ve spent at his apartment, mere days after the two of you became official, and you’re curled up on his bathroom floor crying your heart out at 2 in the morning.

It’s nothing he did. He’s been a sweetheart, as always, cooking you dinner and making sure that you’re comfortable. Still, depression’s found a way to creep up on you, flooding your mind with thoughts that tear at the thin layer of confidence you’ve been pouring all of your energy into maintaining.

The pain is like a ton of bricks in your stomach. An invisible hand around your throat gripping tighter the more you struggle to twist away. The voice in your head, telling you that you aren’t good enough, mocks you for being silly enough to think you could hide this part of you from Felix forever.

He’ll see you, really see you, and he'll hate what he sees.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Felix’s voice breaks through deep and scruffy from having just woken up, somehow remaining soothing in all of its power. Lifting your head up, you wipe your tears on the sleeves of your pajama shirt, positive you look a complete wreck. This is it. The end.

“I don’t…” you stutter, unsure of how to explain yourself, “I’m so sorry.” Based on the confusion that paints his face, you half expect him to back away only for him to do the exact opposite. He’s not running away, he’s grabbing handfuls of tissue, kneeling down beside you to tidy up your runny nose. 

“Talk to me. Did something happen? Did I do…” You sniffle, shaking your head, “It’s not you. It’s me. I’m just…fucked up I guess. Too depressed to keep my shit together.” Your head falls again, this time resting on your knees, and you close your eyes, wishing you could start this night over again.

For a brief moment, Felix shuffles around in a direction you can't pinpoint before two arms wrap around your body, hands clasped together where they meet your soft belly. He pulls you against his chest, strands of long hair brushing your cheek as his chin rests on your shoulder.

“You shouldn’t say that.”

There’s a sense of safety and connectedness within his arms that you haven’t felt in, well, ever. You're almost ashamed at how intensely his warmth shields you from the cold darkness closing in.

“You’re not fucked up. You’re just hurting and that’s okay. Well, it’s not okay but it’s…fuck I’m so bad at this.” Rolling your eyes, you reach a hand up to stroke his cheek, “Shut up. You’re not bad at this.” “Are we gonna sit here all night complimenting each other?” he teases, “Because we can. My butt will probably go numb though. I don’t have as much cushion as you. Don’t know what you see in me.”

The faintest giggle on your part has him kissing your neck, bear hugging you. “There’s my girl and that beautiful smile of hers.” “Don’t get used to it” you sigh, “It won’t last.” Felix just shrugs, “Doesn’t have to. I’ll still be here. I don’t care about you under the condition that you’re happy 24/7. You know that, right?” 

“I, well, I didn’t know…”

“Well, now you do.” 

His palm meets the back of your hand, fingers twining around yours to bring your arm down to your waist. “Let me be here for you. Give me a chance.” Hearing someone say that, hearing him say that, is more terrifying than you expect it to be. Trust is hard, trust is risky…

Felix leans forward to get a good look at you, a glimmer in his still sleepy eyes

…but if there’s anyone worth taking a risk on it’s the freckle faced boy staring back at you. 

“Uh…yeah…okay.” 

He smiles, “Yeah?”

 It’s impossible not to smile back, “Yeah.”  

“Good.”

Felix loosens his hold on you enough that he has room to lean his head on your back. “Want me to sing to you?” he yawns. You settle comfortably into the arms of your Felix, your safety blanket, letting your eyes fall closed from exhaustion. “Sing what?”

A stretch of silence lingers as he scans his brain for the perfect song to fit the moment.

“Oh! Got it! Fake eyes open…” 

“Felix!” you yell, slapping him on the knee.

“What? Bad timing?”

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 1,672

Warnings | +18, bullying, attempted sexual harassment, panic attack

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | I'm back with the second chapter of Happy Ending, I hope you can enjoy it 🥰❤

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

Toward the end of class, some had already turned in their drawings, others had yet to finish, and Jungkook intimated that they should bring them the next time they saw each other. Y/N shakily got up from her seat, sent down too much saliva as she came within a few steps of the boy, who lifted his face in her direction, giving her a warm smile. "Y/N! Are you done?" The girl nodded, unable to verbalize her thoughts, so she placed the drawing on the desk, bending down a bit, this gave Jungkook a chance to get a better peek at how she was dressed that day, drinking in the sight of her legs and imagining how soft and creamy they might be in his adoring hands. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the most unruly strands back, and Y/N froze, following his movements with her eyes.

"Wow, Y/N...great job, as always," he complimented, proud that his good girl had done such a detailed job of depicting the disembodied cloud with shapeless, skeletal hands-that to her was bullying, something no adult could see, but which managed to trap its victims in a spiral of suffering and muteness. The girl blushed at his words, bowing slightly before reaching her seat. Behind her back she sensed a slight snort that caused her to stiffen. Jungkook had to leave the command to another colleague, stared disgruntled at the girl, but vowed to do something for her, or rather, for both of them. He would not let that terrible pattern continue, Y/N deserved better, in his arms he would be able to give her the happiness and love she lacked, as he could clearly see.

And so the day continued, until it was time to return home.

Y/N hurriedly packed her things, the threat of Yoozu loomed over her, and anxiously walked out of the classroom. She didn't greet anyone, and no one greeted her, she looked fearfully at every corner of the corridors, a hustle and bustle of students and teachers did not allow her to increase her pace, she found herself pushing through the crowd almost in desperation, she wanted anything but to be in the jaws of her classmate. Oh, if only she had known... "So, beggar!" someone brutally grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to him right outside the university, Yoozu stared at her with anger concealed behind a fake smile, "We still haven't discussed the slap you so kindly printed on my face," he growled.

Y/N felt herself dying, she tried to wriggle out of her companion's firm grip, but it proved utterly useless, the boy's icy fingers pressed on her tender skin without restraint. "Let go of me! Let go of me, Yoozu!" she exclaimed in panic, her breathing shorter and her heartbeat faster, but he if possible painfully increased his grip on her wrist, painful bruises would appear shortly. "Not so fast, first you have to pay me back for the shit you made me look like today," he hissed, dragging her toward a more secluded alley, Y/N grabbed the mirror of a car parked nearby in a desperate attempt to save herself, but Yoozu was much stronger than she was, "Be good, I'll only need your mouth, then I'll let you go for today." Those words were the straw, the girl began to scream and call for help, Yoozu immediately plugged her mouth but it was too late. Someone had heard her, and that someone was smoking with rage.

"What the hell is going on here?" The quiet but unusually dangerous voice made the boy pale, and he suddenly let go of his grip on the girl. Y/N fell to the ground with momentum, right at the feet of someone she knew. She lifted her gaze and caught the icy expression on Jungkook's handsome face; she also seemed to catch a glimpse of murderous fury in his irises, but in fact she could not be one hundred percent certain. "I... nothing, I just wanted to apologize to Y/N for today," Yoozu dared to say, but Jungkook did not buy that pathetic excuse. "Is that so? It would seem anything but to me." Jungkook had seen the whole scene, had even managed to hear those vulgar words that had screwed up his self-control. "Professor, it really went like this! But Y/N didn't understand, she thought that-" a sob interrupted his absurd explanations, Jungkook's heart clenched, as did his eyes. "Kang Yoozu, you are expelled." "Wait, what! You can't do that! You are not the principal, and on the basis of what then?!" Yoozu panicked, Jungkook found it disgusting. "I'm not the principal, but I'm on good terms with him, as for the motivation...how does attempted rape sound to you?" he asked wryly, making the boy gasp. No, with such a charge no other university would have accepted him and his parents would have sent him to some godforsaken place in shame. "Professor, can we talk about this? Please, this will ruin my life," he prayed agitatedly, admitting his real intentions that way. "The more I listen to you, the more I want to ruin something else too! Get out of my sight, Kang!" he shouted furiously, Yoozu at first seemed not to understand, then casting a glance at Y/N's kneeling figure he took a step back and began to run.

Jungkook inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself somehow, he couldn't believe what had happened before his own eyes, he turned to the girl and felt only immense pain, she was on her knees on the icy asphalt wet with rain, she kept holding her head in her hands, trying to stifle her sobs. He lowered himself in her direction, god, she was beautiful even with her face overflowing with tears. He brought two fingers under her chin, gently forcing her to lift her face to his, chaining their eyes together. "Hey, Y/N..." he gently blew on her, gathering the tears that ran down her full cheeks with his thumbs, "Are you okay?"

If possible, Y/N exploded into more sobs, throwing herself on her professor. She pushed into his chest seeking comfort, Jungkook was frozen for a moment, he did not expect such a reaction from the girl, his heartstrings tugged filling with warmth, he returned the embrace immediately, holding that tender body to him. "It will never end," she cried into his neck, breathing hard between sobs and bathing the boy's skin with warm salt water, "It will always be like this." Jungkook stroked her hair, imprinting the sweet scent of her on his mind, mentally whispering to her that no, it would not be like this anymore, that he would protect her. "No, Y/N... I'll talk to the principal, they won't hurt you anymore, trust me," he said instead continuing to gently caress her back, having her like this was like a dream just realized, he didn't even know how long he had wanted it, "Can you trust me, Y/N?" He moved her face away from his chest, seeking a clear answer from her, he wanted to be sure she wanted his help. Y/N let a trembling sigh escape, nodding. Jungkook's eyes were so sincere and crystal clear that it was natural for her to trust him, although her body still trembled at the mere thought of what Yoozu wanted to do to her. "Yes, I can," she murmured, Jungkook felt the need to kiss her just then, she was so polite and tender his little girl, who knows if she would have said the same begging him to give her more.

"I'll drive you home, Y/N, I have my car right next door, okay?" the young woman nodded without thinking much about it, her mind still too shocked by recent events to really think. Jungkook helped her up, escorting her to his car as if she had been a little doll in his hands. They both climbed into the vehicle and Jungkook got directions to find their way, cast a glance at the younger woman's legs, his hand itching to touch them, but he forced himself not to go too far for the moment. Rather, he focused on the magnificent smell of his favorite student, but the closer he got to his destination, the more he found himself turning up his nose. He didn't like that neighborhood; it was one of the most dangerous in the fucking city. Every day on the news there were reports of robberies, or worse. He cast a sidelong glance at the girl, wondering how she had survived in that place so far. Knowing her in that bad place upset him in no small part, and when they reached the apartment building Jungkook's gaze grew hard-they could all get to those windows, they were pretty old, too.

"Well, I live here, professor! Thank you for the ride and... for the help," she found herself saying impishly, Jungkook melted into yet another smile that day, the real and sincere ones were all for her, she just didn't know it yet. "Just ask, Y/N...and I'll be here for you," he said earnestly, the girl nodded, unable to respond and opened the door to get out of the car, gave one last wave and then ran inside. Leaving behind the eager gaze of her teacher. She closed the door to her apartment behind her back, a deep warm throbbing did not hint at leaving her anytime soon.

Jungkook's presence was all she could think about, she let herself slide against the surface of the door, in her mind were imprinted images of the man holding the steering wheel firmly in his strong hands, his muscular arms still uncovered and damp with rain, seemed strong enough to carry her without any effort at all, not to mention how he had defended her without too much trouble, quietly defying the economic power of Yoozu's parents, she clutched her legs to her chest, hiding her red face between them. Damn, she was really in love.

[haruhey]

Wish I Never Met You

check out my masterlist!

Word count: 4k

Fluff | Angst | Thank you @weretheones and @normanplusdaryl for betaing <3

You’re part of Daryl’s past, but you could also be his future.

or

A bad day leads the two of you to each other.

or

Whoever said it’s better to love and lose Never loved and lost you

Daryl barely made it through sophomore year.

In all honesty, he was impressed he even got to junior year. When Merle left at the tail end of spring, he - in all of his younger brother naïveté - thought he would come back before the semester ended, taking him from the dump they called a house and from that asshole they had the unfortunate pleasure of calling their old man.

But July came and went, then August, and by the time the new school year rolled around, Daryl stopped waiting for him - just shouldered his backpack and went to school because where the fuck else was he supposed to go?

He gave the whole school thing two weeks. It was enough time to mark off attendance - to lay low before he traded his backpack for his crossbow and started hunting for that weird butcher shop three blocks down to make some money - and he had intended on following it.

Intended, being the right word, because the plan went to shit the second Mr. American History started pairing people up for those dumb, mandatory, biweekly collaborative projects.

Intended, because it just had to be you he was paired with, didn't it? His stupid classroom crush he tried so hard to stop thinking about?

He remembers seeing you for the first time in some math class in sophomore year, and he’d, in his hormone-ruled, bored-out-of-his-mind teenage brain, spent the better half of the period just looking at you. He never worked up the courage to say anything about it to anyone, but you were the prettiest thing he’d seen in his 16 years on Earth, and he hated the way you made his hands all clammy.

Even years later, he looks back on the months he spent being your friend, and he still feels that crushingly familiar clench of his chest.

Maybe it wormed its way almost permanently into him those weeks he first sat next to you in American History. It was a compulory course and both you and he hated it. The teacher - Durand, but Daryl took to calling him Dickhead and Deranged just to see which would make you roll your eyes the hardest - was a notorious douchebag, round glasses over a nose that was entirely too big to stay on his face and three strands of gray hair that seemed to be holding onto his head by spite alone.

He never seemed to take Daryl seriously, even though Daryl knew more than double the amount of history you did. You could pick his brain for hours about the pirates and the Sumerians and the Cherokee and their legends, and he’d let you, despite the glare that marked over his face for anyone else.

In exchange, you let him pick your brain, too. Over the piece of apple pie the two of you would share on the rare occasion you’d both scraped together enough to figure it would be worth buying, he asked about your future. He tried picturing himself with you through it all despite knowing there was nothing for him outside of this shithole town, and he listened to you talk.

He could listen to you talk for hours.

You had big dreams, considering you came from the same place he did, but he had faith you could do it. He knew you could, and even looped his pinky with yours, your thumb pressed up against his while he promised to make it to graduation. He had to watch you toss your cap and flip the bird at 4 years of hell, didn’t he?

But then winter came, and with the Christmas break rounding the corner, Merle came back too, peeling into the dirt road in front of the Dixon dump and taking Daryl along with him. You remember coming back when the second semester started, the same room that had once been used for History now a Government class, and you had hoped to suffer through it together.

You made it through one school week until you’d started asking around.

Nobody got themselves involved with the Dixons - with their surly tempers and their permanent scowls, but you’d gotten into the habit of ignoring those words when you were with Daryl - so when no answers turned up, you weren’t really surprised.

You figured he must have finally gotten his out from his old man.

It was only at graduation that you’d found out what happened to him, overhearing one of the principals talking about how both of Will Dixon’s sons had run away from home and how he’d drunkenly bragged about finally beating sense into them, and, though you knew it was selfish, as the ceremony ticked on, you still hoped Daryl would come back in time to watch your cap toss.

He never did.

When he finally did come back to Georgia, it was a little over a full year later. The old lady that ran the diner the two of you hung around after school had told him that you got a scholarship offer in May - some bigshot school out west - and that you’d packed your bags and left in August.

You weren’t set to come back until the year ended in April, and he wasn’t planning on staying.

He wasn’t planning on making staying anywhere a habit, and, in the blink of an eye, twenty years passed.

A second blink and the world fell.

Everything changed so quickly that it truly did feel like an instant as minuscule as a blink - the dinosaurs had the meteor, and life before them had the ice age - and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a breath before a new age flooded in.

It seems like everything he thought about was about the future. Some of it he would have considered trivial before - when the next meal would come, when the next time he’s going to fill his canteen is and where the next source of freshwater is - but, in this blip of time, he hesitates to call it that.

Sometimes, when he went out on his bike or shouldered his crossbow and slipped his knives into his holsters, he thought about how Li’l Asskicker and Carl would grow up - how they would never really get to be kids in the same way Rick probably wanted them to be - and almost nothing he did felt trivial anymore.

It scared him, he guesses - how much he cared about those kids and how much everyone else did, too.

He wished someone cared about him like that when he was younger.

It was good, though, this pressure. Daryl was never really one to half-ass anything in the first place, but with the intake of Woodbury and the Council’s decision to start bringing people in, there was a new drive to care. It rippled through the prison, and he liked it, being a part of something bigger than himself.

He felt like someone new.

Someone that mattered - that did good - instead of being some asshole with a bigger asshole for a brother.

At least, he did until he saw you.

Two weeks after taking in the people of Woodbury - with one week spent out recruiting and another spent in the infirmary because they’d met some less than friendly people who definitely did not fit the recruitment criteria - he saw you from around the corner, an all too familiar face helping Carol with meal prep in the courtyard.

He didn’t eat lunch that day, and to say he avoided you was an understatement.

There was something about you that brought back feelings he would have rather left in the past. You reminded him of when he was a teenager, stuck in his shitty hometown with his piece of shit old man and no way out. But at the same time, you reminded him of those nights spent down at the creek, skipping stones and staring at the stars, that comforting lack of second-guessing because he knew he was, for the first time in his life, in the company of someone who actually wanted to spend time with him.

You reminded him of that diner with the warm apple pie, and he never could forget the first time his heart ever beat against his ribs like it was too big for his chest.

But, most of all, you reminded him of first love and his broken promise - of a future he could never have had.

Daryl hated it, being confronted with his past like that.

So yeah, maybe he did revert back to his old ways of hiding and just trying not to think about his problems, and yeah, maybe he did take one too many runs back to back so he wouldn’t have to keep fighting the urge to look for you despite simultaneously being scared shitless at the thought of talking to you, but it was successful in staying away from you, and that’s all he cared about.

Or, well, he thought it was.

Because, though it’s been nearly two decades since you’d thought about high school - with it long since becoming college, and college into adulthood - it’s crossed your mind more than you’d liked to admit lately. It’s an odd feeling, an ill-fitting nostalgia creeping through the holes of your blanket-covered cell bars, but it was oddly comforting. You never thought you’d ever think of that place as comforting, but maybe it wasn’t high school that you found yourself chasing in the dead of night.

It was him.

Daryl never really knew how popular he was - here, and back then, when those minutes before and after gym class divulged into shushed remarks about his looks and half-serious confessions of crushes muttered to the secrecy of the changeroom’s four walls - but you did. You were always on the other side of it, silent in your agreement.

Woodbury - or, well, ex-Woodbury - was no different.

He’s a far cry from that scrawny little kid you split your lunch with all those years ago, but there's still the linger of boyish handsomeness to him that made your cheeks heat when you thought about him too long. There was no mistaking him for anyone else, but that subdued, ultraviolet warmth you’d grown familiar with was gone from his eyes.

He’s not seventeen anymore, flipping his uncut hair from his face as he taught you how to skip stones and catch fireflies, but you wanted to talk to him all the same. There’s not much left from the old world - let alone much that you could have considered good, or wanted to remember - but he’s one of the few things you’d cared enough about to keep safe from the pulling tide that faded your memories.

He made that shitty town more bearable, even if it was for those few months. Gritting your teeth and enduring had become tiring until he’d grimaced at that first History Inquiry project and made you laugh with the annoyed upturn of his lip. 

You’d planned on thanking him at graduation, but he’d left months before then. 

You’d planned on a lot of things to be frank, but there’s no reason to linger in the past when now is a shell of what then was.

There’s even less of a reason when now feels heavier than then ever was.

Today would have marked ten days without incident, a first foray into the monumental double digits until the sun had set behind the return of the run crew’s RV and Beth was forced to flip the number back to zero.

It’s been four hours since they came back - a quarter of the group gone from the unfriendlies they’d met, another dealing with the aftermaths of the encounter and one more made up from those the crew’s recruited - and it’s the first time in those four hours that you’ve left the dingy wing of the infirmary.

You didn’t hate it in there. Far from it, actually, with Hershel and the others being half-decent company and seeing the work you did benefiting people, but the infirmary, especially on days when the crews rounded back, meant the stinging smell of blood and death lingered no matter how much you scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. It stuck to every crevice on your body, and it permeated. Guilted you for not trying hard enough and not knowing enough.

On days like this, everywhere you went seemed too small and too unforgiving, and you’re not sure if you can stand tossing and turning in your bunk. The night sky is a friendlier sight than your ceiling, and the view from the abandoned watchtower is a hell of a lot better than the tiny, barred-up window at the corner of your cell.

If you’re lucky enough, maybe sleep will steal you for a couple of hours before the sun comes up. At least enough to make it through the next day.

You have faith it will - you can already feel the first wave of exhaustion pull at your bones.

Taking a breath, you press your hands into your pockets after pushing the door to the Prison open and slipping out. Autumn is beginning to seep through the cracks of summer and the nights are starting to get colder, but your jacket should be enough until you climb up and find sanctuary in the sleeping bag you’d left there three days ago.

It doesn’t take long to reach the door - if you jig the knob to the right before twisting and skip the third step from the top, the trek upwards is close to silent - but when you open it, the creak yields, at first, an expletive before the annoyed voice tears through the quiet.

“I already told ya I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout-”

The volume of him makes you take a step back, the sound of a man making your body lock up for just a second before you recognize the mess of hair atop his head and the wings stitched on the back of his vest, and you make quick work getting to him, crossing the platform in a single stride.

“Daryl?”

And he’s quick to realize the person speaking to him isn’t Carol like he’d thought. Though he really really really hopes it’s not you, the familiarity of your voice leaves little room for speculation, even before he turns his head and - for the first time in a long time - really, really looks at you.

“Oh.”

His heart beats in his ears and locks his throat before he can muster up anything else to say, and for a second, you wonder if you should introduce yourself to him. 

“Sorry, I, uh, wasn’t expectin’ no one to be here.”

But the knowing upturn of his eyebrows - his apology, and the way he scoots himself over to make room for you the same way he did in those library reading nooks - tells you you don’t need to, and your shoes slide against the concrete as you drop down to a sit.

He remembers you, too, the sweat of his hands too obvious with the fact, even though he wishes he didn’t.

He wishes there wasn’t a familiarity in the way you sidle your body against his, swinging your legs underneath the railing and over the balcony, and he wishes he couldn’t feel the heat coming off of you.

He wishes it didn’t wrap him up like the warm rays of sun, and he fights down a smile at the fact that you always were so bright. He wishes he didn’t remember you like that - glossed over in a blinding, yellow hue.

Daryl wishes he never remembered you like sunshine - he wishes he didn’t still.

Picking up the glass next to him - just to occupy himself and bide the time until his nervousness hopefully washes away into general apathy - he takes a sip before setting it down and taking a pull of the cigarette in his other hand.

The smoke is slow to fill his lungs, but he welcomes it anyways, holding it there as the nicotine-drawn buzz settles in his brain, and then he breathes it out, angling his head up and away from you.

You never liked it, the Malboros he’d swiped from his old man that he’d keep tucked in the smallest pocket of his worn-down backpack, but you’d told him one night, not unlike the one you’re both trying to find solace in right now, that you were scared of what his father might do if he found out.

Then you slipped in the obviousness of his health, just to break the tension of vulnerability, but it hit Daryl like a truck, the fact that he’d never had someone think about him like that before - like they actually cared.

“Heard your brain cells can rot if you do that.”

He raises an eyebrow at you only to be met with a small smile playing at your lips and the slightest bit of a sparkle in your eye, and the taste still lingering on his tongue reminds him of what he’s been doing. The glass is half full with the room-temperature whiskey he’d tried to make himself feel better with after stitching up his own wounds, and there’s ash from his smoking gathered beside one of the railing's poles, and despite the knowing you’re probably right, he sighs, waving your concern away.

“Ain’t worried. Don’t got a lotta them anyways.”

The cigarette between his fingers is lit still, and he takes another drag before the grayed end of it crumbles to the floor, fighting the upward tug of his cheeks at the sound of your amused huff and your quick response.

“That’s why you gotta take care of the ones you still have, Daryl.”

Scoffing, he tilts the edge of the glass towards you, holding it out for you until you take it from him, and he tries not to think about how the tips of his fingers burn when they brush up against yours. It’s not as sweet, the innocence of a teenage crush long since faded into the dull pang of expired love and loss, but it rushes through him all the same.

He would have offered you a cigarette, too, but you’ve never been one to pick up habits that bad.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you then, the sky offering a serenity the two of you are less than strangers to, and you wince from the liquor when you finally take a sip. It’s nothing like the moonshine he’d smuggled from his dad’s stash - it went down a hell of a lot smoother than you remember that shit going - but your tolerance has taken a nosedive since weekends unwinding and inter-departmental parties had ended.

Besides, the only places you could get alcohol back in Woodbury were way above your paygrade.

Placing the cup back onto the concrete, you steal a glance at Daryl, spending just a second studying the curve of his nose and the jut of his cheekbone. He’s more handsome than he’s ever been, and you can feel the heat rush up your neck before you blink away the thought.

Get a hold of yourself.

But you can’t, not when he’s so close, and you’re not sure if it’s wholly unselfish, what makes you drop your eyes down from his face, but you do, and you realize why he was so on edge when he heard the door open.

He’s fidgeting. Ever since he put out his cigarette, he’s restless and can’t quite figure out what to do with his hands in the same way he was when you’d asked him why he never wanted to go home back in the school library, and it sends you back, too, a familiar pit growing in your stomach. It’s like he’s that kid again, scared of telling you - or, well, people - things that hurt because his stupid brother and dad drilled into him that he’s less of a man for even feeling hurt in the first place, and it’s equal parts infuriating and concerning.

You can tell that the gears are turning in your head as you try to piece him together; a run crew came back just today, and you haven't seen him in a little while. It doesn’t take a genius to make the connection - especially with everyone’s propensity to talk about how Daryl brought them in - and though you might regret it, you decide to pry.

Not pry, just ask.

Conversation used to flow so easily between the two of you. Were you naïve to hope it would again?

“Bad day?”

It’s small, your voice, teetering in the air with its uncertainty, but Daryl doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he glances down at the space between you, wrapping his fingers around the highball before meeting your gaze, and he bites the inside of his cheek, weighing the option of telling you or not.

“Jus’ tired is all.”

And though he hesitates those first few words, your eyes are so kind - so genuinely caring - that he can’t stop himself from saying more.

That was what he was scared of.

Why hasn’t he let you go? 

“Sick’a fuckin’ losin’ people.”

The frustration when he speaks is palpable, and you’re not sure if it’s bravery or stupidity that makes you move - maybe it’s both, culminating in your own desire that someone would finally see through your crippling bravado and offer you a hug or something - but your hand snakes out to grab his before you even think, shaking it slightly in the strength of your squeeze.

Then he freezes, and for a second, you think you must have overstepped - that he’s going to push you away and yell at you and leave - but he doesn’t. He just takes a breath, the heft of it rising his shoulders then dropping it as he squeezes your hand back harder, a silent thank you in the press of his fingers against yours.

But still, he lets go, afraid the warmth in his chest might make him do something he regrets, and you chew at the dried skin of your lip, thinking about the right thing to say.

Fuck, you could never navigate things like this - it got better as you got older, sure, but words always seemed to fall short when it came to you and him - and when you finally settle on something, half of you wonders if it was just because you thought it better than nothing.

“I feel you.”

Because what else are you supposed to say? That it’s going to be alright and that he shouldn’t blame himself because it's so blatant he is? It’s thin ice you’re walking on, the fear of sounding patronizing drowning out the spark of hope you want to light him with, because you remember the man he was. He’s never had anyone fighting in his corner, and you’re not callow enough to think he thinks of you as something - someone - different.

But he does. He does think of you as someone different, and he wants to say more, but he doesn't know where he stands with you, or with himself. If he says what he’s thinking - that he feels like it is his fault and that he’s not sure if he could ever stop feeling like that. That he’s scared shitless and like it’s some big joke that people actually look up to him for things - wouldn’t that make it feel too real?

So he doesn’t. He just tips the lip of the glass against his and takes another sip to make sure his mouth is occupied, staring down at the bottom ridge of it until you speak again, and he’s helpless to do anything but look at you.

“At least it’s beautiful out tonight.”

He’s sent back to twenty years ago then - the scrawny redneck you’d somehow deemed good enough to be your friend forcing his old habits back to the him of the present - and he can’t help the squeaked little noise of a response. Words have always been hard for him, too. They’re hard for him to think of and even harder for him to form, and it’s made worse by the fact it’s almost like he’s back at 16, convinced that you’re too pretty to talk to.

“Yeah.”

And though you hear his hum of agreement, he never looks away from you, admiring the curve of your familiar smile and the rise of your cheekbones.

The lurch of his heart comes back then - the same beat against his ribs that he hated all those decades ago - and it’s stark then, the realization you’ve never really left him.

“Ain’t never seen nothin’ like it.”

Pressing his lip to the edge of the glass once more, he welcomes the burn of whiskey when you smile at the moonlit horizon, and he watches as you lean your chin against your arms.

You’re beautiful - more beautiful than all the colours in the star-speckled sky - and he could stare for hours.

[runaway-dreamers]

An opportunity for Wally request has arrived!! Exited-exited!

Since im a tiny bit evil it would be fluff turned angst >:)

How about while Wally and Reader cuddle, Wally asks about our heartbeat, we answer explaining that its a sign of us being alive, as a consequence of that he learns about our mortality

Ty for your consideration 🌹

Hmm, I'm a little awkward here. I do hope you like it! Thank you, Anon!

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Here in deeper conversations, I find myself wishing to be folded into you.

The Everyday Life of Wally Darling

Word count: 1,116

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

The sun dipped low in the cloudless sky. Shadows of buildings were slanted across the now empty roads, a deepening orange filled the spaces between. A breeze lifted the weightless blinds filling every corner of the room with the smell of late spring afternoons. The gently lifting and falling curtain cast its own shadow on the two sleeping bodies held close to one another. 

You were laying on your back with Wally's head resting on your chest. Your hand was gently combing through the soft blue waves of his hair. A comforting silence had built around you. Nothing was said as his hand pressed gently against their skin. It gave way, but remained taut against the pressure. What started off as helping a stranger turned into this.

During that time spent caring for each other things were thought of, but never asked. Questions weren't able to pass from their lips. There was a clear wall between the two. A wall that made conversation tough. They would converse about the general, but just as important, well being of one another. They would chat about Wally's new painting. You would ask about the different techniques he used this time around, and he would give them all the information he could offer. The two were close friends. 

There was a mutual understanding expressed in eyes half-looking as they passed by one another. They shared it when they said their goodbyes or see you later. They shared it when talking over morning coffee. A moment's grief made painfully acute by avoidance. They ignored it as much as they possibly could hoping that this was the correct path. 

It must have grown over time nurtured by him admiring you in the morning sun as they gazed into eyes still glittering from sleep. It may have been when you first saw him with his hair down watching the sun rise from the kitchen window. All you really knew was that this little pang of joy grew into a pulsating surge of longing. Without much words spoken the both of you had begun sharing a bed. Wally would go quiet first as he felt the tautness of your skin. His head would always rest on your chest. Your hand always traced along the fine stitches on his body. 

The first time Wally had his head on your chest, he had squeezed you so tight and pressed his ear as close as he could. You said nothing when he did this, but you could feel the racing of your heart. At some point you had slept and woke to him still listening. He never asked. You never offered.  

The growing weight of unspoken words would always become too heavy, and those questions must flow. Wally moved propping himself up on his elbow. His thick blue hair slipped from between your fingers. The movement roused you from your sleep, and you looked at him concerned. 

"Neighbor, I've been meaning to ask," His voice was low as he spoke, "What is this sound in your chest? Is it a crank? A voice box?"

Wally rested his hand on your chest, his fingers curled and his pointer gently tapping to the rhythm of your heart. His eyes held the same sweet look they always did. The same look you'd always seen when he offered you tea or a bite of his apple. His hair hung down to the side with strands caught in the golden hours glow, and you wanted to run your fingers through again. He looked like a dream, a fantasy. 

"That's my heart. It keeps the tempo of my life." 

Wally stopped tapping as you spoke, "Keeps the tempo of your life?"

His confusion was showing. The walls were slipping. The moon had risen and the night spread its deep blue glow. They stared at one another waiting to see what would happen next. Behind the silence tension had sprouted.

"Yes. If it stops, well, it means the show's over." You tried to laugh away the uneasiness hoping the conversation would change quickly. 

Wally laughed montone and robotic, "Hahaha, what show would that be?" 

"The, uh, Y/N show." Your heart sank. 

He was confused, "How would I turn it back on?" 

"You can't. No one can, really. Maybe I'm not explaining it right," You sat up, "My heart is why I'm alive. When it stops beating I'll be.. not alive." 

Wally sat up and stared at you, his eyes never leaving yours. They widened as yours winced. 

"What happens when you're not alive, neighbor?" 

"I imagine it's us returning to the primordial soup, the creation of all things, but I don't know." 

"So when your heart stops, you'll no longer be here?" Wally's voice cracked as he struggled with the weight of what he just learned. The pieces were not clear and didn't fit well together, but from the jagged edges came an idea so startling it caused him to cry. You pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back and kissing the side of his head. Neither of you spoke as Wally clung to you listening once more to your heart.  

"That isn't right now. Right now I'm here with you still living, still with a beating heart. You can hear it whenever you need to. Imagine my heart beats for you, too." You spoke softly, your words barely a whisper in the dark. 

You sat there for a while just holding one another. It felt like new questions were waiting to pour out from the both of you. New conversations waiting to be explored. Things to understand and things meant to cause arguments. Why did it suddenly feel like these things now had an even tighter deadline? Like they might not ever be spoken of. The potential of you and I was a burden threatening to drag us under. 

With Wally's head against your chest and your hand absently rubbing his back, you could let yourself believe an ending was far off. This moment could last forever through the winding night, through the rising sun, and through the cool blue of daytime skies. If this was the anchor in the now uncertain ending then so be it. Assume for a second this is all there is. Being here together for a moment in a lifetime of change and hardship was more than enough.

"If.. You leave. That loss would change me. You'll have gone somewhere I can never go." Wally spoke next, his voice would shake and crack. 

"An eventual inevitability, but not right now. I promise I'll stay right where you can see me for as long as I possibly can." 

"I'll memorize the tempo of your life, Y/N."  

[hikakuriyyu]

Tension. (part 4)

⁎ warnings: romantic slasher ? mentions of death, mentions of blood, mentions of AND !murder!, manipulation, kissing, female!reader.

⁎ summary: you fell for him. hard. the murders started, and you knew it was him. billy lured you into his dark and twisted intentions. it was so wrong. but it doesn't feel wrong... there was something stopping you. or someone.

⁎ author note: i hope your guys been enjoying the last few parts cuz thinking of a plot is pretty hard 😭. and its my birthday :D so nice, lol. here you go nena :).

You stood there, frozen, your mind racing. Everything felt like it was crashing down all at once. Billy was already outside, waiting for you, the clock ticking faster with every second. You knew what he expected, what he needed you to do to prove you were really in this with him. But killing Dewey? It wasn’t supposed to come to this. You didn't wanna do this.

You swallowed hard, staring at your ghostface costume lying on the bed, the mask staring right back at you. This was it. You knew that if you backed out now, Billy would never look at you the same. This was the moment. You had to show him you were serious. That you loved him.

With shaky hands, you grabbed the costume and slipped it on, the mask feeling heavier than it ever had before. Every step you took downstairs felt like the floor might cave in beneath you, but you kept going, gripping the knife tightly in your hand. Your heart pounded in your chest, but all you could think about was Billy.

This was for him. You were doing this for him.

You hide in a closet and wait for the right moment to come. ''You can do this...'' you thought to yourself. You were so nervous for the first time, maybe you still had sympathy in your heart. You hear a few footsteps coming and prepare yourself. The footsteps inch closer towards the closet. At the right moment you jump out and stab Dewey's neck, hoping that would kill him instantly. Dewey placed his hand on his neck, trying to stop it from bleeding out. You watched the scene unfold, instantly regretting what you had done. Dewey lets out a few chokes before he takes his last breath, body going rigid. You stayed there and looked at his lifeless body. He didn't deserve this...

You snapped yourself out of it and quickly ran to a near window and climbed out before anyone could see you. You ran to the fountain where Billy wanted to meet, hoping he'd be waiting for you there. You see his distressed face, thinking you maybe had gotten caught. He notices you and quickly walks up to you. ''Did you do it ? Is he dead ?'' he asked you eagerly. You look around, making sure no one was in sight before taking of the mask, nodding at his question. ''Yeah...'' you say with obvious guilt on your face. Billy cups your face and presses a soft kiss on your lips. ''Hey... don't worry. You did the right thing. If you didn't kill him we would've been caught by now. But we're free. Together.'' he says softly, brushing a few strands of hair out your face. You relax under his touch right away, thinking about it from a postive perspective. He's right. If you got caught, you wouldn't be able to be with Billy anymore. You couldn't bear separation.

You smile at his words softly before nodding. ''Yeah. I guess you're right.'' you say before looking at the ground. ''What now ?'' you ask, thinking about what's about to happen next. Billy smiled, taking your hand. ''Let's run away together. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.'' he said as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Were you dreaming ? ''Oh my God...'' you exclaimed, not taking your eyes off him. ''Let's go.'' he said as started walking, still hand-in-hand with you. This is the best and worst day of your life.

He walks you to his house, since he lived alone. You walk into Billy’s dimly lit home, the atmosphere heavy with a mix of fear, excitement and uncertainty. The house is eerily silent, as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Billy locks the door behind you, his movements calm and collected, while you stand in the living room, fidgeting, unsure of what comes next.

Billy leans on the wall, crossing his arms, watching you closely. He could tell you were a little on edge. ''Relax. We're safe here.'' his voice is smooth, confident, as if the events of the night didn’t affect him at all. He pushes off the wall and walks over to you. You look at him, the guilt evident in your voice and body language. ''I actually killed Dewey... he didn't deserve it. He was so sweet. I took his life away.'' you say as you take off the ghostface costume, setting it down somewhere before you take a seat on his couch. His eyes narrowed as he followed you, sitting down next to you.

Billy smirks softly before putting his hand on your thigh. "And you did it for us. That’s what matters." He scoots closer, his tone shifting to something softer, almost affectionate. "Don’t you see it now ? You’re free. Free from all those people holding you back." he added. you nod slightly, still unsure, your mind swirling with conflicting emotions. Part of you is relieved to be with Billy, but the weight of your actions lingers in the back of you mind. You look away hesitantly. "Why did it have to be him, though ?'' you say, your voice breaking slightly.

Billy grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him, his expression darkening. "Deserve ? None of them deserve anything. They were all just in the way. You need to understand that. They were part of the game. Just like Sidney." his voice is low, almost a growl, but then his grip softens, his tone changing to something gentler, more... manipulative. "But now, there’s no one left to tear us apart. You and me… we can start over. Together."

Billy wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. You can feel the warmth of his body, the intensity in his touch, and despite the chaos inside you, you find yourrself melting into his embrace. There’s a strange comfort in his possessiveness, in the way he makes you feel like the center of his world. You lay your head on his shoulder softly. "And what now ? What do we do next ?" Billy smiles, stroking your hair as if soothing a child. "Now ? We disappear. We leave Woodsboro behind and go somewhere no one can find us. Just you and me. Doesn’t that sound perfect ?" he said.

There’s a pause, the idea of running away together sounding both thrilling and terrifying. You know what they’ve done can’t be undone, and there’s no turning back. But there’s still a nagging doubt, a hint of hesitation. "And what about... everything we’ve done ? What if they find us ?" you ask him. Billy pulls back slightly, looking down at you with that same smirk. "They won’t. We’ll be ghosts. And even if they do... we’ve come this far, haven’t we ? You trust me, don’t you ?"

His gaze locks onto yours, challenging you, daring you to question him. You hesitates but then nods, feeling the intensity of his control over her. Your trapped, but willingly so, tangled in your obsession with him. "I do. I trust you."

Billy leans in, pressing a slow, possessive kiss to your lips. It’s not just affection—it’s a claim, a reminder that he owns you now.

To Be Continued...

[doumadono]

EMERGENCY REQUEST

Hello my dear friend.. I apologize for using your emergency requests for something so trivial, but my nightmares have been absolutely killing me.. I'm always so terrified to go to sleep and even when I do, the nightmares plague me so badly that I hardly ever feel like I've slept at all and I feel like I'm losing my mind. I just want to scream and cry and rip my hair out, and I just want to sleep and actually FEEL like I've slept.

But all of that out of the way, I was hoping you might be able to do something with Douma, Akaza, and Kokushibo (all three or just one is fine) who are with a male human s/o who suffers terribly from night terrors and how they might help comfort their s/o.

Thank you so much for being such a beautiful, kind, loving, wonderful human being. I adore you so much 💜 You are truly such a warm presence in my life and I am so grateful for you

Upper Moons 1, 2, 3 & male s/o suffering with nightmares

A/N: oh, tiger, I'm so sorry to hear that you've been going through such a challenging time. Your well-being means a lot to me, you know that, and I'm here for you. First and foremost, your well-being is never trivial, and your struggles are always valid. Remember, it takes immense strength to share such vulnerabilities, and you've already taken a brave step. It's okay to feel overwhelmed, but never forget the strength that resides within you. I'm honored to be a part of your life, and your warmth and gratitude mean the world to me. Take one step at a time, and I'm here to support you through every single one. 💜 Always here for you

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Douma

In the dimly lit room, shadows danced on the walls as Douma's boyfriend writhed in the grip of night terrors. Douma, the Upper Moon Two, lounged elegantly nearby, observing with an unsettling mix of curiosity and amusement. A sadistic grin played on his lips as he observed the torment consuming his partner's dreams.

Despite his typically twisted nature, Douma was surprisingly attuned to the human psyche. He approached the boyfriend's trembling form with a languid grace, like a predator closing in on its prey. "Oh, my dear," he purred, "how delightful it is to witness the chaos within your mind."

"It's terrifying, Douma-sama," the man sobbed. "I don't want to see all those things..."

As his arms encircled his partner, there was an unexpected gentleness in the demon's touch, as though he had momentarily set aside his sadistic tendencies to embrace a softer side. His long fingers with sharp nails traced patterns on the man's back, a delicate dance that contradicted the ferocity he often exhibited.

In a voice that, against all odds, carried a sweetness the man never thought possible from Douma, he whispered into the man's ear, "My love, do you feel the warmth of my embrace? It's a flame that burns brighter than any darkness." His breath was a soft caress against your skin, the chilling aura he usually exuded replaced by a comforting warmth.

He traced a finger along his boyfriend's cheek. "You know," he mused, "the beauty of your nightmares is exquisite. You need to embrace the terror, my love, for in it lies the true essence of existence."

Akaza

Akaza, the Upper Moon Three, approached the scene with empathetic demeanor. His eyes softened as he observed his boyfriend's restless sleep, a stark contrast to the ferocity he displayed in battle. Kneeling beside the man, he gently brushed a strand of hair from his face. "Hey there, don't worry. I'm here," Akaza spoke in a surprisingly soothing tone, his usual aggression replaced by a comforting warmth. "Nightmares can be tough, but you're tougher. Remember that."

The man sobbed quietly. "I hate it. I can't rest because of those nightmares. I feel so lost."

"We all carry burdens," the demon confessed, "but facing them head-on makes us stronger. You don't have to face them alone."

Seated together, Akaza allowed his partner to snuggle against him, his muscular frame providing a comforting warmth. His normally intense gaze softened, revealing a tenderness that was reserved for moments like these. His fingers traced soothing patterns along the man's back, a silent reassurance that the man was safe in his arms. "Hey," he spoke in a voice that rumbled like distant thunder, a stark contrast to the gentle caress of his touch. "You're safe here. No need to carry the weight of the world right now."

"It's alright to lean on others," he admitted, surprising himself with the admission. "We all need someone to rely on from time to time. So do I, a demon, whose fragility would be the last trait anyone could fathom."

Kokushibo

Kokushibo, the Upper Moon One, approached the situation with an air of detachment. He observed his partner's night terrors with an analytical gaze, as if deciphering a complex puzzle. While his demeanor remained cool, there was a subtle undertone of curiosity in his voice.

"Nightmares, a manifestation of the mind's deepest fears," Kokushibo remarked, his words carrying a wisdom earned through centuries, "One must confront the shadows within to achieve true serenity."

"It's hard to confront them, Kokushibo-sama. It's like being swallowed by some invisible force that no one can fight."

Rather than offering immediate comfort, Kokushibo encouraged introspection. He guided his boyfriend through a mental journey, dissecting the roots of the man's nightmares and addressing the underlying fears. His words, while cryptic, carried a strange sense of reassurance.

"Conquer your demons, and they shall trouble you no more," he declared, his gaze unwavering. Kokushibo's approach might seem cold, but it aimed at empowering his partner to face his fears head-on, emerging stronger from the depths of the night. "Confront the specters haunting your dreams with unwavering resolve. Your mind is a battlefield, and you, the warrior, hold the power to shape its narrative. Close your eyes, not in retreat, but in preparation. In the silence before sleep, let the echoes of your courage drown out the whispers of fear. Your resilience is a beacon that can pierce through the darkest of nights."

[thefallennightmare]

Fika-Joakim 'Jolly' Karlsson: 1/2

*made by @madomens. check her out!*

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Joakim 'Jolly' Karlsson x OFC.

Warnings: some angst, swearing, lots of fluff, smut, mentions of death.

Summary: To appease her dying father’s wishes, Astrid takes over the family coffee shop: Fïka. Plans to restore it to its former glory: setting her dreams and ambitions aside- that is until she meets an unexpected stranger. This very stranger changes the trajectory of her life.

Authors Note: Ok what originally was a 26k word one shot is now a two parter! I have the link to part two at the bottom of this one! Enjoy my lovelies. I hope you all enjoy my first time writing Jolly. Oh, make sure you all pay attention closely to this 😏 It took me a month to write this btw.

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @sammyjoeee @somewhere-diamond @concreteemo @ladispo0p @to-be-written @lilmonster218 @whenthesummerdies @lizzieseveride @blackveilomens @malice-ov-mercy @lma1986 @klutzy-kay24 @baddestomens @cncohshit @jilliemiw86 @cookiesupplier

ASTRID

“Son of a bitch,” I grumbled while struggling to carry the large and heavy box from the stockroom up to the front area of the cafe. 

Another curse fell from my lips as I nearly tripped over the discarded and broken coffee machine that I seemed to have forgotten was lying on the floor. Then when I walked past the break room where two of my employees were enjoying their break, one of them waved me over. 

“Yes?” I grunted while pausing for a moment, still carrying the large box. 

“The turbo oven is doing that thing again where it either burns the food or doesn't cook it at all,” Jessica said with a frown. “Any idea when the new one is supposed to come in?” 

I nodded towards the box. “Two steps ahead of you.” 

As I went to push myself through the door that encased the back of the cafe from the front, my other employee, Sean, yelled after me. 

“The front door is getting stuck again! Can you WD20 it again?!” 

“IT’S WD40!” I yelled back. 

Pushing my way through the door, I felt the box beginning to slip between my sweaty fingers and I quickly walked over to the front counter, letting it fall onto it with a loud thud. 

Curious eyes from the few customers landed on me and I smiled sheepishly while shrugging. “Sorry.” 

“Uh, Astrid?” 

Whirling around, I brushed away strands of my white hair to see another one of my employees standing in front of me with an apologetic face. 

“Oh no,” I shook my head. “What’s broken now?” 

“The sink in the restroom is slow to drain and we’re running low on cold foam,” Tori said with her hands behind her back. 

“Low? How?! We’ve only been open a week and that stock was supposed to last us at least three!” I exclaimed with a high squeaky voice; one that only showed when I was stressed. 

“Sean doesn't understand the measurements,” Tori sighed. “I’ve gone over the sheet with him like four times but he still doesn’t get it.” 

Running my hands over my face, I let out a deep and calming breath, which seemed to help until the front door rattled before being thrown open, almost smacking against the black brick. 

“Jeez, you should really get this door checked out.”

Whirling around on my heels with a low scowl, I was ready to lay into this person because frankly, it was one thing after the other and I’ve fucking had it. But when I took in the appearance of these two guys, I quickly shook my head, heart dropping into my stomach. 

“You guys aren’t supposed to be here until after closing!” 

There’s that high-pitched voice again. 

“Yeah well,” the guy carrying a bucket and paintbrush shrugged. “We finished our other job early so we thought we could get started here.” 

I hired this local paint company to paint the tallest wall inside the cafe only because I didn’t have a tall enough ladder to reach the highest point. I painted everything else but didn’t want to bother with this one; it was right in the middle of the cafe lobby. 

“No, that’s not going to work,” I walked around the counter so I could stand face-to-face with this guy. “I have customers and I can’t have you paint while they’re in here.” 

“Listen, lady, all due respect-.” 

I craned my neck to the side and let out a low hiss. “I fucking hate when people say that.” 

The two painters shared a look before the one who seemed to be in charge raised a brow. “What?” 

“Typically when people say all due respect, it’s rarely followed by a respectful remark,” I said with my arms crossed. 

“Did you want us to paint this wall or not?” The guy who had been silent spoke. 

I snapped my eyes over to him. “Do you want my money or not?” 

That seemed to have shut both of them up but my hands were still shaking as my heart was hammering hard in my chest. Ever since we opened this morning, it seemed like it was problem after problem. 

Why the fuck did I agree to take over this place? 

Because it was your father's cafe and his father’s before him. You promised you’d take care of it when he passed.  

Running a tattooed hand through my long hair, I let out a deep breath. “I closed at nine. Can you come back then?” 

The one painter shook his head. “Nope. We don’t work that late.” 

Glancing at my watch, I noticed that it was barely one in the afternoon, and with less than eight hours left, I had to make a decision quickly. 

Biting the inside of my cheek, I eventually nodded. “Fine, you can start now. But please, be respectful of my customers.” 

There were only three customers in here currently, a total of six since we opened at nine a.m., but I didn’t dare let them know. 

Leaving them to do their work, I let the heels of my combat boots thud against the aging wood floors as I walked back behind the counter to go over the mental checklist of my list. 

Unclog the bathroom sink.

Order more cold foam. 

Personally show Sean the correct measurements. 

WD40 the front door. 

Set up the new turbo oven. 

Quickly tying my hair into a braid, I set to work on the list. Had I known the amount of work and updating this cafe needed before I took it over from my father, I would have said no. I was twenty-five years old and had the rest of my life ahead of me, I didn’t want to be stuck trying to keep this place above water. 

Fika first opened sixty years ago when my grandparents came to the United States for an opportunity for a better life. From day one it was a music-themed cafe where they had live music nights every Friday. It succeeded well after they left it to my father when they retired. He hated the live music nights so as soon as he took over, he axed that idea. 

However, when my father got sick about five years ago, that’s when everything went to shit. 

I grew up inside of these walls and saw the stress it brought on my parents until they divorced when I was twelve. My mother wanted nothing to do with this place, claiming it was cursed, so she left. 

My father did his best to raise me solo while trying to run this cafe full-time. I would help out when I could; be here in the morning before school then here right away after school until closing. I would sit in the corner booth in front of the window to do my homework in between bussing tables. It was like that every day until I turned eighteen and went off to college. 

But any weekend I could, I’d be right back here to help my father out. Then when he got sick five years ago, I dropped out of college so I could stay home full-time to take care of him. He was in this place every single day until the day he died a few months ago. It didn’t make a lot of money the last few years so not only did he leave me the cafe, he also left me all of the debt. I wasn’t drowning in it, I still have a decent amount in savings to at least update it but not enough to create a living. 

So that was why I had put the word out that it was for sale if anyone wanted to purchase it. I needed the money to pay off my father's debts and at least survive the next few years until I figured out what I wanted to do with my life. 

With a groan, I stood slowly from my crouched position as I finished fixing the front door and smiled in victory when it didn’t stick. It was after three in the afternoon and peering over my shoulder, I noticed that the painters were finishing up the now black wall and I had to admit, I felt giddy when I saw my vision slowly coming to life. 

I had a red neon sign that read Fika and I planned on hanging it up on that wall and then hanging a bunch of different guitars around it; my grandfather’s favorite on full display. 

Yes, I did have plans to eventually sell the cafe but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy getting it to where I envisioned it.  

Wiping my hands on the back of my black jeans, I set to work on reading the manual for the new turbo oven, wanting to make sure that I understood every aspect of it to show my employees. 

“Hi! Welcome to Fika!”

Jessica’s cheery voice greeted a new customer who stepped inside, the little bell that hung above the door ringing. It was a special bell, my grandparents brought it with them when they moved here. It hung up in that same spot for the last sixty years and I planned on taking it with me if this place ever sold. 

I paid no mind as I focused on now setting up the turbo oven in its new spot on the back counter. 

“Uh, Astrid?” 

My shoulders slumped at hearing Jessica’s wavering voice from behind me. I didn’t bother turning around; not yet. Maybe it was a simple fix that she could handle on her own. 

“Yes?” I answered while wiping down the new oven. 

“The credit card machine isn’t working,” Jessica now stood in the side of my vision so I had no choice but to turn towards her. 

“I swear if my hair wasn’t already white, the stress of today would have given me gray hairs,” I joked with a faint smile as I turned toward the register. 

My eyes were cast downward to the small white credit card machine, not bothering to gaze up at the customer. 

“It’s working fine,” I showed Jessica. “You just have to remember to type in the total before hitting payment.” 

“OH! Makes sense,” she squeezed my arm. “Sorry.” 

I waved her off. “It’s fine. It’s a new machine so it will take some getting used to. I’ll ring him up if you want to start on his order?” 

With a nod, Jessica scurried off to make the drink as I finally gave the person on the other side of the counter my attention. 

“Hi, it’ll be $3.25.” 

However, my breath caught in my throat at the sight of the man in front of me. Dark amber eyes shined back at me, long strands of even darker hair cast around his face, and his pink, plump lips curled up into a faint smile. The facial hair that encased around those lips made my stomach twinge in the best way and when I caught sight of the small nose ring, I nearly fell to my knees. 

It wasn’t until I saw the black card in front of my face that I snapped out of my ogling and took it with a blush covering my cheeks. 

Ringing him up, I handed back his card with a slight waver in my hand but ended up dropping it on the counter before he had the chance to grab it. 

“Shit,” I cursed as I went to reach for it but ended up knocking over the small tip jar, coins spilling over the counter. 

“Fucking perfect!” I groaned while throwing my head back. 

Could this day get any worse?

An older couple that was sitting on the stools at the bar a few spaces down from me gave me an ice-cold glare. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to curse,” I apologized with a fake smile. 

Even though I never watched my mouth around anyone, I couldn’t risk scaring off customers because of my vulgar words. 

I made fast work of picking up the spilled change and placed it back in the jar before looking up at the man through my lashes. 

“That will be up soon,” I cleared my throat. 

The man smiled, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of my face. “Thank you.” 

Oh fuck. 

Those two words alone made my cheeks deepen even more in a shade of crimson because there was a hint of an accent to them. I couldn’t place it but it sounded heavenly to my ears. 

Turning swiftly on my heels, I scurried to the back, not wanting to embarrass myself in front of him anymore. 

About an hour later after catching up on all the office work I had, I ventured back up to the front of the cafe when I was told the painters had finished and were waiting for a check. 

“We’re all finished, ma’am,” the older painter said with a thin-lined smile. 

My own matched his when I handed him the check. “Thank you. It looks great.” 

He went to leave but slowly turned around. “Fika? What does that mean?” 

I broke out into a genuine smile when the memory of my grandma telling me why she named this place came creeping into my mind. 

“It's Swedish. It essentially means coffee break,” I answered while pulling my black cardigan closer to me. 

As the painters left, I turned to my right to look up at the freshly painted wall and kept smiling. 

“Looks good.” 

Looking over my shoulder, I nodded to Tori. “I’m just glad they managed to stay out of customers' way.” 

“Speaking of customers,” Tori smirked while pulling me closer; she was fresh out of high school and any chance she had to gossip about something, she took it. 

“That guy in the far booth hasn’t stopped staring at you since you walked out here,” Tori whispered low in my ear. 

I raised a brow. “Who?” 

She rolled her eyes, the color matching the blue apron she wore, and turned my chin to face behind me where I saw the man from earlier, perched in the corner booth; exactly like she said. 

He had a laptop on the table in front of him and a notebook next to it; the pen scratching quickly against the paper. As if he felt me staring, his eyes bounced up from the notebook to land on my face. Our eyes locked in such an intense battle of who would look away first but neither of us gave up yet. With the way he was watching me, it brought a heat to my insides and I swallowed thickly, my mouth suddenly running dry. 

“You should go talk to him,” Tori pushed me a little his way. 

I dug my heels into the ground. “You should get back to work.” 

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” she giggled while throwing a hand over her shoulder as she turned to head back to the counter. 

With one final glance over to the man in the corner booth, I bit my lip when I realized he was still watching me with curiosity in his eyes. I felt this unknown pull in my heart, dragging me over to him, and as my foot took one step in his direction, Sean’s voice called from the back. 

“UH, ASTRID! WE HAVE A PROBLEM!” 

Son of a bitch. 

ASTRID

“Wait-what do you mean delay? I was told the sign would be here last Friday,” I groaned into my phone. 

“I’m sorry, miss, but with all the shipping delays it might be another week until you receive what you ordered.” The sales rep said. 

I pinched my eyes shut and sighed. “I need that sign. It was for the outside of my cafe, right now I have a dingy one that has been here since my grandparents opened and the ‘A’ is barely hanging on so now all it says is FIK so imagine my horror when people keep saying “Oh my, fik is a terrible name, dear.” 

I was rambling on to this complete stranger on the phone because of my stress and nerves. When I first took over the cafe a few months ago, the outdoor sign was old and broken so I ordered a new one but I had hopes that it’d be here before I reopened. 

Wrong. 

“I don’t know what else to tell you. We’re hoping to have it for you by the end of the month.” 

“THE MONTH?!” I nearly screeched as I came to a halt in the middle of the cafe lobby; curious eyes landing on me. 

Sean furrowed his brows while making a drink. Waving him off, I turned my attention back to my phone. “Is there any way you could put a rush order on it? Please.” 

“No,” the sales rep deadpanned. 

“Gee thanks,” I grumbled before hanging up the phone, stuffing it angrily into the pocket of my olive green jumpsuit. 

Running both hands through the long strands of my hair while I muttered a few curses. It seemed as if the last week had continued problem after problem. 

The sink in the bathroom ended up having to be replaced. 

Torri accidentally dropped a stack of brand-new coffee mugs, breaking all of them, so I still need to go out and buy some more. 

The new employee I hired last week didn’t show up for their third shift this morning, meaning we were down a person. When I texted them, they never responded. 

There was a family of raccoons living next to the dumpster outside. Sean wanted me to call animal control but I immediately declined. They weren’t hurting or bothering anyone so they could live there. 

“What are we, a wildlife rehab?” Sean asked with disbelief. 

I raised a brow while crossing my arms. “Sean, are you afraid of a couple of raccoons?” 

He scoffed. “Please. Those things just eat trash and cause havoc.” 

“Well, they’re staying. If anyone doesn't like it, they can come to me with their complaints,” I pointed my finger playfully at my employees.

With a sigh, I busied myself for the next little while cleaning up tables, talking with guests, and helping out my employees with anything they needed. I was a hands-on owner and boss, always helping when I could. Anything to make their lives and jobs easier. 

Every so often, when I mingled with the guests, I let my gaze drift to the empty corner booth; where the mystery man sat every day for the last four days. He never came at the same time but when he did show up, I managed to always be busy with front-of-house things or stuck in my office. But when I wasn't in my office, our eyes would catch every so often. However, it was my nerves that stopped me from going to ask him if he needed anything else or to strike up a conversation with him. 

Flirting in general was easy for me but with this man, his dark yet bright eyes locked me into place with a swollen tongue every time his gaze struck me. 

“Astrid, my dear!” 

Pausing from refilling the straws, I glanced at the open door and smiled at one of Fika’s regulars from when my father owned it; an older man named Phillip. 

“Hi, Phillip. How are you?” I helped guide him to a table against the black-painted wall; still empty. 

I haven't had time to hang up the variety of guitars that were slowly overtaking my office. 

“Fine, fine,” he patted my hand as I slowly helped him into the seat. “Just here for my usual honey tea with-.” 

“One piece of lemon so you can squeeze it yourself and two cannolis,” I finished for him with a nod. “Coming right up Phillip.” 

Turning on my heels, I peered over to the counter ready to tell Tori about the order but raised a brow when I noticed no one standing behind it. Glazing at the clock on the opposite wall, I cursed when I remembered that Tori’s break was now and Sean was busy watching a safety training video in the break room. 

As the door above the bell rang, indicating a new customer, I glanced down at Phillip while tapping the table. “Give me a bit and I’ll hand deliver it myself.” 

He paused reading the newspaper to give me a warm smile. “Of course, dear.” 

“I’ll be right with you,” I then called to the tall man standing at the counter but froze when our eyes met. 

His usual long hair was pulled back into a low bun, showcasing the hardness of his jaw, and I absentmindedly licked my lips. He wore a simple gray hoodie and black jeans but something about this casual outfit made my stomach flip. Since his hair was pulled back I was able to see the small piercing in his left ear. 

“Take all the time you need. I’m in no rush,” the mystery man smiled while holding onto the strap of his bag; the same bag that he brought in every day. 

I’ve come to notice that it held his notebook and laptop, with the occasional book he brought out to read every so often. 

“Th-thanks,” I stuttered while rushing behind the counter to get started on Phillip’s order. 

As I was pouring the tea into the cup, the phone from the cafe rang and I quickly answered. 

“Thank you for calling Fika. This is Astrid.” 

“Astrid!” The cheery and younger voice ran in my ear. “It’s Laura. I’m bringing in my study group, we’re a party of seven so I wanted to give you a heads up in case you didn't have the space.” 

Glancing up to the farthest corner of the cafe, secluded away from the rest, the two long sage-green couches were currently empty. 

“The loft is already booked for a private event for tonight but your usual spot is open. I’ll reserve it for you guys. Thanks for the heads up, Laura! I appreciate it.” 

“Oh please, Astrid. You’ve done so much fueling our late-night college study sessions. We’ll see you in a bit!” 

Hanging up the phone, I placed it on the counter while grabbing the tea mug in one hand and the two cannolis and slice of lemon in the other. As I passed by the tall mystery man, I gave him my best smile. 

“I’m sorry for the wait.”

He peered up from his phone. “No need to apologize. I’m very patient.” 

Ignoring the way my skin pricked and burned at the accent in his voice, I gently set down Phillip’s order with shaky hands. 

“Oh, why so nervous, dear?” Phillip commented. 

I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “No reason. Enjoy.” 

Before I could leave, he gently grasped my elbow. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m sorry to hear about your father.” 

My body went rigid at the mention of my father. It was rare that a customer would bring him up because they were all new so there was no need to talk about my father which I’d been thankful for since it was still raw. The occasional regulars, like Phillip, were the ones that did. 

I swallowed thickly. “Uh, thank you. We knew for a while how sick he was but still, it was a shock.” 

“And you were the one that found him?” 

Out of the corner of my eye, the mystery man turned his head briefly my way but I kept my attention on Phillip doing my best not to let the tears win. 

“Enjoy your tea, Phillip. Let me know if you need anything else.” 

I tapped his shoulder while making my way over to the two couches in the far back of the cafe and flipped over the RESERVED sign then made my way back to the register. 

“Thanks for waiting,” I smiled up to the mystery man. “What can I get you?” 

“Black coffee with two scoops of sugar, please.” He smiled while handing me his black credit card. 

“Any sweets?” I teased, already knowing his order. 

According to Jessica and Tori, every time he came in he ordered the same thing. 

Black coffee with two scoops of sugar. 

They tried to upsell him into something different or add a sweet for his side, but every time he politely declined. 

The man’s eyes sparked as he looked at me and just as I was about to prepare myself for giving him the total, he surprised me. 

He hummed low. “What do you recommend?” 

Tapping my fingers against the edge of the counter I peered at the display case of all the homemade desserts I baked this morning. 

“Depends. What do you like?” I asked, giving him a small smile. 

I didn’t miss the way his eyes ghosted over my entire form, lingering on my tattoos. First, flowers and a crescent moon chest piece that was visible thanks to my thin straps and the low cut of my jumpsuit. Then he looked at the tattoo on my left forearm. It was of four crows flying away with their feathers falling. Then to the sleeve on my right arm, I called my Witch arm; it had different witch theme designs. 

When I scratched my cheek, I noticed the way he tracked every movement of it, seeing the Medusa head I had tattooed on the back of my hand. I had more tattoos that were hidden underneath my clothes but the thought of him stripping me to trace over them with his tongue made my face burn and I shifted on my feet. 

Finally, he shrugged. “Surprise me.” 

Pursing my lips, I grabbed a plate and the tongs, deciding on two small pieces of my grandma’s famous Kanelbullar. She passed down the recipe to me in hopes I would continue to sell them at the cafe. 

“These are a huge hit with everyone. My grandma’s recipe,” I said while handing him the plate. 

“Oh?” The man raised a brow as he looked down at the plate on the counter. 

Suddenly my palms began to sweat as he assessed the dessert. “They’re called kanelbullar; a famous Swedish desert. Otherwise known as cinnamon buns. Some people are turned off by it at first because of how it looks but I promise, they’re delicious. I made them myself this morning. All of these desserts are made fresh every morning. ” 

Now the man was smirking. “Swedish, huh?” 

I nodded. “My grandparents were born in Sweden and moved here to start their dream of opening Fika. When they retired, they moved back.” 

“Are you Swedish?” 

I cringed. “Fifty percent but don’t ask me to speak it because I’ll butcher it.” 

“How much?” He asked with a laugh while pointing to the plate. 

I waved him off while ringing his total up on the credit card machine. “I’ll charge you just for the coffee, in case you don’t like the kanelbullar. But, it’s a one-time thing.” 

I playfully pointed a finger at him, one he chuckled at before taking his card back. 

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you,” he gave me a smile that made me weak in the knees. 

Clearing my throat, I brushed a strand of hair from my eyes and reached for a cardboard cup. “Can I have a name for the order?” 

“Joakim.” 

I paused mid-writing. “Uh, do you mind spelling it? I don’t want to be the kind of a barista that messes up people's names.” 

“You can call me Jolly,” he chuckled.

“See,” I pointed the marker at him. “That I can spell. Joakim is an interesting name though.” 

I began pouring the coffee into his cup but nearly spilled it when his next words shocked me. 

“It’s Swedish.” 

“Wait,” I set down the pot and cup before turning back to him. “Are you telling me you let me ramble on about a Swedish dessert when you fully knew what it was?” 

The man, Jolly, was full-on grinning now as he popped one of the kanelbullars in his mouth, licking off the sticky cinnamon syrup. I had to force myself to bite back a moan at the sight. 

“Du var söt så jag sa inget,” Jolly said, then took a drink of his coffee when I handed it to him. 

With my furrowed brows of confusion, he chuckled. “You have no idea what I’m saying do you?” 

“Not a fucking thing,” I giggled while scrunching my nose. “I was born here in California and my grandma only taught me the basics but those are long forgotten.”

“How long have you owned the place?” He wondered. 

I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “A few months now but I only recently reopened. When I took it over after my father, it needed a lot of upgrades and fixes. Which it still does. But I plan on selling it once it is ready.” 

Jolly raised a brow. “You’re going to sell?” 

“Uh, yeah,” I rubbed my elbow nervously. “Owning this place was never my endgame. It’s been in the family for years, yes, but the potential of the money if I sell would help out a lot.” 

Tears gathered in the corner of my hazel eyes when I knew deep down the real reason why I wanted to sell; it reminded me too much of my father. 

“You’ve created a nice place here,” he admitted while looking around at the place. “The plants add a nice touch.” 

I had a variety of different plants littered all over the place as a way to bring life and color into the dull lighting.  

I hummed. “Here I thought it was the coffee that brought you in every day.” 

“Oh, it is, however, I’m more into the barista who made it today,” Jolly winked. 

My cheeks burned all the way to the tops of my ears. “Oh, well. That’s very sweet of you.” 

With the cup in one hand and plate in the other, Jolly winked. “Thank you, Astrid. I’ll be coming back for a refill.” 

“I’ll be here to help with that,” I rushed out a bit fast and mentally cursed myself for sounding desperate. 

But then I realized he said my name and the way it sounded on his lips made my core itch with desire. 

“You know my name?” I asked while twirling my fingers. 

“I’ve heard it quite a lot the last week from your employees needing something,” he joked. 

I playfully rolled my eyes while making a new batch of black coffee so he could have the fresh stuff when he needed it. “I love them. It’s not their fault this place is old and falling apart.

Jolly sat in his typical booth that was near the ride side of the counter, in front of the window. “Do you know the meaning behind your name?” 

“I know it’s Swedish,” I answered with a shrug.

He nodded. “It means divinely beautiful.” 

Now my entire body was inflamed with how Jolly was staring at me, his dark eyes devouring me, but before I could respond, Sean and Tori emerged from the back. 

“Alright, boss. Where do you want us?” Tori clapped her hands. 

Her break was over and Sean must have finished his training video. 

“Tori, you’re working the private party. They should be here by 3 so can you make sure everything in the loft is set up?” I asked. 

She nodded with a wide smile. “Of course. Who’s it this time?” 

When I took over Fika, I noticed there was this huge, unused space upstairs that I could use for either extra seating if we got too busy or for private events. Tonight, there was a local book club that rented out the space. 

“LA’s Book Ladies.” 

“Again? Weren’t they here last week?” Sean asked. 

Nodding, I handed Tori the box of supplies she would need to set up the loft before ushering her away. “They're interested in renting out the space every Thursday for their book club.” 

The bell above the door indicated a new group of customers; Laura’s study group. 

I motioned Sean over to them. “Jessica will be here in five minutes. She can help you prepare their order once you take it.” 

Once Sean scurried over towards the group, I darted my gaze over to where Jolly was sitting, noticing that he had headphones on as he worked on his laptop, the plate empty. 

Before I could bring him another round of coffee and kanelbullars, my phone rang and I immediately recognized the number. 

“Hi, mormor,” I smiled into the phone. 

“Min älskling,” my grandmother’s old, frail voice made me smile even wider. “How are things?” 

With the sudden commotion from the study group settling in, I decided to take the rest of my phone call in my office.

JOLLY

“Son of a fucking bitch!” 

Snapping my eyes up from my phone, I watched Astrid with a small smile as she stepped onto the small ladder to hang up a guitar, only to be a few inches short. She’d been working on hanging up guitars on the black wall for the last ten minutes, something I watched with intent and curious eyes. 

It had been a few days since our first conversation and since then, we shared stolen glances anytime I was here and she was working up front. We talked when she wasn’t busy but it always pertained to the same topic. 

“How's your coffee?” 

“Would you like a refill?”

Astrid did try to deter me from my usual order but I always stayed the same. 

Black coffee with two scoops of sugar. I did, however, let her decide on my sweets. Today it was something simple; baklava. 

Another thing she baked herself. 

When Astrid slid over the coffee to me this morning, I curled a brow at the mug she had given me. She merely shrugged with a coy smile before busying herself with going about and watering all the plants in the cafe. 

I snicked while grabbing the white mug that had ‘Jolly’ written across it and sat in my usual booth in front of the large window. The green velvet of the bench seat and the oak wood of the table I sat at became a sense of familiarity. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I marveled at how her ice-white hair was pulled back into a tight bun, showcasing her defined cheekbones and bright hazel eyes. Astrid’s leg was exposed due to the long slit in her long black skirt and I caught a glimpse of the tattoo on her shin; a moth, a rose, and a half-crescent moon. She was covered in tattoos and I couldn’t ignore the voice in my head that begged me to find out if she had any other ones hidden. 

When I was walking downtown a few weeks ago and saw the opening soon sign on the battered door of Fika, I was curious about who was taking over. I used to stop in every once in a while when Astrid’s father ran the place but ever since my life and work schedule with Bad Omens took off, I came in less and less. 

But that day when I saw Astrid’s faint figure covered in a type of green paint as she painted the walls, I was transfixed. The vision of her took my breath away and I stopped to watch her for a few seconds. The few times I stopped in when her father owned the cafe, I never noticed her. So when I heard that she was the one taking over, I decided to make more of an effort to stop in when I could, however, I never expected I’d be here every other day. 

Noah called me out last week about how often I came here and told me not to “fall in love”. I had no intention to, not wanting to get into a relationship with how often I was gone on the road, but the second my eyes met with hers, I knew Astrid would consume every part of me. 

“I chose the wrong day to wear my fucking vans.” 

Shaking from my thoughts, I peered over to Astrid as she now stood on the tips of her toes to try and hang up a guitar on one of the highest hooks. 

“Need some help?” I asked while rising to my feet. 

She was only a few feet away from where I’d been sitting. 

“Oh, no, Jolly. I don’t want to bother you,” Astrid said, waving me off. 

I shrugged while brushing the hair away from my face; opting to leave it down today. 

“I mean this is the nicest way possible Astrid, but you’re shorter than me. I could reach that hook with ease,” I informed. 

She playfully gawked with a hand over her heart, the other clutching the guitar. “My, I thought you were one of the sweeter ones.” 

I chuckled and motioned her to step off the ladder. “Get off of there before you hurt yourself.” 

“I’ll have you know,” she came down the three-rung ladder, “I did every single update in this place. Without hurting myself.” 

I took the guitar from her with a raised brow. “Are you sure about that?” 

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe I tripped over a bucket of paint and cut my finger while setting up the new coffee machine but that’s it.” 

“For now,” I joked while taking a tentative step toward her. 

“Oh, someone thinks they’re funny today,” she crossed her arms but the smile on her blood-red lips told me she was loving our banter. 

With mere inches between us, Astrid peered up at me through her long lashes and swallowed thickly. 

“Well, I must say. You are taller than me,” her voice was quiet but yet loud enough just for me to hear. 

My fingers itched with the want to brush away the loose strand of hair that hung in her eyes. When her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip, I internally groaned at how seductive that simple action was and I almost had to force myself to take a step away from her. One of my hands was still holding onto the guitar, and the other was hanging to my side, so close to Astrid’s that I could feel the heat radiating off of her. Our eyes were locked with each other, my dark ones paled in comparison to her bright hazel ones. They burned deep into my soul, in the best way, and I found myself swimming in their depths. I was hypnotized by her gaze that I didn’t realize our fingers brushed against one another, sparks shooting through my entire essence with the simple touch of her skin on mine. 

“How many do you have left to hang up?” I cleared my throat, breaking the sudden sexual tension, and held up the guitar. 

“Uh,” Astrid blinked. “Just two more. I have to run to the back to grab the last one.” 

With a nod, I let her run off to grab the last guitar as I took the two steps up the step ladder, hanging up the guitar I had on its designated hook. Once back on my feet, I took a few steps back to admire how the guitar wall looked. The bright red, neon FIKA sign was in the middle with one unused hook underneath it. 

“Here we go!” Astrid smiled as she came back to the front of the cafe. “Please be careful with this one. It’s an old one and means a lot.” 

For once, she didn’t have my full attention. It was on the guitar in her hand. 

A blue Teisco Del Rey ET-312. Otherwise known as a sharkfin guitar. Something I made known. 

“You know guitars, huh?” she asked as I gently took it from her. 

“Yeah, I know a thing or two,” I kept my answer simple, not wanting to give too much about me away. It was clear she had no idea who I was outside of the cafe and I wanted to keep it like that for a little while longer. 

As I gazed down at it, Astrid told me the story behind it. 

“It was my grandfather's. He absolutely loved playing it when he wasn’t spending all of his time here. I remember he let me play it one Christmas when I was 7. I was terrible and my parents vowed to never put me into any lessons to save their ears,” she ended her story with a light chuckle. 

“He didn’t take it back with him when they moved back to Sweden?” I asked, remembering she told me her grandparents moved back a few years ago. 

“Nope. He gave it to me. I’m not sure why, though. I never learned to play. Hopefully, he won’t be so mad that I decided to hang it up.” 

Ever so carefully, I went back up the step ladder and placed it on its hook. It wasn’t until I was standing next to Astrid again that I gave her a wicked smile. 

“This looks pretty badass, Astrid. I love how it turned out,” I admired. 

She smiled, eyes sparkling as she looked at it. “Me too. Thank you for your help, Jolly.” 

Astrid bumped her shoulders with mine and not only did the sparks return but so did the fluttering in my stomach. 

The bell above the door jingled, making her jump slightly before turning around, her voice raising an octave to greet the customer. 

“Hi, welcome to Fika!” 

I didn’t miss the ‘woah’ under her breath and with furrowed brows, I turned on my heels but rolled my eyes at who walked in the door. 

Noah took one look between Astrid and me, how close we were standing next to each other, and the corner of his lips curled up. 

“Hi,” he smiled. 

“What can I get you?” Astrid asked as she walked over to the register behind the counter. 

“Oh, I’m fine. Thank you, though,” Noah declined politely while holding a hand over his chest. 

“You sure you don’t want some mochis? I hear they’re pretty special,” I teased. 

Noah shot me a glare, one I ignored by packing up my things. He must have finished his therapy session early and we're going to head to rehearsals for the next two days to prepare for the upcoming week-long festivals Bad Omens were set to headline. 

“You two know each other?” Astrid pointed between us. 

“He’s my roommate,” I answered before Noah could. 

He picked up on how rushed my answer was but knew with my pleading eyes not to say anything else about how we know each other. 

“I’m Noah,” he extended his hand towards her. 

She smiled while shaking it. “Astrid. Owner of Fika.” 

“I’ve heard great things about you. And this place. It’s one of Jolly’s favorites,” Noah said. 

Astrid’s eyes glinted as we looked at each other and I swore all of the oxygen left my lungs with how intense her gaze was. 

She hummed low. “I’m starting to realize that.” 

Hiding my burning cheeks beneath the length of my hair, I cleared my throat and patted Noah on the back.

“We should go.” 

He nodded at me before turning back to Astrid. “It was nice meeting you. Maybe next time, I’ll join Jolly.” 

“Sure,” she nodded, still wearing that beautiful smile. “Oh, here. At least take some coconut water for the road!” 

Astrid bent down to reach into the fridge and I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on her. Noah snickered next to me which in turn, made me smack his chest. 

“Fuck, man,” he grunted while rubbing it. 

“Here you guys go!” She handed us the two bottles of coconut water and my fingers grazed hers yet again when I grabbed mine. 

This time it was Astrid who seemed affected by it with the way her breath hitched and quickly stuffed her hands in the pockets of her long skirt. 

“What do I owe you?” Noah asked while reaching for his wallet. 

“On the house,” she said.

“Now I can see why Jolly likes you,” Noah ran a hand through his hair. 

The new shorter length was something not only he but I was getting used to. As long as I’d known him, Noah had some sort of long hair. 

Before I could retort, one of her employees came rushing up behind Astrid, needing her attention for something. 

“Sean, they’re just raccoons. As long as you leave them alone, they won’t bother you,” she laughed. 

The noise made my heart ache in my chest, wanting to be the only one to be the reason why she laughed like that. 

“I’m telling you, Astrid. There are at least six of them now. How am I supposed to throw away the trash if they’re living in the dumpster?”

With a deep sigh, she excused herself from us with a small wave and that was my cue to pull Noah along as we stepped out into the late Los Angeles afternoon air. 

He took a long drink of his coconut water as we walked towards his car which was parked down the block. 

“So that’s Astrid,” he noted with a hum. 

“Don’t start,” I grumbled while putting on my sunglasses. 

Noah held up his hands. “She’s cute, Jolly. I can see why you spend a lot of time here. Though it doesn’t seem like she knows who either of us is.”

I shook my head with a thankful breath. “No, she doesn’t. Although you seemed to take her breath away when she saw you.”

He snorted. “You don’t have to worry. I only have eyes for-.” 

“I know, I know,” I waved him off before he finished his sentence. 

It was clear who Noah only had eyes for. It took a long time for him to finally realize that.

We reached Noah’s car and as he stood in front of the driver's door and me on the passenger side, we both rested our arms on the hood of the car. Noah’s almond eyes were hidden behind his black sunglasses but I knew they were assessing my face. 

“Do you plan on telling her who you are and what you do?” He wondered. 

“If I’m being honest, it’s been nice not having her know or treating me differently.” 

Noah nodded. “I understand that. But take it from me, not communicating the truth can delay things. And it’s not healthy.” 

Understatement of the year.

“I’ll tell her; soon,” I said. 

“What is she going to think when you’re gone for 9 days and don’t show up for your daily coffee?” 

“We should go, you know how Matt gets when we’re late,” I said, changing the subject, and opened the door to slide into the passenger seat. 

Noah tapped the roof of his car before he followed my actions. 

ASTRID

“I don’t know what to do, mormor. One guy put in an offer, it wasn’t great but enough to keep me afloat for a while if I do decide to sell,” I spoke into my phone as it was perched between my shoulder and ear, hands busy stocking the cafe. 

“Astrid, I sense there’s something else stopping you,” my grandmother observed. 

I shrugged with my free shoulder. “If I’m being honest, I like running Fika. It keeps me motivated to get out of bed every morning. My employees are great, same with the customers. I have a lot of regulars that tell me I should keep the place; keep it in the family name.” 

One especially lingered on my mind always. His long brown hair, ever darker brown eyes, and that nose ring that seemed to accentuate his face perfectly. 

“Min älskling, it’s whatever you decide. We left Fika to your father who in turn left it to you because we trust you. Don’t feel as if you need to keep it for us. We don’t want to see you do something with regret.” 

I finished stocking the straws and went to work stocking the sugar packets. “I know. I do wish you and farfar could come visit and see what I’ve done with it.” 

My heart sank when I thought of my grandfather and knowing the real reason why they couldn’t leave Sweden right now. My grandmother was still young and healthy enough to travel but she couldn’t leave my grandfather in case something happened to him. 

Alzheimer's had slowly been deteriorating his brain, making life difficult for both of them. It was the same disease that took my father months ago. 

My grandmother sighed. “Someday I’ll come visit. But your farfar-.” 

“I know,” I said suddenly. “It’s alright.” 

We talked for a few more minutes before I said goodbye and pocketed my phone into my jeans. Rolling up the sleeves of my orange cardigan I busied myself with more work. It was Saturday afternoon and Fika was busier than normal; the sunshine and cool LA weather brought everyone out. 

Well, not everyone. 

For the last week, anytime the bell above the door jingled, my head would snap up expecting to see Jolly, but every time my heart would drop when it wasn’t him. I had become so accustomed to seeing him almost every day that when he stopped coming in, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was something I had done. 

Maybe he finally grew sick of your coffee. And you.

Shaking the thought from my mind, I went about mingling with some of my regulars. The cool air slipped inside as someone walked in through the door, tickling the exposed skin of my stomach because of the black lace bralette I wore. 

Deciding to head to my office, I was in my head thinking about what I possibly could have done to make Jolly leave for a week, that I didn’t see the body I collided with until it was too late. 

Strong arms wrapped around me from behind, large hands gripping the small of my back, as my hands sprawled out on the thick chest. Peering up through my lashes, I drank in the sight of those dark eyes. 

“H-hi,” I stuttered while swallowing thickly. 

“Hello,” Jolly smiled as his hands absentmindedly rubbed at my back. 

The feeling sent a shockwave through my veins and I reveled in his touch, desperately needing it all over me. 

His hair was hidden beneath the hat he wore, the hood of his black sweater pulled over that. There was a new look of exhaustion in his eyes, something I hadn’t seen before. It was as if the usual light behind them had dulled since our last encounter. 

However the longer we stared at each other, I could see the light returning. I so badly wanted to ask him where he’d gone the last nine days but didn’t want to make it seem like I noticed. Even though I did. 

I also found myself missing his presence after the third day he didn’t show up. 

“The usual?” I asked after a beat of silence. 

Jolly gave me a warm smile, hands still wrapped around me. “Have I worked myself up to a usual kind of guy?”

I playfully patted his chest. “It's easy when I can make your drink in my sleep.” 

“I like what I like,” he said, keeping his eyes on mine as he did. 

Silence fell between us as we continued to stay in each other's embrace, neither of us ready to break apart. Until Tori’s voice broke through the small bubble Jolly and I created. 

“Astrid, there’s a Jackson on the phone for you.” 

Shit. 

Slowly removing myself from Jolly, I cleared my throat. “I have to take that, but give me a few minutes and I’ll bring you your coffee.” 

“Of course,” he nodded. 

Turning my back to him, I took the cafe phone from Astrid while ignoring her smug smirk as she watched Jolly walk to his table.

“This is Astrid,” I answered the call. 

“Astrid, this is Jackson Hewitt, I’m calling about that little coffee shop you own on the corner of W. 9th Street. Freka.” 

“Fika,” I corrected with a stern voice. 

This was our third conversation and he still couldn't pronounce the name correctly; either he couldn’t or didn’t bother enough to care. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m calling to check in to see if you’ve thought about my offer.” 

Staying on the phone with him, I poured the black coffee with two scoops of sugar into the white Jolly cup and plated two chocolate chip cookies. 

“You only sent the offer the other day, Jackson. I need longer than that to think if I accept or not,” I said as I made my way over towards where Jolly sat. 

His usual booth in the corner by the large window.  

“Or not?” Jackson repeated my words. “Come on, Astrid. This is probably the best deal you will get for that place. It’s better if you take it now because I can’t promise it will be the same amount next time I make it.” 

I set the plate and coffee down on the table in front of Jolly with a bit of force, not meaning to, so he glanced up at me. 

“Listen, Jackson. With absolutely no respect, I’m not interested in selling my place to someone who’s going to turn it into a chain restaurant. If I lose money, so what? At least I kept my dignity and didn’t sell out.” 

I placed my hand on my hip, still standing in front of Jolly who watched me with a slight smirk. 

“Woah, Astrid. In no way are you selling out. I just have great plans for that space. I know how hard it has been keeping it afloat after your father died.” 

My body went rigid as a low scowl pulled on my lips. This asshole knew absolutely nothing about my father or how well Fika had been doing. The first few weeks were rough but I found a good rhythm and soon, we began to flourish. The income had been steady for everything and everyone involved. 

Plus, I hadn’t smiled or felt this good about my future in a long time. 

“My father and his passing have nothing to do with my decision. You’ve never stepped foot inside of Fika, so don’t pretend you know how my business is doing,” I did my best to keep myself composed in front of the customers, especially Jolly. 

“You know what, I’ll give you another day to think-.” 

“No, I’ve made my decision. Fika is no longer for sale, thanks for your interest but please do not contact me again.” 

Before Jackson could respond, I hung up the phone and pinched my eyes shut; the ongoing onslaught of a migraine creeping its way into my head. 

“You’ve decided not to sell?” 

Jolly’s soft voice made me jump slightly and when our gazes met, it pulled me in to sit across from him.

“Yeah,” I nodded while tapping my fingers against the table. “I’ve talked with my grandma a little bit about it. She supports me no matter what I decide but I couldn’t imagine letting this place go. It has too many memories behind it.”

“It’s a great place, Astrid. You should be proud of what you’ve done here,” he said. 

I smiled. “I am. I’ve slowly put myself into this place so I can’t let it go.” 

“Well,” Jolly took a small sip of his coffee. “I’m glad you’ve decided to keep it.” 

I rested my chin on my palm. “Me too. It helps that the clientele have been so wonderful.” 

A low rumble emanated from his chest as he pointed to his coffee. “Does anyone else get a special cup with their name on it?” 

“No, those are saved for the real special ones,” I winked. 

Something dark flashed in Jolly’s eyes as he leaned farther back into his chair, extending his long legs on the right side of me, locking them at his ankles. My eyes dragged up the length of them until my gaze landed on his eyes, a playful gleam behind them as he caught me staring at him. 

My cheeks burned as I shifted in my seat. 

“Nervous?” Jolly questioned with a sudden darkness in his voice as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. 

We were so close now, that I could feel his warm breath across my face. 

“N-nope.” I did my best to remain calm and poised but was failing. Something he immediately picked up on. 

“Are you sure about that?”

Licking my lips, I parted them to speak, something Jolly tracked with intense eyes. My pussy was aching with such a force of desire I was afraid he would be able to smell my desire with how close he was to me. There was this sudden pull between us that made me lean up towards him, Jolly’s lips meters from mine. I almost missed the intake of his breath, the sound muted with the hustle and bustle of the cafe.

“Astrid, the delivery truck is outside!” 

Jumping away slightly from Jolly, I cleared my throat while looking towards the counter, Sean waving me over. 

“I should-.” I threw a thumb over my shoulder when I looked back at Jolly. 

He nodded, adjusting the hat on his head. “Of course.” 

With one final glance, I stepped out of the booth and spent the next long while putting away the respective boxes from our weekly delivery. It was a bit larger than normal so by the time I finished, it was nearing 4 in the evening and when I emerged up the front of the cafe, the large groups that were there earlier dwindled to only a few. 

“How have things been?” I asked Jessica. 

She was wiping down the front counter and shrugged. “Not too bad. A steady influx of customers. But one managed to stay the entire time you were busy.” 

“Almost as if he was waiting for you,” Tori popped up from in front of the counter as she was cleaning the glass of the dessert display case. 

I crossed my arms. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Sean snorted from his spot in the little kitchen to my left. “Astrid, this guy has been in here almost every single day and stays for a few hours all while looking at you. Take it from me, this guy is interested.” 

While they were a few years younger than me, I didn’t brush off their observations yet. 

“Jolly is a regular,” I started to defend. 

Tori’s eyes widened. “That’s why you’ve been giving him his coffee in that cup!” 

I hushed her with a wave of a hand when other customers peered over at us. Thankfully, it seemed as if Jolly had his headphones in as he clicked away at his laptop. 

“You should give him your number,” Jessica suggested. 

“No,” I shot down with a shake of my head. 

Although the prospect of giving Jolly my number did make my heart flutter. 

“Oh come on, what's the worst that can happen? He ignores you?” Tori wondered. 

I placed my hands on my hips. “Don’t you guys have better things to do than worry about my dating life?” 

“He’s here almost every day and I hate to break it to you, but it’s not because of the coffee. He can have simple black coffee at home but he chooses to come here,” Sean said once he finished cleaning one of the ovens. 

“I’m going to see if he needs anything else,” Jessia piped up, quickly scurrying around the counter. 

Her name fell in a hushed tone as I watched her walk over to where Jolly sat. Their conversation couldn’t be heard from my spot in the cafe but when he smiled politely at her with a nod, my stomach fluttered with those damn butterflies. Every part about Jolly made my skin buzz with electricity and heat. Jessica returned to the front counter with a sly smirk. 

“Jolly said he will take a coffee for the road and a dozen of you famous Kanelbullar’s. Oh, and a pack of those chocolate mochis. Something about a friend of his loving those. But Tori and I can’t make his order because we have to clean the loft.” 

“We do?” Tori asked with confusion which made Jessica smack her arm. “Oh, yes! Right. We do. Sean, can you take care of Jolly’s order?” 

“No can do. It’s time for my break,” Sean said as he walked into the back.

I playfully narrowed my eyes at all three of them. “You guys think you’re so slick but I know what you’re doing.” 

As the three of them dispersed, I went to work on getting Jolly’s to go order together. With my fingers wrapped around the togo cup, I mewled at my decision for a long moment before internally saying fuck it. The worst that can happen is that he ignores my texts. 

And break your heart in the process. 

Choosing to ignore that thought, I scribbled down my number with the letter A on the cup, then filled it with black coffee and two scoops of sugar. As I was bagging his desserts, Jolly came up to the counter with his card in hand. 

“Tell your friend these mochis are a favorite here,” I smiled. 

“I’ll make sure to let him know. He kind of has a weird obsession with them,” he chuckled. 

Ringing him up for everything, I handed back his card then hesitantly his cup and bag of goodies. Jolly gave nothing away that he saw my number written in black ink on his cup. 

“So, see you tomorrow?” I asked, not being able to hide the hope in my voice. 

He ran a hand over his jaw. “I actually have this party that will have my attention all day. But I’ll be back on Sunday. Can't go too long without these Kanelbullars.” 

The front counter stood between us and with the way he smiled, I wanted to jump across it into his arms. 

Instead, I decided to remain professional and nodded. “Well, I’ll make sure to have a fresh batch for you on Sunday.” 

With a wink, Jolly raised the cup to his lips to take a small sip of his coffee. “I can’t wait, Astird.” 

The way my name fell from his lips nearly made me moan in pleasure and I wanted to hear him say it again; the accent doing wonders for it. 

With a gentle wave, I watched him walk out of the cafe before busing myself to help close up the cafe. Every so often I would peek at my phone to see if there was a new message from an unknown number and every time, my heart would sink when I realized there wasn’t. 

Just as I was about to give up hope, my phone buzzed when I was locking up the front door and walking to my car parked across the street. 

Unknown: Hi, it’s Jolly. Apologies it took me a while to text you. I noticed your number on the cup the second you handed it to me. But with work, it pulled me away from my phone. So now that I have a minute, hi.

I grinned as I read the message over a few more times before plopping into the driver's seat of my car. I debated on how to respond for a few minutes. 

Me: Hi :) how did your friend like the mochis?

As I finished saving his contact, Jolly responded. 

Joakim: Loved them. Ate half of the Kanelbullar as well. 

I giggled at the next message that came in; a simple frown emoji. 

Me: Well, I’ll make sure to throw in a few extra just for you next time.

Joakim: I’m looking forward to it. 

With the smile still plastered to my face, I plugged in my phone to my car and for the first time in a long while, enjoyed the drive home after a long day's work. 

ASTRID

I opened Fika about two hours ago, a slow steady stream of customers coming in as soon as the door opened, and I’d been carefully watching to see if Jolly would show up. We texted for a little while yesterday since I was home sick in bed and when he sent me a picture of the outfit he wore to his party, I had to pause my movie to stare at it. Black jeans, black long sleeves, and a black jacket on top. 

With the large mirror I had leaning against one of the cafe walls, something I set up for people to take selfies in front of with their coffees, I brushed away any lint on my black sweater dress and adjusted my tights. I made sure not a strand of hair fell out of my French braid and smiled to myself. 

“You know what they said about Narcissus,” Sean chuckled as he caught me giving myself another once over. 

“Ha, ha,” I narrowed my eyes while resting my hands on my hips. “Shouldn’t you be bussing tables?” 

“Waiting for a certain someone?” He teased with a raised brow before he went to work cleaning up the tables. 

Before I could retort, the bell above the door rang which made me turn swiftly on my feet. My heart rate picked up at the sight of Jolly as he walked in with two other guys on each side of him. His hair was falling to his shoulders in chocolate waves and when he took off his sunglasses, his dark amber eyes immediately found me to scan every inch of me. I felt frozen but hot under his gaze and pulled at the ends of my sweater dress, suddenly feeling as if it wasn’t perfect enough for him. 

“Hi,” Jolly smiled. 

The two men he came in with watched us with curious smiles, the one of Jolly’s left I recognized as his roommate that came in here a few weeks ago. 

"Hey you, the usual?" I asked. 

He smiled with a slight nod. "You know me so well."

I peered over to the two others, pointing to the one I recognized. “Noah, right?” 

The heavily tattooed man nodded while adjusting the hood of his sweater and that's when I noticed the writing along the front of it. 

“Oh, shit. Hereditary! I love that movie,” I exclaimed. 

Noah's eyes brightened. “Yeah?” 

“A24 has made some phenomenal films. Although, the ending kind of fucked me up,” I admitted with a laugh.

As I looked over to the other man who wore glasses, I missed the look that Jolly and Noah shared. 

“Hi, I’m Astrid.” 

“Jesse,” he held a hand against his chest. “Jolly’s other roommate. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about this place.” 

“Oh,” I gazed back over to Jolly, never taking my eyes off of him. “All good things, I hope?” 

Jolly licked his lips. “Definitely.” 

It seemed as if time slowed to almost a stop as we stared at each other and there was a pull deep within my soul that made me want to step into his embrace, letting him wrap those arms around me. 

Clearing my throat finally, I motioned to the coffee machines. “What can I get you guys?” 

Already knowing Jolly’s order, Noah and Jesse gave me theirs and I went to work getting it ready while they sat in Jolly’s regular booth. When Tori came in for her shift, I asked if she could carry Noah’s and Jesse’s drinks while I carried Jolly’s and the large plate of a variety of sweets for them. 

“The one in the black hoodie is cute,” Tori nodded towards Noah. 

I tilted my head towards her. “Oh, what happened to Tyler?

“Ugh, don’t say his name. I want to forget the last two weeks of my life with that man,” Tori stated. 

“Fair enough,” I nodded firmly and chuckled. 

“Besides,” she shook out her long red locks, “I seemed to have found someone else to occupy my mind with.” 

“Tori,” I warned as we walked over to the guys’ table. 

“Here you guys go,” she all but ignored Jesse while smiling down at Noah as she gave him his drink. 

Noah kept his attention on his phone, only briefly giving Tori a smile of thanks before he went back to typing away on his phone. Her confidence deflated but she still kept that brightening smile on her face. 

As I set down Jolly’s cup and plate of fresh kanelbullar as promised, he gazed up at me with a smile. 

“Thank you, Astrid.” 

I shivered at the way he said my name. 

“Of course. Do you guys need anything else?” I asked all three of them. 

“Actually,” Noah spoke up while giving me his full attention. “My girlfriend is meeting us here and asked if I can put her coffee order in.” 

Tori faux sighed before retreating to behind the coffee counter. Jesse watched her with raised brows. 

“Tori will be fine,” I chuckled. “What does your girlfriend want to drink?” 

“Medium chai tea iced with oat milk, please,” Noah smiled warmly as he rattled off the drink; almost as if he was remembering a memory. 

“Oh, a girl after my own heart,” I joked. “What’s her name?” 

After Noah told me her name, I tapped the table twice before stalking back to the coffee bar, feeling a set of hot eyes on my back the entire time. I was quick to make the drink, all while humming a soft tune to myself, and as I turned back to bring the drink to Noah, the bell above the door rang. I watched as a brunette walked in, eyes gazing almost over every inch of my space with a faint smile before she noticed the guys. Quietly, she tiptoed over to Noah and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, leaving a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

Just watching how the two of them interacted and all the love in their eyes, as they stared at each other before Noah cupped her cheek to lay a kiss on her lips, made my heart yearn for love like that. 

"Sorry I'm late,” the brunette apologized as Noah pulled out the seat next to him. “Chase and Malcolm wanted to catch up after the album release party.” 

"Order for Y/N!" I called out with a smile.

The brunette, Y/N, went to stand, but Noah was quick to force her gently back into her seat. “No, angel. Let me get it.” 

My eyes locked with Jolly’s and he quickly waved off his friends. “I can do it. Sit.”

While he walked towards the counter, I noticed Noah mutter something in Y/N’s ear, her giggling widely. 

“Could I also get a few mochis?” Jolly asked as he reached me. 

I nodded. “Of course. Any specific flavor?” 

“Whichever is fine. Y/N and Noah have a weird connection with them.”  

My brows furrowed as I went about to plate a few of them. “Really?” 

“That’s his nickname,” Jolly smiled as I handed him the plate of mochis and Y/N’s coffee. 

“A nickname, huh?” I wiped my hands on the sides of my dress before leaning my elbows on the counter to rest my chin in my palm.  

“Don’t tell him I told you, he gets uptight.” He chuckled while leaning down towards me. 

I peered up at him while fake-locking my lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Have you,” Jolly’s fingers grazed over one of the tattoos on my arm and I shivered under his touch. “Have you ever had a nickname?”

His tattooed fingers brushed back the long strands of hair as I gazed upon the sharp features of his face, the defined cheekbones, and the facial hair that surrounded his perfect, plump lips. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been given a nickname," I answered truthfully. 

“Oh well that’s just a shame,” Jolly shrugged. 

His confidence gave me some of my own and I gazed up at him through my lashes as he continued to stand on the other side of the counter. 

“It is," I tucked a strand of my white hair that somehow fell from my French braid behind my ears. "Any suggestions?”

“Käraste," Jolly said almost too quickly, as if he thought about this before. 

My cheeks burned as I locked eyes with him. Hearing the unknown word fall from his lips made my stomach flip and pussy clench. I squeezed my legs together to curb the itch. 

“What? Too much?” He asked, suddenly self-conscious. 

I quickly shook my head to reassure him while standing straight up on my feet. “No. No, I- I like it. What does it mean?”

With a smirk, Jolly tapped the counter before grabbing the cup and plate of mochis. "I think I'll keep that to myself." 

I chuckled while shaking my head and watched as he walked back over to the corner couch, where his friends waited for him.

For a while, I was busy running the front counter while Sean and Tori worked the kitchen area. There’d been a slow steady stream of customers that kept us all busy but I knew that at some point I needed to slip back into my office for management work. However, before I did that, I brought the pot of black coffee and a small jar of sugar over to Jolly to refill his cup and then set down the sugar. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N!” 

Giving her a bright smile, I shook her extended hand. “Hi, I’m Astrid.” 

Y/N motioned to Jolly. “I’m glad I listened to him about coming here. I’ve been wanting to for a while now, my therapist is right next door, and every time I walk past, the smell of the sweets gets me.” 

“Oh, Dr. Poulos! She comes in every day before her two p.m. appointment and gets a small cup of Greek coffee and baklava to go,” I informed. 

Noah spoke next. “You know, I noticed the to-go bag in her office one time but never put two and two together.” 

Y/N linked her fingers with his to rest them in her lap. “Well, it’s a lovely place you have here. The mochi are delicious.” 

“Thank you,” I smiled. “Well, I won’t bother you guys any longer. If you guys need anything else, let Tori or Sean know and they’d be happy to help you.” 

Before I could walk away, Jolly’s fingers grazed over mine and I peered down at him. 

“Thank you, käraste.”

My cheeks burned as I squeezed his hand and slipped away from them, into the confines of my office to enjoy the way the nickname set every fiber of my being ablaze. 

Since it was Sunday, I always closed Fika at 5 p.m. so I could enjoy the rest of my evening at home. So for the next few hours, I spent time in my office to finish my bookwork. By quarter to five, I dismissed Tori and Sean, sending them home, and walked up front to start closing up. Nearly tripping over my feet, I was shocked to see Jolly was still sitting in his booth. 

“You’re still here?” I asked, coming to a stop in front of his table. 

He shrugged while closing his laptop. “I know the shop is closing soon and wanted to make sure you’re fine closing up by yourself.” 

I quickly shook my head. “Oh, you don’t have to do that, Jolly. It’ll be a while before I’m ready to leave and I can’t ask you to stay around and wait for me,” 

“You didn’t ask. I offered,” he smiled while rising from the table, and going about to help me clean up. 

We worked in silence as I shut down the machines and when I was shutting off the lights, hiking my bag up on my shoulder, I let Jolly lead me out the front door so I could lock it, not before setting the alarm. 

“Can I walk you to your car?” Jolly asked. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” I bit my lip and nodded. 

The setting sun cast him in an orange hue, with pinks, and purples emanating from behind him and I sucked in a breath and how gorgeous he looked. We began walking step by step to the back alley where I parked my car, Jolly’s fingers grazing over mine and it was just enough contact to make my heart hammer loud and hard in my chest. 

“Your friends seem really nice,” I said, finally breaking the silence, as we came to a stop in front of my car. 

Jolly smiled. “They are. I love them, they’re my family.” 

My lips pulled in a tight line. “It must be a nice thing to have. I’m the only family I have here.”

He picked up on the way my voice faltered with my words but didn’t want to press the issue. Instead, he lifted a hand to brush away a strand of hair, tucking it behind my ear. His fingers were on the side of my neck and I let my eyes flutter shut at the feeling. 

“You’re welcome anytime with us, Astrid,” Jolly’s voice was hushed. 

Now his fingers were wrapped behind my neck to tilt my head up towards him. Opening my eyes, I sucked in a breath at how close his lips were to mine, his warm breath fanning over my bottom lip. 

“I’d like that,” I admitted with my bottom lip caught between my teeth. 

His eyes scanned my face. “We’re having a small party tomorrow night. A little housewarming thing. I’d love it if you’d come.” 

We were so close now, that I could almost taste his lips.

“You would?” I questioned. 

Jolly eyes told me his answer before his words did. “Definitely.” 

When I first opened Fika, I told myself not to fall into bed with the first handsome customer I met because it could spell disaster if things went sour. I needed to focus on my business, not let a pair of dark almond eyes distract me. And yet, here I was sinking further deeper into the abyss of those eyes. 

“Sure, I’ll be there,” I said while my hand gently played with the strings of his sweater. 

One of his hands was still grasped behind my neck while his other rested on my hip. “Käraste, kan jag kyssa dig?”

I blinked up at him, confusion etched on my features, and I shook my head in his grasp. “What did you say?” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Jolly’s voice dropped to a dangerously low level and it made my insides burn. My stomach flipped a few times over as he repeated the question in Sweden again and throwing out all the negative thoughts on how this could be a bad idea, I stood on the tips of my toes to close the small distance between us finally. 

His lips were warm with the bitterness of his coffee but the sweetness of the kanelbullars. At first, we stood frozen, unsure who would make the next move, but soon Jolly’s tongue brushed against my bottom lip in a way to ask permission; one I immediately granted. His tongue glided over mine and it swallowed my moans when Jolly walked me back against my car, locking me in place with his hips. 

What started as a slow, passionate kiss, suddenly became one with force. Teeth scraped against each other before biting into the flesh of lips, hands grasping at anything they could touch. Jolly's mouth never left mine as he focused solely on making every one of my senses ignite with a blaze that shot straight to my core. He held me in place with his large hands on my lower back while I ran my hands through the long strands of hair, reveling in the softness of them. 

His scent engulfed my senses, making me dizzy, and when I fell into him Jolly made sure to hold me tighter. I felt the hardness of his cock pressed against my clit and dropped my head back against the car to let out a moan, one he quickly hushed by finding my lips again; almost as if he didn't want to let them go. 

To let me go. 

“Astrid,” he muttered against them, pressing his hips into me once again. 

I was nearing release by his kiss and the gentle brush of his cock against me. My body was sensitive to his touch as rough fingers dragged down the sides of my face to pull me closer to him. Our tongues danced together in perfect harmony and I nipped then sucked on his bottom lip just before he pulled away, resting his forehead against mine. 

“Woah,” I whispered while bringing my fingers to my lips. 

Jolly brushed his mouth over them in a feathery peck. “If I’m being honest, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” 

I giggled while wrapping my arms around his back. “I’m glad we feel the same.” 

We began to lead towards each other for another kiss but were interrupted by my phone going off. Reluctantly, I pulled away from Jolly to grab my phone from my purse, only to stare down at it with puzzled eyes. 

“Everything alright?” Jolly asked while brushing a finger over my cheek. 

I smiled into his touch and nodded. “Yeah. It seems like the cafe’s alarm is going off.” 

With quick fingers, I disarmed the alarm from the app on my phone and then gazed up at him. His cheeks were flushed still from our kiss and his eyes were pure black now, pupils blown wide from his own desires. 

Fuck, I wanted nothing more than to jump into the backseat of my car with him. Ride out the now fading high against his thigh. 

Shaking my head at the thought, I motioned towards the cafe. “I should go check it out. Just in case.” 

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

I quickly shook my head. “No, it’s alright. I probably didn’t pull the door shut all the way so the sensor tripped. But I will see you tomorrow night?” 

Jolly’s eyes lit up. “Of course. I’ll be busy helping the guys set up for the party so I might not make it in for my coffee.” 

I made a show of rolling my eyes. “How will I ever survive without you?” 

The corner of his mouth lifted with a smirk. “I’ll send you the address. Can you let me know everything is fine with the alarm then once you're home?” 

My heart jumped into my throat at his request. “Of course. Do you need me to bring anything tomorrow?” 

Jolly brought my hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle. “Just you, käraste.”

CONTINUE TO PART TWO HERE

[moonmeg]

I have a headcannon which is that cat sometimes has nightmares where Philip catches Robyn and ends up doing the same thing to him that he did to Caleb 😭

A tug on his hair disrupted his peaceful sleep. The chirp of a cardinal getting ever more frequent and louder until Robyn couldn't ignore it anymore. He groaned, grimacing while turning the other way and gently swatting his palisman away but the white cardinal didn't surrender. She kept tugging on the loose strand of his brown hair desperately.

"Snowball, seriously, knock it off.", the boy groaned again. He opened his eyes a little and rose to sit when the bird still didn't stop trying to wake him.

"What is it?"

He rubbed his eyes while Snowball told him to listen closely. There's sounds coming from outside the room. They were dimmed but they were audible. He recognized it was his mother who was the source of those sounds.

"Ma?"

He froze for a second. It was crying he heard. Sobs in between exclamations to "Stop".

"Ma!"

Robyn leapt out of bed, tore the door open and made Snowball turn into her staff form. He was powerless on his own but through Snowball he was able to do minor spells still. It wasn't on par with his abilities before he lost his power but it was better than being empty handed.

He raced to his mother's room.

"Who's there?" he swung the door open, staff firmly in hand, ready to fight. Only there was no one in the room but his mother.

"Leave him alone! Don't hurt him!", Catherine yelled her head turning left and right on the pillow as if she was in pain. A nightmare, Robyn figured.

He let Snowball turn back to her normal form and ran to Catherine with a repeated "Mama" to wake her.

She was too deep in the nightmare however to take notice he was there. Instead her exclaims got louder and more desperate the more Robyn used "Mama". Genuinely scared and worried for her, he began shaking her.

"Mama!! Wake up! Ma-"

"NO!", she screamed and finally woke from the shock of the image her nightmare had given her.

Her scream frightened Robyn from its mere loudness and pain it carried. It was a cry of desperation more than a scream.

"Mama, shh! Shh, it's alright-"

"Caleb-"

"It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Deep breaths."

He ran his hands up and down her upper arm in attempt to comfort her. His expression softened into one of pity. She still dreamed of Caleb and his cruel fate. It never let her go and Robyn was well aware of that.

Catherine reached for her son and cupped his face in her palms, a sob escaping her chest.

"Robyn! Oh, my baby!"

"I'm here.", he confirmed. "Shhh. I'm here. I'm here. You only had a bad dream."

"He took you from me!", Catherine continued, checking every inch of her son's face with her palms. He was alright. No scars, no blood on the corners of his mouth, nothing indicating the reality of her gruesomely vivid dreams he was alright, "First Caleb and then you! I was too weak to save you- oh, Titan, forgive me! Forgive me, Robyn!"

She let out another sob as she buried her face in his shoulder. Her nails were digging into his arm, clinging to her baby. Gratitude wasn't fit enough of a word to describe what she felt as she realized it was only a nightmare and that her little sprout was right there. Alive. Breathing into her hair. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

Robyn slowly began to piece together what her nightmare tortured her with. She not only relived her husband's death but was forced to watch her son - her only son - meet the same or a similar fate.

"I have nothing to forgive you for. It's alright, Mama. I promise.", he said softly.

"I keep failing to protect you. I keep failing...", Catherine hicced.

Robyn held his breath for a second.

"This wasn't the first time you dreamed that?"

"No...", she took a heavy breath.

Her quiet sobs were the only sound in the room. Her forehead on his shoulder, she thought about whether or not to tell him more. She didn't want Robyn to see her like that or even less worry him. But he wasn't a little child anymore either and it would be a delusion to think he never noticed her heartache.

"I've been having this nightmare since you were an infant. Just shortly after your birth."

"Mama...", Robyn tightened his embrace as he whispered the words, "I'm so sorry."

None of them said anything more. None of them expected more to be said. They just sat there. Mother and son holding each other. One in relief, the other in comfort.

As for the moment the mutual embrace was enough.

And what else could they do but that?

[kingofpopmj]

hiii, can i request a story where y/n is Michael's babies nanny and she is in love with him but she thinks he is totally out of her league, a bit of angst & smut if its okay pls 💗

Y’all are so damn naughty. 🙈🙊 I support it! lol

Here you go hunni! I hope you enjoy!

I Really Want It, I Can't Deny

I stood off to the side watching over Michael’s photoshoot with his beautiful baby boy. He’s so happy to finally be a father. It’s truly a special sight. Michael’s wearing a white crystal covered blazer with pearl accents, black slacks and a black fedora. His hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, a few stray curls lying across his soft skin. He looked phenomenal— as always. His eyes sparkling more than ever before. And, his smile, when he smiles it feels like the entire world stops along with my heart. He’s everything I’ve ever imagined the perfect man to be, I never thought I’d find a man like that, I never thought they were real— until I met Michael. I didn’t realize how deep in my daydream I was until...

“Y/N!” Michael raised his voice, waving his hand in the air.

“Yes, Michael, what can I do for you?”

“Can you take the little one? I’m going to do a few solo shots.” I nodded, quickly making my way over to him and carefully lifting the baby from his arms.

“I’ll be in the nursery.” I stated, excusing myself quietly.

I gently rocked the baby, trying to get him to fall asleep, but he only stared back at me, making funny noises with his mouth. I decided to walk out to the backyard. He loved being outside. He would giggle uncontrollably at the sound of birds chirping. He enjoyed chasing butterflies and admiring all the flowers. The small water fountain was his favorite, it always put him right to sleep. It’s very calming on the ranch. I grew to fall in love with it myself— more so its owner.

Michael caught my attention immediately. It’s impossible not to fall in love with how kind, sweet, thoughtful, caring and handsome he is. I often found myself daydreaming as I roamed about his home. He’s my first thought when I wake up in the morning and the last when I fall asleep at night. He crossed my mind more than I care to admit— I couldn’t control how I felt. I was completely head over heels for him— and he had no idea. He didn’t see me, not the way I saw him. I wasn’t even on his radar and I couldn’t blame him. When I first started working for Michael, it was easy to lock away my feelings, but that all changed when he insisted I move in. It’s been about three months since Neverland became my home. It’s been a fairytale— for me at least. I spend everyday with Michael. It meant everything to me— yet so little to him I’m sure. I’m the nanny. I’m his employee. He’s my boss. There’s no changing that.

Once the baby had drifted off, I stayed outside, admiring the view. Everything is breathtaking here. The green grass, the clear blue sky, and butterflies constantly gracing the space. You can’t help but feel happy here. Neverland is unreal. It’s like a dream.

“There you are! I thought you ran off with my kid.” I turned around seeing Michael jogging towards us. My breath got caught in my throat when my eyes scanned his body, now he’s wearing a blue button down shirt. I admired how handsome he looked without even trying.

“I’m so sorry! I was trying to get him down for his nap. I got a bit distracted. It’s lovely here.”

“Relax. I’m joking.” He smiled taking a seat beside me. “I love it here too. I put thought into every little thing. I’m happy it all came together.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Mhm.. very beautiful.” I felt Michael’s eyes on me as I tried to focus on his baby boy.

“The carousel seems to be coming together.”

“Yes! It will be ready to go this weekend. Maybe you can be the first to ride it with me?” He smiled sweetly, I mentally kicked myself for thinking ‘yes, I’d love to ride you.’

“I’d be honored.”

“You’ve got beautiful eyes.” He pushed a strand of hair out of my face, his palm grazing my cheek, causing my face to heat up.

“Thank you. You’ve got lovely eyes as well.” I giggled softly, playing with the baby’s tiny hand.

“Has anyone ever told you how stunning you are?” My eyes shot up, falling on Michael with a longing expression on his face. “Your beauty alone can inspire someone to write songs— love songs.”

I could barely process what Michael was saying, responding to him proved to be a challenge, the beating of my heart clouding my thoughts. Michael stared at me with anticipation, leaning in, I could feel the warmth radiating off of him. He’s so close. The baby began to stir just as Michael was about to— well I’m not entirely sure what was about to happen. I guess I’ll never know.

“I should take him inside.” I said sadly, Michael quickly jumped up next to me.

“I’ll join you.”

We walked in a somewhat comfortable silence, our arms brushing against one another as we traveled through the halls of his home. Every few moments we looked at the other quickly sharing a kind smile. My mind was racing, trying to think of something to say, but I was at a loss.

“What are your plans for Thanksgiving?” Michael asked, breaking the silence. Bless this perfect man.

“I’m not sure yet. My family is out of state, I don’t want to travel back home this year. Besides, I’m the one that does all the cooking and baking. I think I deserve a break.” I laughed, Michael quickly joined in. Goodness, his smile could clear up a rainy day. His laugh is the reason rainbows exist, I’m sure of it.

Michael held the nursery door open for me, I walked in thanking him, standing in front of the crib. I gently laid the baby down careful not to wake him.

“You can spend it with me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Thanksgiving. You can spend it with me.” Michael coughed, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “With us. I meant spend it with us.”

“Oh, that’s sweet, but I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Y/N, you’re family. No intrusion I promise.”

“That’s sweet. I’d love to. Thank you.”

Walking out of the nursery and shutting the door behind us, there was a shift in his demeanor. He became more playful, if that was even possible. Michael winked, holding his arm out for me, I gladly linked arms with him, trying desperately to hide the effect his touch had on me. We began walking down the hallway with no destination in mind.

“You can teach me a few things. I’m not the best cook.”

“Ah-ha! Mr. Jackson, did you invite me to thanksgiving to do all the work?” I questioned, pretending to be offended.

“No, no, I like you. I’d like to have an excuse to spend more quality time with you.” He spoke quickly, shaking his head.

“I like you too.” I said with a smile, hoping that he couldn’t sense how nervous I was around him, or how honest those words felt coming out of my mouth. I meant those words with all my heart.

“Maybe, we can spend time together, alone, before Thanksgiving?” He asked hopefully, stopping in his tracks to face me.

“Is seeing me everyday not enough?” I teased.

“No. It’s not enough.” His tone was so serious it sent chills down my spine.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well..” He began, closing the distance between us, slowly gliding his long fingers down my arms. “I can take you out for dinner, just the two of us, then bring you back home.. for dessert.” his overly flirtatious tone, catching me off guard, I never thought I’d be on the receiving end of this side of Michael.

“That sounds—”

Michael cupped my face with urgency, shutting me up in the most tender way, but with just enough roughness to make a girl weak in the knees. His lips were like nothing I’d ever felt before, they were soft, but strong. This is really happening. Michael is kissing me, his breath tasted like mint and his hands had a firm grip on my backside.

“Michael!” I loudly whispered, breaking apart from his sweet lips, his lust filled eyes were focused on me. It felt incredible. He held onto me as if I’d run away from him if he let go.

“What is it baby?” Michael’s voice came out deep and seductive. I couldn’t control myself any longer, I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him into me. I’m not sure how we got to this point, but I certainly wasn’t going to waste it.

My back collided with the wall as Michael clutched my wrists, pinning them to the wall above my head. I’ve never felt this kind of passion, I never knew it existed, but now that I’ve tasted it, I’ll never be able to give it up.

We hungrily went after each other, bumping into a tall end table, knocking off everything on it, an expensive looking glass lamp shattered all over the floor. Michael laughed against my lips as he lifted me onto the table. Confidently, I held his hands in mine, placing his palms against my bare thighs, with my hands resting on top of his, I guided them toward me, pushing my skirt up painfully slow in the process. Michael groaned in my mouth, without skipping a beat he tore my panties off, shoving them in his pocket.

I unbuttoned his slacks, finding myself extremely needy, I was desperate to get rid of his clothing. I’ve never wanted something in my mouth more than in this moment. He was glorious.

“Can I? Is this okay?” Michael asked, against my neck, I nodded eagerly wanting him to continue. “Baby, I need words.”

“Yes, I want this.”

My words ignited something in him and it was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Michael didn’t waste any time pushing through my entrance, feeling every inch of him made my entire body tingle. He paused for a moment, looking into my eyes full of desire, he continued, overwhelming pleasure spreading throughout my body.

“I love the way you look at me.” He whispered into my ear, lifting up my leg, resting it on his shoulder, pushing into me deeper. “I’ve wanted to feel you around me for so long.”

“Oh my—”

“I’ve wanted you so bad.”

“Michael!” I whimpered as he kept his steady pace, my core aching more with each passing second.

“Oh, the things I’ve dreamt of doing to you.”

“I’m so close.” As the words fell from my lips, the ache in my core was replaced with a strong wave of pleasure.

“Baby, you’re perfect.”

“Oh, Michael.” My head fell back as I fought to catch my breath. Michael didn’t halt his movements, causing my high to drag on, making me whimper his name profusely.

“I want to taste every inch of your body.” Michael spoke against my breasts as he covered me with wet kisses, the pounding into my sweet spot being amplified by the table repeatedly crashing into the wall. The pounding was accompanied by the cracking noises of the table, breaking furniture has never been so satisfying. Suddenly, we heard a loud voice along with footsteps, the intoxicating feeling of ecstasy was nowhere near wearing off. We choose to ignore our surroundings. We choose to live in the moment.

“Michael! It’s me. Where are you?” A female voice carried through the halls. Michael stepped back, quickly pulling his pants up, dragging me into a nearby room and shutting the door softly. He was visibly panicked as he tried to make himself look presentable. I began brushing my hair with my fingers, fixing my top and adjusting my skirt to cover my legs.

“I should go check on the baby.” I muttered, reaching for the doorknob, too embarrassed to look at him. Michael stopped me, taking me into his embrace and kissing me passionately.

“It’s not like that. I’m not seeing anyone. It’s my sister Latoya. I know that irritating voice anywhere.” He chuckled, leaning his forehead against mine he continued. “If I don’t go out there she will just keep screaming until she finds us. And, as much as I would love for her to meet you, maybe in the middle of our—.” He paused, clearly thinking of the right thing to say and how to avoid hurting my feelings.

“Quickie in the hallway?” I asked innocently, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well, that’s one way to put it. I was going to say, impromptu love making.”

“What a gentleman.”

“Only for you beautiful.” He left a lingering kiss on my forehead. “I really don’t want to, but I gotta see what my very annoying sister wants.”

“It’s okay.”

“Wait.” He shrugged off his button down shirt, leaving him in a tight white undershirt, goodness his chest is perfect. He draped his shirt over my shoulders, his hands traveling down the length of my back, squeezing my bum one last time. “Just so you don’t go on missing me too much.”

“Is that so, Mr. Jackson?”

“Well, I’ll definitely be missing you.” His breath causing my lips to tingle, needing to feel him again, I could feel through his pants just how much he wanted me too. The look in his eyes, making me want to tear his clothes off and pounce on him.

“Little brother!” The loud high-pitched voice was moving closer causing me to jump, Michael sent me an apologetic smile.

“Fine, go.” I playfully rolled my eyes. “Don’t be too long. Please.” I smirked, batting my eyelashes at him.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He gulped, his eyes growing wide. “I will gladly disown my whole family to avoid future interruptions.”

“No!” I laughed, pushing him towards the door. “Go see your sister.”

“We will be finishing this tonight.” He winked. “I am nowhere near done with you.”

Michael left the room, leaving me to overthink his last words. I regretted letting him leave, call me selfish, but I didn’t want to share him, especially, when I just got him. I could still feel the electricity from his touch.

“What happened? The floor is covered with broken glass! I heard loud pounding!” Latoya’s voice pierced through the door. I quickly covered my mouth to muffle my laughter. Michael was right about her voice.

“It’s none of your business!” I heard Michael say loudly. “Now, stop with the yelling I got a baby napping.”

I couldn’t wait for tonight. I couldn’t wait to feel Michael.

He was right.

I missed him so much already.

[sc0tters]

What’s Best For You | Adam Fantilli

summary: with the draft hanging over Adam’s head and the view of you getting on with another man brings the end of your relationship, but what happens when you two see each other again?

request: yes/no

warnings: none

prompt: “if you leave don’t come back.”

word count: 2.21k

authors note: I wasn’t planning on writing this one but Adam got the hatty yesterday and I figured we should celebrate him. This isn’t like my normal writing as I got the whole idea for the prompt at like 2 in the morning and just went with it. If you want to see more from the 500 celly you can do so here!

The topic of the draft hung over you both like a bad smell that you couldn’t shake.

Each time one of you brought it up the other would change the subject usually muttering on about how “fate would take its course” or “it’s out of our control so let’s not worry.” But tonight Adam seemed like he was on a mission.

You two had left a party early after Adam saw JJ flirting with you. Now the Fantilli boy wasn’t jealous, he knew you would never cross that line with another man because you loved Adam.

But there was something about that image that he couldn’t stop thinking about. From the way the blonde laughed at your jokes or how your eyes lit up when you saw him.

At first Adam thought you were just friends who had a few classes together, yet that was exactly how you met Adam.

And after nights of staying up wondering what he was meant to do about leaving you, it seemed that tonight he finally had his answer “why are you saying this?” You asked pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.

Adam had tried to explain it to you for the fifth time but you still refused to hear his message “I can’t love you the way some guys here can if I’m on the west coast.” Adam sighed as he was predicted to go second to the Ducks all the way in Anaheim.

Whilst the boy loved you with all of his heart, to the point where you were the only thing his mind thought of when he woke up and when he went to sleep. Adam came to the conclusion that evening, that it wasn’t fair to expect you to do that long distance relationship.

Tears formed in your eyes “that’s meant to be something I decide, not you Adam!” Your voice broke as you finally realised what was going on here.

Adam was about to break up with you.

It felt like a slap in the face, the man you loved more than you ever thought you could love anyone was telling you that the last six months was all for nothing.

As much as he wanted to hug you and kiss those tears away the hockey player knew that he couldn’t, instead he had to watch them roll down your cheeks “I should go y/n.” Adam’s words had your feet dragging your body towards him.

There was no baby, darling, love, princess that fell from his lips. No, now you were simply just y/n the name you had your entire life now felt bland and boring.

You shook your head “tell me you love me.” You mumbled feeling the sadness replaced by this sense of hurt “tell me that this is all just a dream and that when I wake up you’ll be by my side.” As sobs got stuck in your throat you cut yourself off “I can’t lose you Adam.” You cried finally letting go as his silence seemed to serve as the stark reminder of the reality that was hitting you with the same strength as the cold Michigan winter air when you walk outside in the morning.

The boy shook his head “it’s for the best,” he repeated cupping your cheeks with his hands as he titled your head up so that he could kiss your forehead.

A tear from his eyes landed on your hair soaking the soft strands as his hands dropped to his sides “goodbye sweets,” Adam forced the words from his lips digging his nails into his palms as he stared at you for one final time.

Acting like he didn’t have your face memorised, each scar, each spot, each dimple, he could pinpoint them all. But this time he just wanted to see you, even if it had to be with tears streaming down your face.

As you watched Adam turn around and head back to your dorm door, the pain you were feeling morphed into anger. You were angry at how easily he was willing to give up on you two without giving you a proper reason why, how he made you feel like the only girl in the world to only go and pull the plug on it all when you least expected it. What pissed you off the most was that he had all of these opportunities to break up with you and decided that the last party of the school year was the best option “if you leave now, you better not come back.” The warning in your tone came through as Adam stopped in his tracks.

Not a single coherent thought went through his brain as all he wanted to do was turn around and kiss you whilst he told you just how stupid he was. But instead Adam simply shook his head before he walked out of your room leaving you confused, drunk and upset.

That was two months ago and Adam wanted to call you every minute of every day but he didn’t. Every time he did something he only wanted to tell you about it, but he couldn’t.

Not even you were posting things from your families lake house with none other that JJ McCarthy.

Adam knew that your lake houses were at the same lake literally two minutes away from each other because the day you learnt about it you went and told Adam all about it.

A giggle left your lips as JJ placed his hand on your shoulder “I’ve got to get to practice,” he groaned seeing the clock on the dining hall wall.

You nodded sending him a smile “I’ll see you later J,” you waved watching him nod “bye y/n.” JJ sent you a salute before he walked off.

Adam was quick to walk over to you when he realised you were now alone “what was all that about baby?” He asked leaning down to peck your lips.

Again Adam wasn’t jealous, he felt like you could be friends with anyone that your heart could dream of. But the way JJ looked at you was what made his skin crawl “JJ lives down the road from the lake house in the summer!” You explained locking your hand with his as you began walking back the boys table.

“Funny that right?” You added totally unaware of how Adam was.

To him it had to take an idiot to see that JJ liked you, and part of Adam couldn’t even blame JJ for it, you were a total catch that any guy would be lucky to get.

You stared at the picture of Adam and Luca in their suits that the older Fantilli had uploaded to his close friends story “look we don’t have to watch this if you don’t want to.” JJ sighed seeing you frown.

The draft was one thing you always watched with your grandad who now wasn’t here, so as much as you didn’t want to see Adam you weren’t doing this for him “no I’m good.” You forced a smile onto your lips.

JJ decided to not question you further as he let the volume of the tv go louder as you two watched the third pick. The boy suggested that you only started watching then to avoid seeing Adam “the Columbus Blue Jackets are proud to announce from the University of Michigan Adam Fantilli!” Your eyes went wide seeing your ex get up “what about Anaheim?” You croaked feeling yourself grow sick.

Before the boy had the chance to check on you your body pushed off the couch as you ran to the bathroom.

It had been over eight months since you had been into the Yost and the place you grew to love in your freshman year now felt foreign “if you want to leave let me know.” You felt guilty with how good JJ had been to you since the school year started.

The boy had been good to you as he always made sure you were okay. Whether it was being your company at a party or simply just checking in on you, JJ had grown to hold a special place in your heart but that didn’t make you feel any sense of comfort.

Truth was that you longed for Adam, your roommate had to go as far as delete Adam’s number from your phone after you tried calling him drunk one evening.

You sent JJ a nod as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders giving you a comforting squeeze “he isn’t here anyways.” You pointed out assuming that Adam was with his team celebrating the win against the Redwings in Detroit.

But of course the universe had to prove you wrong as the jumbotron picked up your conversation with JJ flashing your faces on the big screen. You let out a laugh pointing at it “you okay Adam?” Julia asked her son seeing the frown on his face.

Adam nodded forcing a smile on his face “she looks happy,” he shrugged trying to ignore the painful feeling that shot through his chest.

The games end came fast as the wolverines shut out Minnesota. You wanted to drag JJ out of there as you heard the rumours that Adam was there but the football star seemed to have other plans as he forced the excuse that Dylan had something for the boy.

You practically hid behind him as you didn’t know what you were going to do if you saw Adam, your brain couldn’t decide if you preferred the idea of hugging him or cursing him for putting you through the pain that he had done so.

But before you could think about it any further JJ dropped a bombshell on you “I’m going to give you guys a moment.” He mumbled moving to the side so you could lock eyes with Adam and Luca who seemed to be having a similar conversation.

Before you knew it Adam was awkwardly stood in front of you “hey,” you mumbled shoving your hands into the Michigan hoodie to hat was undeniably something you stole from Adam all those months ago.

The Fantilli boy just took the moment to stare at you and your feature as he took in how beautiful you looked “hi.” The hockey player smiled fiddling with the watch on his wrist.

It irritated you how Adam didn’t seem to feel the pain you felt, you had concealer caked beneath your eyes to avoid revealing your dark circles from that lack of sleep “how is your boyfriend?” That comment only aggravated you further as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“JJ is just my friend you dickhead.” You spat causing the boy’s eyes to go wide.

He had to say that he was surprised to hear that you were still single as that little part of him selfishly hoped that you were still in love with him “some of us find it harder to move on when we get dumped out of the blue than others.” You knew it was low but you sent the blow anyways as you had seen all of the rumours and all of the TikTok’s about Adam’s new lovers as he was seen as the dream boy of Columbus.

Adam let out a laugh causing you to cross your arms “this isn’t funny Adam.” You grumbled frowning as your now upset look was clearly highlighted.

Just like how he used to Adam cupped your cheeks forcing you to look at him “all those girls try and I can’t seem to shut up about you.” Adam’s confession had your eyebrows raising in surprise.

In all honesty you truly thought that he broke up with you so he could pursue other things when he left, or at least that was how you liked to think about it because it was easier to try to hate him for leaving you.

Your lips formed a pout “really?” It weirdly warmed your heart to hear that news. Adam nodded as he smiled “thought it was for the best ending it but the truth is I’m still crazy about you.” Adam mumbled tucking your hair behind your ear.

If anyone could see how you were feeling on the inside they’d call you pathetic as you were grinning from ear to ear “I’m sorry for leaving you baby.” Adam sighed wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you into a hug.

You let his familiar cologne invade your nostrils as you melted into his arms “I just want you back.” Most people would have been ashamed to be that open with the guy that dumped them, but for you this was simply just what your heart needed to be brought to ease after all of those late nights crying yourself to sleep.

Adams hands went back to your chin tilting your head up to see his face eyes “you never lost me.” With those words he brought his lips down to yours.

As you felt your body grow warm at that familiar feeling of his lips on yours, you both knew that your were right back where you needed to be. With him in your arms and you in his even if it was under the lights of the Yost arena, you were both home.

[drivelikeiido]

fallen for you

an impulsive matty admits his feelings for you

word count: 1.1k

warnings: just a lil bit of smoking and a lil bt of pining

notes: this is the first time i've written a fic in years so I'M SORRY, not my best by far but all the writing on here inspired me to try and write again <3 also i wanted to write some nervous matty because he needs humbled so here we go (i also wrote this first thing in the morning so even more apologies for my tired brain) oh! and the reader is in the support band for the 1975 because i'm self indulgent in my writing like that

The stars in the sky were all that occupied your mind as you sat outside the venue. The night was a peaceful calm, a refreshing contrast compared to the show your band had just performed on stage opening for the boys. 

However the night's quiet is disrupted as the heavy backdoor to the venue opens from behind and Matty appears to join you, already in his suit and tie ready to go onstage, only if he knew what that look did to scramble your brain every night, it was almost annoying that someone could look so effortlessly good. 

He sits down and pulls out his packet of cigarettes, inhaling deeply as he lights one up and gestures briefly to you if you want one, you silently raise your hand up in refusal, he’s enough for you right now, your legs side by side as you sit on the freezing steps. The brief contact is enough to warm your entire body.

You sit in comfortable silence for minutes, the only sounds are the slow burning of his cigarette and the tapping of his shoes on the dark ground. You appreciate him silently, wondering to yourself how you even got this opportunity and how messy it's become now that you've unfortunately grown to appreciate the frontman of the band you're touring with in a not so platonic way. Grown so accustomed to the silence and the whirling of your thoughts his sudden speech is almost startling, his confession even more so. 

“I’m totally obsessed with you,” 

“I've wanted to kiss you for ages you know,” he adds after a beat. The shock of his confession causes the breath to seem to leave your lungs but you manage to whisper out “and what’s stopping you?”

“Didn’t think you’d want me to” he states, still refusing to make eye contact and looking into the waves of smoke floating up into the air instead. Despite his steady voice you realise he's nervous and the thought alone is enough to make you smile. Seconds pass and the cold evening air no longer seems to faze you as you build up enough confidence to ask what you've wanted for months now. 

“Do it. Kiss me. Please,” your voice barely loud enough, but he seems to hear. 

Despite his nervousness he bites back the teasing comment waiting to spill from the tip of his tongue; that could wait for later, he’d been thinking of this moment for too long to screw it up, and the boys would never let him forget it if he did.

He pulls the cigarette from his lips and exhales one last cloud of grey smoke, the addictive smell that you’ve  grown to associate with him fills your chest as he throws the butt to the ground. His rough hands move to cradle your face so gently as if he fears you could pop and dissolve through his fingers at any moment, as if he was scared you would change your mind or even if this was all a dream. 

The kiss surprises you in its gentleness and as you move together you realise this is something you’ll never bore of, the feeling of needing his lips engraved into your skin is dizzying, a sentiment he seems to share as he leans further into the kiss, his hands cradling the sides of your face like lifelines.

When he pulls back, his brown eyes are twinkling brighter than the stars you're under and the purest smile you’ve ever seen him wear graces his lips as he fixes your hair and places any strand moved back to its rightful place. He steps back, takes your cold hand in his and squeezes, his voice low and affectionate when he says “Come see me after the show, yeah?” and with your nod he disappears back inside the venue, leaving your brain to catch up with what just happened.

You’re glad he’s gone inside so he can’t see the seemingly immovable blush that's taken permanent residence on your cheeks, you'd never hear the end of the teasing if he saw that. You stay in the cold of the evening for a little longer, the chill of the air circling you and helping to slow the beating of your heart, the memory of the smell of his smoke and aftershave and how it now seems to cling to your clothes still working to fluster you despite his absence.

As you head back into the halls of the venue you feel the need to confirm that the moment was real, and not just another cruel daydream after months on the road. You take out your phone and text him,

‘i’m obsessed with you too, for the record’

His reply is almost immediate,

‘i know, love’ .

“Cocky prick” you whisper to yourself, his proud reply so Matty it makes you giggle and works to calm any growing concerns you may have had. Shoving the phone into your back pocket you make your way to the greenroom with everyone else to wait while the boys perform, your heart beating that bit faster as the set gets nearer and nearer to the end, “Come see me after the show, yeah?” playing over and over in your head.

Once the show was over and most of the set taken down, your steps are embarrassingly quick as you walk to the back of the venue, once again to the boys' delegated smoking area, already smelling the intoxicating smoke that hung in the air that was undoubtedly coming from him. He turns as you round the corner, his lips raising into a smirk as he throws the burnt out butt to the ground, stamping it with his dress shoes. He waits for you to walk close to him, his eyes never once leaving yours before grabbing out at your shirt and pulling you flush to him, your arms moving to rest on his chest. Despite the chill in the air the heat between your bodies was enough to make your skin blush immediately. His eyes looked down at you mischievously as his fingers toy with your shirt absentmindedly behind your back.

“So you’re obsessed with me, huh?” 

You huff out a laugh and look up to see that smug grin plastered over his beautiful face, his skin glowing and his curls a mess after his performance onstage. 

“Don’t let it go to your head, we don’t need any more to feed your ego” you tease, poking at his forehead and watching as he momentarily closes his eyes at the motion.

His saccharine grin returns, “Too late for that darlin, you’ve confessed your undying obsession with me there’s no getting rid of me now”

You drop your head to his chest, subtly revelling in the affection as his arms wrap around you, enveloping you in comfort, making it impossible to ever imagine leaving them.

“You’re insufferable, you know that,” you laugh and despite your teasing he drops a kiss to your head, 

“Yeah but I’m yours now, and that’s all that matters”