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sincerelyneo · 22 hours ago

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heaven | z.cl

“beyond infatuation, how i obsessively adore you”

💿now playing: heaven by niall horan

❯ summary: Chenle has never been in love—but then he meets you—and he slowly realises he’s become obsessed. He just needs to tell you…and there’s no better time to say it than when he’s fucking you senseless.

❯ pairings: chenle x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, tooth rottingly sweet smut, swearing, brief mention of marking, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), creampie, no plot lmao, fluffy sex, excessive use of pet names, nipple play, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), chenle being obsessed with reader, love confessions, literally just chenle being a cute boyfriend because i want him, i’m so serious this is just smut lol

(chenle lovers rise, you’re just like me 🤭)

He loves you.

Chenle’s never been in love before—didn’t really know what it felt like until you walked into his life. He’s never said it outright, hasn’t even realised how deep he’s fallen until you pull his lower lip gently between your teeth, fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of his neck. The cool metal of your ring—the one he bought for you—presses against the warmth of his skin, and his heart pounds like it’s trying to break through his chest to reach you; wants to tell you he’s yours, and has been for a while.

Chenle’s fingers dig into your sides a little harder, and you gasp softly into his mouth. And God—suddenly it feels like there’s too much fabric between you. That’s how he knows he’s in love: because he loves that dress on you, adores it actually, and still, he wants nothing more than to see it on his bedroom floor.

His hands tug at the fabric, pulling it up just enough to bunch above your hips, and you shift to free it from where it’s pinned between your thighs and his.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, jeans growing tighter as his hands slide beneath your skirt, settling on your hips and landing on your ass.

He presses a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth, then another along your cheek, trailing a line down to your jaw. His tongue and teeth make themselves known as he works his way toward your pulse point, and he has to bite back a grin when your head tips back, a soft hitch catching in your breath.

“Lele,” you mutter, fingers tugging on his shirt. “Please...too many clothes.”

He hums, the sound of his sweet little angel begging for him, needing him, has every ounce of blood rushing to his cock.

He wants to savour this, tease you for it, as he bites softly into the skin at your neck, leaving the faintest mark. But then you shift above him, pressing down, and any control he thought he had slips. He nips at you a little harder, breath catching, because your touch is just as intoxicating as it is maddening—truthfully, heaven couldn’t compare.

He brings one hand up to your hair, fingers exploding until he reaches the back of your head and gives it a gentle tug. Your hiss in response and a shiver runs through him. His tongue soothes over the mark he’s left on your neck before he trails up toward your ear, lips lingering there, breath warm.

“So do something about it,” he says, and his voice deepens with want, low and gruff, and he feels the way your thighs tense at the sound.

Your palms glide along his stomach towards his chest and you hastily try to free him from his shirt. And there it is again, the cold press of metal into his feverish skin. It’s like your touch is made of something—something that pulls the air from his lungs and with it, a muttered string of moans muffled by more kisses.

He lifts his arms, letting you remove his shirt, but wastes no time sliding one hand back under your dress, the other rising to cup your cheek, pulling you closer. With you on his lap, Chenle has to tilt his head slightly to meet your gaze. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, and your eyes flutter closed, the soft sigh escaping your lips drives him insane.

Fuck, he loves you so much.

You look like an angel—his angel—as the light filtering through the curtains surrounds you, casting a soft glow that makes you seem otherworldly. Chenle can’t quite believe his luck, can’t fathom how he’s managed to strike gold, to reach Heaven, and have you here with him. He gets to touch you, no one else.

He must have been a saint in a past life.

He can’t help himself, his body urging him to lean up and press his lips to yours again. The kiss is soft, slow, and sweet, and you melt against him, body relaxing completely in his arms. Chenle could die like this—solely in your kiss. He’d die the happiest man on record, simply because he knows what it’s like to kiss you.

You smile against his lips—his favourite thing ever—and he nearly pouts when you pull back, ending the kiss. Your eyes meet his, pupils blown wide, eyelashes casting soft shadows against your flushed cheeks. Chenle’s mind takes a photograph.

Your palm flattens against his chest, pushing him to lie flat on the bed. His eyes fall closed as you repay his earlier touch by pressing your lips to his jaw, your hand squeezing his bicep, and your hips moving above his again. His jeans feel unbearably tight now, and he can practically hear the smirk on your lips as your nimble fingers slip down his stomach, making quick work of his buckle.

He sighs your name, hands roaming the smooth expanse of your thighs before squeezing your ass when you decide to grind down on him. Your moans are quiet, gradually syncing with his, your fingers teasing at the waistband of his boxers, making his pulse race.

“So fucking perfect,” he mewels in between kisses.

You practically melt into him, and Chenle takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist to roll on top of you—just how he likes it.

“Chenle.”

You breathe heavily, hands clutching the hem of your dress, tugging at it desperately. The way you’re practically whining his name, those pretty full eyes begging him to take it off, makes him feel dizzy. He just needs you out of that dress.

So he does. When he finally pulls the dress off, he settles onto his knees between your slightly ajar legs, hands sliding up your sides, feeling every curve of your body. He leans down, pressing a deliberate kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, taking his time, savouring the way you hum beneath him.

Your hands tangle in his hair, your hips shifting as you silently beg him for more, and Chenle gets the hint—of course he does—but making you a wreck is one of his favourite hobbies. So, he only lets his breath ghost over the place you want him most, teasing you with soft kisses along the band of your underwear, knowing exactly how to torment you.

Just because he’s realised he loves you doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be a menace. In fact, it only makes him more determined to make you feel everything—each kiss, each touch, each teasing move a reminder that he’s completely and utterly consumed by you.

“Chenle, I…” Your words trail off into a gasp as his fingers trace the curve of your breast.

“What, angel?” he asks, voice low again.

He places a kiss into your hip bone, sucking a mark into the skin, and your fist tightens in his hair, the sensation making you pant.

“Mmh, I just—fuck, Lele—”

He cuts you off, his mouth moving down between your legs again, his tongue moving along the soft skin of your inner thigh, nose brushing against the edge of your panties, but never quite hitting where you want—need him to be. He nips, bites, and kisses his way along your skin, drawing soft moans from you until you can’t hold back anymore. You let your legs fall further apart, and he feels the subtle, rhythmic motion of your hips seeking friction.

So fucking cute, he thinks.

And when he hears his name fall from your lips as a wanton whine, he groans, unable to hold back. His hand slips to your chest, thumb and forefinger teasing at your nipple.

“Shit, Chenle, please,” you plead, and the desperation in your voice sends a jolt of heat straight to his cock.

He loves this—loves you—needy and desperate. The sound of your voice, the way you crave him, it has him straining in his jeans, and he no longer wants to tease. Not anymore.

One of his hands trails up the inside of your leg, from knee to inner thigh, slipping beneath your waistband. He can feel the heat radiating from you, even through the lacy layer still separating you.

“I want you,” you murmur lazily, and who is he to deny you anything? He’s never been good at it anyway.

Chenle’s fingers move quickly to pull your panties to the side, and he swipes one of his fingers through your folds—so wet—relishing in the way your breath catches and your chest heats the same way as your cheeks.

He pulls away, allowing himself a moment to really look at you. You’re looking back at him with half-lidded eyes, chest rising and falling shakily, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your skin. He’s hit gold—fucking gold.

He brushes a finger over your clit, drawing out a sharp noise from you that makes his cock twitch in his boxers. His lips drop to your skin, his teeth grazing your peaked nipple as he sucks it into his mouth.

A soft cry escapes as you arch up, and Chenle takes the opportunity to press a finger at your entrance, barely dipping in before pulling back. The tease leaves you tense, a whine slipping out when he returns to circling just outside.

His free hand grips your other nipple, pinching, pulling, and rubbing his thumb over it until you’re grinding against him, your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him down like the bossy girl he knows—and loves.

“Chenle, I need you,” you whimper, pushing him with a little more urgency.

He slides a finger inside you, twisting and curling it until a breathy curse slips from your lips in response, and to him, it feels like a reward.

“Need me?” he teases, curling his finger again. “You already have me angel.”

“Fuck, I—oh, do that again,” you beg.

He chuckles against your stomach, but still, he gives you exactly what you want. His thumb finding your clit, making your hand shoot up to your mouth to stifle the needy sounds you're making—that won't do.

Chenle releases your nipple, using his now free hand to tug your hand away from your lips, which are swollen from his earlier kisses. He waits until he hears you moaning again for him, loving the sound, before properly removing the last bit of fabric. You whimper at the sudden loss of his touch, but you eagerly lift your hips, legs slowly falling apart as he drags your panties off, until, finally—finally—you’re laid bare before him.

The sight of you laid out like this only reminds him of how much he loves having his head between your thighs, his mouth on your cunt. It’s funny, really—Chenle’s always been a selfish lover, but when it comes to you, he can’t get enough of giving.

So he slides his ring and middle finger deep inside your pussy. Pressing up against that spot which always makes you grip his hair. And to top it all off, he wraps his lips around your clit; you scream. It's the kind of scream that Chenle loves to hear when he's worshipping you with his fingers and tongue—so he can't help but moan into you.

You clench around his fingers from the vibration of his moan, thighs trembling as they move to close around his head. But he’s quick, wrapping an arm around you, his hand gripping your thigh firmly to keep you open for him. Your taste fills his mouth, sweet and addictive, and he thinks he’d spend every moment of every day tasting you like this if you’d let him.

Because he loves making you cum. It’s a skill he’s mastered, one he’d probably show off if he wasn’t so possessive.

He knows that if he moves his fingers just right, he’ll draw a gasp and a sharp tug on his hair; if he circles his tongue slowly over your clit, you’ll press harder into his mouth. And if he pulls your clit between his lips, sucking with just the right amount of pressure whilst his tongue moves in tight circles and his fingers work against your g-spot, you’ll fall apart beneath him in seconds.

And you don’t disappoint.

Your breath catches, your stomach tightens, and your hands scramble for anything to hold—his shoulders, the sheets, his hair. Your legs try to close, but his hand keeps one pinned down, relentless as he keeps going. A broken sound slips from your lips, your back arching, head thrown back. You tremble beneath him, and he feels the warm gush of wetness against his fingers as the hand tangled in his hair tries to push him away.

You’re panting, choking out a string of his name and curses, and it’s easily Chenle’s favourite sound.

He pulls his mouth from you with an obscene pop, but keeps his fingers still and full inside you, leaving you gasping as you prop yourself up on your elbows, trying to catch your breath. Chenle presses a kiss to your lower stomach, looking up at you. You give him that sleepy, post-orgasm smile he loves so much.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he murmurs, sucking another mark into your skin.

He wants to see you fall apart again, to watch you sweat and tremble, be incoherent and glowing—but his dick is throbbing against the mattress, and he thinks he might actually combust if he doesn’t feel your warmth around him in the next few seconds.

You whine when he finally pulls his fingers from you slowly, and because it’s Chenle, he makes sure to brush his thumb over your clit one last time. Then, he quickly sheds his boxers and is back on top of you, his hips pressing against yours as his mouth eagerly finds your lips.

Your hand reaches down, wrapping around his length, and soft fingers start to move up and down. Your thumb rubs over his sensitive tip, spreading the bead of precum that’s gathered there, and his forehead falls against your shoulder, a low groan leaving his mouth.

You make him weak, his breath catching at the way your skin feels like fire against his, the way you fit against him like you were made for him—it’s more than just lust.

“I love you.”

It’s the first time he’s ever said it to a girlfriend, said it to you, and it makes him drop his head, kissing your bruised neck, embarrassment colouring his cheeks. The words echo in your own ears, and you smile—not just at how cute he’s being, but because you know he means it. Your free hand taps his chin, tipping his head up to meet your gaze.

“I love you,” you say back, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, hand still working him.

With the other, you drag a thumb against his cheek, over his lips, tugging at the bottom one down gently; he takes it in his mouth, eyes full of love as he swirls his tongue around it, and your hand tightens around him.

Chenle grabs one of your legs, his hand gliding up the curve of your calf and thigh until he can bend it toward your chest, resting it on his shoulder. You guide him to your entrance, and without resistance, he’s sliding in—as he said—you were made for him.

He pushes until your hips are flush with his, groaning at the way you moan, pulling his chest down to yours. And when he finally decides to move, he takes his time and great pleasure in, teasing you with just his tip before pushing back in.

From there, he finds a steady rhythm—in and out, in and out. Reckless and rough. He uses the leg on his shoulder for leverage, hitting all the spots he knows make your breath hitch, eyes flutter, and name fall from your lips. Chenle’s hand drifts to your chest, his thumb brushing over one of your nipples, and you nod frantically up at him.

“Yes, please—oh fuck,” you whine as he pinches the sensitive skin, tugging gently.

He drops his head, watching himself disappear into you, and you clench around him. Your nails dig into his back as he keeps teasing your soft peaks, knowing exactly how to make you close again.

His hand moves to seek out your clit, his fingers drawing small circles across your sensitive bud. You let out a drawn-out, high-pitched cry and his thumb moves quicker, more desperate. With one more final, particularly hard, deep thrust, he feels you fluttering around him, and you’re pulling his head down to crash your lips to his.

He works you through your orgasm, mumbling a muddled mix of your name and I love you and a string of curses into your mouth as you shudder under him. Starting from now, Chenle will pride himself on his restraint, because he has to force himself not to follow after you straight away. He wants to see you cum again—needs to hear, feel, and witness you unravel for him. He wants you like putty beneath him, several orgasms deep, blissed out and so fucking sensitive that every brush of his body against yours has you gasping out his name.

He presses his lips to yours one more time before slowly pulling out, the whimper you make beneath him making his heart race and his dick twitch. Your hands reach for him, but he grabs your hips, rolling you over, positioning you on your hands and knees. You look back at him over your shoulder—so fucking beautiful.

He really does love you.

He presses a kiss to the base of your spine, his hands gripping your hips. Inch by inch, he mouths his way up your back, squeezing your flesh with just enough pressure to leave red marks of his fingertips, but not enough to hurt.

He ruts against you, teasing your cunt as he refuses to thrust into you. You drop your head between your arms onto the pillow, mumbling something incoherent. He leans down, close enough to nip at your earlobe.

“I can’t hear you when your face is in the pillow, angel,” he coos, still only letting his hips grind.

You push back against him, needing more, and he digs his fingers into your hips a little harder. He reaches down, takes himself in his hand, and lines his cock up with your pussy, making you hum.

"I still can't hear you," he slides his tip over your clit, making your hips jerk. "Can you try repeating it for me, angel? Properly this time?"

He does it again, twice more, before you lift your head and plead with him.

"Shit, Lele, please. Oh my god, I—," Your words dissolve into a cry when he pushes into you, and you drop your head back down. "Fuck."

You move your hips back in a broken rhythm, trying to meet his thrusts. Your skin is slick with sweat, and you turn your head to look at him, breath coming out in desperate pants every time he fills you.

“Oh, oh, don’t—fuck—don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“God, angel,” he grunts. “So fucking perfect for me.”

He gathers your hair, giving it a sharp tug that tilts your head back. Your hips move needily and quickly, and Chenle pulls you up by the waist, pressing your back flush against his chest. His fingers still hold your hair, and he tugs it, making you rest your head on his shoulder. Your lips find his, and you're babbling broken noises into his mouth.

Fuck, he’s so close, you feel so good wrapped around him. You know it too, tensing and trembling, and then collapsing against him, with your nerves on fire. Chenle holds you close and tight with him until he meets your orgasm with his own. Thrusting deep and roughly until he’s releasing spurts of cum inside you with a strangled groan of your name.

Chenle holds you intimately even after you've both come down, his hands rubbing gently up and down your sides. You’re breathing heavily, your body still quivering every so often. You struggle to keep your eyes open as he drops a small, sweet kiss to your lips. Your thumb brushes his cheek, and he kisses you again, then once more, just because he can.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispers.

You smile up at him. “I love you, Chenle.”

But he doesn’t just love you. The word doesn’t feel strong enough. He’s obsessed. Tormented by thoughts of you that go far beyond infatuation. He obsessively adores you—and you think, no, you know, you obsessively adore him too.

#chenle smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #chenle x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct hard hours #nct one shot #kpop smut #kpop x reader

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hyunebunx · 1 day ago

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maybe it's not our fault - chapter 01

── synopsis: after a nasty breakup that’s left you completely shattered, you’re set on giving up on love forever. That is until, in a surprising turn of events, your respective best friends start dating and one of their main goals is to restore the peace in your broken relationship. Will their plan succeed? Will they manage to play cupid and get you and your high school sweetheart back together, or will it all backfire and result in the end of their own love story?

There is only one way to find out. If only your beloved’s heart wasn’t already broken beyond repair…

╰─▸ ❝ pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

╰─▸ ❝ content: exes to lovers, angst, mutual pining, fluff, suggestive themes, drama and heartbreak, jock!hyunjin who is captain of the uni's football team + dance major!hyunjin, college au, lack of communication.

╰─▸ ❝ word count: 10k

a/n: it's here!! special thank you to my croissant baby laure @byunfirstlady (this wouldn't be a me story if i didn't mention her somehow fgfdgh) for reading this for me before posting!! since this is the first chapter, things might feel a little slow, but dw, it will all pick up soon! enjoy <33 and do let me know your thoughts after reading <3

“That is not going to fit!”

He scoffs, already annoyed. “Yes, it is! Just move over a little.”

“A little? I’m already stretched the fuck out! What more do you want from me?”

“Seohyun, I swear to fucking God – “

She yelps, most likely cramping. “Just pull it out, you dumbass – “

“What the hell is going on in here?”

You and Chan stop dead in your tracks, confused at the scene currently playing out in front of your very eyes. You were gone downstairs for less than ten minutes to get the rest of your stuff, with you and Chan carrying a box each that held the essentials to ensure this move went smoothly. And in that time frame, your two other best friends have already managed to be at each other’s throats.

The front door of your apartment was wide open, with dumb and dumber currently looking like two deers caught in headlights on opposite sides, separated by an old armchair whose springs had become a death trap over the years. Last year, when you held parties here, someone was always left standing — it was either the cursed chair or the floor, with most guests picking the latter once they were drunk enough.

“Uh, hi?” Jisung greets, forcing a smile onto boyish features that haven’t changed much since you met almost seven years ago, in high school.

Bewiled, you set the box down by Chan’s feet and approach. “Are you guys, okay? What happened?”

Whistling, Jisung tries to pretend he has everything under control. He doesn’t, he never does, that’s just the type of guy he was. “Duh, we’re fantastic! Everything is under control, don’t even – “

Called it.

“For the love of god, just shut up and let them help us already!” Seohyun barks from the other side, prompting you to peek in to see her straighten her posture, rubbing her wrists in obvious discomfort. With a sigh and a glare from Jisung who steps back to allow Chan to take his place, she explains. “We were trying to get this chair out to make room for the new one.”

Chuckling, Chan inspects the door frame while you pass Seohyun one of the boxes right over the ugly, red chair that’s seen better days. “And it got stuck?”

“Yes, because Jisung didn’t want to listen – “

“Or maybe because you started pushing when I wasn’t ready, like an idiot.” He counters instantly, never one to back out from a fight instigated by Seohyun. Not to be fooled, these two were as close as can be, the bickering reflective of their special bond.

You and Chan share a look as they start again, amusement clear in gentle, doe eyes that have comforted you numerous times over the years. Meeting back in the summer before high school, you and Chan have been attached at the hip ever since, clicking as pre-teens and growing up together, maturing down the same path that’s led you to the same university, and even the same major you also shared with Jisung. Music production has always been a passion of yours, so getting to fulfil that dream with your absolute best friend by your side was a blessing you couldn’t be more thankful for.

“Alright.” Chan stops their bickering, one hand landing on Jisung’s shoulder to get his attention. “Stand on it.”

“Pardon?” Jisung blinks at him, as confused as you and Seohyun were, not sure he heard Chan right.

Smiling, Chan squeezes his shoulder. “So, you can step on the backrest and make it fall over. It will be easier to move afterwards.”

“You think so?” He asks, biting down on his bottom lip, not confident in the slightest.

Your best friend nods, giving his bottom an encouraging pat. “Positively. Now go on, I don’t want to spend my whole day in this hallway.”

Seohyun scrambles back, unwilling to get caught in between Jisung and the chair, giving him enough room to do what he must to free her exit.

Watching the whole scene unfold has you smiling from ear to ear, struggling to keep your laughter at bay once Jisung realizes the task isn’t as dangerous as he expected. It’s anticlimactic, more than anything, as he gets on top of the chair to step on the backrest, going down slowly without even losing his balance.

He blinks, barely realizing it’s over before making eye contact with Seohyun who bursts out laughing like she’s been holding it in since the beginning. The three of you join in quickly after, your delight bouncing off the hallway walls and lifting the spirits tremendously.

After all, nobody in existence was ever excited for summer to end and classes to start again, with a new, even more demanding schedule than last year. You were in your third year now and things were bound to get difficult the closer you got to graduating.

This silly moment was exactly what you needed to start the new year right, sure it would become a core memory later down the line when you’d all be working adults, with even more responsibilities and nonexistent free time. The sight of Chan dragging the armchair out, without any difficulty whatsoever as Jisung and Seohyun’s jaws hit the floor, incredulous he didn’t struggle like they did, was sure to bring a smile to your face for years to come.

When your only access to the apartment was finally free, the four of you gathered inside with the remaining boxes.

“You weren’t kidding, you do have all of your stuff here.” Seohyun hums, scanning her surroundings, and her new home. The apartment was yours. You moved in just last year and you’ve lived by yourself until now, when you welcomed her with open arms and a little too much excitement.

“Yeah.” You nod, already moving around to put the scattered things back in their rightful places. “Sorry about the mess. I didn’t bother cleaning up before leaving.”

The living room was fine – your bedroom was the one that suffered the most, already dreading the thought of having to dig through all the mess to find most of your things.

The apartment was a gift from your parents, after successfully finishing your first year of university living in a dorm. Sure, having your own space was great, but you’d never trade that first year for anything in the world. That’s where you meet Seohyun after all, growing closer and closer with every sleepless night you spent together giggling and talking about everything under the sun, not feeling the hours tick by until one of your alarms would ring, signalling the start of a new day.

It was big, too spacious for only one person to live in, with two bedrooms and a bathroom straight out of an interior design magazine. Even though Seohyun didn’t move in until now, you were never truly alone with Jisung and Chris living right next door. Someone was always keeping you company, which you were thankful for, in more ways than one.

Already moving about like they owned the place, Chris and Jisung were helping you tidy up, with the latter moving to check for anything rotten in the kitchen. With four pairs of hands on deck, it didn’t take more than fifteen minutes for everything to be back to normal, leaving you to take care of the dusting.

“Alright.” Chan stands, carrying two trash bags. “Ji, let’s go get the armchair.”

Jisung follows before Seohyun calls after them. “Right, is it in your car?”

“I thought it was in yours?” He turns around, stopping in the doorway while Chan is already busy calling the elevator, further away.

You see her brows furrow, setting the duster down before grabbing her car keys. “Nope.”

The ding of the elevator gets your attention, and they share a look before hurrying after Chan, in search of said armchair, the door closing behind them with a quiet thud. You lived high up, on the 10th floor – nobody was ever willing to take the stairs and waste that much time.

And so, in the blink of an eye, you are left alone in the apartment that held so many of your memories, beautiful moments you wouldn’t trade even in exchange for forgetting the sad ones.

You feel a little lost, staring around like you couldn’t recognize your own home, shoulders slumping with a deep sigh. Your gaze moves towards your closed bedroom door, feet following before your hand twists the doorknob and you’re engulfed in sunlight, blinking rapidly to adjust to the change in lighting.

Inside, the sight that greets you seems frozen in time, transporting you back in June to the last moments spent in this room, where you were running around to pack in a hurry. You don’t dare move, just taking it all in as memories flood your mind and make your heart ache in your chest, what still remains of it, anyway.

All of your stuff thrown around haphazardly painted a picture you didn’t enjoy, yet couldn’t look away from either. Your bed remained unmade, with piles of clothing, bags and random objects occupying all the space. Framed photographs were thrown everywhere around the room, just so they would stop glaring at you from their place on your nightstand, face down and most likely damaged by the broken glass. The vase on your dresser, which used to stand tall with beautiful, healthy flowers seemed to have lost its color, struggling to fulfil its purpose because of the dried, mouldy peonies you didn’t bother throwing out before leaving.

But what’s even worse than the mess is what tipped you over the edge back then, falling to your knees on the fluffy, white carpet as you sobbed uncontrollably – the things he left behind were still here, in the exact same spots, in pristine condition. Your room looked like it barely survived the hurricane that shared your name, yet his red cap was still resting quietly next to the flowers he got you. One of his sketchbooks, still opened on that drawing he never got to finish as he got too busy with school, was on the other nightstand, on his side of the bed. A pair of his dancing shoes were by the door, right next to your comfy slippers. They have been there for so long, that you couldn’t enter your room without tripping over them and be reminded of his presence every single time. Hell, you bet if you checked right now, his toothbrush will still be next to yours in the cute holder you bought together, his razor not far away.

There were traces of him everywhere you looked in this apartment, clothes and necessities he left behind on his many visits. Like his football jersey, lucky number 20, you’ve worn more times than him, hung in your open closet among empty hangers that barely held on.

It wasn’t fair, how you seemed to crumble along with everything around you while he, and his stupid things, remained intact. The world shattered beneath your feet, freefalling to your doom of self-doubts and regrets while he continued with his life like nothing even happened. Like you never happened; like you weren’t such a fundamental part in his life in the exact same way he was in yours.

Your ex boyfriend moved on in the blink of an eye, while you were still here, crying at the sight of a stupid toothbrush.

This will never be fair. Why did you always seem to draw the short end of the stick?

New beginnings were usually your favorite. Starting another book, turning a new leaf and switching up your wardrobe for a change, getting the inspiration for another song – these were all activities that brought you joy. Now, returning to campus at the end of summer vacation to begin another school year? For the first time since starting university two years ago, felt like an impossible task, one you weren’t ready for in the slightest. Because how could you ever be ready to start your junior year without him?

How could you possibly embark on a new journey without him holding your hand and guiding you through it all, navigating around every hardship with ease like he was the most experienced sailor in existence?

You had no answers, only questions. Too many that were also too loud, bouncing off of the sturdy walls of your mind that were threatening to crumble with every thud, remaining standing only thanks to the unbearable headaches that reminded you to take a break from all the overthinking.

Your mind went quiet as another voice made its presence known, bringing you back to the world outside your bedroom while shooing the dark cloud above your head out the window with ease.

“Oh my god, we lost the goddamn chair!”

A wet laugh escaped your lips, more tears rolling down your cheeks as you desperately tried to wipe them all before joining your friends in the living room. You weren’t stupid – they were worried. That’s why Seohyun was moving in, in the first place. To keep an eye on you at all times, when the other two couldn’t be there and provide the much needed support you craved so badly.

Not like they knew you were aware of their little plan, having them figured out from the moment they showed up at Chan’s doorstep in Australia, last month. They’ve been tiptoeing around you since then, not knowing what emotional state you were in or what’s changed or hasn’t in the two months you spent apart. Sure, Chris might have filled them in, but they were still afraid. Afraid they were going to mess up somehow and have you slipping through their fingers and shatter at any moment, like you were nothing more than a fragile package, all progress lost the second something that reminded you of him jumped into your path.

And, you hate to admit but they were right.

They failed to take into consideration that even though your ex never actually moved in, the apartment was his as much as it was yours, quickly becoming your shared home as you fell into a routine that involved the other at every step.

Your three close friends were the only people present, but all you could see was him, a ghost roaming around and haunting every corner of the house you now despised, his giggles caressing your ears gently every time you moved from one room to the other.

Just being here felt like torture. How were you supposed to spend another two years sleeping in the same bed you shared with the person you thought was going to be your forever?

“Sweetheart.” Chan’s gentle voice coaxes you out of the room as you manage to pull yourself together, no sign of crying or distress still present on your features. If anything, they looked worse than you, crestfallen and a little embarrassed.

“We have something to tell you.” Seohyun steps closer, gently taking your hands into hers and intertwining your fingers loosely.

Jisung nods and is by your side in a second, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he lowers his mouth to your ear. “Chris lost your new armchair.”

“What the fuck?!”

Your laughter joins theirs, a beat later, as Chris remains the only one standing there, arms crossed over his chest with his words falingl on deaf ears, nobody paying attention as he begins defending himself.

When you’re pulled into a warm embrace, with Jisung’s cologne enveloping all your senses, you can’t help but start wondering. Is this a good time to finally reveal you never actually ordered a new chair or…?

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

Saturday slipped away into a moment in time, and before you knew it, Sunday was upon you. Your last chance at relaxing before the craziness began, and you’d be thrust into a series of new projects, classes and assignments that were already giving you a headache.

Despite spending the previous night celebrating a new beginning with your best friends, having an intimate pizza party with karaoke and a little too much alcohol, you wake up bright and early to get to a previously made appointment. Usually, you wouldn’t go anywhere for the summer, for the first two months anyway. But since you flew out of the country as soon as your exams were over, you didn’t get to help the animal shelter you have been volunteering at since your first year. It left a hole in your heart, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel guilty for disappearing into thin air, with nothing more than a text sent to the owner to let her know you’ll be going away for a while.

Hopefully, they’re willing to forgive and forget and let you make up for it by spending the next two months as involved as possible.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Comes Chan’s groggy voice, still husky from all the singing he did last night, stumbling out of your spare bedroom with barely open eyes.

You startle, losing your balance while putting on your other shoe and crashing into the wall by the front door. You were hoping to make a swift escape and return before any of them rose since nobody in their right mind would willingly wake up this early.

He appears from around the corner, tank top slightly raised as he’s trying to scratch at his back. “You good?”

“Yep, everything’s just peachy.” Regaining your footing, you manage to put your shoe on and turn your back to him to get a jacket, feeling too awkward to make eye contact right now, which Chan would have laughed about if he wasn’t so sleepy.

“Where are you going?” He yawns, turning to squint at the clock on the far wall, above the couch. “It’s literally 7 am, too early to even be alive right now.”

For some reason, you hesitate to tell him, too out of it for your, and most definitely his liking. Being here was certainly not doing you any good, the walls closing in every time you tried to breathe and lift all the broken pieces of your stupid heart off of your lungs. It felt suffocating, especially when you were left alone with your thoughts as you zoned out one too many times.

Still, you mumble under your breath, reaching for your keys as silently as possible.

“Huh?”

With a sigh, you finally face him, eyes downcast. “Furry Friends Rescue.”

The smile that stretches across his features as he processes your words is so wide and contagious, it brightens up the whole room like he was somehow related to the sun itself, light radiating off of him in waves. It wakes him up instantly, and before you know it, he slips into a pair of slides left by the door and flies to his apartment.

You look after him, confused, and step into the hallway at the same time he does.

“Alright, let’s go!” He beams, locking his door before reaching for your arm softly. “I’ll drive you!”

“Wait, are you sure? I can – “

“Yes, I’m sure!” He frowns, shaking his head and pulling you after him with his newfound energy. “You love it there, and I know you already miss Berry. The least I can do is offer you a ride, are you kidding?”

You can’t help but smile at the mention of his puppy, spirits lifted in an instant. She was such a special little lady and you really bonded in these three months you’ve spent at his parents’ house.

Your parents never allowed you to have a pet, with your mom being allergic, so you did what you could to fill the space that remained constantly empty in your heart.

The drive there is full of laughter and even more singing, with Chris bringing back one of the activities you loved doing since he first got his license back in high school. Carpool karaoke has always been a must in his car, and that’s why you rode with Seohyun on your way back from the airport yesterday. You were a fool because nothing was quite as therapeutic as being silly and singing Disney songs at the top of your lungs with the only person who’s watched you grow into the adult you are today.

The drive to your destination isn’t long, but you still manage to squeeze in five songs before you get off and Chris speeds off. Only after wishing you a good day and making you promise you’ll call once you’re done so he can come pick you up, too. He was too kind, willing to do too much for you sometimes, but you were just the same. You’re afraid you might try moving the moon if he asked, one day.

Your annoying, overprotective brother who wasn’t really your brother, who’d push you into the pool before jumping in to save you in the same breath. He was such a guy.

Approaching with a prep to your step, the shelter’s surroundings have changed drastically since your last visit. The trees in the back have dyed their leaves in warm shades of orange and yellow, scattering some on the ground in hopes of attracting more pet lovers. A beautiful background always pulled people in, just like all pretty things did, and this autumn is particularly beautiful, with sights straight out of famous paintings. Seoul was truly a special city, one that’s nurtured and taught you the meaning of the word love that’s being thrown around too casually for your taste, these days. The city you grew up in, where you found your love for writing and composing, and where you met the most amazing people on this planet.

No other city could compare to your birthplace, no matter how pretty or modern it was.

Just as you make to try the door, with your apology speech all ready to go, it suddenly opens and forces you to take a few steps back in surprise.

“I’m sorry, we aren’t open yet.” The apology comes from a tall man, whose delicate features would have fooled you into believing he wasn’t older than a high schooler. Yet his physique begs to differ, you could tell even from beneath all the layers. He’s wearing the shelter’s apron with the logo you’ve had Jisung design a few years back. A new employee, perhaps? You don’t recognize him, so that’s most likely the case.

Your gaze travels upwards until it meets his brown eyes that fidget at the sudden contact. “Sorry, I’m here to see Mrs. Jeon?”

The stranger shakes his head, bleached blond hair hiding an undercut following his every move. “Mrs. Jeon is out of the country.”

You wait for him to continue, provide more details but when he doesn’t and only raises a brow that almost asks ‘what are you still doing here?’ you sigh and turn to leave. “Right. Will you please tell her Y/n has stopped by?”

“Wait, Y/n L/n?”

You turn right on your heel, both of your eyebrows raised as if to challenge his. “Do I know you?”

He brings his hands up, showing he means no harm as a smile finds his rosy lips, one you don’t truly grasp the meaning of. “No! But I know you.”

Alright, now you’re properly creeped out. Noticing the look on your face, the man quickly corrects himself, letting out an awkward laugh as he rubs the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not good with strangers. Mrs. Jeon does! I was recruited in your place when you didn’t come back in June.”

Oh, so he was your replacement. Great. You had no idea you’d entered a race to see how fast people and places you frequented could replace you during the summer. Very motivating and uplifting. You should have stayed home.

“Oh.” Despite all the thoughts overlapping each other in your head, you only manage to sigh, properly exhausted.

His eyes widen slightly, and without thinking, he grasps your elbow when you turn around to leave for good. “Please do come in! Mrs. Jeon has been waiting to hear from you. She left a note.”

“A note?” When he nods, you shake off his hand and accept the invitation, stepping inside filled with curiosity.

All of the furry friends were in the back, in a separate space away from the reception. The place was modern, decorated in warm, pastel colors that seemed to welcome you with a fuzzy hug, the surroundings pristine. Furry Friends Rescue was built from the ground up by Mrs Jeon’s late husband, who passed away a few years back, right after you started volunteering here. To honor his life, she kept this place running, making it her mission to find loving homes for all the animals that were brought in, investing most of her resources into modernizing the place and treating the animals like they deserved to be treated.

The shelter housed a veterinary office and a pet salon, run by other volunteers who were experts in their fields, students alike and even working people who would come by to offer a helping hand whenever they could. Mr Jeon was a vet – he used to treat all of the animals before he fell sick and became unable to work.

Making his way around the reception desk, which truly resembled the entrance of a corporation, even with all the pet pictures plastered on all the walls, and the dog pattern on the couch, the man picks up a note that was next to the bone-shaped phone.

“Here.”

Your fingers brush his as you take the small paper from him, but you don’t pay any attention to the slight color that appears on his cheeks.

Dear Y/n,

I hope your precious heart managed to heal during your trip

What fitting words for someone who had no idea why you left in the first place. Guess Mrs. Jeon knew you better than you thought, after all.

If you’re reading this, it means I have not yet returned from visiting my grandbabies. It also means Jaemin is the one looking after the place

Please work together until I’m back. He’s a nice kid and I believe you’ll get along well

That is if you’re still willing to return. Always put yourself first. If quitting is what you think is best, just know I’ll never hold it against you

With love, grandma J

P.S. there’s a surprise on the other side 😊

Curious, you flip over the page, eyes scanning the familiar handwriting to decipher what has she left you. A giggle escapes you soon after, shaking your head with fondness spilling from your eyes at her antics. You’re glad that after everything she’s been through, Mrs. Jeon has never changed.

“Is something funny?” The guy you’ve come to learn is named Jaemin asks from the other side of the desk, head tilted slightly in wonder making him resemble an actual puppy.

You dismiss him with a wave of your wrist, pocketing the note. Mrs. J’s brownie recipe you could never get enough of wouldn’t interest him anyway.

“So, you’re Jaemin?” You finally ask, giving him a once-over. He was tall, wearing a denim-on-denim outfit and smiled a little too brightly for your liking. Still, he did look like a nice guy, so you might as well give him a chance, even if meeting someone knew was the last thing you wanted to do.

As expected, he beams, thrusting a hand forward over the desk. “That’s me! Nice to meet you, Y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You give him a small but genuine smile and shake his hand. “I’m a third year at SNU so I usually volunteer here during summer vacation. I hope we get along.”

He nods, listening to your every word. “Yeah, Mrs. Jeon mentioned we go to the same university. I’m a second year majoring in dance! I’m also a part of the football team so I apologize in advance if I ever end up leaving you here all alone when the season starts.”

Oh, what were the odds?

Your smile drops despite your effort in not reacting, retracting your hand a little too quickly while nodding and trying to act as normal as possible. “Cool.”

Turning around, you begin walking in the opposite direction to escape from this awkward situation Mrs. J has unknowingly put you in.

“Shall we go see the animals?”

He’s on your tail soon after, grabbing another apron on the way for you with that ever present sunny smile of his. Jaemin reminded you of a hyperactive puppy, a golden retriever who would do anything to make you happy, pulling silly stunts and stumbling over his own feet.

Turns out, his bright personality isn’t the only reason Mrs. J has hired Jaemin. You spend the next four hours together, taking care of the animals and talking, to your surprise. They all seemed to love him already, causing a ruckus at the mere sight of him, excited to be let out and greet you both properly. The puppies especially as they’d run back and forth from you to him without stopping for a while, barely managing to bottle feed them in their excitement. Jaemin was nice, and easy to talk to, happy to get to know you but also talk your ear off when sensing you might need a laugh, managing to make everything funny. A great pick me up, you ended up agreeing with Mrs J’s statement – he was a good guy, the best that could have replaced you and helped her and all the staff in your absence.

For some reason, he felt comfortable opening up to you, and in turn, you told him some things about yourself too.

“What made you want to volunteer here?” He suddenly asks while cradling a noisy kitten, the sight comical.

You barely think before answering, gaze still trained on the bichon that has fallen asleep in your lap while you were brushing her. “I wasn’t allowed to have pets growing up, and I’ve always loved them. I was lucky my best friend had the most adorable puppy in the world right next door, but it wasn’t the same as owning one, you know?”

Jaemin nods, finally calming the kitten, eyes on you. “Oh, that sucks. I couldn’t imagine life without my two babies at home.”

You look up, curious. “You have dogs?”

“Two cats.” He throws a peace sign, chuckling when you smile. “I’m from Busan, so I only get to see them on holidays. I thought coming here and helping out four days a week might help me miss them less.”

“And? Does it help?” You point to the kitten that has fallen asleep in his arms, head crocked to the side weirdly. Looking down, he laughs and sets her in his lap, using his knuckles to gently pet between her ears, one of his hands as big as her whole body.

“It does, actually.” He smiles absentmindedly, most likely reminiscing about his fur babies. “But only momentarily. When I’m back in my dorm room, I still feel their absence.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all you say, a deep pang of sadness hitting you out of nowhere. You guess this is how Chris and Jisung feel as well, both away from their respective dogs they’ve more or less grown up with.

Jaemin shakes his head, still smiling and not as sad as you’d thought he’d be. “None of that. I facetime my mom every night just to see them.”

“That’s cute.” A smile finds its way on your face as you imagine him using the same baby voice he uses with the animals here on the phone with his mom, cooing at his cats.

“You’re cute.”

An uncharacteristic silence falls upon you as Jaemin searches for your gaze, dying to understand your reaction. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just weird, making you feel like you were doing something wrong. Which made no sense. Jisung and Chan called you cute all the time; not out of nowhere, but when the moment was right. Heck, Seohyun would write entire pages praising your beauty whenever you posted on Instagram – you knew you were cute. But this was different, this was someone that meant it romantically, you could tell. He was flirting with you, shooting his shot and seeing where it landed.

That wasn’t something you could reciprocate, especially not now.

When he notices the look in your eyes, the storm brewing behind them, he adds. “I was talking about Belle over there.”

You look down at Belle, the fluffy bichon in your lap, who is currently sleeping soundly on her back, tummy up and randomly kicking her feet once in a while, dreamland surely rowdy.

“Shut up.” You laugh a moment later, appreciating how fast he took the hint and backed off, leaning over to softly push him on the doggy mats, to which he pretends to fall just for your amusement.

With that out of the way, things return to normal quickly and before you know it, the other volunteers arrive and you’re biding Jaemin goodbye and going on your merry way, back to your apartment.

It’s afternoon now, hopefully your friends are awake by now.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

They were in fact, not awake. Jisung just moved himself from the spare bedroom he shared with Chris for the night to the living room couch to sleep some more, without having to deal with the other’s snoring. Seohyun was buried in your blanket, hiding from the world, in the same position she was in when you left that morning.

Like it or not, it seems their bodies were incapable of pulling all-nighters after doing it for so many years without suffering the day after. Hopefully, you all manage to fix your sleep schedules before your classes start properly, not wanting to miss too many and be left behind, confused out of your minds and barely figuring it out by the time exam season rolls around.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

“I’m sleepy.” Seohyun complains, reaching up to rub her eyes before remembering the pretty eyeliner currently gracing her eyelids and stopping at the last second, groaning.

You giggle, full of energy from the coffee Chris made sure got into your system before your first class, swirling the ice in your cup absentmindedly, mind somewhere else.

Busy on his phone, he doesn’t even look up as he responds. “You barely made it to class this morning and you’re still complaining?”

Monday, 10:15 am. Your first class of the day officially ended fifteen minutes ago and as you’ve been doing for two years now, your friend group meet up at your favorite location, the diner closest to campus that has become some sort of sanctuary by now.

Seohyun was majoring in communication so she did not share your classes yet somehow, the four of you have started the new school year in the same way – with a boring, way too long 8 am lecture that almost erased your will to live.

She shoots him a dirty look he doesn’t notice, but otherwise doesn’t respond, too tired to bother with Chris and his top student agenda. Because being popular, good at sports and everyone’s friend wasn’t enough for him; your best friend was the academic weapon every freshman aspired to be, without trying too hard either. Hands down the most gifted and smartest person you know.

“You did go to bed super late last night.” You reach for her hand across the table, gently massaging her palm in hopes she’ll feel a bit better.

Just then, Jisung returns with your drinks, handing them out one by one like he was a barista himself. When he’s done and you all thank him, he takes his seat across from you and Chris, next to Seohyun. “What did I miss?”

“Seohyun was complaining.” Chris responds instantly, fingers typing away. What could be more interesting than spending time with your closest friends?

“Oh, so nothing new.”

At the same time, you softly smack the back of Chris’ head while she smacks Jisung, with a little more force, only the latter reacting loudly.

“Stop being mean.” You reprimand, and Chris puts his phone down with a sigh, leaning back in his chair to stretch his arms above his head.

“For your information, being late was not my fault.” Seohyun chimes in, finally in the mood to explain herself after taking several sips of her coffee. “This random guy ran straight into me, I was tackled to the ground!”

Concern flashes over your features. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, don’t worry. He helped me up and gathered all of my books while apologizing. Then I met up with Ji and he carried my bag to class.”

Both you and Chris shoot Jisung a curious look, not convinced he went through all of that trouble out of the kindness of his own heart.

“In my defense,” Jisung shrugs, his arm thrown over the booth behind Seohyun’s head, “I really did not want to come to class.”

Chris chuckles and sips from his strawberry milkshake while you shake your head, smiling and pinching the back of Jisung’s hand that was resting on the table, to which he retaliates by throwing the straw paper in your face.

“To be honest, I wasn’t paying attention either so he’s not entirely to blame here.” She continues like neither of you has said anything, resting her head in her palm with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Besides, he was fucking gorgeous. I swear I’ve never seen such a beautiful man before. And his freckles? Literal constellations right on his cheeks, oh my god.”

“Okay, Juliet, pipe down.” Jisung flicks her forehead and she swats his hand away, glaring.

Amused, you lean closer with interest. “Did you get his name?”

She shakes her head. “No” Then, her gaze moves to Chris. “That’s why, I need you to find him for me.”

Raising a brow, he reaches for your drink to have a taste before responding. “What am I, the local newspaper? You’re the one who bumped into him.”

“Yes, but you literally know everyone on campus.”

He makes a face, deeming your drink too bitter for his taste. “So do you.”

That was true. Seohyun was the definition of a social butterfly, mingling with all cliques and being liked by everyone she came into contact with. However, she was also very perceptive so if someone’s vibe seemed off, she could come across as cold and aloof, not giving them the time of day.

“Please?” She continues, resorting to the infamous puppy eyes. “This guy might be the love of my life, Chris, please help me.”

“What about Mark?” Jisung buts in, giving her a questioning look. Immediately, you and Chris signal for him to cut it out, abort the ship and never utter that name for as long as he draws breath.

Seohyun’s gaze drops to her cup, manicured finger moving back and forth on the edge, pretending she didn’t hear any of the words that have left Jisung’s mouth. To his credit, Jisung looks a little guilty, arm sliding over her shoulder and squeezing briefly in a silent apology, hoping it will be enough to fix things.

The probability of this mystery guy being the love of her life was low, but Chris seemed to feel bad enough to give in, exhaling deeply. Seohyun’s track record wasn’t great – for some reason, she always fell for emotionally unavailable guys, with her latest situationship ending not too long ago once she realized Mark did not want anything serious.

She didn’t deserve all that. Seohyun was the sweetest, kindest person you knew, with a heart of gold. If anyone deserved to find true love and grow old with rosy cheeks, still feeling butterflies at the mention of her beloved’s name no matter how many years passed, it was her. And you’d be damned if you didn’t try to make that happen.

“Let’s find this pretty boy of yours.” You smile as Chris nods, enjoying the way her face gradually lights up.

“Really?”

“I’d feel like I kicked a puppy while it was down if I didn’t, so what the hell. We’ve done crazier things anyways.” Chris adds and she squeals, getting out of the booth to come over and hug him, suddenly excited.

“Oh!” She rushes back to her seat, instantly rummaging through her bag. “This is his. I think it got mixed up with my books when I dropped them. He was in a hurry.”

The three of you huddle together as she places a small notebook on the table, curious about its contents that might reveal the identity of Seohyun’s prospective new…something. Let’s hope boyfriend, and nobody that treats her less than that.

Chris is the one who dares open it, flipping through the pages in wonder.

“These are…recipes?” He blinks, drawing a blank as the measurements for the perfect ‘gooey brownies’ stare him right in the face.

None of you says anything for a moment, the gears in your head turning and working simultaneously before Jisung breaks the silence with an unexpected outburst.

“Oh my god, he’s a fucking loser!”

Safe to say, he got smacked a couple more times before your next class of the day. Lovingly, of course.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

With everyone promising to ask around for Seohyun’s prince charming, you go on with your day until your last class, when you established to meet again for a little get together with all of your other friends.

The sun was starting to set, casting a warm, golden hue that extended throughout the whole campus, creating mesmerizing surroundings you could barely look away from. Thankfully by now, you’re outside, enjoying the warm breeze and nice weather that might not return any time soon as the days will only continue to get shorter and shorter as time passes.

You’re currently near the football field, cutting through near the bleachers to get to the other side where Chris and his swimming team are currently meeting. Seohyun is skipping a few feet in front of you, obviously in good spirits.

“Didn’t know Chris needed a chaperone.” She teases, turning to you with a smile as she starts walking backwards.

You chuckle. “Well, he is our ride.”

“We could have walked.” She stretches her arms as if to prove a point. “It’s such a beautiful day! It’s a shame we have to miss out on the rest of it, too.”

You were on your way to a bar, a new one that opened all the way in Hongdae. The owner has invited 3racha, Chris and Jisung’s music group personally, so it would be rude to not show up, even if you did share her sentiment. If it were up to you, you’d be in bed, snuggling already, but your friends have made it a point to keep you out of the house as much as possible.

“Just say thank you, Seohyun.”

“Thank you, Seohyun, for being the hottest girl around!”

You both laugh, enjoying each other’s company before she turns back around and resumes her skipping, long, bleached hair flowing freely behind her in the prettiest way. As you reach for your phone to record her for memories, a speck of red gets your attention in an instant.

You keep walking but your eyes are glued to the field now, to the eight or so guys dressed in the white and red uniform of your university’s American football team. Your heart rate picks up in an instant, scanning their jersey numbers in a hurry.

Relief floods your system when you don’t find what you’re looking for, slowing down. These guys looked young, most likely freshmen trying out for a spot in the most famous football team your university has had in years. You didn’t know how that worked, your memory failed you as you tried to remember when tryouts took place. It seemed a little too early for all that though, too soon to be looking for new people when the season kicked off somewhere in October, a good month and a half away. You couldn’t help but wonder why the hurry.

“Y/n! Watch out!”

Seohyun’s screaming startles you out of your thoughts, your eyes coming into focus to see a football flying right in your direction, quickly approaching your head. Before you know it, you’re ducking and running, feeling bad for snoozing and interfering with practice. Of course, this had to happen, you were cursed after all. You could never be near a sports field without something hitting you, no matter how small or insignificant the object, it always had to make contact with your face.

However, you don’t make it very far before you come to an abrupt stop as you collide with something or better said, someone, the impact causing you to stumble a few steps back until rough, gloved hands stabilize you by the shoulders.

When you regain your footing and finally look up at your saviour, your heart actually stops.

Because the one looking back, right through you is none other than Hyunjin. Your Hyunjin.

Or actually, he wasn’t yours anymore, now, was he?

Hyunjin who’s written his name across your heart in golden letters, that suddenly lit up at the mere sight of him. Your ex-boyfriend looked almost unrecognizable, his short black hair replaced by long, bleached locks that were pushed back, away from his face in a little ponytail.

You were a fool to think he wouldn’t be here. He was the captain after all and the coach was nowhere in sight.

The air wasn’t entering your lungs anymore, yet somehow you were still breathing, being kept afloat by his familiar hands on your skin, so overly conscious of his touch that you barely registered the shiver running down your spine.

After three months apart with no communication, Hyunjin was finally looking at you, forced to acknowledge your presence. It felt a little surreal, bumping into him so soon. Sure, you were expecting it, but not on your very first day back to campus, not when you still haven’t processed the fact that you weren’t together anymore. Everything in you longed for him and all his endearing quirks, even after all this time; even after he broke your heart.

You don’t dare look away, and neither does he, enthralled by those beautiful eyes of his that used to watch your every move with so much love and care. Now, you don’t see any of these emotions, but there is an intensity to his gaze that you can’t quite put your finger on. Time always seemed to come to a stop when you were with him and right now it was no different. All of your surroundings faded, leaving him the sole object of your attention.

There was a new piercing adorning his face, right under his bleached eyebrow. It looked good, like everything he deemed worthy enough to leave a mark on his body. But that wasn’t what got your heart beating again, pounding against your ribcage at an alarming pace he was sure to hear even from afar.

Without looking away, his hands slide down your arms slowly, and for a brief moment, you think they’re going to find solace in yours, just like they’ve done for all these years. By the surprise flickering in his eyes, you believe he thought of the same thing, catching himself at the last second and taking a step back, arms falling to his side heavily.

“Yo, what the fuck was that?” A new voice has you both snapping out of it, finally allowing you to look away and escape the staring war neither had the resources to win. It’s familiar, and as someone stops right by your side, seemingly out of nowhere, there’s no doubt in your mind about his identity.

“Y/n, are you okay?

You blink, and the magic from before finally dissipates completely, almost like the spell Hyunjin has got you under broke the moment he made himself busy by reaching for his helmet on the ground. When you manage to tear your eyes from him, Yeonjun, one of his friends and teammates, comes into view and places a hand on your shoulder in concern. The ball that almost collided with your head is under his other arm, and you notice that he’s not wearing his gloves as he should be.

Eventually, you nod, looking straight into his eyes while mustering your most convincing smile. “Yeah, don’t worry. Nothing even happened.”

“It almost did.” He states, glaring towards the group of men who seemed glued on the spot. “If it weren’t for Hyunjin, things might have ended badly.”

You look away, not knowing how to act around them anymore. Hyunjin doesn’t respond either, just moves out of the way as Seohyun sprints to your rescue, pulling your body into the tightest hug and putting some distance between you and the two men.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere, right?” She’s instantly checking you all over, dusting invisible dirt off your clothes before patting your head lovingly, just like a mother would do to comfort her sobbing child. Truthfully speaking, you weren’t far from turning into one, but the mortification of bursting into tears in front of all these people kept your emotions in check. You reckon a football to the face would have hurt less than having Hyunjin treat you like a stranger he’s meeting for the first time, barely reacting to your sudden appearance.

In hindsight, him reacting differently was almost impossible. Especially in the way you’d want him to react. Hyunjin had changed right before your very eyes in the last months before your relationship ended, burying his sweet and sensitive nature so deep down that you feared it might have gotten erased permanently.

Grasping her hands, you nod to calm her racing mind. “I’m fine, mom.” Then, you turn to Yeonjun again. “Sorry for interrupting practice like that. I should have been more careful.”

You hear Hyunjin scoff from somewhere behind you, still not brave enough to show his face, while Yeonjun shakes his head vehemently. “Nonsense. You did nothing wrong. Those guys though? They did plenty.”

He squeezes your shoulder reassuringly before excusing himself to join said guys, voice loud and annoyed. “Who were you passing that to? Are you fucking blind or just stupid?”

Yeonjun had no authority over them, not like Hyunjin did anyway. But he was still a seasoned player, one that’s been with the team for two years, so his words carried significant weight. He was a year older than all of you yet only decided to give football a chance in his second year, joining the team at the same time as Hyunjin. Their roles on the team were the opposite of each other – while Hyunjin was on the offensive, Yeonjun was a defensive player in charge of keeping the other team as far away as possible. Yet, they clicked and worked so well together that the probability of SNU losing a game with both of them present was close to none.

Bonding outside the field proved just as easy and before you knew it, Yeonjun became one of Hyunjin’s treasured friends, bringing their envied teamwork to more events than necessary.

For these guys to have a chance before the coach, they first needed to impress these two. And one thing about Hyunjin was that he was very hard to impress, especially in the areas he excelled in.

Your eyes naturally gravitate towards him along with your thoughts, his magnetic field still as strong as always. To your utter surprise, he moved to stand a little further away, facing his potential new teammates.

“Who threw that?”

The sound of his voice alone is enough to overwhelm you, suddenly way too emotional to keep still, to manage to keep your cool and act as nonchalant as he was. You haven’t heard that voice in so long, you’re sure you’d have collapsed if he as much as uttered your name.

Your name on his tongue has always been your favorite sound, no other word ever coming close to having that same effect.

Sheepishly, one of the guys steps forward while rubbing the back of their necks, visibly taken aback by the coldness in Hyunjin’s voice.

Hyunjin’s eyes narrow just as Seohyun links her arm through yours and tugs your body closer.

“Apologize.”

“Yes, captain!” He nods instantly, bowing repeatedly in Hyunjin’s direction to show exactly how sorry he feels for disappointing him. “I’m –“

“Not to me.” Hyunjin crosses his arms over wide chest, shoulder blade plates making him look even more intimidating as he stands to his full height, rolling his eyes. “To her.”

Your eyes widen as the guy looks up, searching for you with confusion visible even through his big helmet. Hesitantly, he changes targets, stopping before you and Seohyun.

“Hyunjin – “ You manage to squeak out, hating the way your voice almost gets caught in your throat, heat rushing to your face.

“Let him apologize.” His gaze travels to you leisurely, impatience clear in usual doe eyes.

But you aren’t far behind, a little annoyed by his insistence, managing to pull yourself together to counter. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“And last I checked, I didn’t ask for your opinion.” As quick-witted as always, Hyunjin isn’t even looking at you anymore, not bothering to react in any other way, like you weren’t even worth getting annoyed at. “He made a mistake that under normal circumstances, could have cost us the game. He needs to own up to it and apologize not only to you but to his teammates as well.”

Then, the guy seems to get smaller under his sharp gaze, instantly dropping into a deep bow and obeying Hyunjin’s words to a T. “I’m so sorry for throwing the ball in your direction!” In the next second, he’s spinning around and bowing to the other guys as Seohyun struggles to keep in her laughter at his next words. “I’m sorry for being an idiot!”

To his credit, Hyunjin hasn’t addressed him as such, always one to keep things professional. Yet, you notice the slight twitch of his mouth, obviously pleased and amused as Yeonjun bursts out laughing.

The guys bow in return, and suddenly they’re all shouting apologies at each other, owning up to all of the little mistakes they’ve made up until now that might’ve inconvenienced the other in some way, feeling bad for possibly giving anyone a hard time.

Not being able to hold it in anymore, your best friend almost collapses from laughter, needing to walk it off to calm down, only to start again as she locks eyes with Yeonjun a little farther away.

You’re so taken aback that you don’t even know how to react, watching the scene before you as flabbergasted as one could get. It was wholesome to see these kids already acting like a team but a part of you couldn’t help but feel bad once it remembered none might actually get to play and represent their university on the field. Hyunjin was trying to instil some discipline into them, but at what cost? What was the point?

Just as you’re contemplating everything that happened, the eight guys suddenly stop and turn to bow in Hyunjin’s direction as well, apologizing at the same time like it’s an activity they’ve rehearsed beforehand. It gets quiet as they wait for an answer, not even daring to raise their heads and see Hyunjin’s reaction, just patiently waiting for the go ahead so they can go back to practice.

Since when was Hyunjin running this team like the fucking marines?

Despite not looking at him, when Hyunjin nods they all stand to their full heights before him, awaiting further instructions. The mood shifts, all tense and serious like they weren’t sweet and wholesome just a moment ago.

“Since none of you seem able to handle one of these yet,” he barely finishes his sentence before Yeonjun passes him the ball, catching it with ease to hold up for the others to see. It all happened so quickly and naturally, that the others most likely didn’t notice, but you did. Hyunjin isn’t using his dominant hand. “you’ll be running laps until the coach gets here. Whoever is not up for it, drop your gears – you’re out.”

You’re expecting complaints and groans in protest but instead, they all nod and succumb to their miserable fates, doing exactly what Hyunjin has instructed. A little further away, you notice Yeonjun laughing without shame, having a blast at their expense.

“Asshole.” Seohyun murmurs, rolling her eyes, and you’re unsure who she’s talking about. “Let’s go. Any more time and Chris will send his speedo wearing army out in the wild to look for us.”

You want to laugh, to agree, and turn your back on this incident and leave without a word. But you can’t, feet lodged into place like you were standing on the biggest patch of mud around.

Hyunjin’s back was already to you, form cladded in that familiar uniform you’ve felt under your fingertips for years. The 20 under his surname written in capital letters on his jersey were almost mocking you, mad for holding their twin hostage in your mess of a closet. It doesn’t matter – in a month or so, they’ll be replaced in favour of a new design that comes around every new season. Just like your presence in his life will inevitably be filled by someone else; someone better, capable of loving him at his worst.

You had so much to say, so many words eager to escape and latch onto him, to get his attention and feed from it, growing bolder and more desperate with every second spent by his side. Hyunjin always brought the best out of you – until he broke things off. Then everything just came to a stop. Like someone lifted the stylus off of a vinyl before the song got the chance to come to an end, damaging the record and your ears in the process.

You loved music but suddenly, your life was quiet.

Hyunjin has been your muse for the entirety of your relationship, all of your songs based on him and the love that managed to blossom thanks to your shared effort. The butterflies and the fireworks all faded without a trace, making your music sound bland and meaningless, off-key since the one who inspired it was no longer there.

You wanted to call out his name, get him to stop and not leave you behind again but you didn’t know how, unable to without bursting into tears and breaking down for everyone to see. Hyunjin has been a part of your life for so many years, how were you ever supposed to start acting like he never was? Erasing him and the mark he left would surely be impossible without a potion of sorts, some Eternal Sunshine mechanism that will ensure your brain will be tricked into believing he was never here, to begin with.

Seohyun is off to the side, giving you the space needed to put your thoughts in order, for your next move. This was your chance, the moment you’ve been waiting for.

But you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t run after him no matter how loudly your heart was screaming in protest.

So, you turn around and latch onto your best friend as she begins pulling you along, quick to come to your rescue as always. Struggling to keep it together, with tears welling up in your eyes, you miss the way he turns to look in your direction one more time. One last time.

You’ve always believed Hyunjin was the love of your life, the one you’d grow old holding hands with.

Now, your perspective has changed, as did the main character role he has played in your story for the past five years. No longer was he the charming male lead, the prince coming in on a white horse to swoop you off your feet in a grand gesture of romance.

Hyunjin was the loss of your life. The one that managed to get away even with the tight grip you’ve tried to keep on his heart.

Hyunjin transformed into a background character that won’t be there for the ride, and won’t get to witness the new developments happening from now on in your life.

You would have rather been the one written off the story if it meant keeping him. Unfortunately, that was not a possibility since without you, there wouldn’t be a story to begin with.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

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starberry-cupcake · 2 days ago

Text

Welcome back!! I hope you're doing well and, if not, I hope my silly ramblings can make your day somewhat better, like the wildcats used to say: we're all in this together ♥

previously, in harrowcita del 9:

this happened

for those of you recently tuning in, this is the tag of all the ramblings

also, I'm officially in the sixth house now, palmolive can't stop me

CHAPTER 46

we're back inside the emperor's bolthole, which is infested

this is what happens when you have a lyctor orgy without the proper protection

gideon is doing her very best to fight the infestation of herald bees swarming and attacking her

she's in harrow's feeble small kitten baby body, so she's dying a lot

I'm gonna try to represent this visually

gideon keeps apologizing to harrow for getting her bits chewed off and her insides pouring out

and puts emphasis on things she wants harrow to remember

"I saw it eat your thumb—these details are important, so keep up with me—and your thumb was back in the next half minute"

"Child, that bee smashed you"

"I touched your intestines, which is usually what, fourth date"

me:

so, gideon takes off harrow's excess bones, which are no use to her, and goes further into the emperor's infested bolthole, where she finds mercygirl

mercygirl thinks gideon is harrow at first and, turns out, she was the one who stabbed her

these lyctors istg

can't trust any of them

mercygirl thinks harrow should be grateful that she stabbed her

and she was aware that harrow had "stuffed the soul of the cavalier in the back of her brain"

NOW WE'RE GONNA GET INTO SOME TERRITORY THAT MAKES ME GO ABSOLUTELY BERSERK, SO BEAR WITH ME

I NEED TO GET MY NOTES BACK FROM MY PREVIOUS RECAPS FOR THIS

she asks what happened with gideon's eyes and, as we have seen in the previous gideon-centric chapter, gideon's eyes are in harrow's face atm, if memory serves

"You're not her—she isn't driving you—but you have her eyes. Why? When they showed me your corpse I didn't think to check the eyes"

"I thought I knew what you were, though I didn't want to believe it..."

now listen, we're starting to tie some loose ends and some of those loose ends are linked very closely to my previous theories

I have been considering the Commander Wake is Gideon's Mom and Has a Personal Connection To Gideon The First and Is The One Connected With The Harrow Notes In Canaan AU for a while now

I need to link the specific recaps where I said this because I need to be transparent about where my brain was at

Evidence A, Evidence B, Evidence C, Evidence D

there's probably more but those are pretty clear

I swear to god if I was right about this I'm gonna screencap my own recap and put it here when the time comes

I've been marinating this one for months

I actually forgot how much of that I had written down in the recaps until I re-read them

mercygirl says that she thought the commander was a bad girl workaholic who put business before family, that she made her "the dolls" and she must have "played silly buggers with the emission" and that "gideon was on her tail"

"And then Gideon ruined everything. Then the commander ruined everything. Then you ruined everything. This could have been over eighteen years ago"

apparently gideon the first was "obsessed" with the commander, which accounts for some of the notes harrow read

I'LL GET BACK TO THAT WHEN WE GET TO THE SLEEPER, MY THEORIES CONTINUE

mercygirl starts calling gideon all sorts of names, including mutant, and keeps being bothered about her eyes

"Lipochrome. Recessive. You are the evidence. He lied to us...and you are all the proof I needed" "Cytherea would have known as soon as she looked at you"

is gideon the first gideon's dad??????? I mean, I always though he might have Something with the mom but my money was on gideon being made through science rather than Traditional Means

I mean, having lyctor genes in some way would account for gideon being a demigod, something I said with those words when I was reading gideon

also, remember when not!dulcinea told gideon she was prettier than the other gideon?? because I've never forgotten

mercygirl confirms that gideon the first was sent to kill gideon's mom

who, according to mercygirl, would have hated to be called a mom

mamá luchona intensifies

all of which aligns with my theory very nicely so far

she calls gideon more names, including "abomination, you heresy, you failed ambition nineteen years too late"

gideon reacts not wanting mercygirl to touch her instinctively

man, my theories are RIGHT THERE to be fully connected I'm BITING THE DESK

but there's no time for any more talk because mercygirl is trying to kill gideon in harrow's body

but she is stopped

she is shot

by not!dulcinea

but I don't think this is not!dulcinea, I previously mentioned her maybe being used by someone, not sure if it's possession or being used or what's going on but I don't think this is her

I thought about gideon the first being the one to do it but if he wanted harrow dead, I'm not sure he'd save gideon now

not!dulcinea says "with a tone that wasn't" hers: "goodbye"

gideon ends the chapter with "what the fuck is going on?"

CHAPTER 47

we're back at canaan au and it's time to perform an exorcism

harrow has a new note

I've been connecting those notes to gideon's mom possibly commander wake (as linked above)

the latest note continues to add to my theory

"end of the line. falling. oxygen can't last the distance and won't redirect power from the payload. instead I will make you watch every moment as I get the last privilege you cannot enjoy you bygone son of a bitch. I hope you're both as sorry as I am."

I still think this is gideon's mom because that's how she died, I mean, she got to the ninth in a suit without air and gideon still had some, allegedly

I've been thinking that one of the two people involved in the situationship triangle described in the notes was gideon the first, and that maybe the other was dr reverend emperor john

he's the most likely to be a bygone son of a bitch, so maybe I'm right

so, if harrow connects the notes with the spirit that's haunting her

and I'm connecting them to gideon's mom....

what if it's her that's haunting harrow?????

I mean, Waker

I NEED TO STOP GETTING INTO THEORY TANGENTS

anyway, all of the ghoulie ghostie friends are getting together for a sleepover exorcism

I didn't use this when I should have, back when the different aus were going by, but here it is

real!dulcinea says "Pal always said I'd be the death of him. And I was..."

he died being a weenie but he's not all the way dead, so it's fine

harrow questions why everyone wants to help her but everyone's totally fine with all this, for different reasons

real!dulcinea is "horny for revenge" (that's a tshirt for the seventh girlies right there)

protozoa is there because duty is his full personality

abby is really grateful to be asked to help (she also really likes tombs, very lara croft of her)

magnus loves his wife

ortus wants a redemption arc and now has a polycule

martita is behaving better than judith

abby asks harrow if there's anything she can remember from the slasher waker sleeper to try to pinpoint who tf it is

there's a suit, blood, a gun and gideon's sword, which is the only thing harrowcita recognizes and doesn't know where it comes from

my money is on gideon's mom, commander wake, probably also the woman in the shuttle poster that harrow saw but didn't recognize back when she met camilla

I'M PUTTING MORE CHIPS IN MY BETS EVEN IF I GET NO MORE INFO RN

harrow is very interested in how abby and magnus make it work as a married couple who are also a necro and a cav

I wonder why she's so interested

anyway, everything goes to shit on the exorcism

like, it goes really, really badly

group project off the rails bad

I mean, they didn't even have blood

apparently the spirit is also tethered to an object out there (the sword??????? possibly?????)

and she (she's a SHE) is pretty much invincible and shooting everyone and performing parkour while she's at it

harrow says camilla would be impressed, which is the highest praise

the sleeper waker slasher potentially gideon's mom (but not sure because it hasn't been confirmed yet) calls harrow by her name, but in a way that sounds like she's never said it before

she says it like a curse, which maybe means she knows, to some degree, how harrow was made????

she's basically doing whatever she wants over here, shooting ghosts, punching ghosts, throwing them around, regenerating, not bleeding, pulling guns out of thin air

I mean, ok, we got it, calm down lady

where was this energy when it was time to kill the emperor

she says there's "no magic" there and that "she's been doing this for years"

she wants harrow, so she can kill her and use her body to "finish it"

WHICH MAYBE MEANS KILLING THE EMPEROR???

OH MAN I DO WANT THAT TO HAPPEN

BUT NOT AT THE COST OF HARROW

also, mrs potentially gideon's mom, even if harrow dies, there's also gideon in the body right now so, it's a bit crowded atm

maybe find another way to kill the emperor

use not!dulcinea instead, if you can get the current tenant to leave

the chapter ends with: "ortus cleared his throat"

MAN, I HOPE HE DROPS SOME POETRY LINES, WE SURELY NEED THAT

and that's it for today!!!!!things are certainly heating up in the emperor's bolthole!!!! see you soon for the next installment, fingers crossed for my theories!!!

#luly reacts to tlt #tlt #tlt spoilers #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #long post

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saveyourblood · 3 days ago

Text

Pretty Boy - Ch 1 (Evan Buckley x Reader) (Eventual Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you're an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them. Originally posted to AO3

A/N: This is such a niche story and I am desperate for validation, please tell me if you enjoyed reading! Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Swearing (if that even counts).

You’re ending the first half of your 24-hour shift the same way you always do—dinner with the team. Well, at least that’s how you try to end the first half of your shift. Of course, that’s also assuming that both the fire and medical teams are actually at the station and not on a call.

All things considered, this probably only happens once a week, if that.

When it works out, though, it’s a good time. You already spend a lot of time in the rig with Hen and Chim, being an advanced paramedic and all. When it comes to the firefighters, though, you aren’t as well-versed, so it’s nice to have a weekly ‘getting to know you’ session. It seems like these days, it’s a 50/50 shot if they’ll make it to next month’s dinner.

The firefighting crew at the 118 is a revolving door of macho men. When you first started, it was Chim, Tommy, and Sal. Chim became a paramedic, so he didn’t exactly ‘leave.’ Sal got relieved of duty, so he didn’t really have a choice. Tommy left, but for something better. Maybe it isn’t so much the job that makes people leave; maybe being a firefighter at the 118 is a stepping stone for bigger and better things.

There is one firefighter that, if he left, you wouldn’t be heartbroken. In fact, it would probably make your shifts a whole lot better.

Evan Buckley, aka ‘Buck.’ God, even thinking his name makes you want to gag a little.

He’s a decent kid, but he’s just that: a kid. He’s a Probie; he’s only been on the job for about 4 months, and no one would assume otherwise. His heart is in the right place, but his brain hasn’t caught up yet. You’re starting to fear it never will.

“I know exactly what that polite, distant smile means: she’s bored,” Chim says as he leans over the counter, pulling you right out of your thoughts and back into reality. “This woman is so far out of my league, but she’s once-in-a-lifetime… I can’t let her go.”

“Lots of fish in the sea,” Bobby, your captain, chimes in. He leans over to pull something out of the oven.

“Not with the bait he’s using,” Hen remarks as she walks by. Her arms are full of dishes to set the table with.

“Amen, sister,” you agree, hot on her heels. She gives you a small smile and hands you the plates, which you accept with a smile of your own.

“Cruel, but true,” Chim sighs. “I met her on this new dating site, just for cops and firefighters, RomancingTheUniform.com. She’s an adrenaline junkie, so foreplay is me telling her stories about running into burning buildings and jumping into icy lakes and…”

“I’m sorry, wait,” Hen interrupts, “remind me: when was the last time you ran into or jumped over anything?”

“...I embellish a little.”

“Oh, noted.”

“So is she a cop or a firefighter?” You ask.

Chim gives you a look. “Why would she be?”

“Well, you said the website is for cops and firefighters,” you repeat. “Doesn’t that make her a cop or a firefighter?”

“Okay, it’s not just cops and firefighters,” Chim cedes, “it’s also for people that want to date cops and firefighters.”

“Ohhh,” you smile, “so cops, firefighters, and badge bunnies. What could possibly go wrong?”

“I’m telling you, the uniform is a major aphrodisiac,” Chim continues as he brings a salad to the table.

“Yeah, hence the term ‘badge bunny,’” you remark.

The conversation is interrupted by one of the engines backing into the station. You probably should have noticed it was gone, but frankly, as long as your rig is in the bay safe and sound, you don’t care what the meatheads are up to.

Speaking of meatheads…

“Oh good, PB is back,” you remark sarcastically.

‘PB’, aka ‘pretty boy,’ aka Buck. You started calling him Pretty Boy his first day, and over the months, you shortened it. He jogs his way up the stairs and dips a finger in the communal spaghetti bowl. You roll your eyes and take a sip of your coffee.

“Wash your hands!” Hen scolds as she pulls the bowl out of his reach.

“What if there’d been a call?” Bobby asks as he brings the last dishes to the table.

“I was in the neighborhood!” Buck defends himself. He takes one of the plates from Bobby’s grasp, but instead of passing it around like a normal person, he starts eating the food off the plate with his dirty hands. Sometimes, you wondered if he was raised by a pack of stray dogs.

Bobby starts lecturing Buck, and you smirk with a little satisfaction. Bobby’s going to write him up, and truthfully? It’s a long time coming.

“First infraction, two more, and you’re out,” Bobby says as he steals back the plate. “Wash your hands.”

“You know, you're not helping him by going easy on him,” Chim says once Buck is out of earshot.

“He just needs a little direction,” Bobby replies.

“I’ll remind you of that when he gets us killed,” you mumble.

The alarm bells start to sound through the station. Everyone groans, including yourself. So much for dinner.

Chim decided to catch a ride with the boys in the truck, so that leaves you and Hen in the rig.

“I’m sorry, dispatch,” you say into the radio, “118 RA responding: did you say the baby is in the wall?”

“10-4, 118,” the dispatcher responds. “Caller reports hearing a baby crying in his walls.”

“Copy that, 118 RA clear,” you say before hanging the radio back up. “Well, this will be fun.”

“You think you can play nice with Buck?” Hen asks, a smirk on her face.

“Hey, I’m always nice,” you reply.

“Not to him!” She laughs. “Don’t think I didn’t see you roll your eyes the second he got back to the station.”

“I can play nice and still think he’s a raging idiot,” you defend. “Besides, since when are you his biggest fan?”

“Trust me, I’m not,” Hen chuckles. “And I love you, but you don’t know how to play nice.”

“Why be the bigger person when you can be the bigger problem?”

That remark gets a full belly laugh out of Hen. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

Hen parks the rig behind the engine in front. The boys come pouring out immediately, grabbing various tools and equipment. You make your way to the back of the ambulance, tossing Hen her med bag before picking up your own.

You follow the rest of the crew upstairs, and before you know it, the five of you are standing in some random guy’s apartment, listening for something that probably isn’t real.

“Look, I'm telling you, I heard a baby crying,” the man says. “Someone flushed a baby down the toilet.”

Hen picks up a bong off the counter and gives the man a look.

“I’m not high.”

You both raise your eyebrows.

“Okay, I’m pretty high, but it’s Sativa,” he says. “It makes you happy. It doesn’t make you hallucinate.”

“It could’ve been a rat,” Chim shrugs. “Sometimes rats get stuck in the walls.”

You frown. At the end of his sentence, you swore you heard a cooing sound.

“Shh,” you say to everyone, walking over to the bathroom. “Did you guys hear that?”

They're hot on your heels, watching as you take your stethoscope from around your neck and put it into your ears. You place the bell on the wall and wait. When you hear nothing, you begin rapping your knuckles on the tile until you do. Once again, it’s a faint cooing sound, not unlike a baby.

You then knock your knuckles on the wall until you hear a hollow sound. You take a marker from your pants pocket and mark an ‘x’ over it, knowing the space behind it is hollow. You take the stethoscope out from your ears.

“We need to open up this wall,” you say, pointing to the ‘x.’

“No, we’re being punked,” Chim disagrees. “It’s a tape recorder or something.”

“Maybe not,” Hen says, stepping forward. “Maybe a mother gives birth on the toilet and flushes it.”

“Okay, first of all, that's awful,” Chim says. “Second, do you know how pipes work?”

“If the baby is premature, its bones can bend and compress like sponges,” Bobby mentions. “We need to get in there.”

“Stand back, I got this!” Buck says, swinging his fire axe over his shoulder.

He runs up towards the wall with full intentions of swinging. Hen and Chim move out of the way and shout while Bobby tries to grab him. Ultimately, you’re the one to stop him, and you do it by placing both hands on the axe.

“Hey! Did you even stop to consider that you might hit a baby?!” You shout, adrenaline pumping through your bloodstream.

Buck just stares at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” you spat, pushing the axe out of the way.

“Buck, go get the saw,” Bobby directs.

“Try to find some common sense while you’re down there,” you call after Buck as he walks out.

“Nice catch,” Bobby says, looking at you.

“How nice of me to save the baby from one of the LAFD’s finest first responders,” you reply bitterly.

You can’t help but look at Hen, who quickly looks away. Her avoidance gives you a small sense of victory because this? This shit right here? This is why you can’t play nice with Buck. His head is screwed on backward, and it can get people killed. Playing nice isn’t going to fix that.

Thankfully, Bobby takes the saw from Buck once he brings it up. He makes a few small cuts in the wall before he and the other boys are pulling at the drywall. They quickly expose a massive pipe running behind the toilet.

“That thing is huge,” you remark to Hen.

“It probably connects a bunch of the toilets in the units above this one,” Hen returned.

“So… even with the water turned off…” you start, a sense of dread filling your stomach.

“If someone above us flushes the toilet, it could drown the baby,” Hen finishes. Almost before she finishes the sentence, she’s running into the hall, yelling for people not to flush their toilets. The boys make a few cuts into the pipe, and in no time, they’re taking it to the floor.

“Guys, I can see the head,” you say, joining them on the floor.

They make a few more cuts until the pipe is one straight segment.

“Get the head out,” Chim instructs.

“Yeah, you gotta push from below,” Buck chimes in.

You try that, but the baby isn’t moving. You look to the corner, then at Buck.

“Bring me the defibrillator,” you instruct clearly.

Buck scrambles over, picking up the case.

“Just the lube, Buck,” you rephrase, but he’s already coming back with the whole thing.

“Take it, take it,” Buck says, passing it off to you.

You let out a frustrated sigh before grabbing the lube out and tossing the rest of it to the side. You pour some lube on the baby’s head, then down by its feet.

“Work that in,” you tell Chim.

You move your index finger around the circumference of the pipe, brushing the baby’s legs with lubricant as you do so. Then, you gently apply pressure to its feet, and slowly, you can feel it move forward.

“This is gonna be a scoop and run,” you mumble.

“Hen, get the ambulance ready,” Bobby tells her. You’re not sure when she got back, but when you look up again, she’s gone again.

Slowly, the baby’s head emerges from the pipe, and the rest of her body follows.

“She’s not breathing,” you quickly note, “starting CPR.”

You place your index and middle finger in the center of the baby’s chest and press down fast and hard. “Looks like her airway’s obstructed.”

“Buck, get the bulb syringe,” Chim demands. A few seconds pass. “Buck, come on!”

“I’m coming!” Buck barks back, clearly in a panic.

“Come on, pretty girl,” you say quietly as you continue compressions. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Buck returns with the bulb syringe and uses it, but it doesn’t help.

“Dammit,” you curse. “You’ll have to try a blind finger sweep.”

Buck looks at you, then Chimney, then the baby, then back at you. “Me?”

“You gotta learn somehow,” you remark. “It’s easy: just turn her head to the side, curl your pinkie, and see if you can scoop anything out.”

Buck is hesitant initially, but he eventually does as you tell him. It takes a few seconds, but he manages to clear the obstruction, and the baby begins crying. Everyone laughs with relief.

“Let’s get her wrapped up,” you say, reaching for a towel.

The four of you rush down the hall, you with the baby in your arms. The pit in your stomach returns.

“No one held the elevator?!” you yell.

“Dammit,” Chim curses.

“Give her to me,” Buck says, nodding to the stairs.

You stare at him.

“Come on, I’m twice as fast,” Buck pleads.

“Screw this up, and I’ll kill you,” you threaten before carefully handing her over.

Buck takes off down the stairs, but you follow after. There’s only so much that can happen in a few flights of stairs, but you aren’t willing to risk it.

“I got you,” Buck says to the baby, “you’ll be okay.”

A faint smile crosses your face. Maybe Buck isn’t so terrible after all.

“Come on, move it!” Buck shouts as you both make it out of the lobby and out to the rig.

You climb into the ambulance with him, but before either of you can even sit down, you hear someone yelling to wait. It’s not just anyone: it’s LAPD Sergeant Grant, or as you’ve heard Hen calls her, Athena.

“Wait, is that the mother?” Buck says, looking at the young woman with blood-stained pants in someone’s arms. “Yo, screw her! Look what she did!”

Never mind. Buck is still terrible.

“Sit down and shut up!” You yell at Buck. “This is not your call! She is a child, and she’s bleeding out!”

“Look what she did!” Buck repeated.

“Come on, let’s get her up here,” you say to Athena and the man carrying the young girl, disregarding Buck’s protests.

Bobby and Chim made it down, so they help haul the young girl up into the rig. Chim stays at the head while Bobby sits next to Buck, the spot you were about to sit in mere moments ago.

“If this baby dies, it’s on you,” Buck says, staring at Athena.

“Stop talking, Evan,” you snap as someone closes the ambulance doors.

Using his actual name seems to shut him up.

“What’s your name, honey?” You ask the baby’s mother as you cut away her shirt to place EKG leads.

“Marika,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know you’re scared, Marika, but you just have to keep breathing for me, okay?” you say. “My friend Howie is going to start an IV so we can give you fluids and medication. You’re bleeding a lot, so I have to do what’s called a fundal exam, okay? I have to press on your stomach to make sure your uterus is contracting back down normally.”

She stares at you, eyes filled with tears, before eventually nodding.

Using one hand to stabilize over the pubis, you begin pressing down the other into Marika’s stomach, a few fingerbreadths below her belly button. She lets out a few whimpers. You don’t feel the fundus, or the top of the uterus, like you should.

“Marika, you’re bleeding a lot because your uterus isn’t contracting. I have to make it contract by doing a fundal massage. It won’t feel that good, but it could save your life.”

Once again, Marika looks at you before nodding. This time, she closes her eyes.

Using firm and consistent pressure, you push one hand down where the fundus should be and make small circles. Marika lets out a few more cries of pain. You notice that, after a few minutes, the bleeding starts to slow, and her uterus firms up beneath your hands.

“Hospital ETA 5 minutes, hang in,” Hen chimes in from the ambulance's cab.

“Something’s wrong,” Buck says, staring at the baby in his arms.

You quickly move over to him. “Put her in your lap so I can see.”

Buck listens, moving away the towel so you can look at the baby. She’s cyanosed around the lips. You flip open a compartment and pull out the neonatal ambu bag. You hand it to Bobby, and you don’t even have to tell him to start bagging.

“I’m so sorry,” Marika says. “Is she gonna be okay?”

Bobby squeezes the bag every other second, delivering a breath to the baby. Her color is starting to look better, but she isn’t very responsive.

“Here, let me try something,” you say.

You gently pick up the baby and set it on Marika’s bare chest. After a few moments, the baby begins to move and cry out.

“Oh my god, why did that work?” Marika asks, wrapping her hands around her baby.

“Skin-to-skin can help babies regulate bodily functions, like temperature and breathing,” you reply as you place a towel over them.

You look over to the men sitting next to you. Bobby gives you a nod, and Buck avoids eye contact, but you can tell that he’s pissed. Fuck him, he doesn’t know his head from his ass anyways.

Once the rig pulls into the ambulance bay, you and Chim help the ER staff get the gurney out of the ambulance. Bobby and Buck follow suit, only Buck tries to follow them into the hospital. Bobby stops him before he does.

Bobby gives Buck some lecture about how we did our jobs, and now it’s their turn; it’s the speech every overly excited first responder gets at least once at the start of their career.

A cop car pulls up, and Athena comes out. She clearly found the person she was looking for, because she starts yelling at Buck.

“You do not get to choose who lives and who dies,” she lectures.

“Really? Because I was under the impression that kind of was my job,” Buck retorts.

You could seriously slap him.

“That mother was no less of a child than her baby,” Athena continues yelling, pointing a finger at the hospital. “You’re gonna get someone killed.”

“Well, maybe, but not today,” Buck says with a cocky head tilt.

You laugh humorlessly. “You know what, Pretty Boy?” you say, turning to Buck.

Fuck it. Bobby won’t put him in his place, and Athena isn’t allowed to, so you take matters into your own hands, literally.

Before you even fully comprehend what you’re doing, you’re wrapping a hand around Buck’s throat and pushing him against the ambulance. You aren’t choking him, but you don’t move your hand because keeping it there is your only leverage.

“I’m getting real tired of this tough guy bullshit,” you growl, your face only an inch from his. He’s quite a bit taller than you, but when you bounced him off the rig, his footing faltered, so he’s crouched at your eye level. “You wanna get real, Evan? You didn’t do a goddamn thing today except get in the way. While we were busy saving lives, you were shitting your pants and dropping the ball, not exactly what a tough guy is supposed to do.”

“Okay, enough,” Bobby says, trying to break it up. You’re far from finished, though.

You move your hand from his neck, but only so you can point it in his face. “You aren’t a god — you don’t decide who lives! You didn’t even save a life today: we did, because you kept fucking up. And if you keep fucking up like you did today, you definitely will kill someone, and your little jokes and midday booty calls and your shitty little grin won’t change that!”

Bobby ends up physically pulling you away while Athena makes some room between the two of you.

“Aren’t you going to arrest her or something?” Buck says, rubbing his neck. “She assaulted me!”

“She didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Athena counters. “I promise you, Buckley, the next time you screw up? It’ll be your last.”

Athena casts Bobby a glance before she walks away.

“You,” Bobby says, looking at Buck, “in the truck. Now.”

You start to walk over to the passenger’s side of the cab when Bobby calls after you.

“I want you in my office the second we get back,” He orders.

You clench your jaw. “Yes Captain.”

#911 abc #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #911 show #911 on abc #911 reader insert #evan buckley/reader #eddie diaz x reader #no use of y/n #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to soulmates

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oumaheroes · 9 hours ago

Note

Talk dover to me <3

'How hot is it?'

'It's hot.'

'Is it hot enough for me.'

'Francis, get the fuck in.' Arthur sat up and back further in the tub to make room, 'Stop looking at me like that; get in and shut the bloody door. You're letting all the heat out.'

'Oh, I thought it was hot enough.'

Arthur raised his eyes to the heavens and sank back lower into the water.

Francis shut the door and turned back to glare at him, 'You're taking up all the room.'

'You took too long.'

'Move.'

'I will when you get in.'

'You're insufferable. This is supposed to be relaxing. I'm supposed to enjoy this.' In a swift movement, Francis shucked off his (overly) fluffy bathroom, ‘Get out of the way.’

‘I will when you get in.’

Francis stepped one foot fully into the water with a wince and Arthur grinned, ‘Too hot?’

‘Arthur, I swear to God I will sit on your legs.’

‘I took the tap side for you.’

‘I appreciate the weaponry to hand. Move.’

Before Arthur could retort, Francis stepped fully into the tub and Arthur had to swiftly moved his legs out of the way to avoid tendon damage.

‘Look, you’ve flooded us.’ Arthur said, eyeing up the overflow along the tub’s rim from the wave made by Francis’ entrance. ‘That better not go through the carpet to the floorboards, we can’t afford to redo them after the kitchen.’

‘I’m surprised you have enough heart and feeling in your stingy heart to allow us to have this much water.’ Francis sank as deep as he could go, knees sharp mountains in the water, and closed his eyes, ‘Ugh, it’s been too long since I’ve had a bath. I needed this.’

‘Hmm.’ Arthur pulled one of Francis’ feel forwards to massage his calf, firm circles with his thumbs, ‘It’s rarely cold enough to be worth it.’

‘That’s a terrible opinion.’ Francis cracked open an eye, looking just behind Arthur and to the right, ‘As is the need to have the window open.’

‘I like the contrast.’

Francis shook his heard and closed his eyes again, ‘I think I’m going to quit.’

‘Finally.’

‘Yes, well. I had hopes. Growth upwards, more than anything currently improving.’

‘Move on to another station?’

Francis shrugged, ‘The chance for more responsibility. Menu choices, ideally.’

Arthur snorted and moved onto Francis’ other leg, ‘As if David would ever let you do that.’

‘He does for Nikhil.’

‘Nikhil is an arselick.’

‘Nikhil is also the level above. But even then, to just move off vegetables and fish. I hate fish, or I hate cooking fish. The smell gets everywhere.’

‘I don’t mind you smelling like a whore.’

Francis hit him with a sudden splash of water, Arthur catching the grin of his teeth right before he closed his eyes.

‘Stop it. Let me moan; don’t make me laugh.’

‘I would do no such thing willingly.’ Arthur lay back as much as he could with the awkward and hard metal of the tap, lolling his head against the wall with his arm slung over the ceramic to keep him from sliding. ‘Your unhappiness is my entire aim.’

Francis snorted and cupped water in his hands to tip onto the crown of his head, fingers raking through the strands.

‘Are you actually?’ Arthur asked after a moment, his hand going back to the meat of Francis’ calf, then the cool skin of his knee, ‘Going to quit; go somewhere else.’

Francis shrugged. ‘No. Yes. Inside, mentally, I quit ages ago. But today was just...’ he waved a hand lazily, ‘I don’t know how much longer. Not because it’s hard or bad but, what’s the point. Of being stuck somewhere that won’t change, clinging to something that left a long time ago.’

‘True, I-‘

‘Like you with me.’

Arthur froze, a coldness blooming in his stomach to spread like ice through his veins. He pulled his hand away and Francis eyed him, eyes flicking up and down.

‘How many years has it been?’ He asked, ‘Five? Six?’

Arthur tried to speak but managed only a croak. Swallowed, tried again, ‘Seven.’

‘Ah yes, seven.’ Francis looked around the bathroom, at the cracks that Arthur now remembered as being on the ceiling, the damp mildew stains along the tiles to pillow black in the grouting that hadn’t been there a second ago. ‘Too long, my love.’

Arthur couldn’t speak. He reach forwards, through still, tepid water to where Francis still lay bright and whole against clean ceramic and the vibrant colours of years before. His hands met nothing but the smooth other side.

Francis watched him, silent. There was something of pity in his expression, almost readable as contempt. ‘Arthur.’

‘No.’

‘You have to let me go, Arthur.’

‘Francis.’ Arthur pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, keeping the sound of Francis’ voice safe and away from the reality that his eyes could now see, ‘Please.’

‘It’s funny that this is where you see me.’ A soft splash, the gentlest movement of water, ‘Is this the only place that you have left? The last place you can call me back?’

It was. There had been others, especially right at the start. Francis in the kitchen, Francis in bed. Francis draped across the lounge sofa, hair in Arthur’s fingers, his warmth against his side. But the rooms were too large and the truth too heavy, too much to filter with so much space to repaint. As the years fell away, it became harder through the years to recall Francis there for more than a flash, and Arthur always needed more.

The bathroom, small and cramped in their little old flat, was still enough. Arthur could pull their relationship out there and unfurl it like a canvas, run through imaginary tapes of old conversations and quiet little moments to fill the space and coat it completely.

It still felt so real.

‘Your brothers are worried about you.’ Another splash, coming closer, ‘You look at least ten years older than you should.’

‘Stop. Please, don’t.’

‘Keeping me here is taking too much.’ Another splash. Arthur heard something lift out of the water, heard the plink plink plink of droplets falling from something tangible there with him. ‘How much life do you have left to waste on trying to get back the one that you lost?’

Arthur felt Francis’ hand on his cheek, his fingers cold and hard as bone. Arthur’s breath caught and he squeezed his eyes so tightly that he could hear a roaring of blood in his ears.

‘Are you waiting for me to say that I forgive you? Do you keep bringing me back here, dragging me up, because you hope that maybe I’ll say you’re not to blame? And, since I won’t, you instead play happier memories again and again and again-’ Francis squeezed hard, fingers digging in sharp to Arthur’s skin, ‘to avoid that day?’

Arthur tried to shake his head but couldn't, found his whole body was rigid and stuck. He tried to jerk away, kick his legs at the thing holding him there but his legs couldn’t move. The tap pressed sharply into his back, limescale cutting his skin.

‘Oh.’ The thing that still sounded like Francis tutted, ‘If only you hadn’t been drinking.’

A crash, a car. Night time, Coldplay’s Yellow lifting into the darkness as behind him on the verge... Whiskey on Arthur’s breath, he’d been at the limit but still-

The grip tightened, harder against Arthur’s teeth to force the bitter reality past the lie and into his mouth. ‘Didn’t you have just. One. More.’

Finally, Arthur opened his eyes.

It does not take long for flesh to decompose. Especially in the summer, especially when it was already so ruined, so open.

Nothing hung from Francis’ bones, nothing was left of his softness. His beauty vanished when his soul did, leaving only the shell of a thing that sits before Arthur in chilling water: empty darkness between ribs and cheekbones, picked clean by the creatures of the earth that he was returned to.

‘I’m sorry.’ Arthur whispered to it through its fingers, ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

‘I know.’ Francis’ voice is still in his head; the fused jaw did not move, ‘But that doesn't change anything, does it?’

-----------------

AN:

... I... This just happened and did not go quite according to the plan that I had in mind but we're rolling with it

#fruk #aph england #aph france #hws #hws england #hws france #hws fruk #aph fruk #arthur kirkland #francis bonnefoy #aph #heroes writes #heroes answers #APH Dover #HWS Dover

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greenduvet · 2 days ago

Text

flowers she gave him pt. 1

A/N: Hi loves!! So excited to finally share this story that has been brewing in my head for what feels like forever. I haven’t posted any of my writing publicly for years! So this is a big step for me, and I just couldn’t keep these thoughts to myself any longer. I want to say the biggest thank you to @luiscarrutherss and @galarian-weezing-on-prep for not only reading the early draft but making me feel excited to write and share my story. Also my girlfriend for helping me edit and watching succession. This will be a friends to lovers slow burn, so if that’s your jam like mine stick around! Anyways, enjoy mwah!

The floor was silent. Most people had gone home hours ago, the lights off in most offices. It was always so odd this time of night — looking out over all the different worlds happening just below, life continued on so vividly yet it felt so stiff and halted here.

It wasn’t the plan to have been here this late. Really he should have picked you up hours ago, the dinner reservation that had been made earlier this week now way past check in.

The reservation was Roman’s idea. Maybe a poor attempt at an apology, the only way a Roy knew how to apologize — dance around it yet never letting it fully resolve. You were used to it by now, a lifetime of Roman had made you well familiar. Yet this time felt different. Roman for once in his life was being distant, independent. He would blame it on work, family, stress, but you knew him better than that.

Tearing your eyes from the window, you look at your phone. Still nothing from Roman, not even a heads up that he would be an hour late to the aforementioned reservation. The thought of sending another ignored text filled you with a sense of irritation. Why wait here when you could see him face to face?

Without a second thought you haphazardly throw your things into your bag, muttering softly to yourself. The lights of your borderline clinical office flick off as you shut the door.

The way to Romans office was nearly tattooed in your brain from years of walking back and forth. Though your office was just down the hall, tonight it felt like a dreadful journey into unfamiliar territory. This wasn't how the night was supposed to go.

Turning the corner you could see him through the thick glass walls. He was staring at his computer, full attention to whatever was on the screen. You swear you had never seen him work so hard in his life… or at least pretend to work this hard. With a soft sigh, you walk into the office and stop in front of his desk, his eyes not once glancing from the screen.

“Late night?” The tone of your voice is dry, maybe a bit sarcastic. You weren’t used to this Roman, the detached, focused type. He had always been clingy, willing to throw his work down as soon as you had walked in.

Even standing directly in front of him, his eyes still never move from the screen. Moving his free hand from the desk to run through his already tousled hair, he hums softly, not bothering to give a full response.

Another sigh leaves your mouth and you turn to take a seat on the piece of foam covered in velvet they called a couch, there more for decor than actual comfort.

~~~

While your back is turned, Roman’s eyes glance quickly to you. The perfect image of a long day, he watched as you slowly dropped your bag without a thought. The whole day he had fought the urge to text you and watched the minutes tick past the planned reservation. He didn’t understand why he was doing this, pushing you away and trying to hurt you. Yet he felt like he was the only one hurting here.

As quick as his eyes lingered on you they were back on the screen, looking at the same report sheet he had been rereading for over an hour now. The sight of you settling on the couch out of the corner of his eye made his brows furrow softly. Why was he doing this again?

“Uh, ya know, Dad had me do some stuff.” He mumbles softly in response, his voice high in octave and almost tense. God, he didn’t even believe himself. He rips the hand in his hair down and begins to rapidly type something on the computer, trying his best to sell his stupid ‘busy’ act. You weren’t buying it, but it was unspoken that you and Roman never really did feelings — maybe that's why you were still so close.

~~~

Sighing, you pull your phone out and slip off the uncomfortable shoes you were wearing. It seems like Roman won’t be finished anytime soon, so neither will you.

The two of you work in a tense but comfortable silence, you clearing old emails and roman rapidly slamming keys. It was routine, though it didn’t keep you from noticing that what was once so familiar was now slowly changing. The silence still comfortable, yet more deafening than before.

“We had a reservation for tonight, did you forget?” Your voice breaks the silence, addressing the elephant in the room. Panning your view to roman, you can tell the question makes him squirm. The vein on his forehead bulged, his eyes widening ever so slightly at the screen.

You wait to hear some poor excuse, something around how it wasn’t his fault or to fuck off… but it never comes. Roman just continues to slam on the keys, the discomfort only growing on his face.

Sitting up, you nearly roll your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time of the night. You didn’t have time to waste sitting twiddling your thumbs to expect a coherent response from Roman when he obviously wasn't interested in giving you one. Slipping on your tight shoes, you grab your bag and rise wordlessly.

You look at Roman, hoping for something. For him to look at you, acknowledge that you were here for him. His eyes remained glued to the screen, though it seems like there is a deeply rooted panic there. 5...10…30 seconds go by and he does nothing.

The voice in your head repeating a mantra of fuck this over and over finally wins, and you turn to the door to leave. Though it hurt, you were tired of this back and forth. That, and your bed sounded much more appealing than the stone couch.

~~~

The second you leave Romans office, his eyes tear from the screen to your disappearing figure. The feeling of panic that had been bubbling in his chest all week started to explode into a deeper fear — you were walking away. He knew he deserved it, but still — what the fuck? Part of him thinks to leave you be and ignore your texts again, but his heart is screaming at him to follow you, chase after you and stop pushing you away like he had been for weeks.

He rises from his desk, leaving his computer unlocked and hastily makes it over to where you’d gone off to.

~~~

It feels like the elevator is taking forever on purpose. Maybe to taunt you for waiting for Roman, or maybe because deep down you had hoped he would come after you. Still, you waited for the doors to open so you could forget about today and the weird feeling in your chest at your best friend ignoring you. Why did it feel like you might actually lose him this time? Roman had seen you through your worst, and you’d seen him through his. But this dynamic was new, and didn’t feel like something you could recover from.

Finally, the high pitched ding breaks you from your thoughts, the doors sliding open to the luxury elevator awaiting you. Stepping in, you scan your badge and wait to be taken to ground level once again. Wine sounded good tonight, lots of it.

The doors begin to close, but before they can shut a hand is shoved between them, forcing them to open. Roman. He was there, face slightly flushed. It was funny, because Roman had never been the one to chase after you originally.

~~~

The sun felt hot – almost scorching. It was the end of June and finally it was starting to feel like summer in the hamptons. The backyard seemed to stretch on forever and was decked in long tables covered in lavish meals. This was a yearly event Logan held for his “partners” and their families — It was for the people who knew where the bodies were hidden. The whole ‘get away’ was to keep them close.

Though the event was mostly filled with adults, a few children were scattered around. A boy almost in his older teens, one a few years younger doing his best to fit in with the adults. An even younger boy with messy hair and big eyes, a young girl with fiery red hair, and lastly another girl who didn’t really fit in with the others. Yet that didn’t stop her from trying.

“Roman! Look at this – it's a worm!” You held out the stick with a worm dangling from it, the soft blue dress hanging on your tiny frame most definitely ruined. The wide grin on your face only grew as Romans eyes widened in disgust as he turned in the opposite direction. You would only start to chase after him again in response, as you had all afternoon.

This was a game between just you and Roman — you bugged, poked, nagged, and in response he would run away, gag, and ignore. For some reason your tiny brain just never got the memo that he couldn’t stand you. Things were easier back then. Innocent.

The sound of a loud bell stops you in your steps, Roman halting ahead of you. Dinner time. Placing the worm gently back to the ground you follow the children you came to know as the Roys.

The feeling of eyes on you from your parents and other bodies burnt like fire on your skin as you approached the dinner table. You hadn’t meant to dirty the dress, but running through the vast yard with the people you called “friends” had made you forget — forget that this was a performance, and that you needed to set a good example so that your family could stand out. Your mother would have words to say about this later.

Each child slid into their assigned seat at their own table away from the adult conversations happening at the other, longer table. You couldn’t help but feel a little relieved — you didn’t fully understand that whole world yet at the ripe age of 5, but you knew enough to be bored. Shiv felt the same way you did, her face more relaxed now than it had been at the sound of the ringing bell.

Roman’s seat was the one next to yours, and it was made obvious by the soft groan that left his mouth when he saw the tag of his name next to yours. Dramatically, he pulled his chair from the table, each action over dramatized and nearly throwing his body into the seat. Though the sour look didn't last long on his face as his eyes panned over to you and your dirty blue dress.

“Mommy and Daddy won’t be very happy with that, now will they?” The sour look fades from his face, a devilish grin replacing it. His tone is teasing and rude. It wasn’t anything new with Roman, though. The only attention he spared to give you was the more unpleasant kind. But it didn’t stop your obsession with trying to break him down and play with you.

You return his comment with a pout and look away from him, your hands finding themselves busy undoing the neatly folded table napkin at your place setting. Gently your fingers pull it apart, corner by corner. Finally you place it gently on your lap, your head high as you reply. “It was an accident. Maybe if you played nice, I wouldn't be messy.”

Roman was almost surprised with the response he was met with, a little smirk filled his lips. He couldn’t help but feel put in his place. He nodded to himself, taking the napkin and ripping the cloth out of its fold. Vastly different from the way you had done it with so much meaning. Maybe you weren’t as annoying as Roman thought.

The dinner was pretty tame. The children made soft conversation about various topics — the summer vacations they had planned, the extracurriculars, the movies they wanted to see. While the adults stuck to business conversation, how it always was and would be. It felt nice though, for once being around other children who somewhat understood your lifestyle. That, and it was a lot better than the company of your au pair.

After dinner, you find yourself with Shiv in the garden playing a game of fairies while running around the well maintained garden of roses. The sound of your feet against the gravel and shared giggles is all that can be heard — a pure moment of childhood innocence. Your dress slowly changed into one more brown than blue, Shiv’s own dress dirtying as well. It didn’t matter though, because for once you were just girls playing.

Logan’s booming voice rips you and Shiv from the moment. You can’t make out anything he is saying, but the both of you know it can't be good. You look to Shiv but her eyes are already on your face, wide and crystal blue. Then you hear it clear as day, the only word that mattered. Roman.

Looking around, you find a flower from one of the many bushes and pluck it gently, making sure to not damage any petals. You didn’t know Roman well yet but you knew well enough that this was normal. The sound of Logan's booming voice most times directed at him, as he seemed to always be the easiest target. Though, there was something about this time that felt worse than the others.

Without a second thought you run off, away from Shiv and the flower garden, carefully cradling the small white flower in your palm. The soft sound of sniffling guiding where to go, eventually leading you to the side of the oversized house.

There he was — sitting on the floor, knees to his chest, and a hand holding his cheek in pain. The spitting image of a kicked puppy.

This was worse than the other times.

Wordlessly you sit next to Roman, eyes not daring to look at him, but glued to the wall with ivy overgrowing. Before Roman can protest or run away, you bring the small white flower into view. A smile fills your lips before placing the flower onto his knee with all the care in the world.

That was the moment everything changed.

~~~

The elevator doors open fully and Roman steps into it with you. Your name falls from his lips as his hands comb through his hair for the umpteenth time that night. “Look– Fuck. Let’s just grab dinner, okay? There’s gotta be someplace still open and half edible around the block.”

You can tell he is trying his best to contain his expression and stay in control of the moment, but he's failing. Miserably.

His hazel eyes watery and nearly pleading, begging you to look at him and forgive him for being a total ass.

Looking him up and down, you hesitate. Maybe to make him sweat or to make him feel how you did all day, you weren’t sure.

“Wherever we go, I want hashbrowns.” You tear your eyes away from roman and click the button that would take you to the lobby. Immediately there is air in the elevator again, Roman’s pleading eyes vanishing. He always seemed to get his way with you.

#roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #kieran culkin #Kieran culkin characters #succession #succession hbo #succession fanfiction

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tinfoil-jones · 1 day ago

Text

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 9

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.9

“Why don’t criminals trust stairs?”

“Stanley, I am trying to work.”

“Because they’re always up to something.”

*Ford covering his mouth with his hand because he’s trying really hard not to laugh*

“Why don’t criminals like elevators? Because they hate getting taken down.”

*Ford faceplanting on his desk and slamming his fist on it because he’s trying not to laugh*

“What do you call a criminal snob going downstairs? A condescending con descending.”

“E-enough! I’m going to put you on mute if you don’t stop.”

“Ah, come on man. It’s not like I got much else to do here. I can’t even write in that notebook you guys gave me anymore cause I got nothing to write with.”

“Maybe you would still have writing utensils if we didn't run out because you chewed up all of the other ones we gave you.”

“I can’t help it, PhD. I’m on day seven of nicotine withdrawal and it’s still kicking my ass. I get that this whole lab is a ‘no smoking’ zone, but I saw stretch using dip, and you didn’t say anything; just looked at him in a passive aggressive, judgemental way.”

“Tobacco is a nasty habit, and you are better off losing that vice while you’re still in a controlled environment. Our father never kicked it on his own, so this is really for your own-.”

“Yeah, yeah Doc. For my own good. I’ve heard it a million times. Do you like, keep score of how many times you say that, is someone keeping track of it? Or is that your only excuse for the insane crap you’re always pulling.”

“If it will placate you and keep you quiet, I’ll wheel over a television.”

“You have one of those down here?”

“I primarily use it as a device that decrypts thoughts, but its original function is still intact. Let me bring it over.”

“How uncharacteristically considerate of you.”

“You’re watching The Black and White Period Piece Old Lady Boring Movie Channel.”

“Wait a second, where's the remote?”

“There isn’t one.”

“Stay tuned for the six episode marathon of The Six Wives of Henry VIII, starring Keith Michell as Henry VIII, Annette Crosbie as Catherine of Aragon, Dorothy Tutin as Anne Boleyn-”

“Change the channel. PhD, I swear to God.”

“Anne Stallybrass as Jane Seymour, Elvi Hale as Anne of Cleves, Angela Pleasance as Catherine Howard, and Rosalie Crutchley as Catherine Parr.”

“No- NO!”

*Ford presses the mute button on the cell*

(...)

160 minutes later…

“Stanford, I brought those scrap m- what in Sam Hell?”

“I appreciate it, Fiddleford.”

“Is there a particular reason Stan is staring unblinking at that TV screen?”

“I put on a soap opera because I thought he would hate it. But he… really got into it.”

“Is that the same reason why his desk chair is smashed in the corner?”

“Yes, there was a plot twist he did not find agreeable. I tried to change the channel after one episode, but he gave me such a look that I truly believe if I did, he would find a way to break the forcefield just to strangle me.”

“That’s… Not what I expected from someone like him.”

“I’ve never seen him get this way. Not even during a baseball game or boxing match where he made the wrong bet.”

“It can’t rightly be that interesting.”

*Fiddleford pulls up a chair near the cell to watch the TV*

“You both do that. I still have important research to document.”

(...)

240 minutes later…

*all three of them are staring at the TV and don’t start blinking until the credits roll*

“I’ll tell you what, fellers, I can’t believe Gardiner got away with everything.”

“I know, right? Whatever Jesus approves of, I’m sure it’s not that.”

"We're Jewish, Stanley."

"Really? Well that explains why I distinctly remember the Aryan Brotherhood nearly beating me to death in prison."

"They what?!"

"Calm down PhD, I said nearly."

(...)

"Stanley, it has almost been ten days, it’s time to remove your stitches."

"Give me some nail clippers, I'll do it myself."

"Properly. Come on, don't be such a wuss about it."

“Can’t F do it instead?”

“No, he is in town on a supply run. Also, the only difference between you and I and under that shirt is the amount of rolls.”

“Ouch, low blow PhD. It’s not like you’re a runway model either. Fine, but any more cracks on my weight, and I’m going to remind you I’m a threat inside and outside of bars.”

"What are these, circles-? Wait, burns? ...Who did this to you?"

"... Don't worry about it."

"I am going to worry about it! Stanley, who did this?"

"It doesn't matter..."

"It does! Please, I'm your brother just-"

"Don't make me think about it, I don’t remember a lot but- I don't like remembering that."

"Oh Stanley." *hugs him even though it isn't returned* "I'm so sorry. Whatever happened, you didn't deserve that."

"You'd be surprised."

To be continued...

#for your own good #early amnesia au #mystery trio #fords evil basement sub-lab #he did it guys he said the title #ford isnt a mad scientist hes a sad scientist #Stan calling Ford anything but his name #gravity falls #cross posted on ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #stanley pines #stan pines #stanford pines #ford pines #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket #the six wives of henry viii

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brotherwtf · 3 days ago

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Having thoughts about age gap au Gale hiding an injury/illness from John because his dad always made him feel like a burden and that hurt was deserved 💔 and John losing his mind but trying not to show it as he takes care of Gale, or maybe he doesn't get to because Gale has to go to the hospital and John gets the call while he's at work </3 these boys can fit so much whump and trauma and comfort

ughhhh yes putting Gale into the whump blender again :(( I want to traumatize this boy forever that is my lot in life

----

Gale knew to never show weakness. It's what he was taught from an incredibly young age, weakness meant you could be picked from the crowd, weakness meant that you weren't good enough.

There was a lot of things Gale's father viewed as a weakness. Being sick, scraping your knees, getting hurt and you better not think about crying because at that point you'd be better off dead anyway. Gale learned to hide it whenever he got sick, to lick his wounds in solitude, and to never, ever, ask for help or pity.

So Gale didn't even flinch when he woke up with a 102 degree fever. He's lived through worse, no need to be a baby about it. He got ready for his classes like normal, kissed John goodbye, and waved off his looks of concern when John pressed his cheek to Gales forehead, fretted about him running hot. Gale was fine, he didn't need John's help.

He was able to get through his first class without many problems, he felt waves of nausea periodically and some bouts of lightheadedness, but Gale wasn't going to let that take him down. His second class was a little worse, his hands quivered when he tried to write and the nausea stayed, no longer ebbing in and out in waves.

Gale passes out around lunchtime, Marge by his side and all he can really hear is her anxious fretting, calls of his name and yelling at someone to phone the hospital. He remembers weakly trying to push her off, says he's fine, but Marge tells him to shut the fuck up, he's going to the damn hospital. He doesn't remember much after that.

He wakes up to the soft beeping of a heart monitor, the bright fluorescent lights of a hospital room and he groans. Gale shouldn't be here. He's taking up the space that someone else needs more, he doesn't deserve the time or energy that people are wasting on him. He doesn't get to dwell too much before John is quickly at his side, taking his hand and pushing his hair back. His lips press into a thin line, palm pressing against the sure heat that Gale gives off.

"Baby? Are you okay? God Marge told me you collapsed and I left work immediately. Fuck Gale you should have told me you weren't feeling good," John frets and Gale just shakes his head weakly.

"I'm fine, John. I'm good, you didn't need to leave work just for me. When are they gonna let me out?" Gale asks and his voice is hoarse.

John's brow furrows and his expression grows stern.

"Gale, no, you're not fine. You have a 103 degree fever and you're shaking like a damn leaf. I'm not gonna stay at work when I know you're sick," John says and Gale can feel another wave of nausea that isn't caused by the sickness.

Gale turns his head against the pillow, avoiding John's gaze and he can feel his eyes well up. No, no, he can't cry. Crying is the worst thing he could do right now. But the tears come anyway, streaming down his face steadily and John rushes down to wipe them away, fretting all over again.

"Hey, hey, baby, Gale, come on don't cry. It's okay, I'm not mad I swear. You should have just told me you weren't feeling well, I could have helped, then maybe you wouldn't have fainted," John says, a firm thumb brushing away the tears that stream down his face and Gale shakes his head.

"Don't... don't wanna be a burden," Gale manages to choke and John shushes him and forces Gale's head to turn towards him.

John's face is both soft and firm, his eyes filled with emotion that's both frustration and affection. Gale hates how worried he looks, just because Gale's a little bit sick.

"Gale, you will never be a burden to me. I promised your mama I would protect you, and I promised you the same. I love you, Gale, and if it takes me dropping everything for you to understand how much you mean to me, I'll do it in a heartbeat," John says, cupping Gale's face with both of his hands.

Gale squeezes his eyes shut because he knows if he looks at John anymore he'll just ugly sob, grabs John's wrist and nuzzles his soaked face into it, gasps and chokes as he continues to sob, John shushing him and bringing him in closer until their foreheads are pressed together, breathing heavily against his face.

"I swear, Gale, you are not a burden. You are my everything, doll, my everything," John whispers, and Gale can only nod, finally allowing himself to melt into the sheets, letting himself feel fatigued and exhausted and sick because John is letting him, allowing him to let go.

#clegan #mota #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #asks #age gap au

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lanawinterscigarettes · 3 days ago

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for kinktober: Eddie Munson giving oral to a transmasc reader?

ofc, thanks for the kinktober request <3 (I really hope he isn't out of character here)

Kinktober 2024 Day 18: Eddie Munson giving oral to a transmasc reader

Warnings: smut/nsfw content, cunnilingus/oral sex (reader receiving), slight hair pulling, Eddie's a massive tease, swearing

You were over at Eddie's trailer for what was supposed to be guitar lessons. You'd always wanted to learn, and luckily for you the town's resident bad boy not only owned a guitar himself but was also kind enough to offer to teach you how to play. That's what you'd initially planned on doing, anyway, until things got sidetracked in one of the lewdest ways possible.

He definitely didn't expect you to show up wearing cut-off shorts with a spaghetti-strap tank top of all things, but in your defense Hawkins had been having an unusually hot fall and you didn't want to be sitting in a trailer that had no air conditioner for hours on end while you were sweating your ass off.

"Damn, sweetheart. I was going to make a joke about you having to repay me for guitar lessons, but if you're going to show up dressed like this every time I guess there's no need," he lightly teased, letting his eyes linger on your bare arms and legs a bit longer than he probably should.

"Haha, very funny, Munson." You thought nothing of his comments as you rolled your eyes, chalking them up to being nothing more than the usual flirty quips he'd throw out whenever he saw you. It wasn't as if he was attracted to you or anything like that, he just acted like that around everyone his age. That's what you'd convinced yourself, anyway.

"Seriously, you should wear shorts more often. The legs on you are enough to make a man drool," he continued with a cheeky smirk, watching as you flopped down on his bed with a certain sense of casual ease. You'd been over to his place so often you didn't even think twice about it. "And don't even get me started on those arms and collarbones."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it already, you pervert," you lightheartedly complained while tossing a pillow in his direction, which he caught before it could hit him in the face. You hated to admit it, but the playful compliments he was throwing your way was starting to actually have an affect on you. You could feel your face growing hot, and it wasn't due to the weather.

Eddie wasn't stupid, either, despite what other people might think. He knew just how much his words were getting to you, which is why he wasn't at all fazed by your complaints or the way you threw one of his pillows at him.

"Ouch, sweetheart. That really hurts to know a pervert is all you view me as," he feigned offence while making his way over to the bed, setting the pillow back down as he sat next to you. "And here I thought you might actually like me."

"Oh, shut up," you huffed with another eye roll, starting to run out of retorts to his nonstop teasing. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he actually liked you, but there was no way that was possible.

"Make me." He leaned in some, the smirk that was on his face having widened into a grin. He wasn't really expecting you to do anything in response except for maybe giving him a shove before telling him to knock it off, but you were feeling a little bit bold today, bolder than usual.

Maybe it was the outfit you were wearing, maybe it was the heat, but whatever the case may be you were willing to take his dare and run with it. Which is how you found yourself laying back on his bed without your shorts or underwear on, his face trapped between your thighs as he ate you out like a starved man.

"Oh- Oh, my God-" You moaned out loudly as you arched your back up off the bed, your hand finding its way to his hair and giving it a sharp tug. "God, yes- Just like that-"

You could practically feel the way his lips were turned upwards into a smug position at your desperate cries of pleasure, and you had no doubt that he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

His tongue moved expertly throughout your dripping wet folds, zigzagging from one area to another as he slurped happily. The cold metal from his rings dug into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gripped them tightly, keeping them spread apart.

"God, baby, you taste even better than you look," he mused out loud as he lifted his head up some to glance at you, seeming amused by the way you shoved his head back down with your hand.

"I thought I told you to shut up already." Your words held no real malice to them, but he could tell you were going to be pissed if he kept denying you, so he didn't push it.

"Jesus, baby boy, calm down. I was just trying to give you a compliment, sweetheart, that's all." His mouth met your pussy again, pulling a long and loud whine from you when his nose intentionally bumped into your clit.

"You're doing this on purpose, you bastard," you accused while tightening your grip on his hair, something that made him let out a groan that seemed to reach your very core when the vibrations of the sound hit your pussy.

"Sorry," came out his muffled response as he finally stopped teasing you and got back to work at eating you out like he was supposed to be doing in the first place. You left out a quiet sigh of relief that was shortly followed by a series of needy moans, your fingers lacing through his hair as a grounding mechanism.

Learning how to play the guitar may have been a fun idea, but getting head from the guitarist himself ending up being a much better one, especially when he made you see stars from how good he was at doing it.

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | Stranger Things masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

Kinktober 2024 masterlist | Kinktober 2024 info post/prompt list

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @elenavampire21 @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @defstr8bl0nd13 @theonetruepotato87 @caplanreblogsfics @merlinbtch (if you're crossed out it means I couldn't tag you for some reason)

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nabinabipumpum · 2 days ago

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𖦹 DON’T LEAVE ME, PLEASE ᴺⁱⁿᵍ ʸⁱᶻʰᵘᵒ ˣ ᶠ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Pairing - Ning Yizhuo(NingNing) x f!reader

Genre - Fluff and angst

Warnings - fights, mentions of breaking up, slight swearing, breach of trust(?), second chance

Synopsis: After a stressful month, a week off with your girlfriend seems perfect, but all your expectations for the week fall when she just wants to hang out with her friends.

A/N: I did this sleepily, so sorry if it's not very good, plus I've never written angst before. Sorry for any writing errors, English is not my first language and I’m not fluent

You sighed as you finally opened the door to your apartment, after a day of work, all you wanted was to finally get some well-deserved rest, good news was that you would have a week off, even better news was that Ning would be there too, no. It couldn't get any better than that, right?

You took off your shoes smiling, but he fell slightly after hearing more than one voice coming from the room, well, your girlfriend always brought her friends home after work, just to talk and eat something, it wasn't any different. You took slow steps into the living room as you looked at the four girls, your girlfriend was the first to notice you and smiled so wide, you felt all the stress leaving your body just by seeing her smiling.

"Dear!" She got up and ran to hug you.

“Hi angel.” you wrapped your arms around her as you inhaled her scent, it certainly hadn't been long since she got out of the shower as her hair was damp at the ends.

“Y/n! Good to see you.” Ning let go of you just enough to smile at her friend.

“It’s good to see you too.” you smiled, seeing Giselle smile back while Karina did the same, Winter had her mouth full of food.

“Your hair looks so beautiful.”

“Thank you Unnie.” you smiled and then turned to your girlfriend “Can we talk for a minute.”

"Of course! I will be back in a moment." she warns and drags you to the kitchen “Are you hungry?”

“No, I already ate.” she just nodded and waited for you to say “You didn’t tell me you were going to bring them here.” She let go of your hand.

“This again? They are my friends, sometimes I want to spend time with them.” She crossed her arms and you just sighed.

“That's not the problem, but I just wanted you to let me know, you know? It’s been a rough week, I thought we could just relax together today.” she looked down.

“Well, we can do that when they get out anyway.” you agreed.

“I’m going to take a shower.” you left the kitchen and on the way said goodnight to the three girls before heading down the hall and into your room.

You took a hot shower and changed into comfortable pajamas, finally crawling into bed with a new book.

You don't know exactly how long it was before NingNing entered the room, but you had read a lot of pages so you just assumed it was a long time. The girl lay down next to you and took out her cell phone, you told yourself to finish this chapter before talking to her, it's your law that you follow to the letter. As soon as you finished, you placed the book on the dresser and turned lightly to your girlfriend, who seemed too engrossed in social media.

“Hey,” you walked over and placed a light kiss on her cheeks, “you look beautiful.” She smiled lightly and looked at you.

“It took you a while to say that today, thank you.” she sealed her lips with yours and you smiled showing your teeth.

"Serious? I’ve already told you that five times today.” she laughed and hugged you “I miss you so much, baby.”

“Then let’s stay like this all night, you’re so comfortable.”

“I would never reject that.” She looked at you and brought your lips together again, in a calm and tender kiss, like she always did before going to sleep. One of your hands cupped her cheek, bringing her closer, as you enjoyed the moment you waited for so long and it felt a thousand times better than in your thoughts, the feeling of Ning's warmth on you gave you goosebumps as one of her hands stroked your back. You separated to breathe a little.

“God, I love you so much Y/n.” You smiled and caressed her cheek.

“I love you so much, Yizhuo.”

You slept happily, cuddled up with NingNing, all your problems were gone while you were in your girlfriend's arms. The constant work ended up not letting you have a long conversation or a affectionate and relaxing moment with each other, you certainly value the days off for finally being where you feel like you would always belong, next to Ning Yizhuo.

In the morning, you and your girlfriend cook together, laughing and sometimes kissing, you can't stay away from her for long.

In the afternoon, you were ready to order something for the two of you, until you entered the room and saw her finishing her makeup.

“Are you going out?” You asked, going to sit on the bed as you watched her.

“I’m going to a cafe with the girls.” you agreed as you lowered your head.

“What time will you be back?” she looked at you as you just played with your fingers.

“I won’t be long, maybe at five, I’ll let you know anything.” you agreed and looked at her, now she was getting up to get her bag and her keys.

“Okay, have fun.” you smiled and she walked up to you, her lips joining yours for a few seconds.

"I love you."

You weren't sad about it, surely the next day she would reward you like she always does, you were looking forward to it, so you tried as much as possible to make time pass quickly until Yizhuo came back and you could have one more moment with her.

It was after five o'clock and she still hadn't arrived or sent a message, you sent one to her but she didn't see it and that made you worried. You sent her about ten messages before calling and being answered by a voice that definitely wasn't your girlfriend's.

"Dear?" you mumbled when you were finally answered.

“Ah, sorry, it’s a friend of hers, she’s your girlfriend, right?” You felt your chest sink.

“Yes, where is she?” You tried to recognize the music in the background, did it lie to you?

“On the dance floor with Karina and Giselle.” you sighed and sat down on the couch “Are you there?”

“Yes…” a deafening silence remained on the line until you finally spoke “Let her know she shouldn’t be late, please.” you barely waited for confirmation before you hung up, your head throbbing.

You looked at the clock, 7PM, you sank into the couch as you heard your phone ring, but you knew who it was and you didn't want to answer it again, it wasn't the first time she had done this.

(You walked back and forth while looking at the clock from time to time, it was past midnight and NingNing hadn't arrived. The door was opened and you certainly never went to a place so quickly as this time.

“Yizhuo!” She looked at you and smiled.

"Dear!" She took off her shoes and you crossed your arms.

“Did you see what time it is? You didn’t tell me you were going to be late.”

“Oh, sorry, I guess I didn’t even remember to have my phone, I was having fun.”

“Having fun?” she agreed “Are you kidding me?” she furrowed her eyebrows.

“Sorry for taking so long, but I needed this, it’s been a stressful month.”

“I don’t mind you going to parties Ning, but can’t you just text me? I was worried about you, don't you think there's someone at home waiting for you? You’re not single Ning.” she sighed and crossed her arms, a position similar to yours.

“I know I'm not single, but I want to have fun with my friends too, I already apologized, what more do you want?”

“I want your fucking responsibility Ning Yizhuo, that’s what I want.” She was a little scared by your tone but you didn't change anything, you can't just give in to her anymore whenever you argue.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry honey, I won’t do that again.” you nodded “I’m so sorry…” she walked over to you and placed her hands on your shoulders “Are we going to forget this?” you felt soft lips against yours for a few seconds “Let me reward you, what do you think?” You held back a smile.

“Take a shower first.” she smiled and ran off to the bathroom and you cursed yourself again for falling so easily into your girlfriend's charms and eyes, well that was why you fell in love with her.)

She broke her promise, she swore she would never do that or anything like that again, that she would never make you worry like that again, she did it again and you felt terrible. Did she cheat on you? Or did she just forget? It doesn't matter, she lied and you hate lies even more from someone you should trust.

You felt the tears in your eyes and you couldn't hold it back any longer, all the frustration of the month came together with the situation and made you sob from crying so much, you cringed as you put your face in your hands to try to control yourself, an unbearable weight on your chest heart as you remembered all the times someone ended up lying to you, you thought you were pathetic.

It took a few minutes for you to finally compose yourself and wipe your face and before long the door was opened. You sat down again as you looked in the direction your girlfriend was supposed to appear.

“Baby?” you saw her, she looked tense “Hey…”

“You did it again.” She flinched at your tone, you looked at the floor, not knowing what to do.

“I wish…”

"No." you felt your chest hurt “Don’t say sorry again, you promised.” you heard the footsteps towards you and felt the space on your side, you flinched as you felt your eyes burn again “What the fuck Yizhuo.”

“Are you crying? That's why?" his head turned to her.

"That's why?"

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not a big deal Y/n.” You looked at her for a few seconds, you didn't want to cry anymore. Did she think it was no big deal?

“You promised.” you mumbled.

“I just couldn’t wait.”

“You said you were going to a cafe.”

“We changed plans.”

“This changes everything.” you sighed and placed your hands on your knees as you closed your legs tightly. “You broke a promise, you broke my trust.”

“Oh, God, you are so childish.” She stood up, you looked at her not believing the words you just heard.

“Do you think I’m childish?” she agreed “Really? I’m sorry for trusting something you said yourself, I’m sorry for wanting to spend time with my own girlfriend, I’m sorry for worrying about you.”

“I’m an adult, Y/n, we both are, be an adult.”

“Fuck you.” you stood up and walked past her heading to your room, her words felt like cuts to you, your chest pounded quickly as you opened the door forcefully and heard the footsteps behind you.

"What are you doing?" She held you, you can't see her due to the tears.

“Leaving, what does it look like I’m doing?” you released your arm from her grip “Maybe you deserve someone more mature than me, don’t you think?” you picked up any suitcase.

“That’s not what I meant, honey I don’t want someone else.” she tried to hold you, you stopped and sighed heavily and wiped your tears. “Y/n please, please.” She held your hands.

“You will do it again.”

“No I… I won’t, I didn’t want to invalidate your feelings I’m sorry, please, I beg you.” You watched her bend over a little.

“You’re not going to change that easily.”

“I will, I will change, please don’t leave me, I love you so much…” you saw tears fall into her eyes. You sighed and looked to the side.

“You hurt me with what you said, you really hurt me.”

“My love, forgive me, I never wanted to hurt you, that was without thinking, please forgive me.” You looked at her, she was crying a lot now.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I don’t want to lose you.”

"Really?" she agreed. “It’s the last time Ning Yizhuo, I swear if this happens again nothing you say will change my mind.” She agreed and hugged you.

“It will never, never happen my love, I promise.” you smiled and hugged her “I can lose everything, but not you… Oh god, never, not you…”

she kissed your lips and you felt the slight salty taste if your tears “I love you so much, I’m so sorry, I love that you worry about me, thank you for being my girlfriend.” You looked at her, you could see the affection in her eyes “You’re not childish, okay? I will never say anything like that again, never, I swear on everything, just never let me lose you.”

“That’s not up to me.”

“I know, I will do everything I can to repay you for this.”

She kissed you again, her arms wrapped around you as she cupped your cheek, you just let yourself feel her, the taste of her lips, the way she sighed as she kissed you, the world seemed to spin with the feeling of comfort that the girl passed you and the affection she left implicit in the middle of the kiss, caressing your cheek, pressing your lips carefully. You separated and you looked at her.

“I love you, Y/n”

“I love you too, Yizhuo.”

She smiled, you felt safe, you decided to trust her and now, you can say it was one of the best decisions of your life.

Your girlfriend made sure to never make you apprehensive or worried again, she sat and listened to you whenever you were stressed and just needed her and words of comfort, you felt that her fear of losing you was true just by the way she now looked much more worried before going out alone. She made you feel safe again, just like you always did with her.

Now you were sure that you belonged in Ning Yizhuo's arms.

#ningning #ning yizhuo #ningning x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #ningning x fem reader #nabinabipumpum

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ayyy-pee · 3 hours ago

Note

A request reader find a hidden library and go back in time meeting geto or choso and she like him but he has a girlfriend in the past. Reader meets future them and he recognizes her and still in love with her

HI NONNIE!!!

So sorry I'm so late on this one! (exactly one month lol). Here it is! I hope you like it!

Discord 18+ - Bluesky

Pairing: Choso x Fem! Reader

WC: 4.9k

Summary: …the heart slips backward, remembering, remembering. Anne Sexton - 'The Twelve-Thousand-Day Honeymoon'

Story Warning: Time travel?, Choso Fluff, Pining and heartbreak

Art by: shesdeny on X

“Are you sure this is the right way?” You whisper, hands latched onto your friend’s shirt.

“Yes!” Your friend whispers back, exasperation clear in his voice. “Don’t you trust me?”

You stare at the back of his head, his stupid white strands practically glowing in the moonlight as he leads you through the halls of your old high school.

“Absolutely not.”

Your friend huffs, continuing his way down the halls.

“Satoru, why the hell did they choose to have the party here anyway? This place was a shit hole even before it closed down.”

It’s dingy in here, you can barely make out your surroundings with the dim moonlight that fights to be seen through the dusty hall windows. Satoru is your lifeline, his fearlessness and long legs carrying you on this journey. The musty smell of old and rotting piles of paper makes you pinch your nostrils shut. You can hear the echo of faucets dripping from somewhere. You don’t even want to imagine what color the water coming from those pipes may be. Trash and graffiti litter the floors and the walls, and you swear you’ve seen at least six rats which makes you cling to Satoru even harder.

You haven’t set foot in this place since the day you’d graduated, damning this building to hell and leaving it and all four years spent in it behind you. You don’t know how all these years later, Satoru was able to convince you to show up and why you had to take some strange path to get to the gym.

“Couldn’t Suguru have chosen a better place for this?” You whimper, stepping over something suspiciously fuzzy.

”Ah, you know Sugu. He loves to do things his own way.”

You roll your eyes, because that’s just Satoru excusing his friend for being a dick and making everyone trek through garbage to get to his party. If anything, Suguru is likely viewing this as some strange test to see who cares enough about him to show up. You hate it, and at this moment, you hate Suguru, too.

Satoru helps you step over a pile of glass, then quickly leads you down a hall. You wonder for a brief moment why you haven’t seen anyone else yet. If this is as huge a rager as Suguru and Satoru have made it out to be, you would think you’d bump into more people along the way.

This thought quickly subsides as you continue down the hall with Satoru, recognizing this space as the hall that leads to the gymnasium. There are lanterns decorating the path that leads to the closed gym doors at the end of the hall, and you can hear music bumping loudly on the other side.

”God, finally,” you breathe, following after Satoru. You can’t wait to get the hell out of these wretched halls and see your friends and old classmates.

Old classmates…

Satoru reaches the door, sets his hand on the handle and then you quickly grab his wrist.

”Wait!” Eyes wide, you stare up at your friend. You try to squeeze the words out, a name that you haven’t said in so long because it hurts just to think it. And Satoru sees it, the way your brows knit together and how you purse your lips like it’s a forbidden word you just aren’t allowed to utter. He takes your hand in his and squeezes gently, and with the other, he pinches your cheek. It’s something he’s always done, even when you were younger. Something that grounds you when you feel like you’re spiraling.

”Hey…” his voice is soft, soothing. Exactly the way you need it to be. “I wish I could tell you whether or not he’d be here…but I don’t know.” Satoru eyes you warily, like he probably shouldn’t tell you this, but he decides to anyway. “I can tell you that he was invited, though. You know he and Sugu are close.”

That’s enough to make your heart squeeze, even after all these years. You wonder if you’ll see him tonight, the man who broke your heart with a few words, and hardly batted an eye.

Satoru looks you over, then places his hand back on the door handle. “I’ll go in first, cause a ruckus so that the attention isn’t on you. Then you can slip in quietly, okay?”

You nod, Satoru giving you one last smile before he swings the door open with a jarring slam and yells out a loud, “PARTY’S HEREEEEEE!”

The crowd of people roars in celebration, the sound emanating even through the now closed doors. Satoru has always been popular, always breathed life into any room he entered. And you’ve always been content to stand back and watch. So you do as you always have, and you quietly slip through the doors of the gym.

As you do, the cheers grow distant, sounding further and further away until the sound fades into complete silence. You’re confused, because Satoru just came in here and you know you heard everyone scream his name. You’re positive you didn’t imagine that.

And that’s not the only strange occurrence. Unless the school went through a massive renovation in the last like 14 seconds - which you doubt, given that it’s been shut down for years - you’re pretty sure this room you’re currently standing in is supposed to be the gymnasium. But you’re spinning on your heel, the dizziness beginning to settle in because you can’t wrap your head around the fact that you’re in a library.

Not the library that you’d been to many times throughout your high school years. No, this library is different. This room is grandiose, lined with large and ornate wooden shelves, tall and towering, filled with volumes upon volumes of books that are probably as old as your grandparents – and maybe their grandparents as well. There’s no sort of natural lighting in this room like there was in the library you remember. The only illumination is provided by two large candle chandeliers that hang heavily from the ceiling.

The intense silence in this room is unsettling. The only comfort you’re finding is in the musty scent of aged books drifting through the air. But other than that, you are utterly alone in this mysterious and strange room.

“S-” you try to croak out, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “Satoru…” you whisper, and it’s just so empty in here that even your small voice echoes throughout the space. You’re afraid to speak any louder than this, because what if there is someone - or something - in here with you?

The thought sends shivers up your spine and you slowly back away, your backside hitting the worn down gymnasium doors. Okay, at least there’s something familiar here…wherever here is.

“Satoru…” you call, just a little louder. There’s no answer. “Suguru?” You try, but you’re met with the same haunting silence that seems to always be here.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, trying so, so hard to figure out where the hell you are and how to get back to the gym and find your friends. You could turn around and go back in the hall. It’s as creepy as this library, but at least you’ll be back in the school. It’s somewhere familiar and better than this. Or you could stay here, and wait and see who or what comes looking for you.

The answer is obvious.

You spin around, pressing your hands on the gymnasium doors and pushing hard. And maybe you push a little too hard, because the door swings open easily and you find yourself falling to the floor. You close your eyes and act on instinct, quickly throwing your arms out as you fall to your knees and catch yourself on your hands.

“Ow…shit,” you groan. You open your eyes, gaze meeting the floor, and the first thing you notice is how bright it is. You can actually make out the details around you, which scares you more than the library because how? The floor is covered with white tiles, speckled with gray spots you recognize immediately. They’re the schools, well they’re what the school floors used to look like. But you don’t remember there being this much light in the halls when you were coming here with Satoru.

The second thing you notice is all the noise, a stark contrast to the soundlessness of the library you’d just emerged from. It sounds like excited chatter, screams, footsteps and laughter.

“Ask your mom if you can sleep over,” one girl says.

“No way! She’ll say no. You ask her!” another girl argues.

One boy yells something crude out to his friends, causing laughing to erupt.

Are you…back in high school?

The third thing you notice is a pair of black boots that have suddenly appeared in your vision, followed by a hand. You observe this hand - the chipped, black nail polish and several rings decorating the fingers - and you have a feeling you know who this belongs to. Your heart drops to your stomach, because this…this has happened before, and you did not like the outcome when it happened the first time. You doubt you’ll like it any better now.

You take the hand regardless, and the person slowly pulls you up.

“You okay?” They ask, tired eyes roaming over your form to check for any injuries. “You…fainted, I think.”

Their name gets caught in your throat, much like earlier when Satoru was comforting you.

“Sorry,” they tell you, a frown on their face. “I appreciate you coming and telling me this…”

Your mind screams ‘No, no, no! Not this moment!’ and you want to cover your ears and run, but the scene plays out before you anyway.

“But –” they say a girl’s name, but you don’t hear it. Like your mind is still blocking that out to spare you some of the heartache. “ – confessed to me a couple of days ago. We just started dating…so no one else knows yet.”

You nod, because what else can you say at this moment? You can hardly keep up with what’s going on, and you just want to get out of here as quickly as possible and back to your friends.

“Choso!” You hear someone call this person’s name as they pass by you two. “You’re gonna be late to gym!”

“Choso…” you’re finally able to speak, though his name feels foreign on your tongue. There he is. The man, well at this present moment, the boy who broke your heart all those years ago. He looks about a decade younger, just as you remember him. You remember this moment exactly.

It was your senior year of high school, and you’d finally gathered enough courage to tell your crush since middle school that you wanted to go out on a date with him. And he’d broken your heart.

It was more than a crush, though. You loved him. You’d be lying if you said you don’t still feel the same way.

Choso nods, eyes back on you and you can see concern in them. “I’m really sorry, ___.”

It’s the time you’ve heard Choso say your name in who knows how long. He looks like he wants to say more, like he doesn’t want to leave you standing in the hall alone looking all sad and pathetic because that’s exactly how you feel right now. Even though this happened forever and a day ago, it still feels fresh.

But he says nothing more. Instead, he gives you a stiff smile, which somehow makes you feel worse, and then he steps around you and through the gym doors.

Now alone again, you let your mind play catch up. Your eyes scan your surroundings. There are bright red, colorful lockers lining the walls of the hallway. People - teenagers - roaming the halls as they scurry to class. There’s a stench of body odor and too much cologne floating around that’s making you nauseous. And there’s one question that’s swimming through your mind at the moment.

“What the fuck is going on?”

It’s just your luck that someone is passing by the moment you utter these words, halting in their tracks and glaring down at you.

“Language!” He barks, and you recognize who this deep voice belongs to immediately. Tall, with a buzz cut and a goatee.

“Mr. Yaga!” You remember him being kind and caring with all of his students. He took interest in everyone’s growth and only wanted the best for them all.

The school bell rings loudly throughout the halls, alerting anyone still out that they’re now late to class.

Yaga scowls down at you, and then you also remember that as sweet as Mr. Yaga was, he was also a stickler for rules.

“Profanity and tardiness,” Yaga notes. He folds his arms across this chest, a deep frown settling on his face. “Looks like I’ll be seeing you in detention this afternoon.”

You hated high school, so to find yourself unlucky enough to be sitting in a classroom stuck in afterschool detention while you watch the boy you had confessed to having feelings for just earlier in the day cuddled up with his new girlfriend is your own personal hell.

Mr. Kusakabe is as useless as you remember, having fallen asleep just minutes after he had announced that detention was beginning. The second snores were heard, Choso’s girlfriend - whose name you still can’t recall - closed the gap between them immediately, her lips crashing into his, and it’s just been giggles and lips smacking since.

A quiet groan can be heard next to you, and from your peripheral you can make out a head of white hair taking a seat in the desk beside you. Your head snaps over to your friend, lips spreading in a wide smile because of course he’s in detention. It’s nice to see a familiar face.

“How’d it go?” Satoru leans in, whispering. “Not good I’m guessing, since he’s over there with…you know…not you.”

You sigh, explaining the situation to Satoru who just nods along. It’s a little bizarre to be filling Satoru in on what you know he already knows. But you do it anyway, because you’re not sure what else to do. You’d gone through the rest of your day after your unfortunate run in with Yaga on sort of autopilot, going to class, eating the disgusting school lunch, seeing friends that you haven’t talked to in over a decade and trying to keep up with the gossip you don’t remember anymore.

But in the unfamiliarity of it all, there’s one face that makes you feel steady, that grounds you when it feels like your world is spinning. Satoru looks at you curiously, head tilting forward so that his round sunglasses slip down the bridge of his nose so he can get a good look at you.

“You alright?” He questions, reaching forward and pinching your cheek gently. “I half expected you to be inconsolable about this. I know how much you like…”

He doesn’t say his name, but you can obviously fill in the blank.

“Besides,” Satoru adds. “You guys used to be really close.”

“Ah, that was a long time ago. Like…sophomore year.”

“Still…”

Still, it hurts.

“Oh well,” Satoru shrugs, leaning forward and laying his head down on his desk. He looks ready to take a nap. “We’re graduating soon anyway. There’s plenty of other guys out there for you. Hopefully you don’t stay stuck on him.”

If only he knew he’d be telling you this years down the line…

You and Choso had been close, having spent your middle school years inseparable. But once you got to high school, things just changed for you two. Your interests changed, and the people you surround yourself with slowly followed.

It just naturally happened, you and Choso texting less and only speaking when you’d run into each other. Those weekend movie nights you used to have stopped altogether, and eventually you’d just…drifted apart. Strangers.

But it didn’t change the fact that you liked Choso, even before you got to high school. He was your first crush, the first boy who ever made you feel safe, your first true friend. And you loved him. You loved him as more than a friend, and this morning you’d made the terribly awkward mistake of telling him how you felt.

You remember this day going a little differently. Senior year you hid in the bathrooms for the rest of the day after your rejection until you worked up the courage to sneak out of the school and walk home. You skipped your classes for the rest of the week which resulted in your parents giving you an earful, but you just couldn’t face Choso again.

It was Satoru that pulled you out of your pit of despair and forced you to hold your head high, even when you didn’t want to. You showed up to school, avoided Choso the best you could and when you did end up in the same space, you avoided looking in his direction with all your might. You couldn’t bear to see his fingers interwoven with his girlfriends, or the smiles you’re sure he gave her, or the kisses they’d shared.

He was hopelessly in love with her, and you were pathetically in love with him.

It was too painful to watch him love someone that wasn’t you back then. Even having lived this before, there’s still that familiar pang when you catch sight of the way Choso’s arms hold his girlfriend tightly as she sits in his lap during detention.

Your eyes drift over to Satoru whose mouth hangs open as he snores softly beside you, and you do your best to focus on him. But you can’t when Choso and his girlfriend are laughing loudly, huddled closely together and sharing sweet secrets with each other. You shut your eyes tightly, trying to block out the sound of giggles, smooches and whispers between the new couple.

It all seems louder now. Everything does. The sounds of pencils scribbling on paper, the annoying tapping of the keypad on phones, and that fucking kissing. God, do they ever stop?!

You try to shut out the noises, covering your ears. It’s making your head throb. You shut out Satoru’s voice as he holds onto your shoulders and shakes you, only making the pounding in your skull intensify. You want to smack his hand away and tell him to shut up, but you can’t. Not when the sound of music that someone must be playing way too loudly in their headphones is now ringing in your ears and making your head spin. Not when the sound of Choso calling out your name is making your chest hurt, making your heart squeeze uncomfortably.

The music blares louder, harder and the sound of your name on multiple people’s lips makes you squeeze your eyes shut tighter. It’s detention! You know it gets rowdy sometimes, but why is everyone suddenly acting like all this noise isn’t going to get you all in more trouble?! You don’t want any part in ending up here for even another second. You want to leave, go back to the stinky closed down school.

You don’t want to be here anymore.

You don’t want to live through this again.

You just want –

“Choso!” Satoru’s voice cuts through your thoughts loud and clear. “Grab me a wet towel! Over there!” Satoru pinches your cheek, a little harder than he usually does and you can tell he’s panicking. “Hey…hey, ___. Wake up! Open your eyes for me…”

Slowly, you do as your friend asks, eyes opening and you’re met with a pair of blue eyes that glow so brightly in this dim lighting that had it been anyone aside from you, they’d surely be met with two fingers jabbed into them and a blood curdling scream.

“Satoru?!” Your brows pull together in confusion, because the last thing you remember is your friend - much younger - sleeping beside you in detention. But while you’re still in the school, it’s now back in the terrible, decrepit condition you remember it being in before things…changed?

“Are we in the library again?” You whisper.

Now Satoru’s brows pull together. “Library? Wow, you really hit your head hard.” You realize now that you’re lying in Satoru’s lap, a small crowd gathered around you. “She’s okay,” Satoru dismisses them. “C’mere, sit up for me.”

You’re about to ask more questions, until you see someone approaching the two of you. He kneels down beside you and presses a cold, wet towel to your forehead.

“Choso…” you breathe, staring up at the man you haven’t seen since…five minutes ago?

Choso smiles shyly. He looks older now, of course. But his face has changed in the best way. He’s more handsome, more defined, though he looks more tired than you remember. There’s a long tattooed line that runs from cheek to cheek across the bridge of his nose that you don’t think anyone but Choso could pull off, and his hair hangs messily around his face.

Your heart feels as if it’ll explode.

“You okay?” He asks, and you’re brought back to that moment you’d just relived. “You like…passed out. I came in a little after it happened.”

“I’m…I think I’m okay?”

Of course this is how you meet for the first time after years of not seeing or speaking to each other. Exactly the same way your last meeting played out. This is humiliating.

“You sure? Here,” Choso gently helps you to stand, holding tightly onto your hand. “Lets go sit down.”

Satoru eyes you, a silent “will you be alright?” passing between you, and you nod to assure him that you will be fine. Choso leads you across the gym, the party resuming like it never stopped. He sits you down on the bleachers on the sidelines and takes the seat next to yours.

You would say that it’s awkward, but that would be an understatement. It’s downright painful sitting in this silence with him. You don’t know what to talk about because it’s been so long since you’ve seen or heard from each other. So you just sit there quietly, watching as your friends and old classmates drink and mingle with each other. You hold the wet towel to your head, your headache slowly subsiding.

Choso leans forward, elbows on his knees and fidgeting with his fingers, occasionally glancing over to you and only offering a smile when you meet his gaze. He does this several times until he finally clears his throat and sits up, looking over to you.

“So uh…how’ve you been?”

You want to roll your eyes because what a dumb question. But you appreciate the attempt he’s making. At least he’s trying to have a conversation. It’s more than you can say for yourself.

“I’ve been alright. Just working, traveling, hanging out with Satoru–”

Choso chuckles, nodding. “Not much has changed, then.”

And you giggle. “No, not really.”

Choso nods again, gaze shifting back to the party, and he’s back to fidgeting with his fingers. “You look good,” he murmurs, and you just barely hear it, that extra part… “That hasn’t changed either.”

He looks back at you, all wide eyed and shocked at what you’d just heard and he sits up straight in his seat, waving his hands in front of him. “I just mean…” Choso runs his fingers through his hair, the black polish and many rings he used to wear nowhere to be found. “Ah…fuck it.” He shifts his body so that he’s facing you. “I was gonna wait to do this, but honestly? I was just hoping you’d be here at all. I know it’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other or even talked. And that’s on me. I should have reached out to you over the years to check in with you. But after the last time we spoke –”

“You mean when you rejected me?” You laugh nervously, trying to break this strange tension that’s slowly building up.

He nods, frowning. “Yeah…that. I just thought that after that, you’d never want to see me again. I mean, I knew you liked me and I let…what’s her name…”

He pauses, as though he’s really trying to remember his ex-girlfriend, but something he says stands out to you.

“Wait…you knew?”

Choso pinches the bridge of his nose, groaning quietly and shaking his head. “I’m really putting my foot in my mouth tonight.” He sighs deeply. “My ex…god, what was her name? Whatever. She apparently had overheard you and Satoru talking about your crush on me after school one day. No idea why she was listening that hard. But, she came to me and told me what she heard and…” Choso looks you straight in the eye, a tiny smile curling at the corners of his lips when he tells you, “I was so happy. But I was also scared, because I liked you, too.”

You can feel heart pounding against your ribs as Choso speaks, and you feel your headache returning as you try to process all of this new information.

“But you know…you and I were both just so quiet and shy back then. I had no idea what to actually do with that information. Especially since we had grown apart by then…We weren’t even friends by that point, and I was just…really nervous about saying anything to you about this. Somehow, I let her convince me that dating her would give you the push you needed to say something to me. But, I also let her convince me not to give in too quickly. Make you sweat, you know? And I’m like…eighteen at the time. I don’t know any better…”

He’s rambling, trying so hard to get his point across and your head and chest are throbbing because what is happening tonight?

“Choso–” you cut him off, burying your teeth in your bottom lip. “What are you trying to get at?”

Once more, his fingers are in his hair and he takes hold of the hand you have pressed to your forehead, pulling it down and taking the rag. He holds your hand firmly, eyes locked on yours and he speaks.

“It should have been you.”

You swear you feel like you’re back in the mysterious library again, because you hear nothing else but Choso at this very moment.

“What?”

“It should have been you, ___,” he repeats. “It should’ve been you that I dated in high school. I should’ve grown a pair and just told you how I felt instead of letting myself be coerced into something else. Turns out my ex was just a jealous and insecure teenage girl with a crush that she knew wouldn’t go anywhere if she hadn’t come up with a plan first. Because she knew what I didn’t at the time.”

Choso’s thumb runs idly along your knuckles, back and forth like he’s trying to soothe both you and himself.

“What did she know?” You ask, because you want him to say what you’re hoping, what you’ve always hoped to hear from Choso.

He inhales sharply, then continues. “That it’s always been you. For me, it’s always been you. Even all those years ago, even back in middle school, it was you. Even when you confessed how you felt to me and I turned you down, it was you. Even when you never looked my way again, it was you. Even now…it’s you.”

You can’t speak, can’t even breathe as you just stare at the man before you.

Always been you?

It’s still you?

What do you say to that?

“Say you’ll go out with me,” Choso answers, as if he’s read your mind. “I’ve wasted so much time doing nothing, being a coward. If you’re single, and if you’ll let me, I’d like to make it up to you.”

You haven’t cried over Choso in so long, but you can feel the tears prickling at your waterline and you swipe them away before they can fall. This time, it’s not because it hurts. On the contrary. It’s because it feels so fucking good to hear these words from Choso.

When this night first started, you dreaded it. You dreaded seeing Choso again after all this time, having thought he turned you down and left you behind in high school. Then you stumbled into that strange library that had thrown you into the past, made you relive what you believe is one of the most painful days of your life, only to end up in this moment with Choso finding that it was all just one big dramatic teenage misunderstanding.

You’re not even upset about it, because you’d never let go of the love you felt for him. It didn’t matter how many years passed. It was always Choso. It will always be Choso.

So you nod, drinking in the way Choso beams with excitement and he looks very much like the boy you remember falling in love with over a decade ago.

“Really?”

“Yes, Choso. How could I say no when it’s always been you?”

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