#i've been writing this for over a year now pls help me...... i love the fic and really want to get it out there but it's such a struggle | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

6ix9inewiturmom · 8 months ago

Text

Secretly crushing- Matt and Chris Sturniolo

Summary: You and chris are dating, matt has secretly liked you, you secretly like matt, and chris asks you about it, you try your best to deny it, but chris can see right through you and lets you have one little night with matt ;)

Warnings: Angst, Smut, oral (fem receiving), candaulesism (watching people have sex in front of you: i think this is the correct term) p in v, unprotected sex, degrading, threesome ish?, picture taking, praising, cream pie, Dom!matt!Dom!chris!Sub!reader, use of Y/N, squirting, multiple orgasms, begging, “sir” kink, picture taking, OVERALL FILTHY AS FUCK

A/N: I HAD SM FUN WRITING THIS!! this is my first attempt at writing something like this!! be kind pls

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The triplets and I have been friends since about 8th grade, I met Matt in science class, then met the other two, and became inseparable. were all 20 now, living in LA together. about a year ago Chris and I started dating. It has been absolutely amazing, we go out once a week on a date night, and he always puts me first, and the sex? oh, that's heavenly. I've always been closer to Matt rather than Chris, but I can't deny that I've always had a thing for Matt and Chris, when the boys and I hit high school, I could never pick between the two of them. all of my friends would always tell me 'If you had to pick between Matt and Chris who would you pick?' I could never answer that because deep down, I wanted them both, but I was happily with Chris.

Today the Triplets invited me to do a blind deaf and mute challenge for their channel, except because there was 4 of us one of us would have to be blind and deaf.

“MATT I WANNA BE BLIND” chris exclaimed

“Okay to solve this issue, i’ll be blind and deaf, chris can be blind, matt you can be mute, and nick can be deaf, is that okay?” i say standing in the middle of matt and chris as they argue about who’s who.

“i mean i have no issue being any of them” nick throws his hands up in defense.

“alright that works for me” chris shrugs his shoulders and smiles at me.

the fans knew about mine and chris’ relationship because chris and i was accidentally spotted on nicks live stream cuddling and kissing on the couch while he was on instagram doing a Space Camp promo, it was a rough adjustment, i was getting a lot of hate, but after a couple months people just kind of accepted it.

“So since we all got our parts we’re gonna get ready to bake cupcakes” nick explained to the camera.

i grabbed my Airpods Max’s and a bandana.

“i’m suprised you didn’t grab that cute silk blindfold you’ve made me keep in my underwear drawer” chris says behind me helping me put the bandana over my eyes.

“CHRISTOPHER” i use my hand and slap his arm.

i put my airpods on and start blasting my music. nick and i are jumping around singing the same song as our spotify’s we’re linked so we could listen together.

“NEVER HAD A BITCH LIKE ME IN YA LIFE” nick and i said in unison

“OKAY IS EVERYONE READY” i say screaming as i can’t hear or see shit hoping someone can guide me in the right direction of what the hell to do.

“she obviously can’t hear how loud she is” chris says in attempt to look at the camera but looking in the complete opposite direction of the camera.

i feel a pair of hands touch my shoulders and guide me through the kitchen because apparently i was standing out of frame. i assumed it was Chris, though chris never has this firm of a grip on my shoulders.

“THANK YOU BABY” i scream looking upwards trying to thank chris for helping me.

“what’d i do” chris looks around in confusion

“OH MY GOD NICK I LOVE THIS FUCKING SONGGGGG” i lean over and start shaking my ass thinking it’s chris “THROW SOME MO” not realizing it’s matt, he gets wide eyed, and his cheeks brighten up with a light shade of pink, but in his favor you can’t see it because his bandana is covering his cheeks. i feel someone grab and yank me away

“Y/N WATCH WHERE YOUR SHAKING YOUR ASS” nick screams holding my shoulders

“WHAT” i scream back

“YES Y/N” nick yells back at me, not being able to hear what i said

“OKAY CHRIS GRAB THE EGGS” Nick screams across the kitchen and i accidentally walk out of frame again, and the second i walk out of frame i feel the same grip on my waist this time guiding me back into frame. “IM SORRY CHRIS” i scream up at who i think is chris.

“MATT WHY DOES Y/N KEEP YELLING STUFF AT ME” chris says trying to ask matt for help “and where are they eggs” he walks around in practical circles

matt rolls his eyes and he walks to the refrigerator and grabs the carton of eggs for Chris and hands them to him.

“OKAY CHRIS OPEN THE EGGS AND CRACK THEM” nick tells right in chris’ ear

“HEY JACKASS I CAN HEAR YOU, YOU DONT GOT TO START YELLING WITH YA MOUTH” chris yells towards nick.

matt pushes chris out of the way and starts trying to tell nick to be quiet because of how close their neighbors are, me being blind and deaf i’m just chilling and dancing around to the songs that are playing.

“I WANNA HELP” i try to find my way to the kitchen island by holding my hands out infront of me making my way over to where the ingredients are.

matt is pointing at me and doing mixing motions with his hands trying to get nick to tell chris that i wanna help.

“WHAT ABOUT Y/N MATT” nick frustratingly yells. “OH OH CHRIS YOUR GIRLFRIEND WANTS TO HELP” he continues

“here Y/N” chris attempts to hand me the whisk and accidentally hands me the whisk with the dirty side facing me, i grab the whisk from the top.

“EW YOU HANDED ME THIS SHIT WITH THE EGG ALL OVER IT” i yell.

“OKAY Y/N I LOVE YOU BUT SHUT THE FUCK UP” chris yells back at me.

i grab the whisk and start mixing the eggs together at the best of my blind ability’s.

“okay matt’s telling at me to lower my tone so chris try to get Y/N to put a 1/2 cup of oil in the pan” nicks voice softens.

i drop the whisk in the bowl “I GIVE UP THIS SHIT IS NASTY” in my attempt to walk to the paper towels i walk over and almost hit the fridge but matt grabs my hips and leads me to the paper towel and hands me one. but again, being blind and deaf i had no earthly sense of who it was grabbing my hips.

“CHRIS STOP STOP” nick slapping chris’ arm to get him to stop pouring the oil into the bowl.

“OKAY NOW CUT OR RIP THE BAG OPEN AND POUR THE BAG INTO THE BOWL” nick screams again in Chris’ ear

“YOU THINK YOU THE SHIT?” i start yelling “YOU NOT EVEN THE FART” i continue singing along to the ice spice song blasting in my headphones, obviously in my own world, i start dancing around in the kitchen

“YES Y/N YOURE EATING THIS SHIT UP” nick exclaimed hyping me up “OH SHIT CHRIS STOP MIXING SO HARD WAIT LET Y/N DO IT” nick yells again grabbing the whisk and walking towards me and leading me to the bowl. i place the whisk into the bowl carefully and start mixing how i normally would and i feel matt (assuming its nick this time) grab my hand and slow my movements down.

“OKAY ITS MIXED UP NOW” nick once again yelling “NOW MATT IS GONNA POUR IT BECAUSE I DONT TRUST YOU GUYS TO POUR IT IN THE CUPCAKE SHEET” yelling in chris’ ear he throws his hands in the air.

“matt swear im gonna kill em, keeps yelling in my ear like a fucking animal” chris looks around at this point just talking to himself.

“OKAY WERE GONNA TAKE OUR STUFF OFF AND PUT THESE IN THE OVEN AND WELL BE BACK” nick yells before taking off his headphones, and tapping me letting me know to take off my headphones and bandana.

“nick you gotta stop yelling, you too Y/N” looking at me smiling

“i can’t hear or see, i was in my own world half the time” i say smiling back at him

“okay it says they gotta cook for 25 minutes” matt says reading the box to nick.

as the cupcakes are cooking we’re all in the kitchen cleaning it up from the mess we all made laughing at shit we did without realizing it, talking about how bad these cupcakes could turn out.

Chris pulls the cupcakes out of the oven and places them on the stove and we’re all looking at them admitting they look a little weird but still edible.

“okay we didn’t do HORRIBLE” chris admitted to the camera.

“i mean we definitely could have absolutely fucked these up so badly” i say laughing softly.

“WELL anyways that’s it for today’s wednesdays video! i hope you guys enjoyed it and we’ll see you guys on friday!” nick says before walking over and clicking the red button and ended the recording.

“so who’s editing, cause i don’t feel like it” nick comes back around to the kitchen island.

“yeah no i’m good, last time i edited i saw clips on tiktok over the poor editing i did” matt laughed

“i will” chris groans and walks to the camera grabs the SD card

“come on Y/N, i can go edit this and you can watch Gossip girl for the 50th time” chris smiled gabbing my hand and leading me to his bedroom.

“Y/N YOURE SO REAL FOR REWATCHING THAT” nick yells from downstairs causing me to giggle softly.

“okay ma, just lay down i got the rest” chris says in a soft loving tone with a smile on his face

as i lay down i turn on the tv to gossip girl and just lay down in the comfort of Chris’ room as he sits and gets on the laptop on his desk and begins to rewatch and edit the video with the occasional laughter.

“Y/N what the fuck is this” chris’ voice goes cold almost.

i get up off the bed looking a little confused “what are you talking about baby?”

he rewinds the video a little to see me grinding up on matt singing along to throw some mo “this isnt even the first either, you and matt flirted the WHOLE video, we can’t even fucking post this now, because of your dumbass” his voice raises

“chris, you do realize i couldn’t see or fucking hear right?” i turn to look at him who’s once loving eyes now filled with rage.

“yeah but don’t you think you should have KNOWN my touch?” he raised his voice. “in matter of fact” he starts and fast forwards the video “look at his hands, look at how they hold your waist, if you think that’s it hold on there’s more” he sarcastically says. “HERE, when you’re whisking his hands are GRIPPING on yours and you don’t even stop him” he stand off his gaming chair looking down at me.

“Chris i don’t know what you’re so pissed off for, i do understand we can’t post this now, but you’re mad because i couldn’t see or hear ANYTHING? me and matt are JUST friends chris” i say looking up in his eyes. deep down i knew i was lying, ive always loved matt more then a friend but watching these videos knowing it was matt now? i can’t help but feel a little turned on, i know it was wrong of me but damn.

“Y/N don’t lie, i see the way you look at matt sometimes, i’ve seen it since we were younger, but i thought maybe i had a chance, you can’t lie to me about how you feel about him” his voice stays in a deeper tone almost a hurt tone, but knowing chris he’s not gonna get all mushy with me.

“Chris what the hell are you even talking about?” i run my fingers through my hair.

“okay since you’re playing stupid, leave. i don’t care where the hell you go, just go away from me” his voice now in anger pointing at the door.

i press my lips together and nod before grabbing my belongings from his nightstand and slamming his door and walking downstairs.

“WOAH Y/N where are you going and why did you just slam Chris’ door?” nick questions.

i let out a sigh “he thought when matt was guiding me through the kitchen being BLIND AND DEAF, was me and him flirting, and when i accidentally starting throwing it back on him, BUT-“ i was cut off by nick

“OKAY FOR ONE, it wasn’t flirting, and for two, you didn’t mean it, you were blind and deaf, why is he so mad, i mean we can just cut those parts out, it’s not totally ruined” nick says in an attempt to justify my actions, matt was so deeply invested in his phone i doubt he even heard the conversation.

“well whatever, i’m out of here, i love you guys!” i say walking out of the front door carefully shutting it and making my way to the car.

i back out of the driveway and turn my music on to distract me of my thoughts but my mind clouds with thoughts of the way matt’s hands felt on my body, the way he grabbed my waist, the way i accidentally threw it back on matt. why was i thinking like that? my thighs subconsciously clenched together. god i knew it was wrong. but here i am, getting turned on over a man who is my best friend and my boyfriend’s brother. but he had this glow to him, it was addictive.

𝜗𝜚 The next day 𝜗𝜚

i didn’t really sleep much last night, i was anxious, horny, mad, all of the feelings in one. i lay in bed watching movies when my Phone pings, i turn it over to see a message from chris.

Owen 💍

Come over tonight, and wear something easy to take off.

is he for real? make up sex isn’t gonna fix anything.

Y/N

Chris? really? make up sex?

Owen 💍

Nah nah just trust me ma, you’re gonna love it.

Y/N

Okay okay i’ll see you at 6

what did he have planned?? but alas i accepted, i sighed and went to the bathroom and turned on my shower to wash my hair, and shave… for whatever reason. chris didn’t care about what i looked like but something definitely told me that i should shave.

6 o clock rolled around faster then i knew it. i did my makeup, curled my hair and threw on a tight, short, skirt and a white crop top with a matching black lacy lingerie set underneath it all.

i grab my purse and phone and drive over to chris’ shared house with his brothers. as soon as i get there i use my spare key and open the locked door, to find the living room empty, assuming they’re all in their separate rooms. i slowly make my way to chris’ room and knock a couple times.

“Chris.. it’s me” i softly say into the door.

“come in” he yells softly from the other side of the door.

i walk into the room and find matt and chris sitting on his bed looking at chris’ phone, i’m a little confused but i thought he wanted to have a sit down talk with me and matt about stuff considering how last night went.

“so Y/N” chris stands up making his way towards me “i want to first start off by saying you look amazing” he comes closer to me talking in almost a whisper while brushing his fingers tips on my cheek making me shiver.

i lean my head down “thank you” i softly smile.

“no talking” his voice gets sturn “im gonna be doing all the talking and you’re gonna listen like the good girl i know you can be” his eyes fill with lust.

i nod “yes sir” i bite my lip softly

“you’re such a good girl for me” he smiles.

“now since you want to be a little slut and try to flaunt around my brother… you’re gonna be treated like a slut and let Matt fuck you like one” he smirks.

“w-what..?” my eyes widen.

“you heard me. i’m gonna watch matt fuck you like the little whore you are” he spits holding my jaw between his thumb and pointer finger.

“understand?” he says gazing down at me.

“y-yes sir” i nod nervously.

“such a good listener for me yeah?” he smiles placing a soft kiss on my lips.

“now strip and show matt what kind of whore you are” he says and walking to his gaming chair sitting down manspreading.

i walk over towards matt who’s sitting on the edge of the bed, i smiling devilishly pulling the shirt over my head and throwing it on the floor and pulling my skirt down leaving me exposed in nothing but my lingerie set.

“you can touch her, no need to be shy now matt” chris spits adjusting himself in the chair.

matt grabs my hips pulling me closer to him harshly and admiring my figure before him, running his fingers up and down my waist slightly running his fingers over my clothed nipples which hardened over his touch.

“you’re so fucking sexy” matt says in a husk whisper.

“t-thank you” i smile at matt.

“nu uh stop talking. you’re only gonna speak when i ask a question, got it?” matt’s eyes darken with lust.

“y-yes sir?” i questioned him not knowing if that’s what i say, i know chris likes it but considering i don’t know how matt is, im nervous.

“you treat him how you treat me Y/N” chris speaks from a couple feet away admiring how i react under matt’s touch.

i nod softly returning my eyes back to matt still gazing at my figure under his fingers. he wraps his arms around my back to unclip my bra letting it fall off my shoulders, his eyes widen slightly at my bare breast as his lower lip goes between his teeth.

his lips attached to my breast taking my hard nipplr between his teeth sucking harshly making my head go back and a soft whimper escape my lips as he massages one breast and his lips around the other occasionally kissing my nipple and switching breast.

chris’ eyes never leave me watching me come undone from his brothers touch. “you’re such a whore Y/N” chris speaks under his breath.

matt detached his lips from my breasts and uses his hands to rip my underwear off my legs and picking me up and throwing me on the bed letting a whimper fall from my lips at his harshness. he adjusts himself between my legs and comes up to face me and places a harsh hungry kiss on my lips swiping his tongue over my bottom lip almost begging for entry. as soon as my mouth open slightly he uses his tongue to explore my mouth fighting my own tongue for dominance he obviously won. his hand creeps down to rub his fingers through my wet folds of my pussy and letting a soft groan to escape from his mouth at my own wetness.

“so fucking wet for me yeah?” he says smirking into my lips.

he stands up using his hands to grab my ankles yanking me to the edge of the bed and immediately attacking my pussy with his mouth leaving open mouthed kissed on my clit.

“M-Matt, so fuc-fucking good” i moan out struggling to get a full sentence out of my mouth.

chris chuckles from across the room in a mocking manner. matt continues to flick his tongue over my clit now using his middle finger to enter my aching hole and curling it upward leaving me a moaning mess with just his mouth and fingers. he whines into my pussy “you have the sweetest fucking pussy”

i moan in response as he adds his ring finger in me as his cold rings hit the entry of my hole over and over again. my hands goes down to run his fingers through his hair.

“did he say you could touch him Y/N?” chris stands up from his seat walking to the other side of the bed and grabbing my wrist to pin them over my head.

i violently shake my head as my legs begin shaking and my cervixs contracts around matt’s fingers.

“Y/N i asked you a question” he says sternly looking at me. “did he say you could touch him?” he spits looking down at my fucked out face.

“N-no s-sir” i stutter out in a whimper. “cl-close” i scream out.

“beg” matt mumbles against me.

“i-i can’t” my eyes roll back into my head with moans spilling out of me.

“beg him Y/N, or you’re not cumming the rest of the night, and believe me, you’re in for a LONG night” chris says smirking still holding my wrists pent above my head.

“p-please s-sir, i’m so, so close” i whimper out.

“beg harder” matt’s head lifts up looking down at me while his fingers plunge into my at a ungodly speed curling them upwards hitting my spot sending me over the edge.

“please” i repeat a couple times “i-ill be- good” my back arches off the bed.

“cum” matt harshly says, which is all it took to send me into a euphoric orgasm as my cum drips out of me and onto his fingers.

chris let’s go of my wrists smiling down at me with nothing but lust in his eyes as my eyes trail from his eyes down to matt who’s undressing himself pulling his sweatpants and underwear down in one swift motion letting his hard needy cock to spring up and hit his stomach, he was pretty close to chris’ size but matt had so much more girth to his.

“you like what you see?” matt taunts.

i nod with a smile on my lips.

“get on all fours” matt’s once smile turns into a smirk looking up at chris who’s also smirking over at matt.

i flip over with my ass flaunting in the air and using my elbows for support and speeding my thighs and legs apart slightly for matt.

matt rummaged through chris’ bedside table for a condom but was quickly stopped by chris.

“no since she wants to act like a whore, you can fuck her like one and fuck her raw” matt smirks over at Chris’ comment and walks towards the edge of the bed and using his cock and slapping my pussy harshly with it letting a loud whine from me.

“someone’s sensitive” matt chuckles taunting me as his slides his tip up and down my soaping wet folds.

he slides just the tip in at first before inching his way in allowing me to adjust to his size as he bottoms out letting a groan escape from his lips and a screech from my lips come out.

“fuck she’s so tight” he groans and mumbles out.

chris smirks walking backwards till his back hits the wall crossing his arms watching matt fuck himself into me.

he starts thrusting in and out pulling out except for the tip and thrusting hard bottoming out each time before thrusting faster and harder.

“Matt” i moan out dragging out the ‘t’ of his name.

his left hand grabs my wrist wrist cuffing them behind my back using his right hand to push my head into the mattress containing his pace in and out of me.

“C-close” i muffle out in the sheets

“no, you’re gonna hold it” matt sternly replied.

“p-please” tears of pleasure form in my eyes as i whimper and scream.

“hold it” he forces my head deeper in the mattress

“c-ca-“ i was cut off by my orgasm gushing out of me squirting all over his cock and thighs leaving a puddle beneath me.

“that was incredibly hot Y/N but, you’re in deep shit now” matt pulls out flipping me back over my back staring down at my glistening red sensitive pussy.

chris shoots matt a smirk and walks over to his dresser ruffles through it pulling out my pink vibrator i use on occasion with chris or when chris is on tour, and throwing it to matt.

matt immediately turns it on the highest setting and placing it on my sensitive clit and pushes himself in me giving me no time to adjust.

matt forces my knees to my chest spreading them open to allow room for the vibrator on me, thrusting heavily in me kissing my cervix with his tip.

i’m a moaning mess beneath him as chris comes around placing his hands on either side of my head.

“is it too much princess?” he taunts smirking.

i nod vigorously as a response as screams and moans escape from me while matt continues to pound himself into my grunting with each thrust.

“this is what happens when you don’t listen Y/N” matt growls down at me as i can feel another orgasm approaching in my core as i tighten around matt again. chris stands up a little and pulls his phone out and opens his camera to get a picture of my fucked out expressions with my mascara pouring down my cheeks and lipstick stains down my chin as he smiles at his phone.

“are you close?” matt removed his hand from my knee still holding the vibrator against my clit, he used his hand to hold my throat softly squeezing my neck on the sides making me see more then just stars now.

“NO” i scream out but my trembling legs gave me away as my cervix spasms around his cock thrusting in me.

“are you close” his grip on my throat tightens as he moves the vibrator around my clit making my eyes roll back and my back arching off the bed.

“NO” i scream out again with more tears falling from my eyes from the overstimulation and pleasure.

“i don’t believe you” he spits smirking at me.

“Fu-fuck” my voice shakes and my throat becomes dry “C-CLOSE” i horsily scream out.

“i know you are baby, come on, cum on my cock” matt’s voice becomes softer as my legs shake and i contract around his cock squirting once again on his torso, cock, and the bed.

his thrusts become sloppier throwing the vibrator on the bed somewhere else as he thrusts in me a couple more times before coating my pink walls white with his cum as he pulls out slowly watching his cum come out of my hole smiling at me.

“are you okay” Chris and matt said in unison smiling at me and back at eachother.

“y-yes” i said out of breath.

chris and matt chuckles.

“i’ll change the sheets” matt says helping me off the bed placing me down on the floor making sure i don’t fall over.

“i’ll go run her a shower real quick” chris comes over towards me picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the shower.

“i-im sorry i never told you ab-“ i start.

“don’t worry about it ma i promise, me and matt are fine, me and you are even better i promise you that” he says kissing my lips softly before putting me in the shower and helping me shower.

“i love you” i say smiling at him as he massages my scalp.

“i love you most” he smiles back at me rinsing my hair out.

we finish showering after putting on some of chris’ clothes on me then making our way back to chris’ room as matt finishes changing the sheets smiling at me.

“i can’t believe you got her to squirt before me” chris chuckles breaking the silence.

“YOUVE NEVER GOTTEN HER TO DO THAT?” matt’s eyes widen as a smile peaks from his lips.

“nope” me and chris said together.

we all laugh softly “wait where’s nick? i really don’t want to explain this to him…” my voice trails off.

“well after chris came to me with a proposal about all this we made him go to a friends house for the night, and told him that i was also going to a friends house so he wouldn’t get suspicious” matt says kind of laughing at himself.

“well then can we all watch a movie together?” i smile at both chris and matt

“of course we can” chris chimed in making his way to the bed and placing me in the middle of the bed as matt is on one side and chris on the other turning on the TV putting on Gossip girl for me.

“i never understood the plot of this fucking show” matt says looking over at chris then back at me who already fell asleep. “and she’s out” matt says smiling

“this is typical Y/N” chris says laughing “i just roll with it” he adds turning back to the TV, and slowly both of them fell asleep with me in between both of them peacefully.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N pt 2: SO I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS AND ENJOYED IT AS MUCH AS I DID WRITING IT!! i love you all and tysm for over 400 followers!! 🩷🩷

XOXO

gabs 💋

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo

389 notes · View notes

roosterr · 11 months ago

Text

i've known war

john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader wc: 9.3k (whoops) summary: you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. warnings: established relationship, angst and sadness and depression, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, graphic description of injury, mentions of torture, eventual happy ending, military and medical inaccuracies, pls ignore any plot holes i beg

requested here! follow up to love you from afar, but can be read as a standalone. im so sorry this took me so long to write lmao.

it always feels like the first time when you kiss him. even now, years down the line, the sparks, the warmth, the daze that you leave him in; he truly believes it will never get old.

the way you look, standing in the open doorway of the helicopter, silhouetted against the bright blue sky, it makes his head feel so fuzzy he almost forgets why you're all here in the first place.

it's the sweet sound of his name passing your lips that pulls him back to the present, your voice sending his stomach fluttering.

"earth to johnny," you chuckle, turning to face him and resting your weight against one side of the open door, "what're you thinking so hard about?"

he can't help the smile that breaks out at the sound of your laughter. "just you." johnny replies, closing the small distance between you and snaking an arm around your waist. you smile as he leans in closer, murmuring low in your ear, "and, how i cannae wait to get ye home."

you laugh again, placing a hand on his chest but not quite pushing him back. "we've got a job to do first."

he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. "then we'd better get a move on, eh?"

"i'll race you," you grin at him, haloed by the light of the sun so beautifully he has to snap himself out of his reverence to respond.

"oh, you're on."

perhaps it was slightly irresponsible the way he was rushing the others along for his own gain, but within a matter of minutes they're breaching the facility and well on their way to being done with this.

it's only when he's stalking along a dimly lit corridor that he slows down. something was bothering him, an off feeling in the back of his mind that he just can't ignore.

before he can think about it any further, a boom shakes the walls, filling the air with dust and obscuring his vision even more. it was close enough to start a faint ringing in his ears, coming from back the way he came; where he'd split up with ghost and, more importantly, you.

he should stay on target, continue with what they're here to do, his job – but what if you were in trouble? if there's a chance you need his help, he couldn't risk it. it takes less than a second for him to turn back, making the decision to check on what caused the explosion before continuing.

quietly stalking back down the corridor, it takes him slightly longer to register the fact that he hasn't heard anything over the radio; no updates, no clever remarks from ghost, nothing. they worked not fifteen minutes ago, just after you'd split up and checked them. surely nothing could've happened in such a short space of time?

he does his best to push through the sinking feeling that tries to drag him down, but it's stubborn, creeping in from the corners of his mind.

he reaches where he left you in half the time it took him to walk away, the intersection of two corridors just as empty as the rest of the halls. he points his flashlight in the direction you went, and the feeling in his gut gets worse.

something glinting in the light catches his attention. the end of the corridor is collapsed, when it definitely hadn't been before, but it's what lies in front of the rubble that he zeroes in on. partially obscured by the layer of filth and blood coating it, there's no mistaking it when he kneels down, dropping his rifle to the ground beside him, and carefully takes the metal in his trembling hand.

it's a pair of id tags.

he numbly calls your name. it bounces off the walls and echoes back to him. the blood runs through the creases of his hand, staining the flesh. the letters of your name are clear through the dirt.

no. you can't be gone.

he looks up to the rubble, shrouded in darkness, back down to your tags, back up to the rubble, and there's a hand just visible under the concrete that looks sickeningly like yours and–

he tears his gaze away, back down to your tags. the chain is snapped, like it had been ripped off in a hurry, as if you'd known you were going to die and wanted to make sure he would find them–

no, no no. you're not dead. you can't be. he just saw you fifteen minutes ago, he bumped his helmet against yours in lieu of a kiss like he always did before you parted ways. you were fine and you were smiling at him. it was only fifteen minutes, you were right here, he can still hear your voice taunting him about the race between you, it was only fifteen minutes–

a heavy hand comes down on johnny's shoulder, startling him out of his panicked daze and instinctively he jumps up and swings his arm at whoever stuck up on him.

ghost catches his forearm easily, his eyes moving between your tags clutched in johnny's fist to the wreckage behind him. when he meets johnny's watery eyes again, the coldness in his gaze seems to soften as he arrives at the same conclusion.

the ringing in johnny's ears hasn't left. in fact, it's gotten worse.

"we– we gotta find 'em," johnny's breath comes out shallow and ragged, the panic slowly rising in his chest through the initial numbness. "fucks sake, they cannae– we– we–"

"johnny." ghost interrupts his sputtering short, bracing both hands on his biceps and giving him a gentle, grounding shake. "...come on."

"no! simon we–" his breath catches in his throat, heart constricting painfully beneath his sternum as he grips the front of ghost's vest in desperation. why was ghost giving up so easily? didn't he care? didn't he want to find you?

ghost lowers his gaze, tearing away from the distraught expression on the sergeant's face. "they're gone, soap."

"shut the fuck up!" johnny growls, despair seeping into his voice with every second that passes without you. he tries to shake ghost's hands off, but he doesn't budge. "ye dinnae ken that! they're still here somewhere, we cannae leave without 'em!"

he's gripping your tags like a lifeline, the metal searing against his palm and heavier than anything else he'd ever carried. he shouldn't have them, they shouldn't be in his hand, they should be around your neck, you should be here, with him, and not…

it's too much. his knees give out from under him and, despite ghost's firm grip on his shoulders, he sinks to the floor with his head in his hands.

"simon, fuck– please…" it's a whisper, under his breath, but he knows ghost heard from how he crouches down beside him, laying an arm over his heaving shoulders as he steadily begins to sob.

it's not real. it can't be real. he wants this to be a nightmare so fucking badly, but the pain in his chest is far too real, his tears burning tracks down his face, the weight of your absence pressing down on him and crushing him under the pressure.

he barely notices when price and gaz appear in the hall ahead of them, just about registering the sound of the debris crunching under their boots as they approach. the pair don't say anything as they take in the scene, looking down with furrowed brows at where johnny and ghost are crouched on the floor.

the captain opens his mouth to ask, but ghost cuts him of with a solemn shake of his head.

words are exchanged, but johnny doesn't hear them. his head feels impossibly light, an expanding pressure beneath his temples that makes it hard to think. the ringing keeps getting worse.

the sound of gunfire makes it through the fog. gaz and ghost each take one of his arms, hauling him to his feet and essentially dragging him after the captain as they make their way back out of the building. he can't bring himself to fight them. he blinks, and finds himself strapped into his seat, the one next to him hauntingly empty.

price is talking into the radio, to laswell he assumes, but johnny doesn't register anything he says – anything except the last two words:

"...one k.i.a."

the air is thick with a kind of tension he's never felt before, a shroud of numbness that he can't seem to shake. when they land it follows them, seeping into the air on base and pushing down on whoever crosses their path. none of them have to ask to understand what happened.

johnny keeps your tags, clutches them close to his heart, and practically bites the head off of anyone who tries to take them from his white-knuckled grip, even as he gets checked out in the medical wing. his quietness puts the medics on edge, he can tell. something about the way he doesn't even flinch when they cleanse his wounds, the polar opposite to his his usual talkative nature, it tells them there's no use trying to console him. they try to convince him to let the tags go, but he doesn't acknowledge their words.

the broken chain stays firmly wrapped around his palm until he's staring down his own hollow face in the bathroom mirror. he'd turned the sink on fifteen minutes ago to wash the blood away, the water so hot it fogs up his reflection, but he can't bring himself to put his hands under the stream.

because it's your blood, not just the usual grime from missions. if he washes it off, he's washing you off, and he doesn't want to do that, no matter how disgusting it is.

there's a knock at the door, and only then does he realise how long he's been staring at the red that decorates his hands. he still makes no effort to move.

despite his lack of response, gaz opens the door and meets his eyes in the mirror. there's a pause as he waits for johnny to say something, but when he only lets the silence go on, he takes it upon himself to approach.

"soap…" he utters, brows tilting in concern watching his friend continue to stare absently into the mirror. with a deep sigh, kyle takes his empty fist and pries his fingers from his palm. johnny's eyes gravitate to the fresh blood that wells up in the crescent indents. watching the red droplets fall, disappearing into the running water, the pain finally registering in his mind when kyle presses a cloth to his hand.

the sting of the hot water is there, a distant feeling as johnny allows him to wash the blood away, never saying a word as he watches kyle's efforts, like an observer of his own form, right there but looking in from the outside.

kyle reaches for your tags, but his fingers barely brush the metal before johnny is shoving him back with a rush of anger that happens so fast he doesn't even have time to process his own reaction.

with a thud, kyle's back hits the wall and for a moment neither of them dare move. they watch each other in silence, wide-eyed shock mirrored in both their expressions.

"i…" i'm sorry. the words catch in his chest, falling into the void there and never escaping for gaz to hear. he can't let him touch your tags. it's the only part of you he has left. "...don't touch 'em."

kyle squeezes his eyes shut, breathing a deep sigh through his nose. "alright, i'm sorry, i won't touch them." his tone is low and careful as he steps closer again, hands open so johnny can see them. he feels like a feral animal, being coaxed to let kyle approach. "but you need to rest, mate."

the weeks blend together after that day. some days johnny feels like the shock will never wear off, like he's living on autopilot. others, it all comes crashing down on him and even dragging himself out of bed becomes a challenge.

his dreams are plagued with images of you, lifeless and cold. it stops him from sleeping most nights, but others are filled with memories of your life together playing on loop, a constant reminder of what he can never have again.

the room you used to share is always filled with flowers; gardenias, gladioli, forget-me-nots, and anything else he sees that he thinks you'd like. when they wilt, and eventually die, he presses the petals in the pages of his sketchbook, keeping them in a box next to the very first flowers he ever got you, the memories preserved forever under your – his bed.

that same sketchbook that's filled with page after page of your image, some from the multitude of pictures he keeps of you, and when he inevitably runs out of references, he draws you from memory. it gets to the point where he can't pick up a pencil without your face haunting him; you always did love his art, even if he didn't think it was any good.

he knows he's not the only one taking it hard. the others are different too; gaz is quieter, something more serious in his eyes now. the captain doesn't appear moved on the surface, and neither does ghost, but when they look at the empty seat where you used to sit, the memory of you is evident in the way their shoulders deflate ever so slightly.

once word spreads about what exactly happened, the never-ending condolences and pitying looks from the people around base gets old very quickly. they tell him how they're so sorry for his loss and what happened to you was so tragic, and it shouldn't annoy him as much as it does, but he can't help the anger that bubbles up in his chest when they talk about you.

he doesn't want to hear it, and every time he has to listen to their pitying comments it only makes him resent them more. they didn't know you, they didn’t care, they probably didn't even know who you were before you died. they could never hope to understand what you meant to him, to the taskforce, the gap in their team that you left behind.

it's when someone suggests moving on from you that it all finally bubbles over.

six months later, a long time since that day but somehow no time at all. he'd gone out for drinks for the first time in a while, after some gentle coercion from simon, along with another group of soldiers staying on base.

he didn't even want to go, not really, but something in him knew he couldn't carry on like he had been. he needed some form of normalcy, one night where he can pretend everything is fine and you're just waiting for him back home, to just forget.

it didn't take him long to realise going out with them was a mistake. almost immediately he was dragged into a conversation with a few guys from another unit, and despite his many attempts they just wouldn't leave him be.

somehow, after about an hour of mindless chatter, they land on the topic of their love lives and recent conquests, and johnny immediately felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. he wanted to slip away, avoid what he knew was coming at any cost, but he couldn't get away fast enough.

one of them brings up your name, they all look to him with a sort of curiosity that makes his skin crawl. they ask him if he's planning on staying hung up on you forever. johnny says it's only been six months. one of them laughs and tells him it's just sad, and from the looks of it you weren't anything special.

johnny smashes a glass over his head. price benches him for a few weeks after that.

it's hell, being left behind, alone, while the others went on like usual, and truthfully he starts to resent them all, bit by bit from the first time he's left on the tarmac. it felt like they didn't care, that johnny's heart, his life, his soul has changed but they carried on without looking back once. he isolates and shuts them out in a fit of misplaced anger, building the walls around his heart higher and higher and letting that resentment fester.

the day of your funeral brings it all crashing down. after all those months of waiting, johnny didn't even make it more than five lines into the speech he'd prepared before he's breaking down and stumbling out the side door in a hyperventilating mess. simon follows behind like his shadow, sitting down with him when he slides down the wall with a hand clutching his chest. he cries into simon's shoulder for rest of the service, releasing all the pent up anguish he'd been trying to keep inside in a catharsis he didn't realise he needed.

when they get back to base the next morning, johnny’s practically begging to be allowed back in the field. he found himself missing the chaos, the unpredictability of the battlefield was where he was in his element. this job was how you met, how you got together, how you lived. he never felt closer to you than when he was out in the field with adrenaline pumping through his veins.

it takes some convincing, but price gives in and everything feels like it's back to normal. missions are quieter than they'd ever been, but johnny finds it doesn't bother him anymore. he feels your presence by his side like the sun on his back, always with him, like his guardian angel.

it's six more months before anything changes.

in the back of the helicopter, a few minutes out from the landing site, an oddly comforting sense of déjà vu washes over him. the bright blue expanse of the sky, the warmth of the sun on his skin, he almost feels that if he turned to his left, he'd see you sitting there with that same smile lighting up your face.

his fingers tighten around your tags.

"you watchin', bonnie?" he presses his lips to the cool metal, feeling your name under his skin as he mumbles to himself. his gaze finds the roof of the helicopter, and even without looking he knows the others are watching him, that familiar solemn look on their faces.

they were doing this for you. everything johnny did was for you. he puts your tags safely away in the pocket if his vest closest to his heart.

the helicopter jolts as it lands, and with no more than a second's hesitation he's shooting up from his seat, a renewed energy flooding his body to the tips of his fingers. they step out into the biting air, a chill than not even the afternoon sun could stave off, and quickly begin their march into the small facility.

"you two, take that side. gaz, with me." price commands, and with a sharp nod from the three of them, they split up and begin their canvassing. they were here for intel, but there was no guarantee they were alone, despite the emptiness of the halls they move through.

their footsteps echo off the walls, only the distant howling of the wind outside to accompany them. the hairs on the back of johnny's neck were on end, an unease setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind following behind ghost.

the déjà vu from earlier isn't comforting anymore. he doesn't feel you watching over him, and the feeling only gets stronger as they approach a doorway ahead, bathed in a red light.

ghost pauses in the entrance, looking back at johnny and waiting for his affirming nod before pushing forward. the room is empty, the same as the rest of the building, save for the table sitting against the far wall.

there's something else there, he notices as he creeps closer to get a better look. a frown darkens his expression. it's a laptop, untouched and central on the table, a strange contrast to the almost methodical emptiness around it.

"oi, check this." johnny calls, turning around as ghost stalks over with a similar confusion on his face.

"that what we're here for?" he asks, examining the laptop with a deep frown casting shadow over his eyes.

"looks like it." johnny replies, slowly and carefully picking it up as his frown deepens. he was half expecting it to somehow blow up, but when he lifts the screen it lights up to the desktop with no issue. "that's convenient."

"very convenient..." ghost grunts, jerking his head in the direction of the door and speaking into the radio as he walks ahead of johnny. "price, we've got it. headin' to exfil now."

back on base a few hours later, the four of them with the addition of laswell sit around the table in a meeting room with the doors firmly shut, eyes locked onto the laptop with rapt tension as gaz opens the only file they could recover from the device.

the video starts abruptly with 'the mask' – the pretentious alias of man that heads the organisation they've been steadily eliminating all this time – in front of the camera, the dingy room behind him barely lit, the walls splattered with what johnny could only assume was blood.

"i trust that my message has found you well, task force one-four-one." his voice comes through the speakers, crackly and distorted by the low quality recording. "you have been relentless in your pursuit of us, and i applaud you for your efforts, but it's time to put an end to this."

johnny looks back at price, watching as his expression hardens and his fingers dig into his arms where they're crossed over his chest. it's obvious they've been set up, but it's too late to be concerned with that now. the problem now is how they're going to continue knowing the enemy has information on them that they shouldn't have.

the sound of something being dragged brings his attention back to the video, facing the screen again to see another masked man dumping a person with a bag over their head onto a chair in the centre of the room.

"i have something i believe you will be interested in." the chuckle is audible in his voice even beneath the mask and through the screen.

their wrists and ankles are tied together, and if it weren't for the laboured rise and fall of their chest, johnny wouldn't be sure if they were even alive.

"fuck– a hostage?" price spits, and even without looking he knows laswell is already working on finding a location, if the sound of her rapidly typing is any indication.

"something very… precious to you."

the figure moves to stand behind the person in the chair and yanks the bag from their head. he grabs their jaw and forces them to look up, a sickening laugh meeting johnny's ears as they make eye contact with the camera.

it's…

it's you.

you're beaten and bruised and covered head to toe in blood, but it's undoubtedly you when the faceless man yanks your head up.

johnny's sure his heart stops.

you're alive. you've been alive all this time. in the hands of a terrorist, and within an inch of your life, but…

you're alive.

"drop your investigation of us, and i will let them live." the masked man stalks back around to your side, still holding your jaw in a vice grip. the way you cower, as much as you can with that man's filthy hands on you, it breaks something in johnny. how long have you been in their hands, how long have you been abused by them?

how long have you been waiting for him?

he feels sick to his stomach, but he can't tear his eyes away. the lacerations on your face, the endless bruises littering your skin – when he spots the ones around your neck, he has to swallow down the bile – and how you just seem so tired, barely even fighting to keep your eyes open.

the masked man looks down to you again, pausing as he directs you to look at him through what seems like a black eye. the five of them watch, frozen by shock or anger or both, as the man rears his hand back and slaps you across the face so hard your head whips in the other direction. a pained, defeated sound escapes you, and johnny’s sure a knife to the chest would hurt less.

"do not disappoint me, captain price, or your sergeant will regret it."

the video cuts to black.

the sight of your face is burned into johnny's retinas, every time he blinks your features are there, dripping in your own blood, the only thing he can see.

"kate, tell me you can find this." price growls behind him, his words sounding distant to johnny's ears.

she hums distractedly. "working on it."

their conversation doesn't register, floating in one ear and straight out the other. you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. it's like his prayers have been answered for once in his life, and it may be some cruel trick from god to find you like this but johnny finds himself praying his thanks anyway.

"johnny…?" simon lays a hand on his shoulder, turning him in his chair to make worried eye contact with his shell-shocked expression. it jolts him out of his thoughts, the energy of the room a controlled kind of frantic as he comes back down to earth.

"that's– it's them, they're–" johnny sputters, gripping ghost's forearm with an absent desperation in his glassy eyes, "simon, they're alive."

he can't stop thinking about how empty your expression looked, the way you didn't have any fight left, and the gravity of what's been happening to you since the moment he lost you slowly creeps up on him.

have you given up hope of them finding you?

"we'll get 'em back, soap, listen to me," price drops a heavy, grounding hand on his other shoulder, halting his spiralling train of thought, "they're comin' home." his voice is resolute, no room for argument where he speaks it almost like a command.

johnny can only nod.

his head is still light as more rushed conversation happens around him. simon's hand is still on his shoulder, and that might be the only reason he hasn't completely fallen apart yet, but the thread is pulling taught enough to snap. his nails carve dents into his palms but he doesn't have the mind to unfurl them.

"sir, we've got a hit." gaz speaks up from where he's leaned over kate's shoulder, a determined glint in his eye when he meets the captain's gaze. johnny’s head snaps in his direction, his pulse quickening with every word that sparks new hope in his chest. "two hundred klicks northeast of where we found the laptop."

"good work, you two," price is pacing back and forth, scratching his beard with a calculating look on his face. they watch him for a moment, waiting for his command on what their next move will be, but johnny finds his patience wearing incredibly thin.

"the fuck we waitin' for? let's get out there'n go after the wee bastards!" he growls, his narrowed gaze darting between price and the others as he steadily grows more and more restless.

simon shakes his head from beside him, "hold your horses."

"this is delicate, we have to do this one right." price pauses, his eyes losing their hardness as he meets johnny's desperate face. "i know how much this means to you, but you're too close to this, soap."

the pause that follows that is so thick with tension it makes it hard to breath. a boiling type of rage bubbles up in his chest, extending to every trembling limb and turning his vision red. there was no way in hell he wasn't going to be there for you every step of the way when – not if – they rescued you.

"ye can get yersel' right tae fuck!" he spits, his face contorted with anger as he shoots up from his chair and points an accusatory finger at the captain. "that's too far, price, ye cannae keep me outta this!"

"johnny, sit down." simon warns, using the hand still on his shoulder to put some space between him and price, but johnny doesn't budge; this was far too important.

"yer aff yer heid, both of ye's! if ye won't let me come, i'll go mysel', ye fuckin' hear?" he growls, shaking free of simon's hand. his glare travels between him and price, hands wound into fists at his sides.

the air turns heavy as they stare each other down. if price thinks he'll back down on this, johnny would love nothing more than to prove him wrong.

he's moments away from meeting his fist to price's face when gaz stands up and gets between them. "that's his other half, sir. respectfully, he deserves to be part of this." he reasons, giving price a firm look and a small nod to johnny. "you'd be the same in his position."

the tension is palpable. he watches over gaz's shoulder as the captain deliberates, clearly having an internal battle over the decision, but eventually he sighs and fixes johnny with a stern look.

price closes the distance between them, patting gaz on the arm as he passes. "screw your head on, mactavish. we only get one shot at this, i need to know i can trust you not to fuck it up."

a spark of hope makes johnny's heart race, and he gives price a single resolute nod of confirmation. "i won't, sir."

laswell stands and walks around the table to stand beside price, a similarly firm expression. "we have to play this carefully. they wanted us to find that laptop, i have no doubt they wanted us to find where they are too."

"so what's our angle?" gaz asks.

laswell and price share a look.

"this has to be off the books, there's no way we'll get clearance for this." laswell answers, her expression turning noticeably darker, looking over to price as she continues, "if we want them back alive, we'll have to act fast. that means we're on our own."

the captain nods with no hesitation. "we are getting my sergeant back. i don't care how we have to do it."

they're loading into the back of a helo not even an hour later. the five of them, along with two field medics and the pilot, with the strict instructions in johnny's head to bring you home or to not come back at all.

there's only one coherent thought racing through his mind for the entire; you. getting you back, taking you home, finding the man that took you away from him – and hurt you – and making him pay.

he fishes your tags out of his pocket and presses them to his lips in a lingering kiss, just like he always does. soon, he thinks, it would be you he'd be kissing, not just a remnant of you.

the flight passes by so quickly it's almost as if he'd blinked and they were landing again.

the air is glacial as they ready themselves, preparing for the mask to put up a fight that they fully intend to win. the plan was decided on during the journey; kate and ghost would provide support from a distance while price, gaz, and johnny would confront the bastard head on. his focus is razor sharp, marching through the trees and underbrush, blood rushing in his ears and jaw clenched painfully tight.

the sky is just as strikingly blue as the day he lost you.

bring you home, or don't come back.

they reach a break in the trees, surrounding the small facility they tracked the video to that looked more like a derelict warehouse than a base. either way, the dark figure of their target is visible against the brick wall, surrounded by a number of his own soldiers – johnny counts six as he, price, and gaz make themselves known coming through the treeline. they share a quick look; they know how this will end.

"well met, captain," the mask calls, slowing to a stop and leaving a few metres of space between himself and the three of them, "will you make the right choice, or will your sergeant suffer for your pride, i wond–"

his monologue is cut short by a shot from the darkness of the treeline and lodging mercilessly into the base of his throat. his deadweight hits the ground with a thud that echoes, and in less than a second bullets are flying.

soap tightens his grip on his gun, raising it to glare down the sights and firing at the soldier nearest to him and dropping him with one well placed bullet to the leg and another to the face once he was on the floor.

another shot from the treeline drops one more; four left.

gaz and price take out another two between them in a similar fashion to soap, leaving two still standing – one of whom was advancing fast with the barrel of his gun pointed at soap while the other backed away.

one more shot rings out from the trees and one more body falls, but the last hostile was far too close for comfort now, johnny had no choice but to tackle him to the ground, narrowly avoiding being shot himself on the way down.

a few seconds pass as they wrestle on the ground, both trying desperately to gain the upper hand but falling just short because of the other. from his peripheral soap can see price running to his aid, but his momentary distraction allowed his assailant to take the upper hand and roll on top of him.

hands constrict around his neck, cutting off his airflow, but a well timed shot from price sends him falling over sideways, sputtering blood from the wound in his side.

soap heaves and cough, pulling air back into his lungs and glaring at the body of the man who almost got the better of him. this only meant they were one step closer to getting you back; he was one step closer to having you in his arms again. it didn't matter if he got hurt in the process.

price's outstretched hand suddenly appears in his vision, "get up soap, we've got a job to do."

his daze melts away and he takes the captain's hand, allowing himself to be pulled upright with an affirming nod shared between them.

"good aim, ma'am." gaz calls over the radio, looking down his nose at the steadily declining state of the mask; his infamous facade now cracked and broken, revealing the agonised face beneath.

"bring 'em home, boys." kate replies, and though he can't see her face johnny can imagine the commanding look she's undoubtedly wearing.

gaz backs away as johnny crosses the mess of crimson and dirt to where the mask lays, sprawled out and immobilised by his injuries but still very much alive, giving the fellow sergeant a respectful nod as he goes. "he's all yours, mate."

johnny stands over his fading form, watching with a detached look in his eye as the blood spills from the gaping wound in his neck with every struggled breath, his disjointed intake of air and the pathetic sputters as he inhales his own viscera. there's not a shred of mercy in him as he gazes down at the man, every bit of agony was completely deserved for what he did to you. the death that claws at him would be a blessing.

he gurgles to johnny, raising a weak arm to brush the hem of his trousers as he attempts to expel the words, "pl–ea– plea-se–"

johnny scoffs, dry and venomous. he has half a mind to leave him to suffer until the life finally bleeds from him, but the pure rage he feels listening to this bastard plead for help after putting you through hell for a year is far too strong for him to restrain.

it's unconscious, the way johnny's arm raises to point the barrel of his pistol squarely at the centre of his forehead. he pauses for a moment, if only to see the fear creep into the bastard's expression before his fingers squeeze the trigger and the light is gone from his eyes.

his chest stops heaving and his hand drops back to the mud, leaving nothing but a few bloody fingerprints in his wake.

johnny pulls the trigger again.

and again, and again, and again, until his face is nothing more than a cavity of gore and lead and the ringing in his ears blocks out everything else around him.

a firm hand comes down on his shoulder and it’s only then does he notice the tension in his muscles and the fierce sneer pulling at his features. his eyes snap to the dark figure in the corner of his vision, meeting the bone white of simon's mask and the frown underneath.

"that'll do, johnny." simon murmurs, his own darkened eyes glaring down at the mangled corpse laying at their feet. he nods, somewhat absently, and turns away from the offending body.

there were more important things he needed to keep his head on straight for.

neither him or simon spare the remains of the mask another glance as they leave him behind. price and gaz are waiting by the entrance for them, and as soon as they're close enough they head together into the dark corridors of the building.

as the creep through the abandoned building, now deep in the cold basement, weapons poised and on high alert, there's a new sense of dread that forms in the back of his mind; what if you're not here after all? what if the mask was bluffing and you're already dead?

johnny grits his teeth and shakes his head to rid himself of that damning train of thought. he couldn't afford to think like that, he wouldn't, but another corridor of empty rooms has his heart sinking like an anchor to his stomach. he's trying to stay hopeful, but every dead end only makes him feel worse.

price grips his shoulder, firm and comforting, with a look in his eye to match as he catches johnny's gaze. "we'll find 'em, soap."

"i know." he replies, but there's a waver in his voice despite the certainty of his words. price doesn't release his gaze or his shoulder until he moves to follow the others.

he doesn't say much else as the search continues. the ringing in his ears is back, amplified by the eerie silence of the halls. he can feel the air getting colder after each empty room the clear.

the time passes arbitrarily, until there's one last room to check. johnny watches gaz and ghost pry it open, the sound of the lock breaking only just reaching him through the fog over his senses.

gaz pauses once the door swings open, his eyes locked onto something in the room as they widen dramatically. he still doesn't tear his gaze away as his jaw falls open, something frantic in the way he yells, "soap!"

a spark of hope strikes his heart and travels to the very ends of his limbs, a new burst of energy filling him as he shoves past his teammates to stand in the doorway and look into the room himself.

it's you.

curled into yourself in the corner of the damp cell, shivering with your face buried in your knees with your hands clamped over your ears. it's almost uncanny, how small you look. the tremble in your limbs, the fear in your quickened breaths, it was the exact opposite of how you should be, but despite it all…

it's really you.

johnny feels his heart swell painfully with relief, and without another second of hesitation he's skidding to his knees beside you and gripping the cold skin of your wrists. you let out a muffled sob at the contact, and johnny feels his blood turn cold when it meets his ears.

"don't!" you cry, weak and desperate. johnny's caught off guard with how you try to rip yourself away from him, the shakes that wrack your body only increasing when he keeps his hold on you. "get off! please– please don't!"

his heart cracks anew at the distress in your hoarse voice. he feels his eyes well up with hot tears that he has to fight to keep from falling.

"hey, it's me! it's johnny, it's your johnny! look at me, sweetheart, i'm here!" he tries to calm you with his words, keeping his voice low between you both, but you keep your eyes screwed tightly shut.

johnny lets go of your wrists to cup your face in his hands instead, gently turning your head towards him and using his thumbs to stroke soft shapes into your cheeks. the gesture makes your breath hitch audibly, and your eyes slowly open to meet his. "that's it, I'm here, i got ye, yer alright."

"don't– i don't– i can't…" whatever you're trying to say is broken up by the effort it takes you to keep breathing through your sobs. you still try to lean away from his touch, but johnny doesn't let you move far. he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his own breakdown.

"no-one's gonna hurt you again, darlin', i promise ye." he murmurs, searching your glassy eyes while he continues to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your face, wet with your tears. "c'mere, i've got ye…"

with little more resistance from you, johnny gathers you into his arms and presses you close to his chest, they way he'd been dreaming off all the time you'd been apart. he pays no mind to the way the hard ground digs into his knees, and instead focuses on feeling the rise and fall of your ribcage against his own, your heartbeat under his fingertips, and the very real sound of your voice.

"you– j-johnny…" you stutter, your hiccuping sobs gradually fading away as you grip the bulk of his vest like a lifeline. "are you… real?"

"i'm real, darlin'," his voice cracks despite his efforts to stay strong for you. he presses his lips to the tip of your head in a lingering kiss, partly so you won't see the glossy tears in his eyes as he tries to stamp them down. "i'm here. i swear, i'm never lettin' you out of my sight again."

the simple feeling of your weight leaning against him is so overwhelming he's worried he might faint. he lets you calm down, rubbing soothing patterns up and down your arms and back and wherever he can reach, even when the position becomes uncomfortable and the dampness from the floor has seeped into his bones.

eventually though, he does pull back, softly shush you when you protest in the thought that he's leaving you, and cups your head in his warm hands.

"let's get you home, eh?" he smiles. your uncertain eyes dart between his for a moment, searching, before you nod. it's weak and hesitant, but the gesture makes his grin stretch a little wider all the same. "c'mon then, think ye can walk?"

johnny sighs when you shake your head, looking down and seeming almost embarrassed by your frail condition as if any of this was your fault. if he could kill that bastard again, he wouldn't even hesitate.

it's no bother to him to haul you up with him, holding you carefully against his chest with an arm under your knees and the other around your back. you still gingerly grip the top of his vest, your free arm looping itself around his neck and pulling yourself as close to him as you can muster. he gives a concise nod to the others, crowded in the doorway, and they begin the trek back to the helo.

the sunlight causes you to bury your face in the crook of johnny's neck, shielding your eyes from the blindingly bright rays. he allows himself a moment of distraction as they cross the clearing to revel in the feeling. he'd feel the sun on his face again, but he'd never again take for granted a single moment he spends with you.

they're almost to the edge of the clearing, almost departed from that haunted place with a graveyard of mangled bodies in their wake, but he doesn't quite make it to the treeline.

a single gunshot echoes through the clearing and before any of them can react, the shell has found its mark in johnny's leg. the force and shock of it sends him tumbling to the floor, scrambling through the blossoming pain to brace his fall on his arms so he won't land on top of you.

there's yelling, returning fire, but johnny can only focus on covering your body with his own, shielding you from any harm that might find you. even through the agony travelling up his thigh, even when the air is still again, and even when his own eyes are threatening to follow yours in falling shut and succumbing to the weakness that drags him down.

when did you shut your eyes? johnny slips his hand under your hand, grunting in his chest as his weight shifts, and to his horror his fingers come back red.

no, no no. he only just got you back, he cannot lose you again.

he doesn't even register that he's shouting – for help, a medic, something – until his weight is being heaved over ghost's shoulder and you're being taken by price, the cracks in his stony expression only fuel the sick dread making its way up johnny's throat.

back in the helo, in no time but he doesn't remember the journey, he tries to push the medic away who starts working on his leg, slurring for them to help you first. they ignore him, obviously, and if he had any energy left he would've berated them for not listening. ghost holds him down as they secure the tourniquet, and as his vision finally begins to fade, he turns his head to the side so you can be the last thing he sees as he slips into unconsciousness.

for once, he doesn't dream of you.

there are no images of your body, laying motionless under the rubble. he sleeps in blissful oblivion, his head completely silent, and wakes a day and a half later feeling more rested than he ever has despite the wound in his leg.

simon is by his bedside when he finally opens his eyes. it's late, the room dark apart from the fluorescent light bleeding in from the gap under the door and simon's phone highlighting his balaclava. he notices the moment johnny turns his head to watch him, because of course he does, and reaches over to turn on the lamp on the side table without a word.

"mornin', lt…" johnny mumbles, voice hoarse and eyes heavy as he pushes through the tiredness clinging to his senses to sit up in his bed. the light is abrasive to his eyes, but he blinks through the sting and manages a lazy smile towards simon.

"evenin', more like." he replies, a trace of humour in the way his eyes lift at the corners. "been asleep nearly thirty-eight hours."

johnny baulks at that, suddenly feeling a lot more awake from the cold shock that passes through him. "thirty–? jesus wept, i need'ta–" he sputters, wide-eyed as he throws the blankets from his legs and starts to get up, "i need'ta see 'em, how–"

before he can get his feet on the ground however, he's pushed back by simon's hand on his chest, forcing him to sit back and acknowledge the pain radiating from his thigh.

"they're fine, johnny." simon tells him, punctuated with a roll of his eyes before he continues, "been in and out of consciousness, but they're stable."

johnny sighs deeply, relief flooding through his body as he slumps back against his pillows. you're okay, you're alive, you're here, and you're home and safe. his thoughts have already begun racing and despite how much his wounds are aching, he's already set his mind to how he's going to see you as soon as possible.

as if sensing his plotting, simon leans forward to catch his gaze and even through the mask johnny can see the look he's sending him.

"i'm goin' back to bed, so don't do anythin' stupid." simon begins, pushing himself to stand using the arms of his chair and narrowing his eyes as he leans even closer. "if you rip these stitches, i'll put 'em back in myself, clear?"

"crystal, lt." johnny nods, and simon holds his stare as one last warning before he turns to leave – but not without giving him a firm pat just below his bandages that makes him wince, feeling the silent threat behind the gesture as he watches simon exit silently out into the hall.

johnny swings his legs over the side of the bed the second the door swings shut again, a sharp intake of breath following the movement as his weight shifts. surely he could get to where you are without making his wound any worse, he hard could it be?

he makes it two doors down before he realises that this might've been a bad idea. the muscles of his thigh burn and his breath comes out in heavy, stuttered huffs, but despite the strain on his injured body he refuses to give up before he's seen that you're okay with his own two eyes.

the fourth door he peeks through is where he finds you, the sight of your sleeping form instantly overpowering the pain in his leg. he shoulders open the door and beelines in a limp to your bedside, his gaze never once leaving your face until he's close enough to grasp your hand in a slow, featherlight touch like you'd disappear if he made a wrong move. you don't react as he strokes your knuckles, but johnny is more than content to just sit with you, perched on the edge of your bed and taking in the way your breath fills your lungs, the gentle thrum of your pulse under his fingertips on your wrist.

time passes easily like this, until the minutes have gone by and he can find the strength to lift himself into the bed beside you, snaking his arm around your neck and shoulder to hold you close as he settles in, careful not to agitate any of your own injuries.

"i missed you, my love," johnny whispers, dragging his fingers up and down your arm, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, "i missed you so much…"

your fingers twitch in his hold, the steady rhythm of your breathing hitching as a shaky sigh leaves you. johnny freezes, his hand stilling on your bicep and his eyes growing wide.

"john–" the sound of his name passing your lips pulls him out of his shock, and he pulls back to watch your eyes twitch and flutter open. your voice is raspy and still weak, but not even an angel choir could sound sweeter to him. "johnny…?"

"i'm here–" his voice breaks, but he continues anyway, "i'm here, i got ye." he murmurs, careful to keep his voice low despite how much he wants to cry from joy. "how ye feelin'? you comfy, sweetheart? any pain?" he asks, shifting the both of you to sit against the pillows and keep you nestled against his side.

"i'm okay–" your hoarse response is interrupted by a cough that devolves into wet hiccups, your hands curling tightly into his shirt as you look up at him, "it– am i– it's–"

"shushsh, i'm here darlin', i've got ye." he coos, his eyes welling up to match yours, resuming his soothing touch over your arm. you stay like that, for minutes that could've been hours, gazing into each other's eyes while you softly cry and johnny comforts you.

it aches him to see you cry, but he can't help but awe at how beautiful you still manage to be, with cuts and bruises and tears littering your face. his heart swells in his chest with the love he holds for you.

your hand finds its place on johnny's cheek, your staggered breaths calming down at last. he covers it with his own to feel more of your skin on his. a wince crosses your expression as you try to lean up towards him, but he stops you before you hurt yourself any further and leans his forehead against yours.

you pull his face even closer, digging your fingertips into his cheek in an almost uncomfortable sensation, before brushing your lips against his in something like disbelief. "am i dreaming?"

"no, my love," he utters against your skin, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, nudging your cheek with his nose, "this is real."

your breath hitches again when he closes the little space left between you and presses his lips to yours, encapsulating you in a kiss that holds every ounce of desperation he's been holding on to. it's passionate, all-encompassing, and it reminds him of the first time he kissed you all those years ago. your free hand travels up to his hair, tangling the longer strands around your fingers and drawing a groan from deep in his chest.

he's reluctant to let you when you pull away for air, tasting the salt from your last stray tears as he chases your lips.

"say it again…?" you ask in a murmur, your eyes fluttering open again. the look you give him, one of pure hope that you won't suddenly wake up alone, it makes johnny's heart miss a beat.

he squeezes your hand, turning slightly to leave a kiss on your palm. "it's real, bonnie. i'll die before i ever let you go again."

your mouth opens to say something, but you stop yourself just before you can choke the words out, fresh tears building in your eyes again. johnny gives you an encouraging nod, holding your gaze while you muster the courage to voice what you're thinking.

"i–" you begin, your words catching on a lump in your throat, "i watched you leave without me, i had to watch the helicopter disappear and, and you…" your voice fades, eyes darting between his while they gloss with unshed tears once again.

"sweetheart…" he frowns, his heart breaking anew from the anguish that he never wants to hear in your voice.

you swallow thickly, your hold on his hair tightening ever so slightly. "i thought– i didn't think you'd ever find me…"

"i'd always find you." johnny replies, his resolute tone leaving no room for argument. he touches his forehead to yours again and lowers his voice to continue, "even if i had to go tae the ends of the earth, i'd never stop lookin' fer you."

his words release the fresh tears you've been holding back, and with a quiet sob you drop your face to the crook of his neck, gripping his hair and face tighter still. johnny softly shushes you, rocking the two of you back and forth as much as he can with you held close in his arms.

"you're staying with me tonight…" your voice is muffled, spoken into his neck and sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. a comforting nostalgia follows your words, one he can't help but chuckle at.

"would'nae have it any other way, darlin'."

#soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #mw2 x reader #mw3 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #roosterr writes

806 notes · View notes

imthesilentwriter · 3 months ago

Text

The Sleepovers

Harry Potter x Wolfstar!Daughter!Reader

Summary: You have sleepovers with Harry; however, you start to suspect something is up when you notice things either before, during, or after your sleepovers. That is, until you figure it out why you have them.

Warnings: mentions of blood and bruises (let me know if there is any more I need to add)

Authors Note: This is the longest oneshot I've written so far - it's also the first one in the "Pre-Hogwarts" section (how exciting). I would like to thank everyone for their support on my previous posts, it makes a world a difference to someone like me, who just loves to write. So, without further a due, enjoy this fic... excuse the 8 thousand words word count :)

Word Count: 8334

Navigation | Masterlist

You notice something is different when Lily comes to pick you up from your home, instead of your dads dropping you off at Harry’s. Maybe you’ve always noticed something, or maybe you’re just starting to pick up on it now.

Here you are, standing in front of your dad, Remus, who is lying on the couch, his arm draped over his eyes. You’ve seen him like this before, the way his body seems heavy, and his face is scrunched up with lines that make him look tired, but there’s something more today. A pain etched deep into his skin that makes your chest feel tight.

He huffs out a breath, a sound you recognize, one that only escapes him when he’s frustrated. It’s a sound you’ve heard more often when your sleepovers are planned. Your little four-year-old brain can’t quite wrap around why, but you know something is bothering him, something that always happens when you’re getting ready to stay over at Harry’s.

You keep standing there, watching him, as he stays curled on the couch. His breaths are heavy, and a small part of you, deep inside, screams at you to make it stop. You want to help him, to take away whatever is hurting him. But you can’t, and you know that. You’re not sure why, but you just know.

With soft footsteps, you step closer, standing near his head. You reach out a small hand and place it gently on his forearm, your fingers barely brushing his skin. “Dad?” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it cuts through the quiet.

Remus hums in acknowledgment, but doesn’t move, so you pat his arm gently, trying again. “Are you okay?”

Slowly, he pulls his arm away from his eyes, revealing the soft, kind hazel eyes you know so well. But today, they’re different. He looks at you with love, but the pain is still there, sitting behind his gaze like something heavy he can’t put down.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m fine,” he says, his voice quiet and tender, but you see it – how the corners of his mouth don’t lift like they usually do, how his shoulders stay tense, even when he tries to smile.

You tilt your head, thinking carefully before speaking again. “You don’t look okay,” you say simply, and for a moment, his shoulders stiffen, like he’s been caught.

Before he can answer, there’s a knock at the front door. The sound pulls both of you out of the moment, and Remus glances toward the door. “Lily must be here,” he says, swinging his legs off the couch and sitting up.

But when he stands, a groan escapes him – low and quiet, but enough to make your heart hurt. He’s moving slowly, like each step takes more effort than usual.

He looks down at you as he struggles to straighten up. “You’ve got everything?” he asks, trying to sound casual as he walks to the door.

You nod, holding your little bag close to you. “Yes,” you say, “Daddy made sure everything was in my bag.”

Remus gives you a small, tired smile and opens the door. Lily stands there, smiling softly at both of you. “Hi, sweetheart,” she says, waving at you with her gentle, familiar warmth. Her eyes flicker to your father briefly, and you notice the way her smile falters, just for a second.

“Ready for another fun night with Harry?” Lily asks, kneeling down to meet your eyes, but there’s something in her voice, something you can’t quite place. It’s the same way she always talks to you, but today, it feels different. It feels like she’s trying to hide something.

“Yeah,” you say, though your mind is still on your dad. You glance back at him, watching as he leans against the doorframe, looking so tired, so worn.

Lily stands up and gives him a look, one that you don’t understand, but you know it’s important. “Take care of yourself, Remus,” she says quietly, and your dad just nods, his hand gripping the door a little tighter.

“Have a good time, sweetie,” he says to you, his voice softer now, like he’s trying to put everything into those few words.

You feel a lump in your throat as you give him a small wave. “Bye, Dad.”

Lily takes your hand as you walk away, but as you look back one last time, you see him standing there, still leaning against the door. And in that moment, your little heart knows something.

You might not understand it yet, but you know there’s something more. Something your dad is going through, something that makes him hurt, and somehow, you just wish you could fix it.

The second thing you notice, that makes you believe something is up, is when James, Harry’s dad, leaves for the night without taking any of his belongings.

You’re sitting on the living room carpet with Harry, carefully stacking brightly coloured wooden blocks into a tall tower. You hear the sound of pots clanging from the kitchen where Lily is cooking dinner, her humming mixing with the sizzling sounds of food.

The room feels warm and cozy, but something in your chest still feels off. You’ve been thinking about your dads all day, wondering why you’re still here instead of back home with them.

That’s when you hear footsteps coming down the hall. You look up just in time to see James entering the living room, fully dressed to go out. His coat is on, and his shoes are laced up tight, but there’s something odd about him – he’s not carrying his usual things. No bag, no wand holster, nothing.

“Hey, kiddos,” James says, his voice a little lighter than usual as he kneels beside you and Harry. He ruffles Harry’s messy hair, earning a giggle, and then glances at you with a quick smile. “What are you two up to?”

Harry points to the tower, his green eyes wide with excitement. “We’re building a super tall tower, Dad! Look, it’s taller than me now!”

James chuckles, reaching out to steady the wobbling blocks. “Impressive, mate. Just don’t knock it over too soon, yeah?”

But you’re not paying much attention to the blocks anymore. You’re watching James, your eyes narrowing as you notice the way he glances toward the door, like he’s in a hurry to leave. Something about it feels… wrong.

“Where are you going?” you ask suddenly, looking up at him with curiosity.

James straightens up, looking a little surprised by your question. “Just out for a bit. Got some things to help your dads with.”

Harry tilts his head, his playful smile fading. “Are you going to work?” he asks, his voice small.

James shakes his head quickly. “Not tonight, buddy. Just helping them out.”

You frown, your chest tightening with confusion. “But… why didn’t you bring your things? You always take your bag when you leave.”

James gives you a soft smile, though there’s something behind it you can’t quite place –something that makes your stomach twist. “This time’s different,” he says, brushing a hand through his hair. “I won’t need them where I’m going.”

You don’t like that answer. It doesn’t make sense. “But… when are you coming back?”

James kneels down again, this time looking you directly in the eyes. His expression is softer now, but there’s something serious underneath. “Not for a little while,” he says quietly. “But don’t worry, you’re in good hands. Lily’s got everything under control, and we’ll see each other soon.”

You nod slowly, but the worry in your chest doesn’t go away. If everything is fine, why does it feel like James is leaving in a hurry? And why didn’t your dads come to get you?

Lily appears in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she says with a smile, though her eyes flicker briefly between you and James. “You heading out now?”

James stands, giving her a quick nod. “Yeah, should be back by morning.”

He ruffles Harry’s hair one last time and gives you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You two behave for Lily, okay? And don’t stay up too late.”

Harry grins up at him. “We won’t, Dad!”

But you stay quiet, still watching him carefully. There’s something about the way he moves, the way he glances at Lily, that makes you think they’re not telling you everything.

As James heads toward the door, you call out again, your voice small. “Are my dad’s, okay?”

James pauses at the door, his hand on the knob. For a second, you catch a look on his face – something like worry, but he quickly covers it with another smile. “They’re fine, kiddo. Just busy, like I said. Don’t worry, everything’s alright.”

And with that, he’s gone. The door clicks shut, leaving you sitting there with an uneasy feeling you can’t shake. Harry is already back to stacking blocks, his giggles filling the room, but you can’t stop thinking about James’s hurried exit – and why he didn’t take anything with him.

The third thing that makes you believe something is up when you’re told you’re staying an extra night. This isn’t normal. Sleepovers are supposed to be one night, and you’re confused. And, frankly, a little upset. You want to go home. You miss your dads, and you don’t understand why you can’t.

“No!” you shout, crossing your arms over your chest as Lily tries to guide you upstairs to get ready for bed. “I don’t want to! I want to go home!”

Lily kneels down in front of you, her eyes soft but tired. “Sweetheart, I know you’re upset, but you’re going to stay with us just one more night. You and Harry can have lots of fun tomorrow, okay?”

But you don’t feel like having fun. You feel angry, and a little scared, even though you don’t know why. You shake your head hard, your pigtails bouncing. “I don’t want to stay! I want Dad and Daddy!”

Behind you, James is struggling to get Harry into his pyjamas, Harry giggling and wiggling away like it’s a game. But you’re not laughing. Your eyes are stinging, and your throat feels tight.

Lily sighs and gently touches your shoulder. “It’s alright, love. Your dads will come pick you up tomorrow. They’re just busy tonight.”

Busy doing what? Busy without you? That makes you feel worse.

“No!” you shout again, your bottom lip trembling. “I don’t want to stay!”

You stomp your foot, the sound echoing through the hallway. James glances over, eyebrows raised. “Hey, it’s okay, kiddo,” he says, standing up after finally wrangling Harry into his pyjamas. “We’re going to have a cozy night, and then your dads will be here before you know it.”

But you don’t want a cozy night. You want your dads, and no matter what James or Lily say, it doesn’t make sense why you can’t just go home now. You can feel your chest tightening, the tears threatening to spill.

Lily looks at James, and for a moment, you catch the look they share, something silent and serious. It makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t explain. It feels like they’re hiding something.

“I don’t want to stay,” you mumble again, your voice small now as the tears spill over.

James walks over to you, kneeling down until he’s eye level. His hands gently rest on your arms. “I know, kiddo. I know you miss your dads. But they’re gonna be here tomorrow. You’re safe with us, alright?”

You shake your head, a few sobs breaking free as you bury your face in your hands. “I want them now,” you cry, your small body trembling with the force of your tears.

James pulls you into a hug, rubbing your back soothingly. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispers. “You’re gonna see them soon. I promise.”

But it’s not enough. You cling to him, your tears wetting his shirt as you cry, still wanting your dads. You don’t understand why you can’t go home, why this sleepover isn’t like the others.

Lily watches for a moment, her face full of concern, before gently taking Harry’s hand. “Come on, Harry, let’s go brush your teeth, alright?” she says softly, guiding him toward the bathroom. Harry looks back at you, wide-eyed, as he lets Lily lead him away, but you’re too upset to notice.

James holds you a little longer, whispering gentle reassurances into your hair. “It’s okay to be upset,” he says softly. “But you’re gonna be alright. We’ll do something fun tomorrow, okay?”

You sniffle, wiping your face with your sleeve, but don’t answer. James pulls back slightly, looking at you with those kind, patient eyes. “How about we read a story before bed? That might help.”

You don’t answer right away, but after a moment, you nod, still feeling the ache of missing your dads but too tired to fight anymore.

Once you’re in Harry’s room, you sit on the bed, still sniffling and sulking while James helps you into your pyjamas. Harry comes bouncing back from the bathroom with Lily, looking much happier than you feel. Lily sits beside you, tucking you both in.

“Harry picked out a story for tonight,” Lily says, holding up a book with a picture of a forest on the cover.

You glance at the book but don’t say anything. Harry wiggles excitedly under the blankets. “It’s about a werewolf!” he announces, like it’s the most exciting thing ever.

Your eyes narrow, and you frown. “I don’t like werewolves,” you mutter, turning away, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

Lily pauses for a second, glancing at you before opening the book. “Well, let’s give it a try. Maybe this one’s different,” she says gently.

She begins reading, her voice soft and soothing as she tells the story of a little boy who gets lost in the woods and meets a werewolf. But the werewolf isn’t scary – he’s sad, because he’s all alone, hiding from everyone because they think he’s a monster.

You shift a little, your frown deepening as you listen. Harry is listening intently, his big green eyes wide with curiosity.

“And then,” Lily continues, “the little boy realizes that the werewolf isn’t dangerous at all. He’s just a person, like everyone else. He just needs someone to understand him.”

You peek out from under the blanket, your brows furrowed. Something about the story makes you feel strange inside, like you’ve heard something like this before, but you don’t know where.

By the time Lily finishes the story, you’re quiet, staring down at the blanket in your lap. You don’t feel so angry anymore, but now there’s something else – something tugging at your chest, something you don’t quite understand.

“See?” Lily says softly, closing the book. “Not all werewolves are bad.”

Harry grins up at her, his thumb already in his mouth as he snuggles into the pillow. You, however, don’t smile. Instead, you look at Lily with a small, hesitant frown.

“Are… are there real werewolves?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lily hesitates, her hand still on the book, before nodding slowly. “Yes, there are. But just like in the story, not all of them are bad.”

You think about this as Lily kisses both of your foreheads and turns off the light. You’re not as upset now, but you’re not sure why. You feel like there’s something more you’re not being told.

The fourth thing that makes you suspicious is when, during one of your sleepovers at the Potters’, you can’t sleep. So, you sit on the couch, your small legs tucked underneath you as you stare out the window.

The house is quiet, everyone else already asleep, but the full moon is hanging heavy in the sky, casting a pale glow over the yard. It feels bigger tonight – brighter too – and you can’t take your eyes off it.

Your bunny is clutched tightly in your arms, and though you know you should be sleeping, you just…can’t.

The soft creak of footsteps pulls your attention away from the moon, and you glance toward the kitchen just as James walks in. He’s rubbing his eyes, his hair even messier than usual, and you can tell he’s still half-asleep. He fills up a glass of water, and as he turns, he notices you sitting there, wide awake.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says quietly, walking over to the couch. “What’re you doing up?”

You shrug, hugging your bunny closer, your eyes flicking back to the window. “I couldn’t sleep.”

James raises his eyebrows, glancing out the window as if to see what has you so distracted. He sits down next to you on the couch, his presence warm and comforting, and takes a sip of his water. “Staring at the moon, huh?”

You nod, your eyes fixed on the glowing orb outside. It’s strange how something so far away can feel so…close.

James watches you for a moment before asking, “Wanna talk about it?”

You hesitate, biting your lip. There’s been something on your mind for a while now, something that doesn’t make sense, but you don’t know how to say it without sounding…weird.

“Why do I have sleepovers with Harry once a month?” you ask suddenly, your voice small.

James blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“Every month,” you say softly, finally looking up at him. “Why do I always stay here once a month?”

James pauses, glancing at the moon again before turning his gaze back to you. “Oh, well, you know… It’s just something we started doing, right? You and Harry are best friends, and your dads sometimes need a break, so we figured why not make it a tradition?” He smiles, but there’s something in his eyes, something that feels like a lie.

You just nod, accepting his answer, but deep down, it doesn’t feel right. It’s not the truth, but you’re too tired to push any further. Instead, you hug your bunny a little tighter, staring back at the moon as it seems to glow even brighter.

James clears his throat, gently ruffling your hair. “How about we head back to bed, huh?”

“I’m not tired,” you mumble, shaking your head. Your eyes are heavy, but your mind is still wide awake, thoughts swirling too fast to let you rest.

James just nods, not pushing you. “That’s okay,” he says softly. “We can sit here a bit longer if you want.”

You don’t say anything, but the quiet is nice. The two of you sit there together, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock and the faint rustling of the leaves outside.

After a while, James speaks again, his voice gentle. “How about you come sleep with Lily and me tonight? You’ll get some rest with us, I’m sure.”

You hesitate, glancing up at him. “I don’t know…”

“Just for tonight,” he adds, his smile reassuring. “I think it might help.”

Reluctantly, you nod, and James sets his glass down, standing up and holding out a hand to you. You take it, letting him guide you toward the bedroom. As you follow him down the hall, you can’t help but glance back at the window, the full moon still hanging there, watching you.

You don’t understand everything yet, but one day you will. For now, though, you climb into bed between James and Lily, her arms wrapping around you as she murmurs something soft and soothing. And slowly, despite everything, you start to drift off, the warmth of their presence easing you into sleep.

The fifth thing you notice – that makes you generally terrified – are the fresh cuts and bruises on your dad’s back.

You didn’t mean to snoop, not at first. You were just wandering down the hall, minding your own business, when you heard quiet voices coming from your parents' room. The door was slightly ajar, just enough for you to hear bits of the conversation.

Normally, you’d keep walking – you know you’re not supposed to eavesdrop – but something about the low, serious tone of your dads’ voices makes you pause. It’s like they’re trying to keep their words quiet, like they don’t want you to hear.

And that’s exactly why you stop, holding your breath and creeping closer to the door.

From where you’re standing, you can just make out the edge of the room, your dad Remus sitting on the bed, his back turned toward the door. You’re about to step away when something catches your eye – something that freezes you in place.

His back… it’s covered in bleeding cuts and dark bruises. Some of the cuts are still fresh, red and angry, the blood just barely dried. The bruises are large and deep, spreading across his skin in painful purples and blues. You feel your stomach twist with fear and confusion. Why is your dad hurt? Where did he get those injuries?

Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart pounds in your chest. You want to ask. You want to burst in and demand to know what happened, why your dad looks like this, but you don’t. You can’t. Something in the air feels fragile, like if you interrupt, the whole world will shatter.

So instead, you just watch.

“Hold still, Moony,” Sirius murmurs, his voice gentle but firm. He’s kneeling in front of Remus, carefully tending to the worst of the cuts. You can see the worry etched into his face, the way his hands shake just a little as he presses a cloth to the bleeding wounds. “This one’s deeper than last time…”

Last time?

Your eyes widen as you piece together what you’ve heard. This has happened before? But how? Why?

Remus winces as Sirius presses harder, and you see him close his eyes for a moment, jaw clenched in pain. “It’s fine, Pads,” he says softly, though his voice is strained. “Just… finish up. We don’t have much time before she gets back.”

Before you get back. They don’t know you’re already here.

You feel frozen in place, torn between rushing in to help and staying hidden. Questions race through your mind – how long has this been going on? Why didn’t you know? Why didn’t they tell you?

James said he was helping your dads. He said everything was fine, but how could it be fine if Remus looks like this?

You swallow hard, your throat tight with fear. Your mind can’t make sense of it. What could possibly hurt your dad this badly? You’re scared to know the answer, but you’re also scared of not knowing. The room feels too quiet, too heavy with secrets, and you feel like an intruder in your own house.

As you stand there, the fear mixes with guilt. You shouldn’t be watching this. You shouldn’t be here. But you can’t tear yourself away, no matter how badly you want to.

Sirius finishes bandaging Remus’s wounds, his face tight with frustration. “You can’t keep doing this, Remus,” he says, his voice quieter now, but sharp. “She’s going to notice. You know how observant she is.”

Remus sighs, his head hanging low. “I know. But what choice do I have?”

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning you don’t understand. Sirius stands, his hands on his hips, shaking his head like he wants to say more but doesn’t know how.

You step back, heart racing, feeling like you’ve just witnessed something you were never meant to see. Tears begin to prick at your eyes as you back away from the door, heart pounding.

You didn’t understand what was happening, but it was enough to make your chest ache, and your throat tighten with fear and confusion. You shouldn’t have been listening. You shouldn’t have seen the cuts, the bruises.

You turn and walk quickly down the hall, your small feet padding softly against the wooden floor as you make your way to your bedroom. Tears are already spilling down your cheeks by the time you reach your bed, and you throw yourself onto the mattress, curling up into a ball as silent sobs shake your body.

You don’t want to cry. You don’t want to feel scared. But you do. And the tears keep coming, even though you press your face into the pillow, hoping to muffle the sounds. Why is Dad hurt? Why didn’t anyone tell you?

The questions keep swirling around in your head, but they have no answers. You’re left feeling lost, scared, and alone.

After a while, you hear a soft knock on your door, but you don’t move. You keep your face buried in the pillow, your body trembling with quiet sobs. The door creaks open, and you hear the familiar sound of footsteps.

“Princess? I’ve been looking for you,” comes Sirius’s gentle voice, soft but tinged with concern. You don’t answer. You can’t. All you can do is cry.

His footsteps stop near the bed, and you can feel him hesitating. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says, his voice closer now. “What’s wrong?”

You sniffle, trying to stop the tears, but it’s no use. You don’t want him to see you like this, but you can’t hold it in any longer. You feel the mattress shift as he sits beside you, and his hand gently touches your back. “Hey, hey… it’s okay,” he murmurs, sounding worried now. “What’s going on?”

You don’t respond, just cry harder, your body shaking as you curl up tighter. Sirius’s heart seems to skip a beat, and he quickly scoops you up into his arms, holding you close to his chest as he stands. “Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” he whispers, swaying gently as he holds you, his voice soft and soothing. “It’s alright, princess. You’re safe.”

You cling to him, your tears soaking into his shirt as you bury your face against him. His arms are warm and strong, and he holds you like you’re the most important thing in the world, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as he sways.

“Daddy…” you finally manage to whisper through your sobs, your voice small and broken.

“What, princess?” he asks gently, his chin resting on top of your head as he continues to rock you.

“I want Dada…” you sniffle, your tears still falling as you cling to him.

Sirius’s heart aches at the sound of your broken voice. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and murmurs, “Okay, love. Let’s go see him.”

He carries you out of your room and down the hall, your little arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you continue to cry softly into his shoulder. He pushes open the door to the bedroom, where Remus is lying in bed, his face pale and tired, though he sits up a little when he sees you.

“She’s upset,” Sirius says quietly, looking over at Remus with worry in his eyes. “She wants you.”

Remus’s face softens, and he opens his arms as Sirius gently sets you down on the bed beside him. You crawl over to him without a word, wrapping yourself around his arm as if holding on to him will make the fear go away. His skin is warm and familiar, and despite the cuts and bruises you saw, he still feels like your dad.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Remus whispers, his voice gentle as he strokes your hair. “I’m here.”

You don’t say anything, but your sobs quiet as you nestle closer, your small body trembling less with each passing moment. You can feel Remus’s steady heartbeat under your cheek, the familiar rhythm calming you even though the fear still lingers.

Sirius sits on the edge of the bed, watching with concern, but you barely notice. All you want is to be close to your dad, to make sure he’s still here, still okay.

Eventually, your eyes grow heavy with exhaustion. The weight of everything – the fear, the confusion, the tears – finally pulls you into sleep. Your small fingers are still wrapped tightly around Remus’s arm as your breathing evens out, soft and steady.

Remus exchanges a quiet look with Sirius, his tired eyes full of gratitude and sorrow as he watches you sleep. He holds you a little closer, his hand resting protectively over yours.

“Sleep well, my love,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. And for now, with both your dads by your side, you do.

You’ve been acting strange. Everyone can see it, even if they don’t understand why.

It started off small – little changes that only your dads seemed to notice at first. You wanted to help Dad, Remus, with everything. Holding his hand when he walked, carrying things for him even though they were too heavy for your little arms. You were always there, hovering near him like you were scared he’d disappear if you didn’t keep him close.

But then, it got more intense.

You didn’t want to be held by Sirius anymore. Whenever he’d try to scoop you up, you’d shake your head and squirm away, making a beeline for Remus. Always Remus. You’d cling to his legs or lift your arms up toward him, begging to be carried. Even when Sirius tried to join in the bedtime routine, you’d edge away, making sure you were tucked into Remus’s side instead.

At night, you refused to sleep in your own bed. You’d crawl into your dads’ bed, nestling between them. But you always pressed yourself as close to Remus as possible, your tiny body clinging to him like a lifeline. No matter how much Sirius coaxed or joked, you wouldn’t budge.

It was confusing. They didn’t know what was going on – why you were suddenly so attached, so desperate to be near Remus all the time. They tried to ask, but you couldn’t find the words to explain. You couldn’t tell them about what you saw, the cuts and bruises on Remus, the ones he tried to hide but you had noticed.

Now, it’s another night, and you’re at the Potters’ house for your monthly sleepover with Harry. But things aren’t the same.

You’re in Remus’s arms when they arrive at the Potters’. You haven’t let go of him all evening, your small arms gripping his neck tightly, your face buried in his chest. Sirius stands nearby, looking concerned but trying to keep things light. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he says gently, stepping closer, “time to go with Lily.”

But the moment Remus moves to set you down, something inside you snaps. You cling tighter, shaking your head fiercely. “No! No, I don’t want to! Dada, please!”

Your voice comes out high-pitched and frantic, tears already filling your eyes. Remus freezes, exchanging a startled look with Sirius. You’ve never reacted like this before. “What’s wrong, baby?” Remus asks softly, pulling you back against his chest. His voice is gentle, but you can hear the worry in it.

“I don’t want to leave you,” you sob, shaking in his arms. “Please don’t go, Dada, please!”

Remus tries to soothe you, rubbing your back and murmuring soft reassurances, but you’re beyond comforting now. Sirius steps forward again, trying to coax you gently. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re safe here with Lily and Harry. We’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

But when Sirius reaches out to take you from Remus, you kick out, struggling against him with more strength than anyone expected. “No! No!” you scream, your tiny fists gripping Remus’s shirt, your cries turning into a desperate wail.

It takes both Sirius and James to gently pry you from Remus’s arms. You’re thrashing, kicking, your little face red with tears and frustration. “Dada, please!” you keep crying, over and over, like it’s the only thing you know how to say.

Remus’s heart shatters with every sob. He kneels in front of you, his hands trembling as he reaches out to touch your face, but he knows there’s nothing more he can do. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers to you, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

But you don’t want promises. You want him. You continue to cry, your arms reaching out for him even as Lily finally steps in, wrapping you in a soothing embrace. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she whispers softly. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be alright.”

Remus looks like he’s about to say something – maybe that he should stay behind – but Sirius shakes his head, his face filled with pain. “We don’t know what’s gotten into her,” he says apologetically to Lily. “This... this isn’t normal. We’re so sorry.”

Lily shakes her head, her tone calm and firm. “It’s alright, really. She’ll be okay. I’ve got this.”

Reluctantly, Remus lets Sirius and James pull him away, but he keeps looking back, his face pale, his eyes filled with sadness. You keep screaming, reaching for him as they finally leave, their figures disappearing into the night.

Once they’re gone, you collapse against Lily, sobbing into her shoulder. She holds you tightly, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back, whispering soft words until your cries slowly start to quiet.

Even after you’ve calmed down, you refuse to leave her arms. Throughout the night, you cling to her like you did with Remus, not wanting to be put down, not even when it’s time to eat or play with Harry. Lily doesn’t force you. She keeps you close, holding you until you finally start to grow heavy in her arms, exhaustion from your earlier meltdown catching up with you.

Bedtime comes and goes. Thankfully, Lily managed to get you to sleep in Harry’s bed with him – though not without a bit of negotiation.

It started with you sitting cross-legged on the floor, arms crossed over your chest, your lower lip sticking out in a pout. “I’m not tired,” you muttered, glancing toward the window as if expecting your dads to come back any second.

Lily knelt in front of you, her voice soft and patient. “I know, sweetheart, but it’s late, and Harry’s already in bed. Don’t you want to keep him company?”

You shook your head, looking away. “I want Dada.”

Lily sighed, sitting back on her heels, thinking for a moment. “How about this? If you go to bed now, I’ll read you your favourite story. And tomorrow, we can make pancakes for breakfast. You love pancakes, right?”

You hesitated, eyes flicking toward Harry’s bed where he was already fast asleep. “...With chocolate chips?”

Lily smiled, sensing victory. “Of course, with chocolate chips.”

You uncrossed your arms slowly but still didn’t move. “What if I have a bad dream?”

Lily’s heart softened, and she reached out to gently touch your cheek. “If you have a bad dream, you can come right into my room, okay? I’ll leave the door open, so you can come get me anytime.”

That seemed to be enough. Reluctantly, you stood up, clutching your stuffed animal tightly to your chest. “Okay,” you said softly, your eyes still glancing toward the door, but this time you let Lily take your hand and lead you to Harry’s bed.

As she tucked you in beside him, you held onto her hand for a moment longer, your small voice barely above a whisper. “Promise you won’t leave me?”

Lily leaned down and kissed your forehead. “I promise, sweetheart. I’m just in the next room.”

Satisfied, you finally settled into the covers, snuggling up next to Harry. Your eyes stayed on Lily as she pulled the blanket up over your shoulders, but when she smiled and whispered goodnight, you closed them, holding onto the comfort of her promise as sleep began to take over.

But it’s not long before, after Lily’s put you to sleep, that you wake up. Your small voice breaks the silence of the night. “Lily?” you whisper, standing in the doorway of her bedroom, clutching your bunny to your chest.

Lily sits up, blinking sleepily. “What is it, love? Did you have a bad dream?”

You nod, your lip quivering as you clutch your bunny tighter. “Can I sleep with you?”

Her heart softens instantly, and she lifts the covers without hesitation, inviting you in. “Of course, sweetheart. Come here.”

You crawl into bed beside her, snuggling into her warmth, and for a moment, everything feels okay. But as you settle down, you glance out the window and see the full moon hanging in the sky. It’s big and bright, and for a moment, you just stare at it, your small brow furrowing.

“Lily?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?” she hums, brushing a strand of hair from your face as she watches you.

“Why is the moon so big?” Your question sounds innocent enough, but there’s something deeper in your tone – something Lily can’t quite put her finger on.

She glances out the window at the moon, its silver light casting shadows across the room. “That’s just how it looks when it’s full,” she explains gently, her hand still resting on your cheek.

You nod slowly, but the quiet lingers longer than usual. Lily thinks you’ve fallen asleep as your breathing starts to slow, the rustling of the blankets the only sound in the room. But then, in the stillness, your soft whisper catches her by surprise.

“I know about Dad.”

Her heart skips a beat, and she looks down at you, confusion and concern written all over her face. “What do you mean, sweetheart? What do you know?”

You hesitate for a moment, your small fingers twisting the fabric of your bunny’s ear. Then, in the same tiny voice, you whisper again, “I know he’s a werewolf.”

Lily’s breath catches, her heart aching for you. She sits up slightly, pulling you even closer, her arms wrapping around your small body. “Oh, sweetie,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head. “Is that why you didn’t want to leave him tonight?”

You nod, your face pressing against her side, and your voice is muffled when you finally speak again. “I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Lily holds you tighter, her own heart breaking at how much you’ve been carrying inside. “Oh, love,” she whispers, her fingers gently stroking through your hair. “Your dad is very strong, and he has Sirius and James with him. They take care of each other, and they’ll always come home safe to you.”

You sniffle, your grip on your bunny loosening just a little as her words sink in. “But… I saw him. He had cuts and bruises.”

Lily’s heart squeezes painfully at your confession. She stays quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond. “I know it must be scary,” she says softly. “But your dad is always going to come home to you, no matter what.”

You look up at her, eyes wide and filled with worry. “Promise?”

Lily nods, her hand gently cupping your cheek. “I promise, sweetheart. Your dad loves you so much, and he’ll always be okay.”

You don’t say anything else, but after a few moments, you burrow closer into her, the tension slowly leaving your little body. Lily continues to hold you close, her heart aching for the weight of the secret you’ve been carrying.

Eventually, your breathing evens out, and Lily thinks you’ve fallen back asleep. But just as her eyes start to flutter shut, you whisper one last thing.

“Thank you, Lily.”

Her eyes well up with tears, but she swallows them down, pressing another kiss to your hair. “You’re welcome, love. Now get some rest, okay?”

And with that, you finally drift off, safe in Lily’s arms. The full moon outside continues to shine, but for now, you feel just a little bit more at peace.

When you wake up in the morning, Lily holds true to her promise – pancakes with chocolate chips! The smell fills the kitchen, and you sit on the bench, legs swinging as you watch her expertly flip each pancake in the skillet. The kitchen is warm, sunlight streaming through the windows, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.

Just as Lily finishes the last batch, the front door creaks open, and you turn your head to see James, Sirius, and Remus walk in. Your heart skips when you notice Sirius leading a kind of hurt-looking Remus toward the couch, his arm around him protectively. Remus looks tired, pale, and a bit wobbly on his feet.

“Morning, love,” James says as he steps into the kitchen, planting a kiss on Lily’s cheek. He flashes you a grin. “How’re my two favourite girls doing?”

“Good,” you reply quietly, but your eyes stay fixed on the living room, watching Sirius fuss over Remus, guiding him gently to sit on the couch.

You try to hop down from the bench, but it’s a little too high for you to manage on your own. Without a word, James notices and comes over, lifting you down with ease. “There you go, kiddo,” he says with a wink.

You don’t waste a second. As soon as your feet hit the floor, you run straight to your dad, Remus. He barely has time to brace himself before you fling your arms around him, giving him the biggest hug you can manage. “Dad!” you say, your voice muffled against his chest.

Remus lets out a soft laugh, though it’s a bit strained. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you sit in his lap, clinging to him like you’re never letting go.

Sirius watches the two of you from the side, hands on his hips, and he lets out a dramatic sigh. “Where’s my hug, huh?” he jokes, feigning hurt.

You giggle, still snuggled in Remus’s lap. “You don’t need a hug, daddy, you’re fine,” you tease, glancing at him with a cheeky grin.

Sirius raises an eyebrow, stepping closer with a mock pout. “Fine? Me? Do I look fine? My heart’s breaking over here!”

Remus chuckles softly but says nothing, his hands gently brushing through your knotty hair.

You roll your eyes playfully at Sirius. “It’s just because… Dad’s special.”

Sirius snorts, eyes twinkling. “Special, huh? What, am I chopped liver? Come on, sweetheart, where’s my special?”

You giggle, glancing over at him, then say without thinking, “You don’t get one ‘cause you’re not a werewolf.”

The room falls into a sudden, heavy silence. All the adults freeze.

Sirius’s eyes go wide, his usual playful demeanour gone in an instant. “What?” he blurts out, looking between you and Lily, panic rising in his voice. “Who told her?”

Lily’s face pales as she stammers, “Sirius, she-”

“I figured it out,” you interrupt, your small voice cutting through the tension. “After last sleepover, when I came home, I saw Dada covered in lots of cuts and bruises.” You turn to Remus, your eyes wide and sincere. “I know you get hurt every time the moon is big.”

Remus’s arms tighten around you, his breath catching. He looks to the others, who are all standing there, unsure of what to say or do.

Sirius groans, running a hand through his hair, clearly distressed. “Merlin, Moony, I thought-”

“It’s okay,” Remus says quietly, his voice thick. He looks down at you, his expression soft, though there’s a sadness in his eyes. “She’s smart. She figured it out.”

James and Lily exchange a look, both unsure of how to handle the moment, but neither says a word.

You feel Remus sigh under you, his chest rising and falling heavily. He kisses the top of your head, brushing your hair gently. “You’re too clever for your own good, you know that?”

You just hug him tighter, as if holding on will keep him safe next time.

Remus’s arms remain around you, and he swallows hard before speaking, his voice soft but carrying the weight of everything unspoken. “I didn’t want you to worry about me, sweetheart,” he says, his words quiet but careful. “I hoped… maybe we could keep this from you for a little longer.”

You look up at him, confused. “But I already know, Dad. I’m not scared,” you say, your voice small but sure. “I just… I don’t want you to be hurt anymore.”

Remus’s face tightens, his eyes brimming with an emotion he’s trying to hold back. He glances at Sirius, who looks just as tense, before turning back to you. “I know you don’t, love,” he murmurs. “And I wish… I wish I could promise that I wouldn’t be, but…”

Sirius cuts in, his tone unusually sharp with worry. “We should’ve been more careful. I should’ve been more careful.” He’s pacing again, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Merlin’s beard, Moony, she’s too young to have to worry about – about this.”

Remus sighs, rubbing a hand over his face as he watches Sirius pace. “It’s not your fault, Sirius,” he says, his voice steady but laced with weariness. “It’s no one’s fault.”

Sirius stops in his tracks, his jaw clenched. “But we should’ve been more careful. I should’ve been more careful.”

Remus shakes his head, looking down at you still sitting by his side. “She’s smart. We can’t hide everything from her forever.”

Sirius opens his mouth to argue, but Remus cuts him off, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s not your fault, Padfoot. She was going to figure it out eventually.” He gives a small, tired smile. “And I’d rather she hears it from us, in her own way, than find out some other way.”

You pull away from Remus’s chest just enough to look at Sirius, his usual playful smile nowhere in sight. “It’s okay, daddy,” you say quietly, trying to offer him a smile. “I just wanna help.”

Remus rubs your back gently, shaking his head. “You don’t need to help, sweetheart. It’s not your job to worry about me.” He pauses, struggling to find the right words. “This… thing I go through every month, it’s hard, but I’ve been dealing with it for a long time. I don’t want you to be afraid.”

“I’m not,” you insist, your arms still clinging to him tightly. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Remus’s eyes soften further, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “I know, love. I know.”

From across the room, James speaks up, his voice gentler than before. “Kiddo, your dad is stronger than you realize. We’ve been with him for years through all of this, and we’ll always make sure he’s okay.” He exchanges a glance with Sirius, then adds, “And we’re going to keep you safe too, alright?”

You nod, but there’s still a weight in your chest. You glance back up at Remus, your mind racing. “But… why do I have to go to sleepovers every time the moon is big?”

The room goes quiet again, and you can sense the adults exchanging looks over your head. Remus shifts beneath you, clearly uncomfortable with your question. Sirius stops pacing, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s for your safety, love,” Remus says carefully, his hand brushing your hair out of your face. “Sometimes, when the moon is full, it’s… it’s better if you’re not around, just in case.”

“Because you’re a werewolf,” you state simply.

Remus stiffens, his jaw tightening. “Yes. Because I’m a werewolf.”

You study his face for a long moment, then nod, though something still doesn’t quite sit right with you. “But you’re not scary.”

Sirius’s voice cracks a bit as he lets out a strained laugh. “Oh, trust me, kid. He’s scary.”

Remus shoots Sirius a look, but you’re already shaking your head. “No, he’s not. He’s just Dad.”

Remus’s expression softens even more, and for a moment, he looks like he’s fighting back tears. “You’re too good to me, love,” he whispers, holding you close again.

The tension in the room seems to dissipate slightly, the weight of the secret hanging between all of you, but now out in the open. After a moment, James claps his hands together, trying to break the silence. “Well, now that that’s all out in the open… how about those pancakes?”

Lily, who has been quiet this whole time, steps forward with a soft smile, clearly relieved for a distraction. “Right. Pancakes.”

But before you can move, Remus tightens his arms around you one last time. “I love you, my clever girl,” he whispers, and there’s a warmth in his voice that makes you feel safe, no matter what the moon does. “Always remember that.”

You smile, squeezing him tightly. “I love you too, Dad.”

Remus gently helps you down from his lap, and as you straighten up, Sirius grins, holding his arms out wide. “Alright, now that we’ve had all the emotional stuff, where’s my hug? I may not be a werewolf, but I’m still pretty special, you know.”

You laugh, feeling lighter as you run over to him, wrapping your arms around him. “Okay, daddy,” you say, making Sirius groan dramatically as if your hug is squeezing all the air out of him.

“See? That’s better,” Sirius says, ruffling your hair with a playful smile. “Don’t let dad hog all the hugs.”

Lily’s gentle voice cuts through the moment, her smile soft but relieved. “Pancakes are ready, everyone.”

As you all start heading toward the table, James claps his hands together. “I’ll go grab Harry. Can’t start breakfast without him,” he says, flashing a grin before heading upstairs.

You turn to Remus, still feeling the weight of everything that’s been said. “Are you okay, Dad?” you ask softly, peeking up at him.

Remus smiles down at you, brushing a hand through your hair. “I will be, sweetheart. Especially with you looking out for me.”

You nod, the warmth of being surrounded by the people you love filling your chest. Together, you sit down at the table, the heavy secret now shared, but the bond between you and your family feeling stronger than ever.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x wolfstar!daughter!reader #lily evans #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar daughter #wolfstar #jily #oneshot #fluff #slight angst

199 notes · View notes

nonclassyparty · 11 months ago

Text

tins without labels - prologue (j.wy)

summary: Jung Wooyoung's life was always somehow intertwined with your own. from living in the same neighbourhood as kids to attending the same college; fights, bickering, bruises, teasing comments and tears. Wooyoung and you were never complete strangers but never friends either. Always somewhere in between, growing up with each other but never actually knowing one another. The relationship takes a confusing turn in your third year of college after an injury that places your football career on hold. Lonely, lost and confused, you find yourself at your first college party in the presence of none other than Jung Wooyoung asking him to show you what exactly have you been missing out on. playlist // my main masterlist // moodboard (tba) // click to donate to Palestine

pairing: jung wooyoung x reader warnings: none for this chapter i think! word count: 9.3k taglist: just reply or inbox me if u'd like to be added c: a/n: pls don't say damn when u see that i started another story. listen LISTEEEEEN. i know what u all will say..."bree should u rly be starting another series when u havent finished or started the 4757 bajillion ones that u already posted?" the answer is YES. let me explain myself briefly, this summer has been rly hard for me bc i lost someone who was incredibly important to me and i just can't write...i just can't! everything looks like shit!!! im halfway done with soot and something just isn't letting me continue. i can't write pretty on the outside or literally anything else i've started bc its all simply too sad. writing is draining to begin with despite how much i love and enjoy it but writing angst is k wording my mental health lol! so....i present to you this series, mostly dedicated to myself literally no one asked for this, i just feel like its something i need to write and always wanted to so here i go! it will be a little heartwarming series with lots of humor and coming of age shenanigans and huge chunks of it written from personal experience and i hope u guys read it and like it. i had a lot of fun writing this prologue. (p.s. i literally know jackshit about football/soccer so if by some chance someone that reads this knows their football shit....just let it go pls lmfaoo)

(prologue; when we were kids)

and I couldn't find the words, i couldn't think of what to say and all that I can do is stop and think about the days when all we used to dream about was meeting after school

6 and 8 years old;

Your mom helped you build the snowman.

An entire morning of running around your front yard, laughing and playing in the freshly fallen snow, seeing the air you breathe out in front of you that you pretended was cigarette smoke to make your mom laugh as the cold nipped at your cheeks.

The snowman was almost twice your size (which wasn't a lot, you were a fairly small child) with pebbles stuck in as his eyes and teeth pulled up in a big grin. Your mom found a small bucket in the old shed behind the house which she placed on his head as a makeshift hat and because you didn't have any carrots, there was a small twig stuck at the center of the snowman's face to serve as a long crooked nose.

(The snowman didn't have any arms, a detail that went over your head at the time.)

After admiring the big statue in the farther corner of your front yard for awhile, you finally retreated into the house with your socks wet along with the majority of your hot pink snowsuit. As you kicked off the damp clothes and exchanged them for warm, dry ones and fuzzy socks and then settled in front of the TV in the toasty living room with a mug of cocoa - you couldn't help but feel that it was a happy day.

Which is why when, in the late afternoon, once you looked out of your window to see what once used to be your snowman is now nothing but a big pile of disheveled snow with his plastic hat rolling around the sidewalk and two boys running away down the street with shrill laughter echoing after them, you simply couldn't help but burst into tears.

"Mommy!" You screamed out, running outside your front door in fuzzy socks and your sweater, as dramatic as you were. But you were six and your life still ended and began with coloring books and favorite toys, so a snowman that you made with your mom getting destroyed, surely felt like the end of the world.

Once your mom stepped out after you, about to scold you for walking outside into the cold air with no jacket on, you burst into crocodile tears as you pointed to the spot where your snowman once stood.

"Oh, no." She breathed out with a sigh before grabbing her jacket and slipping into whatever shoes were available by the door (they were your dad's old tennis shoes) and walking across the front yard to collect the small bucket from the sidewalk.

All you could do was stand and watch as you wailed so loudly after your snowman that the entire neighbourhood could hear.

"Honey, it's okay." Your mom tried to soothe you as she walked up the steps to your house, carrying what used to be the snowman's hat. "It's just a snowman, we'll make another one tomorrow!"

But you were inconsolable, bursting out in another wave of loud cries as you stomped your tiny foot and pointed to the house across the street.

"They ruined it! W-Wooyoung ruined it!" You sob, waving towards the boy's house with all the anger a six year old could possibly muster. You knew it was him, recognizing the ugly red jacket he wore this entire winter and his even uglier looking friend, Chanwook.

You weren't friends with Wooyoung. He was older than you and all of his friends were mean. You once tried to play with them when you first moved to the neighbourhood but they didn't want to play with a girl. You cried about that too.

They often teased you. Wooyoung said your crooked teeth made you look ugly!

She sighs again, "And that was very mean of him. But, Y/N, we'll just make another snowman tomorrow."

"But-" You start again, tears still sliding down your face.

"We'll build him in the backyard where we have a fence, so no-one will be able to touch him." She offers with a smile, hoping you'll finally be consoled enough to walk inside and be safe from the harsh cold.

"But I won't be able to look at him from the window." You tell her quietly, voice going hoarse from the crying and bottom lip already wobbling as another wave of tears began to sunk in. She gives you a sympathetic smile.

"We'll get him a prettier hat and we'll use two long branches to give him arms!" Your mom offers again, trying to butter you up so the tears would stop. "We'll get a carrot for his nose and big pretty rocks for his eyes!" Once she realized it was working, she continued; "And we'll take a picture of you with him so you'll always get to look at him, even when he melts away!"

You peer up at her with a hiccup, finally bribed enough; "A picture?"

She nods, holding the door wider for you to finally walk inside as you inch towards the door, fuzzy socks now soaked, "A picture. We'll send your dad to the mall to develop them."

So, you finally walk inside the warm house again, changing your socks and immediately going to your father's home office to pester him about the camera and just how long will it take for a picture to be developed.

"-Y/N, we'll just make another snowman tomorrow!"

Wooyoung heard your mom tell you as he peers at the exchange from across the street, through his bedroom window, freshly changed into dry clothes after a long hard day of playing outside with Chanwook and now, warming his frozen hands on the radiator.

When Wooyoung saw the snowman parked in the corner of your front yard, just a step away from the sidewalk, he and Chanwook thought it would be funny to ruin it.

The thing was ugly and had an even uglier bucket at the top of it's head, perfect to kick around the street!

He didn't think too much about it, if he was honest. Just saw a big lump of snow he wanted to kick at until it collapsed, so that's what Wooyoung did. It was just a silly snowman.

Besides, you were already six years old. Far too old to be making a stupid snowman. You should've been going sledding with the rest of the neighborhood kids on the small hill just a couple of minutes away from your street. Wooyoung was mature now, so his mom allowed him to go without a chaperone this year. You were always so childish, no wonder your mom didn't let you go with them. You cried over everything.

But he didn't expect you to cry over the stupid snowman!

It was just a snowman. It would've melted anyway when the weather got warmer! Or gotten ruined by someone else!

The brief fear of your mom telling Wooyoung's mom about what he'd done struck him. He'd positively get grounded for ruining your dumb snowman if she found out and then the rest of his winter break would be spent inside of the house.

You could always make another snowman. A better one. And since you're such a crybaby, Wooyoung would make sure to tell Chanwook that they won't be touching that one. Leave that ugly snowman alone.

Just so you wouldn't cry anymore.

10 and 12 years old;

"It's a shame your mother is dead, maybe if she was still around she would teach you how to act like a girl!"

Your face flushed in anger as you stared the other boy, Beomseok, his chubby fingers still wrapped around your pencil case which was how the argument started in the first place.

He was in the same class as you and a typical bully. Bigger than the rest of his peers and always using it to his advantage to intimidate and tease them. Today, he took your pencil case and when you asked for him to give it back, he only gave you a gnarly smile and started running around the classroom and eventually out on the halls, screaming taunts at you. It would be a lie to say that you didn't scream some pretty mean stuff back but in your defense, he deserved it.

Now, you both stood as if you're ready to duel as the rest of your classmates and even some upperclassmen gathered to see what the commotion is all about, your fury rising so high that tears spring in your eyes at the mention of your mom as you observe his smug smirk. Obviously, from a very young age, you were bad at managing your anger.

"I hate you!" You scream out, voice high pitched. Then you jump on Beomseok with your full weight, successfully pulling him to the hard hallway floors as your hands curled into tiny fists that started colliding with his face.

And Beomseok, for all his intimidating build, talked an awfully big game just to end up bursting into tears as your fist collided with his nose. He was bad at fighting, you notice, if he could be beat up by a lanky girl almost two times smaller than him.

"I just-" Punch. "-wanted-" Punch. "-my pencil case-" A slap. "-back!"

"Somebody help!" He screams from under you, whining under each attack but his classmates were too busy cheering you on to come to his defense.

Once you start harshly pulling on his hair, two arms wrap themselves under your armpits and pull you off of your classmate. You're standing again and are turned by your shoulders to come face to face with your teacher, screaming at you.

"Is this a proper behavior in school?!" and lots of "Your father will hear about this!"'s and "You're going to the principle's office!" as she started pulling you by your arm down the corridor that was still filled with students.

"Everyone to your classrooms! Now!" Your teacher screams from the top of her lungs as she tugs on you and you follow after her with a frown on your face.

Stupid Beomseok.

Wooyoung's stomach hurts from laughing, clapping Chanwook's shoulder who was almost sitting on the floor due to his own fit of pure glee, as he watches Kim Beomseok roll around the floor in pain, clutching his nose.

There's scratches and bruises already forming on his cheeks, little bit of blood mixed with a lot of big, fat tears. It's hard to feel even slightly bad for Beomseok, when Wooyoung heard how he torments his classmates along with the younger kids during recess. Did it count as bullying if the bully is the one getting bullied?

Maybe he finally got what was coming for him, nobody usually stood up to him and Wooyoung least expected you to be the one to put him in his place.

He deserved it, Wooyoung thinks, after what he said about your mom.

Wooyoung remembers her funeral three years ago, he remembers how much you cried and how you didn't leave your house for a month that summer. He even rung the doorbell to ask if you wanted to come out and play one time which he never did because you were a child and he was much more mature than you, you two had nothing in common. But he felt sad for you.

Your mom was nice, she always brought Wooyoung a chocolate when she'd come for a visit.

Sadly, they discovered she had cancer when you were only seven and Wooyoung was nine. By the time they discovered it, it was already too far along and your mom passed away on a summer evening while you were outside playing hide and seek.

Wooyoung remembers feeling so bad how they always made you the seeker that day because you were the youngest kid in the neighbourhood and far too easy to convince that it was simply always your turn to look for the other kids.

Your dad opened the door, smiling sadly at Wooyoung and saying that you weren't feeling well enough to come out and play. Wooyoung didn't try again after that.

The teacher is pulling you by your elbow through the crowd, yelling at the top of her lungs for everyone to head to their classrooms since class should start in a couple of minutes. You silently follow her, face twisted into an angry grimace.

Your hair has fallen out of your ponytail, long strands sticking to your face and Wooyoung is pretty sure that your shirt got ripped during the brawl.

Wooyoung might've been laughing a bit too loudly because with angry eyes and cheeks flushed, your head whips towards him just as you pass by him.

Wooyoung opens his mouth with a smile, to say something like "Good job, Y/L!" maybe. He doesn't get the chance to.

"What are you laughing at, Jung?" You ask loudly and Wooyoung's laughter immediately dies down.

"Wha-?"

And it's then, that your foot meets Wooyoung's shin in a harsh kick that makes him yowl in pain and makes Chanwook burst into another wave of laughter as his hands grab at Wooyoung who doubles over in pain.

"Y/N!" The teacher screams out again, pulling you back by your shirt and going on another rant, filled with threats of calling your dad to school and something else he can't process at the moment.

Wooyoung is too busy feeling the pain and anger that fills him up as he rubs at the place your sneaker covered foot meet his leg.

"Y/N, you psycho!" He yells after you who is still getting dragged away. You don't even bother to look back at him.

(He still collects your pencil case from the floor and throws it on a desk that a classmate of yours says belongs to you before exiting the classroom and going to his own. Wooyoung tells himself it's for no other reason but just so your dad won't have to buy you a new one. He has enough on his plate already.)

14 and 16 years old;

Wooyoung has a girlfriend.

You don't know why that's something that bothers you so much.

Maybe because you don't understand what a girl could possibly see in Jung Wooyoung to willingly let him hold her hand or...God forbid, kiss her. Ew.

That's a lie, maybe even a bad attempt at coping on your part because there's a general consensus in your high school that Jung Wooyoung is good-looking.

You didn't even think he was ugly when you were younger, when he was pulling on your pigtails and teasing you for playing with dolls. He was cute for an annoying kid back then too with his chubby cheeks and bowl haircut.

He was especially cute now, a recent discovery of yours which you have no one else to thank except puberty. It did wonders on your hormones and it did wonders on Jung Wooyoung too.

His jawline got sharper the more baby fat he lost and lips grew fuller. His boyish smile was very attractive, even his smile lines were captivating. Wooyoung grew taller as well, not by much compared to the other boys in his grade but he was tall just enough so you'd have to look up to him when you argue but not enough to be intimidated by him.

So, yes, you supposed you'd understand the appeal if it weren't for his stupid mouth and mean words more often than not, directed at you. You threw shots back as well, sometimes even started an argument first if you were feeling particularly annoying but maybe that sums up why you're so bothered.

He started dating Chaeyoung at the beginning of this summer and since you have the fortune (read: misfortune) of living in the house right across the street from Wooyoung's, you were an unlucky witness to most of their dates.

And he was so sweet to her. He'd buy her cheap flowers and ice cream, they'd walk around the neighbourhood holding hands, they'd take Wooyoung's younger brother Kyungmin to the playground in the evenings. Wooyoung would smile a lot at her and Chaeyoung would always smile back.

You even saw them kiss. Just once.

When you were folding laundry in your bedroom, you looked through the window just in time to see their lips connect on Wooyoung's front porch. You quickly looked away, feeling shy and embarrassed, not understanding why you were blushing or feeling so sad all of a sudden.

Why was he so nice to other girls but never to you? You shouldn't think too much about it, the problem isn't you. Chaeyoung wasn't just some other girl but his girlfriend. Of course, he'd treat her special.

Whatever. You scoff as you watch Chaeyoung run to Wooyoung across the quad as you adjust your sports bag over your shoulder.

She jumps into his arms and you can hear his loud, annoying laughter even to here as his arms wrap around her and he picks her up from the ground.

"What are you doing?" You almost jump out of your skin at the sound of Ryujin's voice as she nosily tries to follow where you were staring at.

Ryujin was the first friend you met since you started high school two weeks ago. She might be the only friend you have for awhile since you haven't really been trying to even get to know your classmates as you were too busy trying out for the girls football team.

You don't remember when you started actively playing football exactly. You always played it for fun with the boys from the neighbourhood (Wooyoung included) but maybe it was around seventh grade when your dad pestered you into trying out a sport because he didn't know what else to do with you so he packed you up and sent you to a sports camp for two weeks one summer, that you started actually playing.

You went there only caring about your iPad and came back saying you'll be a professional football player.

Your dad doesn't want to say it but you know he thinks it's a fickle dream that will fizzle out with age.

Thankfully, Ryujin shared the same love for the sport as you so for now, you were relieved and content to spend time with her. She was nice.

You didn't need anyone else but maybe it would've been nice if someone who was older, who you were familiar with even if you always fought, would give you a couple of words of useful advice. Regarding the new teachers and subjects and all.

High school was scary.

"Nothing." You answer quickly, turning your back to Wooyoung and his girlfriend and fully facing your new friend.

"Nothing?" Ryujin gives you a suspicious smile, eyes darting over your shoulder once more before she ruffles your hair. You yelp. "Do you have a crush already, Y/N?"

You gently shove her away with a huff, fixing your bangs, "Don't be stupid. These boys are all ugly."

A crush. As if!

She laughs at that, throwing her arm around your shoulder as she directs you both to the field where practice was held, already yapping about her own crush.

"Hey, isn't that your neighbour?" Chaeyoung nudges Wooyoung with her elbow, nodding somewhere behind Wooyoung. He cranes his neck to follow the direction before his eyes land on you.

He snorts, "Yeah."

You were standing in the middle of the football field, sweaty and red in the face from all the running, with your hands on your hips as you paid attention to what your coach was yelling towards your teammates across the field.

The school's jersey seemed far too big on your lanky form and your hair was a mess, always slipping out of your ponytail. You were much smaller in build than the rest of the team and it looked funny to Wooyoung.

He didn't expect you to be into sports, let alone a sport like football. In fact, Wooyoung is surprised that you don't burst into tears when you start arguing with the makeshift referee played by another student. It's what usually happens if you spend longer than a minute arguing with Wooyoung.

And then he ends up being the bad guy for making you cry but no one ever mentions that you sometimes provoke him first as well but can't take it when it's dished right back.

Since you're such a crybaby.

He watches with an amused grin as you bare your teeth at the referee, who is really just a senior that thought it would be a fun time but now he has to stand arguing with you. And to Wooyoung's further amusement, the older boy who is almost two heads taller than you, looks like he's about to shit his pants in front of you.

Hm. Maybe not such a crybaby when it's anyone else but Wooyoung.

"I think she has a crush on you."

He turns to look at his girlfriend with a confused look, growing further confused when she smiles teasingly at him.

"Who?" He asks and she gives him a knowing look before nodding in your direction again. Wooyoung splutters out a surprised laugh, "Y/N?"

"Yeah." She nods excitedly, giggling, "She's cute."

Wooyoung scoffs with an eyeroll, "She's a kid."

A kid who might have a small crush on Wooyoung but still, a kid nonetheless.

He'd be stupid to say he didn't notice that you sometimes stare at him a little too much but what the hell is he supposed to do about that. You just started high school, you probably weren't even aware of what you were doing. It was a childish crush because at the end of the day that's what you are - childish.

Chaeyoung giggles again, the sound is soft and sweet, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"It's kind of sweet." She sighs dreamily and Wooyoung snorts because nothing about you was sweet, "You're her handsome neighbour, the only guy who's always been close to her since she was a kid, she probably starts those childish arguments with you so you'd give her attention and then writes about you in her diary and-"

"Y/N is the last person to have a diary, first of all." Wooyoung interrupts with a snicker before looking down on his girlfriend who is teasing him, "Second of all, you sound ridiculous."

Chaeyoung lifts her head up from where it rested against him and looks at him seriously, her lips pressed together. Then she starts imitating Wooyoung's last sentence in a deeper voice that sounds nothing like him, "You sound ridiculous-ah!"

She squeals when Wooyoung pinches her at the waist lovingly and it turns to tickling her as he presses kisses to her cheeks.

As they continue to exchange kisses between hushed giggles, the conversation about you is forgotten.

18 and 20 years old;

From the moment you opened the door to greet your date, you knew that the whole night would be a complete and utter disaster.

Maybe you watched too many teen movies that romanticized prom night so much that even you ended up believing and looking forward to the glorified fantasy of it but boy, were you in for a rude awakening.

Your prom date was a boy from your Calculus class named Eunwoo.

To be completely honest, you were convinced for the entirety of your senior year that you wouldn't have a date for prom at all because not much has changed since freshman year.

You still had one good friend (two, if you count Ryujin's friend that says she likes hanging out with you) and your focus was always on football. Add schoolwork and keeping up your good grades and you truly didn't have much time left for socializing.

So when Eunwoo pulled you aside after your football practice and asked you if you wanted to go to prom together with a handsome boyish smile on his face, your excitement for that night skyrocketed.

Eunwoo wasn't exactly a friend but he was nice to you during class, maybe you were wrong but his niceness sometimes even bordered flirting. Already, you were daydreaming about a possible boyfriend to spend your last summer with before you start college.

With a date or without one, you spend the bigger portion of your senior year saving up money for prom night or should you say prom preparations.

Makeup was never your strongest suit, in fact, it wasn't a suit of yours at all. You never wore it. You never did your hair either.

Even on the rare occasion that you went to a high school party, you never wore anything else aside from jeans and T-Shirts. You were an athlete and you committed to the bit entirely, always being ready to sweat and opting for comfort of loose clothes above anything else.

But you wanted to look nice for prom, pretty. Not because of Eunwoo but for yourself. Prom is only once and you wanted to make sure you do it with confidence.

All your saved up allowance went on the hair and makeup appointment along with your dress that Ryujin helped you pick out. The dress was quite simple in your opinion, a dark red one with a square neckline held up by two thin straps that clung to your curves and flared out at the bottom.

With your hair pinned up in an up-do with two curled strands framing your face and glitter on your eyelids, you thought you looked very pretty, beautiful even. Hell, it was probably the best you looked in your entire eighteen years of life. You could even put up with the painful heels for the sake of it.

Your dad made you pose over the whole house while you waited for your date to pick you up. First a photoshoot on the stairs, then one on the front porch, then a little in front of the living room fireplace.

He seemed so excited with his camera hanging around his neck as he followed you around the house.

It was one of the moments you wished your mom was here for but nonetheless, it was much fun with your dad only as well. You were happy.

It all went to shit though once you opened the door for Eunwoo and he started laughing in your face.

"Oh my God!" He laughs, almost doubling over at the apparent hilarity of your appearance, "What are you wearing?!"

You laugh nervously, ignoring your father's glance at you from the sheer embarrassment, "What? Is it that bad?"

"No, no." Eunwoo shakes his head, wiping a stray tear that escaped while he was laughing, "It's just not like you, at all."

"Oh." You give him a sour smile, your fragilely built ego shattering completely. "I was just...trying something new I guess..."

He snickers with a headshake before offering you his hand, "Come on, let's go take a photo?"

After a small moment of hesitation, feeling your cheeks burn from the humiliation, you let him grab your hand and step out on the front porch. Eunwoo places a hand around your waist to pull you closer as you both smile at your dad's camera.

A couple of photos later, you both head towards Eunwoo's car as your dad waves you goodbye. You give him a small, almost sad wave back as Eunwoo opens the door for you. You ask him;

"Do I really look funny?"

"No, you look pretty no matter what." He answers, helping you with your dress. "It's just doesn't suit you I guess, it's not like you."

"Ah..." You say staring at the dashboard as you watch him round the car to get into the driver's seat. You glance back at your dad just to see him get back into your house and for a split second, you want to call the whole thing off and go back inside with him.

Of course this doesn't suit you. You were the girl guys dapped up in the hallways, the girl that was always covered in hoodies and sweatpants and never wore makeup. You must look stupid, all dolled up like this. What were you thinking.

Prom celebration is usually held at a hotel not far from your high school. The ballroom is enormous, with vast marble floors and high ceilings illuminated by golden, shimmery lights. It looks straight out a fairytale with colorful dresses worn by pretty princess and handsome princes in their extravagant suits. Only, you don't feel like a princess at all.

Eunwoo and you find your table and you briefly say hi to Ryujin and her date. Ryujin tells you how amazing you look and you give her the first (and possibly, only) genuine smile of the night.

"So," Eunwoo starts the conversation a few minutes after you settle down at your table with drinks, "Did you decide where you're going for college? Any scouts?"

"I'm leaning towards SNU. Their Women's Football Club is really strong and I feel like they actually get proper investments and budget." You tell him and he grins interrupting your next sentence.

"See, this is why I like you. It's hard to find a girl who knows about sports and is so chill about everything."

Your mouth stays parted, the rest of your sentence (which was really just saying that the fact the male football team was hot contributed to your decision as joke) went unsaid as his words registered. Every "compliment" Eunwoo gives you is starting to come off so backhandedly that you're beginning to realize that while he thinks he has you all figured out - he doesn't actually know you at all.

You give him a fake laugh and pray to God it doesn't sound fake enough for him to notice as you take a sip of your drink.

An hour later, your heels are killing you so much that you've completely given up on dancing. You observe Ryujin on the dance floor with her date, still going at it and sigh with the silent question of when it would be your turn. Instead, you're stuck to the sidelines with shoes that feel awful on your feet and a date that can't stop talking about how it's attractive that you're a "girl that actually eats". Eunwoo's compliments are becoming weirder by the second.

"Should I just take you home?" Eunwoo asks with an amused smile as he observes you taking off your heels for the tenth time since you sat back down.

"Ah, would you mind?" You give him an apologetic smile, feeling like a burden and a not-so-much-fun date, "I'm sorry, Eunwoo, this is unfair to you-"

"Nah, I had a fun time." He shakes his head, downing the rest of his drink, "Next time, just be yourself though, yeah?"

The weirdly phrased statement makes you pause. "What do you mean?"

"You know, you don't have to dress like this!" He laughs, playfully playing with the thin strap of your dress. You subtly move away from his touch. "It's not like you at all. I don't know if your friends talked you into it just to fit in but you shouldn't let them push you around like this."

He's so wrong that you can't speak for a moment but even if you could, you feel like trying to explain yourself to him would be far too exhausting and would lead to nowhere. Nor do you want it to lead anywhere anymore, if you were honest.

"Girls like that are so exhausting." He gives a tired sigh. "Outfits and makeup aren't the only thing in the world."

"Girls....like that?"

"You know! Like, the touchy-feely shit. Everything is about color-coordination and nail polishes with them. God forbid their hair is out of place. What a headache!" Eunwoo runs a hand through his hear before giving you an award winning smile. "That's why I'm glad I got to hang out with you! You're real."

"I'm....real?" You ask with a cocked head as your eyes start to narrow. He's too busy thinking that you like what he's saying so he continues.

"Yeah. You know, you keep it real. You're not caught up in that frivolous, girly bullshit. You're so chill, Y/N." He keeps smiling at you like he just gave you the highest form of compliment he possibly could.

But you can't bring yourself to crack a smile even if someone held a barrel of a gun to your temple at the moment. In fact, you feel like throwing up. You should've know from the start, from the moment he was so unreasonably impressed with your lack of makeup at the beginning of the year.

Eunwoo was one of those guys.

"Um," You slide your heels back on and grab your clutch, "You know what, you stay. I'll go."

"Wait, what." His brows raise in half confusion and half surprise as he watches you stand up from your seat.

"Yeah, I'll walk home."

"Wait, Y/N. Why would you walk home? I already said I'd drop you off-"

"No thanks. I don't want to get in a car with a sexist."

"What?!" Eunwoo reels back, "What the fuck are you talking about?! I'm not a sexist! I respect women!"

You huff, turning to him with a glare. "You respect women who are "cool" and "chill" and basically act like men. You should've just taken one of your dudes to prom if these are your opinions. I'm out."

So, that's how you find yourself in your pretty dress sitting in one of the plastic chairs of a convenience store with a popsicle in your mouth as you watch the cars drive by. You were too embarrassed to arrive home so early, you hyped up prom night so much to your dad - you'd rather lie and tell him you had a good time.

If the night couldn't possibly get any shittier, while you eat away at your cherry popsicle feeling undeniably sorry for yourself, you hear a familiar laugh followed by sounds of shoes scuffing against the pavement towards the convenience store.

Of course. Of fucking course, Jung Wooyoung would show up now, when you needed him least.

You try to make yourself seem as small as possible in the plastic chair, hoping he or his two friends wouldn't notice you (which in retrospect was a dumb hope, you were sitting right by the entrance in a fucking prom dress).

Ever since Wooyoung graduated high school two years ago, you only saw him in passing. He'd come home for Christmas holidays or a week or two during the summers and you'd only catch him skunk out of his house and into his dad's car if you were lucky. Unlucky, that is of course.

Maybe you were hoping he wouldn't even recognize you and although it would kind of hurt (as embarrassing as that is to admit), you feel like it would be a better option.

But since you were on a roll tonight, obviously this is just another thing that doesn't go your way.

"Nice dress, Y/L/N." You hear Wooyoung's voice speak, followed by snickers from his idiotic friends and his own attempt at stifling his laughter as they walk past you and into the convenience store, the small bell above the door signaling their entrance.

That ends up being your last straw.

You don't cause another fight or yell something back after him, no, you don't have the energy to do that tonight. Instead, you feel like you will cry.

Tears are already burning at your eyes and your bottom lip wobbles, you're not even aware that your eyes follow Wooyoung through the display of the store, watching him as he picks up a pack of beer and heads for the cashier.

He got even more painfully handsome than he was when you'd see him every day before he graduated. His hair was double toned, the top of it black and the bottom strands bleached, brushing the nape of his neck.

You think you could even see a tattoo peaking under his shirt as he moves.

Jung Wooyoung was so not your type. Not that you really knew what your type was but all the guys that you found cute in your high school years were athletes, jocks who were organized and dedicated to their routine which in your opinion showcased their maturity, got good grades and were respected by their peers. Wooyoung was really the complete opposite of that so it was hard to explain why you so weirdly hung up over his approval.

He's still laughing about something with his friends, it would hurt so badly if it was about you, as his eyes dart through the display and connect with your own.

Wooyoung does a double take before his big smile slowly slips and dare you say, eyes soften as he looks at you and his lips part as if he wants to say something.

It could all be in your head though and you're feeling even worse now that he caught you staring at him like a total creep, so you throw your popsicle in the trash and get up with a sigh, slipping back into your heels and deciding to just go home.

"Hey, Y/L/N! Wait up, I'll give you a ride home!" Wooyoung calls out after you, the plastic bag swinging back and forth in his hand.

He can hear Chanwook's hushed objection which Wooyoung chooses to ignore, instead focused on walking closer to you. You couldn't make it far since you were basically limping in your heels.

"No thanks." Wooyoung hears your response and rolls his eyes. He hasn't spoken to you in the last two years at all but he can see that nothing has changed much - you were still too stubborn for your own good.

You didn't even bother to turn back and look at him, instead you hitch your dress further up and continue up the street and away from the convenience store.

"Y/N, come on. Quit being a brat and just wait for me to bring the car around."

"I said no!" You yell over your shoulder and let out a small yelp when you stutter a bit on your feet. To Wooyoung, you resembled Bambi right now.

"I'm trying to help you!" He yells back, still following you, "Just let me drive you back-"

"Wooyoung, seriously, fuck off!" You turn to face him with red cheeks and teary eyes (maybe that's why he's insisting so badly to drive you home, you simply look pathetic), "I don't need your fucking help!"

Wooyoung reels back at your tone and harsh words and then a wave of embarrassment washes over him when he hears Chanwook and Eunhyuk laugh behind him, at the fact that he just got told off by his little neighbour.

The embarrassment is followed up by anger that prickles at his skin like needles, he scoffs and if there's one thing Wooyoung will be - it's petty; "Fine! Limp home in your stupid heels then, see if I give a shit!"

You don't give him a response and Wooyoung doesn't bother to look for it either, instead turns around on his feet and heads towards his car (his dad's car). But not before telling a laughing Chanwook to shut the fuck up.

But once he's in the car with the keys in the ignition, he stares at the steering wheel in obvious contemplation before letting out a small groan, "Fuck."

Wooyoung turns to Chanwook, "Sit in the back, please."

His friend looks at him in surprise and confusion. "What?"

"Just sit in the back, will you? Please." Wooyoung repeats, avoiding Chanwook's eyes but feeling his stumped stare.

"Wooyoung, you cannot be serious." His friend laughs in disbelief as if reading his mind, looking around before giving Wooyoung another incredulous look, "She just told you to fuck off!"

Eunhyuk is quiet in the back which is a huge relief for Wooyoung, he really didn't need to defend himself to his other friend too.

"I can't let her go by foot in the dark, you've seen her! She can barely walk!" Wooyoung says defensively to both of his friends as Chanwook moves to the back with a huff.

"And that's your problem...how?" Chanwook, like the annoying pest he is, asks.

"It's not...." Wooyoung trails off, trying to look for an excuse as to why he was going out of his way to give you a ride home. "But...but her dad would kill me if he knew I saw her and didn't drive her back. It's only right."

Chanwook smacks his lips obnoxiously loud, "Sure."

Wooyoung doesn't even need to turn around to know that his friend is giving him a very bold side eye right now.

Eunhyuk snorts but doesn't say anything else. Wooyoung is thankful for that at least.

"She probably won't even want to get in the car." Chanwook comments quietly as they reach you on the sidewalk. He ends up being ignored.

Wooyoung rolls the window of the old car down so he can talk to you, he has to say you're walking at an impressively slow pace. "Y/N, get in the car."

He hears you groan dramatically from the outside, "Jung, you're not my dad. Stop telling me what to do."

Wooyoung ignores Chanwook and Eunhyuk's snickers in the back once again, he grows even more irritated, "I'll call your fucking dad right now and tell him you're walking home alone this late. How about that?"

You turn to him with your glossy lips twisted into a scowl, "You wouldn't."

Always ready to prove a point or in this case, lie straight out of his ass, Wooyoung makes a show of stopping his car next to the sidewalk and fishing his phone from the pocket of his jacket before opening up his contacts and beginning to scroll. He doesn't even have your dad's number.

But Wooyoung is a professional bullshitter so he keeps pressing random buttons with a straight face and presses the phone to his ear before turning to you with his brows raised-

"Okay, fine!" You exclaim with an angry huff and start rounding his car as your cheeks flush a pretty pink color. Wait, pretty-? You open the door and angrily plop into the passenger's seat with a glare directed towards him, "Fucking snitch."

Wooyoung ignores you, locking his phone without another word and beginning to drive away.

There's an awkward silence in the car, only sounds being made are those of the plastic bags filled with beer that keep rustling in Eunhyuk's lap.

"This isn't the way to our street." You say and Wooyoung might be crazy but you almost sound a little nervous at that. He glances at you before it dawns onto him. Of course, you'd be feeling nervous.

It's nighttime and you're in a car with three dudes older than you who you don't know that well. Wooyoung didn't even bother telling you about his plan before he started driving. A curse runs through his head before he clears his throat,

"I'll just drop these two off at a party nearby and then drive you home." He murmurs, chest constricting a little when he sees you cross your hands over your chest, a gesture which makes you seem smaller.

"Wait, wha-" Chanwook, gosh he was really pissing Wooyoung off tonight, starts from the backseat. "Woo, I thought you were going too-"

"I will." Wooyoung interrupts him with a clenched jaw as he pulls up to the house where the party is held, "I'll drop Y/N off and then come back, it won't take more than fifteen minutes. Now get out- Wait, give me that bag right there."

Eunhyuk hands him one of the plastic bags and Wooyoung fishes through it and pulls out two blueberry ice creams out of it before giving the bag back to Eunhyuk. Which he bought for himself, of course. Not because he saw your popsicle melting on the pavement or anything.

Chanwook watches with a dropped jaw before huffing, Wooyoung hears him murmur, "Doing it for her dad, my ass-"

"I'll be right back!" Wooyoung announces loudly, far too loudly, and Eunhyuk slams the car door shut so Wooyoung can drive away.

When he pulls away, the silence in the car is almost stifling so Wooyoung offers you the ice cream, "Here."

You look at him like a second head just popped out of his shoulder before looking back through the window and ignoring him completely. Wooyoung lets out a small groan. So stubborn.

"Oh my God, just take it." He says, placing the ice cream on your lap as he continues to drive. He bites back a smile when he sees you stare at the ice cream on your lap for a long second before grasping it and opening the wrapper so you can eat it.

Wooyoung really doesn't know what he's doing right now.

He doesn't know why he bought ice creams for you, he doesn't know why he insisted on getting rid of his friends first before dropping you off home, he has no idea why he keeps glancing at you every couple of seconds from the corner of his eye and he especially doesn't have a clue why he takes the longer route home.

When tomorrow comes and he wakes up hangover from the party and probably in someone else's bed, he'll give himself the same excuse he gave the boys. He wanted to make sure you got home safely because it's the right thing to do. There was nothing else to it.

But in this moment, right now, in the stifling silence and the breeze that flows through the opened window's because the air conditioning isn't working - Wooyoung notices things that he feels embarrassed to notice, or maybe he noticed them before but never allowed himself to appreciate them until tonight.

Like, how nice your bare neck and collarbones look now that your hair is pinned up in soft curls. A thin silver necklace graces your neck. Or how the two curled strands at the front frame your face prettily. Your eyelids are painted with something shimmery which Wooyoung doesn't know the name of and your cheekbones are a soft peach color intentionally placed there beforehand.

Your glossy lips wrap around the ice cream cone and you bite off a huge chunk.

"Why are you staring at me?" Wooyoung can decipher the question even through the mouthful of ice cream as you give him a slight glare.

Because you're pretty. Is what he wants to say, honest and bare, but he obviously can't because you're you and he's Wooyoung. "Because you have ice cream on your nose."

His hands tighten against the steering wheel when he sees you quickly look to the side and wipe at your nose self-consciously. You blush a scarlet red from the embarrassment. Great, now he feels like an asshole.

Wooyoung clears his throat, "Why did you look so sad? Back there, in front of the store."

He has no idea why he's trying to make conversation with you. You two never do that, never did. The closest thing to a conversation between Wooyoung and you would be the arguments you'd have in the middle of the school hallway when he'd tease you for your braces.

Those came off as well, by the way, he can see the pearly white teeth perfectly aligned now as you speak. No longer crooked. Maybe he'd like to see them pulled up in a smile but that's borderline wishful thinking now. You smiling at Wooyoung? Yeah, right.

"No reason." You tell him quietly, slumping in your seat as you continue to eat your ice cream. You sigh with an eyeroll, "Just...prom sucked."

Likely thing to happen.

The key is to go to prom with your expectations so low that you can only go up from there but Wooyoung had an inkling feeling that having low expectations wasn't in your nature.

Besides, you were a jock. He remembers even when you were a freshman, you were already running with the popular crowd without even being aware of it, with the athletes and the cheerleaders. Prom night is sort of a pinnacle of the high school experience for people like you.

Guess it's a bummer that you look like you had a shit time.

He hums, "At the end of the day, it's just another Friday night. Nothing special. So even if it sucked, you'll get over it."

Maybe he wasn't the best at giving advice or comforting people.

You side eye him and he pretends not to see it before you quietly add, "I don't usually spend a year worth of allowance on just another Friday night."

Wooyoung cracks a smile, teasing you being a second nature even if you barely spoke since he graduated, "What? Did you expect a prince charming to sweep you off your feet so you two can dance the night away or something? I didn't know you were into that corny shit, Y/L/N."

He hears you scoff, cheeks still red as you roll your eyes, seriously annoyed, "Whatever. Forget I said anything."

Wooyoung's gives a forced snicker just to annoy you before his smile drops again and his eyes flutter shut for a moment out of pure frustration at his own stupidity, internally cursing himself. If shooting yourself in the foot was a person - it would have Jung Wooyoung's photo and name posted under it.

Why can't you just be nice to her?

The air in the car turns even more awkward and Wooyoung shifts uncomfortably in his seat while you continue to eat your ice cream in silence as you stare through the window.

He slows down in front of your house just when you're finishing your ice cream.

You crumple the wrapper in your hand, place the second ice cream on the dashboard and grab the small bag laying on your lap before grabbing the door handle.

"I hope," Wooyoung starts and when you turn to look at him, he's overcome with a sudden coughing fit which is really just awkwardness and the need to fix whatever the fuck he broke a little even more tonight, "Uh, hope you took some good pictures tonight at least because..."

He trails off, feeling like it was his first time flirting with a girl. Wait, what the fuck. He was not flirting with you. Not even a little bit. Wooyoung was simply trying to pay you a compliment. Simple as that. It doesn't have to be anything more. You don't even need to be friends to pay someone a compliment, in fact, Wooyoung is positive that regular archnemeses complimented each other at least once.

Unfortunately, compliments aren't the norm between the two of you, so whatever nice thing he says feels wrong.

Your brows raise.

"You know," He trails off, scratching the back of his neck in an attempt to seem cool and collected. He nonchalantly adds but his side glances might give him away, fortunately you're too much of a ditz to notice, "You look good."

You stare at him for a long moment, seriously it's so long that he almost changes his mind and adds an insult just so you two would be back in those familiar waters of bickering and teasing each other but then your eyebrows fall back down and a scowl overtakes your features.

"Yeah, right." You mumble and Wooyoung almost feels insulted for some reason but then you continue, "Thanks for the ride."

And then you're out of the car and already moving across your front lawn before Wooyoung can snap out of it and remember to turn the car back on.

19 and 21 years old;

"10 more minutes! Y/L/N stop arguing with that asshole and get back into your position before you're out of the game completely!"

Your coach is red in the face from all the shouting and you know what's good for you, so you keep your mouth shut as you run to your spot, thoroughly ignoring the glare your team's captain shoots at you from your right.

The 'asshole' that your coach is referring to is the referee who didn't count a player from the rival team almost breaking your leg by bulldozing into you - as a foul.

"-stole Eunha's position from her and can't even play properly." You hear a snicker behind you and don't even have to turn to know who it's directed at.

Despite it being only your first semester, you haven't made the greatest impression on your teammates (nor did you try all that much to change that impression).

So for the time being, when there was no rival team, you were the collective enemy in the changing rooms and on the practice field. A freshman who kicked their friend from the spot she had since she started college. A freshman who thought she was better than the rest of her team. A freshman who didn't know how to behave at times. A freshman that made them run extra laps because she was bad at remembering all the new rules at times.

And now, a freshman that was playing badly and fucking up things for the rest of them.

"Y/N!" A hiss from your right is heard and your eyes zero in on your captain, Jihyo, who is staring at you. "Focus."

You swallow harshly and give her a quick now before focusing your gaze to the front.

In high school, you weren't used to losing. You were a winner, it's what you prided yourself in. Failure wasn't an option when it came to football.

But turns out in college, when all the other players are as good as you, winning isn't as easy.

In fact it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. Nearing the end of the first half the score sheet is still empty and it annoys all of the players and the fans as well. The weirdest thing is how ball is not even on your team's side of the field most of the time; your defenders did not have a very entertaining start of the game in comparison to defenders from Busan, who already look out of breath from all of the attacks to their side. Not to mention that they keep teaming up on you specifically.

You can’t pinpoint what exactly is wrong and why there was no goal to this point; half of you thinks it’s because you didn’t blend well with the team.

"Run, run, run!" Yeonjin shouts, when Sinb loses the ball and Busan’s midfielders rush to their side.

The spike of adrenaline energizes you and your eyes zero on the ball, running after it. Mina’s figure passes from your left and both of you corner the midfielder, successfully getting the ball to your side. You have it and quickly pass it to Yeonjin, seeing her signal for the ball. You watch her run off when a body collides with your own and the impact is so strong, you lose your balance, falling down.

‘What?’ You ask yourself in disbelief not understanding how you're sprawled across the grass again, slowly standing up. At first you're shell-shocked but now anger fills you to the brim when you see that it's the same girl who intentionally collided with you the first time, watching you with a smug smirk and then you're just ready to fight.

You push back at her and get even angrier when the bitch doesn't fall.

"Are you going to go tattle to mommy?" She asks with a mocking concern and you can’t hear anything; you even forget that you are in the middle of the game because your anger turns your vision red.

With a loud groan, you launch towards her and grab her by the shirt, screaming to her face that 'she's a cunt'. There are hands around you, pulling you away, trapping you and not letting you go even when you try to break free.

Jihyo's face is in front of you and you can't register what she's saying but you can see her turn red from how pissed off she is. Maybe it's better if you're not listening to her, if you can't hear anyone actually...but then-

"Hey, number nine! You better not fucking cry!"

At first, you think the loud yell came from somewhere on the field. You thought another player from the Busan team was talking shit. And then,

"Number nine! Crybaby!"

There's some laughter in the audience and it's then that you realize the voice is shouting from the fucking bleachers.

A teammate is already pulling you in the opposite direction but your eyes are glued to crowd sitting on the sidelines, the annoying voice insistently yelling. Crybaby. Crybaby. Crybaby.

The worst part is that the voice sounds so painfully familiar, you just can't put your finger on it. Who.

You're about to let it go. You're about to be the bigger person and not act like a total brute on the field, just let it go Y/N. But then-

"Hey, hey crybaby!" You stop in your tracks, head whipping to the direction the voice was coming from and eyes coasting over the bleachers. "What kind of hill did you roll down from that you don't even know how to push someone back properly?!"

Finally, you spot it. Him. In a red hoodie, making sure to stand out in the sea of blue. It's no wonder the voice sounded so eerily familiar, you've heard it screaming at you for the majority of your childhood and a good chunk of your teen years.

Because he rolled down the same hill as you with only a street separating you.

When he realizes that you've caught onto him, he gives you that smile. That grin that never led to anything good, pearly white teeth gleaming under the lights of the bleachers as he taunts you.

You blood pressure jumps so, you take a deep breath and....scream;

"Jung Wooyoung!"

#ateez angst #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung smut #wooyoung angst #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung scenarios

152 notes · View notes

artists-ally · 1 year ago

Text

{Weather} Reader x Azriel

Hello people! My name is Ally and I am proud to enter the ACOTAR world with a bang. I've been writing for years and years now and thought eh fuck it why not start posting it.

So here I am. 100% not expecting this to go anywhere but if it does, come give me a shout! I'd love to hear what y'all have to say about it or hear your ideas for fic recommendations.

There isn't a whole lot of plot, just a thought that turned into another and I connected them. Enjoy!

Word Count ~ 7,523

Warnings ~ Language, blood, hurt/comfort, fluff, violence/fighting, lets all pretend that you can winnow inside the House of Wind for a sec pls.

Summary ~ You have been encompassed into the Inner Circle after the Spring Court went to shit. During a dry stead between the Queens and Hybern, Azriel was sent on a mission to the Mortal Lands to see what was going on. There is little he can do to hide his rather harsh expedition. Set during ACOWAR, you provide a level of comfort for the shadowsinger that no one else is capable of.

~~~~~

All of us are sitting around the House of Wind, relaxing after another brutal day of training. I had been with Cassian, Mor with Rhysand and Feyre, Amren off doing Amren things. Azriel was… nowhere to be found.

It’s been a few days since anyone has heard from him. We know he’s been spying in the Queen’s territory, but to not have a check in or for him to not come home to rest for days on end is concerning.

But what makes my gut churn is the smell of blood coming from upstairs.

Azriel’s blood.

Rhys and Cass get a whiff of their brothers' carnage and exchange a worried look with me. The three of us winnow up to his room and knock on his door.

“Az?” Cass says softly.

No response.

“Azriel, it’s Rhys, open the door,” Rhysand knocks a little harsher than Cassian had.

No response. They can hear his labored breathing and groans, and the smell of blood. They didn’t bother to knock a third time. When his door unlocked on a phantom wind, the sight was horrifying. Az peered over his shoulder at the curse coming from Cass, and shook his head.

“I don’t want visitors,” he mumbled, trying to stand, but failing to do so. Rhys and Cassian rushed to his side, helping him sit back down. I remained in the doorway. Staring at his wings.

They were a little mangled to say the least. Cuts and scratches littered the delicate leather, some puncture wounds oozed trickles of blood and puss.

“What in the name of the Cauldron happened?” Cassian demanded from the shadowsinger.

“Tree snare, Mortal lands are littered with them,” He groaned. “I’m fine, please just- please leave.”

He never begged quite like that before. The desperation was a foreign thing to his tongue. He tried to straighten his spine, but it did no such thing. He hissed at the jarring of his wings, and settled into the curves of his hunched over position.

He looked awful.

“Az, we can’t just leave you like this. We can get Madja in here-”

“No,” he plead again, tone more harsh than the last. “No… leave. I don’t want any help.”

Typical of Az to say such a thing. The quiet, reserved male was always so adamant about doing things on his own he forgot that sometimes it’s better to ask for help than to suffer in silence. Especially when it comes to such a delicate and sensitive body part.

But alas, the two brothers nodded, stepping around the third and heading to the door. I moved out of their way, but not with them. I just continue to stare at his toned, berated back.

“Yn…” he called out. “Don’t make me beg you too.”

I stiffened.

I knew how hard this must be for him. To turn down his friends, to turn down aid. I don’t know Azriel very well, not like the others did after spending five centuries with him. But maybe that would… I don’t know

“I won’t say anything,” I promised. “Just let me clean you up, is all I’m asking.”

He sighed heavily, hanging his head in his hands, but he nodded. I quickly shut the door behind me and moved to the bathroom. Under his sink there was a little brown pouch with all kinds of medical supplies. I grabbed some towels and a bowl of hot water appeared by his feet. When I walked back into the main area, he had his chin fastened on his fist, looking out the big window.

I stood next to him laying the open bag next to him so I could rummage through it. There were some wipes, some bandages and some thick cloth pads. I ripped open as many as I thought I needed and began to apply pressure to the wounds on his arms and shoulders.

Az held a few while I drenched a cloth with the warm water and began to clean off the dirt and sap.

He didn’t even seem to breathe, to even blink as I ran the cloth up and down his right arm, ditching it on the floor when it was too dirty to continue. I repeated my steps until the majority of him was clean. The bleeding had stopped for the most part and I applied an adhesive pad to the area to keep it covered. I couldn’t smell any infection on them so it was okay to conceal the wounds. Had there been a sticky, yellow goo then they would need to drain.

Then I looked at his wings.

They weren’t shredded, but they were not in good condition by any means. They looked so painful.

I silently moved to the opposite side of the bed, kneeling into the mattress and spreading out more supplies.

“I-” he started, “please be gentle…”

“Of course,” I nodded, resting my hand on his shoulder to try and get them to relax. They sagged a bit, but didn’t stay there long. The second my fingers grazed the smooth flesh, he jumped.

“Sorry, sorry,” I mumbled, retracting my hands. “What hurts?”

“No, no it’s not painful, just very sensitive, I’ll try to hold still,” he apologized, displaying his wings, stretching them out all the way as if to brace them against the bed. They were massive. And most of the small cuts and snags littered the top and middle of the span, not towards the bottom.

“This might sting a little, if it’s too much, tell me, and I’ll stop.”

He nodded, clutching the tops of his knees. His breathing was hard as I dabbed the first cotton ball to the sore area. It had been rubbed raw from Mother knows what.

There had to be hundreds of them, if not a thousand scrapes and scratches. But they all didn’t need tending to, they would heal just fine. There were a few that I was concerned about and applied something to keep the bacteria from spreading.

I gently slid my hand to his shoulder, pressing it down from his ear, telling him it was okay, that he was alright.

He listened, settling down. I knew he must be in a lot of pain. There wasn’t much that I could’ve done beside what I did, but I did as much as I could to ease the tension. I summoned another rag and gently cleaned the skin on his back, wiping the mud baked onto his skin. Az relaxed more at that.

“I know it’s not really my place to ask, but if you would like to share what happened, I will patiently listen, Azriel. If not, I’ll enjoy the silence with you,” I offered, my hands coming to his shoulders, massaging the thick muscle.

He groaned in satisfaction, dipping his head forward and sagging downward. His arms slumped to his side as I drove my knuckle between the fibrous strands. Az ground his teeth, breathing with every knot I worked from his body. I drove my thumb in and around the base of his wings, careful not to brush against them.

Cassian had once told how sensitive Illyrian wings were. Why they were so sensitive. It made my cheeks blush, which I was taunted for endlessly.

Azriel sucked in a breath.

I had been too busy thinking about all the things Cass and Rhys had teased me with and my thumb slipped, brushing the delicate nerves at the base of his spine. I could see the goosebumps etch his bronze skin.

“S-Sorry,” I stuttered, fingers trembling, struggling to resume. “Do you need anything else? Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

I stood before he had a chance to say otherwise. I didn’t, truly didn’t, mean to brush over the hyper-sensitive area.

Azriel just looked up at me with full eyes. They looked like strangers, not the deep, fierce set of hazel that I had come to know. They were like the shadows that whispered in his ear. There hadn’t been a glimpse of them in the hour or so that I’d been here tending to him. It’s as if they’ve vanished.

His eyes were bright, filled with his pupils in a way that made him seem feline. Like a true predator hunting in the pit of night.

“I…” Az started, swallowing hard before his eyes darted between mine. “Will you stay? Please?”

He reached his hand to grab mine, and I let him, his warm, scarred hands engulfing mine. I nodded precisely, a smile playing on my lips. He seemed to deflate then, a weight being lifted off his shoulders and he dragged me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head against my stomach.

I let my arms fall over his shoulders, the strands of his inky black hair finding its way into my fingers. I tangled it between my digits gently, letting the soft curls form as I brushed them away, repeating the process.

I had no idea how long we stayed there for, but enough for the once dimly lit room to ignite with fae light as the sun set over the Sidra.

Azriel began to tug me closer. I had no choice but to crawl into his lap, letting my weight rest over one of his legs as he clung to me.

I didn’t dare try and break this moment.

I nestled into the dip between his shoulder and neck, letting my eyes lull shut as his warm body did the same. I let my thumbs brush against the smooth skin on the back of his shoulder, wanting to press a kiss there, but… not my place, I reminded myself.

I had always cared for the Illyrian more than the others had. Was always the one wondering if what his shadows were whispering were things to him or about him. I knew he had a traumatic pass, and I knew he suffered a great deal during the early years of his immortal life, but things were… they weren’t great, but we were in a lull. With Hybern. Things were stalled so we took this time to cut back.

Not Az. He was always spying somewhere, reporting on new territories siding with us or the King, but nothing more. We all knew he needed a break, but never took one. It was frustrating.

He shifted on the bed, then I felt a gust of wind encase my body.

His wings enveloped me entirely.

I had not expected it. I was shocked to say the least. I tensed for a moment, and he must have sensed it because he began to retreat.

“No, no” I said, adjusting myself on his muscular thigh for a moment. “Put them back.”

He answered with the leathery wings covering us completely. I settled into the warmth, the soft scent they admitted. I had never felt so safe in my entire life, so completely safe and comforted.

I didn’t know a lot about Illyrian tradition since I had been encompassed into the inner circle, but I knew enough that it was a great honor to see a pair of wings up close, let alone touch them. If he had let me do that, gods only knew what this meant.

I felt a tear hit my shirt. I heard him sniffle, then hiccup in a breath.

“Azriel…” I breathed out slowly, gripping him tighter as he clung to me, the sobs wracking through his body. He gasped for a breath every now and then, the tears falling faster with every breath.

He cried for a long while. I wasn’t even sure if he knew how to do that. To cry, to be vulnerable with anyone.

“It’s okay, Az, I’m here, I’m right here Az it’s okay,” I soothed, twisting his hair around my fingers once again. His breathing seemed to even out at that, sobs reduced to trickling tears and sniffles.

I didn’t know what to do.

I didn’t know what to say.

Thankfully, he spoke. “I don’t know what you did, Yn… but you made the shadows go away. It is so quiet without their roar in my ear. In my bones… everything is silent. There are no whispers, no murmurs of potential threat. It is all quiet.”

My heart thundered in my chest so hard I thought it might break my rib cage. There were no words to describe the feeling in my body. I gripped him even tighter.

His hands stroked up and down my sides, gently nudging me to pull off. I did, meeting his glossy eyes and tear stained cheeks. His hand ever so gently came up to my face, fingers barely touching the surface of my skin as he looked into my eyes. So deep I thought he might see my thoughts.

“Thank you,” was all he said. I nodded and smiled, tucking the hair behind his ears. “Besides Madja and my own mother, I have never let anyone touch my wings. Not even Rhys or Cassian. They are… my entire world. The most prized possession any Illyrian could hoist. They are my ticket to anywhere in the world and I let you touch them without a second thought.”

My eyes had widened at that.

“In 500 years,” I gaped, “you’ve never let either of them touch your wings? Once?”

He shook his head, “Never. It is a privilege that few get to experience. Typically just mothers to their newborns, but once you learn to fly, you’re old enough to take care of them on your own. It becomes our responsibility to keep them safe and keep them clean. Of course there may be a medical need, but other than that, they are not to be touched. Only mates have that sacred right.”

My heart clenched.

I’ve only been a part of this group since the middle of the war. I had left the Spring Court when Feyre had planted those lies. They spread to my territory and we all went our separate way. For the better. I chose to come and fight for what we all knew was right. I can’t say the same for the rest of my family.

I had managed to hitch a few rides to Summer, right before Adrita was attacked. I fought alongside them, and none of them knew that I was from Spring besides Feyre. She had recognized me for the Tithe. We instantly connected and she offered me sanctuary with them while we fought against Hybern. I had exceptional knowledge of the Spring Court and The Wall, of who was going where and when.

When we came back to Velaris, I was introduced to Amren, who just briefly looked up from that book, took a sip from a gauntlet, gave me a cold once-over, and went right back to the book.

Nesta was much the same.

Elain hadn’t said much either, just asked me if I knew anything about the human lands. I was later informed on her betrothed. It made my heart hurt.

Mor was undoubtedly my best friend. She really helped me get settled here in Velaris. She was the one to pick me up time and time again when I didn’t think I could go on.

Rhysand was more of a gentleman than anyone painted him to be, especially all those years Under The Mountain. He was not a hostile homicidal maniac like Amarantha had painted for him. He was gentle, and kind, only being capable of those horrible things when he needed to be.

Cassian was… well, Cassian. Big, strong, charming as ever. Dumber than a pile of rocks but a brute of a man nonetheless. He was my other best friend. My go-to drinking buddy and my favorite person to beat at cards. I would come with him and Nesta to Windhaven. He was not merciful.

And then there was Azriel. He rarely spoke when he wasn’t prompted. He kept to himself, to those shadows, and wasn’t one for conversation. I had only spoken to him three or four times. Most of them during the war, once during Solstice to give him his gift. It was usually just… so, between us.

Until now.

Until he let me touch his wings.

Could it have been a possibility that-

As if he knew what I was thinking, “I didn’t know how to bring it up to you, Yn. I didn’t want to at first, cause I didn’t think you felt anything. Any type of bond. And I certainly didn’t want to bring it up right in the middle of the war, risk death, and then leave you alone forever. I couldn’t bring myself to leave you with that type of pain.”

My eyes stung. My heart thundered. Every fiber in my body became aware of just how close I was to him. I took in a deep breath, eyes blinking rapidly.

“If you… I don’t know if that is what you want,” he hesitated. “If I am what you want, but you are everything I’ve ever needed, Yn. You are the sunshine to my dark and hazy life. The only thing that can make my deep, roaring shadows disappear. Completely. It is calm and utterly silent when you are near. And when I get to hold you… Cauldron Yn, it is like a fresh breath of air. Like a torrential rain to my wildfire. It hasn’t been this quiet inside my body since the day I was born.”

There was nothing I could do to stop the tears from flowing. They hit the clothing between us, saturating the fabric and then drying. I didn’t know what to say. And I could tell that was killing him, my silence. He tensed beside me, gripping my arms a little tighter.

“Yn” he breathes, so softly. So gently than anyone ever had.

I looked into his eyes, finding them to be so much more breathtaking than I did a little while ago.

“I don’t know what to say, Azriel,” I chuckled lightly. “I’m shocked, I just thought that you and Mor…”

“No,” he shook his head adamantly, “Not us. Not ever, I’m afraid. I spent a long time trying to… coax her, but she never budged. I decided I needed to look for someone else. For you.”

I smiled greatly.

“Stay with me, tonight,” he grabbed both of my hands, placing kisses to each of them before folding them against his heart. “Let me give this to you, slowly, at your own pace. It is yours, Yn. It always has been. Let it be yours, if you choose.”

His eyes, glowing and begging me to say something. When he pressed his lips to my hands, I could feel my chest tighten in a way it hadn’t before, constrict around itself until it let loose and erupted from within. Everything I had hoped for, spent countless hours dreaming of, pestering my mother about stories of when she found out my father was her mate, came true at that moment.

An unrelenting pull in his direction, a deceptively overwhelming feeling of trust and sureness that seemed to never end crashed through me. It was like I was looking at him for the first time. Like I opened my eyes and the first images I was blessed with seeing were of him, of Azriel, this shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court.

A piece of a puzzle locked into place, one that I hadn’t even known existed yet. And here it was, front and center in my mind, so clear it almost blinded me.

All I could do was smile. Smile and nod my head as I watched his teeth flash before he wrapped me up in his arms. He giggled, tossing me over his shoulder and rolling me around on his enormous bed. I laughed and laughed, letting him pepper my skin with kisses.

“You have no idea how long I have waited for this, Yn,” He sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, clutching my fingers in the other. “How long I have needed a mate.”

“I think I might have an idea,” I smiled, tucking some hair behind his ear. He rolled his eyes, scooping me up and laying me on top of his chest.

Cauldron knows how long we stayed like that for, just talking and smiling at each other, kissing every now and then. When I grew too tired to keep my head up, his wings encased me again, that soft, musky scent circling around me.

“Rest, my Yn,” he whispered, his arms coming around my waist. “We can talk all day tomorrow.”

+++++++

The sun made him look like the most perfect shade of bronze. His dark, inky hair was a mess over his eyes, his tattoos swirling across his shoulders. His wings were still folded around me, keeping my body pressed to his all night long.

Azriel slept, another thing I wasn’t sure he actually knew how to do.

I shifted my legs around, detangling them from his. He groaned, but let them go, only tightening his grip around my torso.

“Az,” I whispered, "we need to get up, training is in an hour.”

“Five more minutes,” he grumbled, tucking his head beneath my chin. The hair on his head smelled like the Sidra; salty and lemony. So calming and soothing. I let him, and myself, have a few more minutes, just basking in each other. But I eventually did have to be the fun killer.

“I’m sure Cassian will understand if you don’t want to train today, but I unfortunately don’t have any excuse. I have to get ready and go eat before I go. Let me up, please.”

He let go reluctantly, making a big huff as I climbed away from him.

I laughed, “You know I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Yes, but I wanted to spend this morning with you. I want to spend all my time with you.”

My heart swooned. “Come to breakfast with me. Even if you don’t want to train you can still come and watch.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, but followed me nonetheless. I got changed into my fighting leathers, and Az strolled behind me to the dining room. I greeted everyone like I normally would, as did Azriel. They could instantly tell, because he wore a smile on his lips the entire meal, taking up the empty seat next to me, which normally was Mor’s.

When she strolled in, she gave him a high eyebrow and he shrugged. She looked at me and I had to suck my lips into my mouth to keep from cackling out. I mouthed ‘I'll tell you later’.

When I rose from my seat, so did Azriel, following me into the kitchen.

“When will you be back?” He asked softly, cradling me close.

“By noon, Mor and I have some work we need to do at Rita’s,” I responded, falling into his warmth. “Are you going to be alright here?”

He nodded against my shoulder, “I just don’t want you to go, is all. I’m enjoying the peace and quiet.”

My heart sank at that. I was just happy to offer him at least some moments of rest in his utterly chaotic life. If I was able to give him any sort of relief, I’d stop at nothing to make sure that he has access to it whenever he pleases. Who was I to deny him of that?

He stepped away, pressing his lips into my forehead a few times.

“Have a good training session, please don’t get beat up too bad, I have plans for later,” he smiled, rubbing the sides of my arms.

“Oh?” I tilted my head.

“It’s a surprise, now get going, Cass is waiting for you.”

“Don’t blow a gasket when I come back with bruises from him,” I chuckled.

He straightened, real concern coming into his eyes. “Maybe I should come-”

“No, no I’ll be okay,” I explained. “Cassian has beat my ass more times than I could count and you were able to hold it in. I’ll be fine, it’s never anything too bad anyway, nothing I can’t handle. I'd really rather not see you bash his face in because he got in a couple of good shots.”

That didn’t make it any better. His grip tightened, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched.

“Hey!” Cassian called from down the hall. “Put your lover's quarrel on hold, we gotta go, Yn. If you’re not out here in 30 seconds I’ll make you go up and down the steps every second you’re late.”

I rolled my eyes, impatient bastard.

“I need to go,” I said, removing his hands from my body. “I will come find you when I’m back. Try and relax, okay? I’ll be fine, you know that.”

He just nods briefly before stepping out of the way to let me pass. He caught my elbow at the last second, kissing me so intensely I thought I might fall over. When he let me go, he was smirking like a cat.

++++++

The bond must have already been slipping into place because I could feel this agonizing pull back to the House of Wind. But it also felt like he was right here with me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was spying from the shadows, something for him and I to talk about later.

Cassian and I had gone through our normal workouts, doing footwork drills and some strength training. But of course, even after almost collapsing to the floor himself, he wanted to spar.

“Can’t we just skip it for today?” I begged, rolling my head to look at him.

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “You need more practice, and I know it’ll come in handy against Hybern. If you ever find yourself without a weapon, all you’ll have is your fists. And seeing the look on Az’s face will be priceless.”

“You know,” it wasn’t really a question.

“I’ve known before he has,” Cassian huffed. “I pointed it out to him after about three times of you being near him. His shadows always disappeared and I found him staring at you. He didn’t even realize, said that he hadn’t even noticed things were quiet because he was too busy thinking of you.”

My heart lurched in my chest, filling with pride and triumph. “I don’t know what it is that I do.”

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “That is the whole point of being a mate, things just simply work.”

“I have given it a ton of thought in the past, about what it would feel like to have a mate, to have a bond with someone. It’s… so much different than I expected it to be. I miss him so much more than I thought I would. I thought I’d be able to ignore it, but I can’t.”

“Welcome to having a mate,” Cassian snickered, taking up a fighting stance. I followed suit, circling around him and dodging his blows. I wasn’t lucky enough to escape them all, one particularly hard kick sent me to my knees, and then Cassian was on top of me.

He flatten me like a bug and flipped me on my back. His forearm pressed into my throat, cutting off oxygen. I coughed, blood rushing to my face, my vision darkening.

“Come on, Yn, what have I taught you to do?” he pressed further into my esophagus. I drove my knee as hard as I could into his crotch, causing him to hiss, loosening his grip, faltering.

I smacked him as hard as I could in the face, sending him toppling to the ground. It had been hard, harder than I really meant to. I could see his eyes darken as he rose to his feet, really wanting a challenge now. He started to run towards me, and I braced myself for the impact, but it never came.

I saw a shadow blurr by and Cassian was vaulted 12 feet in the air. He made a dent in the earth as he drove through the soil. In seconds, he was encased in tendril like smoke. One that I recognized all too well.

“Az-”

“I am going to kill you,” the voice was so foreign. Azriel straddled Cassian as he held him up by the collar of his shirt. “How dare you put your hands on my mate.”

I climbed through the ropes of the ring as fast as I could, jumping down and off the platform. I sprinted the distance between us as fast as I could. I screamed his name, but couldn’t hear me over the roar of the shadows.

Before I could get there, Cassian had thrown him off and was ready to fight. The two went at each other so hard I was genuinely worried that Azriel was going to hurt him. I didn’t know what else to do, so I took off towards the townhouse.

I barged in the door, huffing puffing, and red faced as the door smacked off the wall.

“Cauldron alive, Cassian, how many times have I told you not- Yn?” Rhysand’s eyes immediately softened. “Are you alright?” “I was sparring with Cassian and Azriel came out of nowhere,” I rushed, barely able to speak over my labored breathing. “Last night he told me I’m his mate and I think he might actually kill-”

“Oh shit,” Rhys cursed, grabbing my arm and winnowing us both to the sight. They were still scrapping, both bleeding from the face. Azriel looked like an animal, and Cass looked like he was genuinely afraid. I haven’t ever seen him look like this, either of them.

Rhys threw himself in the middle, trying to get Azriel’s attention. He paid no mind to his High Lord, throwing him off his back as he lunged for Cassian again. I went to step in, to try and get his attention but-

“Yn no,” Rhysand shouted from a few feet away. That caught Azriel’s attention quickly. He looked up from where he had Cassian in a chokehold, eyes locking with mine. In a second, he vanished from Cass and appeared behind me. His arms were strong and tight around my middle. A snarl ripped from his chest as Cassian rose to his shaky feet.

His shadows encased us, creating a shield. He took staggering steps back, inhaling and exhaling so hard I thought he might pass out. Rhysand moved to check on his brother, Cassian battering him away as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

“Azriel,” I said through a hurried breath. “Az it’s me, it’s me.”

He inhaled deep, scenting the air, letting out a deep breath. His grip loosened and he said my name like an old forgotten prayer.

The shadows vanished immediately, his heavy body leaning against mine.

“Yn…” he breathed, turning me around. I shrugged his hands off of me, more than pissed at him for barging and attempting to kill his brother.

“Go inside,” I said, turning away from him.

“Yn please-” “I don’t wanna hear it from you,” I shouted, eyes blazing. He took a small step back, ears flattening back against his head, wings tucking in tightly to his body.

“That’s right, shadowsinger, go back-”

“Not another word from you either,” I snarled at Cassian. He, too, jumped in his skin. “You have nothing to brag about either. Don’t you dare put your hands on my mate like that again.”

Silence rippled around us. Rhys lifted his hand, opened his mouth to say something, but the glare I sent him had him scratching the back of his head quickly.

“I swear to the Mother that if anything happens while I’m with Mor at Rita’s, I’ll kick all of your asses myself. And don’t think for a second that I won’t drag Feyre into this either.”

That was more than enough to get the Illyrians to look the other way, words forgotten in their minds. I turned on my heel and grabbed my water from the corner before stalking off down the street to find Mor.

++++++

“He just appeared out of thin air?” Mor’s eyes were wide.

I nodded, “It was like he was waiting for something to happen. He would have killed Cassian, I’m sure of it, if Rhys hadn’t been there, and said my name to snap Az out of it.”

“Sounds like someone needs a little time alone with their new mate,” Mor’s eyebrows waggled on her forehead. I smacked her arm and she boomed a laugh. “I’m just suggesting.”

“It hasn’t even been a day since he told me, Mor, and he’s acting like he owns me. Rhys didn’t dare do this with Feyre,” I shook my head.

“Well,” she countered. “Rhys did almost kill Cassian once.”

“I know, I’ve heard the story a million times,” I sighed. “But that was after the Weaver and all that. They had mated and had time for the bond to be in place. There weren’t any problems until that and Az and I have barely kissed a handful of times. That’s it. How can he be this… territorial?”

“Az is unexplainably protective. Of all of us. Before you came along he was like that with all of us. In a different way, but… he’d never let any of us volunteer before he looked into it or did it himself. It is rooted deep within him, in a way none of us will understand.” “Even so, it doesn’t make it okay for him to do what he did.” “I don’t disagree,” she added, “but just try and understand where he is coming from. Yn, you are the only one who he has come across that can make his head silent. To stop the shadows and the constant whispers. I don’t know about you, but if that were me, I’m sure I’d do everything in my power to make sure nothing ever happens to my peace and quiet.”

+++++

When I came back with More, she bid me good luck before Winnowing herself back down to the Townhouse.

I came to the main dining room, Cassian, Rhysand and Feyre all sitting at the table.

“Okay, what the hell happened today?” Feyre demanded, noticing the bruises on my neck.

“I’m surprised you don’t already know,” I snorted, letting down my shields so she could see it all. She flinched slightly when Az landed a particularly brutal blow to Cassian’s face. It sent blood spewing from his mouth.

“Has anyone seen him?” I asked with a sigh. No one answered, but I heard something. I whipped my head from side to side, this deafening roar in my ears.

“What?” Rhysand asked.

“You all don’t hear that?” I asked, eyes wide as I searched for the thunderous sound. I listened deeper and deeper, not hearing any words. I suddenly felt a chill in my bones so cold I thought I’d freeze right there. There were so many voices and whispers.

I looked up to the set of grand stirs and noticed the shadows lurking at the top.

Azriel…

I sprinted up the stairs, the tendrils leading me down the hall and to his room. When I opened the door, the room was almost pitch black, shadows swirling around and around like an endless storm over the Sidra.

I tried to push my way through, but I rebound off of it like a shield. I tried again, screaming his name. He was in the center. And I had no way of getting to him. I began to panic, shouting for him louder and louder.

Nothing, no response from my shadowshinger. I took a deep breath and shoved my body against the wall, bouncing off of it immediately. I slammed hard against the floor, back groaning as I pushed myself to all fours. I tried to crawl, but it was no use, it flung me back and into the hallway where Ryhs, Cassian, and Feyre were all standing, Mor popping up next to her.

“What the fuck-” Mor gasped, seeing it for herself.

“He’s in there,” I heaved, “Mor I can’t get to him what do I do?”

She was at a loss for words and Rhys slid beside her, taking it all in. He did nothing to hide his wide eyes and frantic look. His own shadows rose and tried to comfort the tempest, but failed. The roar in my ears grew so loud I couldn’t hear whatever Rhysand said to me. I tried to read his lips, follow the bond.

I felt deep inside, it was so cold. If I didn’t know any better I wouldn’t have known anything was there at all. I pulled and pulled and pulled and pulled. I must have screamed because everyone around me flinched. I went slack against the wall and covered my ears, calling out for Azriel. Begging for him to come to me.

A flicker. I felt a flicker of warmth in my chest. Against my soul, I felt a tug, as if he too was pulling on the same thread that ties us together. I pulled faster and faster until I slammed into something so hard I gasped.

It was rock solid, something so impenetrable, like magic itself. I beat on it with everything I had, prying at it with my whole being until it began to give away. I tore this wall apart, it grew warmer and warmer-

She doesn’t want a mate, she doesn’t want me…

There is no meaning if I do not have her to protect, she doesn’t want me to protect her.

Useless, dumb, bastard born Illyrian filth.

Rhysand and Cassian should have left you in that acid bath and left you to dissolve into nothing. They should not have saved someone so vain and cowardly.

These were not my thoughts, but they sure felt like it. I looked towards the swirling wind and shadow, finally seeing Azriel at the center, crumbled to the floor, hands over his ears.

“Azriel,” I shouted. He didn’t move.

“What’s happening?” Rhysand asked, helping me to stand on my feet.

“I-I don’t know I just felt this rush of thoughts and now I can see him but he can’t hear me,” I felt the tears in my eyes. He looked around, as if searching for his own thoughts, but then he stood rigid, throwing a glance at Cassian. They seemed to share a thought before Rhys turned back to me.

“Speak in your mind,” he said hurriedly. “You have to talk to him in your mind.”

“Wha-”

“Just do it,” he urged, and I turned back to face the raging storm.

Azriel… I whispered.

I watched him flinch, hand bracing on the corner of his bed. His eyes and cheeks were wet with tears when they met mine.

Yn…

Az you have to take this down so I can get to you, I begged, it’s too strong for me to get through let me in.

He went silent.

Az please let me in. I can make the shadows go away, remember? I can make all of this go away, you just have to calm it down enough for me to get to you.

I can’t.

Why?

I am the shadows, and they are me.

“What is he saying?” Rhysand asked.

“He just said he can't tame them, that he is the shadows and they are him,” I shook my head, threading my fingers in my hair. “I can help him but I can’t get to him.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked, eyes wary.

“With my life, High Lord,” I said, because it was true.

He grabbed my hand and the familiar hollowness of winnowing encased me. He tried to drop me right next to Az, but it seemed to be warded. I was instantly flung away from him and hit the wall so hard I saw stars. Feyre came to my side immediately as the bright light in the hallway dimmed.

I forced myself up and boiled with rage. How dare he, my mate, keep me from him. I trudged forward, a small limp to my gate but I kept on pressing, despite the protests from behind me. I came to the whirling wind and shadow, staring at it.

I placed my palm against it and closed my eyes.

I know this is you, shadowsinger. These shadows, this wall… but it is not Azriel, not my mate. He would never keep me away. He’d want me right next to him, holding him as we weather this storm together. I know you are one in the same, and I know I make you go away and you are angry. He is the shadows, and you are him. I am his mate, meaning he is a part of me. I am the sun that casts the shadows you need. I am the maker of your shadows. Without one there cannot be another, without my mate there is no one to harness your strength. Let me in, let me cast the sunshine so that your shadows may sing once again.

There was almost a noise of discontent before the roar in my ear withered away. It disbanded like fog in the early spring mornings. The wind and shadows misted away, the room and hallway no longer swirling in a veil of darkness.

In the center of the room shook Azriel, arms trembling as he looked around at the sudden brightness.

I didn’t know I even gave my feet permission to move until I was collapsing into his lap. I hiccuped a sob so hard I thought my lungs burst open.

Azriel buried his face into my neck, breath just as ragged. I cried uncontrollably, crushing him with my arms, I’m sure.

I felt warmth and tenderness encase my body. I felt a tap against my shields and I let them down, welcoming Az’s shadows without a second thought. His thoughts became mine, and vice versa. There wasn’t a part of us in that moment that wasn’t connected. Our minds, our hearts, our souls seemed to tangle in each other.

It must’ve been a long while before we detangled because everyone had left.

I, begrudgingly, pulled myself from him, sitting up to look at his tear stained face.

“Don’t you dare do something like that ever again,” I breathed, resting my forehead against his.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be that harsh with Cassian-”

“What?” I asked, brows knitting together. “No no no, not that, whatever the hell that shadow wall was.”

“You’re not mad at me for beating the shit out of Cassian?” He asked, equally as confused.

“Well,” I sighed. “I’m not happy about it, but for the love of the Mother if you ever shut me out like that again, when I break through, I will kill you.”

It was a promise so deep even he knew it was true. He just nodded, kissing both of my cheeks before my lips.

“I’m sorry, Yn,” a tear trickled down my face. “I saw Cassian choking you and on top of you and it blinded me with a rage so unexplainable. I don’t even remember doing it. It was an afterthought by the time I came out of it. And you looked so infuriated at me I just- I panicked. It had been so quiet for a good while it was like I forgot about the shadows entirely and they took over my being. It was so foreign and strange and they rained down upon me with such vengeance-”

“I know, I know,” I said, combing his hair with my fingers. “We… had a talk. We came to an agreement.”

“Agreement? A bargain?” he asked, a little concerned.

I shook my head, “no, not a bargain. We just saw eye to eye on things. A favor, I guess you could call it.” I let the words I had once spoken filter into his mind. Azriel had this starry look in his eyes when the words were over with.

“You talked to the shadows…” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. “H-How did you-”

“Rhys tried to winnow me to you but it must’ve been warded because the next thing that I knew was the wall against my back,” I hissed as his hands crept up my shoulder. His touch was featherlight as he examined, lifting up my shirt to reveal the bruises forming along my spine.

“Yn… Yn I am so sorry I hurt you…” his eyes feel so dark, I worried for a second that another tempest was coming.

“No, Azriel look at me,” I grabbed his face between my hands and made him look up at me. “This was not your fault. You and the shadows are not the same thing. You two, like I said, may share the same being, but you are not your shadows. You are Azriel, my Azriel.”

The color came back to his eyes almost instantly. There was a new set of tears in his face as he landed on my chest, arms tightening around my waist.

“Thank you, Yn… for seeing me, not just the shadows.”

#ally writes #praying that the tags will bring me some traction #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acowar #acotar fandom #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #rhysand #cassian acotar #feyre archeron #writing #writeblr

312 notes · View notes

lucy90712 · 1 year ago

Note

hii

pls could write a Jude Bellingham x reader YN is Jobes best friend since they were like 5 and YN moved next door, she always had a crush on Jude and everyone could tell but he always turned her down and then he sees her tryna move on and he’s like what’d u think ur doing

WC: 2.8k Ever since I was born pretty much I've known the Bellinghams. When I was born Jude was a little over a year old and then Jobe was born about a year after that. Our parents were friends before any of us were born and they lived just down the road from each other so all of us have been around each other pretty much from the day we were born. As we grew up I only became closer with both Jude and Jobe but as we've gotten older I have gotten closer to Jobe as he's around more and I just feel like I have more in common with him than I do with Jude as he's older so he can always do things before we can.

One of the other reasons I think I'm not as close with Jude is because I've had a crush on him for a while, when he moved away to go and play in Germany my feelings for him started to change. It seemed like he became a man all of a sudden, he wasn't the Jude I used to know from when we were in our early teens he was different, all of a sudden he was the most attractive man I'd ever seen. Whenever he came home all I could do was admire him and the muscles he'd clearly been working hard to get as well as his face which just seemed so perfect. It was obvious to everyone that I has a crush on Jude even Jobe made fun of me a few times for fawning over his brother. There came a time when Jude sat me down and tried letting me down gently saying that he thought we were better off as friends which hurt a hell of a lot at the time but I've since got over that disappointment.

Sadly I never got over my feelings for Jude instead I just distracted myself with other guys who were nowhere near as good as Jude and honestly half of them I didn't even really like but it was only a bit of harmless flirting I never went any further as I just didn't want to. I know one day I'll meet a guy I love as much if not more than Jude and then I'll be happier than I am now pining over a guy that doesn't even like me back. It's been a while since I've seen Jude as he's been so busy with the end of the season which has actually helped me quite a lot as not seeing him and trying not to pay much attention to things he posts has kept him out my mind. All of this has been on purpose too as my birthday is today and I didn't want to only be thinking about Jude on my birthday.

With it being my 18th birthday all my friends have convinced me to go out clubbing with them. They've all turned 18 already and have been out quite a few times and they want me to join them. There has been times they've tried to convince me to get a fake id but I refused as I'm not bothered about going out plus it wouldn't work anyway as quite a few people here know who I am because of my friendship with Jude and Jobe so I never bothered. Sadly Jobe can't come and enjoy my birthday with me as he's not 18 yet but I promised I'd spend the rest of the day with him as he said he didn't want to not see me on my birthday. We've spent all of our past birthdays together and I couldn't be the one to ruin that tradition plus I think I'll enjoy spending the day with Jobe more than I will then going out.

~~~~~~~~~~

As it's my birthday I wanted to sleep in for a bit longer than I usually would but that didn't happen as the sound of my phone notifications woke me up. When I looked at it my home screen was flooded with notifications of texts and Instagram posts from my friends. I answered a few texts before there was a knock on my bedroom door and my mum came in with breakfast for me which she'd spent her morning making. She had to go to work but she promised that she'd give me my presents later before I go out which didn't bother me as I don't need any presents I just want to enjoy my birthday.

Once my mum had left I went back to looking at my phone and replying to people, at some point I went on Instagram and saw that Jude had tagged me on his story and I don't think I've ever clicked on a notification so quickly. He had posted a picture of the two of us from when we were younger covered in mud from where we'd been playing outside in the rain with a caption wishing me a happy birthday. It made me feel all warm inside that he bothered to post something instead of just texting me as he doesn't post much that isn't to do with football.

After I'd caught up on my notifications I got myself out of bed and got ready so I could go and see Jobe. He wanted me to go to his so I text him just before I left the house so he'd be expecting me. Seeing as its only a few minutes down the road I was happy to walk plus it's such a nice day that I wanted to get outside and soak up the sun even if it's only for a few minutes. When I arrived I didn't even get the chance to knock on the door before it swung open and Jobe tackled me straight into a hug. Jobe has always been like this with me we are just so close that we are always excited when we get to spend time together especially on special days like birthdays. Eventually he let go of me and allowed me inside but he quickly covered my eyes as he said he had a surprise waiting for me in the living room. I was a bit nervous as you never know what a Jobe surprise will be but I had a bit of faith that he wouldn't do anything I'd hate on my birthday.

It felt like we walked forever but eventually we stopped and Jobe instructed me to open my eyes. It took a second for my eyes to adjust but when they did the first thing I saw was a smiling Jude sat on the sofa. If it were possible my jaw would've hit the floor as Jude wasn't supposed to be home he was supposed to still be in Germany for another week but there he was and I definitely wasn't seeing things.

"Happy birthday y/n/n" Jude said

"What are you doing here I thought you still had to be in Germany" I questioned

"You didn't think I'd miss your 18th did you plus I may have lied to be able to surprise you" he said

"I'm so happy you're here it's been ages since I've seen you" I said

He got up and gave me a hug before ushering me to sit down while him and Jobe ran off somewhere. They came back a minute later holding far too many presents which they piled on my lap so that I couldn't move anymore. I tried telling them off for getting me so many unnecessary presents but they insisted that it was necessary as in their words you only turn 18 once. Seeing as they were both so excited about it I opened the presents in whatever order they agreed on which did involve a bit of arguing but we got there in the end. They got me so many nice things that made me feel so loved but also a bit bad as I could never afford to do the same for them.

"Thank you guys so much I really appreciate everything but you shouldn't have gotten me so much I'll never be able to top or even match that" I said

"It's ok we don't need you to do anything for us we just love having you around" Jobe said

"Aww you're going to make my cry" I said

"Don't cry instead tell me what you've got planned for today" Jude said

"Well first I'm hanging out with you guys but then my friends convinced me to go out tonight" I said

"Is it just you and your friends going?" Jude asked

"Yeah me and I think 3 of the girls the rest can't make it" I said

"Well I'm coming with you whether you like it or not I'm not letting you go out for the first time without someone to keep you safe" he said super seriously

"I'll be fine Jude I won't even drink that much" I said

"I don't care it's not safe for you to be going out with just a few of your friends I promise I'll leave you be I just can't let you go alone" he said

"Fine you can come but be prepared the girls will go crazy" I laughed

~~~~~~~~~~

I spent the rest of the day with Jude and Jobe just hanging out like we used to do all the time when we were a bit younger. They even got me a cake which they definitely aren't supposed to eat with their diet but they did and made me promise not to tell anyone. A bit later I had to leave to get ready but not before Jude cornered me to make me promise to text him when I was ready to go and he'd come over so we could go together. I was still anxious about him coming as for one I don't want to get drunk and say something stupid to him but also I didn't want him to be on my mind all night. Tonight was supposed to be the night I get to let go and enjoy myself and maybe find a guy I like to flirt with but I feel like I can't do that with Jude around as my mind will be on him the entire time. I appreciate his concern about me going out but I can handle myself and I'd be fine without him. That being said it's been a long time since I've really spent any time with him so it will be nice to have Jude there.

Once I was home and getting ready I was texting my friends to get their opinion on my outfit as I don't really know what to wear out. They helped me get it down to two options but once I told them Jude was coming they picked the shorter tighter dress straight away as they know I like Jude so I guess they are being good friends. Seeing as they picked a nice dress I decided to go all out on my hair and makeup too and if I do say so myself I looked pretty good. After I'd done a few touch ups I text Jude to let him know I was ready and headed downstairs to put my shoes on as I knew he'd be a few minutes.

Jude arrived and honked the horn of his car to get me to go outside (let's just pretend he can drive) so I made my way to the car slowly trying to not fall over with my heels on the gravel of the driveway. Jude must've noticed my struggle as he got out the car and helped me into the passenger side of the car.

"You look beautiful" he said

"Thank you" I said feeling my cheeks turn pink

"You know you don't have to drive if you want to drink we can get an Uber" I said

"No it's ok I won't drink I'm only going to make sure you and you're friends are ok" he said

"They're all really excited that your coming I think they might spend more time with you than they will with me" I laughed

"I won't let them you'll barely notice I'm there" he smiled

We arrived at the club and true to his word Jude disappeared as soon as I was with my friends although he did instruct me to put any drinks I had on a tab he'd make for me as he didn't want to me pay for anything on my birthday. He'd gone before I could argue with him so I didn't bother I just did exactly what he told me to and got myself a drink before heading to dance with my friends. As I was dancing my friends told me that there was a guy who wouldn't stop staring at me so I managed to sneak a glance in his direction and he was actually really cute. He noticed me looking at him and shot me a smile before making his way over.

Straight away he complimented me but not just on my outfit which made me let down my guard a little bit as I could tell he was genuinely interested in me. Once he found out it was my birthday he wished me a happy birthday and offered to buy me a drink which I was happy to accept. As we both sipped on our drinks we started properly talking and we just got on like a house on fire. We actually had a few things in common and he was such a nice guy that it was hard not to get along with him. Once we finished our drinks he took me back to the dance floor and we danced together. To begin with he didn't have his hands on me but I grabbed his arms and put his hands on my waist as I was feeling little more confident than usual.

I was really enjoying myself dancing and laughing with this guy my mind was only thinking about him and not about Jude at all. It's been so long since I've thought about any guy in front of me and not compared him to Jude, it was honestly so nice to have finally found a guy that made me forget about Jude and that clearly had the same feelings that I did. My enjoyment was short lived though as not long after I felt someone grab my arm and pull me away, I was about to punch the person until I got a look at them and realised it was Jude and honestly I still kind of wanted to punch him as he was supposed to leave me be and I was actually enjoying myself.

He dragged me all the way out of the club and back to the car which is when he finally let go of his grip on my arm and I just stared at him. Neither of us moved nor said anything for a good few moments until I decided I wanted to go back in if he wasn't going to talk but as soon as I turned around he grabbed my arm again and brought me back to face him. Again the staring ensued and I was really starting to get annoyed.

"What's going on Jude if you aren't going to say anything let me go I was enjoying my time with that guy" I said

"I can't let you go back in" he said hastily

"Tell me why then as I'm not going to stand here forever" I said

"Because I'm jealous ok I don't know why but seeing you with that guy made me realise that I've been lying to myself for a long time I do have feelings for you I've just been trying to tell myself I don't as I don't want to ruin our friendship" he admitted

"What you have feelings for me?" I questioned in complete disbelief

"Yeah I do I know that I made it seem like I didn't see you that way but I have had feelings for a while I just didn't want to change things between us or make things awkward with you and Jobe as I know how close you both are but I can't keep lying I want to be with you y/n" he said

"I think it's pretty clear that I still have feelings for you and I really want to give us a go I know it will be different but let's be honest Jobe’s been wishing we'd get together for ages so I'm sure everything will be ok" I said

"Then will you be my girlfriend officially?" He asked

"I would love to" I smiled

"Now let's go and have some proper fun" he said taking my hand to lead me back inside

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #football imagine

205 notes · View notes

comet-forgot-you · 5 months ago

Note

Hiii comet, how are you? I'm the anon who asked for bassist reader x Max (reader eats Max backstage after the show) and it was the most perfect thing I've ever read!!

I was thinking about a part 2 (if you want to do it, if you don't want to that's fine!!) where R's band need to hire a photographer to take their pictures for an album and it turns out Max is the photographer hired, so they pose for the photshoot and at the end R tells the band to go ahead and stays behind to help Max "organise her stuff", but R acutally ends up eating Max again (reader loves giving Max head confirmed!!). At the end R is trying to ask Max out on a date but it's too nervous about it and Max is like "🤨🤨 you just eat me out like its the air you need to live and now you can't ask me out? 🤨🤨" but kind cocku about it because well its Max... she'll be cocky about it!

Again only write this if you feel like it, no pressure and no need to do it 🫶🏼🫶🏼

yes ofc bby. pt. 1 here.

smut. 18+ pls.

do not repost for any reason.

music blasted through the speakers of your car as you sped down different streets, heading to some rundown part of town for a photoshoot. your band had grown over the past few months, your fans begging for any new music from you guys. you had spent almost 2 years working on your newest album, and it was finally finished and ready for release.

you pulled into an almost empty parking lot, the only other vehicles there being ones of your bandmates. you parked next to them before getting out, heading into the studio. your band’s music rang through the small building and you followed the sound until you found them.

“late as always,” your drummer, alex, spoke the second they saw you, a bright smile on their face.

“shut up,” you mumble, moving to join their small group, wrapping an arm around the guitarist. they laugh at you and you cant fight the smile that makes its way onto your lips.

“this is max,” alex introduced, nodding over to the girl standing in front of them, camera in hand. you recognized her the second you saw her, of course you did. you hadn’t been able stop thinking about her after the concert. she always seemed to pop into your mind the second you were horny and alone in bed. you always thought back to the pretty noises she made, her taste, her smell, her. you has been hoping you’d meet her again at some point, this time making sure that you would see her again.

“max,” you mumble, nodding towards her, “nice to see you again.” a faint blush crosses her cheeks at your greeting, a smirk pulling at your lips.

“hey,” she greets quietly, suddenly nervous.

“wait you guys know each other?” you look over to your bandmates, nodding.

“yeah, met her at the last concert.” you glance over to the girl, the memories of your last encounter running through both of your minds. she nods slowly in agreement.

“lets get started, yeah?”

hours pass before the shoot finally ends, your bandmates starting to head out, talking about heading to a bar. “i’ll catch up with you guys later, i’ll stay and help her out.” your group exchanges looks before nodding, shooing you back into the studio.

the music had changed since your group had walked out, changed to a much softer tone of music. “max,” you call out, walking into the now empty studio. she lets out a startled scream, jolting at your sudden appearance. you cant help but laugh, shes so cute.

“jesus fuck, you scared me. i thought you guys left,” her hand is against her chest as if she were slowing her racing heart.

“im sorry,” you laugh out, leaning over slightly. “im sorry. they left, but i forgot something, had to come back.” why did you lie? your heart was pounding and you could feel your cheeks flush. max looks around the room, searching for anything you could’ve left behind, but you fix her attention back to you.

her large eyes meet your own, flickering down to your lips. “hi,” she says shyly. you smile, letting your hand drop from her jaw to her neck.

“hi,” you whisper back. “i haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” you confess quietly, eyes flickering down to her lips. max’s head tilts slightly, eyebrows furrowing.

“im surprised you remembered me,” she mumbles quietly. the statement makes you scoff, hand dropping even further, holding her hip.

“how could anyone forget you? i told you i wanted to see you again.” max looks away, flustered. she scoffs.

“yeah right, im sure you say that to everyone.”

you don’t. you tend to be forgetful, never seeming to maintain a memory of names, but max’s stuck with you like it was handwritten in your brain. “i don’t.” max rolls her eyes, her hand dropping to hold your wrist. you tug her closer to you, “can i kiss you?”

max doesn’t respond, her eyes searching your own. your eyes cant choose where they want to be, flickering between her eyes and lips. “please,” it’s desperate, you need to kiss her so badly.

max doesn’t respond, her hand instead cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss. her lips are soft, and you’re reminded of when the first time when she told you her name, the way she bit her lip.

you take her bottom lip between your teeth, tugging it as you moved to press kisses against her jaw. max’s hands find your head, her fingers tangling in your hair. “i need you,” you whisper in her ear, your hot breath sending a shiver down her spine. max takes your hand in her own, tugging you through the studio into a small lounge area. she tugged you on top of her as she laid back on the small couch, your lips connecting once more.

your hands wander all over her, you fingers caressing the skin just beneath her clothing. “please,” she whines out, arching into you. you smile against her lips, pulling her shirt off. your trail kisses down her body, sucking deep marks into her pale skin. one hand held you up, the other struggling with her jeans, too caught up in covering her body with decorations of you to focus your full attention on getting her pants off.

the second you’re able to unbutton her jeans, you pushing yourself off of her, pulling the denim off of her, underwear, too. your eyes meet her soaked cunt, the one you always thought about. you’re tongue is on her before you know it, lapping away at her folds.

max is a whining mess between you, unable to keep herself still. her whines slowly turn into moans as you continue against her cunt, your tongue swirling around her clit in a slow, teasing manner. max’s fingers tangle in your hair once more, bucking into your face.

“stop,” she groans out, referring to your teasing actions against her pulsing clit. you cant help but chuckle, the vibrations leading to more moans from the girl. your tongue goes from teasing her sensitive clit to prodding at her entrance. “please,” max is desperate, she needs you as badly as you need her. you give in almost immediately.

you wrap your lips around her clit, fingers slowly sinking into her cunt. its more like they’re sucked into her cunt, her pussy greedily taking you in. “fuckk,” you groan out against her cunt. her walls flutter around your fingers, a pathetic whimper leaving her lips.

you scissor your fingers in and out of her, lapping at her cunt like it was your final meal. max arches her back off of the couch, pushing her cunt into your face. she was close, you remember the way her body reacted the last time.

her walls clamped around your fingers, loud moans bouncing off of the walls. its not long before her orgasm is washing over her and you’re lapping it all up, not a single drop wasted.

you help her ride out her orgasm before fetching her clothes, the ones you had thrown mindlessly throughout the room. you were stalling, really, trying to build up the courage to ask her out.

you handed her her clothes, watching her intensely as she redressed herself. she glances up at you, eyebrow raising. “need something?” you swallow your nerves, now or never.

“you, um. i just wanted,” you huff at your inability to get yours words out, eyes avoiding hers. “i just, do you, fuck.” this was so stupid, how were you stuttering this badly trying to ask her on a date?

max scoffs, pulling her shirt over her head, “you just ate me out like your life depended on it, whatever it is you’re trying to say, say it. quit being nervous,” she spoke,

moving to stand only inches away from you. you reach a hand out to hold her waist, her words making you feel even more nervous. you groan out, head falling back slightly before you respond.

“do you want to get dinner sometime?” max smiles, pressing a light kiss to your lips.

“yes, i do.” she smiles, walking away from you to retrieve a pen from the small table beside the couch. she holds her hand out and you place your hand in hers. she writes her number down on your palm, the sensation making you want to cringe but you stay still, too afraid to pull away.

the second she lets go of your hand, you’re pulling it back to read the numbers written down, they’re clear, a small heart drawn beside it. you don’t even make it out of the building before you’re entering her phone number into your phone and saving her contact. you didn’t want the ink to accidentally smudge, did you?

#mikey madison #mikey madison x reader #wlw smut #i want max #max fox core #max is so cutsie #max fox smut #max fox x reader #max fox better things #maxine fox #better things smut #better things

79 notes · View notes

gavisuntiedboot · 2 years ago

Note

Whenever you have the time could you write about Gavi with a gf that is a bit reserved and touch starved, her love language is physical touch but she doesn't initiate it with Gavi because her ex always told her she is clingy and annoying so she's insecure about it, so Gavi tries to show her it's okay by always cuddling her, or touching her in any way. And then over time she starts to initiate the cuddling/touching and Gavi is so proud and happy because she finally feels comfortable with him

Your writing is amazing btw, I've decided to wait for you to finish Just Pretend completely to continue reading it because whenever I finish the last chapter you post I get so sad because the next one isn't out yet and I can't live in the agony of not knowing what happens next

Pls hold my hand

"Princess, why do you have a sweatshirt that says ‘clingy’ on it?”

You looked over to Gavi, who plopped himself down on the couch next to you, grabbing the remote to cue the Netflix show the two of you had been watching for the last several weeks, eager to finally watch another episode, as the two of you held your shared series’ to a sacred standard. With only two episodes left of the latest “Drive to Survive”, you didn’t want to delay the experience with too much conversation.

"Just and inside joke between me and my friends.” You said, avoiding eye contact and focusing on the bag of m&m’s in front of you.

“Your friends think you’re clingy?” He asked, turning to face you as his hoodie slipped from his head, messy brown locks on full display. One of the things you adored about Pablo was how much he was always trying to protect you and look out for you. You weren’t really be confrontational, and this lead to some mistreatment and being pushed over at times by those close to you. Well, you used to. Since you and Pablo started dating about 8 months ago, he had been there to defend you against people who wanted to take advantage, and often was the voice reminding you to stick up for yourself.

“No no, it’s not them. It’s … something to do with my ex boyfriend. Do you still want to know?”

Gavi tensed at this. Despite you never saying anything explicitly negative about your boyfriend, all the stories Gavi heard made him hate the man with a burning passion. He had slowly but surely messed you up in so many ways, and now as Pablo worked to slowly unravel the knots tightened around your heart, he couldn’t help but curse the man that tied them to begin with.

“Yeah. You can tell me.”

You shifted in your seat, rather uncomfortable with the topic, but not wanting to lie to your boyfriend.

“Well, remember that little love languages quiz I made you do? Well I did mine like years ago, and I got physical touch. Which makes sense right because that’s one of yours and we seem to be getting along pretty well.” Gavi giggled at this, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and causing you to tense.

“Well, my last boyfriend wasn’t super into like… touching? Fuck that sounds sexual. I mean he didn’t really like being touched or cuddling or all that couple stuff. Didn’t like holding hands either. And like this one time, he was watching something on his computer and I was feeling bold or whatever and tried to sit on his lap — he hated that though. He liked pushed me onto the floor and told me to stop being clingy.” You forced out a laugh, trying to lighten the mood and soften the look of horror that had occupied Gavi’s face.

“That was actually why I broke up with him. Anyways I didn’t hug any of my friends for a month after that, and when they finally confronted me and I told them why, they got this made me for me. See, look at the sleeve,” you said, stretching out your arm to show him the ‘pls hold my hand’ embroidered on the sleeve. “So now whenever I’m in my clingy sweatshirt, my friends give me a ton of hugs and stuff. It’s funny. I think.” You say, winching slightly by the fact that Pablo’s eyebrows are still pushed together in anger.

He muttered his grievances about your boyfriend while cuddling closer to you, pulling you into his chest. Your cheeks warmed as they were pressed against Gavi’s beating heart. Despite the long time you had been dating Pablo, you still were shy when it came to initiating any sort of affection. You were too scared of annoying him and pushing him further away. So you remained shy and reserved, only responding to the touches he initiated.

“Give me your hand, silly. Never been with a girl who came with instructions before. Maybe I should get you a pair of panties that say-“ his sentence abruptly ended with a pillow to the face. You giggled, trying to pull away from his grasp, but he just pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you now.

“Oh no no princesa. You’re not going anywhere. Now hush and make mean comments about Verstappen with me.”

Over the next few weeks, Pablo had made an active effort to make you more comfortable with being physical with him. Whenever the two of you were out, he held your hand or had you two link arms. He hugged you and kissed you on the cheek or forehead, asking, “you don’t want to give me a kiss back, Amor?” Puppy dog eyes and adorable pout on display, you coyly returned the peck to his jutted out lip. He smiled widely, teeth almost blinding you. He returned with an attack, kissing you across both cheeks, and ending with a searing kiss to the lips.

His favorite time was when you two watched shows together. He would always pull you in close, cuddling with you next to him on the couch. He would lean close and whisper his comments about the show into your ear, making your skin erupt in goosebumps as his breath famed over. He would press kisses into your temples, breathing in the sweet smell of your hair, and reminding you how much he loved being around you.

“You’re so warm amor - my personal furnace. I love it.”

“Your skin is so soft, feels so nice.”

“I wish I never had to get up from beside you.”

After three weeks of hand holding, kisses, and encouragement, you finally found the confidence to approach Gavi to heal your touch starvation. You put on your clingy hoodie again, laying out snacks on the coffee table and firing up her Netflix.

“Princesa I’m here! Where are you?”

Running to the door, you wrapped both arms around Gavi’s neck, pulling him into you and greeting him with a firm kiss. As he recovered from the unexpected greeting, you informed him that you would be in the living room pulling up a new series. He followed closely after kicking off his shoes, and peeling off his Barca jacket, picking up the hoodie you had laid out for him.

“Did you change shampoos? Used to be peach and now it’s strawberry.”

“How could you tell?” You asked, grabbing some drinks as Pablo got comfy on the couch. He crossed his arms across his chest, legs spread and back slumped.

“My clothes smell different around the shoulders. That’s usually where your wet hair sits.” He looked over at you, watching your eyes go wide. “Amor, you know I love you, stop being surprised when I actually act like it. Now what are we watching?”

Taking a deep breath, you walked back over. You grabbed the remote, pressing play.

“The new season of Black Mirror is out and I’m dying to see it. Heard this one is creepier than normal.” As you explained, you walked over to Gavi. Before he could move to make space for you on the sofa, you draped yourself over his lap. Your legs were to his side, back pressed to his chest. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and you laid your head on his shoulder. ‘Deep breaths it’s okay he’s not going to push you off.’

Pablo was stunned for a moment, so much so that he remained motionless. Once the shock wore off and he felt your slight tremble, he brought his muscled arms around you, pulling you tightly against him, soft lips pressing to your pulse point and freeing a soft gasp from your throat. He rested his head atop yours, the pressure and warmth comforting and familiar.

“Look at you being bold cariño. If I knew it would get you to sit in my lap we would’ve done this months ago.” You giggled softly in response, turning to face him. You rested your forehead against his, gazing deeply into the deep brown pools of his eyes. Leaning in, his lips eagerly met yours, refusing to release you. When you finally pulled away, you resumed your comfortable position in Pablo’s embrace. “I’m so proud of you, princesa.” The two of you fell into s comfortable silence, enjoying the show, squeezing each other tighter whenever things got intense.

“Can I get a matching clingy hoodie for whenever I want cuddles?” Pablo asked, smiling at you from above.

“I don’t think so, Pablito. You would never take it off.”

~~~

Guys I have the worst headacheeeeee but yay I posted!

#gavisuntiedboot #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #pablo gavi imagine #gavi x reader #gavi x you #fc barca #gavi imagine #pablo gavi x reader fluff #pablo gavi x y/n #gavi x yn #gavi #gavi fluff #pablo gavi fluff #gavi fic #pablo gavi fanfic #pablo gavi fanfiction #gavi fanfic

564 notes · View notes

brainrotcharacters · 1 year ago

Note

HIII! could you please write a nami x f reader?

maybe just them being domestic? like the side of nami most don't get to see, r always has

they've been together for a couple of years now

things like cuddling (facing each other), night routines, etc

r is shorter than nami too, top of head just barely (if even) reaching her chin (this is needed info for any hugs🤭)

pls and thank you! :) <<<333

ship: Nami x fem!reader

summary: A day in the life aboard the Going Merry, as Nami's girlfriend from home.

a/n: requested by @fairy-geek-ackerman

tags: reader is shorter than Nami, established relationship, cuddling, events occur after one piece live action season 1, events occur in the span of a day, I now headcanon Nami as gift giving love language, reader is physical touch love language, we vibe with Sanji because Sanji vibes with us, Zoro cameo

"There you are." You yawn, ascending the stairs to the stern of the boat. Nami smiled at the sound of your voice, one hand idle on the helm as she examined her maps.

"I'm not going anywhere, you know." The early morning sunlight was soft against her features as she peered up at you. The wind blew stronger for a moment, and her free hand shot out to pin the map page on the nearby desk.

You lift one of your daggers― decorative, inlaid with polished stone, and heavy enough to act as paperweight. You place it on the upper left corner of the largest of the maps. "I know. Luffy would get you back."

Nami chuckled. After Luffy and the rest of Nami's boys had freed Coco Village from Arlong's crew, they learned about the girlfriend that Nami left at home. It didn't take much for them to convince their navigator (Nami wanted for you to come with them anyway) to invite you onboard.

"Oh, wow." She stepped back, watching you pluck up all sorts of things from your pockets to help pin the maps in place. Aside from the dagger, she also recognized a bracelet with a real citrine stone, and a glass vial of dried blue paint courtesy of Nojiko. "You never threw anything away, did you?"

"You said you liked giving me gifts," you lean back against the desk, protecting the rest of the maps from the wind. "So I'll keep every gift you give me."

Her eyes softened, a combination of fondness and understanding as she studied you. "You're very... you."

Your lips curl up in a small smile. "I love you too."

Nami reached out a hand, and you stepped into her arms, the top of your head barely reaching her chin. Her grip around your waist was more affectionate and confident than before. You lift your chin, nuzzling into her neck.

The scent of tangerines clung to Nami's skin. She must have checked on the garden earlier. You breathe in the scent of home, the scent of her, and your own arms wrap around her body a bit tighter.

After what felt like an eternity but was only actually a minute, an elegant male voice interrupted the peaceful creaking of the ship's hull. "Isn't that adorable? I've never seen you be so affectionate before."

Sanji was smiling up at you both from the foot of the stairs, bearing a tray in one hand. Two steaming cups sat on the tray. "Good morning to you two lovely ladies. Made you your coffee, as requested. For Nami, two milks, one sugar; for Y/n, two milks, two sugar."

He reached halfway up the stairs before you happily accepted the tray from him. "Much appreciated, Sanji. Thank you."

"Of course," he tilted his head in a graceful nod. "Breakfast will be ready in an hour. I suggest you get there ten minutes before Luffy does."

Nami returned to the helm, smiling as she reached for her cup of coffee. "We'll be there. How'd you know what coffee I liked?"

Sanji motioned towards you, and you offered your girlfriend a sheepish, shameless smile. Nami smiled over the lip of her cup, rolling her eyes.

Even with your nose buried in the novel you were reading, you can feel Zoro's attention on you and Nami.

Both of you were sitting on the stairs at the ship's bow, Nami seated behind you so she could braid your hair close to your head. Her legs are braced on either side of your body, and from the way you felt them stiffen, you could tell she had a thin tolerance for Zoro's glancing. "What?"

He didn't need to be addressed, but still reacted. "Nothing."

You sucked on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing. You can feel Nami's frustration make her fingers heavier. Three... Two... One... "Since when do you know how to braid?"

You couldn't help but snicker, patting Nami's knee at your side. She understood your cue, and let you explain. "My dad taught us. Nojiko and Nami often visited the house when we were kids."

Zoro studied you for a moment, then turned his attention back towards the island several miles away. "All right."

Luffy wanted to dock here because he said he smelled something delicious, which Sanji interpreted as a personal challenge. Usopp had joined them out of whimsy. Luffy asked the three of you to stay aboard and protect the ship, but you heard Nami mutter how he just didn't want her and Zoro to keep him in line. "Think they're okay?" Zoro asked.

The tallest building on the island suddenly exploded.

Zoro looked surprised for all of two seconds before he groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. Nami's fingers froze in the middle of another braid in your hair. "Seriously...?"

You offer her a hair tie, giggling. "Just tie it where you stopped, and let's go."

That evening, when everyone had settled in to sleep, you and Nami laid together in bed. Your arms were snugly wrapped around her bare back, skin flush against your own. You returned to your natural position, lifting your chin to nuzzle her neck as she slowly untangles the braids in your hair.

Along with the creaking of the Merry and the sound of the ocean waves, Nami's breathing was incredibly soothing to hear. "So. You survived another day with these idiots. What now?"

You let out a quiet chuckle as you fell further into sleep. "You won't get rid of me so easily, Nami."

Her chest rose and fell as she sighed. "Good."

"Mhhm." you snuggled closer against her, and Nami tangled her legs around yours.

When you were able to find a comfortable position, you started kissing the skin of her collarbones softly. Nami smiled, smoothing out your hair. "Good night, Y/n. Love you."

"I love you, Nami." You murmur into her skin.

#one piece live action #one piece #opla nami #opla nami x reader #one piece live action nami #opla x reader #one piece live action x reader #nami x reader #nami x fem!reader #nami x f reader #opla nami x fem!reader #one piece live action nami x fem reader #you have to know that the best part of your request was the height difference #my touch deprived ass connected cuddling to height difference

338 notes · View notes

sunnylolli · 1 year ago

Note

omg omg pls expand more on the punk dad au thing with matthew like how old is he when he comes to live with arthur?? was his mother horrible???? how does he adjust to living with his dad and brother?

!!!!!!!

So it's a bit all over the place with this au right now regardning Matthew, so some of my posts may contradict each other a bit BUT!!!

This here mixed in with what I'll be writing here!!! I think is what I've settled on storyline-wise!

So, their mother isn't... A great gal.

She's not invested in the kids at all, she doesn't want to work, she doesn't want to parent, all she wants to do is sit around and get paid for sitting around.

When the twins are born, she and Arthur are living together in a flat in Manchester and it's just horrible with how little she does. Arthur works, gets home, sees the disarray and the twins upset. It comes to a peak where they're in a screaming match about their situation and she willingly gives Arthur custody of Alfred with the comment "You take that one, I'll take the other, let's see which one turns out the best!"

Arthur and Alfred move in together with Gilbert who lives in London for a time until Arthur manages to get them an apartment, and over the course of 3-4 years, Arthur decides to take up the custody battle for Matthew.

Arthur's begun studying at that time and balances work-Uni-free time with the help from Gilbert to care for Alfred while Arthur's in court in manchester fighting tooth and nail to get Matthew home with him.

And he does!!! A few months before the twins' birthday, Matthew is 4 3/4 when he's moved home to Arthur.

Their mother is a yeller. She has a short temper, she drinks and most of the time she's been yelling and complaining about every single thing Matthew does. It would always be too loud. Nothing would ever be right. She's the parent to freak out over a spilled glass of water, and of course then Matthew learns to be quiet. To walk quiet, to eat and drink quiet. He learns to fade into the background to not be noticed. He doesn't move much and one of the first things Arthur notices about him is that he says practically nothing.

Like they arrive at the apartment just the two of them (Alfred is with Gilbert to minimize the amount of new things Matthew's exposed to at once) and upon opening the door Arthur says something like: "Well, here's home. Does it strike your fancy?"

And Matthew looks around shyly and says absolutely nothing. He kind of nods, but makes no attempt to reply. And that's how it goes for months.

He's introduced to Alfred in the evening when Arthur has shown him around and introduced him to his bed and everything. Luckily Alfred loves to chat, so there's no hard feelings when Matthew stays quiet at his barrage of questions. Alfred just moves on to talk about something else.

Alfred speaks for both of them! When they're out looking for a uniform to wear, Alfred notices Matthew fidgeting with his blazer and tells Arthur, very loudly, that he should get a bigger size for him, because he looks uncomfortable. He holds his hand when they're outside. Alfred generally just takes a huge big brother role and it's largely thanks to how much he talks that Matthew eventually picks it up and start to speak up more, too.

Although he's very quiet. Alfred's good at shutting up whenever Matthew tries to talk, so it's fine, but he does also blatantly tell him to speak louder. In that super brotherly teasing way.

The way Arthur helps him is by being the dad of all time. As I've said before, Punk dad Arthur is the chillest, healthiest possible version of Arthur there is.

He's patient (Mostly. With the kids, he's patient), he doesn't blow small mistakes out of proportion, he talks when Matthew doesn't. He keeps asking him for opinions, how his day's been, how he's feeling, even if there's a big chance he won't be getting an answer, he keeps asking because 'I wouldn't want someone to stop speaking to me just because I can't think of any way to respond.' He celebrates the moments that he gets Matthew to laugh or smile, he makes Matthew's favorite food whenever he learns what it is.

Matthew is around 5 1/2 - 6 when he begins to feel comfortable giving answers, and Arthur tries so hard not to make a big deal out of it. It happens when he's walking the boys to school and he asks them if they know what they're going to be doing that day and before Alfred can respond Matthew pipes up with:

"We'll have about insects today, I think."

And Alfred will smile enthusiastically and agree with: "Yeah! We'll be looking at insects today! You said you'd like to look at a cricket, right?" And Matthew will nod.

And Arthur will be staring with his heart in his throat and pat Matthew lovingly on the shoulder and try and play it off with: "I hope you'll be learning a lot about those crickets today, then. I know they're insects, but that's about it."

And I'm still plotting out the rest of the details, but the mother will become a problem again when the twins are around age 10, I think 🤔

#ask #hetalia #hetalia ask #hetalia england #hws england #hetalia america #hws america #hetalia canada #hws canada #Punk dad au #hetalia headcanons #I have so many different ideas for this au it's all muddling together!!!

224 notes · View notes

heyidkyay · 1 year ago

Text

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part One

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Warnings: This is gonna deal with a lot of controversial shit surrounding Matty and his past I'm ngl, so if you're not into that then I'd suggest not reading this! But if you are, then hi!! I hope you enjoy?

Authors Note: I'm back...:)) Back with a series too, or it will be if this first part goes down well! Lmao so pls don't hate it! Butttt in all honestly, I do have to quickly thank @procrastinatinglikeapro for all the kind words she gave me on the snippets I annoyed her with recently and for forcing me to actually believe in this fic because I very much was on the fence about posting again. So thank youuuu, it means a whole lot<3 Also, the skeleton of this was taken from a very old fic of mine which I started during the height of covid that I've just been thinking about trying to better for a long while now, so... enjoy?

And I guess let me know if this is something anyone would want to read more of? Yeeeeah, I really don't know what else to write here now, it's been a while, so! Hi, help, bye:)

Masterlist

Chapter 1: He's got the whole world falling at his feet

“Yeah, yeah! I’m really into their sound at the minute! Honestly fell in love with their recent performance at the VMA’s– didn’t overdo it and kept it true to themselves. Definitely did a great job there, so well done with that one if you’re listening in, lads!”

I was grinning from ear to ear as I spoke into the microphone before me, which was to be expected whenever I was at work. Strange, yeah I know, but only to any typical person with the usual nine to five, because I truly did love my job. It was tough work, strenuous at times, contrary to what most might believe, but it was pretty much everything I’d ever dreamt of.

See, I’d grown up on the outskirts of this tiny village in the Isles, where everybody knew everything about everybody. Secrets were never well kept– you could just ask our local priest about that one, who often used to regale most of the confessions he’d heard in the only pub around for miles whenever he’d been pissed beyond being able to sit on his barstool.

It was also incredibly tight-knit, as in, all the kids who went to school together, then grew up and married one another, settling down and taking over the jobs that their parents or grandparents would soon retire from. Hardly anyone moved away, if ever.

In reality though, it was actually just a place I’d always felt like a stranger in. Where I’d struggled to fit in and make friends, to form bonds outside of the one I shared with my mum.

Which sounds sad speaking about it, but still true, I’d had a real tough go of it back in school. ‘Mouse’ was what they’d seemingly dubbed me back then, a nickname which had travelled throughout the masses all too quickly seeing as there had only been about sixteen kids in both my year and the one above.

The name had mostly started due to me just having been an extremely timid child, hiding behind my mum’s flowing skirts whenever we went into town and much preferring that of my own company whenever other kids were mulling about. But that fact hadn’t gotten any easier for me once I’d been forced out of school for a few years after an accident that had flipped my entire life on its head. Resulting in me being further isolated from the rest of the world and my fuck-face of a father running for the hills.

Still. Shit happened, I supposed, and I’d been forced to deal with it and grow up.

Too quickly, in truth.

So whilst everyone else had been out living, I’d been holed up in our little dove cottage miles away from them all, with only books and music to keep me company. Music which had been a true constant in my life and just about the only thing that had gotten me by.

As well as my mum, who’d forever be my rock. And back when we’d both been growing up– because that was how it’d always felt with us– she had constantly had the tele on full blast throughout the day, cycling through the freeview channels that played the recent top 50 and old school classics.

It was one of my favourite things to look back on now. Sometimes if she was ever in the mood, or when the power would finally flicker and go out completely when a storm hit, she’d spin this old phonograph her own father had gifted her in the days before she’d left home. The two of us would dance around the living room whilst she would clean on Saturday mornings and then hum to it as we settled in for a long downpour, her working on her trusty crossword whilst I would read or draw. The brass pavilion would croon out old French records she had bought long before she’d moved to the UK, and before she’d ever even met my father.

And I would just lose myself in it all.

It wasn’t just the basic premise of music that I had enjoyed though, it was everything else that also came along with it. The opinions, the reviews, the personal stories and thoughts, the way it could make a person think and feel.

So, for years I would just sit down at the kitchen table and write for hours on end about the sound, the rhythms I’d felt and heard, the lyrics that had had me bellowing out or playing on a never-ending loop in my head. And then, as a teen, Twitter had come along and had been just another way for me to express it all.

It was actually Twitter that had eventually led to all of this.

The radio.

At first, I’d never paid much mind to all of the people who had started to discover the small page I’d created, the few users that had enjoyed reading my inner thoughts. But then one day I had and it had been an insane concept to comprehend, the very idea that people cared enough to stop and read my thoughts, but it was also what had, ultimately, pushed me into continuing with it.

From there, opinions on genres of music and their style throughout different decades quickly turned into thoughts on up and coming artists, then actors and other A-list celebrities. So I had ended up spending an awful lot of time online, simply just tweeting about it all, on subjects followers had wanted to hear about and answering questions on whether I loved a certain album or this new EP.

The account had grown rapidly shortly after and by the time I’d had the balls to tell my mum I had wanted to leave home and make a start for myself, in London of all places, the account I used had gained well over fifteen thousand followers.

I went to uni down there and met people. People who didn’t shy away from me or shine a light on my odd quirks. I met my best mate there, too. And Finn was unlike any other. The platonic love of my life, or so I’d since dubbed. He was eccentric, witty, and didn’t care about what anyone else thought of him. Forced me to feel that way too, slowly but surely. And it had only taken a few weeks before he'd grown rather suspicious of my constant need to always have my phone near.

He had, pretty early on, decided that I must’ve had some secret boyfriend back at home that I’d yet to tell him about and had annoyed me about it at every twist and turn, basically backed me into a metaphorical corner. So to say I’d relented fairly quickly wouldn’t be a lie, and I’d told him all about the account soon enough.

Finn had actually been the one to suggest that I take it further, somewhere bigger, make it into something that people could actually tune into and not just read about. I had taken the consideration on board way back then, but had only acted on it when shit had hit the fan a year or so later. But we'll soon get into that.

So with it all, I ended up making an actual radio show out of my thoughtless Twitter account, allowing people to listen in and actually get to know the person behind the name.

That was essentially how ‘Mouse On A Mic' had come to life.

Yup, I’d kept the fucking nickname! I couldn’t not in truth, it was familiar, reminded me of the person I once was, and who I currently am now. But the only difference was, I’d given it a new story. I’d reclaimed it.

The show's audience grew fairly quickly during that first year, I was new on the scene and seemingly refreshing. I had a no-bullshit kind of attitude that my listeners apparently admired. I called celebs out on their crap and went to new extremes to conjure up inventive ways to get followers involved.

Ultimately ended up doing things that other radio presenters were too afraid to do at the time. Which was fair enough, in hindsight, they had actual endorsers and brands that were backing them up and funding their streams. Me, on the other hand, I had no-one to answer to for my mistakes or any of the backlash the show received. It was just me, sat alone in my bedroom, speaking into a mic.

Only, a few years had since passed and now it was me sitting in a quaint little studio in East London, not too far from my flat and walking distance from any and every coffee chain that the city had to offer.

Anyway, I forced myself to adjust my headset over my right ear as I wheeled closer to the table, aware of the one too many monitors and power cables I had to constantly avoid, and glanced upwards, locking eyes with my co-producer, Adi.

The girl shot me a hurried gesture, a circular wave of her hand that had me chuckling to myself even as I silently waved her off, knowing I’d already gotten off track one too many times this recording.

"Alright! It seems as though we've got to move on with the next segment of the show now! Unfortunately, Ads here has informed me that I can't just sit around all day and talk about Inhaler forever. A right shame that, don’t you think?”

I huffed theatrically whilst Adi merely shook her head in return, dark ringlets brushing the length of her shoulders as she mouthed the word 'prick' through the thick sheet of plexiglass that separated us.

Ignoring that loving endearment in favour of continuing on with the commentary, I hoped I hadn’t steered too far off track seeing as there was still an awful lot scheduled for today's show that I had yet to go over.

“So moving on!” I sighed on into the mic and rubbed my palms together, eyes flitting over the few sheets of paper I had perched before me, “It seems like quite a few of you lot, over on Twitter especially, have made it loudly known that you want to hear my thoughts on Manchester’s very own Matthew Healy. God, is there yet another scandal under his belt I don’t yet know about? Makes me wonder where he’s finding the time.”

I shook my head briefly at the bulleted point I’d been given and rolled forward in my seat. The wheels squeaked beneath my weight and I made a silent prayer that the mics hadn’t picked up the sound.

What a fucking topic, I thought quietly to myself and sent Adi a semi-amused smile before peering down at the recent headline she had handed over to me earlier that morning.

It was the same old thing. Expected really at this point.

“Healy’s at it again! Whatever will we do?” I gasped, playing up the whole thing as I stared down at a few images of the haughty singer that were plastered across the printout I held in front of me.

There were four of them, a quick succession of pictures that had all seemingly come from a clip at a recent concert. Bit blurry but the title gave away to what was happening.

A laugh bubbled up out of my throat as soon as I read the headline. “Oh God! It appears Matty Healy is– wait for it!– back at it again, only this time it seems he’s gone and traded off a drumstick for…” I paused to drum quite the anticipating beat against the tabletop of my desk and, as stoic as I possibly could, I then added, “A joint!”

A smug grin slid its way up onto my lips when I heard Adi’s faint cackle echo from just outside the booth.

“Honestly, I swear that everything this man does makes the rags! Reckon I actually saw an article about how he took his tea this one time. And like, do me a favour, yeah?” I rolled my eyes but relented, “A man of the people though, in’t he? He’s got to be! I mean, just look at this headline. Fucking who the hell writes this shit?”

Tossers, I supposed. But even so.

“It’s madness.” I muttered, gently clucking my tongue as I shook my head at the so-called news that had made the front page. “But anyway, I’m guessing that most people claim him to be the epitome of a real time rockstar, and sure, he might just be. 'Sex, drugs, rock & roll', all that shit. But really, how much longer is it going to last until everything goes tits up, hey?

“I mean, Healy can pretty much do whatever he wants at this point in his career, he’s got half the world either falling at his feet or complaining about him- has done since he was what, a kid? Following his parents amongst the shadows of their fame before he eventually stepped out and made an actual name for himself. Saying that, it still is insane to see how much he’s changed!”

And it was. Healy and his band had risen to fame so evidently, their music everywhere, they sold out shows constantly and had the privilege to fly across the globe doing whatever they pleased. But they’d also practically grown up in the limelight, Matty especially. So it was hard not to notice the resounding changes that shone through in all the news and gossip that ran riot.

“But, if I am being truthful.” I went on to say, thumb toying with the page’s sharp edge, “And when am I not? I thought that most of the shit that went around about him at first was a load of crap– publicity of sorts, if you get where I'm going with that. Or maybe just him being an idiot, a young lad who’s had to grow up with all these cameras consistently on him and had to basically learn what he can and can’t say in front of them. Slipping up from time to time, like most do. But, now? I’m honestly not too sure… It’s just a bit sad. Isn't it? There was so much potential there.”

I shrugged, a hearty sigh falling with my shoulders.

“I actually used to quite like his stuff a couple years ago, he’s got a way with words, with music overall really. Reckon if he’d gotten his shit together that he probably could’ve been ranked higher up on the list of rockstars. Could’ve changed or paved a way for newer musicians entering the scene. But not so much anymore. His songs lack the passion they once had, they’re not what they used to be. He works hard, I’ll give him that. Still, I can’t help but wonder if it’s just his band pulling his dead weight along with them now.”

I took a slow breath, then gazed down at the small amount of sticky notes I had pinned to the monitor beside me: the next segment. I’d have to wrap this one up quickly.

“Maybe that’s a bit harsh.” I said, chewing on my lower lip, “But honestly, I just hope that he takes an actual break sooner rather than later. The band looks spent and he just seems like he could do with some shut eye, some time away from all the cameras and prying eyes. Just so he can sort himself out good and proper, you know? Then again, that’s just my opinion among a sea of many.”

In truth, I really did think that Matty had real talent, that raw kind, and he seemed like a nice enough guy– or at least he had done, a couple of years back, before all the controversy and whatever else.

Now though, the man just seemed so caught up in it all, in the fame, the tabloids, the drama. Unaware of just how far he’d fallen.

Me, I’d seen it one too many times before, with many of the greats even, and as painful as it was to watch, what more could I say or do? I'm nobody in comparison.

I blew out a short breath.

“Fuck, that got all serious didn’t it?” I tried to laugh it all off and only felt a little more at ease when I finally glanced up and caught Adi’s sincere smile, “Anyway, onto our next segment, reading a couple of your lots tweets! Let's see what everyone's saying about our amazing Adi today, shall we? What was it last week, Ads, those yellow trousers you were wearing?”

“Oi, will you two please stop mucking about? We’ve got to get going!” I scolded without any actual heat, shaking my head as I held back a chuckle, forever amused by the infamous pair stood a way away from me.

I’d not long since left the studio, having walked with Adi to the nearby tube station so that she could hop a train home before I had headed on over to Finn’s. It was a typical route for me and not too long of a walk, but since arriving I’d been roped into packing up the many belongings that had been messily upended from the Spiderman backpack I was so often seen carrying about.

My gaze skittered over to the other side of the room once I’d teethed together the bag’s plastic zipper, over to where my son, Teddy, was currently in the midst of being whirled around by his godfather, tawny coloured curls flying in every-which direction whilst his cheeky grin grew even more prominent.

I felt the corners of my mouth lift upwards as I watched my best mate laugh at whatever it was the toddler had just said to him, tickling the boy’s sides as he did. If I was feeling incredibly sappy, I’d tell Finn then just how thankful I was to have him around, because he truly was incredible.

From the moment I’d found out that I was pregnant, Finn had been there for me. He loved my son almost as though Teddy was his own, he adored the kid like no other and had placed him on a pedestal high above everyone else since the day he was born.

Finn was always free to take Teddy whenever I had the show to fret about too, or if I was ever in dire need of another helping hand. He was fiercely protective of the two of us and I knew in the very depths of my heart that there would never be a hair harmed on my son’s head so long as he was around.

I was pulled from my thoughts just as the toddler in question came bounding over, giggling uncontrollably as Finn chased after him, his arms stretched out wide and crouched down low to mimic the small boy's height. I couldn't help but notice the matching grins they both wore.

“Help!” Teddy squealed as he flung himself into my awaiting arms, allowing me to wrap him up and settle him safely on my hip, using my frame as a shield to block him from Finn’s view.

"You can't hide from me Teds, I’ll always find you!" Finn taunted playfully, laughing merrily whilst he wiggled his fingers at Teddy, who was only just peeking out at him from over my shoulder.

Teddy squirmed in my grasp, giggling and screaming senselessly as he tried to dodge Finn’s oncoming hands that had since managed to softly graze his sides. I could only roll his eyes in fond exasperation, the pair never failing to brighten my day, and couldn't help but feel ever so grateful for whatever being had brought Finn into both mine and Teddy’s lives.

You see, Finn was the closest thing I’d ever had to a brother, let alone a best friend. He’d been the family I’d never known I’d needed, a home away from home. And I knew that I could always count on him for just about anything and he had proved that the day I’d turned up on his doorstep in the pissing rain one Tuesday night, utterly terrified after having just found out that I was expecting.

“Alright, you lot!” I began, batting away one of Finn’s advancing hands as he made to grab at Teddy's tiny ankle. “We've got to get home in time for your bath and tea, and I think Finn here has to pick up Liv from work.”

I was directing my voice towards the toddler in my arms but also sent a knowing look Finn’s way, one which caused the man’s eyes to widen in immediate realisation. ‘Liv’ was actually the lovely Olivia, Finn’s newest fling– only she had managed to last quite a while longer than the rest, a new record for him really.

“Shit, yeah.” Finn muttered mostly to himself before he hurried on over to his desk in the far corner. I could only laugh quietly, Teddy joining in too when he noticed, and watched on as Finn hastily started to grab at an array of items, shoving them into his jean pockets. Phone. Wallet. Keys.

When he was finished, and somewhat out of breath, Finn spun back around towards us and shot an accusing brow our way, not too pleased about having been the source of our mirth. Teddy and I couldn't help ourselves then and laughed a little harder at his impervious expression.

But with that all done and over with, I simply pressed my nose against the side of Teddy's head and smiled contently into his curls whilst Finn merely rolled his eyes at the two of us, chuckling before he made a start for the door. I followed just behind him, Teddy's backpack slung low over my shoulder and a happy little boy nestled in my arms.

***

People lover @/user1 Imagine being a mediocre radio host and thinking you know the ins and outs of the music industry.. #CancelMouse

102 @/user2 Don't mind me, reckon I just found my new favourite radio show:)

Ugh! @/user3 Mouse sounded proper excited today but switched up so quick when that 75 bloke came up://

Soloveme @/user4 Hate to see people supporting toxic behaviour, sit down.

Milk @/user5 Don’t hate me, I'll forever be a matty girlie!! But @Mouseonamic I kinda agree??

Paris @/user6 Do you think he’s seen it yet? > Too_shy @/user7 Probably, it’s trending rn >> Drummepls @/user8 Hope he’s okay and doesn’t take it as a personal attack..

He should’ve known really.

He should’ve fucking known.

Even in his drunken state he should have known not to look at what they were all fucking saying about him. Slumped on the floor of his hotel room, propped up against the bathroom door, too exhausted to think about moving, let alone try.

He’d only heard a small snippet, caught the last of a conversation on it in a cab ride back from the club the band had found themselves in. But he had heard it, and he had listened.

"He's got the whole world falling at his feet." He fucking wished. "Changed." Too right. "A load of crap- publicity of sorts, if you get where I'm going with that- but now I'm not too sure." Laughable, man. "It's just a bit sad." The story of his fucking life. "Potential." When’s he never not disappointing someone? "Lacks passion." Passion lies in living, mate, and he hasn't felt alive in a very long time.

"Not what it used to be." Who he used to be.

He lit another cigarette from a crumpled pack he’d pulled from his back pocket and watched on as a curl of smoke unfurled in the air. He only wished he’d gone and brought something upstairs with him, or grabbed one of them little bottles from the minibar before he had decided he’d needed a piss. But if he closed his eyes hard enough he could imagine it all going dark, the world just fading around him, and the cigarette was suddenly enough.

Though, even then he still couldn’t quite muffle the loud, pitying laugh that escaped him as he continued to scroll through the mass of tweets that never faltered on his phone. They were like a freight train, unable to stop.

Matty wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Never had he ever felt so fucking lost. Desperate for everything to just pause for a simple second. To stop and just leave him alone for a bit. To have the world let him wallow in the dark dank pit he's hollowed out for himself.

But what a fucking life, hey?

Carelessly, Matty thumbed across the dimming screen, his intoxicated mind too focused on the task at hand to remember why exactly it was he was even sitting there on the cold bathroom floor. Something to do with Hann, he supposed, or George. Perhaps another heated encounter? Probably.

The sound of his phone's keyboard echoed off the surrounding walls and he breathed out a self-depreciating chuckle when he clicked send on the tweet he’d been attempting to curate, not caring enough for the consequences. Hardly even thinking, in truth.

He was far too gone to care anymore, already knew firsthand what the repercussions would be tomorrow. But at that moment, he just wanted honesty. To tell the truth, for once. To let them all know that he knew he was a shit excuse for a person.

What more could the world possibly say anyway?

Everyone around him was the same. He was simply just a puppet on a string. They’d make him sing and dance until the day he finally wrapped those wired strings tightly around his neck, and then all they'd be able to do is sit back and watch the show. And he'd enjoy every unabating second of it.

Matty @/trumanblack 10s ago Radio shows are sick man, gotta love them! And I sort of am sad haha. And I do lie? We all lie, I spose. But just listen to the radio, kids! Open your ears!

He laughed silently after, thoroughly amused with himself, and tossed the phone off somewhere off to the side so that he wouldn’t have to look at it again.

Bullshit. It was all just fucking bullshit.

215 notes · View notes