#im writing this in the car at eight in the morning

[captain-jaggerys-best-hater]

In the intro song, Burr sings, "and me? I'm the damn fool that shot him," the use of the word fool implying that Burr knows this was a stupid decision and regrets it.

Throughout the entire musical, Burr remains relatively calm, confident, and collected. In Your Obedient Servant, he's still outwardly calm, still very confident, but is significantly more unhinged.

In The World Was Wide Enough, Burr takes small things, like Hamilton fiddling with the trigger of the gun or wearing his glasses, as a threat. If he had remained how he was originally, these things wouldn't have been anything more than a passing thought to him.

"I had only one thought before the slaughter. This man will not make an orphan of my daughter." - Being blindsided by rage causes him to not realize the fact that Hamilton also has children at home, and that his daughter is more than old enough to take care of herself, being well into her twentys at the time of the duel.

When realizing that Hamilton is aiming his pistol at the sky, you can hear the panic in Burr's. This is the point where he truly realized just what he's doing, that he didn't actually want to kill Hamilton.

"I walk towards him, but I am ushered away." - Using context clues, I feel it's safe to assume that this is Burr regretting his decision and wanting to help Hamilton.

"When Alexander aimed at the sky, he may have been the first to die, but I'm the one who payed for it." - Burr is going to live with the regret and pain from killing Hamilton for the rest of his life.

In Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story, Burr sings, "And when you're gone, who remembers your name?" which not just leads into Eliza's part, but can also be interrupted as Burr saying HE is the one remembering Hamilton's name. It haunts him.

Burr lived. Burr is the one who survived the duel, but a part of him died that day. The confidence and the collectedness.

[sungbeam]

nonidol!jung sungchan x f!reader

at some point beneath the glittering summer sun and along evening tides, you and sungchan tripped over the line drawn in the sand.

▷ genre, warnings. brother's best friend!au, friends-ish 2 lovers, family vacay + sungchan lol, swearing, kissing, fluff, humor, sungchan does go shirtless (it's a beach), mentions of food, mentions of alcohol; lee jeno, sohee, and anton r ur brothers! (so u have the lee last name but u "look more like ur mom"); barely proofread, also im sorry if this is boring my head has not been in the game for Months

▷ word count. 10.0k

DISCLAIMER: i DO NOT actively write for or stan riize; this is literally just a birthday present T-T so if dynamics/personalities aren't right, i literally don't know these guys 💀

a/n: happiest birthday to my beloved soulmate and wife @justalildumpling :')) i hope u like it <3

OFTEN when you came back home from work, your joints and muscles ached to the point you could barely stand, your hair felt gross on your head, and your eyes stung from dehydration and sleep deprivation. That was the toll of working closing shift at the restaurant you worked at, and had been working at, for the past several years. 

It wasn't out of the ordinary to see the lights in the house still warm and bright when you got home either. Your family was a handful of night owls, not discounting yourself. They had witnessed you in this particular rat-nest dump of a state time and time again, which was why you didn't worry about looking like Death Incarnate. 

“Hey.”

Your soul left your body. 

Sitting on your living room couch was not a family member. Though, he might as well have been a part of it from how much you had been seeing him lately. Jung Sungchan was your older brother Jeno's best friend, but Sungchan was in your year rather than Jeno's. The two met via the high school soccer team and had been good friends since. 

Years later, he was sitting on the living room couch, nearing one in the morning, his hair damp from a recent shower, T-shirt sleeves rolled up his shoulders, and his phone paused from the game he was playing. Your brain was too tired to even register the amount of muscle packed onto his arms (what the fuck—). 

“Sorry, did I scare you?” He chuckled sheepishly, reaching up to ruffle his dark hair, grown out slightly. 

“What are you doing here?” You blurted instead. Exhaustion meant that conventional politeness was completely defenestrated. It was one in the morning on a summer night… usually your older brother was out clubbing or drinking (not that you were any different, but you worked quite a bit more nights lately). 

Sungchan's eyes danced up and down your form. “Jeno and I decided we're gonna pull an all-nighter for the road trip in—” He glanced over at his phone, “—seven hours and just knock out in the car. How was work?”

Road trip? Car ride? If you could just make it to the shower… “It was fine. Tiring,” you said with a sigh. You trudged over to the far side of the room, behind Sungchan, into the kitchen. You grabbed a cup to fill with water, then drained it down your throat just as fast as it had been filled. 

With water in your body, your systems were finally coming back online. Road trip. Car ride. Your eyes widened. “Oh my god. I have to pack.”

“You haven't packed yet?” He queried, tone light and teasing as he watched the progression of your panic with amusement. “Even Jeno's packed.”

You sputtered back at him, “Quiet, you!”

Sungchan's warm laugh followed you out into the hallway and all the way to your room. You couldn't understand why your face felt so hot; you should have been too preoccupied to be embarrassed, after all. 

You slammed your bedroom door shut, dragging a hand down your face. You couldn't believe Sungchan just saw your I-just-worked-for-eight-hours-in-customer-service face. Not even some of your closest friends had seen the aftermath of your night shifts at work yet. 

Crazy. 

It wasn't every family vacation where a plus-one was invited. Your family tried to set aside time for these trips just for the six of you, but this time was an exception. Somehow—you weren't a part of the delegations—Sungchan was invited on this summer's trip to the coast. Your mom mentioned offhandedly it was because Sungchan “was a nice boy,” or something to that effect. Your family rented out a cabin right along the beach for a week, and the lot of you were going to be stuck in the family minivan for a good eight hours together. 

And if Sungchan was tagging along, that meant you were going to have to fight for the middle row seat or—

“Yn—you’re in the back with Sohee and Anton.”

You came to a screeching halt on your way out of the house, a bucket hat shielding your puffy eyes from the waking world, your duffle strapped over your shoulder. It was seven hours later—an ungodly eight in the morning. “What? Nuh-uh; I don't think so.”

Jeno stood only a few meters ahead of you by the door of the minivan, his hands primed on either side of his hips as if he was the self-proclaimed guardian of the car seating chart. “Well, I said so. Sungchan has longer legs than you—”

“Why don't you sit in the back then?” You shot back with a saccharine sweet smile. You were too tired for this shit. 

Sungchan scratched the side of his head as he walked out of the house to stand by you and join the argument, his flip flops thwacking against the ground. “Uhh, I can sit in the back middle seat. It's cool, dude.”

“Sungchan's too tall for the middle seat,” your dad interjected. He took yours and Sungchan's bags to add to the trunk. “Yn's in the back. Sorry, hon.”

“Dad,” you groaned. 

“You can switch with Jeno half way.”

“Dad!” Jeno squawked this time. 

Your father gave a tired sigh, saying more than he would ever say aloud. “Everyone in the car. Can't you two be like Sohee and Anton? At least they're knocked out.”

“They know they'll be sent to the back without question,” you pointed out as you made your way to the minivan. As you passed by your brother, you sent him a very potent stink eye, then clambered into the back row. 

Like your father had said, your younger brothers, Sohee and Anton, were already dead asleep. Their mouths hung open wide enough to catch any wayward fly with their heads angled back against their neck pillows. You snorted and snapped a photo of them to add to your collection of brotherly blackmail. 

Your mom was settled into the front passenger seat already queuing up driving directions to get to the coast. From your perch in the middle, you had a clear view of her phone screen—seven hours and two minutes. Yay. 

You supposed there wasn't anything too terrible about the middle seat; you were out like a light as soon as the car pulled out of the driveway. 

When you woke up, it was about four hours later, and your parents were having a hushed discussion amongst themselves and Sungchan. A baseball cap had materialized on top of Sungchan's head at some point when you were asleep, and the sleeves of his T-shirt were once again rolled up to expose his muscled shoulders. Did this guy not have a tank top?

“...I like it, at least—well, I don't mind all the extra requirements, and I know it'll help me reach my ultimate end goal, so.”

Your mom let out a hum of approval. “Ah, that's good that you like it. You'll be busy as a nurse.”

Right, Sungchan was in the nursing program. Your brother wasa kinesiology major, and you were going into law. It made for quite the diverse pool in the car. 

You opened your mouth in a yawn and fumbled your hand around your lap for where your earbud had fallen out of your ear, carefully so that you didn't shake off Anton's head on your shoulder. (Oh no, was he drooling?)

“Yn-ah, good morning,” your mother teased quietly. 

You glanced up, eyes going wide when you realized both your mom and Sungchan were now peering back at you. “Morning,” you murmured. Your fingers enclosed around your fallen earbud to tuck it into the case left in the bag at your feet. 

“Sleep well?” Sungchan piped up. There was that twinkle in his eyes, the same one from last night. It made your stomach twist in a way that was more pleasant than not. 

You cleared your throat, unconsciously reaching up to adjust the placement of your bucket hat and praying you didn't look like a sewer rat. “For the most part,” you replied. “How about you?”

He shrugged. “I had a decent power nap. Your mom says you're going into law. That's really cool.”

“Oh,” you blinked. “Thanks. And you're in nursing, right? That's cool, too—super admirable.”

Sungchan's mouth widened into a small grin. “Thanks. It's only our first year, but it feels like so much work already.”

“Right? Tell me about it…”

Less than fifteen minutes later, the family van pulled into the parking lot of a diner off the interstate, exactly halfway through your journey. The seven of you, weary and hungry, filed out of the vehicle and into the establishment. You and your parents slid into one booth, while your brothers and Sungchan occupied the one behind you. 

There was a low-spun fan swirling above your heads, an 80s song you vaguely recognized wafting through the air at a dull decibel. Your phone was stashed away in the bag tucked into your end of the booth seat while you idly sipped on your glass of iced water. 

You jolted at the feeling of something light hitting the back of your head. 

A gasp from behind you. 

You rolled your eyes, twisting around in your seat while picking the wadded up straw wrapper from your hair. “Who did it?” You deadpanned. 

The boys table was filled with sheepish expressions, to their credit. Your younger brothers, who were sitting on the far side facing you, thrusted their fingers in each other's faces in a torrent of blame and accusation. 

“Aish, never mind. I don't care who did it,” you dismissed. Your eyes caught onto Sungchan's. He sat just diagonally to your left and for some reason, his eyes on you made you feel warm. 

You flicked the wrapper back; it hit Anton square in the forehead. Jeno barked out a laugh. 

“Nice shot,” Sungchan nodded, extending his fist to you. 

You couldn't suppress the smile from coming onto your face as you bumped his fist with yours. 

Food arrived swiftly afterward, and it was demolished as quickly as it came. In the sway of a palm tree frond, the seven of you were back in the confines of the family minivan. 

The remainder of the car ride carried over quickly. Though Jeno unhappily sat his ass down in your previous spot with you claiming his from before, he and your other brothers snored away five minutes in. You didn't go back to sleep despite having a full belly and less than five hours of sleep under your belt; you watched the world pass by outside the window in a blur. 

Urban skylines melted into rolling emerald mountains and pastures, sank into palm trees and sandy shores that met a blue horizon as far as the eye could see. 

The beach house your family rented this year was a two story cottage-type. It was small, with only one bedroom and bathroom upstairs, a bathroom downstairs, and a living room and kitchen. The rest was all beach. It was determined that you and your mom would be given the honors of the upstairs bedroom and bathroom, while all the boys piled into the living room. 

Once everyone was settled in, there was little else to do but go make use of your new backyard for the next week. 

“Yn! Come on, slowpoke!” Sohee shouted at you from the shoreline with cupped hands. You saw his bare back as he splashed into the waves after Anton, who was already only a speck in your vision. 

Your bare feet sank into the sand, and you wiggled your toes between the warm grains. Sunshine, glorious and concentrated above the distant horizon, soaked into your skin. Ah, this was the life.

Just as you reached for the hem of your shirt to reveal your bathing suit, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Jeno and Sungchan were coming onto the beach from the front of the house, a disassembled volleyball net hanging between them. 

Your eyes nearly fell out of your head at the sight of Sungchan's back—

Before Jeno or any of your other brothers or Sungchan could catch you ogling, you gave yourself a nice, mental slap to the face. No more. You needed to stop this. When did you ever look at Sungchan like this?

(You could still remember when he was the gangly kid with the growth spurt trying out for the high school soccer team. He was paired with Jeno to test his potential, and the rest was history.)

Sungchan was the first to spot you as he and Jeno determined a place to set up the net. He beamed boyishly, his chin inclining toward you. “Hey, wanna play?”

Your eyes flickered to the corded necklace hanging from his collar and between his—Yn, shut the fuck up. “Sure,” you said simply, feigning nonchalance. 

If he noticed your wandering eyes, he didn't comment. Instead, he nodded back at you. “Sick.”

You both turned back to your original tasks. Your hands went back to the bottom hem of your shirt to tug it up and off your body. (Maybe you weren't the only one with wandering eyes, though.)

You draped your clothes over the back porch railing and began making your way down to the shoreline. “I'm gonna take a dip and then come back up!” You said to Jeno and Sungchan. 

“Oh, okay—ow!” 

You didn't see nor hear what happened, but when you glanced back, Sungchan had his back turned to you as he furiously rubbed the back of his head, while Jeno smiled innocently. 

Your older brother waved you along. “Carry on!” He said. 

Walking backward for a couple steps, you shot him an incredulous look, then turned around to meet your little brothers in the ocean. Whatever. 

You had been staring at the wooden ceiling above your head for the past forty-five minutes. Your mom's even breathing and the ocean waves rolling outside the window failed to rock you into unconsciousness. You'd figured the sunlight from this afternoon would have made you tired, or perhaps all the food you ate for dinner, but your eyes continued to stay wide open. 

A quiet sigh fell from your mouth as you rolled over onto your side and gently peeled the covers off. With near silent footsteps across the oak floors, you slipped out of the bedroom and down the stairs. 

The cacophony of combined snoring from all the men in the living room was comparable to the volume of the waves just outside. 

You barely contained your snort of amusement. You didn't worry about waking any of them up as you crossed the living room, full of a smorgasbord of limbs and bodies draped across the large couch sectional and blankets on the floor. 

The back door was left unlatched when you reached its threshold. Outside, moonlight dappled across the calm sea like a sprinkling of diamonds. You slowly pried the door open, freezing. 

You and Sungchan made eye contact from across the back porch. He was perched on the top step, nursing a bottle of beer in his hand. A loose breeze wafted through the strands of his hair. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, moving to retreat back into the house. 

“Oh, no—please.” He patted the empty space next to him on the porch step. 

You blinked, at odds. He was clearly out here for a reason and you'd figured he wanted some space, but if he was inviting you, then… 

You closed the back door behind you and settled beside him, with a comfortable amount of negative space between your bodies. You folded your arms over the tops of your knees and stared out at the midnight horizon. It smelled of salt and sea spray, and the light wind was a refreshing crispiness against the humid evening air. 

“Couldn't sleep?” He murmured, glancing over at you. 

You nodded. “Yeah. You?”

He hummed in response. 

“I'm not surprised,” you said. The corners of your lips curled upward. “I wouldn't be able to sleep amongst my brothers either. Their snoring could wake a bear.”

Sungchan sputtered out a laugh as his eyes crinkled upward and he pressed the back of his knuckles against his mouth. “I wasn't gonna say it, but…”

You shared a grin with him. “I will happily say it for you, dude.” 

His eyes were stunning in this lighting. The moonlight hit his irises at an angle that made them shimmer like a shade of molten copper. He licked his lips, and you saw his eyes dart from your eyes, down a few inches, then further down to the beer bottle in his hands. 

“Oh, uh,” he stammered, tipping the bottle nose in your direction, “want some? I thought the alcohol would help me sleep, but it's not looking awfully promising.”

For a split second, your heart leapt at the thought—your mouth pressed against the place his mouth had been, tasting the place he'd drunk from. 

You dashed the thought from your mind. It couldn't have been so significant as your brain was making it out to be. You were probably just sleep deprived. 

“Thanks,” you said while reaching across the gap to accept it from him. Judging by the weight, it was just about half full, and you took a light swig. 

A drop of liquid dribbled out of the corner of your lips, and you swiped it with the pad of your thumb, sticking the finger into your mouth to suck it off. You passed the bottle back over to him, catching his eyes not looking at yours. 

(The organ in your chest was no longer in your chest. Was it normal for your heart to make a home in your throat instead? Why did he look at you like that?)

“Any reason for not being able to sleep?” You asked him to break the silence. “I mean, besides the symphony my brothers and dad are conducting, of course.”

His eyes shuddered, as if breaking out of a trance. “Oh, uhm—nothing in particular, I guess. Maybe it's just from all the excitement. I think it's usually hard for me to sleep in new places.”

You bobbed your head in understanding. “No, I get that. It takes me a little to get used to new environments, too. I don't know how I would have survived if I was living in the dorms at uni and not at home.” The university you attended was a decent commute from your house, so living on campus was never something you gave much thought to. The idea of living independently appealed to you sometimes, but in general, you didn't have a ton of qualms against your circumstances now. 

“For sure,” Sungchan whistled lowly. He contemplated the opening of his beer bottle, then took a gentle sip of its contents. “Have you made a lot of friends? I feel like it's a lot harder than people make it seem.”

You passed him a curious glance this time. “Some, but it's definitely not as easy as high school. You haven't made a lot of friends?”

“The soccer team, mainly,” he chuckled. “The occasional ally in my classes.”

You let out a bright laugh that made his smile widen. “'Ally?’” You parroted. “What a fun word to call classmates.”

“It's true!” He insisted, chuckling. “Some of these professors are evil, man. Competitive grades? Not a chance,” He scoffed. “We're all in this together, even if the curve is against us.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep from being too loud, but the rolling waves likely covered your noise plenty. Your family were deep sleepers. 

“I just figured that you meet lots of people,” you offered when your mirth died down to a giggle. You toed a pile of sand sitting on the last step of the porch. “Your socials are pretty active,” you said, “but I guess I shouldn't judge a book by its cover.”

“I could say the same about you, Miss Party Girl,” he smirked. “When are you gonna drag me to a rave?”

Heat raced up to your cheeks. “I've only been to one,” you said, rolling your eyes. He'd seen that post? First, the post-work daze, and now, the turnt raver? “I haven't gone to a party in a few weeks 'cause of finals anyway.” 

Now that you thought about it, you'd been so busy as of late, you couldn't even count the amount of outings you'd declined on your two hands. 

“Trust me, I get it.” He raised his hands in an act of surrender, his knees angling toward you. The negative space was suddenly a lot less negative. 

Another tip of his beer bottle; it swapped hands once, twice more. The liquid dribbled smooth down your throat just as Sungchan knocked the rest back. The empty glass made a dull thunk sound as it hit the wooden porch to Sungchan's right. 

“So what I'm getting,” you drawled, mimicking his position by angling your knees toward his. You felt your legs brush—the stimulus sent a jolt down your nerves that warned of addiction and tasted like the forbidden. “Is that you've never been to a rave before?”

Sungchan gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe I have.”

You mocked his shrug. “Maybe you have.”

“Or maybe it's just that I haven't gone with you yet.”

Even the waves seemed to quiet for a second. Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest, and you tied down the nervous laugh ready to bubble out of your mouth. You bit your lip and found yourself nodding. “We'd paint the town red, Jung Sungchan,” you murmured. 

There it was again—that flicker of his gaze to some place you both knew crossed a line. It was the beer, was what you were telling yourself. It was the beer. 

Seagulls surfed the ever-blue sky. Eternal summer could be thought of as a filter of golden, glittery gauze across one's already rose-colored glasses. But summer, truly, was the shade of Jung Sungchan's tank top peeling off his body as he sprinted down the sandbank after your brother, Anton. 

You watched the fabric whip around in the salt breeze before settling into a heap where his footprint melted into the mineral grains. You were giving Sohee the sunscreen spritz-down up on the covered porch, while Jeno barreled down the bank after his friend and brother. 

From behind you came the scratch of the back door sliding open. You and Sohee peered back to where your mom poked her head out. 

She just barely caught her sunglasses in time as they slipped off her head. “Hey, your dad and I are heading out. Watch each other, okay?”

“Got it!” You and Sohee chirped. 

One more nod from your mom, and then she was gone. Your parents were going to take a date into town, just the two of them. That left you and the boys here with the surf and sand—definitely not a terrible compromise. If you wanted, you could probably have the whole house to yourself, anyway. These guys could entertain themselves. 

“Yn! Sohee!” 

Jeno arced one arm up into the sky to beckon you down to the sea, only to get dragged underwater by his two comrades. You and Sohee harked out twin laughs as you watched Jeno fight for his life with limbs flailing and foam flying into the sky. 

You patted Sohee's shoulder as you set the can of sunscreen onto the porch step. “Alrighty, you're good to go, bro.”

“Thanks—race you down!”

“Hey!” Your laughter echoed as you bolted down the sand after him to join the fun. 

As your feet dug into the wet embankment, your palms made purchase against Sohee's shoulders to shove him into the water. A yelp leapt into the air, and you turned away to avoid getting hit in the face with the consequence of your prank. 

“I'm so gonna get you for that!” Sohee spat water out of his mouth, a wicked grin pulling onto his lips. 

“No, you're not, actually!” 

You bolted—well, stomped, your way through the knee-deep water, furiously trying to get away from karma. Water yanked down on your limbs in a forceful coax to give into your punishment, but you were determined. 

You could hear your brothers’ hollers of encouragement: “Get her, Sohee!” and “RUN, YN, RUN!”

Adrenaline pumped through your veins and you pushed your legs harder. 

“I got her!” Wait, was that Sungchan?—

You suddenly felt a pair of hands on either side of your waist—you swore as your legs came out of the water and your world twisted. 

“No, no, no, no, no!” You squawked, squirming wildly in Sungchan's arms as he scooped you into his hold like a bride. (NO. NOT LIKE A BRIDE. WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE A BRIDE?—) One arm cradled your back and the other under your knees, and he laughed—he chuckled—as you attempted to flip yourself out of his grasp. 

“You're not getting out of this, party girl,” he said close to your ear. 

For a heartbeat, you lost your breath at the rasp behind his words and the grin on his face. But a heartbeat was all he needed. 

There was free fall, and then all sound muffled as cold water engulfed your body. You plugged your nose and screwed your eyes shut. You felt your ass hit the sand at the bottom in slow motion, before the air in your lungs began to lift you back up to the surface of the water. 

You broke out with a gasp, hair flipping back as you furiously swiped your hands down your face to get the water out of your eyes. They stung like a bitch, but you could feel the rush of blood in your ears; it was thrilling. 

A hand in your vision enclosed around yours.

“You asshole!” You scowled up at Sungchan from where you knelt, though it was half-hearted. 

He beamed back at you boyishly with damp hair hanging in his eyes and water running down the crevices of his stomach like a goddamn system of canals. “You're a good sport, Yn.”

“I'm really not.”

You had the distinct pleasure of seeing the smile slip off his face before you used his grip on you to yank him into the water. You swallowed a good half pint of saltwater, but the revenge couldn't have been sweeter. 

When Sungchan's head broke the surface, it was followed by a dog-like shake of his head. You laughed to turn away from the spray of water; Sungchan delighted at the sound. 

Amusement still lingered on your lips as your eyes snagged on the piece of seaweed that made its home on his head. You didn't think twice about it before leaning closer to reach it. 

You stepped forward, and—oh boy, was that a mistake. 

You had a front row seat view of a droplet of water slipping down the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, and the cliff of his chin. You wrestled down a swallow, and pulled the seaweed off his head, flinging it into the water. 

“You had, uhm, a little…”

“Right, thanks—”

You both flinched apart as a man-made wave of water crashed into your sides. “AMBUSH!” Your three brothers declared, springing up out of the water and parading a full-blown attack with all weapons firing. 

You and Sungchan were swift to launch your own counterattack. 

Merriment filled the summer air as much as saltwater embedded into your skin and eyes and mouth. You almost made the mistake of thinking your racing heart was just from the determination to beat your brothers, and not from the guy on your side of the war. The heat was getting to you and the sun was getting to him.  

It was about an hour later that you found yourself lazing upon the slick and smooth plane of a surfboard. The ocean rocked you gently from beneath the board; it had been surprisingly calm all of today. 

At some point, you and the boys established a truce in the Great Water War, mainly because your brothers were hungry and there was a big, juicy watermelon just begging to be cut open and devoured in the house. 

Suffice to say, you let your brothers figure it out. 

Your consciousness faded into the foreground of your mind as a distant sound of splashing neared. You peaked one eye open, lifting the rim of the hat up to see who dared to encroach upon your isle. 

You could recognize Sungchan's mop of hair from a mile away, at this point. You couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing, but why did it have to be either?

He cropped up right beside you, pushing back his hair to keep the water out of his eyes. “Hi.”

A smile curled onto your lips, teasing. “Hi. Good swim?”

“Good nap?”

“As good as one can be on the open ocean,” you said, shifting the hat up so you could see him better, but keeping your face shaded. “I don't know how dolphins sleep with half their brain on.”

Sungchan's brows rocketed toward his hairline. “They sleep with half their brain on? Crazy.”

“I know. I can't even stay awake with half my brain on.”

You and he shared a laugh, and he set a palm on the board next to your body. “Aw, no,” he assured. “If you've got less than half a brain on at all times, then I've got one brain cell.”

“Joke's on you, half my brain is half a brain cell.”

He wrinkled his nose at you. Cute. “Sweetheart, hate to break it to you, but that's not how brain cells work.”

You nearly fell off the board. “Okay, Mr. Know-it-all, do tell.”

“I'm not about to talk about neurons on my vacation.”

You challenged him with a look. “Overruled, counselor. Answer the question.”

His mouth fell open in a stunned daze, and his reaction made you break face for a moment to laugh. He blinked. “I have to be really honest with you…” Sungchan carded a hand through his hair, then pressed his knuckles to his mouth. “That was really hot.”

Was it suddenly five degrees warmer out here? 

If blood rushing in your ears was akin to the sound of waves crashing, there must have been one hell of a tsunami in your veins right now. 

You sputtered a laugh. “You need to get out of the sun—”

“I'm sorry I said that aloud,” he grimaced sheepishly. 

“Nurse? Nurse!—” You feigned raising your head up to look around for an imaginary nurse in the middle of the ocean. “Oh, right. You are the nurse.”

He groaned, tilting his head back and playfully punching your shoulder. “You're so—”

“Hot?”

You howled at the sight of his cheekbones blooming the color of ripe watermelon. “I'm kidding; I'm teasing!”

He sighed, smiling despite the pain etched onto his gorgeous features. “Never living that down, am I?”

You shifted your position to laying on your stomach now, your arms folded beneath your chin. Sungchan carefully turned the surfboard so the tip faced him, and you were trapped in his gaze, head-on. “It was cute,” you consoled. 

“So you think I'm cute?” He cocked a brow. 

“And you think I'm hot.”

He flicked water at you. “Aaand, there it is!” 

You laughed again, delighted at the red lingering on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. God, he was fucking gorgeous. 

A beat passed for a second. Something settled between the two of you, a thing you couldn't yet put a name on, but it had been there since last night. Or maybe it had been there longer, festering in the negative space between you until said space could become something of a memory. 

You weren't sure why he was here—why he'd swum out here to meet you when his best friend was back at the beach house, gorging on watermelon and getting his ass handed to him in Mario Kart by his siblings; why he all of a sudden occupied a part of your mind like the tide creeping up the embankment at four in the afternoon. At first, he was far enough for you to settle into a false sense of security; until all of a sudden, there he was, the foamy waves lapping at your feet and his smile the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes. 

His tongue swiped over his lips and he cleared his throat. “So, uh, watermelon?” That was his original reason for coming out here. (He did volunteer, after all.)

You perked up. “Right, sure. Watermelon.”

“Great.” He broke into a smile, but the corners of it were softer, fonder. You could get used to the look of it. 

There was this saying—the elephant in the room—but here in the cabin living room, it was definitely more of a blue whale. Just completely out of the water, weighing about thirteen tons, the size of twelve school buses… yeah, that sounded about right. 

“GO FISH!” Anton flung his finger across the circle at Jeno with the glee of a kid on Christmas morning. “Suck it!”

Your mom sent an express glare his way. “Anton.”

Your youngest shrunk down sheepishly. “Sorry, eomma.”

The seven of you were settled in the living space this fine evening with a deck of cards. Your parents were on the couches watching the movie on screen and the game before them, while you, your brothers, and Sungchan huddled around the coffee table playing said game. Sunsoaked and weary, it only took one hearty and filling dinner to perk the lot of you right back up like a field of sunflowers.

“This is a stupid game,” Jeno sulked as he examined his hand of cards. 

“You only say that because you're losing,” you pointed out. “Anyways, Jeno, can I have that three?”

Jeno cut you a glare as the rest of the table rolled into fits of laughter. Your smile was cheeky, reaching out to snatch the three Jeno revealed he had during his turn. 

“That's cold,” Sohee snorted. 

Your eyes darted over to Sungchan opposite you. His eyes were glimmering. “Yeah, I didn't know you had so much ruthlessness in you, Yn.”

“Why do you think she's going into law?” Jeno grunted. Though one card less, it meant that he had one less pair in his finished pile. At this rate, you might win and end up with the most pairs. 

“Guys, it's literally just how you play the game.” You nodded over at Sohee. “Sohee, do you have a jack?”

Your younger brother handed it over without ceremony. “Unfortunately.”

“Anton, do you have an ace?”

He shook his head. “Go fish, noona.”

“See?” You said to the rest of the table, but your eyes went to Sungchan's. “The nature of the game.”

They let you off the hook because you didn't plunder everyone of their cards this round. It continued on with Sohee, then Anton, before landing on Sungchan. 

He made a show of considering his cards, a furrow between his brows. He glanced up at you over the rim of his hand and gestured with a curl of his fingers. “I'd like that ace, Yn.”

“Oooh,” Anton giggled. 

Jeno grinned as you extended the ace across the table to Sungchan. “Karma.”

“Thank you—” his fingers grazed against yours as he plucked the card from your grasp, “—very much.”

You pressed your lips into a small smile, nose wrinkling up at him. You had a few cards left to rid yourself of. 

Your dad cleared his throat as he stood up from the couch to bring his empty bowl to the sink. “By the way, are you kids still going into town tomorrow?”

The five of you exchanged brief eye contact with one another. “Yep.”

The idea had come up during dinner after your parents came back. They'd mentioned a variety of activities and little shops to visit that might be fun for you to see, including a hand churned ice cream shop and a port side arcade building. It would just be the five of you going, while your parents would walk down to the beach trails about a mile from the cabin to go hiking. 

In the morning, you and everyone else in the house took your time getting up and ready for the day. Breakfast was taken together at the table before you split off into your separate parties. 

Jeno took the wheel with Sungchan riding shotgun, and you sat in the middle row with Sohee, while Anton occupied the back. You rolled down your window to rest your chin on the fold of your elbow, your sunglasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you watched the scenery pass by. 

Right in front of you, Sungchan also had his window rolled down with his arm propped on the lowered sill. He chatted animatedly with Jeno about whatever game he and all three of your brothers were playing this morning, but you could feel his gaze go to his side view mirror more than once. 

The ride was an easy, breezy one. 

The main town center bustled with locals and visitors alike in the late morning. Jeno found free parking about a block away, and the five of you walked over as one big group. 

“Ice cream first!” Anton declared with one arm raised toward the sky. 

“I concur,” you chimed in. You lifted your sunglasses up slightly so you could read the town directory easier. “Seems like we're close by.”

Anton nodded in approval. “Onwards, then.”

You and your youngest brother led the way. The idea of ice cream made your mouth water, especially since you could already feel a bead of sweat dribble down your spine. Why was it so goddamn hot?

The shop was a cute, little building with a pink and white striped awning and a large window in the front that gave visitors a front row view into the ice cream churning experience. You snorted as Anton pressed his nose up against the glass, a wide grin splitting his face. 

“You're scaring the workers, dude,” you jested, tugging your brother along. 

Anton scrunched his nose up at you. “You scare me every morning.”

“Just because you're a wimp when I put toner pads on—hey! Do you want ice cream or not?” You cackled as he attempted to flick you square in the forehead. 

Jeno groaned. “Guys, can we please act normal for once?” He asked as he swung the door open for everyone. 

Sungchan beat you to the punchline, slapping his friend on the back while he ducked inside. “That's rich coming from you, man.”

“Hey!” 

The squabble was swiftly swept out of your mind when you stepped foot into the shop. You were nearly knocked over from the potency of the sugary waffle cone scent that occupied the room. At the sight of tubs upon tubs of frozen treats kept within the display case, your entire face lit up, eyes going glassy with wonder. “Oh no, too many to choose from,” you gasped, cupping the lower half of your face. 

Sungchan chuckled beside you as he crossed his arms and assessed the dozen options before you. “I didn't know you were such an ice cream fanatic, party girl,” he mused. He glanced over at you with a fond sort of gleam in his eye. 

“Don't even get her started,” Sohee groaned. “She and Anton have a sweet tooth to rival Willy Wonka.”

Anton flagged down one of the workers, having already found his targets to try. He was in here for less than two minutes and was already rattling off the entire menu to the poor girl behind the counter. 

“Tiramisu sounds really good,” you muttered. Your eyes moved slowly from tub to tub. Another gasp flew from your lips, and you clasped a hand on Sungchan's shoulder. “Wait—but strawberry shortcake—hhhhh.” You wrinkled your brows together, lips pressed into a taut line. 

This was not good. 

“You could always get a double scoop,” Sungchan suggested. 

You bobbed your head. “That's true, but I'm just worried I won't be able to finish, y'know.”

“Well, maybe I'll get one of the flavors you want and we can split.” His shrug was all too casual. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, biting his lip through a smile. 

The organ in your chest gave a hop, skip, and a leap. You weren't sure if it was at the thought of it all working out alright or if it was because of Sungchan's generous gesture. You were telling yourself it was the former, but you could be persuaded it was the latter if given a light shove in that direction. 

When everyone's scoops were paid for, you fell into a loose formation to stroll around town while you finished your treats. 

You and Sungchan were glued to each other's sides out of necessity since you were sharing flavors. Jeno walked on his other side, however, lapping at his cotton candy blue scoop seated upon a throne of waffle cone. The two youngest walked in front, leading you all to wherever they wished to go. 

The town itself was rather quaint when you finally soaked it in. It seemed like the kind of place everyone knew everyone, and if you were new or only visiting, the locals were just as friendly and welcoming. The town center was stocked with anything a resident might need—a small grocer down the street, clothing stores and restaurants lining the boulevard, a newspaper stand at the corner, a laundromat, a hardware store, and more places you were certain you wouldn't be able to see in just one walk. 

As you scooped a bite out of some of the last bits of tiramisu in Sungchan's cup, Jeno was summoned up to his brothers who were debating over which way they should turn next. You and Sungchan lingered behind to finish off the ice cream in your respective cups. 

Just as you slurped up the melted shortcake ice cream at the bottom of yours, your eyes caught onto a storefront behind Sungchan. It was decked out in cliché boho-chic, with braided nets, shells, and sand dollars in the window and over the door frame. The souvenir shop seemed to embody the quintessential tourist trap, and you didn't mind falling into it. 

“—guys, we're gonna go to the arcade now!” Jeno said, beckoning you and Sungchan over. They must have decided on a route then. 

You made your decision. “You guys can go ahead! I'm gonna pop into this place for a second. I promised I'd get my friend Minjeong something.” Minjeong was one of the few close friends you made at university, and though you didn't promise to her face you'd get her something, you were determined to get her a little trinket as a token of your affection. 

“You're gonna go alone?” 

You blinked. “Yeah, I'll just meet you guys at the arcade.” 

Sohee piped up, “But mom said buddy system.” Okay, you should probably honor that, but it wasn't as if the four of you always followed that rule. 

“I'll go with you.”

All eyes went to Sungchan who tossed his empty cup and spoon into the nearby trash can. He gave a nonchalant lift of his shoulders. “I wanted to get my mom something anyway.”

You tilted your head to the side curiously as Jeno narrowed his eyes at Sungchan, like they were communicating telepathically. Odd. 

In fact, you didn't really know what to think about being alone with Sungchan. There was a difference between coincidentally ending up on the porch together or conversing in the ocean away from everyone else, to purposefully breaking off from the group to spend time with each other. 

Then again, he said he was getting something for his mom. That gave a different implication to him volunteering to accompany you. The goal was capitalism, not something forbidden.

Maybe you were thinking about this too much. 

“Okay, fine,” Jeno relented. “We'll meet you at the arcade, but don't take too long or we'll leave without you.”

“Aye-aye,” you teased, raising a hand to wave goodbye to your brothers. “C'mon, Sungchan.”

You dumped your empty ice cream cup and spoon into the trash before slipping inside the souvenir shop with Sungchan following right after you. You lifted your sunglasses up on top of your head, skin prickling with gooseflesh from the draft of air conditioning wafting overhead. A soft-toned acoustic played in the background, accompanied by the cheery greeting of a staff member from behind the register. 

You and Sungchan lifted your hands in warm reply, then disappeared into the aisles to explore. 

Your fingers grazed along the racks of clothes branded with the beach town's name and minimalist artwork; your eyes roamed over the ships displayed in bottles on the walls, the not-for-sale surfboard hung for decor. Like many souvenir shops, there were several turning displays that boasted rows upon rows of themed keychains with specific names engraved into them. 

“I will never find my name amongst these,” Sungchan mused quietly from beside you as the two of you rifled through the surfboards and seashells and sharks. “And yet, I look for the S names all the time.”

“Valid,” you nodded. “Sometimes I can't find my name either, but it's the hope that gets you.”

“And fails you,” he pointed out.

“Touché.” 

Near the keychain displays stood a tower of hats and head accessories galore. There were crocheted bonnets, straw hats, ball caps, and even headbands. Your expression glittered as you plucked up a headband with twin sunflowers on the top like a pair of antennas. 

After hanging your shades on your shirt color, you donned the headpiece, twirling around to show Sungchan. “Thoughts?” You asked, failing to sweep your grin away. 

Sungchan beamed back at you. “Oh, you're too cute.”

You ignored the heat creeping up the back of your neck to reach for another headband—this time, one topped with red crab claws. Sungchan graciously bowed his head for you to crown him with the piece. 

“Fabulous,” you declared with your hands on your hips. 

He peered into the small mirror to the side of the hat rack. “You think?”

“Of course.” So much so, that you pulled out your phone to snap a picture. You tilted your head toward his to fit both of your faces and headbands in the frame. 

Sungchan peered over your shoulder to take a glimpse at the photos. His tongue was jammed into his cheek, and you could feel his breath along the shell of your ear. “Send me those?”

“I'd need your number first.”

He grinned boyishly, roughing a hand through his hair before taking your phone from you. “You don't even have to ask.”

As he saved his contact information into your phone, you attempted to calm the giddy butterflies in your stomach by peering back into the mirror at the headband on your head. You squished the plush sunflower heads with your fingers, humming thoughtfully. “I low-key wanna buy this.”

He glanced up from your phone before handing it back to you. “If you buy that one, I'll buy this one,” he replied, pointing up at the crab claws on his head. 

“You're such an enabler,” you jested. A beat passed. “Okay, but only if you get it with me.”

“That is what I said,” he chuckled, eyebrows arched. 

The remainder of the time you and Sungchan spent in the shop was mainly to figure out what you would purchase for Minjeong and what Sungchan would buy for his mom. (Mainly, implying that there was still room for shenanigans.) It took a little more than half an hour, but you both emerged from the souvenir shop with a gift bag each, containing your headbands and the baubles bought. 

The arcade was only about a ten minute's walk from your location, so you and Sungchan took your sweet time getting there. As the two of you walked—the backs of your hands grazing against one another, shoulders bumping—you nearly forgot that Sungchan was your brother's good friend. Jeno had never made it a point that you and his friends should never mix, and you knew he could care less about your love life, but this was different. (Was it?) It felt like something that shouldn't happen, and yet, why were you starting to want it so badly?

The outside of the arcade was a cream colored building, much like the others in town, but with large posters on the outside beckoning guests to come in and try their hand. Your brothers texted you to let you know they were in a game of laser tag right now, so that gave you and Sungchan a little more time to yourselves within the arcade. 

“I have an idea!” Sungchan grabbed your free hand and hauled you off toward something in the distance. 

The feeling of your fingers slotting with his had more than just your steps skipping. “Hey, man—you and your long legs need to chill!” You hollered at him through a laugh. 

He sent you a look over his shoulder before stopping at one corner of the arcade. With jazz hands, he presented his marvelous idea. “Ta-da!”

Before you was an all-time classic: Dance Dance Revolution. 

Your eyes widened just as your smile did. “It's like you read my mind,” you marveled. 

The machine was just like the movies with a multicolored screen of bright blues and purples, a platform with two sets of arrows in the floor, and two arched rails at the back for each player to hold onto as they danced the night away. 

Sungchan marched up onto the platform and fished a wadded up paper bill out from his wallet. “Have you played before?”

When the machine devoured his money, the screen leapt to life and blasted its opening music to announce that somebody was willing to step up to the challenge. 

You set your gift bag down at the foot of the platform and climbed up to join him. “I've only seen it done before, but I've always wanted to try it.”

You and he locked eyes, and you were sure the twinkle in his was a reflection of just how excited you were. 

“Well, today is your lucky day, party girl,” he chirped. “Let's see what you've got.”

It didn't take long for you to figure out that “what you've got” was a lot less than whatever Sungchan had. 

You grappled onto the railing behind you tightly as you stomped your feet against the coordinating arrows that flashed on-screen. How long had it been since that fateful first round? Ten minutes? Two days? It was all mashing together. 

“This is unfair; you have longer limbs,” you groaned after missing a few arrows in a row. Why were you so out of breath?

A bead of sweat dribbled down the side of Sungchan's head. It was almost comical how serious you were both taking this game. “I have practice,” he corrected cheekily. 

“Same difference!”

“A master never blames his tools.”

You huffed. “Bullshit.”

At this point, your losses were becoming ridiculous. Desperate times called for desperate measures. 

For a sequence you knew you were going to miss, you leaned over and pinched his side. Sungchan jolted—it did the trick, and he missed the steps. His head whipped over to you, an impish gleam in his irises. 

“Oh ho ho… you wanna play that game?”

You placed your hand on your hip as the round ended. “If I'm gonna lose, might as well go out with a bang.”

His tongue swiped over his lip. “You're on.”

The next round commenced, and adrenaline spiked through you like a spear, more powerful than before. You knew to expect Sungchan's revenge, but you struck first. 

A poke at his side resulted in a tickle at your waist. You returned his parry with a blind poke at his stomach. 

Anticipating his response, you spotted his arm incoming out of your periphery and moved to step out of his reach. Instead of solid platform, however, your breath hitched at the feeling of half your sandal slipping off the edge. 

Sungchan's eyes went wide and his arm instead curled around your waist and hauled you to him. “Shit,” he muttered, “are you okay? Sorry, that was totally my fault.”

Your palms had landed on his chest, your heart rate slowing but not fast enough. All of the excitement in your veins was likely more so from the game itself, and not from almost falling off the platform… and perhaps, another part of it was you realizing just how close you and Sungchan were now. 

You nodded. “Yeah, I'm completely fine; don't even worry about it. And it wasn't your fault—I miscalculated my step and I started it anyway.”

He pressed his lips together. “Still.”

“Nice catch, by the way,” you said quietly. 

You saw his eyes leave your gaze, and this time, you followed in his movements. He ducked his head, almost shyly. “I guess so,” he chuckled. “I'm glad I caught you.”

If anything, your heartbeat was gaining speed again. The hand pressed into your waist was a little more addicting than you would have liked, and his mouth was closer than you thought it had been. 

In the neon glow of the Dance Dance Revolution screen, you and Sungchan leaned toward one another with one aim, and one aim only. 

“Hey guys!” 

You leapt off the dance platform at the same time that Sungchan zipped to his side, gripping the railing with an expression akin to a deer caught in headlights. 

You pressed a hand against your palpitating heart and turned to find all three of your brothers bounding over to where you and Sungchan were. 

“Oh my god,” Anton gasped, “is that DDR?”

It seemed that Anton and Sohee were more focused on the game than yours and Sungchan's compromising position. But Jeno… you noted the suspicious narrowing of his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest…

You swore you and Sungchan swallowed at the same time. 

“Did we interrupt something?” Jeno drawled. 

“Nope!” 

You and Sungchan looked at each other at your simultaneous answer. Great. That definitely wasn't even more conspicuous or anything. 

Jeno pressed his lips together. “Uh-huh,” he said, unconvinced. “Well, Mom and Dad texted and asked for us to meet them at the house, so we've gotta go.” He lifted the screen of his phone up for you to see. Dear god, you hadn't even realized they'd texted the group chat.

You cleared your throat. “Right.” 

You picked up your gift bag, and your younger brothers immediately flanked you on either side to gush about the game of laser tag they had just partaken in. Though you nodded and engaged in their conversation, your mind was elsewhere. 

Plus, it was hard not to be hyper aware of the fact that Sungchan was now alone to face Jeno somewhere behind you. You were not looking forward to the car ride back.

There were always some, unspoken fine lines that should not be crossed—at least, purposefully. In retrospect, you knew Jeno didn't care about who you chose to spend your time with, as long as they treated you right. In the same vein, you didn't care much about what he thought when it came to your own decisions, and yet, you found yourself caring a little more because this was one of his friends. Not yours. 

But feelings were feelings… and you were slowly coming to terms with yours. 

It was like déjà vu when you crept down the stairs in the dead of night for the second time this vacation. You simply could not bear staring at that wooden ceiling any longer with your mind reeling from this afternoon's events. 

The living room was yet again a cacophony of light snoring, and you crossed the room toward the back door once more. 

You paused again, the sight of Sungchan's back a familiar one. Instead of sitting on the porch steps, though, he leaned against the railing, gazing out at the dark waves. It was yet another calm night out on the embankment, but the moon tonight was hidden away behind a few wisps of cirrus clouds. 

He glanced over his shoulder at you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you greeted softly, gently closing the door behind you so you could join him at the railing. It was funny how you both were on the same wavelength. Fate had a funny way of encouraging you.

You and he hadn't properly spoken since the arcade, and Jeno hadn't said a word about it to you either. Dinner had gone on normally enough, so you were unsure of where this all stood. 

“I wanted,” Sungchan began, “to talk to you about something.”

You glanced over at him and found his eyes already on you. “Sure, of course.”

He straightened, gesturing to the sandy beach beyond. “Walk with me?”

You nodded and followed him down the porch steps. Your feet met the cool grains of sand, and a sense of calm seeped into your bones from the bottom up. 

A hand outstretched in your vision, uncertain. You clasped your hand in his palm, and the pair of you began to walk. You couldn't recall whether you began to adore the feeling of your hand wrapped up in his earlier or just now. 

“So…” you trailed off. 

“So,” he picked up. “About earlier today. I wanted to, uhm, make sure we were on the same page about something.” 

He stopped you both when you were a good distance from the house, where the waves slipped along the sand louder than the snores. 

“I had a really fun time with you today,” he said. 

You nodded your head in earnest. “I had a great time with you, too.”

He smiled then, hand letting go of yours to drag over his face. “I'm—I’m happy to hear that,” he replied, and you were sure he was trying to hide his growing giddiness. 

You reached over and gently pried his hands away from his face. “Did Jeno talk to you about today? Did he say anything?” Before he could reply, you added, “Because I know he means well, but who I choose to spend my time with is my decision. If he can't handle us together, then he'll have to learn to suck it up.”

“He did say something to me about it,” Sungchan admitted, “but it was just to make sure I wasn't playing around.” With his hands locked in yours, he gave your palms a reassuring squeeze. “And Yn, I'd like to take you out sometime—properly. No playing around.”

No more toeing the line in the sand. 

Your heart rattled violently in your chest. “I'd really like that.”

His expression melted into something tender, like the dark swirls of molten chocolate in the scoop of tiramisu ice cream. His thumb grazed over the back of your hand. “Okay,” he murmured, barely audible over the soft laps of the waves, “good.”

He considered you for a moment longer, teeth digging into his bottom lip. “I also—I did intend on kissing you earlier today, and I probably should have prefaced it, but—mmmh!”

You looped your arms around his neck and pulled his mouth over to yours. He sank into your hold with a content hum, his hands slipping around your waist to tug you closer to him. You'd never really thought about what kissing Jung Sungchan would be like, but you knew that your imagination couldn't have been better than this. 

When you broke apart with your foreheads pressed against each other and sharing breathing air, you let out a small laugh. The sound coaxed a warm chuckle out of your counterpart. 

“Sorry,” you breathed against his lips, “I probably should have asked first.”

He smiled against you. “You can apologize by kissing me again.”

He most certainly didn't have to tell you twice.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! (idek if that was good, im off my Game and off my Rocker dkfnrj)

m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @meosjinn @fluorescentloves @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @kflixnet

[sporesmoldsfungus]

Safety Net | Egon Spengler x Reader

Hi Everyone! This is my first time writing for Egon and I would be lying If I said I did not thoroughly enjoy myself. Im still figuring out how to use Tumblr, so any tips would be well appreciated. Hope you enjoy :)

Word count: 3.1K

Side note: look how cute our man is in this gif, I cannot deal!!!

******

You grimace as you put your sleeve over your mouth, the smoke from the trap causing you to cough in reaction. 

“I Don’t think I will ever get used to that smell” You murmur to Ray as you pass him the trap. You were both currently out of town on a job for an old opera house. The job required you to stay at a hotel last night so you could catch the ghost in question early that morning. The ghost busters usually didn’t accept jobs from out of town, but when the owner of the opera house mentioned a large check, Peter could not say no. Of course, he had no intention of doing the job himself, which was why you and Ray were in the current situation. 

“Egon said it has something to do with the negative energy the ghost emit when captured” Ray explained, he also grimaced as he took the trap from you. He brought the trap over to Ecto-1 and threw it in the back before closing the door. “I cannot wait to get back and sleep in my own bed” He sighed. 

“Yeah, me too. Those hotel beds were horrible” you agreed as you made your way towards the driver’s side of the car. Ray had drove you both to the location, you thought you would return the favour by driving home. “I’ll make sure the invoice for those rooms go to Venkman, he’s the reason we had to do this job in the first place” You joke.

“Always the same, even in college he always got the best side of the deal” Ray agreed as he got into his side of the car, immediately putting the heaters on after he sat down.”

“Oh please don’t remind me of Peter’s Sorority years, I’ve had enough pain today to last me at least a week” You grumble as you gently rubbed your neck. The ghost you had been hired to capture had a little bit of a nasty streak. Just as you were about to capture it, it had thrown you back into a wall, your neck and shoulder hadn’t felt right since. 

Ray chuckled before asking in a concerned tone. “Are you alright to drive? I don’t mind switching”.

“I’ll be okay, an ice pack at home should do the trick” You smiled before turning the car on and starting your journey home. Ray’s selflessness was one of your favourite things about the scientist. No matter what the situation, Ray always offered to help. 

******

You firstly met Ray, Egon and Peter around eight years ago at Columbia University. As you walked through the door to your first lecture on parapsychology, you had noticed there was only one seat left available to sit in. Next to the free seat, sat the dorkiest man you had ever set eyes on. He had large round glasses that were definitely a decade out of fashion, but you couldn’t picture him wearing any other style. His slightly curly hair was neatly kept, and you couldn’t help but wonder what routine he used to tame it. The more you stared, the more you admired how beautiful this man was. From the way he had dressed himself in a suit just for a lecture, to the way his forehead was slightly creased due to the front on his face as he read over a book. 

You slowly made your way over to the empty seat, hesitating before sitting down. “Is this seat taken?” you asked softly, a small blush covered your cheeks and nose.

The man’s head rose to look up at you, his frown softening as he looked at you. It felt like he had been staring at you for an hour before he eventually cleared his throat. “uh, no this seat is free” he nodded before awkwardly going back to his book. 

You gave a small smile and sat down on the stool. As you brought your textbooks from your bag, you caught a glimpse of what the man next to you was reading. “you’re a fan of Joseph Rhine?”.

“Uhh, just a little bit of light reading” he replied hesitantly, as if he didn’t realise you were talking to him at first. 

You gave a small nod. “I’m more a fan of Arthur Doyle, myself”

“The sherlock Holmes author?” he asked sceptically.

You gave an enthusiastic nod “Yes, many people don’t know that he actually does research in telepathy and seances too”.  Just like every time you talked about anything on the lines of parapsychology, you could feel yourself becoming excited. Your family did everything in attempt to get you to choose a more ‘normal’ degree like English or Biology, but nothing could have possibly changed your mind. 

“interesting” he mumbled; his face looked as if it was deep in thought for a moment before he opened up a notebook, and scribbled down the author’s name. 

“My name is Y/N, by the way” you stuck your hand towards the man, a gentle smile on your lips. You were trying your best to follow your mother’s advice she had given you on the phone this morning. ‘Any day, is a successful day, if you meet a new friend’. 

The man returned a very small smile before gently taking your hand. “Egon Spengler”

“Lovely to meet you Egon”.

What you were unaware of that day, was why Egon had been sitting alone, when in fact his two best friends were sat directly behind him. Peter and Ray were well aware of Egon’s most important rule. ‘I forbid anybody to sit next to me in lectures, talking is a distraction of learning’.  Almost every day he had turned people down who were looking for a spare seat, earning his friends to cringe away in embarrassment each time. However, when he had looked at you, something changed. He realised that he, for some reason, would not mind being distracted by you. Of course, he later went home and tried to conduct a full study on why he felt this way, but it took him four years before he later came up with a reasonable conclusion. 

Later that day, you were introduced to Ray and Peter, through the expense of Egon being the centre of one of Peter’s jokes. After that day on, the four of you had been close friends ever since. 

******

After complaining about New York traffic for at least thirty minutes, you finally drove into the firehouse, sighing with content as you parked the car. “Home, sweet, home”. 

As you got out of the car, a floating green blob flew towards you, it’s stick like arms wrapping around your neck. 

“Awhh, I missed you too slimer” You chuckled as you hugged the ghost back. 

“How come he never slimes you; I swear he has full control of that stuff” Peter grumbled as he walked out his office and headed towards you. 

“Oh Peter, are you jealous that slimer loves me more? I’m sure he’d love to come and give you a cuddle too” You joked as you let go of the ghost, a mischievous smirk on your face. 

“Don’t you dare” He warned, his eyes narrowing as he spoke slowly. 

“Fine, you win this time. However, me and Ray have decided you are getting invoiced for those hotel rooms, after all, it was your call to take”. 

Peter struggled to find a reply for a moment before sighing in defeat. “Whatever, just give the papers to Janine, I’m too tired to debate this one out”. 

“What’s the matter? You’re not sick are you” You asked genuinely. If needed, Peter normally had the social skills to sell ice to someone who lived in the North pole. 

“No, I’m not sick. But considering I’m paying for the hotel rooms, I need to call in a favour from you too” He replied, leaning against the side of Ecto-1 as he spoke. 

You stopped unloading the equipment from the back to give him your full attention. “I’m not taking the blame again for you not closing the containment unit correctly”

“You forgot to close the containment unit again!” Ray rushed from behind the car, his face frantic as he looked between you and Peter. 

“No! The containment unit is fine! Gosh, what do you people take me for?” Peter replied quickly, finishing the sentence with a scoff.  “I’m calling in a favour because Spengz hasn’t left the lab since you went on that call”. He finally explained. 

Your heart sunk a little as Peter spoke. It was not unusually for Egon to spend hours at a time in the lab, but you and Ray had been gone for over twenty-four hours. Egon tended to go through stages where he become so fixated on science, his personal health was forgotten to him. He had the potential to go days without eating or sleeping, which often made him ill and even more stressed out for a few days. The boys did their best to encourage Egon to stop working, but it just resulting in them being thrown out of the lab. The boys sometimes called you their “secret weapon” which they would release when things got bad. 

You gave a sad sigh and nodded in understanding to Peter. “I’ll try my best” you muttered as you took a bag from ecto-1’s side door. You and Ray had picked up some snacks on the way home from your call that you were going to attempt to use. 

You headed downstairs and gently tapped on the lab door before entering. “Guess who’s back” you said cheerily, trying your best to act like you were unaware of Egon’s shenanigans. When you entered the lab, he was sat at his desk, microscope at hand. 

“Hey Sweetheart” he said softly, although you could hear the tired undertone in his voice. “How did the call go?”.

“It was just a class three, nothing we could not deal with. Although, it did get a little aggressive at the end” You explained as you came up and hugged him from behind. 

He gave a soft smile and rested one hand on your arms that were wrapped around him, his other hand continued to write down his notes from the microscope. “You must be tired from the drive home, why don’t you go and get some rest” He suggested. 

“Well, I was thinking perhaps me and you could get something to eat first?” you tried at your first attempt of dragging him from the lab. “We could order from your favourite Thai place.” You bribed. 

“That sounds great, but I really need to finish my work on this new slime sample.” Egon replied with a sigh as he continued to work with his microscope. “I really think I’m onto something with this sample, the electrochemical bond is unlike any other we’ve encountered”. 

“Oh, okay” you gave a small nod, thinking how this was going to be harder than you thought. “Well, I bought some snack on the way home from the call, we could share them in the meantime?” You suggested as you walked over to grab the bag you had put on the counter. 

“I would, but I really need to test the polarity of this sample” He abstained.

“Egon, you taking a five-minute break to eat sugary treats with me will not cause Gozer to raise from the dead.”

This time he finally looked up at you, a million thoughts seemed to be going through his head before he finally said. “Okay, but only a few minutes” He agreed, moving over to the other counter to sit next to you. 

‘Result!’ you thought. 

You gave him a bright smile and laid out the packets of food in front of you both. 

“So, did Peter behave himself whilst I was away?” You joked as you opened as packet of crisps. 

Egon hummed. “Peter behaved like Peter, if that answers your question.”  He also opened a box of twinkies as he spoke.  “I suppose it does” You agreed. “I also came up with a new theory” You announced. 

“And what would that be?” 

“Peter actually loves having slimer around. In fact, I think slimer is Peter’s favourite supernatural entity.”

Egon gave a low chuckle and you mentally ticked off another achievement box.

“Are you sure you’re not lacking sleep? That’s the most impossible theory you have conducted” Egon asked with a small smile. 

“Oh, I’m exhausted, those hotel beds should be burnt, they were horrible!” You exclaimed. You moved your neck side to side in order to relieve some of the tension. As you did so, your hair moved to the side, giving a plain sight to the side of your neck. 

Any humour that Egon had managed to gather instantly left his face at the sight of your neck. Right under your hairline, a purply black bruise began to form.

 Your neck and shoulders had been aching ever since the ghost had thrown you back into the wall. You had gotten your fair number of beatings when being on calls, but you always managed to just walk them off. You thought this was just like other times, but you were unaware of how much your neck was bruising. 

Egon slowly reached up and brushed the hair from the side of your neck, exposing more of the skin. You couldn’t help but wince a little from the pain. 

“What did this to you?” He whispered; his voice barely auditable.

You hesitated a little. “The ghost I said that got a little aggressive, he had a thing for throwing people too” You replied with an award chuckle, trying your best to lighten the mood. 

Egon clenched his jaw. “You need to ice this” he mumbled before going over to the lab freezer and pulling out an ice pack. Before he placed the ice pack on your neck, he very gently tied your hair back with the hair tie you conveniently had on your wrist. You tried your best not to wince which caused him to murmur a small “sorry”.

“I’m okay. Honestly, it doesn’t hurt that much” You reassured, taking his place of holding the icepack to the bruise. 

He sat back down next to you and gently took your free hand. “Y/N, you should really go and rest.” He told you softly, but with an authoritative undertone. “An injury like this is only going to heal with rest.”

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, really looked at him. The man before you looked exhausted. His eyes were dark but were still looking at you with pure love, His skin was slightly pale and his face had a slightly sad aura. Despite your friends attempts, nobody could persuade Egon to look after himself in the last twenty-four hours, but here he was, fully invested in your health and safety. Oh, the irony. 

“Are you in any pain?” He asked sadly, his eyes frowning a little as he noticed your eyes starting to glass over a little with tears. 

You slightly shook your head before leaning over and gently placing your lips to his. He seemed to relax at your touch, something that he had developed overtime. “I’ll make you a deal” You whispered as you pulled back to look at him, your face still quite close to his. 

He gently rubbed the back of your hand he was still holding with his thumb. He remained quiet, waiting for you to continue. 

“I will take a nap and rest my neck, but only if you come and keep me company” You bargained sweetly. 

Egon let out a sigh, he looked over his should at the slime sample before looking back to you. “Alright” He agreed. “But you’re keeping the icepack on” He added as he stood up, his hand remaining around yours as he led you upstairs and up to the bedrooms. You and Janine had your own bedroom with two double beds. Meanings that Janine hardly stayed at the firehouse, you and Egon had partly claimed the room for yourselves. 

“Now lovebirds, I don’t want to hear any noises coming from that room” Peter joked loudly as you and Egon got to the top floor. 

“Oh slimer! Peter said he wants a cuddle!” You yelled loudly with a huge smirk. The distant yelling of peter could be heard as Egon closed the bedroom door.

“I love that little ghost” You beamed as you got a set of pyjamas for you and Egon from the wardrobe. 

You both began to change into your pyjamas, Egon having to help you pull your t-shirt over your head due to the pain of your neck. As you got into bed, you gently took off Egon’s glasses and set them on the nightstand on your side of the bed, just in case he got any ideas about going back to the lab. You were a light sleeper and would wake up if he decided to slip out through the night. 

Egon wrapped his arms around you as you cuddled up to him, doing his best to avoid your neck at all costs. Just as you were about to drop off to sleep, he mumbled “I’m sorry”. You gave a small frown and opened your eyes again. “You have nothing to be sorry for” you said almost instantly. You repositioned yourself so you were resting on his chest but looking up at him. 

“I didn’t realise I was worrying people again” he said softly, looking down at you as he spoke. It had finally sunk in why you and his friends had been asking him to eat and rest a lot recently.

Your heart almost broke when you realised what he meant. “Oh Egon” You whispered sadly. You reached up and gently kissed his lips, his hand coming up to your cheek as you melted into each other’s grasp. “We all care about you so much” you told him sincerely. 

He gave a small nod before softly kissing you again. “Get some rest” he mumbled as he pulled away.  He gave the top of your head a small kiss as you repositioned yourself on his chest. 

Egon acknowledging why people were worried was the winning streak in your eyes. He was not somebody who needed to be told something many times, as soon as he acknowledged an issue, he would do his best to change things. 

“Goodnight, my love” “Goodnight, Sweetheart”

[alrightbuckaroo]

Happy Wednesday, everyone! With chapter one of the Time Loop AU up, it only seems fair to share something from a future chapter, right?

“God forbid my time loop take place during the summer,” Carlos mutters to himself as he inspects his front right tire.

About eight minutes into his drive, his car suddenly felt very lopsided. It might have been a very minute change, but when it comes to his car, he’s like Paul. He notices everything.

He suppresses a shiver as another brisk breeze passes through, enfolding him in a wicked winter chill. He pulls his beanie even further down and blows into his gloved hands, trying to create a comfort of warmth.

He pulls out his phone, minding the cracks and crevices that spread across the screen. As usual, he dropped it that morning, but this time he didn’t give himself time to mourn it.

He pulls up his flashlight and begins a more thorough inspection of the tread on his tire.

After doing that, he checks his front left tire, his back left tire and eventually comes to the conclusion that it must be the back right tire making his life more difficult than it already is.

His back right tire is visibly deflated, but nowhere near as deflated as he is when he opens his trunk and sees that his spare tire is nowhere to be found. He instantly recalls that he drove over a nail the last time he used it, and he’s waiting for a new one to come in.

He’s supposed to pick up a new one come Monday of next week; Monday’s hard to look forward to when you’re living Friday on repeat.

Thanks to:

@honeybee-taskforce, @thisbuildinghasfeelings, @nancygillianmvp, @vineofroses, @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad

@paperstorm, @whatsintheboxmh, @strandnreyes, @sznofthesticks, @tommy-kinard-buckley

@americansrequiems and @lemonlyman-dotcom for the tags!

No pressure tagging:

@reyesstrand, @herefortarlos, @carlos-in-glasses, @carlos-tk, @lightningboltreader

@never-blooms, @safeaswrites, @theghostofashton, @orchidscript, @three-drink-amy

@thebumblecee, @bonheur-cafe, @basilsunrise, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @heartstringsduet

@welcometololaland, @rmd-writes, @your-catfish-friend, @reasonandfaithinharmony, @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@goldenskykaysani, @sanjuwrites, @literateowl, @louis-ii-reyes-strand, @ladytessa74

@actual-sleeping-beauty and here's an open tag :)

[writers-ex]

Istg i am so tense today 💀

So yesterday was Friday. Its Saturday morning here rn, btw. And some of my friends werent coming to college due to personal reasons. Now because everyone is usually busy in their work, no one has time to send the notes from the classes, so they told everyone to take the day off. Our Fridays are shorter days btw.

Being the head girl of the college, i tried to stop them cuz it might get us in trouble. But they didnt listen, so everyone was taking the day off. So i also thought that there is no reason to go to the college cuz no ones coming. So no one came, as planned.

EXCEPT ONE GIRL. She advertised the plan of not coming to college to everyone on our insta group, and then she just backed out. We thought that it was ok as long as she didnt tell anyone.

BUT THEN WHAT HAPPENED? We get a message from the teachers, saying that the parents have to tell the reason why everyone except that girl came. We panicked a bit but we all had our excuses. We decided not to message the teacher and just tell our excuses on Monday.

And thats where it all came crashing down. We just got a message, like 5 mins before the time i am writing this, that our whole class except that girl will be heavily penalized because we 'lied to our parents about the day being off' and 'breaking the college discipline code'. Btw we never lied to our parents.

Anyways, we found out that THAT GIRL SNITCHED ON US, SENT OUR CHAT'S SCREENSHOTS TO THE PRINCIPAL, AND GOT OUT OF THE PLAN LIKE SHE WAS NEVER INVOLVED. Mind you, if her parenyts had agreed to let her take the day off, she would never have come to school. And she was so unapologetic too. Like i get that we werent all innocent, but snitching and throwing everyone under the bus is so wrong 😭😭😭

I never liked that girl tbh. She fails her classes, she is not good at any extra curriculars, she is a wannabe teachers pet. And she visits the washroom 10 times a day idk why. Thats suspicious, if you ask me.

Im sorry for this long story, but i just wanted to vent out. Please pray for me and my class 😓

-🦔

this girl sounds horrible so i hope your weekend is better, i am glaring at her from my laptop and patting your back as well >:( rude little troll- please keep me posted bc this sounds…i want to know you are ok plz

side rant that happened with a girl in my class that turned out to be a cousin of mine…she so fricking ditzy giggling and making the teacher answer the most randomest questions in class while they give us lecture like bish wait or write it down BUT NO she keeps going and asking about the test and only paying attention to a lecture if its going to be on a test and not the actual INFORMATION WE NEED TO DO THE JOB LIKE BISH LIFE ISN"T ABT A GRADE????? i care abt my grade and study but like i want to perform the actual job correctly so even if the textbook is old i want to understand the idea and actually perform the task up to the standards NOT WEAR MY HEADPHONES AND LEAVE RANDOMLY FOR ABT AN HOUR OF CLASS ONLY TO BUG THE TEACHER ABT DOING THE LECTURE AGAIN BC YOU "LEFT SOMETHING IN UR CAR" why do you have to leave TEN TIMES A DAY TO UR CAR?????????????????? and then she hugs and hangs out with me like nothing happens and smells dirty like idk ur home life but shower or borrow my perfume please TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT dont even get me started on her cheating and she has the nerve to complain abt her grades being one point less when she cheats??????????? i study and earn my grade honestly PISS OFF but i usually just smile and walk away before i punch the wall <3 bro this wednesday i was cleaning instruments during our BUSIET CLINIC EVER so i had to clean everything for eight hours straight with no help and one classmate lost a tiny screw in the sink when i left to grab some water BC I HAVEN"T DRANK WATER IN LIKE FIVE HOURS?????? so im tired, thirsty, and surviving off some milk i drank in the morning bc we don't get breaks for food either and THIS GIRL HAS THE NERVE TO LAUGH AND HUG ME SAYING THAT SHE WANTS ME TO CLEAN HER ROOM BC SHE NEEDS TO GET SMT IN HER CAR WHILE IM PANCIKING ABT LOOSING THIS SCREW THATS EXPENSIVE AND INSTRUMENTS ARE PILING (and god im so mad rn) and its all a blur after that bc i think i cried or blacked out and kept cleaning ignoring her :') i hate my life bc she thinks we're buddies and i want to slap her

whew rant over….so sorry to sound so violent this girl gets me mad and did also b4 we left class yesterday (it was friday for me) GAH

[watchmegetobsessed]

DESIRE III.

A/N: you guuuys im so sorry it took me so long to finish this, but it's been one hell of a week! i hope it only got you way more excited though haha! thank you for reading this story and if you want to read some more of them, send me a prompt for blurbs! i might write a few extras for the story, because i loved it so much!🥰

PAIRING: older!dad’s-bestfriend!Harry x reader

WORD COUNT: 10.7k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

It started off as a usual Monday.

For a change, Harry was the one to spend the night at your place, so when your alarm goes off and you try to find the phone on your night stand a heavy, tattooed arm is curling around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. When your fingers finally hit the right button you groan and fall back, only half awake, though you know you can’t sleep back.

Harry nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his hot breath tickling your exposed skin and it makes you giggle.

“God, I don’t want to get up,” he growls, squeezing you gently before he rolls to his back. His naked chest is screaming to be touched, the cross pendant lying on his right peck. Pushing yourself up you get halfway on top of him, kissing him wherever you can reach. He hums pleased, arms coming to curl around you before he tugs on you so he can kiss your lips.

“Good morning Mr. Styles,” you smirk against his lips teasingly.

“Fuck, Y/N. You know how much it turns me on when you call me that.”

“I know,” you giggle playfully. “Though we don’t have time for that now, I’m sorry. I have a meeting at nine so I should start getting ready.”

“How about just a quick shower together?” he suggests and you can’t say no to that. Especially because you know that at least one of you will leave the bathroom satisfied.

And oh boy, you were right about that. Harry is a pro at making things quick but he can still rock your world. Though you didn’t think it would fit into the time, he insists that a quickie won’t make you late. Ten minutes. He makes you scream his name in just ten minutes and when he walks out of the bathroom to make a quick breakfast for the two of you while you blowdry your hair, you need to take a moment to calm your racing heart. This man is going to be the death of you one day.

You both are out the door by eight thirty, parting ways with a kiss at the garage of your building that ends up being a bit too long, since you won’t be meeting tonight. Harry has a late meeting with some partners overseas so he’ll get home earliest at midnight, so you decided you are spending tonight separated.

“I love you, have a great day,” he smiles, kissing your forehead.

“Love you too. Charm those investors,” you chuckle and turning around you head to your car, but Harry slaps your butt as part of his goodbye, making you jump a little. Peeking over your shoulder you see his boyish smirk and it makes you weak in the knees.

The first half of the day goes by fast, you’re quite busy in the office. You have a late lunch with Isha and get back to work, planning where you’ll go grocery shopping on your way home.

Your dad’s call reaches you between two meetings.

“Hey dad, I don’t have much time, what’s up?” you ask as you rush back to your office to change your notes and head to your next one.

“Come see me after work,” he simply answers, no hi, no how are you and his tone is so harsh, it could cut through the line. You stop in your tracks, an eerie feeling running down your spine.

“Everything alright?”

“We’ll see.” And with that, the call ends.

You move the phone from your ear with a shaking hand, something inside you is screaming that you’re in some big trouble and when it comes to your dad, only one thing can put you in that position.

Dialing Harry’s number you listen to it ring and ring until it goes to voicemail.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, seeing that you need to leave or you’ll be late. You grab your stack of papers and run out of your office heading to the conference room two floors above you, attempting to call Harry one more time, but the same thing happens, so you shoot him a text.

Call me ASAP!!

Sitting with your colleagues in that conference room is like torture, you keep checking your phone for any sign of Harry, but nothing happens until about one hour later. His caller ID pops up on the screen and you excuse yourself right away, sneaking out of the room, ignoring the disapproving looks.

“Harry!” you breathe out answering the call.

“Your dad called you, right?”

Your stomach drops to the floor, because his question strengthens you in your theory that your dad somehow found out about you and Harry.

“Yeah. He called you too?”

“Just cleared my schedule to meet him with you.” His voice sounds so weak, so desperate, you just know he is already beating himself up for whatever is going to happen.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, panic taking over you instantly.

“Let’s meet beforehand, alright? We need to be prepared for the worst,” he suggests and it sounds like he is collected and calm, but you can tell he is freaking out just as much as you are.

“Okay,” you breathe out, trying to control your emotions, after all, you’re still at work.

“Y/N?” he murmurs your name softly.

“Yeah?”

“I love you, you know that, right?”

“I love you too, Harry,” you answer weakly before you’re forced to end the call.

Suffering through the rest of the day is painful and every minute feels like an hour. You keep checking your phone, but nothing comes, at least not from the people you are focused on right now. When the clock finally hits five you pack your stuff faster than ever, heading down. You’ve just stepped into the elevator when Harry texts you that he is down in the lobby. When you arrive downstairs there he is, sitting on one of the sofas near the front desk and he stands as soon as he sees you walk out of the elevator.

“Hi,” you breathe out, just the presence of him already doing so much good for your anxiety. He circles his arms around you, embracing you tightly, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Hey, baby. Come on, let’s talk somewhere,” he suggests, nodding towards the exit.

The two of you end up sitting in his car, a few moments of silence weighing down on you, neither of you really knowing what to say.

“So what are we supposed to do?” you ask. “I don’t even know how he found out about this…”

“It doesn’t matter. We just know that he found out from someone else and not us,” he groans shaking his head. “What do we tell him?”

“The truth,” you answer confidently. You wouldn’t want to keep on lying, that would just make it worse. “Exactly what happened.”

“He’ll take our head,” he sighs painfully. He looks so anxious, so scared, you’ve never seen him this worried.

“You’re not thinking about ending it, right?” you ask quietly, your voice barely more than just a whisper. His eyes find you and his look softens as he reaches out and cups your face in his hand.

“Didn’t even occur to me. I just… I wish it could be a bit different. Less complicated.”

“Promise me whatever dad says, you won’t give up on us.” He stares back at you and you wish you could read his mind, hear the thoughts that run through his head, because you can’t read anything from his expression.

“Promise you,” he then finally tells you, a wave of relief washing over you at his words. You lean in and kiss him, almost like there’s no tomorrow, but he returns it just as eagerly, his hands clasping your jaw to keep you close over the shifting gear.

Never in your life have you thought that one day you’d be scared to go over to your parents’ house, the place where you grew up. The way there is short, but you go through a whole emotional rollercoaster. One moment you want to throw up at the thought of telling your dad the truth, then confidence takes over you and you realize that you’re an adult, a grown-up who can freely decide who she wants to date and your dad doesn’t have a saying in it. Besides, doesn’t he want to see you happy? Doesn’t he want the best for you? Because Harry truly is all of that, why would he want to take that away from you?

You’re a mess by the time you pull up at your parents’ driveway after Harry, since you went with separate cars, you’re a full blown mess. Your palms are sweating, your thoughts are racing and the urge to just start the car again and drive away is way too tempting. But you don’t do that. Instead, you get out and walk up to Harry who is waiting for you at the front porch for you. His hand finds yours just for a moment, he squeezes it before letting go of it, the two of you walking up to the front door shoulder to shoulder.

Since you weren’t planning on visiting this morning, you didn’t bring your own keys, you have to ring the bell. It echoes painfully on the other side of the door and you take one last deep breath before the storm arrives.

Bailey, your sister opens the door and judging from the look on her face, it’s not gonna be much fun. She looks exactly like that one time when you didn’t come home after a party and also didn’t call your parents to let them know where you were. You were only seventeen, Bailey just turned twelve back then, she let you in since you lost your keys and her face told it all, what you could expect from your parents.

Now she looks exactly the same, just eight years apart and for a moment you think about running away again. But then your mature side steps forward and takes the lead.

“He is in his office,” Bailey simply tells you, holding the door open.

“Thanks, B,” you smile at her, walking in with Harry right behind you. You navigate your way down the hallway and through the living room until you arrive to the double doors of the office.

“Alright, here goes nothing,” you mumble under your breath before knocking on the door.

Footsteps are heard from the other side until the doors fly open and there is your dad, standing so tall and… rigid and most importantly with an expression that makes your whole inside shake. He is mad. Big time.

His eyes scan over you first, then move to Harry and for a split second you think he is about to launch at him or at least punch him in the face, but he does nothing like that. Instead, he turns around leaving the doors open, a signal to follow him as he walks back to his desk and sits down. It feels like you’d been called into the principal’s office because you did something that’s gonna earn you detention.

You’re an adult, no one can make you feel bad for doing what makes you happy! You scream at yourself.

Your dad still hasn’t said a word as he sits down and reaches for an envelope. He pulls something out of it and then snaps it to the desk. Stepping closer your stomach drops again as you see the photos of you and Harry from last Saturday when you were having dinner with Sarah and Mitch. There’s no doubt who made them and you’d love to know how they ended up at your dad, but you have to push that aside for now.

“Do you have something to tell me?” your dad asks, his tone is so dry, it almost hurts.

“Listen, it’s—“ Harry starts, but you cut him off. You know he would try to sugarcoat it somehow, but you think it’s better to just rip the bandaid off.

“It is what it is. I’m dating Harry,” you simply say and hear Harry suck his breath in just as your words roll off of your tongue.

Your dad’s face turns into a deep red and you fear he is about to blow up right in front of you. He is staring back so hard and you know he is trying to make you break with just his look, but it’s not gonna happen. Not this time. A sudden rush of adrenaline sweeps through you and it’s giving you just enough strength to stand your ground against him. Since no one is saying a word and the silence is starting to feel painful, you decide to elaborate.

“I’m sorry you didn’t find out about it from us, we wanted to tell, but we’ve been trying to figure out how.”

“It was nothing against you—“ Harry starts, but he gets cut off once again, this time by your dad.

“You just don’t try to explain anything in my house!” he snaps so loud, it makes you jump. “I trusted you with my business, I let you into my family’s life and this is how you thank me all of that?! By seducing my daughter?!”

You wince at his words and expect Harry to argue with him, to defend himself and tell him that it’s not the case, he didn’t seduce you, but he doesn’t say a word. He just stands there, staring back at your father and listens to the nasty things thrown at him.

“Dad, that’s—“

“No! You’re gonna listen to me, because this is my house and I had to find out about my best friend seducing my own daughter behind my back, making a fool out of me!”

“He didn’t seduce me!” you snap back, but when his eyes flash at you, it almost kicks all the air out of your lungs. “Dad, let us tell you how it happened, you’ll—“

“I don’t want to hear the dirty details!” he growls back, his fist meeting with the top of the desk. “How dare you betray me like that!”

“No one betrayed you, dad!” you argue, feeling your own anger bubbling in your chest. “It happened, it’s not like we can decide who we fall in love with!”

“Love?!” he barks back. “What do you know about love?! Clearly nothing if you think you love him!”

“You don’t know about that! You don’t know anything about us!”

“Because you didn’t tell me!”

“Would you have reacted differently? What would have been different if I told you right away? Because I have a feeling that nothing! You would have been just this stubborn and ignorant if I did.”

“I could have talked you out of wasting your time!”

Tears are dwelling in your eyes, hearing your own father talk like this about the man you love, the man who is supposed to be his friend. Looking over to your left you see Harry standing like a complete statue, just silently letting himself get humiliated for something he shouldn’t be held responsible for. You want to scream at him to say something, to stand up against your dad, but you just can’t. Instead, you turn back to face your dad, taking a step closer to him.

“Why does it hurt you to see me happy? Isn’t it what you want for me? To be happy and in love?”

“Of course it is, but this is not that,” he shakes his head vigorously. “You think he’ll make you happy?!”

“He already does!” you snap back, offended by his words, while Harry is still standing there without a word next to you. Is he in shock? Why isn’t he saying a word?! “He makes me happy, so what does it matter how old he is or how we know each other?” You’re desperate to make him understand that Harry is not a villain here, he didn’t do anything wrong, but it seems like your dad is way too stubborn to even consider anything you’re saying. The tears start dwelling in your eyes and you know you’re just moments away from starting to sob.

Your dad’s gaze slowly moves over to Harry and just by the look on his face you know whatever he is about to say… there won’t be any mercy in it.

“You really think you are what my daughter needs? You think you can be what she needs?”

The way your dad’s voice quieted down, it just made his words cut even deeper and they weren’t even addressed to you. Looking at Harry, you’re silently begging for him to finally say something, but his pink lips that kissed you so desperately not so long ago are now pressed tightly together, no word leaving them.

Your dad stands up from the desk, takes the photos from it and stepping closer to Harry he simply throws them at his chest, the papers flying around in the room from the strength he put into the movement.

“Dad, stop it,” you tell him, but there’s no use, he doesn’t even acknowledge you as he steps even closer to Harry, puffing his chest to dominate the situation.

“You’re just stealing her youth away. What could a guy like you give her, huh? Money? She has that on her own. You think you love her? I highly doubt that, you’re just alone, aren’t you? I know you well, Styles,” he hisses, calling him by his family name probably the first time ever in your presence. “I know that you couldn’t keep a woman by your side all this time and now you want to ruin my daughter? You are a pathetic excuse of a man and I’m not gonna let you hurt my daughter!”

While he kept his tone down, he shouted the last part and it broke the dam inside you. Tears are flowing down your cheeks and you’re desperate to get away from him, as far as possible. How can he be so cruel? How can he talk like this to his friend even if he doesn’t agree with what Harry did? This is not your father, not the man you idolized growing up, who grew up loving with everything you are.

Getting between Harry and him, you push him back, forcing him to look at you, snapping out of the pure anger he just directed at Harry.

“The only person here hurting me is you! I’m not a little girl anymore! I’m sorry we didn’t tell you about it earlier, but there’s nothing you can do to tear us apart! I love him, he loves me and he is the one I want to be with! You’ve always tried to set me up with all these different guys you thought would be perfect for me, so then now why aren’t you accepting that I finally found the man I truly love? Why are you trying to ruin my happiness?”

“You’re trying to tell me that this is what you want? Him? You want to live with someone who disrespects his friend the way he did with me?”

“He didn’t disrespect you. You have no idea what happened, I was the one who initiated everything, he was trying to keep himself away from me because of you! But we are adults, you can’t tell us what we can and can’t do!”

Your dad glances over your shoulder, straight at Harry again before he speaks up.

“You should have kept yourself away from her, like you wanted at first,” he sneers and now you’re the one seeing red.

Pushing your dad back you wipe the salty tears off of your cheeks before you speak your truth.

“Don’t you dare talking to him like that! He did nothing wrong, but loved and cherished me! Just because you’re so ignorant and disapprove what we have, it doesn’t mean we’ll obey you and just forget about each other!”

Turning around you look at Harry, who is still staring back at your dad, his eyes are glossy and his jaw is clenched. Glancing down you see his hands are curled into fists, his knuckles turning white from how hard he is squeezing them.

“Right, Harry? Please, say something!” you plead him, desperate to get him to talk so you know he is still on your side.

He holds his eye-contact with your dad even longer and you’re almost about to start screaming when his lips finally part and his teared up eyes slowly move to you. That’s when you realize… you lost him.

“He is right,” he whispers choked up, your throat closing up at his words. “This was a mistake.”

“No. No, no, no! It wasn’t! Don’t let him get into your head!” you beg to him, hands coming to cup his face.

Clearly, your dad doesn’t like the action, because he tries to pull you back, but you violently shake his hand off of yourself.

“Don’t touch me!” you scream at him in a way you never thought you’d ever do. But you don’t dwell on it any longer, just simply turn back to Harry, cupping his face like you originally wanted. “Harry, you’re just shocked from the situation, you can’t be serious. Please, don’t let him get into your head!”

“Y/N, stop,” he pleads through trembling lips, his hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your hands away from his face.

“No, I won’t stop, you’re being nonsense right now!”

“He is right,” he raises his voice at you. “I can’t give you what you want, Y/N. I was… a fool to think that this was right.” He chokes up again, a tear rolling down his cheek that he wipes away quickly. Then his eyes start flickering between you and your dad before he speaks up again. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, before turning around and rushing out of the room so fast, that for a moment you don’t even process what’s happening.

When you finally snap out of the shock, you run after him, but your dad once again tries to stop you.

“Y/N, don’t you dare—“

“I don’t fucking care! Is this what you wanted? You wanted to ruin my life? To break me? Well congrats, you did it!” you scream at him before pushing his hand off of you and running after Harry without a second thought.

You get past your mom and Bailey as well, they both look so concerned and worried as you rush out of the house, but you don’t have time to deal with them. They probably heard most of the screaming and shouting that went down in the office, there’s a lot to talk about with everyone, not just your dad.

When you run outside Harry is already almost at his car, so you sprint to him, getting between him and the car so he can’t sit in and leave just yet.

“Harry, please don’t go! Please don’t leave me!” you beg him, full on crying, your cheeks are soaking wet from your tears.

“Y/N, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” he breathes out shakily. You hold onto his shirt, bunching the fabric in your fists, like he could disappear from your grasp any moment.

“Harry, you promised!” you sob, your mascara probably melting down your face, but you couldn’t care less. “You promised that no matter what happens here, we’ll stay together!”

You feel like a child throwing a tantrum, but you just can’t help yourself. It hurts, your chest feels like it’s about to blow up any moment and if Harry gets into this car, leaving you… you’re not sure you’ll survive.

“You said you love me and you promised you wouldn’t give up on us!” You’re choking the words out, not able to contain your sobs anymore and you see his face contort from the pain, he looks like he is moments away from falling apart completely.

“You’ll be better off without me, Y/N. I still love you, that’s why I’m doing this. You deserve someone better, someone who…”

“Don’t say who treats me right, because that’s you! You are everything to me!”

He winces at your words, like they cut through his skin and when his eyes find yours again, you sib at the ocean of pain you see in them. His chest is heaving just like yours, like he needs all his energy to stay stood right now and you take this moment to pull him down and press your lips against his hard, kissing him like your life depended on it. At first, he stays still, resists your try, but you don’t pull back, your hands move up to cup his face and you’re silently begging for him to finally move.

And then he kisses you back. His lips open and he kisses you back so eagerly, he devours you right then and there. But as fast as it came, the moment vanishes and he pulls back, pushing you away from him not too harshly and while you’re still recovering from the kiss, he quickly gets into the car and shuts the door open, the noise of it snapping you back into reality.

“No! Harry! Don’t leave!” you start smacking your hand against the window, but he doesn’t look your way, just ignites the car and as you’re screaming your lungs out, he drives away.

You stand on the driveway, completely numb, sobbing uncontrollably for God knows how long, staring after Harry’s car that’s long gone. In just a couple of minutes, you go through probably every stage of grief, but then you get stuck at anger. You could break something, anything that comes into your way for what just happened, but who should you blame for it?

Vivian, for taking the photos? Was she the one to send them to your father or did she forward them to Emmett and he was the heartless asshole to ruin your life like this? Or maybe you should be mad at Harry for breaking his promise to you? For not standing up against your father when you needed him the most?

No. You’re the angriest at your father, because he actually turned out to be the petty, ignorant shadow of himself you feared to meet upon coming clean to him.

Wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, you turn around, the sobbing mess you were just minutes ago is gone, disappointment and hurt took its place and you’ll let your father know just how badly he messed this one up.

Marching back into the house you face your sister first, but when she sees the state you’re in, she doesn’t even dare to talk to you, just watches you head back into your dad’s office and there he is, sitting at his desk, staring ahead of him as your mother is scolding him. She stops right away when she sees you walk in, they both look up at you with wide eyes, as if they just saw a ghost.

“Mom, would you give us a sec?” you quietly ask her.

She hesitates, but nods her head at last before walking out and closing the door behind her, all while you just stare at your dad blankly.

“Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted?” you ask, no screaming, no shouting, just standing there with no expression on your face and you watch him go pale at the sight of you. “You raised me to look for the things that make me happy and go after them no matter what the cost if them is. Now that I did that, you took it away from me and for what? What was the reason behind it?”

“Y/N, he is… he is way too old for you.”

“No, he is not. Fourteen years. The world has seen way worse things than that. What was the real reason behind what you did?” you push, knowing well the age couldn’t be what made him do it.

He opens his mouth several times but closes it back over and over again, no words leaving it. A bitter laugh falls from your lips as you take a deep breath.

“Congrats. You just… completely shattered my heart,” you tell him and with that, you turn around and walk out. He doesn’t try to stop you.

“Y/N, honey…” your mother stops you and looking at her, you break again, the tears spilling out of your eyes. She pulls you into her arms, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll talk to him. It’s gonna be alright, hun.”

“It doesn’t matter. I lost him,” you sob, hugging her tight, desperately needing the comfort.

“He’ll come around. He is your father, he loves you no matter what.”

“I’m not talking about dad,” you shake your head, letting go of her. “Harry. I really think I lost him,” you breathe out before heading out. You can’t stay any longer in this house.

It’s all a blur, how you get home, but the next thing you know is that you’re sitting on the floor of your shower, the hot water running down your back as you stare ahead of you blankly. You simply refuse to acknowledge how your life fell apart in just a few hours. You never know how fragile your happiness is until it’s completely shattered.

It’s been a couple of hours since you left your parents’ house and you’ve tried to call Harry a hundred times, but he never answered. You even thought about showing up at his place, but your conscience talked you down so you headed home and now you’re swimming in your own pity and pain. When you were feeling the absolute worst you called your boss that you won’t be coming to work in the morning, you caught a stomach bug. Your worn-out, deadly voice just added to your little lie and he didn’t even question it, just told you to get better and take more days if needed.

It’s hard to keep track of everything that goes through your mind, from what you could have done better to how to get back the man you love. Unfortunately, you get to the conclusion that if Harry doesn’t want to be with you, you can’t force him to come back and it feels like a knife to think about a life you have to live without him.

Sometime in the middle of the night you eventually fall asleep, tired and drained emotionally and physically too. You don’t dream, it’s just complete darkness all through the night, until you gain your consciousness back and see that it’s bright outside. You’ve slept through most of noon and your body can feel the lack of fuel, so you’re quick to eat whatever you grab first from your fridge. Checking your phone you see that Isha has called you a couple times in the morning, she probably wanted to know why you didn’t go to work, but you don’t think you have the energy to tell her what really happened yesterday.

As you spread out on your couch, not even planning to move for the rest of the day, your thoughts return to the photos that were sent to your dad. Vivian couldn’t mail them, she doesn’t even know your dad’s full name, let alone his address. That leaves you with one option.

It had to be Emmett. That fucker had the nerve to send you one last fuck you, even months after your break up because he couldn’t accept that you were the one who threw him out.

The more you think about it, the angrier and hungrier for revenge you are getting. You let him get away with so many things during your relationship and even before that. This cannot go unnoticed, he can’t just go away with ruining other people’s life. No, not this time.

Your rage almost blinds you as you jump up from the couch and rush into your bedroom to put on some normal clothes. It’s three in the afternoon and you know exactly where to find him.

Emmett studied law because his father wanted him to be a lawyer. He barely finished school, his grades were almost failing, but somehow he managed to get that degree and he is now working at his father’s law firm. His dad has always loved you, because he felt like you were pulling Emmett with you, encouraging him to finally become an adult. Often when the two of you had a fight, his dad would take your side and make him apologize to you.

So if Emmett decided to pull your dad into this nasty business, you’re gonna do the same with his, but there won’t be any mercy in it.

An eerie feeling of nostalgia washes over you when you push the heavy glass door open of the law firm’s building. Last time you were here you brought lunch for Emmett, like a good girlfriend, now you wish you put laxative in his sandwich. Luckily, the girl at the front desk has no idea that you shouldn’t be here and when you smile at her warmly, she lets you go up without a second guess. So Emmett hasn’t been too vocal about your break up at his work place, huh.

Emmett’s desk is right in front of his dad’s office, so he can’t miss you as you walk up to the door. He makes a double turn upon seeing you, his whole face going pale at your arrival.

“Y/N, what are you—“

“Shut the fuck up,” you tell him, knocking on the door of his dad’s office. He is quick to stumble out from behind his desk to stop you, but before he could reach you the door flies open and his dad, Robert is standing tall in front of you, a surprised, but warm smile on his face upon seeing you.

“Y/N! What a pleasant surprise!” His eyes switch over to his son, who is anxiously standing right behind you, you can sense his presence.

“Hello Robert, do you have some time for a little chat perhaps?” you ask, voice as sweet as honey.

“Y/N, what are you—“ Emmett attempts to interfere, but you ignore him completely.

“I promise I won’t take up much of your time,” you add, looking at Robert, who seems quite confused about what this is truly about.

“Sure, come on in,” he invites you inside at last and as you walk in, you notice that Emmett is coming with you as well. “Son, what is this… What’s happening?”

Robert returns to his desk, inspecting you and Emmett as well with a puzzled look on his face.

“Y/N you shouldn’t be here,” Emmett growls in your way, but you just brush your hair over your shoulder and taking a deep breath you get down to business.

“I think I should. Because I assume you have no idea what your son has been up to, Robert. And I just wanted to clear the air.” Slowly you turn your head to face Emmett and the fear you see in his eyes almost makes you laugh. “And make us even,” you then add with a sweet, innocent smile.

“I can’t wait to find out what this is about,” Robert sighs, leaning back in his chair, already having a feeling that his son has screwed up. Royally.

“I hope you know that we are no longer together, haven’t been for about two months,” you start.

“Yeah, heard about that,” Robert nods, his jaw clenching as his eyes jump over to his son before back at you.

“Well, I assume you heard the story differently about how we parted ways. Because according to your son, I have cheated on him with a family friend and that’s what ended our relationship. Does this version ring a bell?”

“Yes, this is exactly what Emmett has told me, but if I’m being honest, I was having a hard time believing it,” he admits and relief bubbles in your throat. He was leaning towards your side even before you came here.

Emmett growls beside you and you don’t even have to look his way to know what he is going through. He could never please his father, no matter how hard he tried, he was never enough for his dad which is sad in a way, you often ended up being the shoulder he cried on because of this issue, but right now you can’t give a flying fuck about how hurtful this is for him. Not after what he did.

“We broke up because Emmett had been treating me like shit, like I was just there for his entertainment and not because I was his partner,” you start, the rage clawing up its way on your spine.

And then you tell him all about how that one weekend happened, you even tell about finding comfort at Harry, because you’re not ashamed of it, you were as free as a bird, no one can make you feel bad for doing what was good for you. And of course, you also share Emmett’s stunt. How he got the pictures of Vivian and decided to send them to your father with the pure intention of hurting you.

All along, Robert listens intently, no word leaving his mouth until you’re finished, until you’ve gotten everything off of your chest and when you’re done, he is staring back at you with an expression you can’t quite read and for a moment you panic and think that maybe you shouldn’t have come here. And then he finally speaks up.

Robert’s eyes move over to his son and pushing himself away from the desk he stands up in an agonizingly slow pace, leaning onto his desk as his eyes pierce into Emmett’s fear filled face.

“Apologize. Now,” he orders in a tone that sends shivers down your spine. It radiates power and authority and you swear you see Emmett’s hands shaking as he remains seated beside you, frozen in fear. So when he doesn’t move or speak, something snaps in his father. His fist slams against the desk, making you both jump. “I said apologize!” he barks and you gasp for air, you’ve never seen him like this, like a ticking bomb, ready to explode any time and destroy everything around him. As a lawyer, you always knew Robert could turn into an intimidating, scary version of himself, but you never thought you’d actually witness it happen.

“A man doesn’t act like this and I didn’t raise an absolute loser! I will not let my son treat any woman like garbage! How dare you spread lies and hurt her like that?!” Robert continues, lashing completely out on Emmett, who is just sitting there, like a little child, his eyes tearing up and for a moment you almost feel bad for putting him into this situation, but then you remember all the pain he caused you. For once, you won’t let it slide, he needs to be punished for his actions.

Emmett slowly turns to face you, the smugness you’re so used to is long gone from his face as he speaks up.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N,” he mumbles, barely audible.

“Louder! Speak up for God’s sake!” Robert orders, making Emmett jump again.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for what I did!” he says, this time a lot louder, but his voice is still shaky.

Robert takes a deep breath, settling back into his chair, smoothing over his shirt as he tries hard to contain his anger.

“Y/N, I’m sorry you had to go through that because of my son. He had no right to do any of that and I’m giving you my word that he’ll atone for his mistakes and taught a lesson he won’t forget as long as he lives,” Robert sneers between his teeth.

“I just want him to leave me alone and let me find the happiness I deserve,” you say, turning to face Emmett who is not looking at you, instead, his eyes are glued to the floor at his feet. “I didn’t do anything wrong and I wasn’t gonna let someone mistreat me the way he did.”

“You don’t have to worry about my son, Y/N. And I’m sorry you had to go through that because of him. You have my word that by the time I’m done with him, he’ll regret even just thinking about hurting you ever in this life.”

You have no words, just nod as you stand from the chair and pay one last glance at Emmett, the man you once thought you loved, but only because you had not experienced true love just then. Now you know what it is, because Harry showed you.

And you’ve lost him.

It takes some time to pull yourself together enough to realize that time waits for no one and you can’t just lie in your pit of sorrow forever, even though that’s all you want to do for a long time if not forever.

Two days pass by and you busy yourself with as much work as possible. On the night after you paid your visit to Emmett’s dad Isha came over and let you cry on her shoulder, letting out all your pain and hurt and you’ve been feeling a bit better since then, but you still miss Harry terribly.

Now it’s past seven pm on Thursday, the office has cleared out an hour ago, but you wanted to stay as long as possible. You’re way ahead of your weekly tasks, but it’s still better than sitting at home on your own, pretending like your heart is not broken anymore.

It’s the same routine over again. You get home, sit for a solid twenty minutes before forcing yourself to eat something for dinner and then head to bed as early as possible. But tonight your routine gets interrupted.

Your doorbell rings right when you are about to take a shower and you stop in your tracks, because you weren’t expecting anyone. Walking up to the door you open it slightly and you can’t mask your surprise when you find your dad there.

“H-hey,” he breathes out, like he is afraid that you’re gonna lash out on him. “Sorry for coming here unannounced, but… I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”

“Oh. Um, come in,” you tell him, a little unsure of what he is doing here, but you’re not gonna send him away, even after everything that happened.

The two of you sit on your couch, it’s clear he has a lot to say, but he is trying to figure out how to start, so you just wait and wait, until he finally speaks up.

“Y/N, I am so sorry for… everything I said and… how I acted. I promise I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well you did. A lot.”

It slips out harsher than you expected, but you’re telling him the truth. For your surprise, he doesn’t try to defend himself, he just nods in agreement.

“I know. And I’m terribly sorry for that. I can… I can explain.”

“Then do it. Because I don’t see why you’d want to ruin my happiness the way you did. You were always so eager to set me up with guys, you did it not so long ago too. And then when I finally find the man I want to be with, you completely ruin it!”

“I know! I know and I’m sorry!” he growls. “I panicked! I panicked, because… I saw the way you were looking at him. I saw that glimmer, that sparkle I knew so well and I got panicked that… that I’m gonna lose my daughter. That you won’t need me anymore, because there will be a man in your life more important than me. I know, I’m selfish, but I just couldn’t help myself.”

The man you are seeing now is a thousand miles away from the one you saw on Monday, the one that chased away the man you love. He is broken and desperate and even though he hurt you immensely, he is still your dad.

“But wasn’t it what you wanted me to find? The man I look at that way you told me about? Weren’t you expecting me to find him?” you ask, already feeling your throat closing up.

“I was!” he breathes out shakily. “Or I thought so. I was just… struck that my little girl grew up and it scared me for a minute. I was desperately holding onto the thought of having you around forever and that was a mistake.”

“But you also said a lot of things about Harry too. That was just… horrible.”

“I know. And I’m not proud of that either,” he shakes his head, before rubbing his face with his palms. “I was trying to hurt him enough to leave you because I wasn’t ready to see you with someone and it even hurt me more that… I just couldn’t…” He is fighting himself, tripping over his words, but at this point you just want to hear the truth.

“Dad, just tell me. I just want to hear it all,” you plead. He takes a deep breath nodding before he continues.

“Deep down I knew he is the kind of man I imagined for you. The kind that would treat you right, but because I was panicked, I had to find something to hurt him with and… him being older was the only thing I could hold against him. But… I know it doesn’t matter.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you sniffle at his words. You understand where he was coming from, but it’s still hard to process he went into such depths just to break you apart from Harry. You want to hate him, stay mad at him forever, but it’s clear that you can’t do any of them. You still love him, it’ll however take some time for you to trust him again and forgive him for what he did.

“Right after you left, your mother basically beat sense into me,” he admits continuing.

“Wait, did she actually hit you?” you ask with widened eyes.

“No,” he shakes his head with a short, dry chuckle. “Though I would have deserved. But she put me back to my place and helped me realize how big of a screw up it all was and I just knew that I needed to make it right.”

“It still took you days to come here,” you breathe out, a bit puzzled what took him so long. He nods taking a deep breath.

“Because I went to Harry first.”

Your heart skips a beat. Your dad met Harry? He talked to him?

“I knew that if I wanted you to even consider forgiving me, I had to make things right with him first.”

“So you talked to him?” you ask, your voice dying down at the end, already choking up even at just the thought of Harry.

“I met him at his office. Went there with the pure intention of apologizing and talking sense into him to not throw it away, to not… throw you away.”

“But he doesn’t want me back, does he?” you ask, despair dripping from your words. It’s your worst nightmare, finding out that he doesn’t want anything to do with you and his radio silence has been proving this theory of yours right so far. But your dad shakes his head.

“Actually, I couldn’t even start before he told me he wants to resign, give all his rights back to me or a new owner of my choice.”

“What?”

“He said that wouldn’t feel right leading the company after what happened.”

“Did you try to convince him not to? He can’t just… throw everything away!” you gasp in shock. This is going even worse than you expected.

“I tried, believe me, I tried. I apologized, told him that I was in the wrong, that I didn’t mean anything I said and basically told him everything I told you now. But it was as if like he wasn’t even listening, he was so set on resigning, he kept saying that it’s for your sake, and that I was right about him. That he was just sucking your youth away a-and—“

“I’m sick of everyone deciding over what I should be doing with my youth!” you snap, the bubbling anger now stronger than ever. First your dad, now Harry, you’re over having others decide what you should be doing, when you are one hundred percent capable of deciding on your own. “Why is it so hard to believe that I know what I want? That I know what’s best for me?!”

“You’re right,” your dad breathes out, clearly regretting that he was once one of those doubting you. “I know that know, learned it in the hard way, but it seems like Harry is too stubborn to believe it. At least not when it’s coming from me.”

“You… you think he’ll listen to me?”

“You’re surely the only one to stand a chance. And if he is really the one you want to be… you should give it another try.”

“He is not answering my calls, dad.” The tears start flowing again, not able to control your emotions. “It’s a clear sign that he doesn’t want to see me a-and I don’t know what to do, but he really is the one I want to be with!”

“Honey,” he sniffles and you notice that his eyes glossed up too. “I know what you’re capable of.” Reaching out his hand takes yours, squeezing it tight. “My daughter goes after what she wants, no matter what. This time should not be an exception either.”

The luxurious apartment has never been this lived down, like a bomb exploded and left chaos behind with a man in the middle of it, who fell apart himself in the detonation. Or maybe he was the bomb himself.

It’s late, but Harry couldn’t tell himself what time it exactly is. Only some dim lighting is coming from somewhere in the place, maybe the bathroom? He doesn’t really know, but it’s the only reason he is not in the pitch dark. Still wearing his clothes from earlier today, the shirt is wrinkled and the first few buttons are ripped open, because he didn’t have the patience to actually undo them when he got back from the office. A half empty bottle of scotch is in front of him on the kitchen island, some of it waiting for him poured out into a glass and it surely won’t last long. Not when all he can still think about is… you.

“Fuck,” he breathes out shakily, downing the rest of the drink, almost throwing the glass back to the counter, it’s a miracle it doesn’t shatter into pieces.

Harry has been through hell since Monday. Several times. And quite frankly, he doesn’t think he’ll ever see the light, not without you. But the voices in his head are telling him that he should keep himself away from you in order to give you a chance for happiness. God, your screams and the look in your eyes is still burned into his mind, the way you begged him to stay, not to listen to your dad and just stay with you. It was the hardest thing he has ever had to do, walking away from you and keeping himself away from you after that.

It truly broke him.

Grunting he leans onto the counter and tries to get his head straight enough to at least drag himself into the shower and then to bed. It’s gonna take all of his energy, something he is not rich in lately.

Then he hears the front door open and he freezes.

Walking in you’re taken aback by the darkness and at first you think he is not even here. You notice the mess, that the once spotless, clean home is now completely all over the place. Then you see the light coming from his bathroom and as you look around, walking further inside slowly you finally see him. Hunched forward, his back facing you, barely just a shadow of the confident man you know and love so much.

“Harry?” you call out and notice how his hand grips the edge of the counter even tighter. “Harry, it’s just me,” you speak up again when he doesn’t move.

“You think I don’t know your voice? The sound of your steps?”

His voice is so low, it sends a shiver down your spine right away, but he is still not turning around.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“But I did. Because I’m not letting you ruin everything that easily.” You try to sound confident, like you are not shaking like a leaf inside.

He shakes his head that’s hanging low and you hear him exhale sharply.

“You need to leave, Y/N.”

“I’m not leaving. You are not getting rid of me, Harry,” you let out a shaky chuckle. “Why do you want to leave your position at the company?” He mumbles something, but you can’t make out what it is. “Speak up,” you tell him, finally finding the confidence you’ve been looking for since you’ve arrived. And it works because he finally pushes himself away from the counter, straightening his posture, though he is still not turning around.

“I said… Because I don’t deserve it, just like I don’t deserve you.”

Anger is clawing up your spine again, you’re starting to be fed up with the same old shit you’re getting over and over again. So you suck it up and not gonna bulge until you make him understand that he is in the wrong.

“That’s fucking bullshit. We both know it is and I’m not gonna let you decide what I should be doing or what I deserve. It’s not your job to decide.”

“Well… that’s too bad,” he breathes out.

“You know what’s too bad? That I have to keep proving that I know what’s good for myself, that I know what makes me happy, and that is… that is you, Harry! You are the one I want, the one that makes me happy and nothing can change it, not even your stubborn ass! And fucking turn around when I’m talking to you!”

Now you’re shouting. You didn’t mean to, but it just happened and you couldn’t hold yourself any longer. But it finally get shim to move, he slowly turns around, his face coming to your sight and it breaks your heart again. See him so… not himself, the pain is evident, he is not even trying to hide it at this point. Taking a step forward you reach out, but he flinches away from your hand so you stop mid-action and pull your hand back.

“I know dad came to see you. He talked to me too. I know it’s hard to forget about everything he said, but I know he didn’t mean it. None of that was true. You are not taking my youth away, you’re not ruining anything for me and if you don’t believe me, you’re a fucking idiot. Because even after everything, I’m still choosing you, I’m still here, baring myself for you, even when you’ve been pushing away every chance you got. So now you’re gonna listen to me and if you dare to say you don’t want me even after that… I’m gonna leave you to be.”

Staring at him you wait for a reaction, any reaction and then… he finally nods. So taking a deep breath you start talking, even though you have no idea where to start or where to head. You just want to make things right.

“I thought that I knew what love was. I really did. I’ve loved a lot of things in my life and some people, even. But… none of that was like the way I feel about you, Harry. I fell in love with you harder and faster than ever and I’ve known it from the moment we finally let our guards down that this was what I’ve been looking for my whole fucking life! You make me happy, really, truly happy and it actually offends me that you don’t see it! You are… everything I need and want, Harry. I love waking up next to you, I love that you always take the time to make sure I eat in the morning. I love that you’re never busy to text me even on your roughest days. It makes me happy when you let me know you’re thinking about me, because I always think about you. Always. I love when you peek at me when we are out with others, always making sure I’m alright. I love how… how you look at me, how you talk to me and let me talk all my nonsense,” you breathe out with a soft chuckle. “I just love everything about you. And if you think that anything or anyone else is ever gonna make me happy the way you do… you are wrong.”

You take a deep breath, need to collect your thoughts a little especially when you see his eyes tearing up as he just stands there, staring back at you, completely frozen.

“Harry, do you think I’m smart?”

Your question catches him by surprise, you can tell, so it takes a few heartbeats for him to answer.

“Of course. You are… brilliant, Y/N.”

“Then why do you think I don’t know what’s good for me? Why do you keep making decisions for me?”

Tears run down his cheeks as he shakes his head, his lips trembling and you take this as you queue to finally close the distance between the two of you. Taking his face in your hands you could almost die from happiness when he doesn’t move away from you, instead, he melts into your touch.

“Harry, you make me happy. I love you and I know you love me too. Why are you trying to fight me on this? Why don’t you let us be happy, hm?”

“I just… I’m so afraid I’m gonna ruin this, Y/N. I don’t want to hurt you and I’m afraid that I’ll screw it up a-and that your dad’s gonna be right.”

“It’s not gonna happen, Harry,” you promise him, fighting your own tears with not much luck.

“But what if I do screw something up?”

“Then we’ll figure it out, okay? You and me, together. Probably I’ll screw things up, would you leave me because of that too if it was the other way around? Would you hate me?”

“Of course not. There’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you, Y/N.”

“Well, that’s exactly how I feel about you, Harry,” you point out, pushing yourself up against him, needing to be as close to him as possible. “Don’t push me away. If you want me to be happy… that’s only gonna happen with you.”

He is fighting himself, hard. You can tell from the way he shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw. This is the moment, he is gonna decide whether he wants you or he is gonna push you away for good. The seconds turn into minutes and the longer the wait is, the more you’re starting to think that he’s gonna tell you to leave.

But then you feel his hands come up to hold your waist and in just a second, he wraps himself around you and you hold him just as tight, his face burying in your neck as he sobs against your skin, his fingers digging into your flesh deep, but you don’t mind it.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I love you. I love you so much…” he mumbles as you just hold him tight.

“I know. I love you too, Harry. I love you.” You mold into one big mess, but it doesn’t matter, because you got him back, he is in your arms, done with trying to run from you.

“I’m sorry for everything. You are… You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m never letting you go.”

You can’t help, but let out a happy laugh, even through your tears. Cupping his face you push him away just enough so you can look into his eyes.

“Alright, good. Because I have no idea what I would have done if you didn’t take me back,” you chuckle, wiping his cheeks with your palms.

“I’m glad you didn’t have to find it out,” he smiles and it warms your heart. “So you really want to be with me?”

“Harry, have you listened to what I just said?” you laugh in disbelief.

“I did, I just… It’s still a bit hard for me to believe that this is what you want. I mean… that you want me.”

“I would be stupid not to want you, Harry. You are… perfect.”

“Oh, I’m far from that,” he breathes out, his hand squeezing your waist.

“No, you’re perfect for me.”

He doesn’t answer for a few moments, just nods slowly, as if he is letting your words finally sink in.

“Well, I’ll try my best to give you everything you desire.”

“Already succeeded in that,” you smile at him, pulling him closer until your lips brush against his. “You are all I desire,” you whisper, before finally kissing him.

You didn’t think coming to the cabin nearing the end of October was gonna be a good idea, it can get way too cold for your liking, but now as you’re slowly waking up, a familiar warmth behind you, well, basically everywhere around you, it’s not that bad.

Blinking your eyes open you stare out the enormous windows facing the breathtaking view, but there’s another view you want to see more. Turning around in Harry’s arms you finally lay your eyes on him, his sleepy face mushed into the pillow, lips slightly parted, his curls all messy but cute. Your heart skips a beat, even after being with him for months. It’s still like the first time you woke up in his arms.

“You really should stop staring at me while I sleep,” he mumbles without even opening his eyes. His arms tighten around you as you giggle and kiss his soft lips leaning closer.

“Why? I like doing it.”

“S’ a little creepy,” he hums, his eyes finally opening and you see his green irises. “But it’s okay, I still love you.”

“Yeah? You do?” you grin at him, running a finger over the line of his nose and then his lips, as if you haven’t memorized every tiny detail about him already.

“I really do,” he smirks lazily, before leaning closer to kiss you softly. Then his head falls back into the pillow, letting out a long sigh.

“Do you remember the last time we were here?” you ask after a while. He doesn’t answer long enough to make you think he has fallen back asleep.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget about it,” he then finally answers. His eyes open again, this time staying like that as he studies your face. “Why are you asking?”

“I just feel nostalgic. Kind of feels like it was yesterday, but also like a lifetime ago.”

“A lot has happened since then,” he hums softly, his fingers delicately dancing on your naked back under the covers.

“Yeah,” you nod, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “But I would do it all over again just to get here.”

His lips part, but then close again, a soft smile tugging on the corners before he kisses you, this time dragging it out a little longer, taking his time with you. Simply, because he can. Because he has all the time in the world, because now he knows that you’re here to stay and nothing can ruin what you have.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” he breathes against your lips, his words making you shiver right away.

“Well, I couldn’t just let go of a man who can finally handle me,” you chuckle, referring back to the conversation you had in this same cabin back then, when it all started.

Harry chuckles, pushing you to your back and getting on top of you.

“Oh, I’ll handle you, baby. I’ll handle you just right,” he grins, his lips devouring you already, showing you just how well he can handle you.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

[mackenzielovee]

jealous - rafe cameron

a/n: hi! im kinda a mess right now and this story is a little all over the place so im sorry if you hate it lol but i really wanted to write something based on what i think Rafe would really be like as a bf so here it is! (not my pic)

Summary: Your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, takes you to a party.

Warnings: swearing, drug use (cocaine), alcohol consumption, mentions of sex

Word Count: 2k

my writing

You can hear the music coming from the house before you see it. It's Friday night on Figure Eight, and you already know what that means. Accompanying your boyfriend to yet another party. You and Rafe have been together for almost a year, and some days, you really think you could rip his head off.

You hadn't even wanted to come tonight. When you voiced that to Rafe, however, he told you with a shrug of his shoulders that he'd just find someone else to dance with. Of course, it started a fight, and now, you're sitting in the back of Topper's Jeep beside Rafe, watching as he stares at his phone.

He isn't talking to you or looking at you, but apparently it's enough for him that he just knows exactly where you are and what you're doing. It's not enough for you, though. You reach over and grab his hand from his phone, looping yours through it. Rafe hesitates at first, wanting his hand back so he can continue what he had been doing. When he sees your expression, his eyes soften just a bit and he relaxes into his seat and your touch.

Topper parks the car and tells all of you to hop out, which you do with the help of Rafe. You appreciate that he doesn't let go of your hand, even though you know it's only because you all are approaching the party and he wants every single person to know that you are with him.

Rafe leans over and kisses your temple quickly, then brings his lips down to your ear.

"Stay close, yeah?" he whispers, his hand gripping yours even tighter.

You know the drill by now. Of course you're going to stay close, because Rafe never lets you get more than five feet away from him at these things. You envy the way Topper treats Sarah sometimes, even though you really think Topper's a tool and would never date him.

Once you all enter the house, Rafe moves his hand from yours to around your waist, leading you through the party and glaring at any guy that even looks over at you. You all make your way into the living room area and find seats on the couch, Rafe immediately pulling you down dangerously close to him.

"Yo, who got this shit?" Rafe points to the cocaine on the table in front of him, the rolled up dollar bill tempting him.

"Bought it from Barry this morning, bro," Kelce speaks up, grinning. Kelce is always trying to please Rafe.

"Always reading my mind, brother," Rafe smirks, and leads forward to take a line without hesitation.

When he comes back up from his line, he grins and daps up Kelce, telling him it's good shit. Then, without you even moving, he leans over and kisses you roughly. His tongue enters your mouth quickly, which you accept and grab onto his neck. He moans into your mouth and then pulls away, immediately going back to the coke.

You sigh and sit back, pulling your phone out. You know Rafe will be high as a kite when you two leave tonight, which only makes you hopeful that he won't turn into an absolute asshole once that stuff kicks in.

He turns back to you with a devious smirk on his face, and before you can even ask what he's doing, he's collecting a line up on your thigh.

"I don't want that shit on me, Rafe," you grumble, but you know better than to move. He might just kill you if you spilled that shit all over the couch and the floor.

"Relax, baby," he tells you, not looking up at you. He's too focused on perfecting his line.

His friends all watch as he snorts a line up your thigh, all of them silently wishing they could do the same. You try not to roll your eyes at him and end up catching the eye of some guy standing in the corner of the room. He's watching you both, curious why you're hanging out with a guy like that. You just shrug and roll your eyes only halfway, telling the guy you're over it.

You're not sure why you do it, you suppose it's the concerned look in his eye as he watches. Nobody ever looks at you like that anymore.

When Rafe glances back up to you and sees you looking at another guy, he instinctively wraps his arm around your waist.

"I don't like the way he's looking at you," Rafe tells you, "Come sit in my lap."

His voice is raspy and his jaw is clenched as he pulls you into his lap, kissing on your cheeks and your neck as he stares at the guy. After only a minute or so, the guy is intimidated enough that he ends up walking out of the living room completely.

"Did you know him?" Rafe asks you, his eyes trailing the boy out of the room.

"No, baby," you sigh.

He catches the frustration in your voice and looks up into your eyes, reaching up and tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. This is the Rafe you love; the intimate, soft one. The one who isn't afraid to show you how he loves you.

"Are you having fun, princess?" he questions, his voice softer than it had been before.

You're not, but you know Rafe is enjoying himself and wants to stay and hang out. So, you take a deep breath and nod your head, giving him a convincing smile. Rafe smiles back and strokes his fingers against your cheek, then brings his hand down to your neck to pull you closer to him. He uses his nose to move your hair away from your ear so he can talk into it.

"I can't wait to get inside of you later, sweetheart," he whispers, feeling you instantly start to squirm against his lap.

His dirty talk always gets to you. The way his voice gets all raspy and needy just does things to your body that no other guy ever could.

"Is that right?" you tease him, bringing your lips dangerously close to him.

"Mhm," he hums against your lips, then closes the gap between the two of you.

He loves when you play with his hair, so you do. You can feel him getting excited underneath you, so you continue. One of his hands wraps around your throat and the other goes down to your ass, making you moan.

"Yo, Rafe, get a fucking room, man," Topper groans.

Rafe smirks against your lips and pulls away, gently setting you down beside him again. You try not to be mad that Topper interrupted the first ounce of attention your boyfriend has shown you tonight. Rafe leans forward to cut another line, so you stand and look around for a bathroom. When he doesn't notice you get up, you decide to just run really quick to one and then come back.

You walk from the living room into a kitchen, then see a little hallway that looks like it probably contains a bathroom. Once you get down the dimly lit hallway, you feel a hand on your arm, roughly yanking you around.

"What the fuck are you doing going off on your own?" Rafe snaps at you, his grip on your arm tightening. You can feel his nails digging into your flesh, making you wince.

"Rafe, you're hurting me," you tell him softly, gently trying to move your arm out of his grasp.

"You need to tell me when you have to go to the bathroom," he says harshly, then releases our arm.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, looking down at the floor. He brings his hand up and grabs your cheek, pulling your head up to look at him.

"C'mon," he tells you, "I'll take you."

He reaches down and takes your hand, leading you down the hallway and stopping at a random door. There's one guy waiting outside of it, who Rafe pats on the back once the two of you approach.

"Find another one," Rafe tells him.

The guy turns around and looks at Rafe like he's crazy, his eyes glancing over to you for a second. Protectively, Rafe's grip tightens around your hand.

"Dude, I've been waiting for a while. The line was long when I got here," the guy tells him, watching Rafe sarcastically smile.

"Interesting story, bro. Move along. Now," Rafe's voice is harsh.

The guy rolls his eyes and pushes past the two of you, deciding he doesn't have to go bad enough to put up with Rafe being an asshole. Rafe moves in front of the door, pulling you with him, and bangs on the door.

"Time's up," he yells, continuing to pound on the door.

The door opens up a second later, the guy Rafe had removed from the living room with his eyes earlier stepping out. Of course, you think.

"Ah, if it isn't the guy who likes to stare at my girl," Rafe grins devilishly.

"Rafe-" you start, wanting to tell him to let it go.

"Go inside, baby. I'll be right here when you're done."

He drags his hand toward the door, which in turn drags you toward the door. He lets go as soon as you're in the bathroom, then leans in and shuts the door for you. You can hear Rafe sizing up that poor guy outside, but you choose not to listen. You use the bathroom and then wash your hands quickly, trying your best to hurry so you can save that guy.

When you pull the door open again, Rafe is leaning against the doorframe with his phone in his hand. He looks up at you when you come out and doesn't speak, he just wraps his arm around your waist and leads you away, still looking at his phone.

When you get into the kitchen, Rafe suddenly pushes you up against the wall with no warning. He leans forward and grabs onto your cheeks, bringing his mouth up to yours roughly and kissing you. He quickly picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist, keeping you pinned up against the wall. You kiss him back, loving the way his hands feel all over your body. If you're honest, you're growing impatient for the night to end. You really just want Rafe to take you home and fuck you.

Rafe pulls away after a few minutes, gently setting you back down on the floor and taking his hand in yours again.

"You're mine, don't you forget it," he tells you, his voice demanding. You nod and reach up to wipe your lip, which seems to be covered in Rafe's saliva.

You watch Rafe's gaze as it lingers around the guy from the bathroom, who had just seen Rafe's explosive display of affection. You sigh, knowing that entire thing was just a way of Rafe to mark his territory.

"We're gonna go get Topper's keys," Rafe tells you, "I can't wait any longer. I need you, right now."

You give Rafe a real smile this time and nod your head, following him as he leads you through the crowd. After promising Topper you two wouldn't fuck in his Jeep, he hands Rafe his keys so you two can leave. Rafe tightens his grip around your hand as he pulls you back to the kitchen. He purposely walks past that guy again, muttering something in his ear as you two pass that you can't hear. When you look back, the guy looks disgusted.

When you two get back to Topper's Jeep, you're surprised when Rafe opens up the back door for you to get in.

"Why am I getting in the back?" you ask him.

He smirks, "We're getting in the back."

You look at the devious look on his face and figure out what he's up to, so you raise your eyebrow at him.

"You promised Topper we wouldn't fuck in his Jeep," you remind him.

Rafe rolls his eyes, "Yeah, and last month Topper promised me he wouldn't bend my nine iron when he beat up that Pogue on the golf course with my club. Trust me, baby. He owes me."

You sigh but do as you're told, watching Rafe's smirk only grow when you climb inside. No matter what that boy puts you through at these parties, the sex always makes up for it.

[peppermintsparker]

❝text me when you're back❞

summary you don't let bucky leave the house without hearing the same five words, especially when he went on missions.

warnings explicit language, maybe angsty? fluff, food is mentioned. unedited + not proof read.

authors note i listened to bucky asmr when writing this and it was nice. first part of my series and im so excited to write it and explore four of my favourite ways to tell someone you love them<3

Standing in front of the apartment door, you couldn't help but frown up at Bucky as he stood in front of you. You hated it when Bucky went away, you always worried over his safety and you wished more than anything that he would choose you over the world, just for once. "I'll be safe, I promise."

You scoffed at his words of reassurance, "need I remind you about what happened two missions ago? When Sam told me you had to get stitches? Or how about Wakanda in 2018 when you just disappeared for five entire fucking years?"

Bucky felt his heart crack a little. Too often he forgot that you weren't an Avenger, nor any form of superhero. You just worked in a small café whilst working towards your PhD in forensic psychology. Bucky didn't realise what it felt like to be the person waiting for their loved one to return home. "I'm sorry," his voice was quiet, as he dropped his bag to tenderly cradle your face in his hands. "I never realise what it's like to be in your shoes. I will be safe, I promise. You can hold me to that."

You nodded at his words, resting your hands on his as you tried to embrace the touch for a few more minutes, hoping that Sam wouldn't ruin the moment. But when the two of you heard the ping of Bucky's cell-phone, the moment was over and it was time to let the man go. "You're my best friend, even if you're the most annoying roommate. I'll be back, I promise." Bucky reassured you, moving his hands from your cheeks and picking his bag back up off the ground.

You nodded at his words, moving away to let him exit the cosy apartment the two of you shared. Running to the open window, you skidded on the hardwood flooring as you came to a stop, pushing the window open and shouting down to Bucky, just as he was going to climb into Sam's car, "hey! Text me when you're back?"

The super soldier nodded as he got into the vehicle, but you didn't move until they had driven off into the horizon. Despite living with him ever since Bucky came back from the fight with the Flag Smashers, you were adamant that he texted you as soon as he was back. It was how it worked, you would message on your way home from long days at campus whilst he would message on his way home from missions.

It had been thirty six hours since Bucky left for his mission, and in the day and a half that he had been gone, you had received precisely three messages from him: one to say goodnight, one to say good morning and another to say that he's okay but it's hard getting any form of connection to use technology so he might not be able to stay in contact. This didn't surprise you, nor concern you, for the two of you didn't get to stay in contact much whilst he was away.

It was five and a half more days before the mission ended and Bucky was able to make his way back home. He was sat in the car, nursing a cup of cheap gas station coffee, whilst Sam yammered on about something Bucky didn't pay any attention to, until a familiar name was brought into the conversation. The brunet almost choked on his coffee, looking at the man beside him with a disgruntled face. "Absolutely not. Never in a million years will I set you up with them!"

Sam just shrugged, continuing the drive whilst Bucky turned his attention to the scenery. Eight hours later, and the car was pulling up beneath the apartment complex and Bucky dropped his cardboard cup into the cupholder, pulling out his phone to send an important message before grabbing his bag from beneath his feet and sliding out the car. He thanked Sam for the ride, waiting for the man to speed away before peering up to see a familiar face peeking out the window, trying to catch a glimpse.

Fidgeting in your spot, you waited for Bucky to burst through the door and what felt like seconds later, he had opened the door and you had launched yourself into your best friends arms. Laughter filled the apartment, and the man span you around a few times before putting you down and closing the blue door. "I missed you."

Bucky smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before letting you know he was going to go shower and change into clean clothes. The laundry could wait until tomorrow, the two of you decided, and instead you settled on choosing a movie and tugging the softest blanket you owned out of the closet. Movie nights when he returned had become tradition for the two of you, and nothing changed it. Even that time you disagreed over something and didn't talk to each other for two weeks, including the spontaneous three day mission he had been on, it had been the movie night which had resolved it.

"10 things I hate about you, or Clueless?" you asked your best friend as soon as he had emerged from the bathroom. Bucky was towel drying his short hair, a pair of plaid printed pajama pants hung off his hips, and he hummed as he chose. Nodding towards Clueless, you grinned as you popped the disc into the DVD player, waiting for Bucky to sling his towel over an opened door before he plopped down onto the couch.

The movie started with the two of you sitting in silence, a bowl of popcorn, which Bucky had made during quick break in the movie, rested on the coffee table with the two of you occasionally taking handfuls from it. The movie ended with your head in Bucky's lap, the blanket covering you as you snored softly with Bucky's head lolled onto the back of the couch, his snores filling the lounge as the menu screen repeated itself.

It was noon before you woke up, head resting against Bucky's pillow with the scent of blueberry pancakes filling the air. Stretching as you sat up, you saw Bucky leaning against the wall with his keys in hand. "I'm gonna go grab some groceries from the store. Pancakes are on the counter, and I've even left my shampoo for you to use."

You nodded with a yawn, getting up from the couch and heading towards the counter where you took a pancake and tore it up. Bucky waited until you had finished eating the pancake, unable to leave before the five words had been said.

"Text me when you're back."

[butterflyyeo]

drunk in love

pairing - yeosang x fem reader

genre - fluff, angst (?)

tw - lots of alcohol consumption, swearing

wc - 10k

side ships - seongjoong, yungi

a/n -- was meant to be angst but turned into fluff... im trying my best to get better at writing angst aaaah. but please enjoy this for now <3 thanks for letting me tag you @iminchaosnow !!

------------------------------------------- you had known kang yeosang for nearly two years now. two, dreadfully slow and exhausting years.it was your final year of high school when he transferred to your school, he was a close family friend of wooyoung's. his parents had spoken highly of the school, insisting that yeosang transfers in order to excel for his last year of schooling. as far as you were concerned, he had decent grades, but he preferred to spend his time hanging around the skatepark after dark, when everyone else had left.

and in all the two years you'd known him, you had never once had a full conversation with him, despite being in your group of friends. his side of the 'conversation' usually consisted of monotonous 'yeahs' and 'mhms'. wooyoung constantly assured you it was because he's shy and that he'd eventually open up. but you weren't convinced. you tried so hard for him to like you, but your efforts were fruitless. it was infuriating, feeling like you were constantly doing something wrong whenever you were around him.

you currently found yourself in the backseat of yeosang's car, wedged between a drunken yunho and mingi while a chaotic wooyoung was singing along to his chosen playlist. (though, it sounded more like wailing.)

you and the eight boys had all decided to take a gap year, spend every last cent you earned on adventure and alcohol to make lifelong memories, before your careers became a blockade in your friendship. but the year was coming to an end soon, it was already mid november. on the bright side, that meant your favourite holidays were just weeks away.

yeosang was always the designated driver. that was something you had noticed about him over the last few years. to be honest, you weren't sure just how he coped with a screeching wooyoung, because you sure as hell weren't dealing very well with yunho and mingi who were playing a very intense game of rock paper scissors to decide who would be crashing on the couch in your apartment.

"i win!" mingi cheered, waving his hands excitedly. "you're on the couch, man."

yunho frowned, "damn."

you laughed, "it's okay, yunho. you can share the bed with me if you'd like."

"hey! that's not fair y/n! you said i could this time." wooyoung whined from the front seat.

"sorry, woo. you know i keep my promises, but you're going back to your apartment. remember?" you tried to reason.

wooyoung looked as though someone had switched a lightbulb on behind his eyes, "oh yeah! i forgot."

the four of you burst into laughter, mainly caused by the alcohol and partially because of wooyoung's realisation. and still, yeosang didn't crack a smile, hands just gripping the steering wheel tighter as his knuckles turned white.

soon, you arrived outside your apartment block, quickly stepping out the car after yunho. wooyoung wound his window down and you poked your head in, attempting to hug him goodbye.

"bye woo!" you said, giggling at your faltered farewell.

"good night y/n, thanks for the drinks!" he shouted, exclaiming a bit too loudly next to your ear.

"thanks for the lift as always, yeosang!" you yelled, pulling away from wooyoung's tight hug.

he nodded, "no problem." before putting the window up and driving away.

you pouted, turning around to face the two boys. "i just don't understand what i'm doing wrong." you buried your face into your hands, "why doesn't he like me?" you groaned.

"y/n." mingi began, "its nearly 1am, its way too late for this 'why does yeosang hate me?' crap." he shook your shoulders, literally trying to shake some sense into you.

"yeah, mingi's right. we've had this discussion a thousand times." yunho said grasping your wrist and pulling you up the stairs, stumbling along the way. (because lets be real, stairs are difficult enough as it is, let alone when drunk.) "now, let us into your apartment so we can eat your food and crash on your couch!" he joked, nudging mingi in a playful manner.

you reached into your pocket and fumbled around with they key for a moment before unlocking the door. the boys practically pushed you inside and made a beeline for the fridge.

"help yourselves! i'm going to shower." you called, dragging yourself to your bedroom.

once you'd finished showering you went back to the living room to check on yunho and mingi. not so much to your surprise, they had fallen asleep on your couch already, cuddled up into each other. it was cute, even picture worthy to show their sober selves. you reached for your phone which typically lived in your pocket, though you began to panic when it wasn't there. hurrying around the apartment, you searched every possible nook and cranny for your phone, but it was nowhere to be found. you collapsed onto your bed, snuggling into the soft sheets, too tired to worry about your phone anymore and content with the assumption that you'd left it in yeosang's car.

shortly, your heavy eyes fell shut and you began to sleep away the tequila.

————————

the next morning you awoke to mingi and yunho's deep, hungover voices, discussing their plans for the next week.

you reluctantly pulled yourself out of bed and dawdled down the hallway.

"ah! there's our favourite karaoke partner!" yunho greeted, jokingly.

you laughed, "shh, don't let wooyoung hear you say that."

"she's right, man. he'd be so offended." mingi said, stretching out his sore limbs. "how are you feeling today, y/n?" he asked.

"not the worst hangover i've had. what about you guys? you're welcome to stay here as long as you'd like, until you feel better." you replied, knowing them well enough to know that they'd need at least a few painkillers and a good meal before they went home.

yunho chuckled, "i feel like crap, but nothing a sandwich and glass of water can't solve."

"i second that." mingi said, raising a hand.

"okay, well in that case, i'll go to the store and get something for breakfast. sound good?" you reasoned, running a hand through your hair. you loved these boys, and making them breakfast was just a nice way of showing you cared. drunk or not, they knew how to make you smile and laugh, which they loved to see.

"sounds amazing!" yunho said, breaking into a sincere smile.

you quickly changed out of your pyjamas and slipped some shoes on.

"i might be a bit longer, i need to stop by yeosang's. i think i left my phone in his car." you explained, picking your keys up from the kitchen counter. "see you guys soon! feel free to take a shower if you want." you said, waving goodbye and heading out the door.

"okay, bye y/n!" the boys called from behind you.

the first stop was yeosang's apartment, he only lived about ten minutes away with wooyoung and san, in the same building as jongho. both yunho and mingi lived on the other side of town, which is why they so often crashed at your place after parties. seonghwa and hongjoong were fortunate enough to live in a house, just outside town, they had actually been the hosts of last night's party.

it didn't take long to get there. you pushed open the lobby door and made your way over to the elevator, disappointed to see that it was out of order for maintenance. instead, you took the stairs and began spiralling upwards. less than a minute later you looked up, only to bump into the man you came looking for.

"oh, yeosang! i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to." you quickly apologised, worried about creating another reason for him to dislike you.

"it's fine." he shrugged.

you both began to talk again at the same time, "ah, sorry, you go."

"i was just gonna say, you left your phone in my car. actually, i was about to bring it back." he pulled your phone from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to you. as he did, your fingers brushed against his. he spun around suddenly and began to walk away, "i'll see you around."

he had left before you even had a chance to thank him. slightly confused and frustrated, you turned back around and traipsed down the stairs.

you gathered what you needed for a hearty breakfast at the local convenience store before heading home and spending the rest of the day in the enjoyable company of yunho and mingi.

yeosang had entered back into his apartment and sat down on the couch.

"back already?" wooyoung asked, rummaging through the fridge.

"she was coming to get her phone and i ran into her on the staircase."

wooyoung sighed, "when are you gonna stop hating her?"

"i don't hate her." yeosang said, not looking up from his phone.

"then why do you act like you do?"

yeosang pretended to not hear that question and continued to scroll through his phone. see, he'd rather not dwell on things that he couldn't understand.

————————

to fill up your weekdays during your gap year, you had picked up a job at a hotel in town as a receptionist. to your dismay, your boss had asked you to work night shift all week, which is how you found yourself here on thursday night, sitting alert and waiting for the slight chance that someone might check in at this time of night. it was a pretty fancy hotel, and the job payed well enough, so really, you had nothing to complain about.

the nights seemed to drag on for an eternity. to keep yourself busy, you often wasted time counting the cars that drove past, or tried to count the number of crystals that hung from the chandelier. so far, only a few people had checked in during your shift, having come from overseas and recently arriving at the airport. honestly, whenever someone walked through the front door, lugging a suitcase behind them, you got excited as it gave you something to do.

the clock was creeping up to 4am and you let out a quiet yawn, feeling drowsy as your body clock hadn't yet adjusted to the change of sleeping patterns on such short notice. taking a sip of water, you shook your head, trying to stay awake. your head suddenly jolted up at the sound of the front door opening.

a man stumbled forward, and you'd seen enough zombie movies to become instantly paranoid. you quickly pushed the thought out of your head, feeling ridiculous for even considering it. but as the man got closer, you could smell the cheap, potent alcohol lingering on his body.

he leant against the desk, peering down at you. "i need a room for the night."  he grumbled. "my stupid wife kicked me out." he said under his breath.

you forced a friendly smile, despite feeling uneasy, "of course! i just need you to fill in this form with some simple details." you said, sliding across a clipboard and a pen.

he huffed, picking up the pen and scribbling onto the sheet of paper before pushing it back to you. "can i go now?"

"just a moment, sir." you replied, eyes skimming over the form as you copied the information into the computer in front of you.

the man was growing impatient, stepping from foot to foot with his arms crossed.

"uh, sir, you missed a part of the form. could you please provide your phone number here." you pointed to the empty space on the sheet.

"for fucks sake." he muttered, "i don't have my phone on me and i don't know my phone number." he said, annoyedly tapping on the desk.

"i'm really sorry, sir, but—"

"can't you just find me a fucking room?" he snapped, hands balled into fists and slamming against the desk, making you jump in fright.

before you had time to try and reason with him, he continued to shout.

"you're as stupid as my wife! i'll just find a different fucking hotel." he yelled, swiping the clipboard and pen off the desk. "useless bitch." he mumbled as he kicked over a chair on his way out.

you chewed your bottom lip, trying to fight back the tears. with shaky hands, you picked up your phone and dialled the first place that came to mind. after a few rings, the phone answered.

"woo?" you croaked, trying hard to not cry.

"he's asleep. this is yeosang." he replied, evidently having just woken up by the sound of his voice.

"oh." you began, instantly feeling guilty for waking him up, "i'm sorry i didn't mean to disturb you."

"did you need something?" he asked.

"i just, i was..." you let out a sob, wiping at a tear falling from your eye.

this didn't go unnoticed by yeosang, "are you crying? what are you doing awake right now anyway?"

"i'm at work." you managed to choke out.

"at 4am?"

"i'm on night shift."

"why are you crying then?" he asked, feeling something slightly tug at his heart, but choosing to ignore it.

you began to ramble, "a man came in and he was really drunk and complaining about his wife and then he yelled at me because i asked him to give his phone number and—"

"i'm on my way." yeosang cut you off.

"what?"

"i'll be there in ten." with that, he hung up the phone.

exactly ten minutes later, you were sat in the passenger seat of yeosang's car. he was dressed in sweats, clearly having come straight from bed. you'd left a note on the desk, explaining to your coworker why you wouldn't be there when she arrived to take over your shift. a silence filled the car, and you felt the need to talk, but chose not to, worried about giving yeosang another reason to hate you.

once you arrived outside your apartment building, you were surprised that yeosang got out the car too and trailed closely behind you up the stairs to your apartment. when you reached the door you spun around to face him.

"thank you for bringing me home." you said, voice quiet and still rather shaken up.

"it's no problem. good night, y/n." he replied, sensing that you were still upset. he suddenly felt this overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around you tightly and not let go until you stopped crying. he wanted to protect you from every drunk idiot on the planet. he wanted to make you feel safe.

but instead, he watched as you closed the door behind you and locked it from inside.

————————

you arrived at work the next morning, instantly feeling more comfortable with cleaners, employees and people coming and going. immediately, you headed for your boss's office.

"good morning, sir. i just wanted to come and apologise for leaving my shift early last night. i can assure you it won't happen again." you said, feeling nervous as to what your boss might say.

he shook his head, "i should be the one apologising, a man came in this morning and spoke very sternly about the safety problems here. i realise now how stupid it was of me to make you work night shift, alone, at such a young age. we've hired security guards and have also made sure that two people will be on desk at all times. i'm sorry that you had to deal with that."

you were at a loss for words, you didn't think that there would be such drastic changes just from the once incident. "thank you so much." you replied.

"for now, take the rest of the day off. you'll only be working day shifts for next week and can return to doing night shifts whenever you feel ready to do so." your boss said, motioning for the door.

the rest of the day you spent in deep sleep, catching up on some much overdue rest.

———————

weeks passed and you found that work was much more enjoyable. you still hadn't returned to working night shifts, but at least now you had someone to run the front desk with you and keep you company.

this weekend, you were going to visit hongjoong and seonghwa. hongjoong was sick and so you decided to go help out since seonghwa couldn't always be there to look after him.

you knocked on their front door and was surprised to be greeted by san.

"good afternoon! come in." he gave you a hug before ushering you inside.

"what are you doing here?" you said, following him down the hall.

in the living room, you saw all eight of the boys gathered around a couch-ridden hongjoong.

"jongho was already here when me, yeosang and woo arrived." san explained.

"yeah, and then mingi and yunho turned up." wooyoung continued.

"y/n! i have never been more glad to see you! you gotta save me from them." hongjoong laughed, arms open, signalling for a hug.

you went over and embraced him in a hug, "good thing i brought an excessive amount of cookies." you said, placing the box of cookies on the coffee table next to the couch. the table was covered in empty mugs and bowls, you could tell seonghwa had been busy and hadn't had the chance to clean up. you opened up the box and handed him a cookie before offering them around to the rest of the boys.

"you're the best cook ever." mingi said, taking a big bite.

"i made you spaghetti last night!" yunho countered, feeling offended that his roommate didn't think he was the better cook. mingi just laughed and took another bite.

"jongho get off the counter, please." seonghwa said, coming through the front door. "don't be so comfortable, you were throwing up in my toilet like a month ago." he joked.

yeosang glanced your way, his eyebrows furrowed like he was contemplating something.

"lets head off and give these two some space." yunho said, dragging mingi behind him.

wooyoung stood up, "yeah, lets get going."

yeosang pulled his keys from his pocket, "okay, bye guys." he said, heading down the hallway.

"can we get some food on the way home?" you heard san call as they left.

"bye hongjoong! i hope you're feeling better soon." jongho said, "bye seonghwa, i promise i won't throw up in your toilet any time soon." he joked, leaving through the front door.

"seonghwa, how are you? don't forget to take some time for yourself as well." you frowned.

"i'm tired, but i'll be okay. i just gotta clean up and—"

"why don't you go rest a while? i can keep hongjoong company for a few hours." you reasoned, wanting to help as much as possible. there was nothing you hated more than seeing you friends in distress and upset.

he looked between hongjoong and yourself, "i couldn't."

hongjoong let out an audible huff, "hwa! will you just let her help please, she clearly wants to."

you grinned, "exactly, now go read or sleep or watch some tv or something." you said, gently pushing him towards their shared bedroom.

you spent the afternoon tidying up and talking with hongjoong. you managed to do all the dishes and put them away before scouring their kitchen, deciding on what you could use for dinner. you found everything you needed for a decent meal and began cooking it up. hongjoong had dozed off mid conversation, surrounded in a pile of tissues, you chose to let him sleep so he would recover quicker.

about an hour later, you placed two steamy hot meals onto their dining table next to two full glasses of water. you quietly knocked on their bedroom door, finding seonghwa asleep amongst the covers.

you gently shook him awake, "hwa, i made dinner for you guys. you can wake joong up, i'll head off now." you said with a smile.

leaving the two of them to enjoy their dinner, you headed home and cooked yourself something to eat. it was nice having some time to yourself, but saturday nights were becoming more and more empty as winter grew closer. december was only days away and the year would soon come to an end. you reached for the phone, suddenly desperately missing your friends despite only seeing them hours ago.

"hey woo, are you free next weekend?" you asked.

he paused a moment, "i think so, why?"

"you wanna go out with the others? it's been a while since we have all caught up for drinks."

"count me in!" wooyoung cheered.

you called everyone else up and they all agreed, even hongjoong promised to come if he was feeling better.

————————

you found yourself surrounded by wooyoung, san, yunho and mingi as the music blared. it was a less popular club on the far side of town but it was a comfortable place for you all. you often came here for drinks and the staff members knew you, quite well, a little too well. san grabbed your hand and spun you around a few times with the music.

you laughed, leaning against him, "maybe spinning around isn't the best idea right after two shots of vodka."

"what?" san yelled into your ear, struggling to hear you over the music.

you laughed louder, pulling him closer to you, "i said, spinning is not a good idea after drinking vodka!"

"oh!" he joined you in laughing before trying to twirl you around once more.

hongjoong and seonghwa sat at the bar, holding hands and being intimate as always. yeosang was sat next to jongho at a booth, quietly talking with him, but from the corner of your eye, you saw jongho stand up and walk away. your eyes watched him worriedly and you couldn't help but run after him. you followed him as best you could, stumbling every now and then. he'd gone to the bathroom so you patiently waited outside until he came back, looking slightly pale.

you practically leapt at him, doing a quick scan to make sure he was okay, "jongho? are you alright?"

he smiled at your overwhelming concern, "yeah, i just drank too much as usual. i'll be alright, you can go back to dancing."

"let me just get you some water first. i'll be right back okay?" you patted his shoulder. "don't go anywhere i'll be back in a second."

you made your way back to where jongho had been sitting with yeosang. as you approached, yeosang eyed you up and down, taking in your drunken state, though, it wasn't the first time he'd seen you this way. you nearly tripped as you reached the table, struggling to walk in heels.

"i need a glass of water, do you have a glass of water? jongho needs a glass of water." you mumbled to yourself, reaching for the jug in the center of the table.

"are you okay?" yeosang asked, quickly pushing your hand away from the jug.

"i'm okay, but jongho needs water. can i take this cup? he's waiting for me, i told him not to go anywhere, i need to get back to jongho—" you tried to pick up a glass but yeosang pressed your hand back down once more.

"i'll take it to him, you stay here." he said, filling the cup full with water and heading towards the bathrooms.

your brain suddenly felt fuzzy and your eyes became blurry, it was like the alcohol hit your system all at once. your head spun round and round and you leaned forward, resting your hands on your head. you'd never felt this sick from drinking, maybe you'd had too much too quickly, maybe it was the spinning. there was no way to tell, all you knew was that you felt like you were about to fall from the top of a very high roller coaster.

your eyes felt increasingly heavy, you allowed them to slip shut, head falling to the table with a not so gentle thud.

"y/n?" someone shook you, "y/n wake up!" it was wooyoung.

"shit, is she okay? should we call an ambulance?" jongho said, reaching for his phone.

"is she breathing? has anyone checked?" seonghwa gently lifted your shoulders and sat you upright, relieved to see the rise and fall of your chest. "we should call a taxi and get her home."

"are you crazy? she's unconscious, she won't be able to get up the stairs to her apartment! what if the driver is dodgy? she's already had to deal with shitty men while working night shift, imagine if something happened while she's drunk!" yeosang blurted out. the boys were shocked over his sudden concern for you. yeosang had never once shown any interest or care for you in the presence of them.

"well, what should we do then?" mingi asked, worriedly running a hand through his hair.

"i'll take her, you've all been drinking." yeosang concluded. "she'll be fine, don't worry. enjoy the rest of your night, okay? i've dealt with woo passing out before remember?"

"that's true." san said, throwing a light hearted glare in wooyoung's direction, who showed a rather sheepish expression.

the boys went back to their drinks, taking it a little slower now and yeosang carried you to his car. it wasn't easy, but he managed to sit you upright in the back seat of his car with his rear view mirror aimed directly at you so he could make sure you were okay.

he was able to lift you up the stairs and get your house key from the pocket of your jacket, which would've looked questionable to anyone else, but he had the best intentions. he sat you down in a dining chair, watching as your head lolled forward and your body slumped. he quickly filled a glass of water and came back to you.

"y/n." he whispered, resting a hand on your shoulder. "y/n." he said again, louder this time.

the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, but you weren't waking up and that was becoming concerning. he shook your shoulder, as gently as he possible could in a moment like this, and to his relief, your eyes hesitantly opened.

your head felt like a bowling ball and you groaned quietly. "yeosang?"

"here." he said holding the cup to your lips, allowing you to take a small sip.

"how did we get here?" you mumbled, head rolling to the side.

he caught your head and carefully pushed you back upright, "i drove you, this is your apartment."

"oh." you said, eyes drooping shut again. "oh." you repeated.

"y/n, i really need you to stay awake right now." he said, bringing the cup to your mouth again. "lets talk."

"we never talk!" you exclaimed. "this is the longest conversation we've ever had!"

"i know." he said, pulling up a chair to sit directly in front of you. yeosang felt that slight tug at his heart again tonight, the way you sounded so excited just to talk with him.

"no, no, no." you whined, "this is so bad!"

"what is it?"

you pouted before nervously biting your lip, "i'm really sorry."

"for what?" he questioned, leaning back in his chair.

"for ruining your night and making you stay here with me! now you just have another reason to hate me." you sighed, letting your head fall into your hands.

"i could never hate you." he said, voice barely above a whisper.

but you had fallen back asleep, so yeosang sat you upright once more and monitored you closely all night. with every minute that passed, he wished more and more that it was easier for him to show his emotions, to you especially. he wondered if maybe he wasn't so closed off that things would be different between the two of you. but it was hard for him, to let people in, he was afraid. afraid of people judging the real him, afraid of what might happen if he lets himself become vulnerable, afraid of facing his feelings about you.

you awoke hours later with a raging headache and extreme nausea. you headed straight for the bathroom and hunched over the toilet, feeling the sickest you'd ever felt. yeosang waited patiently outside the bathroom door with a glass of water and painkillers.

when you came out, he held his hand out, "take this."

you looked down at his hand and then up at him, slightly confused, "what are you doing here?"

"you passed out last night, and i drove you home because everyone else had been drinking." he said, passing the glass of water.

"oh my god." you ran a hand through your hair, "yeosang, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to be any trouble! you must of been here all night, i promise it won't happen again, that was so stupid of me—"

"it's fine, don't worry about it." he said, shrugging, "i'll get going now, but make sure you take it easy and drink enough water." his eyes carefully scanned your body one last time, making sure you were really okay. he headed for the door and you followed.

"i'm really sorry." you frowned, feeling as though no amount of apologies would make it up to him.

he let out a slight chuckle, "it's okay, seriously y/n." he said before leaving. you heard the all too familiar jingle of his keys as the door closed behind him.

he'd stayed with you all night, eyes watching over you closely. ready at your side whenever you stirred in your sleep. he'd been there in the morning prepared with water and painkillers. this was never how it was, usually this was your job, taking care of the boys. it was your way of showing you cared, helping out wherever possible.

this wasn't like yeosang. at all.

————————

as soon as yeosang got home he was greeted by a very concerned san and wooyoung.

"is she okay?"

"are you tired?"

"did she wake up?"

he was bombarded by questions.

"she's okay, she fell asleep after a while and i made her take some painkillers when she woke up." yeosang said, collapsing onto the couch.

"so you really don't hate her then." wooyoung thought aloud.

"he can't, he spent the whole night looking after her!" san said, hitting wooyoung like it was obvious.

"owww," wooyoung rubbed his arm, "even she thinks you don't like her!"

"i know, she said last night. but she probably won't remember saying that." yeosang said, feeling increasingly drowsy from his lack of sleep.

"maybe you guys should like, talk things out?" san suggested, taking a seat next to him.

"maybe." yeosang said, drifting off into sleep.

you had spent the day curled up in bed, wondering how you could make it up to yeosang, and there was nothing more you wanted than to get to know him better, but what would he want? you called up san on that thought.

"hey sannie," you said, "i need your help, actually, is woo there as well?"

"oh my god she's alive!" you heard wooyoung call from beside san.

"what do you need help with?" san asked.

you paused a moment, "is yeosang there?"

"well yes, but he's asleep."

you groaned, "i feel so bad that he stayed up all night looking after me. i really wanna make it up to him but i don't know how. plus, it's not like he's that fond of me. maybe i should just thank him by staying out of his space."

"i don't think he'd like that." wooyoung interjected. "i still think he just needs time before opening up to you."

"i think its just me." you sighed, worriedly chewing on your bottom lip.

"hey! don't be like that! there's no reason to not like you." san scolded you for down talking yourself as he always does.

"agreed." wooyoung said, chiming in.

"i'm sure i'll work something out. thanks guys! enjoy the rest of your day!" you said.

"good luck!"

"bye y/n!"

————————

you had been staring at your phone for at least an hour, typing and retyping the message to yeosang. wooyoung gave you his number so that you could contact him when you'd finally worked out how to make it up to him. in the end, you decided that you would let him decide.

you drew in a sharp breath and squeezed your eyes tightly shut as you pressed send.

you: hey yeosang, i still feel really bad about the other day, i wanna know how i can make it up to you !!

yeosang: did wooyoung give you my number? T~T

you: yes he did.. i hope thats okay !

yeosang: of course yeosang: how about you make it up to me over a cup of coffee? >.<

you: that sounds great !! you: when are you free ?

yeosang: does tomorrow morning work for you ? i can pick you up ^_^

you: of course ! i'll see you tomorrow :)

yeosang sat in his room, facepalming. why was it so easy to be more open over text?

you on the other hand, felt your heart swell in a bizarre way. maybe it was the way you hadn't expected him to use such cute little emoticons. maybe it was the way that you'd be able to have a full conversation with him. whatever it was, excitement had taken over you.

————————

a knock pounded at your door and you rushed to open it.

"ready to go?" he asked, leaning against the door frame coolly.

"yes, lets go!" you said, sounding a little too excited.

the two of you made your way down the stairs and into yeosang's car. you found yourself smiling as you looked out the window.

your excitement hadn't gone unnoticed, "you seem awfully excited."

"i really wanted to make it up to you," you beamed. "it must've been boring to watch over me all night."

"i didn't mind so much." he said, shrugging.

you frowned, "you shouldn't of done it."

"and leave you passed out in the club?" he quirked an eyebrow up at you.

"well..."

"exactly." he said, parking the car outside a small cafe nearby his apartment. "come on, lets go inside."

you followed him in and took a seat across from him at a table close to the window. you both ordered coffees and resumed conversation.

"so, where were we?" you smiled, taking a sip of coffee.

"talking about how you wanted me to leave you passed out in the club." he said. you were almost convinced you saw a teasing smile pulling at his lips.

"right. i'm so sorry about that."

this time he actually chuckled, and you were taken aback. it was like the wall yeosang had surrounding himself was crumbling before your eyes.

"you need to apologise less." he laughed, bringing his coffee cup to his mouth for a sip. "half of the time we talk its just you saying sorry to me."

"i'm so—"

"hey!" the two of you broke into laughter.

his laugh was loud but warm and you couldn't help but notice the way his nose scrunched up cutely, the way his eyes looked full of stars and the way he brushed his hair out of his eyes after, revealing his beautiful birthmark. from that point on, you wanted to be the one to make him laugh every day.

he felt that familiar tug at his heart, the one he'd been feeling every moment he spent alone with you. the one he felt when he first met you. the one he couldn't make any sense of. it was as though his heart was a violin and you were the one playing it. (which would explain the tugging feeling.) but you were playing the sweetest song and he never wanted it to end.

the two of you laughed the morning away, gradually making up for what you'd missed over two years in a matter of two hours.

you'd discovered that even after getting him to open up more, he wasn't one for words. you found yourself talking his ear off while he listened intently, occasionally sharing his opinions and stories. in all his honesty, he didn't mind listening to you talk. he could've sat there all day, drinking countless cups of coffee, watching the way you bit your bottom lip whenever you paused to think or the way your eyes filled with sparkles when you talked about something that made you happy.

you insisted on paying for the infinite cups of coffee, as it was your way of making it up to him. he reluctantly agreed, but promised that he would pay if there ever was a next time, which he secretly hoped there would be. he'd finally had the chance to let his walls down. (it was actually more like you'd climbed the walls and torn them down with your bare hands.) but he was thankful for it.

he drove you back to your apartment, even after you persisted on walking home, seeing as it wasn't that far. he refused, insisting that he drive you. he even followed you up the stairs to the door of your apartment.

you turned around to face him, "you know, you're not so bad when you actually wanna talk to me."

"you know, you're not so bad when you're not drunk." he countered, his lips breaking into a playful grin.

you glared jokingly, "hey! don't make me apologise again."

"okay, okay. i won't." he said, raising his hands in defence.

you smiled, resting against the door, "alright, well, i've really enjoyed hanging out with you today. maybe we should catch up more often."

"maybe we should." he said, bearing a coy smile, "bye, y/n. i'll see you around."

————————

it was only about a week later he showed up at your work, at the end of your shift. you were pleasantly surprised to see him, and at first thought he was just someone coming to book a room.

"hello, are you looking for a r— yeosang?"

"when do you get off work?" he asked, glancing over to the clock.

"five minutes."

"i'll be waiting in the car, okay?" he said, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

on his way out, you saw as he ran into your boss, the two of them beginning conversation.

"it's good to see you've made those security changes." yeosang said as he nodded, extending his arm for a friendly handshake. "i'm very thankful."

your boss shook his hand, "and i'm thankful that you suggested them."

just over five minutes later you got into the passenger seat of yeosang's car.

"it was you who told my boss about the safety problems." you said, in near disbelief.

"hello, to you too." he joked sarcastically. "well, i would hate to think that the situation could happen again, so i just suggested some possible improvements. thats all." he shrugged like it was nothing.

"suddenly, i feel the need to make it up to you again." you smiled shyly.

"you can do that by accompanying me to the skate park." he said, motioning to his skateboard on the back seat.

"ah, so thats why you came."

"well yeah, i wanted to bring you to the skate park."

your heart swelled once again, feeling joyed that he wanted to share one of his favourite places with you. (despite him never telling you directly, you knew he loved the skate park as he spent majority of his high school time there when he wasn't studying.)

when you arrived, the sun was beginning to slip behind the horizon, causing the sky to glow a rosy pink. there were still a few kids, probably high schoolers, hanging around the park. you took a seat at a bench and waited for yeosang to come over, who was getting his skateboard out the car. you felt oddly out of place since you were still in your neat work uniform and didn't know the first thing about skateboarding.

yeosang rolled over with a grin plastered onto his face, you'd never seen him so happy, and it made you happy to see him this way. it was strange how all it took was a few cups of coffee for him to become a completely different person around you.

he didn't need to ask you to watch as your eyes were already glued to him as he dropped into the bowl, showing countless tricks and flips.

the truth was in fact that yeosang was grateful for you 'making it up to him'. he'd never been able to comprehend his feelings for you, if they were even feelings at all. he hated the confusion and decided it was easier to ignore it, and to an extent, ignore you, to make it go away. it had been working for the most part, until every time the two of you were alone together, he couldn't ignore the slight tug at his heart, that was becoming more of a pull over the last few weeks.

"you're amazing!" you cheered as he sat down next to you, out of breath.

"thanks." he smiled shyly, running a hand through his hair and out of his face. he leaned back, looking up at the sky. "do you sometimes wish you could see the stars from within the city? hongjoong and seonghwa are so lucky they can see them from their house."

you pondered a moment, thinking about the last time you actually saw stars in the sky. "i see stars in your eyes sometimes." you said, absent minded.

he felt warmth burning in his cheeks, "you do?"

"do what?" you turned to him, "did i say that out loud?" you gasped, covering your face in embarrassment. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to say that it was just a thought and—"

"what did i say about apologising?" he laughed. "it's getting cold, right? you ready to head home?" he asked.

you smiled, "if you are."

he drove you home and said goodbye, feeling happy about spending time alone with you once again. he couldn't stop thinking about what you said and you couldn't stop feeling like a fool for saying it.

————————

the weather got colder and colder and soon it began to snow as the days of december passed. you had spent the day helping jongho move some new furniture into his apartment. it was a difficult job, but easier with the two of you, even san and wooyoung came to help. you couldn't resist wondering where yeosang was and why he didn't come, seeing as they lived in the same building. maybe he was busy, you thought.

"hey, where's yeosang?" you asked, lifting a box and placing it on the kitchen counter.

"at home, i think he's been feeling sick or something, he hardly comes out of his room lately." wooyoung shrugged, assuming it was all good.

"if he's sick i'll bring him over some food and painkillers, maybe keep him some company." you explained, not wanting yeosang to be unwell.

"i think he'd rather be left alone, to be honest." san said, giving wooyoung a side glance that you couldn't miss.

you pulled out your phone and sent yeosang a quick message.

you: are you feeling okay? san and woo said you were sick :((

he didn't respond right away and you just figured he was asleep. but as you finished helping out at jongho's house a few hours later, he still hadn't responded. when you were sitting down to eat dinner at home, he still hadn't respond. just before you were going to turn the lights out and go to bed, he still hadn't responded.

something was up. this wasn't like yeosang, not anymore. not since the two of you had been spending so much time together. maybe it was like the boys said, and he was truly very sick, but in that case, why wouldn't they let you help?

————————

days passed and you went to work as usual, repeating the same few lines, asking people if they want a room, asking them to fill in a form, then directing them to the right room. days passed and you still hadn't heard back from yeosang, you wondered if he was still sick. days passed and you began to think maybe you should go over there to see if he's okay.

but if there was one thing you'd learnt about yeosang recently, it was that he was the quieter type, and probably wouldn't appreciate you going over there to keep him company and would rather be alone. so that evening when you got off work, you didn't go visit him like you so desperately wanted to, instead, you went straight home.

you cooked and ate dinner for yourself, before picking up your phone, only to see still no messages from yeosang.

you: hey woo you: is yeosang feeling better ?

wooyoung: yeah he is

you: well then can i come visit tomorrow ?

wooyoung: i think he's busy wooyoung: sorry

you: its okay woo you: its not your fault !!

you switched your phone off and headed for the shower, trying to wash away the stress and worry for yeosang that had built up over the last few weeks. you had really grown to like him and there was still so much about him you wanted to learn, like when he learned to skateboard or how he got the small scar on the back of his hand, that you'd noticed when ever he brushes his hair out of his eyes.

two years he'd spent, not interested in holding conversation with you and two years you'd spent, wondering what you'd did so wrong. but lately, you felt like you were doing something right around him, getting him to smile and laugh, share his own stories.

you couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he still didn't like you, and had just been trying for wooyoung's sake.

or maybe he was genuinely starting to like you, but you went and fucked it up by weirding him out and telling him about his starry eyes.

or maybe he'd just had enough of you already. decided that a few weeks was enough time spent trying to change things between the two of you.

as you finished showering and changed into comfortable clothes, you glanced at the clock which read 10:56pm. you switched on the television to watch some youtube before going to bed. as you felt yourself dozing off, a faint knock sounded at your door, so quiet you almost missed it.

when you opened the door, you were shocked to see yeosang standing there, leaning against the door frame for support. he looked up at you, his normally starry eyes were dulled with tears.

you rushed forward to him, smelling the alcohol as you got closer, "yeosang are you okay? what are you doing here? i thought you were sick. are you drunk? you never drink, come inside." you gently pulled him inside, closing the door behind you. when you turned to face him, he was staring at you, tears about to spill over the brim of his eyes.

"i hate you." he breathed out, voice barely louder than a whisper. he didn't seem angry though, he looked fragile, like a glass vase balancing on the edge of a table.

you felt the urge to cry, finally hearing those three words that confirmed your biggest concern, yeosang disliking you. "yeosang, i'm so sorry. i never meant to—"

"i hate you." he said, louder this time before running a hand through his hair hastily. he let out a frustrated groan, dragging his hands down his face. "i hate the tugging feeling in my heart whenever we're alone. i hate the way you put yourself before others. i hate the way you ramble on when you're nervous. i hate the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh. i hate the way i don't drink around you because i feel the need to protect you and make sure you're safe. i hate the way i tried to ignore you for two years because i was scared and confused about my own feelings. i hate how it only took one cup of coffee with you for my walls to come crashing down!" he paced from side to side, waving his hands around crazily.

yeosang looked scared and lost, like he'd never felt this way about anyone before, and that was the truth. he didn't know how to comprehend these feelings and it terrified him.

you watched as he spiralled, seeming as though it would never stop. you weren't sure what to do, so you just listened to that swelling feeling in your heart once again, the one that had led you to develop feelings for yeosang, and you pulled him close into your arms. he clung onto you tightly, scared to let go, like if he did then he'd lose you forever. you ran your fingers through his hair briefly, trying your best to comfort him.

"i'm sorry." you repeatedly whispered to him. you'd never meant to upset him or confuse him.

yeosang let out a quiet sob into your chest, "i hate the way i've fallen in love with you." he croaked out.

he didn't hate you. never did. never will. your heart swelled completely in your chest, feeling as though it would burst through. but it couldn't be true. he's totally drunk out of his mind.

"you're not in your right mind, yeosang, you need to get home. you're drunk and talking nonsense." you embraced him tightly one more time, and you could've sworn you felt the beat of his heart through the hug. "come on," you urged, steering him towards the door, "wooyoung and san are probably worried and waiting up for you."

with much effort, you led him down the stairs of your apartment block and walked him home. the street lamps led you in the freezing city night air. you held his wrist lightly, guiding him up the stairs to his own apartment. he didn't speak a single word the whole time, instead, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. it hurt you so much to see him this broken, but you knew he wasn't saying the truth under control of the alcohol in his veins.

you knocked at his apartment door, hoping that one of the boys were still awake. luckily, they both were and quickly they flung the door open.

"y/n? yeosang?" san questioned, his eyes wide open with disbelief.

"we've been so worried about you!" wooyoung said, pulling yeosang away from you. "hang on, are you drunk?"

san had noticed his tired, tear stained eyes, "you look like you've been crying! are you okay?"

you let out a quiet sigh, knowing you didn't need to be here anymore. you gave a small wave goodbye and headed home, utterly exhausted.

and though you were so drained, you couldn't seem to fall asleep. those words yeosang said to you kept running through your mind busily.

did he mean any of it?

————————

yeosang felt bad. he felt terrible. like he wanted to vanish into thin air and float away with the breeze. though he couldn't, no, he desperately wanted to apologise to you. but he didn't know how, he wasn't good with words or expressing his feelings, and you wished he knew that was something you loved about him.

wooyoung and san tried to ask him what happened the night he drunkenly confessed to you, but he couldn't have them know that he'd been harbouring feelings for you for all this time, they'd never let him live it down. he could imagine the continuous teasing they'd give him, nudging him whenever you were together or giving him side glances after talking to you.

yeosang gave it lots of thought. he mulled it over in his head repeatedly. it was only after hours spent hidden away in his room that he decided to go back to where it all started, a text. a text that said how much he wanted to make it up to you for having to deal with him drunk, just like the one you'd sent initially.

yeosang: hey y/n, i feel really bad about the other day, i wanna know how i can make it up to you! T^T

your heart leapt a mile seeing his name appear on your phone. you grinned upon reading his message, realising it was scarily similar to the message you had first sent him.

you: hmmm you: that sounds familiar

yeosang: >.< yeosang: seriously though, how does dinner at my place tomorrow night sound? i'll cook

you: you can cook?

yeosang: there's a lot you don't know about me x_x

you: okay, i'll be there !!

————————

yeosang wasn't lying when he said he can cook. as you traipsed up the stairs of his apartment block you could smell something delicious laced in the air.

the usual swelling in your heart had instead fell to the pit of your stomach, you were feeling slightly nervous as to what would happen when you entered yeosang's apartment. you inhaled deeply before knocking at the door of his apartment.

"hey y/n, come in." yeosang greeted, holding an arm out, signalling for you to come inside.

"you must've been working hard cooking! it smells delicious." you said, feeling a sense of comfort just from the smell of food.

"yeah, lucky i sent wooyoung and san over to jongho's place, otherwise i doubt there would be any pasta to serve." he joked. "you can take a seat, i've just gotta serve up."

you sat down in front of a neatly laid table, it had somewhat surprised you how much effort yeosang had put into this dinner tonight. he placed a steamy hot plate of pasta in front of you and one where he would sit.

"so." he began.

"so." you copied, teasingly.

"i guess, i really just wanted to say i'm sorry for how i behaved the other night when i was drunk. you shouldn't of had to deal with that." he frowned, poking at his dinner.

you furrowed your brows, "it's seriously fine yeosang." you took a bite of pasta, "i was just surprised to see you drunk, since you never drink."

he chuckled, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, "actually, i do. i just never drink when you're there."

"really? why?" you questioned, eating another mouthful of pasta.

"because..." he paused. "no, it sounds dumb out loud."

"it's okay, you don't have to explain yourself." you smiled warmly, "but that does remind me to ask... do you remember anything you said to me while you were drunk?" you leant forward, genuinely curious.

he sighed, "i remember.. enough."

"you don't really hate me, right?" you asked, playing with the food on your plate.

"of course not! that's why i invited you here tonight. to show you that i don't, and to make it up to you." he had to refrain from reaching across to hold your hand, just to show how much he cared that little bit more.

you nodded, "well, thats good. i was kinda worried that we'd gone back to square one."

comfort settled within you. it was relieving to know you weren't hated by the one person whose love you wanted most. a tiny thought crept into your mind, maybe, just maybe, now would be the right time to tell him about your blossoming feelings for him. or would that confuse him more? now you were the one feeling conflicted.

"are you finished eating?" he asked, reaching for your empty plate.

"yes, thank you! it was delicious. you're a good cook, y'know."

"ah, thanks y/n." he turned away to hide the blush appearing on his cheeks.

"would you like me to do the dishes? since you cooked." you offered, standing up. but he quickly opposed.

"don't be ridiculous." he shooed you back to your seat. "can i get you a coffee? water? wine?"

"a coffee sounds good, i think you and i have had too many drunken situations lately." you laughed.

yeosang pulled out two mugs and put the kettle on. he felt your eyes carefully watching him. once again, he hated the feeling that was pulling at his heart. the way you could say nothing, yet he felt everything.

"can i tell you something?" you asked, voice now quieter and more hesitant.

"sure, what is it?" he said, placing a warm cup of coffee in front of you.

you took a sip, humming in delight. it was exactly the way you liked it. when the two of you went out for coffee, he had unintentionally remembered just the way you like it.

"well," you began cautiously, in case you brought this situation into flames again. "i just... i always wondered why you didn't like me. if i was doing something wrong, if i said something once that really upset you. and then after we started spending time together, i finally felt like i was doing the right thing." you groaned, frustrated with yourself for not getting to the point quicker. "what i'm trying to say is that i have feelings for you. it's okay if you don't feel the same way. i wouldn't expect you to, i just thought you should know—"

yeosang basically choked on his coffee, eyes widening in shock. "it's okay, y/n! in case you hadn't noticed, i'm crazy about you."

you had continued to ramble nervously before hearing what he said.

"wait. you are?"

"basically ever since you said that thing about stars in my eyes, yes."

you cringed, remembering how you had said that so absent minded. "yeah, sorry about that."

"it's okay, it was cute. and what did i say about apologising?"

you shook your head and smiled, "i know."

————————

ever since the two of you confessed to each other, you had been almost inseparable, except of course when you had work. but he dropped you home most nights, even though you insisted it was okay and that you could walk. he came over every weekend just to spend time with you, even if the two of you just sat and talked, enjoying each other's company. you'd been dating for a few weeks now, but kept it undercover, not wanting to suffer the incessant questioning that would come if you told your friends.

it didn't go unnoticed either, wooyoung and san were constantly nagging yeosang about why the two of you spent so much time together, and each time he just shrugged it off.

christmas was just around the corner, so you were spending the evening at seonghwa's and hongjoong's house, who of course, were throwing an unnecessarily large house party to celebrate.

you were sat between a very drunk yunho and mingi, who were trying to talk to an also very drunk jongho. you eyed your boyfriend from across the room, as if asking for a way out and he just laughed at the situation you were stuck in.

after at least ten minutes more of having your ear talked off, yeosang came to pull you away to the dance floor.

"care to dance?" he asked, extending his hand to you.

you immediately jumped up, latching onto his hand, "i would love to!"

he chuckled, pulling you close to his side and leading you to the makeshift dance floor that seonghwa and hongjoong created.

the two of you laughed at the boys' reaction. they were completely shocked to see the two of you so close together and yeosang being friendly.

he twirled you around a few times with the music, before settling his arms around your waist. he brought you near to him as you placed your arms behind his neck. you swayed back and forth, engulfed in your own little bubble of comfort in each other's arms, completely out of time with the loud thumping music that blared around you.

you felt content, and yeosang no longer felt confused. he found his home in your arms and his happiness.

you reached up to place your lips on his, capturing the moment surrounding you. yeosang melted into the kiss, discovering that your lips were soft and sweet against his, just as he had imagined, which caused his knees to feel weak and his heart to skip more than just one beat. he never wanted to let you go, he wanted to compensate for every second that he didn't spend with you since the two of you met.

he leaned forward and whispered softly, just so you could hear above all the music and singing, "lets stay like this forever."

[quirklessidiot]

Title: pretty eyes [short story] Pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn!reader [soulmate au; takes place eight years before the yuuji and sukuna fusion] Genre: josei, romance, fluff, comedy, and your normal tragic angst!

Summary: in which the right eye is mine and the left eye is yours and when we meet for the first time, you see your own eyes staring back at you. Warnings: language, blood, minor manga spoilers, mild ooc gojo and death

Notes:  can we all just sit down admire satoru? Like the eyes man, the attitude omg... Ah im so sorry in advance  if hes ooc here sksksk it is my first time to write about any jjk characters and I havent fully grasped them yet despite reading the manga anyways i wont be online next week and tomorrow so i decided to publish this ahead of time. ily all and again thank you for the love and support, it does mean a lot *bows down* see you all again when i’ve got time? jskskss i fucking hate college and online classes, satoru save me please soulmate au’s [not read in any particular order nor are they connected, they just share the same trope]  Pretty eyes [gojo vers.] ||  lasting blues [toji vers]

tragic soulmate au series || taglist 

“Pretty.” were the very first words you uttered in complete awe as you saw yourself in the mirror and no, this wasn’t directed to your physical appearance. It was directed to your left eye, the eye of your soulmate.

Contrasting to your normal boring color on the right, your soulmate’s eyes were ethereal and unreal. How could someone have such pretty eyes? It was completely surreal at that point that you refused to believe that someone with these eyes were actually human.

You placed one hand and gently caressed the left side of your face where the pretty eye rested, “You must be an angel.” you muttered, “Only angels have pretty eyes.”

Thus      like every child     you gave your soulmate a nickname, ‘pretty angel’  and every night before you slept, you’d wonder out loud how your pretty angel was doing, if they were nearby, or anything like that. You wonder what type of food they like, do they like to leave the window open for a cool wind or do they like their chocolate hot or iced.

Yet as you grew older, the pretty angel faded out into your thoughts. The pretty idea of soulmates and love disappeared like the story books you read as a child. The pretty blue eyes on your left is forgotten as life takes a toll on you.

They say death was inevitable, when your mother died in middle school, you watch as your father’s left eye turn to your mother’s color. You watched as he clenched her hand, like it was some last resort of plea. You watched him cry as he passed by the mirrors and you wondered, would it hurt like that too?

It baffles you how beautiful and cruel the soulmate system was.

How every time your father would stare at his own reflection, his left eye would be nothing but a reminder of your dead mother.

You let out a second meek cough in the quiet bookstore that night, the sounds of the car passing by were nothing but quiet noise to you as you immerse yourself in the literature book you were reading, your students would surely love this one.You let out another cough as you turn around to find a small space to read since standing for too long made you tired too quickly. 

You’re too enchanted by the words of the author that you don’t even notice the rather tall man in front of you.

You look up, ready to give a quiet apology but stop short when you notice how ethereal the stranger looked. Albeit he wore a pair of weird Lennon shades at this time of night, he reminded you very much of an angel with his snow white hair.

You don’t even notice how your left eye is returning back to it’s normal color, the stranger does though and it surely was odd to see his eyes on a stranger.

“Well,” the stranger has a shit-eating grin decorating his handsome features, he definitely looked like trouble for sure, “This is unexpected.”

He lowers his shades and your eyes immediately widen as you suddenly cup the left side of your face, you’d recognize those unique eyes anywhere, after all, you had those on your left eye since you were born, “Y-You.” you muttered, the shock momentarily eating you up.

“Yeah, me.” He grins, loving the sudden attention, “Wow, I was expecting something like fireworks or flowers to appear.” He suddenly teased, bending down to your level.

Now that you notice it, he was very, very tall.

“I…” You blink, trying to gain your composure, “Wow…”

“Did I pass your expectations?” it’s been a few minutes since you started talking and all he has been doing is teasing you. 

“You do look like an angel.” You complimented and his eyes widened at the rather out-of-place compliment, “Your eyes are very pretty, thanks for letting me borrow them for twenty-two years.”

Gojo Satoru thought he had the upper-hand, after all, you looked quite meek but when you said those compliments, he was sure that you were going to be the teasing one in this whole-soulmate thing.

So he tries to one up you.

“I’m Satoru Gojo but you can call me tonight.” He grinned, trying to tease you once again, the corny pick up line sounds suave but your blank expression says otherwise.

“I’m Y/N L/N and  think I should call you in the morning, it is quite late right now and I still have classes at eight am.” You mumbled, looking down at your watch, “How about you just walk me home, then?”

“Okay.” Satoru immediately raises his hands, signaling that he was giving up, “First off, you should be more hyper aware that I may be a serial killer.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you a serial killer?” you repeat, “That would be awfully disappointing if my soulmate was one since I’d immediately give you up on the police. I’m not interested in being in a Bonnie and Clyde type of thing and I think it’s too early for me to die.”

“You’re very upfront about these sorts of things.”

“Well, you’re very teasing for someone who just met their soulmate a few minutes ago.” you shrug, “So, are you going to walk me home or not?”

“Ah, bossy too. I love the attitude already.”

“We’re spending our whole lives together. You might as well get used to it.”

You’d think the idea of soulmates would scare you after the firsthand experience with your parents but curiosity always got the best of you and the white-haired man proved that maybe it would be different this time.

Throughout the few months you’ve spent with him, You’ve noticed that Gojo Satoru and you may be alike in some ways but in most ways, he was different. 

First, he was enigmatic. You’ve known the man for a couple of months now and you’ve been going out on dates but you don’t know much about him except that like you, he’s a teacher at a good school and he tends to be conceited when he talks about his personal skills as a teacher.

“...What are you doing?” Satoru asked, peeking from behind your shoulder as you type in the grades of your student for your class.

“I’m grading my students.” You muttered, it was after dinner at your place and he was lazing around your place, the sound of faint jazz music could be heard throughout your small space and the wafting smell of freshly baked brownies filled the room, “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something since you're a teacher?”

Satoru quirks a brow as if you had said something odd then it seemed like realization had dawn upon him at that moment.

“Ah, I’m not doing much since my students are on break.”

“Didn’t you say that last time?”

Silence filled the room and Satoru breaks it off with his very famous ‘heh’ that made you inwardly roll your eyes and chunk the pillow that you’ve been hugging towards his direction, “Stop slacking off, you’re a teacher.” You scold him mildly, followed by a small cough.

“Ah, Y/N-chan. You’re so mean to me,” He frowned, handing you the mug filled with water, “...No fair.”

“You're a teacher and you’re slacking off.” You deadpanned, ignoring his sly ways of trying to get you in his arms, “How is that even fair?”

“My students can handle themselves so well that I don’t need to babysit them.” He hmphed,  arms crossed and head held up high in a rather arrogant manner. You could only only scoff back a reply at his rather haughty attitude but you’ve gotten used to it to the point where you just roll your eyes.

“You’re a very bad teacher, Satoru.” 

“Hey, I am considered one of the best and it’s an honor-”

You clicked your tongue and just pinched his cheek in reply to get him to stop drawling on about his achievements. You wondered if you dated a man child or something.

Second, despite his teasing nature and good looks, he’s a rather shy bean and has some insecurities about it too, maybe it was because there were moments where you couldn’t really understand your soulmate and his puzzling life. He didn’t tell and you didn’t want to pry because you technically both had your whole life to get around that subject.

Luckily, you seem to have found a remedy for moments like that.

“Satoru…” You called out to your soulmate who was staring at the nutrition content of the wafers on his hand, “Satoru!” 

“Oh, sorry. What were you talking about?” he finally snapped out of his daze and turned to you who was standing there, hand on your hip. The crispy wafers on his hand are long forgotten. 

Your soulmate is good looking, alright. If anyone were to pass by him they wouldn’t see the minor zilch of worry in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” You ask, walking closer to him, completely serious.

“...You aren’t going to leave me, right?” 

You raise a brow at the sudden question, wasn’t he too young to have some mid-life crisis? Was this because of the soulmate movie you watched late last night about the soulmate leaving their other half to rebel against the system and because of his partner’s family?

“Why would I leave you?”

He blinks once, then twice, the only sound that could be heard was the familiar music playing throughout the grocery store, it was as if no one was there during the mid-day. Satoru proceeds to look away, “I don’t know. What if you realize that you don’t like me as your soulmate and you followed what the dude did in the movie?” he started to mumble, mouth pressed on a straight line.

“Ah, the whole rich in-laws.” you blinked, “Don’t tell me you’re a son of some huge clan in japan that’s loaded and I’m going to be a disgrace to your family name or something?”

It came out as a joke at first, it really did and you were going to laugh but when you notice the straight face he has on, you realize it was anything but a joke.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, Oh.” 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking that question then?”

“What?” He almost half-yelled, eyes wide behind his usual shades that he seemed to wear a lot, “That doesn’t make sense!”

“Neither does your question, Satoru.” You frowned, massaging your temples, “I should be the one asking you that, are you going to leave me?”

“Of course not.” He sputters out.

“Then there goes my answer too.” You replied, huffing out as you grab the sweet wafers on his hand to put into the cart, “You’re very weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“No, you are.”

“You seriously asked me if I’d leave you because of your rich family in the middle of the day.” You deadpanned, inching closer to him to the point where your lips are brushing against his.

“This is unfair.” He huffed, suddenly turning red, “You’re attacking me in broad daylight.”

“Oh dear.” Your beguiling eyes, enjoying his rather embarrassed state, “This isn’t attacking, Satoru.”

Then you closed the distance between you two, his eyes seemed to widen behind his shades at your forward approach, clearly you guys never did PDA. You took this as an opportunity to lick his lower lip so you could slip your tongue in and as he starts getting into it and placing his hand to cup your ass, you pull away with a big smile on your lips, “That’s attacking.” you grinned.

Satoru seemed to have regained his senses quickly after that rather heated public make-out session, he placed his hand on top of his mouth and feigned embarrassment, “My, My, I didn’t think you’d enjoy those types of things in public.” he was back to his normal teasing self.

Well, that seemed to have worked very well.

“Mhm,” 

Yet unknown to you those thoughts still lingered in his head, it wasn’t just his family that he was worried about, it was also regarding his job as a jujutsu sorcerer       something he has yet to mention, he’s not even sure if you’d believe him       it’s a normal occurrence for people like him to die in this occupation and he’s scared that one day, you’ll see your left eye turning back to his eye color with no valid explanation.

Not only that but the amount of people who’d go after you to get to him, he clenched on the shopping cart tightly

“I’m tired.” You cut his thoughts short and Satoru turns to you, unlike him, you weren’t physically active so you tire easily, even joking around that you were a granny in a child’s body, “Can we sit down after this and get some gyudon?”

“Sure Y/N.” he grins, giving you a one-arm hug and kissing your temple.

Third, he’s terrible with kids, period, no questions asked. 

Your eyes narrowed to slits as he brought in one of his students named Megumi, the boy is quiet and compared to your giant and teasing soulmate, he’s serious. In fact he was more serious than the tiny pinky of the white-haired man.

“...Are you kidnapping a third grader?”

“He’s one of my students.”

“You don’t even know the first thing of looking after kids.” You pointed out, “And didn’t you mention that you teach high school students?”

“Well,” he drawled on, “It’s kind of a long story but he’s technically a genius.”

You let out a stifling sigh, “You’re impossible.” you mutter, bending down to the small boy’s level, “Would you like something to eat in compensation for him annoying you?”

The boy nods mutely.

“I wasn’t annoying him!” He corrects.

“He looks very annoyed standing next to you.”

“That’s literally what he looks like!”

You roll your eyes in reply and turn to the young boy, handing him a pastry that you had brought earlier. You  watched Megumi eat his pastry in front of the television that played some child-friendly show as you let out a soft cough and pour yourself some water

“Are you alright?” Satoru asks, resting his head on your shoulders.

“Yeah,” You replied, “Why’d you ask?”

“You’re looking quite pale these days.”

“Maybe it’s the allergy season, already.”  you nonchalantly replied, taking another gulp of water, “You’re terrible with kids, by the way.”

“That’s why I’m a high school teacher, Y/N.”

This connects you to your fourth observation, he’s nonchalant and easy going but he harbors a rather deep worry for you to the point where you wonder if he was really your soulmate or your mother incarnate. Three years into the whole soulmate thing with him, you still couldn’t help but think that he’s doting nature was quite adorable.

You feel like you’re coming down with a cold these days, your head has been throbbing and your cough is worsening. Satoru’s eyes are filled with nothing but worry as he handed you some medication. Your soulmate was now a mother hen and if it were different circumstances, you’d laugh it off.

“We should go to the doctor.” He nagged you once again.

“I’m literally going to sleep it off.” You hoarsely replied, “I’ll be fine, Satoru.”

“You literally sound like you smoked a pack with your voice, are you sure?”

“I am.” You glared, “Don’t sleep-”

Before you could even finish what you were saying, he flops right next to you in the bed, “-I literally told you to not sleep next to me.” you scolded him.

“A mere cold won’t phase me.”

“I swear to god, Gojo Satoru. I’ll kick you out.” He ignores your ministrations and snuggles his head on your neck, his warm breath tickling it, “You’re impossible.”

“You love me.”

“Sadly.”

“Hey.”

“I’m kidding.” you let out a quiet chuckle, looking down at your soulmate and running your hands through his white hair, “I love you very much, you idiot.”

“Hard same.”

“Never mind, I take it back.” you giggle.

And after a rather short playful banter between you two, you find yourself sleeping and snuggling on his long limbs. You think all is well, you really do. That was until you wake up later at three am in the morning with a loud coughing fit. Satoru immediately sits upright and opens your nightlight but what he sees next, scares him more than the curses he has ever encountered.

Your sheets are now stained in blood from the coughing fit that had just happened and you're completely taken aback too, completely breathless.

“Y-Y/N…” He gulps down, quickly taking the sheets away from you, “Let’s go to the hospital now, please?”

“...L/N-san, have you been getting coughing fits before this?” the doctor asks, looking up from your chart. Satoru watches you shake your head as you clench the paws of his jacket, the doctor takes off his glasses, “How about coughs that don’t seem to go away? Getting tired too easily?”

Satoru doesn’t like where this was going, he doesn’t like where this was going at all.

“Um, just some dry coughs and I’ve always been an inactive person.” You quietly replied, contrasting to your usual bright and teasing demeanor, you looked too tired this morning and Satoru just hopes it’s because he dragged you out of bed at four am to get yourself checked asap.

“Y/N-san, has any of your family members been diagnosed with lung cancer?”

The whole room is silent and you could almost hear a pin drop, Satoru feels his knuckles suddenly turn white, “I recalled my okaasan died because of that.” You replied silently and the doctor nods feverishly.

“...Y/N-san...It pains me to say this but the reason you’ve been experiencing this is because of the tumors located in your lungs.” Satoru feels his heart drop when he hears those words, “We have to do further tests to confirm-”

“Do it.” Satoru cuts the old doctor off, his hands are visibly shaking already, he hopes that this was just a misdiagnosis, that this doctor was just a bad one or better yet whatever excuse his mind could make up at that moment, “Do all the tests needed for Y/N, please.”

Fifth, he’s very supportive towards you and your impulsive decisions. If he could join you in it, he would but you usually decide against it.

It’s another quiet night for you as you sit across from your soulmate at the dinner table. You’ve grown awfully thin and your hair was starting to fall off due to the chemoradiation, this day marked the third month since you found out that you have lung cancer just like your mother. Surgery was apparently too risky so the safest option right now was this treatment. 

You don’t deny the anxiety eating you up every day, specifically the fear of death, you’re even more worried for Satoru since not only had he been paying for your treatment but he had opt to take care of you, saying that his job would be fine without him since you were going to get better soon anyways.

“Would you still love me if I shaved my hair?” You asked, your voice still quite hoarse.

“You kidding me? I’d still love you even if you turned into a roach.”

You immediately crinkle your nose in disgust, “That’s disgusting.”

“Honest reply.”

Truthfully, the man had been your rock these past three months. You knew how hard it was for him to be happy around you, how he had put on a brave front and remained positive saying that this was just going to be a rough couple of months and you’d be back in no time despite the bleak outlook.

It kept you sane amongst the tragedy.

“I wanna shave my hair.”

“Like right now?”

You nod, “Can we use your electric razor?”

“You want me.” he points to himself, “To cut your hair?”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.” You grinned.

And that’s how you ended up in your bathroom after dinner, Satoru’s shades on the side and his concentration directly on your scalp. You had literally told him that he just needed to do it the same way as he shaved his beard but he was still scared. Apparently, he had never shaved anyone’s hair before.

“...Okay, Y/N. Here goes…” He proclaimed, switching the razor on. As bits and pieces of your hair fall to the ground, you feel your cheeks getting wet and your shoulders tense, Satoru is quick to notice the switch of emotion and immediately turns the razor off before bending down in front of you, “Woah, woah… Y/N….”

“I-I…” Your lips are quivering as the tears fall faster when you see his pretty eyes staring back at yours, you try to let out a laugh but instead it comes out as a choke sob, “Sorry, this is stupid. I’m literally crying over fucking hair.”

“No, of course not…” He replies, enveloping you in a hug, “Of course not.”

Satoru feels you start to shake in his arms and he knows he should keep his emotions in check, he’s a sorcerer for crying out loud but seeing you break down for the first time in three months had him shaking too, you didn’t deserve all this, fuck, you didn’t deserve any of this at all!

“Would you like me to shave my hair so you’d feel a bit better?” he asks. After recovering from your breakdown, you had asked him to continue shaving your hair because you might as well be done with it.

“Please don’t.” You reply, wiping your tears away, “We’d look like eggs.”

“Cute eggs, you mean.” He corrects, teasing you and trying to cheer you up, this was all he could do and he hates it. 

He really hates it.

What good was the title of being the strongest when he couldn’t save you from all of this?

Lastly, if you hadn’t highlighted it enough. He has pretty eyes, contrasting to your dull and boring ones, you always loved how different his eyes are. Sometimes you wondered why he dared to hide them behind his crappy and overused Lennon shades.

“Can I see them?” 

Your room is dimly lit as Satoru sleeps next to you on the hospital bed, you were growing weaker and frailer by the day and you could see the toll it took on your soulmate. You were heavily reminded of your father who was sitting right next to your mother on her deathbed.

“See what?” He yawned.

“Your eyes.”

“You’re awfully in love with them, huh?” 

“I’ve always been in love with them from the moment I saw it in the mirror.”

Silence envelopes the room with your statement and as requested, he takes the shades off and now you’re greeted by the most beautiful blue eyes that you love to look at in the reflection since you were a child, “Pretty.” You muttered, raising your frail hands slowly to cup his face, “Pretty eyes.”

Satoru takes in a deep breath as he places his hand on top of yours, the silence is heavy. You both know what’s about to come in the next few days, you’re lucky if you even last a night. Yet he doesn’t want to talk about it, he shuts the topic off quickly when you try to even raise it.

“Yeah.” he mumbles, staring at you, “Pretty.”

You let out a quiet laugh, “I doubt it, I’m anything but pretty now.” your voice hoarse, making him lightly squeeze your hands, “Will you be bringing Megumi tomorrow?”

“Yeah, the brat said he saved enough money to get you your favorite pastry.”

“That’s good.” you blinked, “I’m tired.”

Satoru feels his shoulder tense at your words, they were so plain yet at the same time so heavy, “Should I call the doctor?” he asks. You shake your head and just snuggle on his chest.

“No,” You mumbled, inhaling his scent and basking on his presence, “I want your warmth next to me.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“You know, you’ve always had prettier eyes.”

Yet you don’t reply and he feels your grip on his sweater lessen, he doesn’t even need to see his reflection to know that his left eye has returned back to your (e/c) ones.

taglist [if crossed out, it means you aren’t available for tags!]

@airybnb​ ;  @hcn421​ ;  @shinhiromi​

[ferigrievance]

saw @/spacecaving’s post on things shes done as hermitcraft members so i made my own lmao

etho - can recite mutiple gtlive/game theory fnaf videos by heart

bdubs - slept for two days straight and didnt realize until after i had altered my calendar, planner n shit because i thought i had fucked up the dates

iskall - changes outfits frequently because of gender dysphoria. wears a full face of makeup almost every day

doc - got the first yellow and red card on my soccer level. the yellow was because i had asked an opponent to apologize to my team mate for running them over, then a red card for shooting the referee a thumbs up right after.

ren - was kin assigned jacob black. im allergic to dogs

grian - made a shirt that said wife haver and walked out my room and was confused why my parents were yelling at me. im gay

mumbo - accidentally stole like four different plants from two different parks n they are now growing in my room

scar - started a studyblr and was active for like a year, went on hiatus, came back and posted w the caption “im back from the dead” and then got locked out of the account

impulse - accidentally elbowed a friend in the face and knocked out two teeth that actually needed to be removed at the doctor later that day because they had startled me

tango - had a notebook with penises all over it for science class and justifed it saying that its science class and its just part of the human anatomy. a week later every single persons notebook had penises on it

keralis - studied russian for a year n a half. only remembers how to say egg (яйцо)

gem - has a pair of picture frame earrings that have rick astley on them. not a single person has noticed. ive had them for over a year

pearl - puts cheese, milk, whipping cream, butter and egg in my ramen. im lactose intolerant and allergic to egg

stress - has a small container from my grandpa, the only thing in it are two hands that are probably from a figurine of some kind but i dont. own any ??

cleo - saw emma langevin wearing teeth earrings and forgot that humans arent the only things with teeth, ended up making earrings out of my own teeth

false - forgot that i cosplay and left my wig head with a black wig still attached to it on top of a bookshelf thats across from my bedroom door. i also frequently has hallucinations of jack walten who has black hair and white skin , so i walked in room at three in the morning, saw the wig head, and started crying in the middle of the hallway

cub - was mistaken as my dads wife when i was 12

hypno - hid in the lost and found bin at the front of the history classroom during a shooting drill (?) and fell asleep. woke up the next day with teachers in the classroom having a meeting because there wasnt any class that day

jevin - won a raffle for a toy knockoff playdough at school, ate it in front of my class

joe - singlehandedly caused inflation at the kidzania near my house when i was like. eight

tfc - paid mcdonalds to work there for a week, ended up getting food poisoning

beef - was heavily sedated after getting teeth removed and wanted to have plain pasta at like 4am. tried to boil them and nearly burnt the house down. i thought i had cooked the pasta noodles and ate them raw

wels - had to write an essay on a important person at school, wrote it on gundahm tanaka and got a perfect score

xb - was building something out of legos when i was like six, i put a red two by two lego in between my teeth to hold and and ended up swallowing it

xisuma - kicked a toy car and hurt my ankle, decided that kicking a brick wall would make it better, ended up breaking my ankle

zedaph - dug up worms and ate them every day from the big potted tree beside the school bus while waiting for it to leave. ended up derooting the tree from four years of work and it was removed

[endlich-allein]

Interview with Till about his life: he fought with his father, killed his beloved dog, swam on a wild river and worked on suffering. How Till Lindemann's mind works

"I will finish you off" and why you fought for the German army.

Werner Lindemann wanders around the room, interrupting the silence with strange questions, writing something down. His motive is to get to know his son and make him a friend. But it's complicated. Generational conflict.

"My island of tranquility is shaken every day. The day before yesterday, a guy pulled on my socks because his were torn. Yesterday he didn't put out a single lamp in the house. Now, with voluptuous delight, he spits cherry pits into the cat's fur. Is this grown boy really an adult?"

The apprenticeship in Rostock, where you have to do window production after graduation, is the limit of boredom. Till Lindemann moved to his father in the countryside so that he could forget about the hustle and bustle of the city and not fall under the article for anti-social attitudes. He thought of a new life, in which there was no pointless work, and arranged an attic in his father's house.

In the mornings over coffee, he scolded life that everything went according to schedule. And listened very loudly to music - electronics and metal. My father didn't understand and grumbled: “I matured late. Naturally, I wanted to listen to the music I liked, but I could not get my hands on these records. For example, my father did not understand when I bought the Alice Cooper record for a month's salary.

Werner Lindemann was a children's writer who went through the war.

At the height of his career he disappeared for weeks on literary tours - his fame spread to teachers and librarians across the country. His father pecked at Lindemann for refusing to work and promised to turn him in:

"My willful child. What doesn't fit his standards is rejected as nonsense or crap." So he took a job as a carpenter, where he made shovel cuttings and cart wheels. The head foreman constantly drank vodka during the day, didn't want to be annoyed with questions and addressed the long-haired Lindemann with the nickname: "Mozart!" This suited him.

Werner Lindemann talked about war, hard existence and limitations. For example, about a grenade splinter that remained in his body. Lindemann did not believe in all these stories - but categorically did not accept service, war and murder:

“After that I objected: “I would hide, I would not go to war. Why did you even let yourself be dragged into this? You could have hidden."

And he said: “It didn't work out. They searched for it and it took away."

Then I said: “I would rather go under arrest. Never in my life, I would go to the front line to shoot people. It's against my nature. It would be better if I went to jail."

Much of the time father and son were simply silent, even while watching television.

"He regularly made me feel guilty, to say the least, he placed himself on a pedestal towards me: I shouldn't complain. At your age, I ran barefoot through the stubble, and in my stomach - a potato in a uniform."

The only acceptance is Mike Oldfield's music: "One day my father came to grumble again. At that moment I was listening to Mike Oldfield, and he sat down and said: "That sounds interesting."

For me it was like a quantum leap: my father sits in my room, listens to my music and thinks it was good. Probably because of melancholy. He was sitting in a rocking chair that I made myself - at the time I was working as a carpenter on a farm. I, too, always sat in an armchair, immersed myself in music and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes."

The conflict was intensified by a fight. Lindemann bought a Trabant car, installed speakers in it and tested the sound - loud as usual. “Then my father came and I had to turn off this fucking music. It was kind of loud for him. He was then fiddling around his cases of flowers, and then suddenly the situation escalated. I think he slapped me while I was still in the car.

He leaned toward me and hit me with the back of his hand. I made some bullshit remarks like, "Leave me alone," something like that. That was a provocation to him, and he said: "If you do that again, I'll hit you for real." And I said, "Then you'll get it back. Because you're crazy. Don't you dare to hit me anymore."

And then he hit me with his palm again. He wasn't controlling himself.

He was exalting himself. Instantly he introduced himself as a boxer - he had boxed in the Hitler Youth - and I just... I thought I didn't hit him, I just pushed him away. And then he stood in front of me again, "Come on, I'll finish you, you haven't got a chance!" Somehow. After that, he went up to the attic and threw all my stuff out the window.

It happened over the weekend, my sister was there, a lot of screaming, serious drama. Then I packed my things, put them in the car, went to a friend's house and never went into his house again. At first I lived with this friend, and a week later I bought myself a house in the village."

His father's book is about his son, which the son will only open up after the death of the father.

Lindemann is a late child. He was born when his father was 36. The gap in their relationship was felt in everyday life and perception of the world. Werner Lindemann woke up early in the morning, worked with the circular saw under the windows and did not understand when his son slept until noon after a working week.

Lindemann's parents then lived separately, but kept in touch. Mom worked as a journalist and discussed her texts with his father. "She still lived in Rostock and always came to see him only on weekends. Mostly on Sundays she came back quite early, because she couldn't stand the stress of being with him, either."

In 1988, the book “Mike Oldfield im Schaukelstuhl Notizen eines Vaters" In this book, Lindemann Senior describes the relationship with his son (whom he calls Timm in the book), who settled with him at the age of 18. The book was written in the 80s and laid on the table until the German Democratic Republic and the Federal Republic of Germany were reunited.

Werner Lindemann wanted his son to take up writing too. But this only amused him, although as a child he wrote poetry. At the age of 13, little Till Lindemann and his father were returning home along the bumpy road to Mecklenburg. They talked about career self-determination:

"You should already have thoughts about what you want to become, boy." My answer: "I don't know yet, maybe a fisherman on the high seas."

But immediately, no matter what I said, objections arose: “But then you have to get a certificate of maturity. But then you will be away all the time. But then you won't be able to start a relationship."

There was always a “but”.

At some point it got on my nerves, as usual. And I said: "Worst case scenario, I'll just become a writer.

I still remember how alienated his face became. "And what do you think then, what do I do! It's a very hard job! In fact, it's not even a job, it's a passion. And it's a job that's supposed to be enjoyable."

I said, "I don't know anybody who works with pleasure."

"Yeah, that's the problem. You have to look for a job that gives you pleasure." Then I say again, "But some people never get to choose..." This gigantic discussion happened because I didn't take his profession seriously. At the same time, he was completely lost, funny!"

Lindemann thoughtfully read his father's book, in which he comprehends their relationship, after his death. Faked for hidden anger and indecision. For example, in a situation where their dog Kurt was bitten by a fox. The father was frightened because of rabies: “At the same time, we did not even know whether he was bitten by a fox or not. The father immediately called the huntsman. But I said: no one will enter this courtyard and shoot the dog. I'll do it myself if I really need it. At some point I really had to kill the dog."

Lindemann is not a monster. The animals he fiddled with are an important attribute of childhood. He had an aquarium and hamsters, brought mice and rats home, and was friends with dogs. “Like many children of new buildings, he felt the need for someone alive, in need of love,” said Werner Lindemann. Sometimes the appearance of an animal in the house was surprising:

“This guy will never say what he's up to. He appears on the doorstep at the same time as me. He gets out from his vehicle, throws his coat open and puts a young black shepherd in my hands. "Your Christmas present!"

Till's father is speechless. My son stands before me like the sun's little brother. Touchingly concerned, he directs me into the house, working out a plan for the animal husbandry, accommodation and diet of our new pet housemate.

With confusion, a question flies from my lips, "Wheredid you get the dog from?" "Timm" is gibbering, "Imagine, the mason in the barnyard wanted to hang him, simply wanted to strangle him with a rope, said he was a worthless eater..."

Werner Lindemann died of stomach cancer in 1993, when his son was 30. They didn't finally reconcile, but Till visited him in his last days and was there for him with his mother: "They couldn't be without each other, even though they lived apart. Unreal, but my mother never had another man afterwards. To this day she can't let go of him."

- Not going to the Olympics in Moscow and ending up in the German ghetto

Lindemann had the knowledge and the potential to be a swimmer. And a shyness that pounded harder three days before the competition than concerts in front of crowds of thousands. "I know how difficult it is to develop willpower and stamina and instill those attributes. In the GDR this was instilled in us by coaches and so-called functionaries."

Lindemann came to swimming at the age of eight and devoted his entire youth to the sport. He would get up for training at five in the morning and pass out in the evening. His grandmother watched him from the stands. At a competition in Leipzig she shouted at the coach, who told Lindemann off for a poor result. The grandmother took the coach by the ear and said: "How do you talk to my grandson?"

Sports tightened up his upbringing and developed self-discipline. “Drilling - probably the boy has already received this experience as a swimmer,” Lindemann's father wrote. - Once he had to take second place in a competition, but by no means first place. Of course, he got carried away, forgot about it, became the first, thanks to which he received a shouting for indiscipline. And whenever he lost in the future, his coach would torture him at practice for a long time and yelled at him: "Even if you win, you're not a winner yet!"

Lindemann swam the 1.5 km freestyle and could have gone to the 1980 Olympics in Moscow. Everything was ruined when he left the hotel without permission during a competition in Florence: "I didn't want to run, but just wanted to look at the city. Cars, bikes, girls. I was caught and kicked out of the team, but then I didn't give the required results either."

Lindemann competed at the European Junior Championships, but did not go any higher. After the story in Florence, his career in sport slipped away. Perhaps an abdominal injury influenced his departure. Lindemann is gone, but he doesn't yearn: "I was relatively young. There were no good [memories] left. I was glad it was over."

"The hardest part was getting back to normal. I fell into a real hole. My home was no longer a sports school, but a ghetto in Rostock. Now I stood out through drinking and fighting. I used to be surrounded only by beautiful ladies who were interested in swimming. Now I had fierce women standing in front of me asking, "How come you don't drink?" When I was shy about approaching a girl, it was interpreted as: "Are you gay?"

Lindemann now works with a coach and swims a few kilometers before his tours to get in shape: "When I exercise, I feel a certain lightness - not only physically, but also mentally. I just feel better. The main problem is staying in shape. That's where self-discipline comes into play. Teeth grinding is important."

- Three weeks in the wild and loneliness as a creative tool

Emotionally, concerts = sports:

"How do I go on tour? Hungry. And happy. It is good to compare concerts with sport. You don't want to do both at first. You don't want to go on stage. You don't want to go to the pool. You don't want to go to the boxing ring. It all happens with reluctance. It has to be accepted somehow, that's life: spring, summer, fall, winter.

When it's done, winter's gone, the blooming begins, greenery appears, it gets bright, and you start to get a taste for it. When it's over, you feel happy. Then the body produces a sea of chemistry, a lot of happiness hormones. I think the body rewards itself."

The stage, like sports, is an embarrassment, but a necessity. Lindemann wore dark glasses in order to collect fewer views from the audience. Therefore, a couple of steps before the water, he looked at the pool with a shiver. You need to cope with yourself in order to open up to new emotions.

Lindemann's gut requires solitude and moderate solitude. This is the point:

“Loneliness is always good for a creative push - you drink a glass of wine and you feel even shitier. Art is not complete without suffering; art exists to compensate for suffering."

With his friend Joey Kelly, Lindemann spent three weeks on the Yukon River. They paddled through the wilderness in a kayak for eight to 10 hours each and lived in a tent. Lindemann didn't take a tape recorder with him, so he transferred the lyrics wandering in his head on paper.

They were catching inspiration and atmosphere:

"There were times when we wouldn't say a word for hours, but then: look there, look there! It was breathtakingly beautiful. These relatively fast-changing panoramas and skies, layers of clouds, the colors.

Except for a few bears and wolves, it's hard to see anyone else out there, it's exhilarating. Along the way we saw two hunters setting traps. No one else.

I grew up in the countryside, and I have a very strong connection to nature. I love fishing, hunting. It's an archaic experience that I like to revisit over and over again. When I'm in the city for too long, I start to miss it."

To recreate situations in the Yukon, Lindemann and Kelly trained for nine months on the Rhine river in Germany because of its liveliness.

"We went down the Rhine to where the transport ships create huge bow waves. If we hadn't had a coach with us, we probably would have been sunk by the side wave impact already during our first attempt," Lindemann said.

Together with Kelly, he had four sessions with two coaches and swam from Cologne to Koblenz [more than 100 kilometers by car]. Lindemann trained separately each week on the lakes in Mecklenburg. It's both physically challenging and savage identical to being natural.

In 2015, Till started his solo project Lindemann. On the album Skills In Pills, the song Yukon was released, in which the lyrics appeared first, and then the music.

- "My lyrics come from pain rather than desire."

The country boy is big and not much of a talker. That's how the Rammstein members saw him at the start, when they were hanging out at home. "He looked cool, like a big peasant talking one sentence an hour," keyboard player Christian "Flake" Lorenz recalled. - He always had food and vodka. He'd just steal a couple of ducks somewhere and cook them on a tray. And then, frozen like in Sleeping Beauty, there were people lying in corners and on trunks in his house."

Lindemann loves and appreciates home gatherings. This came from my father, who always had guests. “In my opinion, this is the little bit that I inherited from him. Throwing parties and gathering people. Throwing parties and getting people together. He just enjoyed being a good host. The house was always full of guests from Leipzig, from Rostock, foreign guests, even from Kazakhstan.

It was always exciting for him. He stood at the stove, cooked, bought an abundance of wine, and there was always a fire in the garden. At some point he stopped drinking, then he left the party at 21:00 and the whole company continued to feast. And in the morning he got up at four, cleaned and tidied up."

Till Lindemann is about self-digging, overcoming and childish shyness, which is covered by a pumped-up figure of a swimmer. This is how Lindemann decrypts himself:

• “And I really am like a big child - ill-mannered, but harmless. People think that I am always strong, explosive. This is not true. I am sensitive and easily hurt, but in love I am romantic and passionate."

• “At the very beginning, you sit somewhere in a dark room, open a bottle of wine and figure out how to make the lyrics popular with the music. At first you only have a vague idea of ​​what it could be.

And when, three years after recording, mixing, and more mixing, developing the artwork, all this nonsense, then you stand on stage, and what you came up with then really works, when you manage to get 20 thousand people to raise their hands, then you experience incredible sensations."

• “Art is a kind of therapy.

When I feel that something is arising inside me, domineering and is most often dark, I need to give it a way out, otherwise it will simply crush me. So destruction and self-destruction are the two pillars on which my creativity is based.

But everyone chooses this for himself.

• “My lyrics arise from feelings and dreams, but still more from pain than by desire. I often have nightmares, and I wake up at night sweating, as I see terrible bloody scenes in my dreams. My lyrics are a kind of valve for the lava of feelings in my soul.

We are all struggling to hide behind good manners and outward decency, but in fact we are governed by instincts and feelings: hunger, thirst, horror, hatred, the desire for power and sex. Of course, there is also additional energy in us - this is love. Without it, all human feelings would fade away."

- "When you're constantly living someone else's life, it's very hard to get back into your own skin. I like that in principle, but sometimes you start to get confused - are you out of a role or not yet. You're already Till, or you're still a homicidal maniac."

- "I hate the noise. I hate the chatter. I expose myself to it, which is pure masochism. And then I have to protect myself from it. Noise makes you crazy. You die in it."

• “I think there is no God. And if he is and actually allows all the misfortunes on this earth, then he must punish me along with other sufferings. I will not pray to such a god."

This is how the members of Rammstein see Till - flexible and with a split personality:

Guitarist Paul Landers: "Till is so good that when you let him know that his lyrics should go in a different direction, the very next day he brings a new version of the song."

Guitarist Richard Kruspe: “He's a hell of an extreme man. He dives very deeply into situations where I cannot follow him. Everything he does is very extreme; I don't know anyone who does it. "

Drummer Christoph Schneider: "I would not want to be in Till's shoes: his soul is tormented by doubts and contradictions, he is equally a moralist and a monster."

June 1, 2021 - Translate by Lindemann Belgium

[knockknockchicagopd]

❛ GIFT HORSE ❜

��❙ REQUEST BY @lolanotherhoplessromantic: hey babe! i hope you’re doing well! can i request an imagine where Hank and the reader are in the car and the reader is singing loudly 😭. im listening to finesse by Bryson Tiller LOL. He says “i want my babies to have your eyes”. how would hank react to this! (You can pick if she’s actually a good singer or not haha)

❚❙ HANK VOIGHT MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 300.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to the author.

❚❙ General tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @destynelseclipsa @miahelen @jadakiss13 @mcgreads @graniairish @teller258316 @i-love-scott-mccall @tclaerh. Hank Voight tag list: @sophie-writes. If you wanna be added to my tag list, send me a message! ⚡

The main thing Hank hates about letting you drive is that you choose the music. While he prefers to listen to the radio, you prefer to connect Spotify and play your own lists. The problem comes when he has to deal with the change in music styles. One song is by AC/DC and the next one is Lewis Capaldi. Then, it jumps to J Balvin and goes back to The Score. It drives him insane, mostly being at eight in the morning stuck in traffic on your way to the Station. He loves to hear you singing but in your house.

He's trying to focus on reading some emails on his phone when you palm his thigh, with too much excitement, as soon as Finesse by Bryson Tiller starts to play through the speakers. Hank tilts his frowned eyebrows towards you, noticeably annoyed.

“I want my babies to have your eyes”. You sing almost dancing on your seat, more cheerful than him until he hears the full sentence.

Your husband has to press his lips strongly to not show you the smile it has provoked on him, making you loudly laugh. You know to perfection how to switch his bad mood and this is one of your ways. He can't hide it anymore, as he sees you continue dancing, singing, and palming the wheel; uttering a strong giggle when you hit the button accidentally and the police sirens get activated, drawing an ashamed gesture on your face as people start to pull up their cars apart to give you enough space to drive through.

“You're a piece of work, sweetheart”.

“Didn't make it on purpose, but… gift horse, Sergeant”.

[infinites-chaser]

Librarian! PH. 52 MLQC MC / Victor :)

HELLO ANON U WERE ONE OF THE FIRST PEOPLE TO RESPOND TO MY LIBRARIAN ASK GAME I’M SO SORRY IT’S TAKEN SO LONG,,, victor is just. hard to write. aLSO I'm doubly sorry since i’ll be combining this with the Victor ask from @truth-be-told-im-lying ​ hope neither of you mind T-T i don’t think my mind could do two victor ficlets akwlfjsdkls

ANyway I love you both LOTS AND LOTS hopefully this attempt at Victor isn’t extremely out of character;;; it’s a lowkey soulmates AU if that counts for anything :> aND this fic gets the special treatment of an actual Title bc True was wonderful enough to help me by typing Victor as an Enneagram Type One

okaaay and without further ado, 

49, 52 + Victor/MC

‘[He] wakes up in [his] bed, determined to begin again.’- These Ghosts Are Family, Maisy Card. (pg. 49)

‘As [he] pushes through the onlookers to meet [her], he is certain he is the only person moving.’- These Ghosts Are Family, Maisy Card. (pg. 52)

((pronoun changes in both quotes to better fit the ficlet))

spoilers for Victor/MC’s childhood!

spend my whole life searching

Victor doesn’t believe in soulmates. (After half a lifetime of searching turning up nothing, he doesn’t believe in much.)

Once upon a time, he might’ve. (He wanted to). His heart rate doubled and sped up to match hers— a carefree little girl skipping across the road, too far away to hear his nerves cry danger, too caught up in dreams and fantasies to hear his warning shout. Time slowed down so he could save her, and on that afternoon on the crosswalk, drops of rain suspended in the air, he did.

At that age, he hadn’t had the sense to wonder why a young girl like her had been crossing the street without supervision. Why her smiles had come freely, but had always looked a little sad, a little wistful. Why she’d been so eager to accept his baked treats. Why she’d been at the playground without a parent. Why she’d always been alone.

Now, seventeen years later, he wishes he did. Wishes he’d known something as simple as her last name.

He dreams of her. Of finding her again: the girl whose heartbeat matched his. The girl whose smile had slowed down time itself for him, as if short moments with her could’ve each stretched into a gentle eternity. He’d wanted them to. He’d wanted to capture every moment spent with her, to make them last, to savor them, so they’d pass slow and sweet like honey on the tongue.

Time had passed slow when he’d wanted it to. Those sunlit afternoons had been sweet, they’d been happy.

Only, time is a fickle thing. When he takes his eye off it, it races away, too fast for him to keep up.

The kidnapping. The experiments. The torture.

The escape.

She saves him. He’s too slow to save her.

And even if he can stop time, here’s the thing: he can never turn the clock back.

Still, he wakes up. Every morning, he gets out of bed. Gets dressed and goes to work. The world around him moves on, and demands he does, too, even if his heart’s still eleven years old and clutching her motionless body, eleven years old, the only sound in his ears his pounding pulse, the absence of the accompaniment of hers an accusation more painful than any hateful words.

It’s a recurring theme in his life, time. It’s ironic, really, when he thinks about it. That he can stop time without lifting a finger, and yet, when it comes to things he cares about, people he loves most, he’s always eleven years old again, always too late.

(His Evol’s time control, but perhaps, all this time, he hasn’t been controlling time, it’s been controlling him. He’s imprisoned by a single moment, a memory, a regret. A past that can never be undone.)

Whenever he has spare time, he devotes himself to searching. Resigns himself to the fact he’ll probably never find her, if all he has to go off of is a child’s face, once preserved in his memory, now fading. Hair color. Eye color. Age. A name. Nothing more.

The searches turn up nothing. 

He spends late nights in the office to distract himself, builds up a capitalist kingdom of a company, if only to put off for a few hours more the prospect of returning home to face his nightmares alone.

His father praises him for LFG’s growth over dinners filled with awkward silences. The name Victor Li appears more and more often in business newspapers. Investors approach him. He gets interviews. Gets offers for TV appearances, for sponsorships.

He takes them, these material successes. Wonders if any amount of them could ever make up for the failure from his childhood. If they could bring her back. He tells himself if he finds her, when he finds her, when he brings her back, it’ll be to a more perfect world. One in which he’ll never fail her again. It’s a foolish thought, but it keeps him going. With it in mind, he proceeds to work twice as hard.

Souvenir is what saves him. A small allowance, a self-indulgence, a seed of hope planted in what he thinks is his darkest time.

It’s for her, more than any of his frantic searching ever was. A dream, a foolish one, that one day she’ll step through his memories and through the restaurant’s door, that one day they’ll share a pudding together again, their hearts beating as one.

He doesn’t get to open Souvenir often; his job doesn't let him. He made sure of that, long ago. But when he does, after the last customer’s left, and he’s put up the closed sign, he cooks for two.

(The first time, Mr. Mills had taken a single look at his silent, still face, and his expression must've spoken volumes. The older man hadn't said a word, only helped clean the kitchen after, the normally gentle lines around his mouth pulled taut in a worried frown.)

He sets the second place at the table himself: carefully places fork, knife and spoon beside lukewarm appetizers, tucks a napkin under soup bowls going cold. Watches the empty seat and the untouched meal for an eternity before finally eating his own. His technique's impeccable. It has been ever since he'd aced his culinary lessons, since he'd bought out the school. He'd used the finest ingredients. He always does.

The food still crumbles like ash in his mouth. (It always does.)

Mr. Mills will find him there, nursing a glass of wine long into the night. He knows better not to question it, but sometimes he'll pull up a chair, drink a glass, too. talk of everything and nothing, talk of his parents, his sister's family, of times gone by.

Victor will never admit it, but the older man's presence makes those nights less hard. his stories, his memories — they keep the ice in his heart from spreading any further when it feels like nothing else will.

Ten years stretch into thirteen, into fourteen, into fifteen, into a broken clock, time stopped because does the passage of time mean anything if he measures it, measured it in time with her? If she's gone?

The meals shrink. First appetizers vanish, then entrees too, until all that's left are desserts, puddings that he stares at all evening, puddings a girl had loved once, that he can almost imagine her sitting there eating, her noticing him watching her and her answering blush and smile. His smile back.

Almost, because after all these years without her, he can’t quite imagine her face. Not as she would look now. Not even as she was, seventeen years back.

(He dreams and finds he doesn’t remember what her smile looked like, exactly. Doesn’t remember the sound of her heartbeat mingling with the sound of his.

Memory is cruel. Memory is imperfect. No matter if you can stop time, no matter how hard you try to memorize a moment, when you revisit it, it’ll never be the same as when you lived it the first time.)

Then:

The day starts like any other. He wakes up, gets out of bed, gets ready for another day of work, another night of searching. He scrolls emails while waiting for his espresso machine to heat, then puts his tablet aside when the coffee's done. He eats in silence. As always, he's done five minutes before he needs to leave for the company, the perfect amount of time for him to do a last-minute check in the mirror— his tie's straight, his shirt unwrinkled, not a hair on his head out of place. The reflection that stares back at him is unchanging; these days it barely shows even the passage of time.

He sighs. Shakes the thought off like the piece of lint it is on his otherwise immaculate state of being, and heads for the door, the lock automatically clicking behind him at eight o'clock am, exactly on schedule, exactly as planned.

He's about to take a seat in his car when an inexplicable urge to walk to work takes hold of him. He pauses. Calculates and re-calculates the time it would take (fifteen minutes, not accounting for rush hour traffic making crosswalks slow), and he's about to decide it's not worth it, it's a silly thought, but the urge intensifies.

Do it, the eleven-year-old in his heart seems to be telling him. You won't regret it.

He frowns and rubs his forehead— for a moment, he wonders if all his searching, all his foolish hopes are finally getting to his brain.

He decides to take the walk, anyway.

He regrets it, not nine minutes later, when despite the sun's light shining strong through the clouds, a light rain begins to fall.

Worse still, the traffic lights haven't changed once in the past ninety seconds. He won't be late, he'd accounted for this, but he's stuck in a crowd of pedestrians, and their chatter's beginning to grate on his nerves. He's considering calling the mayor about it after exactly one hundred seconds have passed— clearly, the light's broken, this is far too long for commuters to wait— but then, finally the walk sign flicks on.

He's already across the street when it happens:

First, a phone rings.

Then, the loud honking of a car.

Tires screech.

Time slows. Time stops.

He's back on the crosswalk in a matter of heartbeats, the inattentive idiot in his arms (it's a girl, it's always a girl, hair dark, eyes wide, expression shocked).

"You..." She says, blinking up at him with those wide, almost-familiar eyes. Distantly, he registers the echo of a heartbeat overlapping with his.

"Who are you?"

Who are you? His mind asks, but deep in his heart, he already knows the answer. It can't be.

"Evolver?" He says instead, shoving down memories that threaten to surface: another rainy day, another crosswalk, another heart that had seemed matched to his. He tells himself he's being delusional, that he thinks he can hear her heartbeat because she's in his arms, wide-eyed and fragile, her heartrate skittering back and forth like a fool— this isn't like his careful, methodical searching, this is a fluke beyond flukes, it means nothing, it'll lead to nothing in the end.

But she's in his arms, warm and soft against his protective embrace, she's in his arms and it feels so right it's almost painful, his pulse pulled into a panicked pace to match hers.

He sets her down abruptly, as if burned, and turns to go.

"Someone can't come to your rescue every time."

Around them, suspended raindrops begin to fall. The world, resumed. The world, once again predictable and mundane. Except for her.

He knows, without looking back, she's staring after him, her heart, his heart, still racing.

He allows himself a smile.

He allows himself some small sliver of hope.

(His frozen time starts moving again.)

[topsytervy]

Hello ~ Rafe Cameron

This is Part 2 to Goodbye cause I had the thought in my head and I didn't want to write it only for it to sit in my docs so you can read Goodbye (aka Part 1) here.

Blurb: A lot can change in five years.

Word Count: 3,677

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, smoking, cocaine, spelling/grammar mistakes, i think that's it.

Small note: I’m 19 and have never planned a wedding. I’ve been to my fair share of weddings as guests and my only experience with a wedding would have been when my sister got married, however, her in-laws are kind of assholes so her wedding was really lowkey and shit, like it took place in my sister backyard lowkey, cause her mother-in-law was like 'Im not paying for anything cause you guys wont last but I'll pay for your sisters weddings' so like I’m winging half of this shit if not most of it. I’m sorry.

~~~~~

It was 5 years later.

You were 21, along with the rest of the pogues, and able to legally drink and purchase alcohol. So no more hassle with a fake ID.

Nothing had changed except for college and jobs. You and JJ had broken up after two years of dating and, much to everyone's surprise, it was like nothing had ever happened between you two.

It was insanely easy to slip back into the friend zone with JJ, despite both of you thinking that it would be awkward. Both of you fell back into old habits fairly quickly. Sure there were the first couple of weeks where you two felt as if you had to force normality but after that, it was like nothing happened. Sure, JJ still called you princess and you still found yourself hiding into his side during scary movies, but those were habits you two had prior to dating, and old habits die hard.

The only other difference was that John B and Sarah were getting married.

They were planning on getting married at The Lodge at Bear River in fall which meant a ferry to the mainland and then an almost 8-hour road trip to the venue. 

You, Kie, and Wheezie were bridesmaids, Kie being maid of honor, and Pope, JJ, and much to John B's displeasure, Rafe were groomsmen, JJ being best man. 

You and Pope were walking together which left Rafe and his half-sister to walk together. 

Rafe looked at his sister and John B, trying to stay as unphased as possible. "Y/N's gonna be a part of the wedding party?" He asked, taking a drag from his cigarette from his spot by the pool. 

John B and Sarah were outside at the patio table with their wedding planner, going over guests and the wedding party. The three looked over at Rafe and Sarah nodded.

"Why wouldn't she?"

"No reason. If you need someone to walk with her, I'll do it." He told her as nonchalantly as possible. 

"She's walking with Pope." John B responded. Rafe made a face as he brought the cigarette back up to his lips and John B narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is there a problem?" Sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"No. No problem. It's your wedding."

John B rolled his eyes before turning back to the wedding planner. 

Rafe stood up and walked inside, flipping John B the bird as he walked by. He felt as if John B was put on this earth just to make him miserable at this point.

Rafe walked over to the bar and fixed himself a drink, Wheezie rolling her eyes from her spot on the couch in between Rose and Ward, who were currently scrolling through formal wear for the wedding. 

"Dad, Rafe's day drinking... again." The now eighteen-year-old piped up.

Rafe glared at her. "Just wait Wheezie. This will be you in a few years." He told his half-sister with a smirk.

Wheezie scrunched up her face in disgust at the sight of her brother holding his cigarette in one hand and drink in the other.

Rose, a glass of wine in her hand, rolled her eyes at her stepson as Ward, a gin and tonic in his hand, just sighed. "It's five o'clock somewhere, Wheezie." 

Rafe clinked his glass against his father’s as he made his way upstairs to his old room that he was temporarily staying in since his apartment building had taken some damage during the latest hurricane and was currently getting the necessary repairs done, and closed the door behind him. He sat down at his old desk chair and looked at the corkboard above the desk where a couple of polaroid pictures of you hung. The pictures were the first thing Rafe went looking for when he had gotten back to his apartment, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw the little lockbox he had stored the polaroids still in the closet and completely unscathed. Rafe downed his drink as he swiveled his chair back and forth. 

Of course, John B wouldn't pair you and him up. That would be helping a brother out. Rafe did everything he could to show that he changed once he heard you and JJ broke up.

 He quit cocaine and took up cigarettes instead. He went back to college and got a business degree. He was currently working and getting along with his father. He had his life together, mostly, and on track. The only thing missing from his life was you.

He had barely spent more than 5 minutes in a room with you since the breakup because you were either by JJ or you retreated as far from him as possible. He'd casually bring you up in conversation with John B and your friend would just roll his eyes. 

"We don't bring you up in conversations, Rafe." John B told him one day.

That cut the blue-eyed man deep.

Especially since this was after Rafe gave John B the money he needed to buy Sarah an engagement ring. 

Some wingman John B was.

Rafe stood up with a sigh and walked downstairs, deciding to bring the entire bottle of whiskey upstairs since he could already tell it was going to be one of those nights. He halted by the patio door though when he heard his sister and John B start talking.

“Would it be that bad to pair Rafe and Y/N up for the wedding? I highly doubt Wheezie wants to walk with him. At least Y/N won’t whine about it.” She asked as she placed a hand on his arm, the wedding planner nowhere in sight.

Rafe leaned against the wall, biting his lip as he waited for John B’s answer. If Rafe was being honest, he was kind of surprised that his sister would even consider asking John B that since she could care less about what Rafe wanted.

“Sarah, I love you but you did not see her that day or the day after or the following month and a half after that. Do you know how hard it was seeing Y/N like that? Heartbroken. Not wanting to get out of bed. Thinking she did the wrong thing and that caused him to go over the edge. Do you know how many times JJ, Pope, Kie and I caught her reading the obituaries to make sure Rafe’s name wasn’t in there?” John B looked at his fiancée. “I’m not pairing them up together without her permission. That’s that.”

“Then ask her.”

"What?" 

"Ask Y/N if she wants to walk with Rafe?" Sarah saw the 'are you kidding' look in John B's eyes. "I'm serious John B. Rafe's changed a lot and, despite what you think, you cannot keep her from talking or seeing my brother all your life."

"I can try." The curly-haired boy stated, crossing his arms.

"You know what, JB? You are acting like a damn child. It is not going to break Y/N/N if you ask her one small question that contains the name Rafe, okay? I'm sure she can hear his name and not break down or something. It's been long enough. Let him have that 5 minutes he needs to talk to her cause, yeah I do not doubt that Y/N took their breakup hard, but what about Rafe? Hmm? Believe it or not John B, but my brother has fucking feelings too, okay. He probably took that break up just as hard and Wheezie and I witnessed it. So stop acting like even whispering Rafe's name will break her and just fucking ask her if she wants to walk with Rafe or Pope."

"Fine. If it makes you and Rafe happy, I'll ask her." John B huffed.

Rafe didn't stay to hear the rest, just turned around and walked back to his room, the whiskey bottle long forgotten. 

****

Fall had come quickly and the wedding date came even faster. It was like Rafe blinked and then he was on the ferry two days before the wedding, sitting next to you, very awkwardly might I add, his leg bouncing up and down as he played with his fingers. It was like he didn't know what to do with his hands. After all these years, the most natural thing to do with one of his hands was still to place it on your thigh and the amount of willpower it took to not do that exact thing was unbelievable.

Rafe had told his dad that he was going to rent his own car because eight hours in a car with his family was a hard no for him. 

So there he was, walking over to the car he rented and opening the door before stopping and watching you get in a car with Pope, Kie, and JJ.

You glanced up just before you got in, making eye contact with him. You gave him a small smile to make it a little less awkward and Rafe returned the smile before hopping into the car. He watched you guys pull away and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh before putting the key into the ignition and starting the car. 

This was going to be the longest three days of his life.

***

He was happy for the long-ass drive of day one considering once everyone got to the hotel, there was a silent, collective decision to all just turn in for the night. 

Day two was a little less chill. After being awoken by a panicked banging on the door of his hotel room, Rafe got out of bed as quickly as he could and opened the door, only to be greeted by Sarah who roughly pushed past him into his room.

“Yeah. Come on in. Good morning to you too.” He deadpanned before shutting the door.

“What the hell am I doing, Rafe?” She asked out of the blue, causing a look of confusion to settle on his face.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” He stated.

He watched as Sarah sat on his bed and ran her hands through her hair, letting out a breath. “Is this too soon? Am I getting married too young? Like, I’m 21, Rafe. I should be out getting blackout drunk and having hookups and having regrets but instead, I’m doing the exact opposite.” She rambled.

“Okay. I see what’s happening now.” Rafe walked over and sat down next to Sarah. “Sarah, trust me when I say that marrying John B will not hurt any of that. I guarantee that you and John B will get blackout drunk together and call someone for a ride. I guarantee you will be having hookups, it’s just that all of them will be with John B. And you will have regrets. What those regrets are, I have no fucking clue but life is full of them. Trust me, I have a lot of regrets and I’m only 24.” Rafe told her. “But, I don’t think marrying John B is going to be one of your regrets. Canceling this wedding would be. After all, the venue does say no refunds.”

Sarah snorted slightly and Rafe bumped his shoulder against hers. “Believe me, Sarah, if anyone is ready to get married at this age, it’s you. You came down with a damn binder filled to the brim when you were like seven and placed it in front of me and dad on the coffee table and told dad to start making connections with everyone in that binder, right down to the dress designer.”

Sarah smiled before turning and wrapping her arms around Rafe. “Who would’ve thought you could give a pep talk. And liked John B.” She said.

Rafe slowly wrapped his arms around his younger sister. “Apparently you because you came to me. However, this does not mean I like John B. I am not going to start canceling shit just to have some one-on-one time with that curly-haired surfer dude. Okay? I simply tolerate him because he somehow makes you happy.”

After breakfast and lunch that he spent with Wheezie, last-minute plans when he walked to your room to ask you to lunch only to knock and have you answer the door which caused him to quickly abandon that plan and say “Whoops sorry. Room 202 for Wheeze,”, the rehearsal dinner came quickly. 

In all honesty, Rafe wasn't really paying attention to the dinner at all. How could he when you were right there, quite literally within his reach, laughing and smiling?

The actual wedding day itself was stressful leading up to the ceremony but after everyone got where they needed to be, it was smooth sailing. Rafe and Wheezie walked out after Kie and JJ. 

Rafe watched you walk down with Pope and couldn't help the pang of jealousy he felt in his chest. He also couldn't help but imagine himself as the groom and you in a white dress, walking down the aisle towards him.

He quickly shook the thought from his head though, watching you take your place next to Wheezie before turning your attention towards the door to watch his dad and sister walkout. 

You glanced over at Rafe and smiled slightly when you saw him bring a hand up to his cheek, wiping away a tear. You turned your attention to John B before Rafe could look over and catch you staring.

You saw John B wipe his hands on his trousers as subtly as he could. You caught JJ's eyes and he shook his head, mouthing 'fucking whipped' to you.

You nodded and moved your eyes between Sarah and John B before settling them back on JJ. 'Obviously' you mouthed back before the pair of you stopped before someone caught you.

In all honesty, Sarah did and she saw Rafe catch the interaction as well, noticing him swallow hard.

The ceremony went smoothly with no objections -Rafe fought back the urge to object just to mess with everyone but he knew his entire family wouldn't appreciate the humor- and after pictures, everyone moved inside for the reception as the sun began to set.

Dinner and drinks were served, toasts were made -JJ had made sure to include a few of John B's stupid and most embarrassing moments, much to Rafe's pleasure-, and then the dancing began. 

Sarah and Ward had their father/daughter dance and then John B and Sarah had their first dance before everyone else was encouraged to join them on the dance floor.

Wheezie walked over to Rafe and Rafe looked at her. "I am not nearly drunk enough to get out on that floor and dance with you Wheezie."

Wheezie just rolled her eyes. "You have a shot right now to go ask Y/N to dance and no one will even notice you. Take it." Rafe ignored her. "Oh, okay. So you can sit there and stare but you don't have the balls to walk up to her and say 'wanna dance'?"

Rafe glared at his half-sister. "Watch your mouth, Wheezie."

Wheezie took one last glance at the dance floor and shrugged. "That's fine. Looks like someone else did."

Rafe had never scanned a crowd faster than he did right there and sure enough, there you were, a cousin of his with his hands on your waist and yours on his shoulders, moving slowly around the dance floor.

"I'm going out for a smoke," Rafe muttered before getting up and making his way out of the building. 

He stood outside and brought out his pack of cigarettes, along with his lighter, and opened up the little carton. He withdrew a cigarette before closing the pack and shoving it back into his pocket, placing the cigarette between his lips. He heard the song from inside end before another one started back up as he flicked the spark wheel a couple of times, his thumb landing on the fork before a flame appeared.

He cupped his hand in front of the flame and brought the flame to the cigarette that rested between his lips, making a mental note to buy a new lighter since his was running out of juice.

Rafe heard the door open and close as he shoved the lighter back into his pocket and inhaled. He blew out the smoke before looking over to see who had joined him and was a little surprised to see you.

Of course, Rafe knew at some point you'd duck out of the party for some fresh air considering in social situations where they were tons of people, you needed to get away for a bit and recharge your social battery. He just didn't expect you to do that so soon.

You both stared out in front of you, not saying anything and Rafe brought the cigarette to his lips again, taking another drag.

"It's beautiful out here." You breathed out, trying to start some conversation.

Rafe nodded as he exhaled. "Yeah, it is."

"I wouldn't mind getting married here." You added absent-mindedly.

If Rafe had a drink right now, he would've choked at your words. He nodded nonetheless. "Yeah. It's a pretty nice place to get married."

You looked over at Rafe. "You gonna be okay over there, big guy?"

Rafe turned his head to look at you, confusion written all over his face. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw you wipe a tear away, bub." Rafe's heart sped up at the nickname that you used to use on him. "When Sarah was walking down the aisle. You gonna be okay or should the same reaction be expected at Wheezie's wedding too?" You smiled as Rafe groaned, tilting his head to look at the almost pitch-black sky.

"Don't even mention Wheezie getting married. To me, she's still that annoying thirteen-year-old that was always eavesdropping and snooping through shit." 

"Awe, Rafe. You got a soft spot for your sisters now. That’s so sweet." You cooed, knowing that when he was 19, the only thing he did was complain about the two Cameron girls. "Seriously though, I think it's sweet that you walked with Wheezie and that you shed a tear today." You told him.

Rafe couldn't stop the words that tumbled out of his mouth. "I wanted to walk with you but you told John B you'd rather walk with Pope."

Way to go, dumbass, he thought to himself.

"What are you talking about?" It was your turn to look confused.

Rafe sighed, taking another drag from his cigarette and letting the smoke pour past his lips as he spoke. "I offered to walk with you and John B said no. I overheard him and Sarah talking a bit later and Sarah told him that it wouldn't hurt to ask if you wanted to walk with me or not. And I think you know the rest."

He might as well fess up about it since his mouth and brain already decided to rat him out anyway.

You shook your head. "I don't know the rest because John B never asked me who I wanted to walk with nor did he ask if I wanted to walk with you."

Rafe looked over at you, his eyes locked on yours. He knew when you were lying and this was not one of those times.

He chuckled before shaking his head. "God. He's such a dick."

You ignored his comment about one of your best friends and walked closer to him. "You seriously wanted to walk with me?"

Rafe nodded, looking down at the ground. He was in way over his head, admitting that after half a decade he was still thinking about you and wanting to be with you. Even if it was for like a 20-second walk down an aisle.

You felt a blush grow on your cheeks as you looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers.

A beat passed before you spoke, keeping your head down. "If it makes you feel better… I would've said yes."

Rafe looked at you. "Yeah?"

You nodded and he took another drag from his cigarette.

"Can we start over?" He asked.

"What?" Your Y/E/C eyes lifted from the ground to meet his blue ones.

"Can we start over?"

You bit your lip. "Yeah. Sure."

Rafe cleared his throat before placing a small smile on his face and giving a little bow. "Hello. I'm Rafe."

You breathed out a laugh before giving Rafe a slight curtsy. "Hello, Rafe. I'm Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Rafe shook his head. "Oh no. The pleasure is all mine."

Your heads both turned to the building when the song changed once again to a slower song and Rafe took Wheezie's advice on seizing an opportunity. 

"You still like this song?" You nodded once more and Rafe put out his cigarette before extending his hand to you. "Would you like to dance?"

You smiled and took his hand. "Of course."

He placed his hands on your waist and yours looped around his neck, him starting to sway you two slightly.

"You look amazing by the way." Rafe complimented, taking in the lavender color of your bridesmaid dress.

"Thank you. You look rather dashing yourself." You took your hands from his neck and straightened his tie before returning them to where they previously were.

You moved closer to Rafe, resting your head on his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Rafe?" You mumbled towards the end of the song.

"Mhm?"

"I missed you." You admitted.

Rafe smiled before placing a kiss at the top of your head. "I missed you too, Y/N/N."

"Rafe?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you maybe wanna ride back to the ferry together? 8 hours is a long trip.  Especially when you're alone and I have to deal with JJ, Pope, and Kie." 

You heard Rafe’s heart speed up a bit before it calmed back down as he took a deep breath. 

"I would love that."

~~~~~~~

[megalony]

Chest infection

This is a dad! Harry Styles imagine that I hope everyone is going to enjoy, feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Masterlist

Summary: Harry and (Y/n) spend the day looking after their daughter when she’s sick.

Enjoy.

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Slowly lifting his head from where it was tucked into the crook of (Y/n)'s neck, Harry glanced his eyes over to the clock on the side table behind (Y/n), his blurring vision seeing that it was six in the morning. It was far too early to get up when he didn't have to head down to the studio and had no interviews or meetings or press events he had to go to. It was especially too early to get up when he had gotten back at eleven last night from a press event and didn't get to sleep until gone midnight.

But he knew that it had been a few hours since he had last checked on his little girl and he just wanted to go and make sure that she was okay. For the past week Amber had been suffering with a chest infection and (Y/n) and Harry had taken to checking on her every few hours during the night just to make sure she was fine and breathing okay since she was prone to coughing and wheezing a lot.

It took a lot of effort for Harry to tear himself away from (Y/n) and stand up but once his feet hit the carpet and his head cleared, he slowly trudged out of the room and down the hall to Amber's room.

A small smile formed on Harry's lips when he quietly peeked his head round the door into the pale aqua blue room that was dimly lit up by the paper fairy lights hanging up in loops above the bed which always reminded Harry of Christmas lights.

He'd been peering his head round the door every few hours since he got back home last night, making sure his little girl was okay. He was glad he didn't have to go into the studio today and do any recording or writing because it meant he could stay home and make sure Amber was okay. Harry was about to turn around and leave the room but he heard Amber's raspy voice calling out for him.

"Daddy." Her voice was quiet but croaky and followed by a cough that made Harry shiver and wince. He hated when either (Y/n) or Amber were ill, he didn't know what to do to help and when Amber was a baby and she was ill it made Harry feel so helpless when trying to make her feel better.

He turned back in her direction and slowly walked into the room and across the navy blue carpet that his feet sank into like he was walking on sand. When he reached Amber he laid down on the bed beside her, opening his arms so she could cuddle up into his chest. When she tucked herself against him Harry kissed the top of her head, fighting hard to stay awake when he could feel his mind so close to shutting down from the lack of sleep he'd had so far tonight.#

"You okay baby girl?" He whispered quietly against her hair, feeling how she was wheezing every few breaths but he was glad he could hear the tiredness in her voice, she needed to get some more sleep.

"Hmm. S-sing daddy, please?" Amber was already on the way to sleep when she spoke, Harry could hear her voice dropping and her head lolling against his chest because it was too much effort to try and look up at him. But he would indulge her and sing to her to make sure she got to sleep. Normally whether they were in the car, cooking, dancing around the house or even just taking a walk, Amber and Harry would be singing together. But right now they both knew Amber wasn't in the best state to sing so she would settle for listening to Harry sing to get her to sleep.

Lullabies always worked on the four year old ever since she was born, Harry singing was the best remedy she could want.

Harry very quietly started to sing Sweet Creature to her which was Amber and his mother's favourite song of his but halfway through the lyrics he turned to humming the song instead when Amber was already asleep. He started to card his fingers through Amber's matching chocolate brown locks, undoing any knots and tangles in her hair as he lulled himself to sleep with his girl in his arms.

Harry didn't know how long he had been asleep but when he slowly cracked his eyes open the room was significantly lighter than before. The glow of the fairy lights was dimmed out by the light passing through the thin curtains. He tipped his head back into the pillow as his tired eyes focused on (Y/n) sitting on the side of the bed beside him, her eyes slowly drifting between him and Amber. It was unusual to see Harry laying on his back when he always slept on his side but it was very endearing to see him laying like this with Amber sprawled out on his chest with her head tucked neatly under his chin.

"How's she doing?"

(Y/n) reached over and brushed some of Amber's hair back behind her ear as Harry simultaneously did the same to his own hair before rubbing at his eyes with the base of his hand to try and wake himself up. He caught sight of the clock on the wall opposite him saying that it was half past eight so he'd had just over two hours of sleep with Amber. Presumably she'd had the same amount of sleep or else she would have woken him up.

"She's good, been sound asleep." Both parents could hear the croaky way she was breathing but she was calm and asleep and not gasping for air which showed she wasn't getting any worse.

"Bring her to sleep in our room, I miss you both." It took Harry a moment longer than it should have for him to realise that (Y/n) was still in her pyjamas meaning she hadn't gotten up or got breakfast yet, (Y/n) had a thing for getting dressed before doing anything in the morning.

A fond smile formed on Harry's lips when (Y/n) leaned down, tucking her face into the crook of his neck so she could press butterfly kisses to his skin causing shivers to run up and down his spine.

"Come on then." Harry kissed (Y/n)'s cheek before he slowly sat up, cradling Amber to his chest since was still asleep and he wanted to keep it that way. He methodically ran his fingers through Amber's hair as he tiredly followed (Y/n) out of the room and down to their room. The moment Harry carefully sat down on the bed he froze when Amber let out a cough against his chest causing him to rub his hand up and down her back for a few moments.

(Y/n) reached her arm out and pulled Amber close to her chest when Harry settled her in the middle of the bed under the covers with them. The four year old scrunched up the cover around her, curling her arms and legs up to her chest as her breathing crackled like static but she seemed much calmer than yesterday.

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

"D-daddy?" Amber's spluttering yet worried voice snapped Harry out of the daze he had been in for a while watching the random tv programme that had been on for about an hour now just before (Y/n) had gotten a shower and gone downstairs to get some jobs done. His arm retracted from resting behind his head and he looked down at Amber.

The four year old had been asleep on and off since coming into her parent's room and she hadn't been eating very much either. Harry knew for the past half an hour she hadn't been asleep but she had been laid down under his arm pressed up to his side with her eyes closed so he figured she was just resting since she was unwell.

"What's up, baby?" His fingers carded through Amber's hair for a few moments but he could feel his heartbeat increasing when Amber was beginning to cough and splutter more than she was actually breathing in.

Harry sat himself up better on the bed before he gently lifted Amber up so she was sitting beside him rather than laying down. He rubbed his hand up and down her back to see if it would help get her lungs working better and help her to take in a proper breath but he could see the way her eyes were full of fright as they burned into his own. She was looking at him in fear like she was trying to search his eyes to find the answers she needed.

The sudden cry that left Amber's lips startled Harry and made him lean back in shock when her cry sounded like she was gasping for air but wailing at him at the same time like he had done something wrong.

"Shh, hey it's okay, you're okay." Harry rested one hand on Amber's chest and the other kept rubbing up and down her back to try and help. It was like the time she had fallen down the stairs and knocked all the wind out of her system, she just had to figure out how to get rid of the shock and breathe properly again. The more Amber panicked the worse her breathing was going to be.

A sense of panic rushed through Harry when tears started to fall from Amber's eyes and she was still gasping like a fish out of water.

After a minute had passed, Harry moved his hand and gently brushed the tears from Amber's eyes but the frown on his face creased and deepened and he felt like his heart was breaking in his chest at seeing his girl wheezing like this. There was a panicked look in her eyes when she seemed to breathe out and cough but not be able to take any air in.

Tears welled in Harry's eyes when Amber suddenly gasped and seemed to grog like her throat muscles were rubbing together, not allowing her to breathe. One of her hands reached out and grabbed Harry's arm but the other started to wave up and down in front of her chest to indicate that it was hurting and that she couldn't breathe, as if Harry didn't already know this. Another choking sound left Amber's lips before she scrunched her eyes up tightly and let out the most groggy, strangled wail which boarded on a scream that Harry had ever heard.

"Alright baby girl, it's alright." Hooking his hands under her arms, Harry picked Amber up from sitting on the bed so he could hold her against his chest with her arms around his neck and her chin resting on his shoulder. He grabbed the blanket resting beside him and wrapped it around them both, tucking it around Amber before he slowly but forcefully started to rub his hand up and down her back and between her shoulder blades.

When Harry felt her breaths becoming more normal instead of rapid coughing and no intakes, he slowly stood to his feet, keeping the blanket tightly around Amber before he made his way out of the room and down to the bathroom. A bath and a lot of steam was what Amber needed right now to help her chest.

"D-daddy it h.. hurts..." There was a fearful tone to Amber's crackling voice and her arms tightened significantly around Harry's neck when he reached the bathroom.

He could feel the way she was shaking against him and he was sure she could feel the nerves radiating off of him from how badly she was breathing. Harry remembered when he and his sister used to have bad chest infections, their mother swore by steam and hot baths to calm down any fever and open their chests to let them breathe so he was going to follow his mother's example and pray that it helped.

"You're gonna have a bath baby girl and it'll make you feel better I promise."

Moving over to the pale pink bath mat, Harry sat down cross-legged and settled Amber on his lap, keeping her bundled under the blanket against his chest to try and keep her chest warm to help her breathing. He kept the bathroom window closed and reached across to turn on the taps to run the bath. Waiting for it to full felt like Harry was waiting three lifetimes over as he sat swaying Amber in his arms until the water filled to a substantial amount and was layered with bubbles.

The bath couldn't have filled up quick enough when Harry realised Amber was breathing in more and more but she wasn't breathing out this time rather than the other way around. It sounded like her throat muscles were clenching and pressing together like she was having an allergic reaction to something when she wasn't.

He made sure the temperature was hot but not hot enough to scold or burn Amber before he unravelled the blanket from around her. The little girl's nose was running, her eyes were red and puffy but her skin was pale and her lips were parted and she was coughing brutally.

"Come on baby."

Harry stood Amber to her feet in front of him and took off her Winnie The Pooh pyjamas, watching the way she shivered and tilted her head back to see if it would help with her breathing. He wasted no more time before gently lifting her up and sitting her in the bath. It clearly took Amber a moment to adjust to the water temperature but when she slowly lowered her shoulders into the water, her coughing changed to grumbles and clearing her throat before she seemed to settle down in just over a minute.

Harry stayed sitting beside the bath, watching the steam swirl around Amber like wheels of smoke enveloping around her in a comforting hug. He dipped his hand into the water so he could splash some bubbles at her, watching how she breathed much better and seemed a lot calmer in the bubbles and the water and that in turn made him feel better.

"Harry?" (Y/n) tried to read her husband's face when she looked into the bathroom to see if he and Amber were in here. She came back upstairs and they were no longer in their bedroom or Amber's room.

"She wasn't doing so good so I... I thought the steam might help." The dwindling panic on Harry's faced said it all and showed the anxiety he had gone through just moments ago.

(Y/n) closed the door behind her and kneeled down on the mat beside Harry, her eyes focusing on Amber who was tiredly playing with a sponge and hitting at the bubbles. She was still croaky and her breaths were uneven but at least she was breathing and didn't look like she was struggling too much. (Y/n) leaned her head on Harry's shoulder as he ran his fingers through his hair, it was naturally curly anyway but the steam was making his hair curl even worse into small but millions of little crimped curls rather than longer waves.

"I'll get her out now, could you grab her onesie?" (Y/n) moved over until she was kneeling beside the end of the tub where Amber was. She would take over since Harry had spent most of the night and morning with her but (Y/n) knew it would be better to put Amber in her thick woolly onesie to keep her warm and stop the cold from getting to her chest. "Come on baby, I think you need another nap."

(Y/n) whipped the towel from the radiator and wrapped it around Amber when the four year old tiredly stood up, smiling weakly when (Y/n) lifted her from the tub and sat her down on her lap to dry her off.

The only good thing about when Amber was sick or feeling under the weather was the fact that she was so attached to both parents and wanted endless cuddles and that was something that Harry adored.

When Harry came back into the bathroom he kneeled beside his girls, handing (Y/n) the baby blue mixed with light pink onesie, watching (Y/n) get Amber changed as he sat with a fluffy blanket in his hands ready to wrap Amber up in to keep her warm.

Harry was about to hand the blanket over to (Y/n) to wrap around Amber but he had no time before a sudden coughing fit overtook the four year old that made her cheeks turned a vibrant shade of crimson and caused the muscles around her neck to constrict and tighten. It was clear that the steam had only cleared her chest and lungs for so long because she could barely catch enough oxygen to breathe right now despite the room being covered in steam that made it hard to see straight.

The moment Amber managed to take in a proper breath, a wail left her lips that made (Y/n) shiver and sent Harry reeling. She looked like she was in so much pain and Amber had a very small pain threshold, even a minor paper cut or a stubbed toe sent her into fits of tears. She didn't know what to do or how to react when she was ill and cuddles could only calm her down and work for so long.

"Ohh, baby." Harry cooed when Amber started to cry which sounded more like broken static on a tv.

Harry smiled sadly when Amber shuffled across from (Y/n)'s lap into his own, snuggling into the blanket when he wrapped it around her before he gently picked her up and stood to his feet along with (Y/n). They needed to bundle Amber back under the covers in bed and keep her warm but the couple knew a trip to the hospital was most likely what was going to happen later on today if Amber got any worse.

"Let's get you back to bed."