#since i haven’t all week really but there’s nowhere to fucking go in the winter

[blossoms-phan]

im so BOREDDDD ugh

[destielsaep]

Dean Winchester/Fem!Reader

18+ // 1763 words // made for @arlensw1fe

You, Dean and Sam had been on this hunt in Floyd, Virginia for almost a week now, it seemed like an easy salt and burn but now you’re thinking otherwise. Everyone who went into this house would end up dead exactly a week after, seven people had died so far, three from heart attacks and the rest from suffocation.

None of you had any clue how to go about this, you had no leads whatsoever and it was really beginning to take a toll on all of you. Sam has been in the local library for almost 6 hours reading up on the lore. It’s now almost 8pm and you just want to have a shower and head to bed. You head through the door to your motel room and shrug off your black puffer jacket, it was nearing winter so you decided to wear a cream coloured v-neck sweater, some worn baggy jeans and black converse. The motel heaters were actually working for once, basically the only good thing about your day, so you decided to chill on your bed for a few minutes before hopping in the shower. 

  Just as you get comfortable there’s a knock on the door. You pick up your gun and walk over, double checking to make sure the safety is off. Glancing through the peephole you see Dean stood there with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. You open the door and head back over to your bed, setting the gun on the bed side table.

  “Sam called yet?” You ask him as he walks over to the refrigerator in your room and grabs a beer.

  “Yeah, said he’s gonna head back soon and pick it up again tomorrow.” He glances at you and sees you relaxing with your feet up on the bed and head leaning against the headboard. 

  “You know instead of sitting there with your feet up, you could actually be doing something to help.” He states, leaning against the counter. He doesn’t sound angry, he sounds tired but he has no right to take it out on you. You’re helping, you’ve been helping ever since Dean called you and said he needed help looking for John, ever since he dragged you to Stanford to pick up Sam, ever since John died. You haven’t even thought about leaving them.

  “Look, just because this isn’t going our way doesn’t mean it’s my fault. I’ve been helping, there’s not much we can do right now unless you want me to walk right into the house and make myself a target.” You say standing up and grabbing some clothes out of your duffel for after the shower. You hear Dean sigh and you look up at him, clothes in hand, “Do you have something to say?” You ask, you’re so fed up with his shit, it’s like everything you do lately just pisses him off.

  “Yeah actually, I do,” He stands up and begins slowly walking towards you as he speaks, “All week you’ve been acting like this whole hunt doesn’t even make it to the top ten of your priorities, it’s like you’re not even here. As always it’s me and Sam doing all the work and you’re just sat on your ass as if we don’t have a fucking job to do!” He shouts, you could feel his breath ghosting on your face as he yelled. He’s chest rising and falling with every breath as he’s towering over you awaiting your response.

  “As always huh?” You laugh but the humour is nowhere to be found, “Okay so when I let you guys use me as bait and I was knocked out and kidnapped for 3 days I was just sitting back and relaxing? Or what about when I spent everyday for a year trying to find a way out of your demon deal? Or how about when I fucking held you as you cried over Sam and then the next day you told me to fuck off and gave me the cold shoulder for two weeks but I still,” you shake your head in disbelief, “I still followed you everywhere you asked me to go. I always do anything you ask and this is how you treat me.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I can’t deal with this shit.” You turn to walk to the bathroom when you feel a hand grab your wrist and spin you back round.

  “What now?” You question, but before you can even comprehend what’s happening you feel two big hands close around your face and drag you into a kiss. Neither of you move for what felt like minutes. When you finally break apart you just stare at each other for a while, wondering what just happened.

  “Fuck it.” And that's the last thing you hear before his mouth is back on yours and he’s pulling your bottom lip with his teeth, allowing his tongue entry to your mouth, he pushes one of his hands into your hair and the other lands on your waist. Your hands move to push off his flannel as he continues to explore your mouth. Slowl. You start backing him up towards the bed and once his knees hit the back he sits down. You stand between his legs and pull your sweater over your head, you see his pupils dilate to the point that there’s only a faint rim of green around them. He gently places his hands on your hips and licks his lips waiting for you to do something. You grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it over his head and throw it to the side, uncaring of where it lands. You move your legs so they're either side of Dean’s and lower yourself down onto his lap and go straight for his neck, one of your hands makes it’s way into his hair and you give it a small tug and you hear a whimper.

  “Interesting..” You chuckle and get back to work, sucking and licking at his neck.

  “____, please” You grin against his neck and grind your hips down onto his jean-covered erection. Dean lets out a breathy moan and tries to thrust his hips back up into it. Once you’re satisfied with your work you back away from his neck and lay a hand on his chest pushing him down. You both move up so you’re laying on the pillows and Dean leans up again for a kiss, he pushes his hand into your hair and puts his other on your ass so he can move you to grind onto him. You begin kissing down his neck and then his collar bones, once you reach his left nipple you swirl your tongue around it and bite lightly on the nub eliciting a groan from him and then you move and do the same to the other. You continue to make your way down until you’re at the hem of his jeans.

  “Fuck.. c’mon ___ plea-” His begging gets cut off by a loud moan as you mouth around his cock through his jeans. His hands fly to your hair and you begin to pull down the zipper using your teeth, once you’ve gotten his jeans undone fully you pull them off along with his boxers. Dean was definitely above average but he wasn’t too big, you took him in your hand and licked a stripe from base to tip.

  “Yeah that’s it.” Dean encourages, with that you take the head into your mouth and suck, swirling your tongue at the same time. Dean moves his hands from your head to the sheet on the bed and grips it so hard his knuckles turn white. Seeing what you’re doing to him makes you chuckle against his erection, pulling another mone out of him. You pull off once you feel him starting to get close, sitting up on his lap, you begin removing your bra. Once that's off you stand up and remove your jeans and panties and then put yourself back into position hovering over his cock, barely grazing it.

  Dean tries to rock up into you but everytime he tries to, you just move away, he glares at you. 

  “Say you’re sorry.” You say smirking, Dean never apologizes whether he knows he’s in the wrong or not. He scoffs at your request.

  “Yeah, that’s not happening.” He starts to try to thrust up again but you still have all the leverage by being on top of him.

  “I’m not moving until you say it, Dean.” He groans at your statement. 

  “Fine, I’m sorry, okay? I’m fucking sorr-” His outburst gets cut short as you sit down on his cock, taking him balls deep in one go. You both moan in unison and he pulls you down by your neck for another kiss, as you’re making out you start moving your hips up and down and he matches you thrust for thrust. Soon enough you both feel your climaxes approaching and his thrusts become sloppy. 

“____, I’m close.” He says in a moan.

“So do it.” You move your mouth so that it’s grazing his ear, “Come for me Dean.” And so he does, thrusting up into you, hitting that spot every single time and before you know it you’re coming too. He fucks you through it until you become oversensitive. You climb off of him on shaky legs and find his discarded shirt on the floor and use it to wipe between your legs.

   “Hey! I liked that shirt.” He says unmoving, you chuckle and throw it at him and grab his flannel and put it on to cover yourself up. Standing next to the bed you become slightly nervous because you don’t know whether he wants you to come back or to go into the bathroom so he can leave and you guys can just pretend this never happened.

  “Stop thinking so much and get back over here.” His voice rips you out of your thoughts and you feel a smile creep its way onto your face as you climb into the bed next to him and lay your head on his bicep. You guys relax for a few seconds before you speak.

  “You know, if you feel like I should be doing something or you even just..if you need me all you gotta do is say that, Dean.” You feel him place a soft kiss on your temple. 

  “I know.” He replies. Not long after you guys fall into a deep sleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

[3trnlsun]

-ˋˏ 𝐂𝐀𝐍’𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 ˎˊ

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐈 : 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐓.

— pairing: ellie williams x black coded!reader

— story synopsis: after meeting joel and ellie in pure coincidence, you tag along with the pair, having nowhere else to go. ellie doesn’t seem too fond of you, but something about her dares you to see why.

— warnings: eighteen plus only content, tlou2 ellie, marijuana usage, mean!ellie, nicknames used: ‘babe’, ‘sweetheart’, etc. father figure!joel

THE COOLING WINTER BREEZE sent shivers down the girls back. holding the shooting rifle close as she shot down the deer, giving herself a mental pat on the back.

It’s almost been a whole week since she’d eaten, been even longer since she ate well. after a long journey of searching for the firefly’s, she had given up.. maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

While approaching the wounded deer, there were hushed noises and movements behind the girl, making her sharply turn around, seizing her gun.

“Make a fucking move I dare y’all.” her breathing was slow, controlled. eyes narrowed at the older looking man with his.. daughter? maybe?

The older man raises his hands, surrendering. the girl however smirks, reloading her gun.

“Ellie. drop it.” The guy calls to her, making her roll her eyes.

The girl… or well Ellie most likely didn’t take her seriously, I mean, she probably wouldn’t take herself seriously. She was covered in blood and scars all over her face, her clothes were beaten up and her curls were wrapped up in a low bun.

“Who are you two and what the hell do you want.” you inquire, your gun still in tact with your hands.

“Listen, we don’t want any trouble. We just heading on over to Jackson that’s all. We was making sure you wasn’t a hunter.” The man speaks, you hum in response.

“Well she sure does look like one..” Ellie murmurs under her breathe. She catches that and shoots right above Ellie’s head.

“Are you crazy or something, what the fuck?!?!” Ellie yells, unprepared for that action.

“Sorry.” A sarcastic smile falls from her lips, shrugging as she puts her gun down.

“I kinda like her.” The man whisper-yells to Ellie.

“Oh shut up, Joel.” Her eyes roll in disgust. So.. not father and daughter?

”Is it just the two of you..?” She asks, tucking her hands into the pockets of her big jacket.

“Is it just you?” Ellie interrogates, eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

Okay white girl.. she definitely isn’t too shy.

“Do you see anyone standing with me?” She asks, with just the right amount of annoyance, added with sass in her tone.

”Well I don’t know you, mystery girl. You could have a whole gang of people jus’ waitin’ to punk us.” Ellie scoffs.

Joel lightly hits her on her head, making her wince in pain.

“Sorry ‘bout her. Her manners aren’t the best.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nah it’s ight, I can tell.” She says, looking her up and down.

“Do you have anywhere to go?” Joel asks, concern lacing his voice.

“Nah, just me. Some of my friends.. well. That ain’t important, just know it’s just me out here.” She shrugs nonchalantly.

“You could always join us, the town we going to ain’t that far away y’know?” Joel offers, a slight smile spreading across his face. You could tell he had good intentions.. Ellie on the other hand.. you couldn’t really tell.

“And how do I know I can trust you..?” You ask, testing them.

“You can’t, but if you wanna survive.. you’re gonna have to.” Joel concludes, hands in his pockets standing next to a smug Ellie.

“… Fine. But I’m calling dibs on my deer.”

“Oh trust, you won’t need it.”

“Hey hey hey, relax you might throw up if you keep eating that fast.” The woman whose name you’ve learned is, Maria chuckles, rubbing circles on her back.

Clearing her throat, Y/N speaks. “I’m sorry.. I haven’t eaten this well in.. god knows how long.” She nervously chuckles.

“Don’t worry ‘bout a thing hun, I’ll be back with some clothes for you in a minute.” She smiles, patting Y/N’s back.

Y/N stops to gulp down some water when she’s met with Ellie’s face. Eyebrows furrowed, lips upturned, and a total look of disgust colorizing her face.

“What?” She spat.

“You’re eating like a damn animal.” She scoffs, leaning back in her chair.

Gripping the butter knife in her hand, she waves it at the snarky girl in front of her. “Yeah? I can damn well show you one too, keep playin’ wit me.” She threatens, venom laced in her tone.

“Yeah? Try me, Y/N.” Ellie smirked, leaning forward. Green and brown eyes staring to one other with nothing but feral looks in their eyes.

Their stare off was cut off by Joel cutting in. “Ellie. Be nice, there was a time you were once like that, so don’t even.” he murmurs.

Maria returns with clothes, handing them to Y/N. “Here sweetie, these are for you. Once you’re all done, I’ll show you around to the showers so you can get comfortable.”

“Thank you, really.” Y/N smiles, for the first time in a while, it’s genuine.

“And these are our showers, so you can wash all that blood off okay? We also have some med kit’s in the room you’re staying in, so you can get those cuts taken care of!” Maria shoots you a sweet smile.

“Thanks Maria.” She nods.

“So… how did you get here?” Maria asks, making you shoot your head up, tilting it.

“I just.. well a kid like you all alone? It’s just a little strange is all..”

“Listen, if you worried about me bringing anyone along with me, I haven’t. No one I know is alive anymore.. that I know of at least.” Y/N sighs.

“Shit, I’m real sorry-“ Maria starts

“No need. I’m alright. Shit happens, just gotta keep moving forward is all.” She shrugs, small smile containing her lips.

Maria nods, letting the curly headed girl shower in peace.

It’s been a week.

A long, but better, week.

Ellie’s still a piece of shit but.. I guess it’s better than dealing with the infected.

The town was nice, the people even nicer.. all with the exception of Ellie. Maria was one of the few people that you did like. She showed you the training zone, which is where you spent half of your time.

The other half was spent with Jesse. You thought he was fun to hang around so the two of you got closer than ever. Though, the two of you have made it clear that there are no romantic feelings for one another, because of your sexual orientation, and he respected that.

Weird enough.. every time you were with Jesse, Ellie always gave you the weirdest looks.

Like today, Jesse got back from patrol with a scraped up knee. And being his best friend, you tended it for him.

What you didn’t see was Ellie standing there, watching you patch him up and laugh and joke with him. Though she didn’t like you, she didn’t like you.. with him.

Once you were all done you patted his now bandaged up knee, smiling to him, letting him know that he should take care of it frequently so it won’t get infected.

“Hey stranger.” You hear right next to you as you close the door, jumping and grabbing your chest.

“Yo. Ellie do not do that shit bro.” You exhale, releasing the grip on your chest and looking her up and down. “What you want?” You ask.

“So what’s going on with you and Jesse?” she throws at you, making you blink rapidly at her before bursting into laughter, leaving her confused.

“Dude, what?? What’s it to you?” You calm your laughter down a bit, wiping away tears that escaped.

“I don’t know what’s so funny. I mean.. y’know him and Dina JUST broke it off right?” She scoffs, looking you up and down.

“Listen dude, it aint like that. Ion even swing that way man, I thought that shit was mad obvious you damn dickhead.” Y/N gives her a “the fuck?” look, leaving Ellie dumbfounded as she walks off.

“OKAY WELL MY BAD! I GUESS..?” Ellie yells, watching you walk off.

“WHATEVER.” Y/N yells back. “God.. you’re the worst, Ellie Williams.”

©𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦.

[therealvalkyrie]

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 6

sketch

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.  

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: fluff, romantic vegetable chopping, the chapter of realizing things

AN: Well, it’s been six fucking months, but it’s finally here!! It’s a little shorter than I’d prefer, and took a lot of iterations to get here, but I’m very satisfied:) Thanks, as always, to my lovely @doinmybesthere for editing and encouraging. I hope you all enjoy! I think there’re maybe 1 or 2 parts left in this story, that’ll hopefully be out more quickly than I managed this one. Please let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 5 here)

Finals week passes in a slow blur, barely leaving enough time for you to breathe between essays, exams, and one presentation that you think takes at least a year off the end of your life. It’s much the same for everyone else, as well — you barely see Levi, not counting the nights you spend alternating between your bed and his, and you don’t see Hange at all. Consequently, there’s no opportunity to break apart what happened on Saturday. No chance to peel back its layers and find how you really feel. Although, to her credit, Annie doesn’t appear again, so you’re able to shove it into a corner of your mind for the time being.

Saturday brings with it both a new winter storm and an overwhelming sense of relief. You let it fill you completely as you sit and watch snow swirl outside. The street below your kitchen window is bustling with students trying to outrun the storm to get home for vacation. But you have nowhere to be, nothing to do. It’s nice.

The door opens, bringing with it the stomping of Levi’s boots. You turn to watch him shake snow from his hair, sinking deeper into the reassurance of knowing that everything you need is here under your roof. Safe.

Hmm. What the fuck?

You choke on the next sip of your tea as the realization of what you just felt hits you square in the chest. Through your coughing and hacking, you reach again for that fleeting sense of home. Childish, content, warm.

“Are you okay?” Levi calls from the entrance, looking at you with pinched brows halfway through hanging up his jacket.

“Fine,” you cough out, pushing back from the table to hunch over and catch your breath. “I’m okay.”

It takes a moment for you to stop breathing hard, though when you do, your heart rate doesn’t return to normal, instead pushing blood to your face and neck and making your body feel light. Levi doesn’t help when he finally joins you in the kitchen, all floppy hair and bright cheeks from the snow. All leisurely about the way he stretches his lean body to take his favorite blend of Earl Grey from the top of the fridge.

“I was thinking about dinner,” he starts, completely oblivious to the way you’ve started sweating under your cardigan. “We shouldn’t order because of the snow, so I brought home stuff to make soup.”

“What kind?” It’s a miracle the words come out normally.

“Chicken noodle.” He turns to face you. “My mom’s recipe.”

—

“I don’t get why guys are always so uppity about kitchen knives,” you say, picking up what Levi’s told you is a utility knife. “Like, it’s just a knife. I’m not about to stab myself with it.” Your finger drags along its sharp edge for only a split second when Levi’s slim fingers are suddenly around your wrist.

“Don’t. Touch. The knives,” he growls, taking the utility knife gently from your other hand and placing it back on the counter. “I just sharpened them last week, you could’ve seriously cut yourself.”

His steel eyes hold yours for another long moment until you nod your head mutely. You haven’t been able to shake the knot of hyperawareness that’s been settled in your belly since your what the fuck moment, and it only twists tighter when he’s so close to you. His hair is dry now, curling slightly because he hasn’t bothered to comb it since he got home. You have to actively resist the urge to twist a particularly enthusiastic curl around your finger in the split second before he backs away again.

Muttering under his breath, he returns to the simmering pot on the stove that he claims has turned into stock, though you hardly believe it. Growing up, you’d never been taught kitchen skills, let alone anything close to actual labor.

For a while, you’re content to watch, sitting at the table and nursing both the ache in your chest and a fresh cup of chamomile, but the urge to join him in his quiet work overwhelms you as he’s washing the vegetables.

“Levi, please, can I help?” Your tone edges on whining, prompting him to huff and shift on his feet. “I promise I won’t touch the knives! There, just, must be something I can do.”

You see him roll his eyes, swear under his breath, then turn towards you with a glower.

“No talking, no questions, and go wash your hands.”

“Yes!” you cheer and stand up with a bounce.

The scent of the bar of soap as you lather and wash cuts pleasantly through the spices and thick scents already filling the kitchen. It’s not something you’ve experienced often, and you relish in what you realize must be home comfort, your grin settling from enthused to contented.

Levi is arranging carrots, celery, and onions next to the cutting board when you join him again.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to touch the knives?”

“You’re not, until I show you how to do it without chopping off your fingers.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” you tease, but nevertheless settle in beside him to watch as he lines up a carrot and picks up the utility knife.

“We’re generally going for even pieces, though it doesn’t matter much because it’s a soup. Put your fingers like this,” you lean over a bit to see how he’s arranged his left hand holding the carrot, the tips of his fingers just barely tucked under the knuckles, “so that you can chop like this—“ he begins slicing, knife guided by his knuckles “—and not lose your fingers. Always point the blade away from yourself and others, and never hold the handle like you’re going to stab something. That’s not effective, anyway. If you have to use this as a weapon, it’s much more effective to slash rather than stab, considering bone density—“

“Uhh,” you cut in, “pause. Are we slicing carrots or fending off home invaders?”

He stops chopping. “What did I say about asking questions?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Anyway. Considering bone density, you’ll have better luck aiming to cut big veins than forcing through ribs.”

He’s done with the first carrot, now, lithe fingers flipping the knife so the blade is up.

“Never drag the blade along the surface sideways. Flip it over and use the blunt edge to move food.” He demonstrates, moving the little pile of carrot slices to a corner of the cutting board. “Your turn.”

And then, like it’s nothing, he’s offering you the handle with a flat expression.

“Uhm.” You press your lips together and eye it for a long pause. “Are you sure?”

“It’s just a carrot. You’ll be fine.” He lets another unsure moment slide into being, then sighs and reaches out to wrap your hand around the handle. “Here, like this.”

And like you’ve suddenly stepped into a poorly-written romcom, he’s guiding your hands under his to the next waiting carrot, curling your fingers exactly like he showed you before, and scooting over to let you stand in his place. You just let yourself go along with it, hoping desperately that he won’t feel your hands grow clammy or see the way your chin has tucked itself shyly to your chest so you can watch.

Fucking shit carrots, useless goddamn root vegetable, can’t chop itself, has to make me do all the work—

Your aggressive inner monologue takes you all the way through the second carrot, then his hands are leaving yours and he’s placing a third under your waiting blade. Time to fly solo.

—

When you fall asleep in the armchair that night, sated and full of comfort food, Levi sketches in pencil on scrap paper. He sketches his hands over yours in the kitchen and he sketches the steam rising from the pot on the stove. He sketches you sitting with a bowl of soup in your lap, face illuminated by the TV and he sketches your sleeping body curled up, hair in your mouth. He sketches a close-up of your face, with special attention to the curve of your bottom lip, and he considers it practice for finishing the painting in his room.

Levi doesn’t think about how if he doesn’t do something soon, all of this will change. About how you’ll get over your heartbreak and move out at the end of the year and he won’t see you every day and every night. And he definitely doesn’t think about how he’ll have to adjust back to sleeping without your soft body tangled in his, and he doesn’t wonder how he ever slept before you.

No, instead of thinking, he just cracks his knuckles and gently scoops you from the chair and into his arms.

It’s as he’s climbing into his side of your bed that you stir and snort and blink sleepy eyes open.

“What time is it?”

“Ten forty,” he whispers, “go back to sleep.”

You hum and turn on your side to face him, face half hidden by the squish of your pillow. He settles more comfortably in, tucks your head under his chin even though you’re taller than he is, and drapes his free arm around the curve of your waist. 

Quiet breathing is the only thing that fills the room for a long while, and he finally thinks you’ve drifted back off, when:

“Hey, Levi?”

“Hmm?”

“I... I’ve been thinking a lot, and...”

The tone of your voice is odd and it makes Levi’s throat seize up for a moment while you hesitate. He swallows deliberately.

“And?”

Your next words are more confident, like you have really been thinking a lot, your voice not sleepy in the slightest. It’s matter-of-fact and soft and lovely. 

“And you make me feel really safe. Just, like, all the time. And I’m glad I met you. You make me feel, um...,” a small sniffle, “You make me feel held.”

Levi tightens his arm around you and swallows again. It feels like he’s balancing on the head of a pin, and a thousand angels are swirling around him, and it’s taking all he has not to get pushed off.

“Well, I am holding you.”

“Psssssht,” you wriggle slightly back so you can look at his face. You look simultaneously exasperated and vulnerable in the shadows of your bedroom. “You know what I mean.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Well, I guess...” 

You pause to think for a moment, eyes flicking away from Levi’s face for a split second. Then, they’re back on his and he can feel the vulnerable honesty already spilling from you. 

“I’ve never really, um, gotten a lot of physical affection? From people in my life? And, uh, it’s not just that, it’s that you’re so... so— so familiar, and not just because I know you, godimnotmakingalickofsense, but because it feels like I’ve always known you?” It’s said like a question, like you want to know if he feels the same. “And you just make me feel held.”

You pause on a shaky inhale of breath, then cover your face with your hands and roll onto your back away from him. 

“God, I’m sorry, that doesn’t make any sense at all, I’ll just—“

“Stop,” Levi cuts you off, pushing up to lean over you and grasp your wrists in one hand and cover your mouth with the other, a mirror of the pair of you in the kitchen weeks earlier. “It makes sense. I get it.”

Your doe eyes stare up at him just like they did then and he selfishly indulges in an extra second of staring back before he releases you and slides back to rest on an elbow. Your hands stay demurely tucked by your chest where he put them and your tongue flicks out to lick at your lips as your eyes follow him. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I get it.”

“Okay. Good.”

Suddenly, Levi doesn’t feel like going to bed. He feels like running for miles or painting until his hands ache or hitting something, anything to distract him from doing something incredibly stupid right now. The mattress sinks as he sits up and spins his legs out of bed, muttering something about tea and not tired yet, and he almost doesn’t catch the sensation of you sitting up behind him. 

He turns halfway back to tell you to go back to sleep, but your fingers catch his chin and he’s abruptly out of breath.

The curve of your bottom lip is perfectly, exactly the way he sketched it in the semi-dark. It’s slightly chapped.

When you kiss him, soft and certain, he topples off the pinhead and back into his body just in time to do something incredibly stupid and kiss you back.

—

(read part 7 here)

[theonewiththefanfics]

Black Ice (one-shot)

Synopsis: Black ice is considered one of the most dangerous winter weather phenomenon. It appears after it’s rained or snow has melted and then the rapidly cooling air freezes it, leaving it as a shiny black mirror on the ground.  A deadly shiny black mirror. 

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: swearing, mentions of hospitals and injuries

Word count: 8852

“God, Harry, it’s just one night!” Y/N exasperated, throwing her hands in the air. “One fucking night I wanna go out with my friends and have some fun. Is that really too much to ask?”

        “I haven’t seen you in two months!” he snapped back. “So, please fucking forgive me that I wanna spend a night in with my girlfriend and have her say ‘no’ one time, and make me a priority. Is it so hard to reschedule?”

        “Yes, Harry it is!” Y/N stood her ground. “Adam and I have been talking about this for three weeks before we could set a date and meet up. He fucking flew out here! To London! And it’s not my fault you haven’t been home in two months, so don’t put that on me.”

        “No,” he shook his head pointing a finger at her. “Don’t pull that shit on me. You knew about my job, you know how it can be, how much I have to travel.”

        “I get that, and I’d get your anger if I was fucking off with my friends on our anniversary without any notice or some shit, but I’m not! I made these plans ages ago. I told you about them! How could I have known you’d decide to ‘surprise’ me a week early?”

        But the thing for Harry was – he did think there was an anniversary to celebrate. It wasn’t an official one, and he hadn’t told Y/N how much the date meant, but that day was the day they’d met a year prior.

***

        He was in the middle of filming ‘Darling Don’t Worry’. This time they'd flown out of California to shoot a scene in the middle of the woods, in the cold of November, which as exciting as it was to have his acting career flourish, Harry wasn't too happy about freezing his ass off in the middle of nowhere.

Y/N, however, lived right next to those woods, her family house having been there for generations, while the location scouts of the movie had chosen the location because the aesthetic could double as the location of the woods behind the mansion.

        Y/N’d been out on her daily run (well, daily complaining because Y/N, with all her being, hated running, and thought it was a sign you were a masochist. But her best friend Adam loved running and hated going alone, so he bribed her with the promise of pizza afterwards), when they’d run into pitched white tents, filming equipment and barriers encasing a part of the path they were on.

        Adam’s eyebrows furrowed as he slowed his pace, and Y/N thanked god for that because she felt like she was about to pass out.

        “What’s going on here?”

        “Dunno,” Y/N huffed. “But we should probably leave.”

        But instead, Adam grabbed her by the bicep, dragging her forward to the set. “Nope. Come on.”

        “Adam!” she hissed. “What the fuck are you – “

        “Hi!” He flashed a woman standing by the railing a smile. “Could you-uh-tell us what’s going on? Why’s the path blocked?”

        “A movie’s being filmed. Sorry for the disturbance.”

        “Mhm, and when do you think you’ll be leaving?”

        That she hadn’t expected, given how typically when people saw a movie set, they’d be more than intrigued in getting into a shot or finding out about who were the stars, not when they’d be going away.

        “Oh, uh,” she stammered. “I’m not too sure. Depends if the snow starts falling and how much we manage to shoot. Sorry. But uh, would you be so kind and find a path around?”

        Y/N jumped in, flashing her a kind smile. “Yes, thank you. So sorry to have disturb –“

        “You do realise this is a public place?” Adam raised an eyebrow. “We have a right to be here.”

        “Adam, shut up,” Y/N groaned. “We can run around them, it’s not a big deal.”

        “But this is our route!”

        “Adam for fuck’s sake! It’s the woods, you don’t own them!”

        “Exactly!” he said. “And neither do they! They have no rights to infringe on our ability to get to the sea.”

        That’s when Harry had noticed her, and to this day Y/N had no clue as to why he’d fallen for her. He was conversing with Florence about the upcoming scene when his ears caught the very end of the conversation, green eyes snapping to where two people in running tracksuits stood.

        One of them was a tall burly man, muscles practically ripping apart his clothes at the seams, the other was a shorter woman, hands-on-hips, hair kept away by a headband which also covered her ears, and the most done expression on her face as she glared at her companion.

        They were talking with a nervous assistant; Harry could see by her stature and how her head kept snapping to the side in hopes of finding someone above her to deal with the two strangers.

        “Adam, I swear to god, I’ll punch you." Harry heard the woman exclaim. "Leave the girl alone! We can run around.”

        “But I –“

        “Adam!”

        “Fine,” he grumbled as he threw the assistant and apologetic look. “Sorry.”

        “ ‘S okay. Have my preferred cycling route as well, so yeah… Sorry.”

        Harry watched as the woman next to the person, Adam, shook her head and gestured to where the barriers curved around, starting up on a slow jog, and when they passed where he was standing by the trailers, he could hear them still arguing. 

        “Oh my god,” Harry heard her whisper while looking at the ground. “I’m friends with a fucking Karen.”

        “I am NOT a – you’re Harry Fucking Styles!” Adam shouted so hard, it startled Y/N, and when she looked over, it was like a deer in headlights before relaxing and both of them slowed their pace.

        “Sorry,” she gave him an awkward glance. “He’s a fan, but we’ll be going and stop bothering you...”

        “No, no,” Harry shook his head, putting his hands in his coat’s pockets and smiling. “ ‘S alright, you’re no bother. I’m always happy to talk to a fan.”

        “Yes, well, don’t encourage him. Soon enough, you’ll be besties, and Adam here’ll be turning your life into absolute chaos.”

        He scoffed looking down at his friend. “I’d like to think I’m taking you out of your boring routine, Y/N, and giving it some spice.”

        “Anyway,” she gritted out. “It was lovely to meet you, but uh, we should probably be on our way. You have to be somewhere.”

        Y/N’s eyes glanced over Harry’s shoulder, where a nervous AD stood, bouncing on her feet, a weary smile on her face as she caught the singer’s eyes and motioned with her head he was needed back on set.

        Harry nodded and wanted to turn back to tell the two to come by whenever they wanted (well mainly Y/N), but when he turned around, the two were already quite a few feet away. Just as he was about to leave, he heard Y/N shout, “Congratulations on the three Grammy nominations, by the way. ‘Fine Line’ was amazing.”

        “And that’s a compliment!” Adam hollered jogging backwards. “She only listens to shit from the early 2000s.”

        “Adam, shut up!”

        With that, Harry was left to watch the two disappear behind the trees, a feeling he was quite familiar with settling in his chest.

        It was three days later, when he saw Y/N approaching the set barriers, hands in her pockets, as she rolled her neck. Their eyes met, and even, from the distance, he could see her smile split apart her face, but when she just waved without the intention of coming any closer to the lot, Harry rushed to the side calling out to her. “Hey!” 

        “Hey!” Y/N responded chuckling and ducking her head down. “You alright?”

        “ ‘M alive. How ‘bout you? You doin’ fine?’”

        “The bar’s so low?”

        “I guess. Won’t be able to get you to nurse me back to health though, which is why I’m in the cold again.”

        She wiggled her eyebrows at Harry. “If you wanted to see me, there's no need to lose limbs or bits of yourself.”

        Harry hadn’t expected her to be so upfront, but he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t like it. Made it easier for him to understand if his advances were welcome or if he should back off. “So uh, no Adam today?”

        “No, he has a late shift at work. Which means I’m spared from the running.”

        “Not a fan?” he looked at her with a quirked brow, seemingly saying ‘you’re sure dressed like you are’.

        “Do I look like someone who likes stabbing pain in her side and having her heart ripped out of her chest?

        “You’re just not breathing properly.”

        Y/N sighed. “If one of you gives me any more advice about how to properly run when I don’t even want to run, I swear I’ll stab you.”

        “Okay!” he threw his hands up in surrender, laughing. “No more talk about running if I wanna keep my head on my shoulders. Where are you uh going? You don’t have to answer, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

        Y/N squealed on the inside, but bit her lip to keep the grin away. She’d been dying to talk to Harry since they’d briefly met but had no real reason. Not that she had one now, but she’d had a horrible day at work and needed to clear her head, and what was better than the forest air (also she could scream there without anyone really caring). “You’re not, so don’t worry. I’m uh I’m going to the sea.”

        Harry’s eyebrows rose. “There’s sea nearby?”

        “You’re like a fifteen-minute walk away from it,” she chuckled, stuffing her hands in her coat’s pockets. “Should really be more aware of your surroundings.”

        “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

        Y/N tilted her head. “Yeah, you’re kind of right. But it’s places like these where you can find the best spots.”

        “Will you show me then?”

        She looked at him with an unreadable expression, and he could only hope his nervousness wasn’t as apparent, because Harry was more than convinced his erratically beating heart could be heard miles away. But then she nodded, giving him a wide grin, making one of his own bloom on his face. 

“You sure you won’t freeze on your way there?” she said in a sarcastic tone eyeing him up and down, and Harry shoved her a bit.   

        He donned one of the standard down-jackets issued for the movie with winter boots, but given the costume underneath, he was chilled to the bone. “It’s bloody cold, and my toes are freezing off. How are you still standing?”

        “Insulated shoes and thermal clothes. Kinda boiling actually.”

        “I should steal ‘em.” He smiled at her. “Probably have frostbite by now.”

        “Wow, you people from the South UK really are weak.”

        Harry’s gasp made her smile as wide as a Cheshire cat. “How dare you!” He dramatically placed a hand on his chest, Y/N’s laughter erupting through the air. It cut through the yells and shouts from the filming crew, and made a warmth spread in his chest. “How do you know about the South versus North? You don’t sound like you’re from the UK.”

        “Studied there for three years; had loads of flatmates from all around, let alone course mates.” Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “And to say that I thrived on the chaos  was when you said North was better than the South would be an understatement.”

        “Well, I guess I know where your loyalties lie.”

        “Did you expect me to immediately swoon over you?” Y/N batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh, Mr Harry Styles. Your voice in ‘Kiwi’ was so good it fucked me to cloud nine. Will you please do that to me with your dick instead? Which you should take as a compliment again, considering kiwi is the only thing I’m allergic to.”

        “Wait,” he looked at her, eyebrows up to the middle of his forehead. “So you have heard my stuff?”

        “Well, I don’t live completely under a rock. I did say 'Fine Line' was amazing.”

        “But you don’t really like it?”

        Y/N shook her head. “ ‘S not that I don’t like yours or other pop stuff, ‘s just that I have a preference, and I guess it’s, as Adam said, ‘early 2000s shit’.”

        A sly smile appeared on Harry’s face. “But could that include by any chance 'One Direction'?”

        “Afraid not,” Y/N sighed giving him a pout. “When you came onto the scene, my heart was already taken by a boyband. And I can be a lot of things, but I most definitely a loyal bitch.”

        “One band at a time kind of gal?”

        “Exactly.” She beamed. God Harry had never wanted to kiss a person that bad. 

        “Duly noted, but I will need to know who they are, and how many graves do I have to dig? You know, for research purposes.”

        “Going method now?”

        “What’dya mean?”

        Y/N shrugged sniffling a bit from the frosty weather. “Looked up a little bit about the movie. Need to know what kind of people might be around in the area. Psychological thriller. Wife. Rich husband. A dark secret. My guess – someone’s dead and buried. Also, the huge pit we walked past was kind of a give-away.”

        He paused for a second before nodding. “Fair enough.”

        A comfortable silence fell between the two as Y/N motioned with her head to where they needed to turn and made their way onto a new path when she spoke. “ ‘S not that I wasn’t a fan,” Y/N shrugged glancing at Harry from the side. “The songs were really catchy, but I guess I got tired of them? Like they were on the radio so much, it was a relief I didn’t have to hear the five of you singing about how I don’t know I’m beautiful.”

        Harry threw his head back in a laugh. “Don’t worry. Sometimes we’d get sick of it ourselves. But umm, ‘Fine Line’… You said you liked it… Do ya’ have a favourite song?”

        Y/N cringed. “Is it cliché if I say ‘Golden’? Because it’s ‘Golden’. I’m a sucker for a slow and then a ‘bam!’ kind of an opening.”

        Harry shook his head. Now he was the one biting back a grin. “ ‘S not cliché. Was one of my favourites to write, so I’m glad you appreciate it.”

        “Also, it makes me feel sunny? If that makes sense? Like – like when I listen to it, I feel warm and safe and just happy...”

        He’d be lying if he said his heart wasn’t pounding in his chest at her words. Warm. Safe. Sunny. “Well,” Harry cleared his throat to keep the words ‘One day I’ll marry you’ at bay. Fuck, he'd only known her for like twenty minutes! “I’m glad you like it more than my previous stuff.”

        “You just love putting me in uncomfortable situations, don’t you?”

        He smiled, nudging her shoulder with his, and was just about gearing up to take a breath and ask Y/N out (before he could ask to marry her), when quick steps from behind him drew their attention. 

        Dressed in a typical 50s housewife dress with a black coat on top, Florence Pugh came to stand beside them, and Harry swore he saw mischief twinkle in her eyes as she raked them over both people and then settled on Harry’s companion.

        “Hi!” she said giving Y/N a bright smile, and a wink to Harry, which passed the other girl’s head, given how she was absolutely fangirling right now. “I’m Florence.”

        “I – yeah – I – you – I love you,” Y/N finally breathed out. “Fuck, I just, you know, 'Midsommar' was a fever dream, but I absolutely loved it, and I can’t wait for 'Black Widow' to come out. Oh my god, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

        “Please don’t.” She laughed grabbing onto Y/N’s shoulder. “Feels like I already know you, but I’ve been dying to meet you actually. Created quite the commotion yesterday.”

        You know how they say men can think of absolutely nothing, like have a completely blank page in their head? Yeah, Y/N was having that exact moment. 

        Florence tutted crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Harry with mock disappointment. “But Harry here just kept talking about you, without any intention of inviting you to the trailers, so I had to take things into my own hands.”

        “You’ve been wanting to meet me?” Y/N breathed out, hands going into her hair, looking at Harry. “Oh my god, what is happening? Am I hallucinating?”

        “No, you’re not,” Harry grumbled glaring at Florence. “Unfortunately. But we were on our way to the sea, so I’ll see you back on se-“

        “Hello there,” Chris Pine’s smooth voice interrupted them, as he extended a hand for Y/N to shake as he jogged up to the trio. “I’m Chris.”

        “Wow, your eyes are even bluer in real life.” Her own Y/E/C ones widened. “Did I just say that out loud?”

        “You did,” Chris chuckled, “but I most certainly take it as a compliment. You said you were going to the sea?”

        “Uh, yeah,” Y/N breathed out still gazing into Pine’s eyes. “Wanna join?”

        Harry wanted to scream, but he couldn’t really. As much he wanted to tell both Florence and Chris to go away, he didn't. Seeing Y/N’s eyes light up as the two other actors conversed with her, laughed and joked around, made his heart expand.

        It was insane to him, that a woman he’d seen twice in his life could have such a huge impact. It was like she’d been his missing part. Well, no. Harry didn’t like that notion – that the ‘right’ person would complete someone. People were complete on their own, but it was true to him that there was someone out there that’d make each and every moment special, someone who would help the other become better, but also hold them accountable when needed. 

        They wandered around the seashore, which like Y/N had said, was a fifteen-minute walk, for about half an hour before turning back to the woods.

        By that point, she’d somewhat calmed down, and could actually comprehend what Chris and Florence were saying to her, and it was rather enjoyable to ask all the questions about Hollywood and the industry most people wouldn’t say on the record. 

        At around four PM when all of them got back to set and Olivia came to tell them they were wrapping up for the day, Florence, and Chris split from Y/N, telling her to come by whenever she wanted, while Harry said he’d walk her to the end of the trail.

        “You know I’ll be fine. I grew up here, know these paths like the back of my hand.”

        “ ‘S alright,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure they won’t mind much if I come back ten minutes later.”

        “You know, you’re not how I thought you’d be.”

        “What’dya mean?”

        “I – I don’t even really know… just not how I imagined you.”

        Harry didn’t know what to really do with that information, but the look on Y/N’s face most definitely didn’t seem like she meant it in a bad way. In fact, her shy smile and fleeting glances told him otherwise. At least he hoped he read her features right.

        They said goodbye with soft ‘see you laters' and he watched her throw one last glance at him over her shoulder before he himself retreated and ventured to the trailers to start de-shedding the character of Jack for the night.

        Harry plopped down in his seat with a groan, fishing out his phone from the pocket while the hair and make-up team did their work, taking the products off his face before applying moisturiser to the stressed skin.

        Florence poked him in the cheek, and he swatted away at her hand, looking up from Instagram (or his attempts to find Y/N with just knowing her first name). “What’s wrong?” she asked, poking his pouting face again.

        “She literally fangirled about everyone but me.” He huffed sliding down even further in his seat. 

        Florence raised an eyebrow. “Jealous, Styles?”

        “No,” he scoffed crossing his arms. “Why would I be jealous?”

        “Because literally both mornings that we've got here, you’ve been fidgety, keeping a watch of the path, and didn't calm down until Y/N appeared just now. So I’d say you’re absolutely smitten with the girl and are jealous because she’s more of a fan of us than you.”

        “I know she likes me.” His eyebrows furrowed. “I think. She hasn’t told me to fuck off.”

        “She’s a stranger you met in the middle of the woods. You should hope she likes you. But not too much. Otherwise, it could so easily become a scene out of a horror movie.”

        Chris bit his lip looking at Olivia, who’d come in the trailer after having seen the group come back with an almost heartbroken gaze – it was clear as a summer’s day Harry was struck by the girl, but they had to face the music. “Harry,” he started. “You – you do realise we end filming here in two weeks, right? And she’s a local.”

        “And?” his eyebrows furrowed at Chris’ words.

        “You’ll be leaving in two weeks for another three months of filming, while she stays here. I don’t – I don’t want to see you hurt, but you have to realise that most likely nothing will happen.”

        “And what makes you say that? Maybe she could come with.”

        “Y/N is her own person with her own life, job and friends, which, as it seems is all set here.”

        “Besides you don't really even know her,” Olivia said as well. “It's been two days."

        “Sometimes a day is enough.”

        A silence settled over them, as Harry tapped his phone against his nails.

        “You guys, come on!” Florence came to his defence. “He likes her. Why not give it a shot?”

He'd flashed her a thankful smile and mouthed a 'thank you' to which she just gave him an encouraging nod. She was on his side. She believed he could do it. And he did. Using Florence's faith in him as a catalyst, a day later when Y/N had gone on her run with Adam, Harry had excused himself and joined the two. 

        Adam was thrilled to the bone, but he was also competitive, so after ten minutes of trying to persuade the woman to run faster so he could beat his previous time, he took off on his own, with a promise of meeting up by the shore. That’s when Harry grabbed Y/N by her bicep and stalled them both, confusion written all over her features.

        “I uh,” he started. “I wanted to ask you something.”

        “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

        “I – “ he stuttered taking in a deep breath. “I – uh – and you have zero obligations to respond, but uh – I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me sometime?”

        That made Y/N do a double-take. “You want to go out? On a date? With me?”

        “Ye – yeah.” It was uncertain how the word came out, but it felt so good to say it. “Yes, I really do.”

        “Sorry.” She shook her head looking at the ground with furrowed brows. “Sorry’s just, kinda hard to believe it.”

        “ ‘Nd why’s that?”

        “Well because the first time we met, I looked like a sweaty mess, the second, I could barely function around your friends and co-workers, and now, well now I look like a sweaty mess again.”

        “So?”

        “I just –” Y/N laughed but waved him off. “Never mind.”

         Fear instantly took hold of his core at her statement, so he rushed to salvage what could be salvaged. “No, I mean if you don’t want, you - you don’t have to say ‘yes’. I’m not gonna be upset or any –“

        “Harry!” This time Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder to stop his ramblings. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

        “You – you would?”

        “Yes.” Her smile blinded him like the golden rays of sun which broke through the overcast sky. “I’d like to very much so.”

        But it was Y/N’s tearful huff, a storm cloud compared to the warm light from his memories, which brought him out of the fond thoughts and into the icy right now.

        “Because unless it revolves around Harry Styles, it doesn’t matter, right?” she let out a pained laugh. “Because unless he’s there to have all the spotlight on him, it’s not important. Unless it’s not something he wants to take part in, it immediately needs to be cancelled or rescheduled because god forbid someone made plans without him.”

        He grunted in disagreement. “You know that’s not what I meant!”

        “No,” she snapped, snatching her purse and coat. “I get it. Very clearly. I’ll show myself out.”

        “Don’t be so dramatic!”

        She scoffed, glaring at him. “Call me when you get your head out of your ass.”

        The door slammed shut, and Harry sat down onto the sofa to scream into a pillow.

***

        Y/N’s sight was blurry as she drove down the street. A light snow had started to fall over London, so she was twice as careful, knowing Londoners had zero clue how to function when snow hit, and no one had winter tires.

        “Fuck,” she choked out, wiping away at her cheeks.

        She’d had fights with Harry before, it wasn’t like they were perfect. From the outside they looked like nothing could ever be wrong, but they were human. They had flaws and tempers and ideas and beliefs, and sometimes they clashed, but it’d never been as bad as it was that night. 

        She loved Harry, Y/N truly did. She’d even had dreams of the two of them in some far-off cottage in the Italian mountains living a domestic life, but she also just wanted one night to herself. To let loose and think about her own needs and wants, while Harry was away doing the same. It wasn’t selfish, not in her mind. 

        It’d been her who’d uprooted her whole life to be closer to Harry, not the other way around. She was always the one cancelling and making new plans with her family or friends just so she could spend a spare second with Harry. She was there for his sleepless nights and there for his knock-out concerts. Why couldn't he let her have this one thing?

        She was sitting by the wheel at a red light taking in deep breaths to calm herself down. 

        The light turned green, and her hand was slightly shaking as she changed gears.

        Y/N released the clutch and pressed down on the gas.

        Two lights came rushing from the side.

        She gasped.

        A sharp pain went through her side.

        And then it was all black.

***

Anne was going to rip Harry a new one, as she rang him for the fifteenth time, but he still didn't pick up. After the accident and the nurses being unable to contact Harry, they obviously called Y/N’s parents which were next on the emergency contact's list, but given how they lived outside of the UK and the next flight was only in four days, they immediately reached out to Anne, begging for her to go be with their daughter while they got there.

“And please tell Harry to fly over as well!” Y/N’s mum had cried. “I – I know he has work, but please.”

Anne had been shocked to hear Y/M/N ask that, having assumed he was already there, but she wasn’t going to let them get to Harry before she set him straight herself. 

In the beginning, she’d been kind of sceptical, but after spending an evening together where Y/N, her and Gemma all did wine baking, and it had ended up in a disaster in the kitchen with the three of them crying from laughter while Harry stood at the entrance completely baffled and just so done with them, Anne knew Y/N only had good intentions with her son.

        Anne’s love for her only grew from that point on, when she also realised just how much Y/N’s love language was giving. It wasn’t the kind of ‘hey, look, I bought you some fancy thing, now love me’, it was ‘hey, I saw how much you wanted this, I noticed how much it’d mean to you, and I love how happy it makes you. And if it reminds you of me, that’s just a bonus’, and Anne couldn’t help but become as protective of Y/N as her own kids. 

        But at that moment, as finally, after her twenty-seventh attempt, Harry picked up with a gruff ‘ ‘ello?’, Anne was about to burst with rage.

“You get to the hospital right now!” she hissed into the phone.

“What are you talking about?” There was a tremble in his voice. 

The thing was, for two days since Y/N had stormed out, Harry’d been feeling sick. He thought it was due to the stress from the fight and from the pressure his label was putting on him, but now he understood it wasn’t that. It was his instinct telling him something bad had happened, and at Anne’s words, the bad feeling that’d settled in his stomach made his blood run cold. “Mum, what’s wrong?”

“Y/N was in a car accident, and you didn’t bother to pick up your phone.”

“I –” He stammered unable to process her words. “What? Mum? No…”

“You’re her emergency contact,” Anne spoke. “The hospital tried to call you a billion times, and you didn’t pick up.” 

And that’s when he remembered all of those calls from unknown numbers. He thought they’d been some crazed fans who’d gotten his personal number, so he’d just blocked them. “Mum, no.” Harry choked out. “I didn’t mean to – we fought – mum…”

“She’s at St. Helen’s. Please get here.”

He immediately ended the call, and in the span of twenty minutes was at the hospital, which Anne was sure to scold him for because there was no way in hell anyone who didn’t speed would be able to get to St. Helen’s in less than forty minutes. The second she saw her son burst through the door, tear tracks down his face, all the anger and disappointment vanished. 

“Where is she? Is she alive? Y/N!” he yelled across the hallway. “Where is she? Mum! Where’s Y/N?”

“Gem.” She patted her daughter’s knee as both of them stood up from where they’d been sitting at the chairs outside the recovery room assigned to Y/N. “Get a nurse, please.”

Gemma didn’t need an explanation or reasoning seeing Harry’s wild eyes, erratic breathing and shaky hands. 

“Mum!” He practically sprinted after seeing the woman, grabbing her by the shoulders.

“Calm down, Harry,” she shushed him, pulling him in for a hug and feeling his whole body tremble. “Calm down, it’s alright. Gem’ll get you some help, but you need to breathe.”

“I – I’m not the one who needs help!” Harry pretty much screamed. “I need to know if my girlfriend is alive.”

Anne spoke in a calm voice as to not agitate him even more, and her heart broke at the sight of her son so utterly broken. “Harry, you’re about to have a panic attack, and you’re no use to Y/N in that kind of state.”

“So.” He took in a chocked back breath. “So she’s alive?” He didn’t know what he’d do if the answer was anything else but a resounding ‘yes’. There was no version in his brain of where his life could possibly lead but down if he had to go on without Y/N.

“Yes,” Anne nodded, smoothing his hair away from his face, and watching as he took in a deep breath of relief. “She was just wheeled in for her second surgery. Should be out in about four hours. ”

All over again his insides froze. “Second? Mum, tell me the truth – how bad is it?”

“Harry, this is routine,” Gemma put a reassuring hand on his shoulder having returned with a nurse behind her, the man keeping a close eye on Harry and his behaviour. “They did as much as they could the first time, but their priority was on the worst injuries. This one is just to set things properly.”

“Set everything right like – “

“Like bones and stuff…” Gemma shuddered, trailing off. “Y/N broke her hip, dislocated her kneecap, her ankle was shattered and she fractured her collarbone. They took her in so that the bones could be properly placed together and there’s a lesser chance of complications not only while healing but later on in life. But can you please sit down? So they can help you as well?”

“I – alright,” he conceded, taking a place on one of the stiff plastic benches, as the nurse came to him, took his pulse, gave him an inhalator just in case and some herbal tablets to help him relax a bit.

“You said they focused on the worst injuries.” Harry looked at his mother. “What were those?”

Anne sighed, leaning to sit back on the chair next to him and ran a hand through his hair. “A piece of debris punctured one of her kidneys. The bleeding was pretty intense, but they say it was salvageable, so she’ll still have both of them. Gem donated some blood.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, looking over at his sister who wiped a stray tear away from his cheek.

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to thank me for. Y/N is family. If she’d lost the kidney, I’d give her mine in a second.”

“The worst they’re worried about is the head injuries,” Anne said. “Luckily, she got away without anything major, but she definitely has a concussion and minor whiplash to her neck, so they want to keep an eye out for any side effects that could arise. They have another surgery scheduled for her in a week if recovery goes as planned. To take the stitches that won’t dissolve out and put in the ones that will.”

        Harry sagged against his mother’s side, her palms soothingly running up and down his back. “She’s gonna be alright, love,” Anne muttered in his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. “She’s strong. She’ll be okay.”

        It was comforting for both of them – for Anne to have her youngest in her arms, to know he was safe and sound, and for Harry to be held by his mother, the person who always knew how to comfort him when times were rough, and at that moment, they were the roughest they’d ever been.

        “You’ve got some nerve to be here.” Adam’s seething voice pulled Harry away from his mother’s embrace and watched as he rounded the corner with a coffee cup. He was quite sure he was keeping his temper well in check from how hard he was gripping the Styrofoam cup. “Fucking ignore her for two days while she’s laying in the hospital, and appear when it’s convenient for you? Is she some fucking toy for you to use when you want?”

        Anne’s tone was consoling and pleading. “He didn’t know.”

        “The hell he didn’t, he just didn’t want to know! They called you!” Adam pointed at the nurse’s desk. “And you let them go to voicemail. And then, better yet, you fucking blocked the number.”

        “I didn’t know it was the hospital,” he weakly defended himself.

        “Because you didn’t bother to find out.”

        He didn’t have anything to say to that. And not that he really could think of anything when the surgery ward’s doors swung open and they watched as a nurse wheeled Y/N’s gurney back inside the room, while another wheeled her saline bag along with. 

It was a terrifying sight to see. Her face was basically nothing but a swollen piece of flesh, bruises and scratches littering her cheeks, a neck brace to keep her head from moving while one leg was wrapped in a full-on cast, the other in one up until her knee and her left arm was in a sling.

        He’d had nightmares about her before. Most of the times it was about Y/N leaving him because she could no longer do it, could no longer commit to the hectic lifestyle that came with Harry, and as he screamed, banging on the invisible window that separated them, she just walked away, his sobs carried by the wind in the other direction.

        “You should go inside,” Anne whispered motioning with her head to where the nurses checked the monitors and how stable Y/N was. “I know you had a fight, but she’ll want you to be there when she wakes up.”

        “How,” Harry gulped back the lump that’d risen in his throat. “How do you know? How do you know she doesn’t want me to just disappear? I wasn’t there when she needed me, I was – “

        Anne put her hand on his cheek. “Because when she woke up yesterday morning for the first time, you were the first person she asked for. You. She wants you there. And it’s the least you can do for her.”

        He nodded, then took a deep breath and entered Y/N’s room. Watching her lay in the bed, unmoving, without her usual grumpy features as she slept, made Harry sick to the stomach so much so, he thought he’d have to call back the nurse.

        It was some twisted version of Sleeping Beauty, yet he knew a true loves kiss wouldn’t awaken her. Y/N just laid there, small breaths making her chest rise and fall, not even a flutter of her eyelids.

        Harry had spent countless night watching her sleep, looking at how her lashes fluttered as she dreamed of something; how her forehead creased and small, incoherent noises passed her lips as she talked to someone in her mind.

        Now, he was surrounded by none of that, only artificial reminders that she was still alive and fighting to get better.

        With uneven steps, Harry made his way to the chair which’d been stationed next to her bed (he was convinced beyond belief that Gemma, his mum and Adam had all taken shifts to sit there, to be there for Y/N), and much like a king who knew he was unfit for the throne, Harry had to swallow a lump as he took the seat.

        “I – I don’t know if you can hear me…” Harry took hold of Y/N’s palm and let out a sob of relief when he felt it was warm, not cold like he’d feared. “But I’m here for you. I’m not leaving. Not unless you want me to, so until you wake up…” there were so many words, so many apologies he wanted to say, but kept them at bay. Y/N deserved to hear them when she was conscious, so instead, he said, “I’m here, lovie. Get some rest, I’ll be here…”

        With that he put his head on the side of her bed, twisting his face so he could look up at her, watch her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm, and fell asleep to the sound the beeps of Y/N’s beating heart.

        While he slept he dreamt again, the same terrifying dream of Y/N leaving, only this time she did look back at him, but her face was all wrong, her neck bent in a way it shouldn’t be, and eyes covered in a milky white. 

        “You weren’t there, Harry,” she said in a voice void of emotions. “So why should I be there for you?”

        Harry was 100% sure if he’d been hooked up to a heart rate monitor while he slept, people would think he was going into cardiac arrest, but it sure would’ve shown it flatlining as his green eyes swept over his lover’s frame to check his nightmare hadn’t become a reality, only to be met with two Y/E/C sparkling orbs looking back at him, giving him the softest gaze in the universe.

“Hey,” Harry’s tone was quiet, afraid to bring even the littlest of discomfort to Y/N given her state, and he had to physically restrain himself from sweeping down to bring her in a hug. 

What he saw on her face made his heart leap to his throat, as she smiled, genuinely happy to see him, lifting up her right hand, the only limb without a bandage on to cup his cheek. “Hey, love.” Her voice was scratchy like nails on a chalkboard, but to Harry, it was an absolute symphony. “Are you alright? Your eyes are puffy. Have you been getting enough sleep?”

        “Fuck,” Harry choked on his tears looking up at the white ceiling before back at her, complete disbelief in his blood-shot eyes. “You’re the one lying in a hospital bed, with casts and bandages all over you, scheduled for a third surgery, and you’re asking me if I’m alright?”

        If Y/N could, she would’ve shrugged as if that wasn’t the most self-explanatory thing in the world. “I’ll always want to know if you’re alright. ‘S not exclusively you that can care for people, you know.”

        And there she was – his sarcastic, allergic-to-kiwi-but-‘Kiwi’-loving girl that never ceased to amaze him, as she made sure everyone else was alright before herself. And that made Harry break down. 

“I’m so sorry Y/N. So fucking sorry. I – god – I – there are not enough words in any language to say how fucking sorry I am. I should’ve been here, should’ve never let you leave. This is all my fault.”

Through all that, through his choked back sobs and crying, Y/N’s hand had steadily remained on his cheek, wiping away the tears from underneath one eye before switching to the other side and making the little pearls of hurt disappear with just her touch. 

“Harry, are you the weatherman?”

That was not what he thought she would say. “I – what?”

“Do you control temperatures and have not told me?”

“N – no?”

“Were you the guy who ran the red light?”

“No.”

        “Then how is this your fault?”

        “I – “ he stammered. “I shouldn’t have let you leave. I should’ve gone after you, found a way to make you stay or – or should’ve fucking stopped being so selfish and driven you to see Adam yourself.”

        “Harry, had you tried to make me stay nothing would’ve changed.” Y/N sighed letting him lean into her touch, as she bit her lip, thinking over her words. “I was just so pissed, that I think anything you would’ve tried to do, would’ve only made it worse. And I’d rather be here with you than alone in my apartment crying in a tub of Hagen Dazs because of a broken heart.”

        “You-you've got your priorities completely backwards.” He wasn’t laughing when he said that, but Y/N was.

        “Maybe.” She raised her eyebrow. “But I don’t think so. The bones will heal, but the amount of love I have for you… I’m afraid you’ve ruined the thought of a future without you in it. We’ll talk,” Y/N swallowed hard. “We need to talk, but when I get better. Right now, I just wanna hold your hand and have you hold mine as I try not to kick the nurses trying to take my blood for tests.”

        It felt inappropriate for Harry to smile, to feel happy about how Y/N hadn’t told him to go screw himself, even though he felt like he deserved it, but fuck was it impossible not to when his body felt so light, and her love chose to invade the dark corners of his mind to fill it with golden warmth.

        She fell asleep not long after their small conversation, body too tired and in need of recovery, but like he’d promised, he was there for her when she awoke again, this time to a more familiar Y/N as she glared at the coffee cup in his hand, while he sipped, a ring clad palm gently pushing away strands of Y/H/C hair from her face.

        “I hate that you can drink coffee.”

        “Yeah, and why’s that?”

        “Because I can’t.”

        “I’ll happily buy you as many coffees as you like. Once you get better and are allowed to, of course.”

        Y/N snorted and then winced as the action caused pain to shoot through her body. “Knowing you, it won’t be a cup of coffee or a coffee machine, but a fucking coffee chain restaurant.”

        “Would it be that bad to own one?”

        Her eyebrow rose at him in an incredulous look. “You know I can’t bake. Coffee shops include pastries, and I’m not the one who worked in a bakery. I can cook, I can clean, but make me make muffins from scratch, and I’ll set your house on fire.”

        “You already did.” Harry laughed. “Gem and mum helped.”

        “They supplied the wine, so I’m putting 60% of the blame on them.”

        “You do realise that equates to 30% of the blame on each of them, and most of it is still on you?”

        “Shut up,” Y/N smiled, weakly pushing against Harry’s arm, but the motion made him happy to know she was trying. “I was just in a car crash, so forgive me for not being that great at division.”

        A knock at the door made Harry look up, Y/N not even attempting to turn her head to see who’d interrupted them, given how the first time she’d tried it with the neck-brace, it’d hurt so bad she’d passed out.

        Her doctor was a man in his mid to late fifties with greying hair, Y/N’s medical record file slapped underneath his arm.

        “How are we doing today?”

        “Better than yesterday, I guess,” she responded. 

        “Well, you were out for most of it, so I’d say so.”

        Y/N and the doctor chuckled, but Harry didn’t, as he thought of how bad, how absolutely tired a person has to be to sleep for a whole day. He’d had those days himself, and that was from being exhausted from work. He couldn't imagine what being in a bloody accident would feel like. 

        The doctor stepped forward a bit and extended a hand to Harry, introducing himself as Dr Tate, while Harry rose in his seat to accept it, but not wanting to move away an inch from Y/N.

        “You must be the boyfriend.”

        “I – uh – I can only hope I still am,” he let out a nervous giggle, which made his girlfriend slap his arm, a furrow on her face.

        Dr Tate looked Harry over from head to toe, eyebrow raised at that, but all he said was, “We tried to contact you, seeing as you’re Miss Y/L/N emergency contact, but the nurses said it couldn’t go through.”

        “He was filming overseas.” Y/N butted in, clearly having rehearsed what to say beforehand. “Flew over as fast as he could. I’m the luckiest person in the world.” Her tone was soft as a feather, but Harry’s stomach felt like it was filled with rocks. 

        “Is there anything I can help with?” he asked hoping to be given some sort of a task to do, to allow him to redeem himself some way.

        “Well, actually yes. One of the injuries Ms Y/L/N sustained was a concussion,” the doctor said, “which could lead to some complications like headaches, migraines, spotty vision or amnesia.”

“Amnesia?” Harry wanted to vomit. It had crossed his mind, but having a professional say it made it all so much worse. 

        “Yes, and we’d need someone to be with her as much as possible, 24/7 would be desirable, to keep an eye on.”

        Harry honestly hadn’t heard anything past the amnesia part, mind spinning in a circle that just screamed ‘she’ll forget all about you’.

“It’s nothing to worry about too much.” Dr Tate was quick on his feet, seeing Harry’s blank stare, and tried to diffuse any possible spiralling. “With Y/N’s cognitive abilities and having repeatedly excelled at the test without a single stutter, it’s very unlikely she’ll have those side effects. 

“But it’s still a possibility, right?”

The doctor nodded, giving Harry a kind smile. “Which is why I’m informing you of it. To keep an eye out to see if anything changes so you could come in if necessary. But as I said – Y/N’s memory has proven to be intact so far. And I always say to trust the facts.”

“Harry,” Y/N placed her hand on his. “You know I won’t forget you.”

“I’ll uh, give you two a second.” The doctor exited leaving them alone, an almost sad silence over both of them. 

“God I almost lost you to some idiot running a red light with no winter tires, and now you won’t remember me. And – and even with everything you’re going through, you’re still trying to protect me? Why did you lie? I – I wouldn’t have cared if you said the truth that I was an asshole.” Harry dragged both hands over his face, trying to keep the cry’s at bay as Y/N ran her hand through his hair in an attempt to calm him down.

“I’d prefer to think,” Y/N shrugged trying to tease him and make him crack a smile, “me being dead would be the worst-case scenario, not me forgetting you. And of course, I’ll protect you. Your reputation matters to me. Just because we had a fight doesn’t mean I’ll immediately run to everyone I can and say how shitty of a person you were in those specific ten minutes.”

But Harry’s lips didn’t quirk up, the tears didn’t disappear as the painful grimace on his face wasn’t replaced by the crow lines next to his eyes from smiling so much. “What if you – what if you forget you love me? What do I do then? I know I sound selfish and like the biggest fucking dick, but as pathetic as it is – I can’t go on without you. I don’t know how I could.”

Y/N’s heart broke at his words because if the roles were reversed if Harry forgot about her and fell out of love, she didn't know how she'd survive. She’d had those fears before, when he was away filming and she couldn’t follow; she’d been terrified because what they’d had was so new, he could easily move on, find someone better, someone who was familiar with his lifestyle. But any time those thoughts came to her mind, Y/N reminded herself of what she’d do. And that’s what she told Harry.

        “Then you make me fall in love with you again. You’re great at that. Make me love you more with every passing moment.”

        “And – and if you don’t fall in love with me again?”

        Y/N shook her head. “Impossible, Harry. You made me fall in love with you after barely two hours spent together. And well, if you put your mind to it… who knows how much deeper I’ll fall.”

        For the first time in two days, Harry leaned down and pressed his lips against Y/N’s. The kiss was soft and sweet, a barely-there touch, but it meant everything. It was a promise to one another to love unconditionally, to remind the other of it at every passing moment; it sealed their future to be spent together, and neither wanted it any other way.

        Harry’s phone rang, eliciting a whine from Y/N as he pulled away to answer it. “It’s Florence.” He pecked her lips one more time. “I’ll just tell her to call back.”

        He turned to the side for a second muttering a soft ‘hey, can you –‘ before whatever Florence told him made him pull away and extend the deivice towards Y/N.

        “It’s for you.”

        “For – for me? Florence is calling me?”

        Had the two women become friends? Yes. But didn’t mean Y/N had an easier time not fangirling about her. 

        “Hi, Flo,” she breathed out, looking at Harry with wide, happy eyes. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

        Harry sat there watching as his love talked to someone she looked up to, and someone he cared about. He hadn’t told Florence, but her encouragement meant the world to him, as she was partially the reason he’d gotten together with Y/N. After all, she’d been the one on his side from the very beginning.

        Y/N giggled like a crazy person after the call ended and she handed Harry back his phone. “Florence Pugh just called to give me well wishes.” She gasped looking at Harry. “Do you think Chris Pine will too?”

        “God, I love you,” Harry laughed with her, pressing their foreheads together.

        They’d be alright, they’d make sure of it. No matter if a disagreement arose, egos needed to be put in check or black ice covered the roads. They’d get through anything. 

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog​ @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: Listen, Linda, those pictures of Harry on set does things!!!

Also the being allergic to kiwi - that’s me. Like legit it’s the only thing I’m allergic to. I always hated how they tasted like pain, like it made my mouth sting and feel like pins and needles before going numb, and according to professionals, that’s a sign of being allergic. But I love ‘Kiwi’ the song. 

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry :(

[misora-msby]

scarred love.

rating : mature

word count : 4.3k

themes : angst, slight fluff, implied and mentions of sex

notes : based on vistlip’s CLASSIC OPERA // this is my first work on this blog, i hope you enjoy!

“I don’t think he loves me anymore.”

“No way… That’s not the case, I’m sure!”

“That’s what I want to think but…”

Suna could barely believe as he stood outside the bedroom door, hand barely making contact with the handle. Was that really what you thought? 

“I wonder if it’s normal for couples to fall out of love at this stage.”

“Mm… there’s certainly been couples I’ve known like that. They were in love for years but after they got married they decided it wasn’t the life for them and divorced.”

Suna heard your gasp follow the tinny voice from the phone. He had heard of similar stories before but never thought it would happen to him and you. 

Ever since you had gotten together, he was always subtle in his love. He was never the type to outright say “I love you” in public or to boldly proclaim his love for you on social media. Suna preferred linking pinkies while walking or to post photos of your study dates with simple captions like “another ‘10 minute break’” or “we are going to collapse”. 

Despite this, when you were in the privacy of your apartment, he almost never left your side. It was either his head on your lap, his legs laying over yours on the couch, or you sitting on his lap in some way albeit still being relatively quiet. 

So to think you were getting upset with the little attention he was showing recently had him confused. Wasn’t he always like this?

“But Y/N, I doubt Suna-san’s fallen out of love. Isn’t it just that his new job with EJP Raijin is keeping him busy?” 

“Y-Yeah but… he hasn’t said anything about it. He comes back late and leaves early and it just… It just sucks so much! I don’t know what to do!” you sob and Suna can hear the sound of you blowing your nose and coughing through your tears. 

Taking a step back from the bedroom door, the middle blocker moved to the couch and sat for a moment, head in his hands. He knew love couldn’t be perfect. A perfect relationship without fights or problems was just waiting to crumble from the slightest crack in it. But he wanted to at least prevent you from thinking this way. 

He wanted you to know he did love you. 

Later that night, he crawled into the bed, freshly showered and in his pyjamas - an old thin t-shirt and a pair of boxers. You laid beside him in your own pyjamas - one of his big t-shirts and a pair of shorts. 

“Y/N,” he turned onto his side and called your name, causing you to almost jump while attempting to fall asleep with your swirling thoughts.

“Yes, Rin?” 

“You have a free day tomorrow too, don’t you?”

“Well… yes. Why?”

The bed shifted under his movement to hold himself over you. 

“W-Wait a second! Rin! I’m not prepared or anything- mmf!” 

He pressed his lips to yours, his fox-like eyes shut delicately as he kissed you passionately. Before you knew it, his hands moved to your sides and began to lift the edge of the shirt up, but were quickly pushed down. 

“Rintarou,” you lightly pushed on his chest, “I uh… I’m not wearing any nice underwear… A-And I haven’t shaved. Can I go change and do that?” 

Honestly you were very surprised that he suddenly wanted to do this. Suna was always one to do things out of the blue; your relationship was built on impromptu dates and spontaneous gifts he claimed ‘reminded him of you’, but this really had came out of nowhere. 

You hadn’t been intimate in weeks and you wanted to at least look good for it, but Suna just shook his head. 

“You’re fine like this. I love you however you look.” He leaned back down and began to place kisses along your jaw and neck. 

His kisses were softer than usual, you noted. And his hands weren’t rushing to tear your clothes off like he usually did.

“Rin- ah! Rintarou, why are you doing this all of a sudden?”

“We’re both free tomorrow. Can’t I spend my free day with my girlfriend the way I want to?” he asked, looking up at you through his thin lashes. 

“Still! That gives me more time to go get ready.”

“No,” he shook his head and continued to kiss and bite along your neck and collarbones, leaving his marks of love on your skin, “I want to spend every second that I can with you now that I have the time.”

“Wait a second.”

Suna finally pulled his lips away from your skin, now littered with little marks, “What’s wrong?”

“Since when were you so romantic? It just… Don’t get me wrong, I’m super happy it’s just a little funny…” 

His eyes widened at the sight of tears welling up in your eyes.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asked, cupping your face in his large rough hands gently. 

“I’m more than okay! No… I don’t know why I’m crying…” you sob softly, rubbing at your eyes. 

Suna chuckled lightly. “Is it because you’re filled with overwhelming love for me?”

“Rintarou!” you whined and hit his chest lightly. “You’re absolutely insufferable!”

“You say that but you were the one who asked me out on our graduation.” 

“...you little shit. I really do love you.” 

“Mm, I thought so. I love you too.” He continued to kiss and strip you.

Unlike your usual nights together which were spent fucking roughly, leaving bodies sore and lightly scarred, tonight was slow and loving albeit passionate as ever. Soft kisses and laughs were exchanged in the dark as Suna made love to you, thrusting slowly while mumbling words of love into your body. 

The next morning, you were woken up by the feeling of a kiss on your forehead. Your eyelids fluttered open and you squinted in the morning light to see Suna sitting on his side of the bed, clad only in boxers. There was also the scent of eggs and toast, and when you looked down, you saw it sitting on a plate between you two.

“I’m no Osamu here. But I think my cooking is still edible,” your boyfriend sighed before flopping down onto the bed beside you and closing his eyes. 

“You actually woke up to cook for me?” you asked, sitting up to look at the sunny-side-ups with broken yolks and the toast that was just a little too toasted for your liking. 

“Surprised myself too,” he yawned before squinting his eyes open, “More like… I wanted to surprise you. And wake you up with a kiss.”

“You’re so cheesy today, aren’t you!”

“I know, I think it’s weird too.”

On that day, you knew he still loved you. And you loved him more than ever before.

But that happiness couldn’t last forever. In the city of Tokyo where sadness and troubles rained down, something was bound to happen. Even the most heavily cemented cracks could once again break under a heavy enough pressure. 

Even if it took a couple of months.

“Rintarou! Welcome home!”

“Mm.”

Your brow furrowed slightly as you noticed his short answer. After shutting your laptop where you were answering some work related emails while waiting for your boyfriend, you made your way over to Suna who was hanging his winter coat by the door.

“Rin, are you alright?”

“Just tired.”

You sighed softly, “You shouldn’t overwork yourself. You need breaks sometimes too, you know?” And reached up to begin massaging his shoulders as you usually did. But he only pushed your hands away quickly, saying, “Not tonight,” before walking further into the apartment.

You bit your lower lip to prevent it from trembling any further while your hands stayed still as if frozen mid air. You were hesitating to tell him what you wanted to say earlier.

“Rintarou… Tomorrow you don’t have scheduled practice, right? I…” you took a deep breath as he turned to face you, eyes dark and heavy-looking. 

“Yeah.”

“I was wondering… Well, I don’t have work tomorrow either so I reserved a place at a nice restaurant for dinner! I think we both need a bit of a break, work’s been so busy and you’re also training so intensely and-”

“No.”

“H- Huh?” you laughed nervously, “What do you mean by ‘no’?”

“It means what it means, I don’t want to go.”

“Rintarou, you can’t just- I can’t- I promise it’s a really nice place! A-And I wanted to spend some time with you…” there was a lump welling up in your throat as you tried not to suddenly pour out your recent feelings towards him. 

The recent frustrations of not being able to spend much time with your boyfriend anymore, the annoyance at the way he would always spend his free time doing self training, the anger towards his schedule which rarely ever allowed you to meet, the sadness of the fact that your shared apartment no longer had the sound of laughter when you two played games or watched silly YouTube videos together...

All that frustration felt like it was just being held up behind that lump in your throat, and to think he would simply dismiss it without a second thought.

“You should’ve asked before you started making plans. I’m going to the gym tomorrow again. We have a match against the Red Falcons in two weeks so I need to become at least a bit stronger,” Suna explained monotonously, as if you should have known that already.

“I- I know but… I thought… it’d be a nice surprise…”

The man sighed and turned to walk towards the bathroom, ready to just shower and go to sleep. He simply could not be bothered to argue with you, thinking this problem would solve itself like it always did. But you had had enough of this issue.

Suna hadn’t even realised it was coming until he felt a small bell keychain hit the back of his head. It fell to the hardwood floor with a loud clang which lasted for far too long, causing him to inhale sharply and turn around, anger and annoyance replacing the bored expression on his face for once. 

“What the hell is-” he was about to raise his voice until he saw the way your features trembled and your eyes had already become red and puffy. His own features softened and his body unstiffened. “Y/N…”

“You know, the least you could do is try to be nice to me!” you yelled, furiously wiping away the tears forming. “You could at least say “Mm, I’m really not free but we can do it some other time.” or some shit like that! But no! I- I’m busy too, you know! I’m trying to get promoted so I don’t have to rely on yer dumb ass all the time, but I still want to make time for you because I love you so much! But I don’t think ya get that!” 

Something in the back of your mind was telling you not to say these things, that maybe you could just talk this out calmly. Maybe you didn’t have to explode, but something else told you this was the only way to get a point across.

“I’m your girlfriend, but I feel more like a roommate or burden at this point! Ya know, even ‘Tsumu’s able to make time for his girlfriend! And- And Bokuto’s always doing his promotions and ads but still makes time for his boyfriend! Ojiro-senpai too! Miyu-chan tells me he’s the one planning the dates! But ya can’t even be bothered to pretend you’re happy I tried ta plan somethin’ for us!” 

Suna knew you really were angry when your dialect started coming out but he just didn’t know what to say. He could only stand there in silence with his head hanging like a child being scolded.

“Rintarou… I love you so much you know… I just wonder these days- no, I just wonder if you ever loved me back the same way.”

Oh, he knew. Ever since that night when he heard you crying on the phone, he knew he wasn’t doing enough. 

“I… I’m sorry.” Suna looked up when he suddenly heard those words from you amidst the sobs and chokes. 

“I already left your pyjamas on the bathroom counter… Please don’t… Just please don’t talk to me tonight.” you hurried to the tiny kitchen to wash your face as he silently made his way to the bathroom, thoughts swirling around in his head. 

Suna stared at your figure silently for a second before bending down to pick up the bell - a cheap gift he had given you for your third month together right after you two first started university. It was old, the string slightly frayed and loose, and the golden paint had chipped in places to reveal the stainless steel underneath it. There was even a dent on the bottom from when you accidentally dropped one of your heavier textbooks onto it. It was old, and Suna had told you countless times it was fine to throw away, but you always kept it. 

The man took it and carefully placed it back on the key rack before heading into the bathroom. He took his time in there, gathering his thoughts as he knew he wouldn’t be sharing a bed with you tonight.

It was understandable really, he hadn’t been a great boyfriend. Suna knew a relationship took work from both sides and he shouldn’t have been as blunt as he was earlier that night. 

One couldn’t count the number of times he had muttered profanities aimed towards himself while sitting in the bathtub thinking about his mistakes. He didn’t know if you would even want to see him tomorrow morning. Maybe it was for the best he just went to the gym…

The next morning, Suna woke up early. Even in winter, the sun rose far too early in Japan for his taste. Sitting up and grumbling, he rubbed his eyes and stumbled to the bathroom to begin his morning routine.

Looking at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, he could only sigh at the sight of the dark circles under his eyes. 

Though you made him sleep on the stiff couch last night, you gave him the shared duvet and his pillow while you took the slightly thinner blanket from the closet. 

Despite the added comfort, Suna could barely fall asleep. He kept twisting and turning, thinking about you. Your pained face, your strained voice, your kindness even when angry at him. 

“I fucked up so bad,” he muttered once he washed his face and stared at his pathetically tired self in the mirror, water dripping from the ends of his hair. Would you want to break up with him after that? He’d understand if you wanted to, though he knew he would never be able to forgive himself for losing you because of some stupid mistake he could have prevented. 

Suna sighed for what felt like the thousandth time in the past 12 hours and dabbed his face dry with a towel. He knew that now would be the hardest bit - entering your bedroom to get his change of clothes.

Opening the door as slowly as possible in order to prevent the loud whiny creaking that he wished he had fixed months ago, Suna walked slowly towards the open closet. As quickly as possible, he grabbed a set of clothes and turned to face the door. Though it wasn’t without looking at your sleeping form on the large bed. 

Your face was puffy, dehydrated from sobbing last night, only emphasised by the wads of used tissues on the nightstand and floor. He noticed your breathing was a bit heavier than usual and your body was curled up as you hugged the thin blanket as close to yourself as you could.

The sight pained him intensely. 

With silent footsteps, Suna set his clothes on his side (the empty side) of the bed and tiptoed out to grab the duvet before returning and carefully laying it over your body. He tucked it right up to your chin as you always liked it and sat on the floor, eyes scanning every little feature on your face. From the smallest moles he loved to kiss to each individual eyelash.

“You’re not hearing this, I guess,” he muttered, looking down at the floor for a moment before looking back up at you, “I thought about it for a really long time. I really should’ve been better to you.”

The silence in the room was deafening. 

Suna gulped and bit the inside of his cheek as he thought about his next words, wondering if you could hear him in your sleep. 

“I always left you alone but you would always be nice to me. When you could, you’d make me bentos and clean the house while I did the laundry. Hm… putting stuff into a machine isn’t anywhere equal to cooking and cleaning surfaces, but I guess that’s another point to make.” 

Suna smiled to himself just a bit at the memory of you running into the bedroom to make him try your new pastries or dinner creations. He always thought you were so adorable in your old and stained apron that sometimes he would just stand in the kitchen to chat with you or watch you cook.

Then he was reminded of the dinner you had planned for the two of you and he suddenly frowned remembering how horrible he acted towards you the night before.

“You never expected me to be perfect since day one. I think I’m the furthest thing from a handsome prince on a white horse. But you’ve always been wonderful to me. And I was thinking…” You were asleep, right? Was it worth it to say such cheesy things?

“I kept wondering if you would leave and I thought I don’t want to lose you. I’m nowhere close to a prince but I thought I want to always be the one who wakes you up with a kiss. Or, I want you to wake me up with a kiss. Either is fine really. But… yeah. I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. ” He was certain you weren’t hearing these things yet there was a dark blush on his cheeks.

Until he saw you shift in the bed. 

Suna swears his heart stopped momentarily as he leaned closer, checking to see if you had woken up. 

Your eyelids slowly opened and you squinted tiredly at Suna, just barely able to see him with how blurry your vision had become. “Rin…?”

The man hurried to his feet, hoping his morning wouldn’t feel any heavier than it already did. 

“I’m gonna give you some space. I’ll be back after my jog.” 

Suna turned to exit the bedroom but was stopped by the sound of stumbling, followed by your warmth around his waist and resting on his back.

“Please… don’t go.”

He stared silently at the floor in front of him. 

“I don’t think you want to-”

“Stay here! …please?” 

Your soft voice broke but mended his heart at the same time. The scratchiness and fear in your voice contrasted with the words that he wanted to hear so badly.

“Did you…”

“Yeah, I heard everything.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course I’m still a little mad. But right now I’m just really happy you would say those things when you normally wouldn’t tell me how you feel. So… please, don’t go. Stay with me.”

The few moments of silence seemed to pass in eons as Suna took in a shaky breath before turning to hug you tightly, burying his face into your neck so you couldn’t see his tears of relief.

“Of course I will. I won’t go anywhere, babe.”

Four years have passed since that night. Suna yawns and scrunches up his face slightly at the way the sunlight enters your shared bedroom. Squinting his eyes, he looks around the room and wonders if maybe he should’ve put on a shirt like you did last night to deal with the first bites of winter. Then again, you did take his shirt.

He then looks to you, sleeping quietly by his side. You looked a little like a mess; hair messy, dwarfed in his big shirt, cheek smushed against the pillow, but he thought you looked adorable. 

It’s cold, but he feels warm by your side. 

And when he looks down at your left hand resting under his even in your sleep, the sight of the silver ring with its diamonds adorning your finger makes his heart even warmer.

[idreamofplaid]

All is Calm

Square Filled: Impala for @spngenrebingo & Huddle for Warmth for @spnchristmasbingo

Characters: Dean x Reader; Sam mostly mentioned

Word Count: 2445

Summary: Dean been distracted by hunting lately, but he’s fully focused now. Everything is clear to him.

Created for @spngenrebingo & @spnchristmasbingo

Dean was usually so good about keeping Baby maintained and in top condition. Her oil was always changed hundreds of miles before it needed to be, the air pressure and tread on her tires was checked on practically a weekly basis along with her fluid levels. Some people might say he was obsessive about his car. You’d come to understand she was more than just a car to him, and the way he cared for her was the way he cared for anything and anyone that mattered to him.

It was one of the many admirable qualities about Dean. You had noticed this softer side of his in so many small ways since you’d met him. Along with that softness, he possessed a driven determination. That determination pushed him to keep hunting the next monster, save the next person, do what he could to make the world better. That was why Baby hadn’t been receiving her usual amount of attention lately, too many monsters in the world. That was also the reason the two of you were stuck in the middle of nowhere Montana right now. Baby had a dead battery.

That was bad enough, but it was the week before Christmas, and in Montana that meant full fledged winter. Walking out of here wasn’t an option. The last town you’d passed through was thirty miles back, and new snow was beginning to fall. Even worse, the cell signal out here was so weak Dean had barely gotten to say ten words to Sam before the line went dead. He reassured you that was enough for his tech geek brother to turn on the GPS and find you. You just had to wait it out. 

Fortunately, Baby’s trunk contained not only every weapon known to humankind but also sleeping bags and blankets in the compartment beneath those weapons. Dean fetched those and covered the backseat with a sleeping bag, leaving the other covers in a pile for now, then he motioned for you to get inside with a lopsided smile, “We’re going to have to make the best of it until Sam gets here.”

Sam didn’t drive the way Dean did, but he could be fast enough when the situation called for it. Still, it would take hours for him to get here. That was a long time with the temperature dropping the way it was. You tried to sound more sure that the two of you would make it through this okay than you felt. “What are we going to do exactly?” The uncertainty was in your voice in spite of your best efforts, and you knew Dean could hear it based on his reaction. He went into joking and downplaying the situation mode.

“We’re gonna get under those blankets and sing Christmas carols. I have a fabulous voice.” He held the car door open and swept his arm gallantly toward the interior and the back seat. You climbed in and Dean followed, closing the door behind him.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been in Baby’s backseat by any means, but it was the first time you had been here with Dean. You knew it wasn’t the first time Dean had been back here either; the difference was he wasn’t a passenger when he was in the backseat of this car. Better not to think about that right now. You were in danger of freezing to death; you could think about your crush and deal with your jealousy tomorrow after you survived.

Dean reached around you, grabbed the other sleeping bag, and settled it around the two of you; then he did the same with a blanket. His final move was to put his arms around you and draw you in close to him. He rested his chin on top of your head and dropped the bravado. “I’m gonna keep you warm, Y/N. It’ll be okay.”

His body was warm, but as the last of the heat disappeared from the inside of the car, you could feel the cold gathering around the little cocoon Dean had made. You weren’t going to let yourself be scared. You were with Dean, and he would take care of you. You tried to snuggle closer to him, but you were already about as close as you could get. So, you tried to distract yourself. “What about those Christmas songs, Dean?”

He rubbed his hand along your back to create more warmth. “I kinda exaggerated that a little. I can’t sing at all.” You put your head on his shoulder and sighed, only it wasn’t the contented kind; it was much more the “I can make it through this” kind of sigh. Dean tried to redirect your thoughts with a different approach. “I can tell stories though.”

“Really?” You didn’t lift your head from his shoulder and slipped your hand beneath his jacket. Dean took it for what it was, a gesture to keep warm, but it was more than that to you. It comforted you to feel him closer. “Tell me one. Tell me a Christmas story.”

“Well...um...I don’t really have too many Christmas memories, but I’ll tell you what I’d like to do.”

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

I felt your hand slide across my stomach and come to a stop on my ribs. Under different circumstances, it wouldn’t be long before I’d be kissing you. It’d be the kind of kiss that was hot and previewed what else I was about to do to you. We weren’t in those kind of circumstances. I should have gotten you in the back of this car before now and made out with you the way I couldn’t stop thinking about. I should have done a lot of things, but now here we are. You want to hear a Christmas story, so I’m going to tell you what I should have done about Christmas. 

“When we get back to the bunker…” That’s it. Keep the focus on we are going to get out of here. “I’m going to get a tree, and we’re going to find some ornaments. I bet the Men of Letters stashed some somewhere in that place. Or, we’ll buy some. But we’re going to decorate that thing. You, me, and Sam. It’ll be a big one too. You can decide where we put it. Where do you think the tree should go?”

You shifted against me. You still felt warm enough, but I wish there was a way I could keep you warmer. It’s my fault you’re in this mess. How could I be this stupid? I’ve been taking care of this car since I was a kid. This is probably the biggest fuck up of my life, and there’s plenty to choose from. You answer my question, pulling me out of the downward spiral I’m in.  “I think it should go in the library, so we see it as soon as we come into the bunker. And we spend the most time there. Maybe we could get another tiny one for the kitchen to look at while we eat?”

You love Christmas trees. Why didn’t I ever know that? You love them, and I haven’t gotten you a single fucking one the whole time you’ve been living with us. “Yeah. Sure we can get a little one too. We’ll make strings of popcorn to put on it like they did in those Christmas movies Sam watched when we were kids.” I realized then it was Sam who’d watched the movies and the reindeer cartoons. Sam had wanted Christmas too, and I’d just blocked the whole thing out. Christmas had probably gone up in flames on the ceiling for me the night my mother died. I regret that now.

What else was in those movies Sam used to watch? “We’ll make hot chocolate too, with whipped cream, and stick a candy cane in it. We can wrap presents together. Maybe you could teach me how to wrap them better so they look pretty good?”

Your hand felt so small on me, and your voice was quiet. “Yes, I’ll teach you how to wrap presents. There should be a lot of presents under the tree. You haven’t had many presents, Dean, and you should have. You deserve presents.” Where did that come from? 

“I...I don’t know about that, but you do.”  You were beginning to feel colder to my touch. I needed to do something. “Y/N, let’s lie down, sweetheart.” Hopefully, full body contact would make you warmer. I lay you down on the seat and stretched out next to you so the entire length of my body was against you. I made sure a blanket was pulled up behind you to cover the seat of the Impala because it was probably warmer than the leather. 

You put your cheek on my neck, seeking out the warmth I had to give you. “You okay, Y/N?” You nodded but didn’t answer out loud. I didn’t like the quiet. It was better to keep you talking. “What do you want for Christmas this year? I’ll make sure Santa knows.” 

That made you laugh. “Is Santa real too? Have you been holding out on me?” 

Yeah, I’ve been holding out on you, but not about Santa Claus. “I could get a message to him. What do you want?”

You giggled, and it was a beautiful sound. “I want some Christmas pajamas.” I could picture you in something like that. It was cute and sexy. “Will you get some too? And Sam? We could have matching pajamas. Like a family.” Wait a minute. Did you just put me in the brother category? And why was I worried about that now?

“Sure, sweetheart. I’ll tell Santa to get us all Christmas pajamas.” It’s going to take one hell of a bribe to get Sam to go along with this one. 

Then you surprised me because you asked, “Dean, what do you want?” I had no idea how to answer that question. The things I wanted couldn’t be put inside a box or under a Christmas tree. 

Hell with it. I’m just going to be honest. “I want you and Sam to be happy.” That sounded a little like I was making you a sister which I’m definitely not, so maybe you didn’t brother zone me before. 

You kissed my cheek, and it warmed me inside, making me forget how cold it was on the outside for a few seconds. “I want you to be happy too, Dean.”

It wasn’t the right time or place, but I put my finger under your chin, tilted your face up, and kissed you. It was a soft kiss, a kiss to tell you what I was afraid to say, what I’ve always been afraid to say, afraid to even admit until we’re in a situation like this, until I can’t push it away or distract myself with something that doesn’t matter nearly as much. I love you. But I can’t tell you that now because it might sound like some kind of deathbed confession, and I can’t let you think you’re going to die. You’re not; I won’t let you die. 

One thing my father did that I am very thankful for at this moment was teach me how to survive. I hope you understand what I’m about to do. In this kind of cold, you need body heat. Direct body heat; our clothes are in the way. They’ve got to go. Your eyes are starting to drift closed, and that can’t happen. 

I lift your head up, and you slowly open your eyes. “Hey, Y/N. Stay with me. Okay? Keep your eyes open. Let me see how beautiful they are. Look at me, Y/N.” I put my hands on your cheeks and hold your face steady to keep you focused on me. “I need to get you warmer. My body can do that if I take off my clothes. It’ll be warmer that way. Okay?” You nod at me. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest. I’m scared, but I steady my voice for you. “Then, I’m going to take yours off, so our skin is touching.” You nod again. 

“Alright.” I kiss your forehead then take my jacket off, thinking I can put that on top of you later too. I take the rest of my clothes off and get back under the sleeping bag. I notice the snow is falling heavy outside. I hope Sam can find the car when he gets here. I’m careful when I take your clothes off to keep you under the covers. 

When everything is gone, it’s just you pressed up close against me. I’ve got to keep you awake, keep you talking. “When we get back home, I’m going to take you on a real date. The least I can do is take you to dinner after you got naked with me.” You smile at my stupid joke. That’s good. “We’ll go to Lawrence. I’ll show you where I grew up. There’s this steakhouse there that I can barely remember, but my dad used to take my mom there. They couldn’t afford a babysitter, so I went along. They had these menus for kids you could draw on, and I always got crayons. I colored everything blue. I remember my mom laughed about that.” 

This was too far down memory lane. I was probably boring you. “Do you like steak? We could have seafood instead, or Italian, or something. Anything you want.” 

“I like sweet potatoes. Can you get a sweet potato with your steak?” Crap. I don’t know. You couldn’t thirty years ago, but you couldn’t get sweet potatoes anywhere then. 

“You want sweet potatoes? We’ll go somewhere where they have sweet potatoes.” I kiss the top of your head again. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. We can go to a real city if you want. Go somewhere really fancy. Dallas maybe. Do you want to see the lights of the big city?” 

The only answer I got was, “You’re so warm, Dean. You feel so good.” 

I put my hand on the back of your head and held it. “I’m gonna make you say that under different circumstances.” My joke, that wasn’t really a joke, wasn’t working this time.

I wasn’t sure you even heard me, but then you whispered, “Promise?”

“Promise.” A single tear slid down my cheek.

The knock on the window was loud; it made me jump, but you didn’t notice. “Dean! Dean!” I have never been so happy to hear my brother. We’re going home, and you’re going to have those pajamas. 

Everything: @gambitwinchester​ @princessmisery666​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @peridottea91​ @logical-princey​ @emilyshurley​ @beenlovingromansincedayoneish​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @waywardbaby​ @atc74​ @ledzeppelinsbonzo​ @shaniquacynthia​ @mariekoukie6661​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @67-chevy-baby​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @terrarium-jpeg​ @emoryhemsworth​ @crashdevlin​ @heycasbutt​ @jules-1999​ @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @sammyimpala-67​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @mrs-meghan-winchester​ @timelordy-fangirl2​ @sweetness47​ @hobby27​ @awesomesusiebstuff​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @neveratease​ @becs-bunker​ @sandlee44​ @supernaturalgrandma​ @lonewolf471​ @sea040561​ @dawnie1988​ @maddiepants​ @volleyballer519​ @outcastedangel​ @kdfrqqg​ @lizette50​ @daisymoder72​ @sorenmarie87​ @oldfreakything​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ @deansotherotherblog​

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee​ @flamencodiva​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @sammit-janet​ @focusonspn​ @akshi8278​ @ladywinchester1967​ @sgarrett49​ @wingedcatninja​ @coffee-obsessed-writer​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @ellewritesfix05​ 

[tallyovie-writes]

Pictures of Us | f. w. Part 2

part 1

Summary: all the paintings choose a student to patron, the Lady chooses you and watches as you and Fred Weasley grow in the same direction

Warning:none, might contain little angst, nothing serious

2k words

@sirenswhispers @discoverablefeelings @capture-the-moment-on-camera @sophieswizardswheezes

Sixth year, December

The corridors buzzed with excitement. With only less than two weeks to the Yule Ball boys were running around in desperate need of finding partners while girls were frantic about not being asked. Of course the already paired ones watched the madness spread with a smug smile on their lips.

The Paintings also had the time of their lives, the new puppets on their chessboard gave back a little life to their fading colours. Now they could play matchmaker from an even bigger selection.

The Lady wanted to be proud to say she did not take part in such childish acts, but she had a mission with those two before the second task. It's not like she could do much, but occasionally if she heard a french boy talking about inviting her patron to the dance she faked sadness as she gave the poor boy the news that you were indeed taken.

You weren't indeed taken.

Madness has yet to engulf you, but you weren't calm either. Collita was asked by a bulgarian boy, but you had doubts whether there weren't threats made by her that overpowered the poor boy's common sense.

You would have been fine with the two of you going together, but now that she had a partner, you weren't planning on being the third wheel.

You forced these thoughts out of your mind for now. You had more important things going on.

The Lady's corridor was full of students as usual, so you weren't surprised when you entered the DADA classroom someone almost knocked you off your feet.

"Watch where you are goi.....oh..." you started telling off your attacker, but as you looked up Fred Weasley held eye contact.

Ever since that encounter in the potions storage room things have changed. You haven't really met after that, the two of you gave a wide berth to one another. No funny business, no prank. When you did run into each other, a sudden awareness filled your body. He made no snarky comments, his usual sarcasm nowhere to be found. You didn't bring up the secret of the castle, and he didn't bring up the date. Like an unspoken deal has been made without either of your knowledge. It was awkward at best. You didn't think anyone noticed, there was only bad blood between you before.

He didn't reply, he didn't apologize for running you over. He took a long look at your face, lingering on details only he could see. Without his usual grin, he left the scene as fast as he came, robes flying around him.

"What was that? Has something happened between you two?" seems like someone noticed after all.

"Nothing besides me agreeing to a date, him agreeing to let me in on a secret, and our mutual ghosting. How is your french boy by the way?" you feigned innocence.

Collita's jaw hit the floor.

"I'm joking. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

"You know I wouldn't even be surprised. With all the sexual tension you two radiate, I wouldn't put it past you that I could find you in a broom closet with him."

Now it was your turn to let your jaw hit the floor.

"Well then, good to know nothing is going on..."

Boy, if you'd known...

Sixth year, yule ball

It wasn't that bad of an evening. You could say it could have been quite magical. The house elves outdid themselves, even the usual house rivalry crawled back to its gloomy hole.

The icicles lost their naturally given cold arua just like the stone walls' usual grim facade. White dominated, but was quickly swept by the wide range of colourful dress robes, Dumbledore's glittery lilac fabric showing how it's done properly.

It really wasn't your date's fault either that you didn't really enjoy yourself. The poor boy tried everything, but besides polite conversation you weren't capable of anything else.

You were standing alone by the food table, the ravenclaw boy left a while ago to try his luck somewhere else, probably with bigger chances.

You saw Collita bent over from laughter silent tears running down her face, her date was watching her with parted lips in amazement. Eyes big, positive surprise written on his face. Collita did that to people. She was naturally gifted with a charming personality, she drew you in, spoke to you like you were on a pedestal.

She made you feel seen. A secret talent that you were rather jealous of on several occasions.

Suddenly you felt sick of the swirling mesmerized faces, the colours were too vibrant, the music too loud, too many bodies pressed together.

Before the walls started closing around you, you left your previous position and made your way to the exit that led to the gardens. The only sound that was registrateable to your ears were only your own footsteps.

Fresh air cut your rapid breathing shorter. You slowed down, the Great Hall's chokingly sweet smells started to fade away into the night.

"Wouldn't say rushing to the night with only a light silk material covering you was a smart choice, wasn't it? I took you to be a lot smarter than that, love. You're gonna get sick." a soft voice interrupted you.

Fred Weasley stood next to the bushes.

"Well, being sick would mean I wouldn't have to see your ugly face in class, so..." you replied but your voice lacked its usual fierceness. You were too tired.

He chuckled at your reply.

"I don't wanna go back there.." you started in a low voice, barely understandable, but gathered your poise and frowned as you said the last sentence. "They are too happy in there anyway."

"Is that jealousy in your voice?" he found so goodly which strings of you he should pull.

"And what if it is?" you snapped at him.

A ghost of his usual smug grin appeared on his face.

"Get your big nose out of my business by the way!"

"Well love, you know what they say about big nosed guys..." he lazily shrugged, hands in the pockets of his robe.

"Get lost, Weasley, I'm not in the mood today."

Maybe it was the hint of desperation in your voice, or the pathetic look you might have presented, but he stopped picking your brains.

"Come in, Y/S/N, you might even find the bloke of your dreams tonight." Fred tilted his head to the side.

"I'm not interested in 'finding a guy' to be my only goal." you scoffed at his remark.

"Well then, as the only guy you talk to right now, I feel obligated to spare you from the clutches of the cold and sickness, so pretty please get your ass in here."

"I'll stay until I decide it's enough. But thank you for your concern. Bye Fred Weasley, 'find the girl of your dreams' tonight." you rolled your eyes at him.

Little did you know, he already did.

Despite the cold, the Lady felt your frozen heart start melting, even if you haven't realized yet.

Sixth year, few days after the Yule Ball

"I don't understand why you thought it was a good idea to freeze your pretty little ass out there in a low cut silk dress in winter."

You groaned out in frustration.

Collita didn't spare you despite the fact that you were bloody sick, and fuckin hurting everywhere.

"Madam Pomfrey said you won highest fever of the year." she mentioned between stealing a few of your get-well sweets. "At least you finally won something." she winked at you.

"Get out, and let me suffer alone you bimbo!" you hissed at her, but the sharp pains shooting down your neck really destroyed to effect you were trying to achieve.

"Alrighty, my little pathetic friend, I suppose I can leave you to your demise. Be a good and obedient patient." she sent you a kiss and strolled out the Hospital Wing.

**

In the Hospital Wing, after curfew

After Collita left you to suffer on your own Madam Pomfrey gave you a light sleeping tonic. You welcomed the sweet oblivion in the place of pain.

A light noise disturbed the calming darkness. Opening your eyes was a too heavy task, so you relied on your hearing. A soft fumbling could be heard, but the person near your bed executed the deed quite clumsily as the most colourful swearing left their mouth.

Fighting against the tonic's luring effect, you tried opening your eyes. When you did, you almost jerked back in surprise.

Fred Weasley stood there with an innocent smile on his face, like a child caught in a naughty act, his hands were midair frozen on the spot hovering above your stack of sweets.

"What the fuck are you doing in the middle of the night standing near my bed?" you demanded and pulled your blanket further to your neck. "Are you setting up a prank?"

"Have a little faith in me, Y/N...if it were a prank you would only know it before it happened and that's already too late. Can't a bloke visit his sick classmate? The classmate he warned against the cold?" you scoffed at his pointed stare.

"In the middle of the night?"

He started scratching the back of his neck.

"Good point. A point I should probably elaborate on." he didn't seem like someone who wanted to elaborate.

"Don't let me stop you from doing that..." you rolled your eyes at him.

He seemed a little awkward and you could barely hide your amusement. It is not every day a Weasley gets a little intimidated and loses his usual cockiness.

"You see..." he started but his gaze was still fixated on his hands. "...I felt a tad responsible for you catching a cold.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise.

"If it weren't for me dancing on your nerves in the garden making you irritated enough to stay outside longer than intended, you wouldn't be here right now." he sounded a little guilty and you couldn't help the warmth that started spreading in your stomach.

You started to chuckle.

"Weasley. It's alright." you felt a sudden bravery envelop you as you said the next words nonchalantly. "You owe me another secret and we are even."

You waited for his reaction.

He didn't disappoint. He lifted his head, brown eyes locking into your own. Now you weren't sure if it was a wise idea to make him remember your deal back in the potion storage room.

"And here I thought I could bribe you with chocolate that I nicked from the kitchen...you are not a woman easily pleased." he didn't seem that sad about this fact.

"Where would be the fun in that?"

"Right."

Silence fell upon the two of you. Eyes still interlocked, you weren't sure if minutes or hours passed by. The Hospital Wing's darkness faded, and the freckles splattered across his face became more contrasted than before. He tilted his head to the side, his gaze burned your skin.

Suddenly becoming aware of the weirdness of the situation you cleared your throat and looked away.

"Since the tonic made me hungry like a wolf, I'll accept that nicked chocolate." you said, trying to break the silence.

Fred smiled and threw you the bar he fumbled around with before. Your catch was nothing sort of graceful and you felt embarrassment tint your cheeks.

Looking down at the bar in your hand you felt your eyes grow big.

"How did you know this is my favourite?" you asked astonishment, creeping into your voice.

"Lucky guess." he shrugged. You didn't need to know that every time the Grand Hall's tables were filled with this, he couldn't look away from the joy radiating on your face. Just like now.

"Your taste is impeccable, I gotta say."

Oh yes, his taste was indeed impeccable, but not just in chocolate.

[jean-kayak]

I Fell For You, No Literally

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend comes walking back into your life, causing a whole bunch of emotions to resurface

Pairing: Terushima Yuuji x black!fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of past relationships, like two handfuls of angst, real fluffy at the end, A LOT of dialogue at the end, Terushima being soft, brief mentions of sickness (like real brief), hurt/comfort, exes-to-lovers?, a huge misunderstanding, it gets really stressful at one point in this thing, implied past reader x oc, smut!, fingering (f. receiving), oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, squirting, overstimulation, little bit of aftercare, Terushima has a dick piercing LMAO, domestic things, mentions of alcohol consumption (reader gets drunk), it’s basically an emotional rollercoaster, Terushima being suggestive *sighs* i think i covered everything

Word Count: 12,881 (BITCH im sorry it wasn’t supposed to be this long)

A/N: This was originally going to be apart of the writing event that I was doing, but this was really long, and it took me a little bit longer than I thought so I figured I would just do it separately. And also I tried to do fluffy smut, I don’t really know if I did that lmao. But anyways, enjoy! 

P.S.: I also gave the reader a name bc this is really long!

All characters are 18+!!

"I think I have more lights in the back, I'll go get them," your best friend tells you, and you nod as you continue to hang up the lights on the top of your shop.

Although you realize your mistake when you lean over, and the ladder starts to slip. "Shit," you whisper, and you feel your heart drop, fear coursing through your body as you feel the ladder going down and not stopping.

You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for impact on the freezing cold concrete, but it never comes. "Oh, my God, are you okay?!" It's a deeper voice, and you open your eyes to see that you're nowhere near the ground and that you're in someone's arms.

You're still a bit shaken from the fear of the fall, but the voice and the scent are all too familiar and it brings you back fairly quickly. You look up and see a face that you never thought you'd see again.

"You know, I'd always say you'd fallen for me," he quips, and you roll your eyes as you try to squirm out of his grip. "Wait, where you going? I like holding you like this." You chuckle softly as you roll your eyes playfully, and he lets you down. "But seriously, are you okay?"

You release a deep breath. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for saving me, Terushima."

He takes a few steps closer to you. "Come on, baby, you don't have to be so formal with me." You scoff as you take a step back, fully taking him in.

Terushima Yuuji. Your ex-boyfriend. Your relationship lasted all through high school and your first year of college until things went rocky. You prefer not to think about the details, but you can't not think about how good he looks right now.

He's still blond, with the undercut, and piercings, and even through his winter clothes, you can tell he's filled out a lot since you last saw him. Matter of fact, how long has it been? Three, four years?

"Three and a half," you flinch slightly. Shit, were you thinking out loud? His eyes rake down your figure, and even in the cold, you can feel the heat course through your body. "You look good."

"So do you," you reply, not really knowing what to say. How are you even supposed to talk to your exes? You've had others besides him, but you haven't made contact with them since you called it off.

There's a weird tension in the air, and you don't know what to say to break it, but luckily Kiya comes out of your shop, her eyes widening when they land on Terushima. "Oh, now, this is a surprise," she says, smirking as she looks between the two of you. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, you know, just being her knight in shining armor and catching her from falling off the ladder," he tells her smugly, and she looks at you in horror.

"Via, what did I tell you about doing things on the ladder without me watching you?" she scolds, and you shrug as you kick at the ground.

"I'm sorry, okay? And besides, I think that's enough lights for the front don't you think?" you ask, looking at the front of the shop to take in your work. Kiya follows suit, taking in the lights.

"Yeah, they look good. And I would tell you good job, but you almost killed yourself in the process." You roll your eyes again as you scoff. "Thank you, Terushima," she says, and he waves her off.

"Any time." So he still has that smug, confident personality. That hasn't changed much. You clear your throat as you gesture to the door.

"Well, I should probably open up shop. Thank you, Terushima, I really appreciate you catching me."

"C'mon, what'd I tell you about the name?" You tilt your head as you raise an eyebrow.

"See ya around, Terushima." And you're walking through the door.

Kiya comes in behind you a few seconds later, and you just brace yourself for the conversation that's about to happen and is going to last at least twenty minutes. "Holy crap, he is still hot as hell." You sigh as you put on your apron. You don't respond, and she knows you're agreeing with her, so he continues talking.

"No, Kiya, don't even go there."

"What? What's wrong with rekindling the flame, at least a little?"

"You remember how we left off," you remind her, and you see her wave you off before washing her hands.

"Okay, that was a few years ago. People change."

You scoff. "Yeah, I doubt he's changed." The conversation is quickly put to bed as people start to come in, and you submerge yourself in your cooking.

This week was your shopping week, but Kiya had family things so you're at the store by yourself, collecting a ton of food to stockpile for the shop. You feel a headache coming on as you cross out another item off the list, your vision full of lines every time you look up from the crumpled piece of paper.

You also have to carry and put all of these groceries in your car, and you want to whine in annoyance, that headache starting to beat behind your eyelids, and the cold isn't helping either. "You look like you could use some help, m'lady." You sigh heavily, recognizing the voice immediately.

"You're not following me are you, Terushima?" you ask, playfully, but a part of you is serious.

"Of course not, but it seems that whenever you're in trouble, I'm always around." You let out a surprised laugh, but you don't turn your attention to him, keeping it focused on putting the groceries in your car. "Let me help you," he offers, already moving to grab a bag, but you stop him.

"I got it, it's fine. Thanks anyway," you quickly tell him before catching your breath and starting again.

"Via, seriously, let me help you." Your movements falter at the nickname. Even though everyone calls you that, it always sounded different coming from him. You want to scoff at how easily your body reacted to it. You don't have the energy to fight, so you scoot over, giving him enough room to help pile the bags in your car. "So, you have your own shop," he starts, and is he really trying to make casual conversation right now?

"Yeah, I do," you respond, deciding to partake in whatever this is.

"American, right?" he asks, and you hate how he still remembers, and you drop the bag into your car a little bit more aggressively.

"Yeah. We have Japanese as well, but Kiya knows more about that than I do." He helps you put the last bag in, closing the trunk shut and returning the shopping cart.

"Well, that's great. I'm happy for you," he tells you when he gets back, and you nod as you purse your lips.

"Thanks." And there's that awkward tension again. Why was he trying to act like everything was normal? Why is he talking to you like nothing happened between you two? "Listen, Te--" You're cut off by his phone ringing, and he quickly fishes his phone out of his pocket and grimacing when he looks at the screen.

"I have to take this, uh--"

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. "Go ahead, it's okay. Thanks again," you say, quickly signaling the end of whatever this conversation was. You don't give him another look, turning around and getting into your car, thankful that it's still warm. You crank the car up and you look out the window as you do, seeing Terushima walking away on the phone.

You rest your forehead against the steering wheel. What are the fucking chances that he out of all people would walk back into your life? You take another deep breath. Thinking about it too much will only make your headache worse. You give him one last glance before driving off, hoping that you're actually getting away from him this time.

~

"You saw him again at the store?" Kiya asks, her eyes wide as she sits up on the couch. You roll your eyes from exhaustion as you stab your fork into your takeout.

"Yes, he said it's like whenever I'm in trouble, he's always around." You stab your food again, but you don't know if it's out of annoyance or anger this time.

"Okay, Via, come on, this is like a sign, isn't it?" You give her a look before shaking your head. "Why not?"

"Kiya, you were there through all of it. He's...he's not--he's probably still the same," you say, trailing off quietly, and Kiya's face turns into concern as she finally sees that the hurt you've tried to push back down is now coming to the surface. She moves closer to you on the couch before wrapping an arm around you, pulling you into her.

"You're right. I'm sorry, I just thought, maybe this one could be different. Different from those other douches you were seeing." You huff slightly, a smile forming on your face as you remember everything she said about what she didn't like about every last one of your exes.

Some of them were just flings, others could've easily gone further, but they always broke it off. You don't really know the reason, but you've sort of come to terms with it. Maybe dating just isn't your thing right now. "Yeah, I know," you say, burrowing yourself further into her embrace. "It's just, I don't know, what if it happens all over again?"

"If that does happen again, then I'll actually kill him this time." Both of you laugh at her words before she speaks up again. "But, all that aside, it's up to you what you want to do. Don't listen to me, I'm just the crazy best friend."

Your smile grows wider. "Crazy, you definitely are."

"Hey!" she says, shoving you away playfully, and you both dive back into laughter as you finish your takeout and the cheesy rom-com playing on the TV.

You sigh as you wipe off the bar counter, the shop quiet due to the fact that you're about an hour and a half from closing. You usually enjoy the serenity, grateful that it's not a rush like it is during mid-morning, lunch, and dinner. Around this time, you and Kiya usually get a chance to sit down and take a break.

You finish scrubbing off a stubborn stain on the counter when you hear the door open. "Welcome, I'll be with you in a moment," you greet out of habit without even looking up as you turn around to throw the rag into the sink.

"The place looks great." The familiar voice almost makes you stop in your tracks, but you recover quickly, wiping your hands off on a towel before turning to see Terushima sitting in the middle of the bar counter. You walk over to him, standing right in front of the counter, feeling like the counter isn't a big enough gap between the two of you.

"Thank you," you tell him honestly as you plant your hands on the edge of the counter. "What can I get for you?"

He smirks at you before he answers. "We both know you already know what I want," he says confidently, and you want to punch yourself because of the fact that you still know what his favorite food is even after you've been broken up.

"Coming right up." You turn around quickly, getting started on his order so that you can get him out of here as fast as possible before Kiya can see him. Unfortunately, that isn't the case, and she comes waltzing in from her office, her eyebrows raised high.

"Oh?" she starts, her voice a whisper. "What's he doing here?" she asks, and you shrug.

"I dunno. He just walked in here like a few minutes ago." You turn your head to look at him over his shoulder, and you see that he's taken off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. You notice that he's got a tattoo on his left arm that snakes all around his upper arm. Yeah, he's definitely gotten bigger since you've last seen him.

He looks up from his phone, catching you in the act, and he smirks at you before flexing his muscles, and your face heats up quickly, your head turning back to what you're doing. "He actually ordered something?" Kiya asks playfully with a huff, and you return it as you flip the patty.

"Yeah, I was surprised too. I thought he'd be here to bother me again," you admit.

"Which is what you would've wanted, right?" she teases, and you shove at her which makes her laugh, and yours soon follows.

"You guys talking about me?" you hear him speak up, and you roll your eyes with a scoff as you glance at him.

"Yeah," Kiya starts, "we were talking about how we could've closed up early if it weren't for you," she tells him, and you chuckle softly as you continue cooking.

"Well, I had to try the food for myself," he responds, and Kiya hums as she nods, obviously believing that he's not telling the entire truth. She starts to walk away back towards her office, but not before she nudges you softly, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You give her a look before waving her off.

Once she's left, you shudder lightly, feeling his eyes on you. You know he's watching you and everything you're doing. His eyes never leave you, watching you as you move along through the kitchen. You can't remember the last time you felt so heated under someone's gaze.

But you do remember that it took absolutely nothing for you to melt for him, and you internally shake the thoughts that are starting to pool into your head. You finish his food, sliding the plate to him softly, his drink following shortly. "Enjoy," you tell him easily, and he starts speaking before you can turn around.

"Thanks, but I think there's something that I want that's not on the menu." You roll your eyes, knowing what he's implying, but you play dumb anyway, leaning forward on the counter, resting your chin in your palm.

"Oh, and what would that be?" you ask, and he's leaning in, his face dangerously close to yours. He moves his eyes from yours to your lips before bringing them back up to your eyes. You feel your breath starting to pick up, your mouth falling open slightly, but you don't move away from him. You can't.

And then he's smirking at you again, and your knees almost give out. "You."

There's a knock on the door, and you let out an exasperated sigh that echoes throughout the walls of your apartment. You grab the baby currently sitting on the floor in the middle of your living room as another knock comes from the door. "I'm coming! Just give me a second!" you yell, your thin patience starting to disappear.

You walk to the door, yanking it open, getting ready to yell at whoever is presently throwing a monkey wrench into your day. "What are you doing here?" you deadpan, blinking a few times in confusion as you take in Terushima standing outside your apartment. "Actually, how do you even know where I live?"

He has the actual audacity to look sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck as he looks down. "I may or may not have gotten it from Kiya." You roll your eyes. Of course, it would be her. You really are going to kill her. Your niece starts fussing and you sigh. You really don't have time for this right now.

"If you wanna come in, come in," you rush out as you make your way back into your apartment. You vaguely hear the sound of the door closing and some footsteps, but you pay the sounds no mind as you set your niece in her high chair.

The first thing Terushima didn't expect when the door swung open was for you to have a baby in your arms. That alone almost distracted him from how you looked. Your hair was thrown together in a ponytail, curls falling out of it. Your shirt is covered in all kinds of stains, along with the sweatpants you're currently wearing, but Terushima thinks that you look amazing.

He slips off his coat and his shoes, throwing his scarf over his jacket before slowly making his way into the kitchen where you disappeared to. He takes in your apartment, the decorating and furnishing matching your personality to a T. The sound of fussing brings his attention to the baby that you were holding not too long ago, and he hears you speak.

"I know you're hungry, sweet girl," you say, opening the fridge. "What do you want?" you ask her even though you know she can't respond. Terushima smiles fondly as he sits down next to her, resting his arms on the island in front of him. "You want bananas?" You lift your head to look at her, and when she fusses, you try again. "How about peas and carrots?" Both her and Terushima's face screw up, and you smile softly as you turn back towards the fridge.

"Let's see," you bend over to look further into the fridge, and his eyes zero in on your ass before he snaps himself out of it. "Strawberries?" you ask hopeful, and when she laughs lightly, you smile before pulling out the container and warming it up with your hands as you bump the fridge closed.

You walk over to a drawer, opening it to pull out a small spoon before bumping it closed with your hip. The movement makes your boobs sway, and Terushima can't help but notice that he can see your nipples through your thin t-shirt. "Eyes up here, perv." Your words jolt him out of his spell, and he smirks at you as he shrugs.

"What can I say? They're nice tits." You scoff at his words, trying to fight the heat rising in your cheeks that he was checking you out, and it dawns on you how you actually look right now. You feel a little bit embarrassed, but the damage is already been done, and could you really blame yourself? You've been watching a baby all day.

Satisfied with your reaction, he turns to your niece, leaning forward to pinch her cheek softly, which makes her laugh. "And who is this pretty lady?" he asks as you smile at the interaction before walking to stand at the opposite side of the island.

"This is my niece, MJ." You set down the container of mushed food, taking off the lid before swirling around the food. You look up to see Terushima hold out a finger which she immediately grabs onto, and she smiles widely at him. "She seems to like you," you comment, feeling conflicted at the way your heart skips at their interactions. "You wanna feed her?"

You push the bowl his way, and he picks up the spoon with his other hand, his finger on his hand still being held hostage by your niece's hand. He feeds her with ease, and she even seems to be accepting the food a lot better from him than from you. "Do you think you could watch her while I get in the shower?" you ask. "I'll be quick, I promise."

"Yeah, go ahead. We'll be fine," he tells you without even looking your way.

"Are you sure?"

He finally looks at you after wiping some of the food off of her face with the spoon. "I'm sure, Via. I can handle it. Go do what you need to do." He quickly turns his attention back to MJ, and you quickly dart out of the kitchen making your way to your room.

You've been in the shower for about ten minutes, and the only thing Terushima keeps thinking about is the water running down your naked body, and he keeps shaking his head, forcing the images out of his head.

MJ's already eaten all of the food, and Terushima lightly presses on her stomach, seeing that she's completely full, and he looks around to see all of her toys in the living room. He finds the baby wipes, cleaning her up before he takes her out of the high chair and carries her to the living room.

He sets her down on the blanket you have out for her, and she immediately moves towards one of the toys as he sits on the floor next to her. Terushima's plan was mostly to bother you when he came over, and the last thing he expected was for him to be babysitting. He doesn't mind it though, he'll take any time he can spend with you. He'll take as much as he can in order to try to get you back.

He doesn't really know why he came to America, but part of him knows it was because of you. He knows that after you both graduated college, you moved back here and started your own shop. He hates how things ended between the two of you, and he wants to fix it, but he knows he's going to work hard especially because of how bad he hurt you.

He's been punching himself for three and a half years because of how stupid he was back then. If he could back in time and punch himself, he would curb stomp himself instead. He notices that he doesn't hear the water running anymore, and then he hears a door open. And he thought the clothes you had on before made you look good.

You walk out into the living room, your hair damp from the shower, and you're wearing a tank top and shorts, and he's glad you have a bra on this time. You're definitely not the same girl he dated back then. At all. "She wasn't too much trouble?" Your words jolt him out of his trance, and he forces himself to look at your eyes.

"No, she was not," he says, standing up before picking her up. He plants a small kiss on her head, but she's preoccupied with the toy in her hands to notice. "She was an angel." You sigh in relief, and Terushima moves her higher up on his hip. "Were you cooking something before I got here?" he asks, recalling something smelling really good vaguely filling his nostrils. Now, that smell has been replaced by your scent due to the fact you're standing so close to him.

"I was," you say, turning to walk into the kitchen, and he follows behind you while MJ smacks him in the face. "It was a new recipe," you continue, opening the oven. Terushima almost delays his response, his eyes zeroing on your ass again, but he manages to catch himself.

"New recipe for what?" he asks, and he's thankful when you stand up straight even though it's not that much better. When you set the pan down on the stove, you glance behind you nervously before speaking.

"It was a new recipe for cheeseburgers," you say, and he almost misses it, but he smirks as he walks around the island to stand beside you. You'd been keeping the burgers in the oven to keep them warm, and he looks down at them.

"They look really good," he comments. "You weren't thinking about me, were ya?" He has to jab at you, loving your reaction as you glare at him before looking down. "Can I try it?" he asks, and you nod before getting a knife to cut the burger in half. You grab a piece, bringing it to his mouth, and he puts the whole piece in his mouth, making sure to wraps his lips around your fingers briefly before pulling away.

The action has you feeling things that you shouldn't, and the moan he releases while he closes his eyes doesn't help either. "Oh, my God, that is amazing."

You feel your heart flutter at the compliment. "Really?" you ask softly, and he looks at you like you're crazy.

"Are you serious? This is the best thing I've ever tasted." He grabs the other half, stuffing it in his mouth before you can stop him. "Wow, you really are an amazing cook." You hate how easily your face heats up at the praise, and you just respond with a shrug. He reaches for another burger, and you grab his wrist before he can grab another one.

"You can't eat all of these!" you chastise. "I can make you some if you want me to." He uses the fact that you're still holding onto his wrist as an advantage, yanking his arm forward which causes you to bump into him. He barely moves, just wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you close to him.

"That sounds good. Thanks." You both lose yourselves in each other's eyes, time seeming to slow down as you feel your body going warm all over. God, you both missed being close to each other like this. You feel yourself starting to lean closer to him, your breaths started to mingle when MJ cries out, startling the both of you out of the spell you were in.

You jump away from him as you slightly shake your head. You did not almost kiss him. You quickly turn your attention to your niece, plucking her from his arm before walking back to the living room. Terushima sighs heavily as he puts the tray back into the oven, giving himself something to do to try to distract himself.

What would've happened if he had kissed you? Would you have kissed him back, or would you have pushed him away? He knows he's making some progress, but he doesn't know if kissing you would've ruined all of that. Do you want to kiss him? He sure wants to kiss you. He hasn't felt your lips on his in so long, and he wants to feel them so bad.

He forces those thoughts out of his head, and just as he's about to walk back into the living room, there's a knock on the door. "I'll get it," he tells you when he sees you about to stand up. He jogs to the door, and he opens it before almost being knocked down by two kids running past him.

"Boys, what did I tell you about that--Terushima?" The voice is filled with shock and confusion, and when he steadies himself, he looks at who's standing in front of him.

"Autumn?" he asks, and he steps to the side to let her in, closing the door behind him. "It's been a minute," he says, and she scoffs.

"It's been longer than a minute," she says almost in disbelief that he's standing in front of her. You walk to your sister with her daughter in your arms with your eyebrows raised.

"Aut, you wanna explain what this is?" you ask, gesturing towards the noisy boys running through your apartment. They run into your legs, both grabbing one, luckily you don't falter, still glaring holes into your sister.

"Auntie Via!" they both yell at the same time, Terushima wincing at the loud volume, and Autumn gives you a sheepish look.

"Look, something came up at the last minute, and I didn't know what else to do," she tells you, and you blink slowly.

"We have another sibling!" you argue, and she smiles at you.

"Yeah, but I don't trust him as much as I trust you," she says like that'll work, and you give her a deadpanned look. "I'm sorry, but I shouldn't be long, I promise. I owe you one," she continues, and you sigh as you roll your eyes.

"Fine," you give in, and she jumps up before giving you a hug on the side that isn't holding her daughter. She starts to head towards the door, and she waves goodbye to her kids, who really aren't paying her any mind, and she quickly slips out the door before they can see that she's leaving.

Your nephews are now focused on Terushima, prodding him with questions about his piercings and his tattoos. "I'm sorry about this," you tell him, and he looks up at you as he shrugs.

"I don't mind. I can stay if you want me to." He moves to go to the living room, but the boys jump on his legs, and he has to drag them to the living room as he walks.

"I can't ask you to do that," you say, smiling at him and your nephews.

"That's okay," he says, "You're not asking me. I'll stay," he concludes before sending a wink over his shoulder.

~

Turns out Autumn's "I won't be long" turned into five hours. Yeah, she definitely owes you. You're thankful that Terushima stayed, he was able to occupy the kids while you got stuff done that you had planned to do today. But you also hate how domestic it all felt, and it makes your heart do something weird. Like it doesn't know how to feel about the whole thing.

He even somehow managed to feed MJ while keeping your nephews distracted so that you could make dinner. You all eat in the living room, watching a movie that's more so for the boys, while MJ keeps herself entertained in her bouncer. When you all have finished, Terushima takes the dishes and even washes them before planting himself right next to you on the couch.

You notice that MJ is starting to get sleepy, she keeps rubbing her eyes and her bouncing is beginning to slow down. You grab her out of the bouncer, rocking her softly until she falls asleep. You're so glad that she doesn't fight sleep like her brothers did. You start to feel tired yourself, your eyelids feeling heavy, and Terushima seems to notice because he wraps his arm around you, pulling you into him.

You don't even fight it, his body heat pulling you further into sleep. As you're drifting off, you feel someone moving your arm, and you look down to see your nephews laying on either side of you and Terushima, laying down in your laps. You smile fondly as you rub his back before laying your head down on Terushima's shoulder. And before you fully fall asleep, you feel him kiss your forehead.

When Autumn uses her key to get into your place, she doesn't expect to see all of you asleep on the couch along with a questionable guy, but she can't help but smile as she pulls out her phone to take a picture. Once she's got them, she flicks your forehead. Your face scrunches up before you're blinking sleepily. "Oh, hey, you're back," you say, your voice filled with sleep. "Took you long enough."

She laughs quietly as she grabs MJ. "I know, I'm sorry," she whispers. "The twins weren't too much trouble, were they?" she asks, rocking her daughter back to sleep when she stirs.

"Then they usually are? No, not this time." You both exchange a soft chuckle before you carefully remove yourself out of Terushima's grip, not wanting to wake him, and you freeze when he shifts, but he just rolls his head to face the other way.

You help Autumn load her kids in the car, all of them still fast asleep. "I think they've only been asleep for about thirty minutes," you guestimate and she nods, but you know she wants to talk to you about the massive elephant in the room. You sigh. "Go ahead. Let it out."

"What the hell is he doing here? And in your apartment of all places?" You can hear a faint sound of disappointment in her voice considering the fact that you told her what he did to you and what led to your breakup.

You throw your hands up as you shrug. "I don't know. I didn't even know he was here. I found out when he caught me after I fell off my ladder." Her eyes go wide, and you wave her off before she can yell at you. "I didn't know he would be coming over here today either," you admit, and you sigh as you shove your hands into your jacket pockets.

"I just don't want you to get hurt again," she says, and you nod. "You've got nearly four years unaccounted for." You nod again, understanding what she's saying.

"I know, I know, but I don't know. He seems different now," you explain lamely, and you hear her sigh before you raise your head to meet hers.

"I know you don't want to hear a lecture from me, but be careful Via," she warns, and you nod firmly before moving in to give her a hug. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Text me when you get home," you tell her when you pull away. You watch her get in the car and drive off. You sigh again, watching the puff of air disappear into the chilly, night air before you make your way back to your apartment. You smile softly when you see that Terushima is still in the same position you left him in.

You take off your jacket, warming your hands up as you walk over to him. "Teru," you whisper, and when he doesn't respond, you tap him lightly. "Teru," you repeat, and you jump slightly when he grabs your wrist quickly, and he peels his eyes open.

"Your hands are freezing." You chuckle lightly as you see him look around. "The kids are gone?" he asks, rubbing his eyes with his palm.

"Yeah, my sister came and got them." He hums before he starts smiling widely, and your eyebrows come together as you look at him. "What are you smiling about?"

"You called me Teru." You feel your face heat up for the millionth time, and you scoff softly as you move to turn away, but he stops you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him. He starts to stretch out on the couch, but you don't move, and he pulls you down with a little more force. "Lay with me," he murmurs, his body starting to drift off.

"You need to go home," you tell him, the nickname on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back. He whines before pulling you down, making you fall onto him, and he traps you with his arms.

"I'll go home when I'm not tired." You chuckle again, situating yourself so that you're comfortable, and you notice that he's staring at you.

"What?" you ask, fighting the urge to shrink under his gaze. He brushes a strand of hair from your face before he rubs your cheek softly with his thumb, and you lean into the touch.

"You're just so beautiful," he whispers, and you huff as you look away, even your ears heating up at the compliment. "Hey." He turns your face so that you're looking at him again. "Can I kiss you?" There's something in your head that's telling you that you're already too deep and that doing this is a really bad idea, but it doesn't win.

You both lean in, and when your lips meet, you feel like you're back in high school, kissing him for the first time all over again. Tingles are sent all through your body as you sigh contently, and you feel yourself falling in love with him all over again. You know this is bad, but you can't bring yourself to care, blaming it on your fatigue.

He pulls away, a sleepy smirk on his face as he pulls you closer to him, your face buried in his neck. "Man, I've missed you so much." You feel your heart flutter at his words, and you're scared to respond with the same thing even though it's clear as day, but the soft snores filling your ears tell you that you don't have to worry about response right now.

Things seemed to do a complete one-eighty after that night. You thought when you would've woken up the next day, things would've been awkward, but to your surprise, you found yourself alone on the couch, and the smell of breakfast food filling your nose. He had made you breakfast, then sent you off to work with a kiss goodbye and a promise to call you later, which you wish you've would've let out when you were telling everything to Kiya.

"So, you guys are dating now?" she asks as she pours a cup of coffee for a customer.

"I don't know, I wouldn't call it that?" you say, unsure of where you both really stand right now. You serve two more plates to a table, and Kiya continues the conversation when you come back.

"But you guys have kissed?" she argues, and you respond with a shrug. "I don't know, from what you've told me, it seems like you two are back together."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic about it," you notice, and she replies with a pout as she tilts her head and you sigh. "Look, I know how things left off between us, but we'll talk about it," you try, and she holds her hands up.

"I'm not trying to tell you who to date or what to do. I just want you to be careful." You nod quickly at the repeat of words, and you really appreciate how much Kiya and Autumn care for you, and you smile as you nudge her.

"I know, thanks for looking out for me," you tell her, and she gives you a smile.

"Of course, that's what I'm here for."

Naturally, things are very prone to blow up in your face, and the blow-up happens about three weeks later. Everything with Terushima has been going pretty smoothly, both of you agreeing to talk about how things were left those years ago. He had been spending a lot more time over at your place, even more than you were spending at his. He'd been helping you babysit whenever your sister had to drop them off. It was like he had inched his way back into your life and planted himself there.

You decided to surprise him and make some of the burgers that he loved the first he came over. You can't help but bound happily to his apartment, the burgers in a plastic container, warm in your hands, and you finally get to his apartment, but just as you're about to knock, you hear laughing. Your hand stops midway as you lean in to put your ear against the door, careful not to alert anyone inside.

You assume it was the TV, but as you listen closely, you can hear Terushima's voice, but you feel your heart shatters when you hear a woman's voice coming from inside. You feel the tears forming in your eyes as you take in more of the conversation before you hear them erupt into laughter.

You finally find it in you to move, slamming the container on the ground before hurrying away from the door, your vision blurry from the tears. You were so stupid, so pathetic. You were so easy, that you fell for it. Again. And you thought that he had changed. You were dumb enough to think that things would be different this time around.

~

You don't tell anyone what happened, and you don't talk to Terushima. You don't even tell him what you heard, you just stop talking to him. It's not like you had time anyway. You and Kiya were hosting a Christmas party are your shop (her idea, not yours) and you barely had any time to really sit down and breathe. You both spent all day making the food, that you barely had time to sit down.

You luckily had enough time to run home and get in the shower to get ready. You came back just in time for the party to be in full swing, both you and Kiya's families here along with some friends. You've greeted everyone, and now you're just standing around, enjoying the atmosphere around you, while at the same time feeling a little bit insecure about the dress that Kiya made you wear.

It's a red sweater dress that's off the shoulder, but it hugs your body, stopping very close to the bottom of your ass with thigh-high boots. Why she had you wear this, you have no idea, but you decide that you're going to go change when she's preoccupied. "Via." You turn around, your heart dropping at the sight of him in front of you, and you hate how good he looks right now.

He walks closer to you, and his scent fills your nostrils, the way he fills out his suit should be illegal. "You look, wow," he says, shaking his head at a loss for words.

"Ridiculous, I know," you say, pulling at the hem of your dress and he scoffs.

"Gorgeous." You want to accept the compliment, but just looking at him makes you angry and upset at the same time. You mumble a soft thanks, and you're trying to find an excuse to get out of this conversation when he speaks up again. "You haven't been answering my texts or my calls," he starts, and you look away from him as you find an answer.

"Terushima, listen--"

"Via?" You turn your head towards the soft voice, and your eyes widen at the man walking towards you. He gives you a hug, and you reluctantly hug him back, disarray raging inside of your head.

"Kaleb! What are you doing here?" you ask incredulously, and he gives you a quick look of confusion before it's replaced with a smile.

"You invited me?" You raise your eyebrows. You did not invite this man to this party. You didn't even invite Terushima, and they coincidentally show up here? You internally roll your eyes. Kiya.

"I did, didn't I?" you lie. "Right, I'm sorry, I forgot, I've just been so busy." You haven't spoken to Kaleb in about a month. He was the recent guy you were seeing, and he was alright, but he really wasn't your type. You didn't even have his number saved in your phone. You sense even more tension in the air as Terushima and Kaleb stare each other down, and you definitely need way more alcohol.

"Terushima this is Kaleb. Kaleb this is Terushima." They both shake each other's hand, but the tension only seems to get thicker, and you feel like you're suffocating in it.

"If you guys would excuse me for a minute. I'm just going to check on the food," you rush out, not waiting for a response before darting off to find the culprit. When you spot her, you yank her to the side, and if looks could kill she'd drop dead on the spot. "You invited them both here?!" you yell, making sure to keep your voice lower than the music.

"Both? Who are you talking about?" You rub your forehead, feeling the stress really starting to hit you. This was the last thing you expected and you really don't need this right now.

"You invited Terushima and the guy that I ghosted a while ago." You sigh heavily, rubbing the back of your neck as her eyes go wide.

"Oh, shit. I did accidentally text a wrong number by accident, but I thought it was nothing." You give her a tired look, and she tilts her head in confusion. "I mean, it's gonna be okay, but you sound even more frustrated."

You sigh again. This really isn't the place to tell her, but you were going to tell her eventually. "I heard a woman's voice when I went to Terushima's apartment a couple of days ago."

"What?!" she nearly screams, her eyes wide before she slaps a hand over her mouth, realizing how loud she was. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. Because there was just a lot going on, and I didn't want to be sad during the holidays or ruin yours, but that plan has failed miserably." You laugh bitterly, feeling completely drained.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Via. I didn't know." She reaches up to rub your arm as you shake your head.

"No, it's okay. You didn't know." You close your eyes as you take a deep breath, regrouping yourself. "It's okay. We'll worry about it later, 'kay?" You don't let her answer as you walk off, ignoring her calls of your name.

You linger around the party, hoping you don't run into Terushima, but your eyes land on him talking to your mom like they've been friends for years, and it feels like someone ripped your heart out of your chest. How could he just go about his life knowing that he was playing you? Just like he did before.

"Via?" A soft voice and soft hand shift your attention to Kaleb who's come up next to you, and you smile despite the fact that you feel like complete shit and that you're tired. Physically, mentally, and emotionally.

"Hi, Kaleb, what's up?" you ask, and he hands you a drink which you gratefully take, almost downing the whole thing in front of him.

"It's just, um, you're standing somewhere pretty cool." You look at him in confusion before you glance up, seeing mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. Kiya must've put this in last minute. You feel your stress building up as you look at him, chuckling softly.

"I guess I am." You know he's going to kiss you, and you've never been so conflicted in your entire life. You don't really want to, but you want to, secretly hoping that Terushima's watching so that he can feel how you're feeling right now. But at the same time, you just wanna go home and cry yourself to sleep.

You've been quiet, your thought preventing you from answering, and you feel his lips on yours, and you feel your body sag slightly at the fact that you don't feel a spark from kissing him unlike when you kiss Terushima. When you pull away, you just happen to look to your right to see a very pissed off Terushima.

You see him shake his head before heading out of the door, and you hand your drink to Kaleb. "I'm sorry, I have to do something, I'll be right back." You rush to the door, disregarding your jacket as you follow Terushima out. "You got a problem or something?" you ask angrily, and he stops in his tracks, his back facing you for a few seconds before he turns around.

"Yeah, I do. You're over here leading me on while you're kissing other guys." You scoff at his accusation.

"Oh, like you're not doing the same thing," you spit back, and he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Excuse me? I haven't been seeing anyone else besides you, but you obviously have other plans."

"You know you have some real balls to accuse me of leading you on when that's all you did the entire time we were dating." He goes to speak, but you cut him off. "No! You entertained girls all the time, sometimes right in front of me. How you reacted to them is not how you're supposed to react when you have a girlfriend. Do you know how pathetic I felt?!" The tears are spilling, and you don't have any more will to stop them.

"I felt so stupid. You made me feel so...ugly." You see his face soften, but you don't wanna hear what he has to say. "And you're accusing me when you had a girl in your apartment a couple of days ago." His eyes widen at that, and he stops his trek towards you.

"What are you talking about?" You scoff as you throw your hands up. You'll have to spell this one out for him too.

"I went to your apartment to give you the burgers that you wanted, but when I went to knock on the door, I heard your voice laughing with another woman's voice." You see his face drop in realization, and he starts to wave his hands. "Did you both enjoy my burgers?" you ask, your voice cracking as more tears fall down your face.

Terushima recalls hearing something fall outside of his door, and when he opened it, he saw the burgers, but he didn't think anything of it. He should've been more aware. How could he be so stupid?

"Wait, Via, baby, that wasn't what it looked like, I swear--"

You chuckle bitterly. "You expect me to believe that?! Because that was the same shit you told me four years ago!" You're past done. You're exhausted. "Fuck you, Yuuji Terushima for being the same piece of shit guy you were four years ago! And for breaking my heart again." Your voice breaks when you say again, and Terushima feels his heart breaking into a million pieces. "I never want to see your face again."

You turn around quickly making your way back into your shop while Terushima stands there frozen, letting you walk out of his life once again. The words you just spoke to him the exact same words you said back then. He feels the tears on his face before he registers them. How could this happen? How did it all go so wrong so fast?

You walk back into the party, thankful that you didn't put mascara on as you wipe your face off, and Kiya walks up to you. "Girlfriend, are you okay?!" she asks you, concern etched all over her face as she pulls you to the side.

"No, I'm not," you tell her honestly. "But, this is a party, and we're supposed to have fun. So, that's what I'm going to do." For what seems like the tenth time tonight, you walk off without waiting for a response.

After everyone left the party, that's when you decided to get yourself drunk. You usually don't drink this much, but you couldn't bring yourself to think about anything else. Kiya takes you home, and she stays with you as you scream, cry, rant until you finally crash on your bed due to a mix of the alcohol and your emotions being all over the place.

She sighs worriedly at your figure, and sits next to you on the bed, brushing her hand over your head before your face which is stained with tear tracks. Your phone on your nightstand rings and Kiya picks it up, seeing that it's Terushima and she rolls her eyes before hitting the decline button. She sees that he's called you non-stop through the night, and she scoffs again. She's pretty sure she could get away with murder.

When the phone rings for the fourth time, Kiya angrily picks it up. "Via, baby, I am so sorry, please listen to me, it was just a misunderstanding--"

"Olivia can't come to the phone right now," Kiya cuts him off curtly. "She's passed out because a fucking piece of shit decided to walk back in her life and break her heart the same fucking way he did four years ago," she spits, and she hears him sigh heavily before he sniffles.

"Kiya, you gotta let me explain, please let me explain." He sounds completely wrecked, Kiya can barely understand what he's saying.

"I don't think so, Terushima. You barely deserved a second chance, and you definitely don't deserve a third. Goodbye."

"Wait, wait, wait! Please! Please let me explain!" He's practically yelling in her ear, and she knows that if she hangs up on him he'll just keep calling. But she's also never heard him like this before.

"Fine. You have five minutes."

It's been roughly a week since one of the lowest moments of your life, and you're not entirely healed, but you definitely feel better, and you swore off getting that drunk ever again due to the awful headache you had when you woke up the next morning. Right now, you were hanging with Kiya, which she fully insisted for whatever reason, and you assume it's just because she wanted to spend time with you before the new year.

"He proposed?!" you yell as you practically throw yourself off the couch. Kiya laughs as she nods. "What? Show me the ring!" you demand, and she holds her hand out which you quickly take into yours to examine her finger. "Woah, that is expensive," you comment as your eyes go wide.

She pulls her hand back as she agrees before looking at it again, her eyes full of love and happiness. You can't help the ping of jealously that stabs at your heart, but you push it away, replacing it with the happiness for your best friend. "So, I'm obviously going to be the maid of honor," you say matter-of-factly, and she laughs as she rolls her eyes.

"Of course you are. There's no one else I would want it to be." You both talk for a couple more hours, and you look at the clock on your phone.

"I should probably go. I don't want to implode on the newly engaged couple. He's going to be home soon, right?" you ask, standing and stretching.

"Yeah, but it's okay, you can stay. We won't mind." You shake your head as you start to gather your things.

"It's okay. I've got a bunch of takeout and some wine calling my name at home." You slip on your coat and your boots. That's mostly the reason why. The other reason why is that you really don't want to see any happy couples right now. That's just putting salt in a wound that's slowly healing. "Congratulations again, Kiya. I'll text you when I get home." She nods while walking you to the door, and she watches you walk to your car and drive off before closing the door.

You yawn loudly when you get home, kicking your boots off and throwing your jacket onto the couch. You decide that you're going to take a nap first, and then you'll eat, and as you walk to your room, you feel something under your feet. At first, you thought it was something weird on your sock, but when you keep feeling it, you look down to see rose petals?

You turn back to the door. You had locked the door when you left, and you just unlocked the door when you came home, so...

"Hello?" you call out into the quiet apartment, but you receive no response, and you follow the trail of rose petals, assuming that this is possibly the way that you're going to go out. The trail stops at your door, and you slide the door open, gasping when you see what's inside.

The lights are off, the only light being provided is from the vanilla-scented candles all over the room. There are rose petals all over the place, and there are vases of your favorite flowers spread out across the room, and standing in the middle of it is Terushima.

He's facing you, wringing his hands together nervously as he watches you take in the new changes made. "What is all this?" you ask in disbelief, and he steps forward before he speaks.

"An apology. I mean, I don't really think I can make up for the pain that I've caused you, but there's been a huge misunderstanding." You sigh softly as you look away.

"Terushima..." you start, and he startles you when he falls to his knees before grabbing your hands.

"Via, I'm begging you to let me explain. If you let me explain, then I'll be out of your hair. You won't hear from me ever again. And I know I don't deserve this, but please, please, let me explain." You only respond with a nod, mostly because of how he's acting right now. "For starters, I am so sorry for how I've made you feel. This year and four years ago. It was never my intention to make you cry or to break your heart, and I did both of those things, and so much more."

He takes a deep breath before speaking again. "Second, that girl in my apartment is not what you think," he tells you firmly making you roll your eyes, and he quickly starts speaking again. "I know, I know, but let me explain." He quickly pulls his phone out of his pocket like he's afraid that you're going to leave.

You watch as he brings up a conversation with a number before scrolling up to a certain part of the conversation, and he turns the phone to you. You hesitantly grab the phone, looking at him before bringing your eyes to look at the phone. You scroll through the messages, the messages themselves not outright telling you that he was seeing another girl.

One of them says 'it'll be ready in a couple of days,' another one says that 'you can meet me at my place.' That one's from Terushima. You hand him back the phone, not convinced at all. "You told her she could meet you at your place."

"And I should've realized how that would've looked. I was stupid, I wasn't thinking, and I'm sorry." You gesture to the phone.

"What was supposed to be ready?" you ask, your voice full of disinterest, and he quickly pockets the phone before reaching into his front pocket. Your eyes widen when he pulls out a box small enough for a ring, and he grabs your hand before you have the chance to move.

He opens it to reveal a small, simple ring with your birthstone in it. "Terushima..." you trail off, and he shakes his head.

"It's not what it looks like. It's a promise ring." A soft, surprised expression comes over your face. "It's a promise to you that I'm going to be better. Everyone knows that I don't deserve you, but this is a promise to you that I'm going to become the man that you deserve." Now you feel the tears coming, and he keeps going.

"It's a promise that I'm never going to hurt you again." He stands up quickly, your head now lifting upward to look him in the eyes. "Olivia, you mean the world to me. There's no else but you, there hasn't been, and there never will be." He takes the ring out of the box, setting the box on your dresser.

"I love you so much that it hurts. You're all I ever think about as soon as I wake up to the moment I go to sleep. Please, give me another chance. I promise I won't make you regret it." The tears are falling more frequently, and you wipe them away.

"How do I know you're not lying?" you ask quietly, trying to keep your weak resolve up. He steps closer to you.

"You know that I'm not lying," he tells you confidently, his gaze never wavering from yours, and you sigh knowing that he's right. He's one of the worst liars you've ever met, having tells for days. And none of them are showing. You're still fighting it in your head, looking down away from him, and he tilts it back up by your chin.

"Please. I will never make you feel that way ever again. I promise." He tells you firmly, his voice solid. Terushima feels like his heart explodes when you nod your head. He slides the ring onto your finger before wiping the tears from your eyes. He's so happy he could cry. He plants his lips on yours quickly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling him into him.

"Please, let me show you," he pleads after he pulls away, holding your face in his hands.

"Okay." That's all he needs before he's picking you up, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carries you to the bed, and he never breaks the kiss as you land on your back. He moves you further up on the bed before moving his lips to your neck, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses on your skin.

Your hands move to his hair as you feel him biting marks into your skin, and you know that you're going to look like a freaking leopard tomorrow. He pulls your shirt off, throwing it somewhere off to the side, your bra soon following, and he doesn't waste any time attacking your breasts, one hand stimulating one while his mouth is on the other.

He pulls your hardened nipples between his teeth and his fingers at the same time, making your back arch off the bed at the different feelings. After marking up one breast, he moves to the other, doing the same thing before he starts to kiss down your abdomen.

He looks up at you when he reaches the waistband of your sweatpants, and you nod quickly as he groans seeing how your pupils are blown with lust. He quickly gets rid of your sweats, groaning again when he sees the growing wet spot across your crotch.

He licks a broad stripe up your covered cunt, both of you moaning simultaneously as you squeeze his head with your thighs. He makes quick work of your panties, almost ripping them with how eager he is to taste you. He digs his fingers into your thighs, almost entranced by your naked sex, and he teases you a bit more by marking up your thighs, whining when he pulls the skin between his teeth.

"Yuuji, stop teasing," you whine, and he smiles wickedly before he spreads your legs.

"I gotcha, pretty girl," he coos before licking another stripe through your folds, the action so sudden that it makes you jump slightly. His hands press your legs into the mattress as he eats you out like you're his last meal. "You taste so fucking good," he moans, the vibrations only elevating the feeling, and the taste of you on his tongue and the sounds you're making are like heaven, and he's close to blowing his load that he has to force himself to hold back.

He moves up to your clit, running circles over it with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, making the grip on his hair tightening just shy of painful. He prods a finger at your hole before slowly inching his way in, and he ruts against the bed to find some release. You already feel so good on his finger, so he can only imagine what you'll feel like when you take his dick.

He slides another finger in while continuing to use his mouth on your clit, stretching you out before sliding in a third. He curls his fingers, hitting that spot inside of you with ease, making you release a loud moan. "Teru," you gasp, and he smirks against you.

"You close, baby?" he prods, already knowing the answer. He keeps curling his fingers, the squelching sounds almost overpowering your moans, and he feels you pulling at his hair, this time painful, but he can't bring himself to care as he licks up your clit making sure his piercing strikes it.

You cum with a scream, and he moans when you clench on his fingers, but he keeps going, his fingers seeming to go deeper inside of you, and a weird feeling sits in your core, and you try to push him away, but he keeps going until you feel another release.

"Fuck. Holy shit, babe." You come down from your high, gasping for air as you watch him come up with your juices all over his face while he sucks his fingers clean. "You just squirted." You move to cover your face with your hands but he stops you. "Don't be ashamed. That was really hot," he admits, licking around his mouth to get some more.

He kisses you hungrily, and you moan as you taste yourself on his tongue and when his piercing knocks against your teeth. He hisses and breaks the kiss when you palm his straining erection through his jeans. "Do you want me to return the favor?" you ask, still breathless from your previous orgasm, and he lightly brushes your hand away as he shakes his head.

"Later, right now is all about you," he tells you, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close to you.

"Then I want you to fuck me," you whisper against his lips, and he groans before making quick work of his shirt and his jeans. You can see a huge wet spot in the front of his briefs, and he gets rid of them quickly, his dick smacking his abdomen once it's free.

He stands at the edge of the bed, lazily stroking himself, and you feel your mouth go dry at how beautiful he is, so you tell him, and he responds with a soft chuckle, but you can see his face deepen with a blush at the compliment. "Nah, that's all you, baby girl." He smirks when he sees your eyes widening once they land on the pair of metal balls at the head of his length. "You like it?" he quips, and you just gulp, your eyes having a hard time looking away from the angry red tip dripping with pre.

His eyes drag down your figure, making you hot all over and he moves onto the bed, hovering himself over you. "You're so gorgeous. The prettiest woman I've ever met." You don't have time to feel flustered by his words because he leans down to kiss you, this one different from the previous ones.

This one is softer and filled with love, but still has the same amount of passion and hunger. "I have a condom," he tells you when he pulls away, and you shake your head.

"I wanna feel you," you tell him, lust dripping in your words, and he bites back a moan as he gives you one last kiss before guiding his dick towards your leaking hole. He pumps himself a few more times before sliding in, and you can't help the whine that falls from your lips.

It's been so long since you've felt him inside of you. And it's an addicting feeling you didn't even know you were missing until now. "Fuck, you are so tight. Shit." He bottoms out, stretching you in the best possible way, and he rests his head against yours.

"Move, Yuuji," you urge, and he nods while he pants.

"I know, baby, I know, give me a second. Fuck." He takes a few more deep breaths, and when he's sure that he's not going to bust just from how warm you feel, he backs up until only the tip is inside and he rams back into you, making the bed knock against the wall.

You cry out, your arms wrapping around his neck again as he repeatedly slams back into you, the feeling of the piercing rubbing against your walls foreign, but it feels so good. He keeps shifting his hips until he finds that spongy spot inside of you, and he grips the headboard, using it as leverage to piston that spot, and you feel like you're going to explode with pleasure.

You rake your nails down his back, and he feels it hit every nerve ending all over his body, and his hips falter just a tad when you clench around him. "Fuck, baby, touch yourself for me, please touch yourself," he spills out, knowing he's not going to last much longer.

You bring your hand down to roll hard circles on your bud, clenching at the sudden stimulation, and Terushima shudders. "Feels so good, Yuuji," you moan out, and he can't help but reciprocate it as his face scrunches up in pleasure.

"You feel too good, baby, oh my God." You can sense that he's close, so you clench around him again, and that's what send him over the edge, letting out a shout of your name as his hot seed shoots into you.

He doesn't stop moving though. He brings one hand down to your shoulder and fucks into you harder than he had before. He whines at the overstimulation, but he's determined to get you there. "Cum for me, baby, cum for me."

With one last hard thrust, you cum hard, back arching off the bed as you scream his name while Terushima moans at you coming undone under him. Your back meets the bed again, and Terushima rests his head on your forehead as you both catch your breath.

He pulls out of you slowly, wincing at the overwhelming feeling of pleasure mixing with pain before he gets up and makes his way to the bathroom the best he can on shaky legs. You feel yourself starting to drift off, and you jump when you feel something warm at your core.

"Sorry, I gotta clean you up," he tells you softly, wiping the mix of your juices away before putting the rag in the sink in the bathroom. He comes back, pulling the blankets down and getting in before pulling you into his chest. "I love you so much, Olivia. And I am so sorry. I won't make you regret giving me another chance."

You look up at him with a sleepy smile and sleepy eyes before sitting up to kiss him. "I love you too, and I forgive you, maybe," you joke, and you giggle when he pinches your side.

The rhythm of his heartbeat and the finger dragging up and down your arm lulls you to sleep fast, and the last thing you remember is hearing "goodnight."

~

Terushima wakes up before you, the sunlight bleeding in through the blinds and into his eyes. He takes a deep breath in and looks around, thankful that he remembered to blow out the candles before he went to sleep. He looks down to see you still sleeping peacefully, and he feels his heart do a somersault. He finally has you and he going to make sure that you don't leave. Not again.

He never realized what he was taking for granted until you broke up. He had slept with a few other girls, but they weren't you. All he could think about was you. He even got kicked out of a girl's place naked because he accidentally called her by your name. He pulls you closer to him, and you stir slightly, moving your head so that it's angled more towards his.

He thinks you look ethereal. The way the sunlight makes your brown skin glow almost makes him melt. He runs a finger down your sleeping face lightly before brushing the hair out of your face. "I'm sorry for being so stupid," he starts even know he knows you can't hear him. "I didn't realize what I had lost until it was too late. I wish I could go back in time so I could fix it or beat myself up, one or the other," he jokes laughing softly. "Probably both."

He rubs your back softly. "I don't even know if I have enough words to describe how much you mean to me. I should've never entertained those girls, like I said I was an absolute idiot, and to be honest, I didn't think you would've given me a second chance. I would've understood if you didn't." He holds you a little tighter. "But I'm glad that you did. I love you, and I'm going to keep saying it until you get tired of it, but I want you to know that. I want you to know that it's true and that I seriously mean it."

He takes a deep breath. "After the Christmas party, I cried so hard I almost threw up." He laughs bitterly, he doesn't really know why he's saying this, but he feels like he should get it off his chest. "That night it felt like my heart had been ripped out and stomped on multiple times. I only have myself to blame though. And I figured that must've been what you felt like because of me, and that happened to you twice.

"I was almost in hysterics. I kept calling your phone, but you never answered, and when I was about to give up, Kiya picked up the phone." He laughs again." And she almost hung up on me until I explained to her everything that happened and the huge misunderstanding that caused all of this. She held me put this whole plan together actually. She got you out of your apartment so I could do all of this."

He looks down at you again, giving you a kiss on your forehead. "I hope you stay with me forever. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You really are sappy in the morning." Your groggy voice makes him jump, and you smile as you struggle to hold back your laugh, peeling your eyes open to reveal a very red Terushima.

"You were awake?!" he asks, and you laugh fully as you nod. "You heard everything?!"

You nod again. "I did, I'm sorry. I thought you were talking in your sleep, but I realized it was too coherent for it to be sleep talk." You sit up, resting your hand on his chest and putting your chin on top. "Did you mean everything you said?"

He responds quickly. "Every word." You fight back tears as he pulls you in for another kiss, his hand resting on the back of your head softly. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Yuuji Terushima."

EPILOGUE:

"Teru, you're not taking me to the woods to kill me, are you?" you ask, looking around blindly due to the blindfold wrapped around your eyes. You hear him laugh as you feel him take another turn.

"No, I'll do that for our next anniversary." You laugh as you try to figure out where you are. Terushima had woken you up saying that he was going to show you your anniversary present, but then he blindfolded you and led you to the car. "Stop trying to figure out where we are with your weird powers!" he yells at you, and you nudge at him while playing with your necklace that he got for you after you both made up. It has his name on it, and he bought a matching chain with your name on it.

"It's not my fault I know this city like the back of my hand." You feel him take another turn, and you close your eyes as you try to narrow it down. "Are we in a subdivision?" You smirk when you hear him groan, knowing you guessed right.

"Can you please stop? You'll ruin the surprise."

"It's hard to focus on anything else," you admit, and you quickly go quiet when you feel his hand rubbing up and down your thigh.

"It is hard now?" he asks you, lowly, and you feel your core clench at his words and his actions. Now you can't focus on anything but his hand, but you're abruptly pulled from his actions when you feel the car stop. You hear him turn the car off and you hear his door open and close while you take your seatbelt off.

Your door opens, and he's guiding you out of the car. "You ready?"

You jump excitedly in impatience. "Yes, yes, hurry up!" He peels off the blindfold, and you blink a few times, letting your eyes adjust to the light before they focus on a two-story house. "A house?" You feel something cold touch your hand, and you look down to see a pair of keys in your hand.

"Our house." Your eyes go wide as you snap your head up to look at Terushima before looking back at the house. "Happy anniversary, baby."

"Are you fucking serious?!" you say, jumping into his arms, almost taking him out before you run towards the door, unlocking it as fast you can. Terushima smiles at you fondly as he follows you around the house as you tour it.

"This bedroom's kinda small though," he comments, looking around, and you step in the room, spinning around as you look at the room before stopping to face Terushima.

"I don't know. I think it's the perfect room for a nursery," you admit, and you see him shrug as he looks around again before the words dawn on him. He almost breaks his neck to look at you, and you smile widely as you nod.

"You're fucking serious?! I'm gonna be a dad?!" He runs to you, picking you and spinning you around. You both laugh loudly before he sets you down, pulling you into a loving kiss that leaves you breathless.

"Happy anniversary, Yuuji."

A/N: If you stayed this long thank you for reading, but if you didn’t, I don’t blame you LMAO

[asphora]

Marigolds | csc

wc: 5,569 | angst, hanahaki disease, seungcheol x reader, f!reader, non-idol!verse, cursing, character death, tw:sickness, tw:death

a/n: I’ve been in a slump and in a really bad place recently, but out of nowhere this came to me and somehow writing it made me feel better? idk. Also, I recommend listening to Yiruma’s Prelude in Gm. It’s such a beautiful piece. Anyway, thank you.

Love can often look like so many things that don’t seem like love.

The night the world stops spinning is the night you see her for the first time. You’d known of her existence long before you’d even had the misfortune of laying your eyes on her, from stories and various retellings enthusiastically recounted to you by your group of 13 male friends. Their words had made her something of a phantasmagoric collection of enchanting and enigmatic quirks and traits, something otherworldly; brave and spontaneous, fun but equally intelligent. But for all their praise, you figured their words were just that. 

Nodding along as Seungcheol prattled on about her ardently, you silently listened, finding some semblance of solace knowing that there was no person without flaws. To you, she seemed more like a Monet than anything; something beautiful to behold, but only from a distance. The closer anyone got, surely the more the cracks would start to show and for all her magic and mystery, you figured soon enough the boys, particularly Seungcheol, would soon realize the truth: that there was no such thing as magic. Only real people, with their flaws and undone seams, haphazardly strewn together.

That night the music blared in your ears, despite coming from the next room where Soonyoung was drunkenly DJing. Around you were throngs of people, a mix of strangers and friends alike, bodies danced intoxicatedly moving to the beat reverberating through the walls of the frat-house. 

When you see him, you can’t fight the smile that spreads on your lips. Your hand is already raised, ready to wave him down and wrap him in the embrace you two always shared.  You don’t know it yet, but that night is different from all the others; the beginning of the end. 

It only takes him few steps more for you to see that his hand, which is usually stuffed into his pockets, is prettily decorated by her dainty one; milky skin seemingly unmarred by the harsh yellow lighting in the crowded living room and her ring finger ornamented by a big bright rock you recalled seeing at Seungcheol’s apartment a week prior. 

Immediately your hand falls to your side and you take a step back, disappearing effortlessly into the crowd as your watchful eyes are trained on the couple. She with her red silk dress that seemed to accentuate and hug her body in the most complimentary way, and him in his usual all black ensemble that definitely did not betray the senses, showcasing his toned body through the fabric. They looked more like they belonged on the front of some expensive travel or style catalogue. 

You would have described the pair as one that stuck out like a sore thumb, but that wasn’t the case. As they waded through the waves of people—his arms wrapped gently around her, never faltering in their protective hold on her—they seemed to put everyone else to shame. It wasn’t that they didn’t belong at this party, it was that they made everyone else look like they shouldn't have been there. 

As you watch them laughing and dancing, whispering, faces always close to each other’s, you realize that she is not the mirage you had made her out to be in your head. She’s everything they said she was, and even more, she bore his heart. 

“Seungcheol!” the bellowing voices of 13 other boys pull you from your thoughts and suddenly, you go from a passive by-stander simply basking in the glow of the couple, to the forefront of all the excitement as Mingyu finds you in the crowd and pulls you by the arm to where Seungcheol and the others are standing. 

Dark chocolate irises that you’ve known all your life and have practically memorized at this point meet your own and that’s the last color you register along with the sounds of cheering and shouting of joyous congratulations, before everything becomes a blur of motion as your legs will you through the halls of the frat house you practically lived at. After that all you see is orange—bright, fiery, blazing orange. 

As you sink onto the floor of Jihoon’s bathroom, vision bleary from the pain, you press your cheek onto the tile taking whatever comfort you can from their soothing coolness. 

‘Marigolds,’ you chuckle at the irony of just how fitting it is, the sound coming out more of a garbled cough than a laugh due to the burning in your throat, 'in the language of flowers, it meant despair, grief and jealousy.'

As you shift in and out of consciousness, the alcohol in your system working too well with the pain in your chest and throat, forcing you under, you reach your hand out, fingers trying to grasp at the orange blossoms. You hadn’t even made it to the toilet. 

‘Sorry Woozi,’ you think in your last moments of consciousness, ‘promise I’ll clean it later. It just hurts too much right now.’

And that’s how the said male finds you. 

Once the party is done, Jihoon retreats to his quarters only slightly tipsy since he wasn’t much of a drinker anyway like the rest of the guys. There you are, passed out in the middle of his bathroom floor, lying in what at first glance seemed to be clouds of fire.

If he hadn’t know exactly what he was looking at, he would’ve thought the sight to be beautiful, immaculate even; your  limp form swimming in a sea of marigolds, hands outstretched and gripping some of the fresh blooms in your hands, dark hair splayed out across the flowers in stark contrast to the vibrant orange beneath, and your face though tearstained was adorned with loose petals sticking to your skin. 

His bathroom had never smelled so nice, he thought despite knowing you’d vomited these flowers. Never in his life had he seen Marigolds as vibrant as these, so alive and in full bloom, as though spring had come in the middle of winter to take up residence in his bathroom; the sight would put Demeter to shame. But he knew the truth of it; this sight was anything but that of life. You were dying. 

***

“You have to get the surgery, y/n.” Jihoon sighs the words onto the skin of your forearm where there are various tubes sticking out of you, seemingly the only things keeping you somewhat alive. 

You can tell by the way he says it that he’s beyond exhausted, that these are words that he’s tired of saying, that this is a plea he and all the other 11 boys from your friend group are tired of begging you for. You don’t say anything, and your silence only makes him more irked. 

“If you aren’t going to get the surgery, at least tell him the truth,” Jihoon attempts to reason with you, “he deserves to know the truth, or even just the chance to save his best friend. You can’t avoid him forever, and you sure as hell can’t just suddenly die and leave him wondering how the fuck that happened.” 

Jihoon’s crass words make you laugh, a breathy quiet chagrin that slips from your lips sounding more like a cough than mirth. He’s so fed up with you that he doesn’t even bother to choose his words wisely, not like how he was when this all started a month ago. 

“He hasn’t even tried to visit me.” At that he rolls his eyes.

“Because you won’t let him. You won’t even let us tell him that you’re in the hospital. As far as he knows your back home with your parents getting better, not here in Seoul, in a hospital, fucking dying.”

This time, it’s your turn to roll your eyes and admonish him, albeit weaker compared to his display. “I get it Woozi, I’m dying, I don’t have much longer to live. Tell me something the doctors haven’t, I get it—”

“No, you don’t!” His booming voice suddenly cuts you off. For the first time in your long friendship with him, he raises his voice at you. 

“You don’t get it,” you watch him as he shakes his head, “you say you get it, that you know you’re dying, but you don’t. You’re acting like this is a small thing, that it’ll go away sooner or later, but it isn’t. It’s either you get the surgery or you’re dead, done, gone forever. There won’t even be anything left of you to love that oblivious, unworthy asshole you call your best friend.

“A real best friend would be more worried about you, would be here, breaking down doors and begging me and the rest of the guys to let him see you, he’d at the very least, demand to be able to visit you and not be running around having fun with his whatever-she-is while you’re dying.” 

Tears fill Jihoon’s eyes as he paces, arms angrily flailing as he rants to and at you. That’s when Wonwoo, seemingly forgotten in the corner, ever the quiet spectator and your next closest friend after Jihoon and Seungcheol, steps in to place a calming hand on Jihoon’s heaving chest. 

“Jihoon,” Wonwoo’s thick baritone pierces through the sound of Jihoon’s angry breaths, “that’s enough. Look at her, she’s crying.” 

You hadn’t realized it until Wonwoo had pointed out, but your face was hot with moisture, and your patient’s gown was soaked down the front with the tears that had run off your face. Jihoon seeing this seems to snap out of his trance, his stance relaxing and his eyes growing soft. 

“Sorry, y/n, I-I didn’t mean, I—”

“It’s okay Jihoonie,” you hadn’t used that nickname in a long time, not since Seungcheol had practically thrown a fit, banning you from calling any of the others by cute nicknames, “it’s okay, don’t be sorry, I get it.” 

Giving him and Wonwoo the warmest smile you can muster in your weakened state, you open your arms out for them, their strong sturdy forms quick to bend to fill the tiny space of your arms, wrapping your frail form in their own warmth. 

“Don’t worry,” you whisper the words onto the tops of their heads, petting the hair there, “I get it, I do. You don’t have to be sorry. I’m scared too.” 

The admission of your own fear wracks a brand-new sob through your chest that you hadn’t known you were holding back, and immediately you’re crying a fresh batch of tears onto the fabric of their shirts. 

“I don’t want to die,” you wail despite the scratching of your throat as you clutch the fabric of their shirts into clenched fists, “but I can’t, I don’t want to—I can’t do it. If I get the surgery, I’ll forget, and I can’t— 

“I can’t live in a world where I don’t know Seungcheol, where I don’t know his smile or the sound of his voice and his laughter, where I don’t know that he’s a cry baby and that his favorite kind of movies are romcoms, even  though he’ll never admit it to anyone but me.

“I’m scared too, but it’s not just dying,” you sob, “what kind of life would it be if I stopped knowing him? If I couldn't even remember the only love I’ve ever known?”

***

Weeks pass in a blur of burning orange speckled with blotches of vibrant red; hospital bins filled to the brim with orange marigolds drenched in bile and blood; nurses carrying and disposing more and more beautiful bright bouquets of marigolds each passing day. 

“The marigolds are really pretty, at least.” Soonyoung absentmindedly remarks as he watches a nurse file out of the room, two trash bins in hand, brimming with freshly puked flowers. 

Seungkwan who stands beside him gives the hin a look of complete outrage, nudging Soonyoung’s side a little too harshly with his elbow, making the blonde yelp in pain. Jihoon who’s sitting at your bedside only rolls his eyes at the insensitivity, while the rest of the boys stand around awkwardly and apologetically. 

The tense sight of almost all your closest friends standing around as if they were at your funeral rather than just your hospital room only makes you laugh into the receptacle on your mouth, cursing the restraining contraption despite it being the only thing that’s managed to help you breathe throughout this whole ordeal. 

Shifting up weakly, you move to sit up in your hospital bed to get a better look at the boys.  Jihoon’s hands are quicker than your frail body though, as he tries to keep you lying down.

“C’mon, Hoonie, I’m dying, not losing my sense of humor,” you shrug his hands away and Mingyu’s takes their place to sit you up, “what Soonyoung said was funny.” 

“I’m not offended, it’s funny. I mean, they are pretty, right? It would suck if I was dying and the flowers exploding out my gut were fucking ugly as shit. Could you imagine puking roses? Ugh, how generic,” you chuckle, upping the dramatics and giving Soonyoung a wink along with a mirthful grin which he sheepishly returns. 

You glance at Seungkwan who’s trying to bite down his smile and you offer him your own wide one, “bet you never had a flower shop for a friend, huh?” And at that, the others who’d spent most of this time awkwardly standing around, the same way they did every week when they came to visit, finally let out their laughter. 

You laugh along with them as much as your lungs will allow and you shake Jihoon’s shoulder, as if the gesture will shake the frown off of his face as you whine, “C’mon, please don’t be mad, Jihoon. I’m dying, you’re not allowed to be mad at me.”

“She kinda has a point, Hyung.” Vernon, feeling more relaxed after your joke, takes a seat at the foot of your bed and shrugs at the older male.

“Dying friend trumps angry friend,” you shrug, smiling brightly at Vernon who just pets your leg affectionately. Despite his irritation, Jihoon watches the exchange and visibly softens, patting your head just as sweetly and giving you half a smile. “Whatever, you’re stupid.” 

“By the way, where’s Wonwoo?” Mingyu asks, changing the topic effectively, “isn’t he supposed to be here, too?” 

“He said he’s running late,” Jihoon checks the clock, noting that the male is never usually this late, “he said he had to pick up something before—” as if on cue, the male in question rushes through the doors of your hospital room, panting and sweaty. 

“What the heck, Woo? Did you run all the way here?” you laugh at his disheveled state, “don’t you have a car—” just as quickly as he makes it through the door, your words die on your tongue, finally seeing just what it was he had to pick up, rather who.

“Seungcheol.” The world seems to stop for a moment when your eyes meet his, and everyone in the room becomes as still as statues, the playful mood from earlier quickly dissolving into wordless tension. 

It feels like eons before someone breaks the palpable stiffness in the room, but it’s Wonwoo’s voice that slices through it and breaks the trance you and Seungcheol are locked in, “I’m sorry, y/n.” 

“What the actual fuck, Wonwoo!” This is the loudest your voice has ever managed to be since you arrived at the hospital and the strain burns your throat so much that you start coughing violently, gasping desperately for air as a fresh wave of nausea hits you and the rest of the boys can tell right away by the panicked look in your eyes. 

Vernon, who’s closest to the new trash bin is quick to grab it, placing it in front of you on your lap, while Mingyu’s hands efficiently remove the breathing receptacle from your face. Jihoon reacts like it’s his second nature to pull your hair out of your face and hold it behind you, while Wonwoo moves to your side to gently stroke your back, cooing soft encouraging whispers into your ear as bright orange starts to assault your senses, blurring your vision and filling the room with sickly sweet scent of marigolds along with the sounds of your violent retching. Soonyoung and Seokmin are quick to leave the room, saying they’ll call a nurse for an extra bin while the rest sit to the side, not even an inkling of panic on their faces. 

It all happens so fast, with such lighting precision and rehearsed accuracy that Seungcheol is sure that this isn’t the first time his closest friends have been through this. He realizes quickly that he’s the only one who hadn't known. 

Once you're done unloading your flowery guts into the bin, Minghao is already ready with a moist towelette to wipe away any dribble along your lips. Your weak gaze manages to meet Seungcheol’s confused but visibly enraged ones, but you don’t speak. Not for lack of ability to, but because there was nothing left to say. The jig was up, he knew. 

“What the fuck, y/n?” Seungcheol’s voice is booming and you almost laugh at how often you’d heard those words in the span of time you’d been in the hospital, but his next words cease any coherent thought you might have, “who is he? Tell me, y/n, who the fuck is he, I’ll kill him.”

Confused, your eyes dart from the angry eyes of the subject of your affections, to the bespectacled ones of your other best friend who was still standing beside you, hands unwaveringly rubbing gentle, soothing circles onto your back. 

“Woo?” 

“I thought you should be the one to tell him.” He explains, eyes apologetic. 

“I swear to god, y/n! Is this where you’ve been the past two months?” Seungcheol, ever the impulsive and quick to anger person he is, doesn’t even register the moment that passes between you and Wonwoo, “Why didn’t you tell me? I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell your best friend! We’ve been through everything together, and I would do anything for you but you were just going to go through all of this, all alone, without me?” 

You only laugh at how he was exactly the same Seungcheol you’d always remembered. Two torturous months had passed and while the time had seemed to trudge on slowly for you, the time feeling like eternities without him, it had flown by for him and he had emerged from the other end practically unscathed; you were dying, and in a way, he was literally killing you with heartbreak but all he could think about was how you could have the audacity to leave him out of your own illness and death. 

Classic Seungcheol. It might have seemed unbearably selfish of him, but this was also part of why you loved him so dearly. He was so innocent, so caught up in his own heart that he barely registered anyone else’s, but it also meant that once he treasured someone, he would do anything, sacrifice anything for them. His one-track mind and heart would never let him be or do anything less; if Seungcheol had to give you the world just so that you might live, he would die trying to get it. 

It was exactly why you had wanted to leave him out of it. You knew that he was too kind, too self-sacrificing to the point of selfishness, too caught up in his own emotions that he would never understand your choice to not have the surgery—to die. 

“Sorry, Cheolie,” you try to smile despite the sob that gets caught in your throat, “I just thought it would be better this way.” 

At your words, he immediately unclenches and finally all the anger that wracks his body seems to dissipate from him until all that’s left in his irises is confusion and hurt. "You don’t have to do this. You can just have the surgery,” he coaxes, walking over to your bedside where he takes your hand in his, gently rubbing the skin there with his thumb before gently pressing it to his lips, closing his eyes as he does so. 

“But I can’t, Cheolie, I can’t forget—” you almost slip up and say ‘you’, but you swallow it down and Seungcheol is quick to take the reigns of the conversation again. 

“You can! You can forget that bastard! Whoever he is, he doesn’t deserve you, your love, or your death.” He pleads, tears pricking the edges of his eyes. 

“You don’t know that Seungcheol,” the first time in a long time you’d used his first name, “he doesn’t deserve me, he deserves better, you just don’t know—” 

“I don’t want to know! If he really loved you, he wouldn’t be letting you die here all alone—”

“But I’m not alone!” you try to argue, but Seungcheol isn’t having any of it, he’s too riled up again, too in his pain to let you explain anything to him.

“No, y/n! For fuck’s sake, listen to me! If he can’t love you when you’re fucking willing to die for him, then he’s not gonna love you even after you’re dead! And there’s no use dying just to remember someone who doesn’t love you!” he heaves, “isn’t it better to just be alive not remembering someone who could never love you?”

Everyone stood around you, eyes wide and tensely watching, awaiting your response with bated breath. His words hurt. More than anything, they felt like a death sentence, an indirect confirmation that Seungcheol could never and would never return your feelings. Fighting the marigolds bubbling in your chest threatening to spill out, you can only shake your head, smiling at him as tears finally spill from your eyes.

It takes everything in Jihoon not to punch the lights out of Seungcheol as everyone watches you cry, but Wonwoo’s firm grip on Jihoon’s arm is warning enough that you wouldn’t want them fighting with each other. 

“It’s okay,” you finally manage the words, and everyone but Seungcheol knows that the words are more for everyone else in the room, “I know you don’t understand, and I don’t expect you to.

“You’re not meant to; it’s not for you to understand. This is mine.” Seungcheol meets your eyes and in them he sees a finality that he has never seen before, a certainty unmarred by fear or sadness. “So, I don’t care if you’re mad at me, or if you don’t agree. You don’t have to, you just have to be my friend and sit this one out, okay?” 

Your eyes scan through the room, meeting the eyes of all your closest friends, asking for their silent agreement to both keep your secret but also to no longer question your decision. “Just be my friend and sit with me till—” 

“Till the end.” Wonwoo finishes when you’re unable to, voice shaky from overuse and the emotions. 

The night the world ends is the day your heart finally stops. For three days prior you’d been in a medically induced coma, the doctors explaining to Jihoon and all your friends that it would be too much, too painful to keep you awake while your body slowly failed; your lungs slowly filling with blood, fluid and marigolds, its roots constricting the far too weakened organ tighter and tighter until your system would eventually crash from the lack of oxygen. Ultimately suffering from a long and arduous suffocation.

When you go, it isn’t peaceful or serene like the books or the movies often say it is. Your body is a mess of convulsions and painful retching fits. Despite being sedated, you're gasping for air; your body seemingly clawing onto life and fighting to preserve itself despite your heart telling it to let go. As the last of your struggle and life dissipates from your body, you’re surrounded by the same friends who’d kept you company throughout this whole ordeal. 

Till the end, even on the days you could no longer talk, or wake up to even see them, they had stayed. Some talked to you, sometimes telling you stories, reading you your favorite books, and even saying their goodbyes one by one. Even Seungcheol, who despite his bursts of anger and frequent tantrums that had him walking out, always returned to keep his promise and just sit with you. 

That night, there were no marigolds like when Jihoon had first found you, it was not beautiful or immaculate. There was no portrait of you sprawled in a field of bright golden flowers. Instead, there were only bloodied, wilting petals scattered at your bedside and sticking to your skin and robes, the orange barely visible through the blood that stained them. Your frame was the smallest they’d ever seen it and you were completely pale, the only color on you was the blood that had caked and dried at your lips and wherever else it had splattered, along with the mess of withering petals.

When the flatline finally echoes through your tiny ICU room, with 13 cramped bodies, not including the doctors and nurses, no one says anything. Wonwoo is the first to crack, taking your limp hand in his, pressing the lifeless limb to his lips then falling to his knees and finally breaking down completely for the first time. Everyone else follows suit. 

Your distant relatives had settled the arrangements for the funeral, deciding to have it in Seoul where you would be surrounded by all your friends and most beloved ones. They are kind and understanding, despite not having been close with you and they thank everyone who attends graciously. All your friends attend, Seungcheol even brings his girlfriend for moral support and she does just that. You would’ve been happy that he had her shoulder to cry on, Jihoon thinks as he watches them.

The night Seungcheol’s world stops is a week after your passing. Jihoon invites Seungcheol to go out with him and Wonwoo. When he meets the pair at the park, sitting on a bench, all three of them almost laugh at how much of a similar state they’re all in; eyes puffy with dark circles underneath to match, and faces swollen from sleepless nights spent crying. 

“If y/n were here, she’d laugh at how bad we look,” Wonwoo laughs, the first to break the silence, “she’d never let us live it down.”

“I miss her.” Seungchol breathes out the words into a puff of cold exhalation. At the words, Jihoon feels his fists clench, a sudden rage washing over him, but Wonwoo is quick and takes it upon himself to perform the difficult task at hand instead of Jihoon. 

“You should know, Seungcheol,” Wonwoo sadly meets the gaze of his friend, forcing the words and choking down the tears in his throat, “it was you.”

“Y/n didn’t want us to tell you, she was kind that way,” Jihoon runs a hand through his locks, fighting the tears, “but we’re not as kind.”

“We thought you deserved to know.” Wonwoo clarifies, not letting Jihoon’s anger cloud their actual purpose. 

“She was in love with you, she always has been,” Jihoon sighs, recounting the conversation he had with you a few weeks prior to you being comatose. 

“There’s still time, y/n. I know I said I would drop it, I’m sorry, but you can’t blame a guy for trying to save his best friend, right?” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“It’s okay, Hoonie, I understand.” Till the very end, you were kind despite your pain.

“You know why marigolds?” your eyes look to Wonwoo sitting by Jihoon then trail off to the view outside your window. “When I first arrived in Seoul, he was my first friend. I met him in a field of marigolds. I’d fallen and scraped my knee. It was really bad actually, I had to get stitches after. I remember trying so hard not to cry, because I was a big girl and this was the big city and I just felt like there were no room for tears here, y’know?”

You laugh at the memory, “out of nowhere this big kid comes running at me asking if I’m okay. While I tried not to cry, telling him I was okay, he took one look at the gaping wound and all the blood on my skirt and he started crying so loudly.

He was so dramatic that it almost made me forget how much it hurt, and I could laugh even just a little at him. So overly emotional, that boy.” You shake your head. “Anyway, I ask him why he’s crying, and this obviously much older and taller boy bawls at me saying ‘it looks like it hurts, doesn’t it hurt? And you’re not crying so I’ll just cry for you’.”

“He cried so much that his parents eventually found him and me, and brought me to the hospital to get stitches. I’ve been with him ever since. We were so young back then. I’m sure he doesn’t even remember…”

Finally looking back at Jihoon who now sees the fresh tears in your eyes, “but I-I don’t want to forget, Jihoon. I don’t want to forget him or who he helped me become.”

“And I knew, you know?” chuckling mirthlessly, your eyes shift to Wonwoo’s sad eyes as they watch your sadder ones, “I knew he couldn’t feel that way about me, I knew he didn’t love me, but I adored him anyway. There were times I thought, maybe, maybe he’d finally see me...”

 Turning back to Jihoon, you could only shrug, “but we all know how that turned out.” 

“She always loved you, Seungcheol,” Wonwoo interjects, ending Jihoon’s retelling and watching as the older male’s eyes fill with tears.

“But why didn’t she—why couldn’t she just have told me? She could’ve just been honest.” 

“We all know that wasn’t an option,” it’s Jihoon’s turn to interrupt this time, “you were engaged, and she wasn’t going to ever let herself get in the way of that.” 

A silence passes between them at his words. It was true. No matter how Seungcheol looked at it and flipped it around in his head, you were far too selfless to do anything so cruel, and knowing you, the last thing you’d want was to make it any harder on him. You were no angel, but you were a good person, the best he knew, but he also knew you could be selfish to a certain extent. Instead of just going through with the surgery, you suffered painfully till the very end, and all to preserve memories of someone who he now knew didn’t even deserve to be remembered, all because he was too blind and too wrapped up in his own heart to see it, to see you. 

“I love you; I’m waiting for you unbearably.” Wonwoo’s eyes are closed as he whispers the words into the emptiness of the starless night sky. The two males stare at him wordlessly as if waiting for an explanation and after taking his time, letting the moment pass, he does. 

“It was a quote y/n really loved, from a book she recommended to me a while back.” He smiles fondly at the memory, “during her last days, sometimes she’d whisper it in her sleep.”

They sat there in silence for what seemed like hours, wordlessly comforting each other by just being there. As they stayed there, basking in the stillness and calm that seemed to envelope the rest of the universe; your death felt like the world had ended, but here it was, continuing to spin through the vastness of the cold October night sky; blissfully ignorant of your passing. Even in that emptiness, there was comfort and somehow, they could almost feel you; just there, sitting with them till the end. 

Seungcheol is the first to stand to leave, whispering a hoarse thank you to the two before turning to head to his car and driving off, home to his fiancé. Wonwoo and Jihoon don’t say anything more. It’s Jihoon who decides when it’s finally time to leave. He turns to Wonwoo, beckoning to the male with a nod. 

“Let’s go, Woo.” 

“Do you think it will hurt?” Jihoon doesn’t look at him as he drives, but quirks his brow, confused by his question. 

“What, the surgery?” 

It takes a moment before Wonwoo can respond. He’s perfectly calm, looking out the window at the streaks of passing light as he shakes his head, “no. Forgetting.”

The words take Jihoon by surprise, but he doesn’t show it, not wanting to worry him any further. Instead, he gives him a comforting smile, the first hint of sincere softness on his face since you had been admitted to the hospital, and shakes his head. 

“No, I don’t think so. I think it only hurts when you know you’re forgetting. But once you’ve forgotten, then there has to be some relief in that, right? To be able to be a blank slate. A new start, she would have wanted that for you.” 

Wonwoo only nods, closing his eyes as he takes in the younger’s words. 

“Don’t worry, Wonwoo,” Jihoon’s hand is a comforting warmth on his shoulder, “even when you can’t remember her anymore, I’ll remember her for the both of us.”

Fin.

[dhwty-writes]

Congratulations for your follower milestone!!! Prompt if you like: Jaskier's first winter at Kaer Morhen and he finds out about the witcher cuddle pile in front of the fire every evening and is delighted to be invited to join them.

Thank youuu~ You have discovered my largest weakness. Cuddle piles! This was a wonderful prompt. I hope you like it :)

Read on AO3

There were certain things in Jaskier's life that fell prey to exceptionally high standards. His students at Oxenfurt, the wine in Toussaint, or the longevity of the colours of his doublets to name a few examples. But all of them were dwarfed by the looming shadow that was the ruin of Kaer Morhen.

But honestly, who could blame him? Everyone knew he had a soft spot for history and legends, he was a bard after all. And what was Kaer Morhen but the decaying visualisation of said stories? What were witchers but living and breathing ballads and epics?

He vividly remembered his days in Lettenhove when his tutor had first mentioned the ancient castle that was now crumbling beneath the crushing burden of centuries, still defiant even after being sacked nearly a century prior, but rotting. The waves of time lapped at its foundations and soon it would see its end, consumed by the ocean of the ages that eventually wore down everything created by humankind. That evening he had stolen the tome his tutor used to torture him and practically inhaled the section about Kaer Morhen.

And then he had met Geralt — of course he had met Geralt, of all witchers, who suffered from selective muteness whenever he tried to ask him about his childhood. The little information he had been able to glean had barely been enough to conjure up an even more grandiose image than before.

In his dreams Kaer Morhen was an enchanted fortress, frozen in time and ice and snow. It was cloaked in an eerie charm, abrasive and inviting at once. Maybe there were even some vines encapsuling it in a thorny coffin, like in that fairy tale he had been told as a child. In any case it was majestic. Monumental. Mind-blowingly magnificent, even.

He had never experienced a worse disappointment in his entire life.

Alright, maybe he wasn't quite fair to the damp old thing, but after weeks of freezing his balls off while traipsing through the late autumn Kaedwen mountains he really shouldn't be blamed.

Despite Geralt equipping him with a whole new wardrobe fit for a winter up-north both of them had arrived shivering and soggy. Never in his life had he been more thankful for a bed with scratchy furs and lumpy pillows.

Since then a week had passed, but he hadn't quite forgiven the castle of his dreams, the frankly heinous journey it preceded yet. Not only was Geralt's home in the middle of fucking nowhere, it was also icy and drafty and, on a bad day, even snowy.

Jaskier had known, of course, that Kaer Morhen was a ruin. He just hadn't imagined it quite so... ruined, if he was honest. Nor had he imagined himself being tasked with aiding in the never-ending string of repairs that appeared to fill the majority of the winter days for the four remaining witchers of the wolf school and Coen, the last of the griffins. 'Oh, that's a title for the songs,' he thought as he handed Geralt a hammer.

"Are you alright?" the witcher asked from somewhere above him, where he was fixing a broken beam of the truss.

"Who, me?" Jaskier answered and tucked his frigid fingers into his armpits. "Of course, why are you asking?"

There was an alarming creak from above followed by the CLANG CLANG CLANG of a hammer. "Because I can hear your jittering from here. Are you dressed warm enough?"

He scoffed. "Who are you? My mother?"

The hammering stopped. "Well, are you?"

Jaskier couldn't help but smile. "Yes, Geralt. I'm a good lad who's wearing his undershirt, knitted sweater and lined gloves."

"And the woollen hose Vesemir gave you?"

"And the woollen hose Vesemir gave me."

"Good. Let's go back, it's getting late." There was some shuffling that meant Geralt was packing up. Moments later he dropped out of the rafters to land before Jaskier.

"Gracious gods!" he squealed and leapt back. "Geralt, you know I hate it when you do that!"

"I know," he said with a smile and began walking down the hall, "and you know that you mustn't get sick here. There's only so much we can do about pneumonia up here."

"Hmph," he answered and hurried after him, "I'm trying. Which is why you don't see me complaining."

Geralt shot him a condescending look.

"Alright, alright," he amended generously, "I'm only complaining a little. But honestly, why didn't you tell me I'd freeze my buttocks to the benches if I sit down too long?"

He snorted a laugh. After a short pause, he added solemnly: "I thought you wouldn't want to come, then."

"Not want to come? Have you listened to a word I've said since meeting you? I mean, of course you haven't, that's a rhetorical question, darling, but still. I've wanted to come here since... forever! And even if you'd told me, do you seriously think I'd have listened? Don't be ridiculous, I never listen to your warnings."

"True," Geralt agreed. "Still, no one comes to Kaer Morhen on their own volition."

"Do I look like no one to you?"

He squinted at him to size him up. "Hmm."

Jaskier laughed and punched his shoulder. "Arsehole."

"Perhaps I am," Geralt answered with a sly smile.

"Probably you are."

"Maybe."

"Definitely!"

The witcher pouted, which, quite frankly, looked ridiculous. "Don't be mean, Jaskier. You're a guest, after all."

"Ugh," he said and rolled his eyes, "fine."

"Fine," Geralt agreed and opened the door to the Great Hall. It was the only room in the whole fucking keep that was reasonably warm, so Jaskier felt confident to remove at least one layer of clothing while Geralt put his tools away. He was in the process of folding his sweater, when he spotted Lambert and Eskel in the corner, tightly curled up against each other.

"Oh, uh, Geralt?" he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Your, umm, your brothers. Should we better leave?"

"Bard," Lambert answered, "you know that we can fucking hear you, right?"

"Right!" he answered quickly. "Sorry. Geralt?"

But his witcher was already on his way to the two of them. Once he reached the layer of furs and carpets that blanketed the floor, he stripped his boots and sweater and flopped down unceremoniously on top of them.

Jaskier couldn't help but stare. Not for long of course, no stares could go unnoticed for long when it came to witchers, but still.

Eskel raised his head with an amused smile: "What? You won't join us?"

"So, that's how you keep warm!" the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "I was already wondering how all of you survived these winters as children."

The three witchers shared an awkward gaze. "Not all of us," Eskel answered.

"Oh," Jaskier said. 'Oh shit,' he thought. "Well, uhmm, I'm leaving, then. Yup, that's me. Leaving this room. Sorry. Again. Or for the first time. Have a nice evening!"

"Jaskier," Geralt growled and lifted his head from Lambert's back, "don't be an arse."

"Oh, uhmm, I'm trying not to be," he laughed nervously. "Well, you know me. I'm always trying. Sometimes I'm even successful. Yay..." He was suddenly feeling much too warm, despite the freezing temperatures.

"Then stop fussing and get the fuck over hear," Lambert grumbled. "I won't listen to Geralt's bitchin' for another evening. Fifteen winters is more than fucking enough."

"Mhmm," Eskel agreed and yawned noisily. "Fifteen years of 'Ohh, Jaskier gives the best hugs' and 'He smells so nice'. Wouldn't shut up about you..."

"Excuse me?" he squeaked undignified. Jaskier awkwardly cleared his throat. "Excuse me?" he tried again.

"Geralt," Lambert hissed and kicked him into his stomach, "I think we broke your bard."

"Hmm?" he answered and turned his head sleepily towards him. He blinked a few times before his gaze cleared and his eyes focused on him. "Fuck," he muttered and slowly at up. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing!" Jaskier assured him too quickly. "It's, umm... it's just that this situation is a tad awkward. For me. You see, I never think before speaking, and sometimes words slip past that were never meant to see the light of day and I'm truly sorry for offending you-"

He was interrupted by bellowing laughter at that. "Oh, he's cute," Eskel said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

"Fuckin' adorable," Lambert agreed. "Look, bard," he said and leaned onto his forearm, "we're witchers. It takes a whole fuckin' lot more to offend us."

"I know, I know, believe me!" He rolled his eyes. "It's one of your most infuriating qualities. And the competition is hard, just so you know. I've-"

"Jaskier," Geralt interrupted him gently. "Just come over here? Please?"

He huffed and uncrossed his arms. "Well, if you ask so nicely." Despite his prevalent discomfort he crossed over to them, sighing when Geralt wrapped his arms around his waist. "That's nice..."

"Mhmm," he agreed and dropped backwards, pulling a shrieking Jaskier with him.

"Geralt," he complained loudly, writhing in his arms, "warn me for fuck's sake! I could've crushed someone."

"Unlikely," Geralt declared and began pulling off his boots, before rearranging the surrounding limbs, until Jaskier was safely snuggled between the three witchers. For the first time since he had set foot into the Kaedwen mountains, he was finally warm again. Slowly, he felt himself drifting off to sleep.

It was almost too easy with three warm bodies curled around him, all of them intently listening to his breath evening out. He was almost asleep when they finally dared to speak up: "Fuck," Lambert whispered and cuddled closer, "he does give great hugs."

He couldn't help but smile and tighten his grip on his waist a bit.

"Yeah," Eskel agreed, "don't think I'll ever get up again."

"Don't think I'll give him back," Lambert said. Geralt growled and he laughed quietly. "What do you say, bard? Come with me in spring?"

Jaskier smiled and turned around to hug Geralt instead. "Not a fucking chance."

Send me prompts to celebrate my follower milestone!

[smokedstorybara]

I have so many bnha fanfic ideas, they’ve just been popping into my head every few days for weeks now

So I’m just gonna share them all on this one post instead of making a million new fandom posts out of nowhere (ok, it’s closer to, like, ten - but still!)

If any of y’all want me to actually write any of them, don’t hesitate to say so - or if you just want to ask questions and talk about the ideas I’d be totally down for that too

Also, if any of them inspire you to write or draw something, please send me a link when you’re done!

(under a readmore cause it’s long and also there’s spoilers)

Fae courts AU

Nedzu - Spring King

U.A. / The Spring Court - also known as the Court of Lost Children, all members of the Court were once human children or children of one of the other Courts and they view it as their duty to care for the lost, neglected, and abused children of the world (one of two child stealing Courts)

All Might - Summer King

All For One - Winter King

Objectively, the Summer and Winter Courts are not as different as they like to believe - a Summer fae is just as likely to trick or turn on you as a Winter fae, they just prefer to play at benevolence while Winter fae make no secret of their nature

Shie Hassaikai / The Autumn Court - used to be more like a lesser version of the Summer and Winter Courts, until Overhaul put the King to sleep and made his research into humanity the Court’s focus - they’re now the second child stealing Court

Eraserhead was once human but has made enough deals over the years - most notably with Nezu himself - that he’s practically fae now

Deku and Kachan are human children who were taken in by the Spring Court, though Deku only after catching the attention of All Might

Endeavor - High Fae in the Summer Court - wants to become Summer King but knows he’s not powerful enough to overthrow All Might, married a High Winter Fae in hopes that combining their powers would make one of their kids powerful enough

Dabi fakes his death and eventually becomes a High Fae in the Winter Court

Shouto seeks sanctuary in the Spring Court’s halls

(I don’t actually have a plot for it, but I’m enjoying figuring out the world and stuff)

Evil All Might AU

The underworld knows that young Yagi Toshinori is a con-artist, and a very good one

The kid’s quirkless, and from a bad neighborhood, so of course he gets involved in shady dealings to get by

But he never ever gets caught

See, he’s mastered the eager, innocent, “I know I’m quirkless, but it’s my dream to be a hero! To fight crime! To be someone people can look up to, put their faith in! To be a… a symbol!” act, he’s been running that con any time he’s found in the wrong place at the wrong time since he first started walking - no one with even a single good bone in their body ever questions it

He gets involved with AFO, who’s like “I could give you one of my lesser quirks in exchange for your loyalty, or you could do a long undercover mission for me and get one of the most powerful quirks in existence out of it”

His mission: pulling his signature con on Shimura Nana, being given One for All, becoming a hero, becoming the Number One Hero and Symbol of Peace and the singular pillar holding up hero society, maintaining that status for long enough that everyone grows a little complacent, finding a weak and manipulable child to pass One for All on to, setting them up to fail, and then retiring

(I’d either have this one be All Might-focused and end with the reveal, or have it be Izuku-focused and give it a happy ending where All Might totally chose the wrong kid, cause nothing about Izuku is weak)

Commission analyst Izuku au

Member of the commission overhears him muttering/catches a glance at his notebook while watching a hero fight, strikes up a conversation

The commission tracks him down, shows up at his home with a similar offer to the one they gave Hawks - but instead of a hero they want him to be an analyst for them

Like Hawks, they take away his name, only calling him something like Eagle Eye or something (I’d go with Hawkeye but Hawks already exists so it might be weird?)

(Basically this fic idea is just an excuse to have Izuku and Hawks as the ultimate team, and helping each other get out from under the commission’s thumb - maybe revolutionizing hero society along the way)

Canon rewrite w/ Monoma as main character, somehow

All I have for this one so far is just:

Monoma copies afo, uses copied afo to steal afo, AFO is now defeated

After getting better at controlling her quirk, Eri rewinds Kurogiri back into Shirakumo Oboro

But he’s the age he was when he died

So he joins the current class 2-A

As in Izuku’s class

Basically it’s just his old best friends having to teach him and him making friends with all Aizawa’s problem children

Time travel

(I have multiple cause I really like time travel)

Aizawa-centric time loop fic

Loop stretching from day before Oboro’s death to towards the end of the liberation war (diverging from canon in at least the first loop cause he fucking dies during the fight)

At first he thinks maybe he just, like, dreamt up those 14(?) years

But then things are happening the same way and so he starts changing things and he dies and wakes up the day before Oboro’s death again

He experiments a lot with the loops, figuring out that they’re definitely not time based - unless it’d loop back at the end of the liberation war even if he survives? Requires further testing

Details he changes throughout the loops (culminating in a loop in which he successfully changes all of them):

Oboro’s death

Shimura Tenko being taken in by All for One, All Might’s injury(?), Izuku accepting One for All, and more I haven’t fully decided on

Time travel fic where Pro Hero Deku accidentally time travels back to just before Aizawa’s first year as a student at ua and somehow gets hired as a teacher

Gonna be a two-parter

Part one: Izuku has to teach teen versions of his old high school teachers, channels their future selves a little

Part two: Aizawa, Yamada, and Kayama have to teach the teen version of their old favorite high school teacher, and end up channeling his future self - in different ways

(I’ve come across a couple different “Izuku gets accidentally sent back in time to when his teachers were students” fanfics and they keep making me think about how Aizawa & co would react to meeting him in canon timeline after meeting him in high school and then I took the natural step forward from there to “let’s parallel their nostalgia, make him their high school teacher so it can really hit hard”)

Izuku is related to rooftop trio aus

(I’ve come across a bunch of “Izuku is the biological son of at least one member of the rooftop trio” aus but only one acknowledges that in canon he’s only 15 years younger than them and that one has a very angsty explanation, so I wanted some that fit with canon and also aren’t too heavy - cause like, sure you could go with the complex extremely angsty trauma reason or you could go with the “these 13-16-year-olds(idk Inko’s canon age and as long as I never look it up I can pretend I’m not going against canon by making her only 2-ish years older than them) did what teenagers do and went to a party and made some relatively innocent mistakes and ended up with a pregnancy”)

Dadoro

Oboro and Inko have been neighbors and best friends their whole childhood, despite being a couple years separated in age

The fall before Oboro starts high school, Inko takes him along to a party with her high school friends

They get drunk and sleep together

Inko gets pregnant

They talk it through with each other and their families and agree to keep the baby (they’re both actually pretty excited to be parents) and raise it together platonically

Some months into first year (maybe second), Oboro tells his friends about his kid

Spends the rest of his life gushing about Izuku to all his friends (sorry for the word choice fjdhshshx)

Oboro dies and his friends make pact to help Inko take care of Izuku once they have steady income and stuff

But Inko’s family has moved and she’s married and they can’t find her

They keep searching, for roughly 14 years

And then Midoriya Izuku enrolls in UA’s hero course and his big green eyes and curly green hair match the pictures Oboro used to show them and his smile is identical to their old friend’s

And his mom’s name is Inko

But they’re not sure (His quirk doesn’t match Oboro’s nor his Inko’s after all)

Not until after the first term and the summer training disaster camp and Kamino, when All Might and Aizawa go house to house talking to parents about the dorms and All Might tries to insist on visiting the Midoriyas alone but Aizawa insists right back cause this is the closest he’s come to confirmation

and then he’s face to face with a woman he’s only ever seen in photographs

And then they talk about everything or something idk I haven’t got that far

Dadzawa and Dadmic (trans!aizawa)

A year and a half before he starts high school(I know I changed the timeline a whole year here but shush, how’s he supposed to get into U.A.’s hero course while pregnant?), Aizawa’s middle school and one or two others have a Joint Event, at which he meets a loud but cute blonde who keeps flirting with him

They hook up

He gets pregnant

His dad insists he get an abortion but he doesn’t want to and his mom supports his decision, they convince his dad to let him go through with the pregnancy on the condition that he gives the baby up for adoption immediately

He has twins, both boys (one with green eyes like the blonde’s(but darker) and the other with purple like Shouta’s mother’s)(that’s right, Shinsou is also their son in this, you’re welcome), and he gives them up for adoption to separate families

But with conditions

No one from his blood family is allowed to initiate contact with either boy without the kid’s knowing consent (he’s terrified of his father changing his mind, tracking them down, and hurting them)

With the one exception being that he’s allowed to send each one a birthday present and card every year

Which he does

Then he starts at UA and then gets into the hero course and there he is… the blonde… the father of Shouta’s children… who does not recognize him now that he’s started transitioning

This time Shouta’s the one who flirts - or tries to, the kid’s a little too oblivious

Of course they do eventually get together, and even end up married! (Haven’t decided if they get together during high school or after they start teaching there or what(probably the latter, for plot reasons))

The first time Midoriya Inko contacts Shouta is after Izuku is diagnosed quirkless - she knows the young man loves her son as much as she does and might be able to reassure him where she already failed

His next birthday, Izuku’s mystery card says he can be a hero even without a quirk; it makes Izuku’s year

Hitoshi’s parents also contact Shouta that year, the boy struggling to make and keep friends ever since his quirk came in; Shouta’s birthday card to him isn’t much different from Izuku’s, really

The Shinsous get in an accident and Hitoshi is placed in foster care and suddenly Shouta can’t send him his yearly gift and card anymore cause nobody will tell him where the boy is now because of the contact portion of the adoption contract

They also won’t tell Hitoshi that he was adopted and his birth father is out there looking for him, so Shouta’s pretty sure they’re trying to hide that he’s being mistreated wherever he is

Inko continues to contact Shouta now and then whenever she thinks Izuku will need extra encouragement come his birthday (she never tells Izuku about being adopted - even after he enters his teen years - cause after his diagnosis, everyone but her left him and she doesn’t want him to internalize the idea that his birth parents didn’t want him - Shouta’s not happy with the decision, but he understands)

Then one year he sends Izuku a Present Mic figurine and she writes him to share how excited the boy was and how Present Mic is one of his favorite heroes and he listens to his radio show all the time and Shouta simultaneously melts and has a minor breakdown at the realization that he hasn’t told his husband that they have sons, he can’t tell Hizashi that their son listens to his radio show regularly when Hizashi doesn’t know Izuku even exists

So of course, being the rational man he is, he finally tells Hizashi about Izuku and Hitoshi

Hizashi freaks, of course (in a good way(mostly))

And then, one of the worst days of Shouta’s life

He’s on patrol and sees a figure on a rooftop and rushes to get there - just in case it’s a jumper - and it’s his son, his Izuku

They talk(it doesn’t breach the adoption contract, he didn’t know it was Izuku when he approached and the kid spoke first) and Izuku tells him “everything” about his encounter with All Might, Shouta tells him to tell his parents - they’re there to support him - and also that All Might’s full of shit and a quirkless hero is totally possible with the right training and enough willpower

Then after they leave the rooftop his kid gets in trouble again, rushing in to save a classmate from the same sludge villain that attacked him earlier that day

Of course Shouta swoops in and pulls the kids out of danger before All Might arrives to “save the day”

This time Shouta insists on walking Izuku home to make sure he actually gets there safely

But then All Might shows up again wanting to talk to his kid privately and he wants to tell the man to fuck off but he’s not legally allowed, really, so when Izuku says it’s fine he reluctantly leaves

Inko asks to meet him just days later

She tells him that Izuku told her everything about what happened that day - including what Shouta told him - and she tells him that she’s realized she needs to properly support her son in pursuing his dream

She understands that Shouta wouldn’t feel comfortable training him one-on-one with the kid not knowing who they are to each other, and she’s still not ready to tell him yet, so she asks for a list, for him to help her get in touch with people who can train Izuku or ways for Izuku to train on his own, ways for her to help

He puts her in contact with seven pro heroes (Midnight, Gunhead, the Wild Wild Pussycats, and - somehow - Sir Nighteye) and a vigilante team (the Naruhata Crawler and his team), all of whom he talks into helping - and has to tell about his connection to this boy they’ll be teaching

(Each have something important to teach him: Midnight - using words and body language to throw off opponents, Gunhead - martial arts, Wild Wild Pussycats - stamina, teamwork and use of your environment when out in nature, Sir Nighteye - analysis and planning, the Naruhata Vigilantes - use of gadgets and weapons, use of your environment when in the city, having the heart of a hero, and - most importantly - that quirkless people can be fucking strong and skilled and terrifying and certainly aren’t weak or useless (they were trained by a quirkless vigilante after all, they’re bound to have a different perspective on the idea of a quirkless hero than anyone else, a perspective Izuku could really benefit from))

Ten months later, Izuku passes UA’s entrance exam and is placed in Shouta’s class (he’s pretty sure Nezu did that on purpose)

When the school year starts, he and Hizashi discover that Izuku isn’t the only one in one of their classes - Hitoshi is in Hizashi’s homeroom

They are, of course, fucking extatic

They just need to, y’know, figure out how to tell him that they’re his parents and maybe possibly would love custody of him if he wants

(Again I haven’t gotten any further than that yet)

(Also, if you can’t tell, in this au Izuku turns down All Might’s offer of One for All, cause Eraserhead said he could be a hero without a quirk and was honestly a lot kinder and more responsible (like, making sure the kid got home safely instead of leaving him on a roof) and stuff than All Might and honestly might be his new favorite hero)

[chironshorseass]

part 1 read on ao3

“So you’re telling me that you haven’t Iris Messaged Annabeth in a month?”

“She was with her cousin, Ma.”

His mother stopped the car right next to Goode—the high school he would (hopefully) be attending in August.

She turned to look at him, that motherly stern look that always came up when she knew he wasn’t telling her everything.

“What?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you say. But physically, you haven’t seen her since last January! I’m just worried that—”

“We emailed each other, though—”

“Yes, but it’s not the same.” At Percy’s roll of the eyes, she held her hands up in surrender. “All I’m saying is to…see if there’s anything wrong. I have a feeling she didn’t want to IM you for some other reason. And I know you, Perce. You have the same feeling as I do.”

He did, but that wasn’t the point. So he kissed his mom on the cheek and stepped out of the car.

“Good luck on your date! And with, um, school!”

He threw her a thumbs up and shouldered his backpack.

Too bad that luck wasn’t on his side that day.

She saw him before he saw her.

He’s grown, was the first thing that came to Annabeth’s mind.

His clothing peppered in burn holes, the smoke wafting further back, and the pretty girl chasing him was registered later.

She saw him before he saw her, and so Percy bumped into her in the alleyway. Her hands went to his shoulders, steadying him.

“Whoah!” she said, laughing. “Watch where you’re going, Seaweed Brain!”

Maybe he thought he’d be late for our date. That’s why he’s in such a hurry.

It didn’t matter. Because he was here, and he was just a bit taller than her—his hair was longer than she remembered, but his green eyes were the same, beautiful color, and...

Then she caught his panicked look. Then she caught the girl behind him and the smoke and his burnt clothing.

“What happened?”

Before he could reply, the redhead called out, “Percy! Wait up!”

Her flip-flops echoed across the relatively quiet street, interrupting Annabeth’s thought process.

“And who‘s she?”

Percy turned to the other girl and waited until she arrived next to them. He glanced at Annabeth, wincing. “It’s uh…it’s a long story.”

“You promised to explain,” the girl insisted, breathless. “About the monsters and the gods and everything.”

“Wait,” Annabeth said. “She’s a demigod?”

“No.”

At the same time, the girl tilted her head and said, “So you’re one of them, too, huh?”

Annabeth felt her mouth fall open in disbelief. She met Percy’s eyes. “You told some mortal about us?”

“My name’s Rachel.”

And my name’s I-don’t-give-a-fuck.

“She can see through the mist,” is all he said.

She shook her head. Out of everything that could happen today…and this was what Fate had decided on.

“Come on.” She tugged on Percy’s arm. “We’re leaving before whatever attacked you comes back.”

He followed her, but not without gazing back at Rachel as though he wanted to stay with her. As though it were easier than being with Annabeth. There was something bubbling in her stomach at that, something that boiled her insides.

“Wait!” Rachel shouted. “You promised to explain!”

She sprinted toward them and took out a sharpie marker she’d sprung out from thin air. Annabeth rolled her eyes. Rachel grasped Percy’s arm and began writing something that looked like numbers.

She wasn’t rolling her eyes anymore.

“My phone number,” Rachel explained. Then she winked at him. “Whenever you can, call me.”

.

“What was all that about?” Annabeth said. She’d already stormed ahead, taking the lead.

He tried to explain. He’d gone to Goode’s orientation tour, just like she knew he would. There, he’d been attacked by empousa cheerleaders, and thanks to Rachel’s Sight, he’d survived.

“I’d be dead if it weren’t for her,” he said, eyeing his marked arm. “I have to repay her in some way.”

“So now you have her phone number,” she said lightly.

“Uh…yeah.”

“She’s really cute.”

Percy stopped in his tracks. She stopped as well and looked back, realizing that he was staring at her exasperatedly.

“Aw, come on, Annabeth. You and I are literally dating, and I just saw her today—well, except for last year—”

“You’ve met her before?”

He scratched his head, shifting from one foot to the other. “I, uh…yeah. Last year at Hoover Dam.”

Right. When he was looking for me.

She kept walking again.

“Are you seriously upset because of her?” He tried to grab her hand, but she pulled away. “‘Beth, I never—”

“Anyway, I don’t think we can go on our date anymore.” Her tone was scathing, like sharp, twisted knives. But she didn’t care. The gods hated her, apparently, because she and Percy could never be a normal teenage couple.

“Oh, so now you can get all angry with me when we couldn’t even call properly because of your cousin? Not even a single call?”

“That empousai said that the camp would go up in flames, we need to—”

“Don’t change the subject.” He ran up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, making her halt. The few baby fat he’d still preserved back in winter was gone, replaced with the hints of someone older; with a harshness akin to his father, the Sea God. “How much time did you actually spend with your cousin? Honestly. He couldn’t have been with you all the time, and I tried to be nice and understanding, but did you really—”

“If what that empousa warned you about is true, then we need to head to camp. Right now.”

She left before he could talk about anything else involving her pathetic lies. Left before he could see her blinking back tears. She ran directly into Argus’ van, and once Percy had closed the door, she told the bodyguard to drive directly to camp. No detours.

They didn’t talk on the way there. She stared out the window, watching the passing farms and the cotton sky.

Her first meeting with Percy after months apart and it couldn’t have gone better.

.

The thing is: Annabeth had changed her mind about camp. In her plans, she’d stay in San Francisco for longer than usual, just to be as far away from Camp Half-Blood as possible. Then, she’d go to New York City, and her and Percy would be taken to camp by Argus.

But plans changed.

Her mother had come, weeks before Annabeth would leave as initially intended. For some strange reason, she’d knocked on her door like Luke all those months ago.

A spluttering Frederick had answered this time. Annabeth trailed behind him, cautious for anything.

Cautious for anything didn’t mean she’d thought Athena would ever consider stopping by.

“Mom?” she’d said, eyes wide.

After greetings were made, Athena had insisted she go to camp immediately. “They are counting on you to be there, Annabeth. You must go. Before it’s too late.”

Annabeth recalled what she’d told Luke:

“People are counting on you—on me”

But hearing it from her mother, seeing her so insistent—enough so that she’d come, personally, to her porch steps—made Annabeth reconsider.

Anyway, this was Athena. Her mother. Who was she to displease her?

So she buried all her worries about Luke and Percy and followed her; in the blink of an eye, she’d arrived at camp, Athena nowhere to be seen. Annabeth hadn’t even had the chance to ask her about why she’d decided to help, out of the blue.

But Athena was right; camp needed her. Apparently, Clarisse’s top-secret quest from last winter had to do with venturing into the Labyrinth. She and Chiron had rescued Chris Rodriguez, an ex-camper who was scouting it in the hopes of finding an entrance to camp for Luke’s army. He’d fallen victim to madness in those dark, underground walls. No one knew why—only that he needed help.

Not only that, but throughout those few weeks, she’d felt as if her mother’s face was implanted in her mind like a brand; she swore she saw those grey eyes everywhere. While she got familiar with Quintus and Mrs. O’Leary. While planning with Clarisse and Chiron. While hanging out with Silena. While scouring the forest with Grover and his new girlfriend, Juniper—searching for an entrance to the Labyrinth.

It got to the point where she lit a match and watched as dozens of olives burst into flames, in the hopes that Athena would respond.

“What do you want from me?”

“Please answer.”

“What do you know that we don’t?”

Everything.

That’s what she’d say, probably. But Annabeth would never know, because Athena never answered. She nearly burned down cabin seven because of this. In her frustration, she scooped up the remaining olives, stomped across camp, and threw them into the sea.

“Thanks for everything,” she muttered, watching the waves greedily drag the olives away.

She didn’t feel eyes burning into her neck after that, but coming back with Percy restarted the process all over again.

An owl was perched on Thalia’s tree. She ignored it, only for it to come back while her and Percy both sat to hear what the Council of Cloven Elders had to say about Grover’s search for Pan.

.

“Mom. What do you want?”

“Lovely way of greeting your visiting mother, I see.”

Annabeth sighed.

After reasurances to Grover that, ‘Everything will be alright. Don’t worry. I know you’ll find Pan before the Council’s deadline,’ she’d taken to the trees. To where that grey owl was perched.

The owl disappeared, however. Replaced by the goddess of wisdom. So now both mother and daughter stood, a few feet apart, while everyone else gathered on the other side. No one noticed the secret meeting.

“You prayed to me,” Athena said. “Of course I would answer. Even if you did throw the offerings away.”

To where Annabeth threw them away was left unsaid; Athena knew. She knew, and she’d likely come because of it.

Annabeth shrugged.

“You’re angry with me,” Athena observed. “Anger must be controlled, or else unwise decisions happen. Like throwing a prized possession into the sea.”

“Well, Mother,” Annabeth said, jaw tense. “You haven’t exactly been clear about why you’re following me around. Or about why you wanted me to go to camp early in the first place.”

Athena was rarely quick to anger. She calculated everything, patient and firm, just like now.

“Knowing the intentions of the divine can either be a blessing or a curse.”

“But you’re about to tell me something. About to answer me. Am I cursed, then?”

Athena cocked her head, considering.

“No,” she finally said.

There was a glint in her eyes, something that told Annabeth that she was holding back.

“Well, then...I am asking again: why are you here?”

“Because I foresee that you shall lead a quest.”

A pause. Her comment was precise, abrupt as a frigid wind. Annabeth felt herself gaping like a fish. Quickly, she clamped her mouth shut. That was all she wanted, wasn’t it? To lead a quest? But then why did she feel such a profound sense of dread?

“I came to warn you. It won’t be easy.”

She restrained the urge to roll her eyes. “Quests aren’t meant to be easy.”

“Never stray from the plan,” Athena said, ignoring her comment. Her eyes were grey as granite, face hard as marble. “I know that you can…manage your hubris, but this time, it’ll be the ultimate trial for what you can or can’t do. If you can yield or not. You and Perseus both. Hubris can be controlled, but if control itself is the problem...that is very dire, indeed.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I may have made a mistake in assuming Perseus’ fatal flaw. Maybe not. In any case...you must be careful.”

“You assumed what his fatal flaw is?”

Athena regarded her carefully, like one does when studying an ancient scroll. “You can ask him about it. Since you two are...close.”

She said close as if it was a foregin word on her tongue, something she wanted to get rid of.

Of course she knew.

“About that, I don’t care what you—”

“I give you the benefit of the doubt,” Athena said, an eyebrow raised. “My children are known to make wise, rational decisions. I can only hope that you won’t become an exception to that rule. I do not approve, but it is your life. Your choice.”

Annabeth’s mouth felt like sand. Choices. She’d begun to hate them, now.

“What’s Percy’s fatal flaw?”

“Even to me, it’s uncertain.”

“But you have some idea.”

“As do you, my daughter.”

“I thought knowledge is power.”

“Yes. Knowledge is power. But how do you know that the knowledge you possess is true? How do you know if it’s not? Fate, however, is already decided; all we can do is prepare for the worst.”

“What’s going to happen, then?” Annabeth felt like she was barely able to grasp for something to hold on to, waiting— begging —for the ground to steady itself. “What will happen to Luke? What’s my role in all of this?”

Athena only shook her head. “Knowing something and having the wits to use it are two separate things.” Then she turned around, her time at camp over as well as her vague and unreliable warnings. “I must go. Good luck, Annabeth, on your quest.”

“A quest no one has even mentioned —”

“And watch for Percy Jackson.”

She vanished into the canopy, morphing into that same, grey owl. A single feather fell from the sky and settled quietly into the ground next to Annabeth’s sneakers. It mocked her, that feather. She kicked it away, then thought better of it and rubbed it into the dirt with her heel, destroying every single trace.

Your choice.

.

Neither her nor Percy mentioned their earlier fight. It became a discarded page, ripped off and torn into pieces like an old math textbook. It gave her space to breathe, to start over. A part of her knew that it wasn’t right, and that eventually, they’d have to talk about it—but that was eventually. This was now.

During the “now,” she filled Percy in on the Labyrinth.

(The Labyrinth will be the quest your mom mentioned. It can’t be about anything else)

He listened to everything she had to say and stayed even while Clarisse was there, too.

(Probably because they’re friends. They just hate to admit it.)

They ignored the catcalls and the teasing. She expected it, anyway.

(“So the rumors are true,” Malcolm said, wiggling his eyebrows and making her roll her eyes. “You and Percy are a thing, now.”

“Uh…yeah.”

“And you never thought to tell me? Like, I’m not surprised or anything, but—hey! Don’t hit me! Okay, fine, everyone knew since you two held hands and made gooey eyes at each other and stuff last January—stop hitting me!”)

Later, her and Percy sat together by the warmth of the campfire, roasting s’mores. She enjoyed laying her head on his shoulder and kissing his cheek. She laughed at his horrible singing and held his hand later that night, swinging their arms up and down as they walked toward cabin three.

Joking around and taking comfort in the sound of the crickets, Annabeth understood what it was like to love someone. It was a different kind of love than that of Luke. She watched him smile wide, watched the way his eyes crinkled as she rolled her eyes about Clarisse and Silena. That’s when it crossed her mind: their friendship hadn’t changed. Not really.

Even though they hadn’t seen each other for six months or so, and even though their newest step to their relationship had started weeks before that, their esense stayed the same. He was still Percy and she was still Annabeth. And that would never change.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Percy said, squeezing her hand.

“Oh, um. Just...thinking.”

“Well duh.”

“Shut up.”

He grinned at her, even as she shoved him off.

“No but seriously,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed. Her meeting with Athena had slipped into her mind like passing sticky notes and secret messages. “I want to talk about fatal flaws.”

She felt his hand tense. “What about them?”

“Just, I dunno, like...do you know yours?”

He was looking straight ahead when he said, “Your, uh, mom told me. Is personal loyalty even considered a flaw?”

“That’s what she said? That your fatal flaw is personal loyalty?”

He shrugged. “Guess so.”

So it’s true. She thinks she’s wrong.

“I mean, personal loyalty is considered a flaw, but...do you think it could be something else? Maybe?”

They locked eyes. The faraway hearth lit up his face, sharpening his features.

“Do you think it’s something else?”

“I don’t know.”

Another lie. Or was it? Could personal loyalty be his fatal flaw or could it be something else? Was Athena right? Was she wrong?

Percy raised his eyebrows. “You know something. You have that planning face look.”

“I don’t have a—”

“Uh, yeah you do. But whatever. It’s not like you know what my fatal flaw is.”

“I’m...yeah. I was just wondering since, well, I know about mine. And we’re so close to the Great Prophecy, and if you don’t know by now what your fatal flaw is, well—”

“It’s good that I know, then,” he cut in. “Good that I know my fatal flaw by now.” His eyes flicked to her. “Right?”

“Yeah. Right. Good.”

Nothing else was said after that. He stopped by the porch steps of cabin three and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes, comforted like she had throughout the singalong. Comforted by Percy.

Until he closed his door and left her in the dark.

.

The next day, Quintus’ strange game involving scorpions and ribbons began with her being paired up with Percy. It was just their luck that they’d stumbled into the Labyrinth, of all places .

“So we’re stuck here.”

“Yep,” Percy confirmed.

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m only here for moral support. You’re the brains of the relationship.”

“Am not,” she grumbled. “You’re smart; stop pretending you aren’t.”

It was no use, anyway. She couldn’t find the mark of Daedalus in the darkness. They took a break from searching and calling for help to sit down, bunching up against a wall and leaning against the other.

“I never apologized.”

Percy’s voice in the hollow chambers nearly made her jump. She lifted her chin and tucked it into his collarbone.

“For what?” she said.

“The Rachel thing.”

“To be fair, I’d nearly forgotten.”

“Exactly. So I just…want to clear the air before it comes up again. And to say sorry for doubting you about your cousin.”

She shut her eyes tight. The truth was coming like undigested food; she was ready to spill it all out. But she swallowed the words instead—hating herself and loving this beautiful, selfless boy all at the same time. Round and round. Round and round it went.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“What are you sorry for? You were right to be angry with me. Like, all this time apart and suddenly a girl writes down her phone number on my arm , and then we can’t even have a normal date because I seem to mess that up, too.”

You’re perfect, she wanted to say. You’re perfect and I’m the one who messed everything up. Not you.

“We both reacted in stupid ways,” she said instead. “And anyway, I should’ve found the time to IM with you.”

He kissed the top of her head and mumbled into her hair, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah. I know.”

He pulled away from her. She could feel his gaze but couldn’t see him clearly. “Something’s bothering you, Annabeth. What’s wrong? What’s actually wrong?”

She pursed her lips.

“What if…what if we don’t make it?”

Her voice came out barely above a whisper, but in the drifting silence, it sounded like ringing bells, there for everyone to hear.

( “What if you don’t make it?” She could never dare to say that out loud, however. )

She felt Percy lace his fingers through hers. “We’ll be together. That’s something I know for sure.”

They chose silence after that. Annabeth rested her head against his shoulder once more, listening to the constant creaking and shifting of the Labyrinth.

“Hey,” Percy murmured.

She glanced at him. “Hmm?”

Suddenly, she was aware of his hand resting on her arm, of his breath warm against her cheek. She froze, just for a second.

“Can I kiss you?”

Now that she thought about it, they’d never kissed properly—just a quick peck here and there. She nearly laughed at how nervous Percy sounded, at how this was just like last winter as they asked permission for a simple kiss like the awkward teenagers that they were.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear and leaned in. He didn’t need to look far, not even in the darkness; she was already inches apart, closing her eyes and feeling their breaths slip by.

When their lips met, she decided that surrender tasted sweet and pure, something she’d willingly do over and over again. He kissed her and nothing else mattered, not Time or the dark or choices.

He was the first to pull away.

“We’ve, um, we’ve been in here for too long,” he said. “Let’s keep trying to find a way out.”

It wasn’t long until they did.

.

By the time they’d managed to slip out of the Labyrinth, hours had passed. Night had fallen like autumn leaves, though she swore that they’d been in the maze for thirty minutes  at most.

By the time the campers and Chiron found them, she already knew that a quest would have to be made.

Just like her mother had promised, she was chosen to lead.

From what the oracle told her, she wished she could hide in her cabin and never come out. She wished that all of this was a dream and that absolutely nothing would happen—to anyone.

“The child of Athena’s final stand,” she’d said, repeating nearly all of her prophecy once Chiron asked her about it.

She paused and didn’t say the last line. The worst line. That line had cut to her bones. A rusted knife against her throat.

“And lose a love worse than death.”

She gazed at Percy. Innocent green eyes gazed right back at her, unwavering. What a terrible person she was, that she’d lead him to this fate because she couldn’t leave without him. How weak.

“Will you come?” she breathed.

He agreed without a second thought.

.

He found her in her cabin. They were alone, for once. And when he asked her what was wrong, when he looked at her like that, she couldn’t take it anymore. She surged to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly and secure, so he could never go away.

She breathed in his scent, feeling tears already trickling into his shirt.

“Hey, it’s—it’s okay. We’ll survive.”

“But what if we don’t?”

His hands drifted up to her back, steadying her.

She lifted her eyes, pulling away slightly, if only to see him clearly. A varying amount of emotions crossed his face. Concern, fear, love. Until he settled on concern and flicked away her stray tears with the pad of his thumb ever so gently. His eyebrows were pinched together.

“I just…” she said, looking away. “I just don’t want anything happening to yo—to any of you.”

“I’ll be here,” he said softly, cupping her cheek and moving it in his direction so that she could understand. “We’ll be okay.”

She wished she could believe that. Wished she could believe it with the same amount of heart that she poured into the kiss that followed. Her hands tugged at his hair, lips moving along with his like they never had before. They were warm and sure, his lips. But they could easily turn blue and cold, as easily as a flame could cease to exist. So she kissed him with everything she had so that his lips would stay warm like this, forever—passed her oxygen to him until there was nothing left to give.

.

Annabeth also chose Grover and Tyson to join her quest. With two more people, the quest team turned up as four instead of three; a feeling told her that she needed them all.

But three is a sacred number. Not four. This is why Zoë and Bianca passed on.

Three, not four.

And lose a love to worse than—

She strolled past the moving walls, the footfalls of the rest echoing behind her. Until she stopped. They were in a lavish room with a muraled painting of the gods, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the two doorways, the two paths.

“So?” Grover asked. “Which one do we uh…which one do we pick?”

Before she could answer, a man formed—or rather, a man with two faces. They stood in between the pathways, leering at her.

“Yes, Annabeth,” said one face.

“Which one do you pick?” said the other.

.

She kept mulling it over, what Hera had said. They’d encountered Janus, the god of doorways and beginnings and endings. And choices.

“Choose,” they’d said.

Instantly, images had painted themselves in her mind. In one, she was looking for Daedalus alongside Percy and Grover and Tyson. In the other, she was looking for Luke. “He can be saved,” her imaginary self muttered as she trudged through the Labyrinth alone, on the brink of madness. “If I save him, there will be no more death.”

But then more flashed through her mind. Choose one pathway, and she’d lose Percy, and soon after that, she’d lose Grover and Tyson. Choose the other, and she’d lose Luke instead.

“Choose.”

Everything had come to a pause when Hera arrived. She wanted to help them, apparently—only that that wasn’t true. Gods didn’t help. They only left you confused and disoriented, spinning around with no control.

She hadn’t helped, not that it surprised her.

None of them had any clue how to navigate the Labyrinth, only that supposedly Percy knew the answer. And also that they had to search for Hephaestus if they wanted to find Daedalus.

As a parting gift, she’d said, “I delayed Janus’ visit, but be careful, Annabeth. Your choice will come soon enough.”

“Let’s rest here,” Percy said, sensing her waning steps.

Despite her exhaustion, she insisted on taking first watch. She had to think. Pray. Slowly, everyone else fell into a slumber, but her mind was wide awake, gazing at Percy’s motionless form.

Prophecies had double meanings, didn’t they?

.

Her world was turned upside-down once she heard the explosion, once she went airborne for a few seconds only to hit her shoulder on a jagged rock. Immediately, she felt the sharp sting of pain. She clutched her shoulder, biting her lip. Her hand came back slick with blood.

“You chose this,” the two-faced god taunted her.

Then she heard a strangled scream. Percy’s scream. She inhaled sharply and scrambled to stand up, ignoring the scuttling spider that was getting farther and farther away and the stabbing pain traveling from her shoulder to the rest of her body.

“Percy!”

She ran in the direction from which she’d come from. Too late. Searing heat slapped her in the face before she understood what was happening. Another explosion came, and this time, she wasn’t so lucky.

Her body stumbled back, rocks caving in on her.

The sky. This is like the sky—

And everything went dark.

The darkness formed into a memory:

“No! I can’t leave you!”

“I’ve got a plan—promise!” he insisted. “You follow that metal spider to Hephaestus' lair, tell him about what’s going on.”

“But you’ll be killed!”

This was the choice; leave him or stay. Stay or leave.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. From the look in his eyes, Annabeth knew that she couldn’t convince him. He was decided. “Besides, we’ve got no choice.”

Yes, they did have a choice.

No.

Yes.

She kissed him instead. A quick kiss, a promise.

“Come back to me,” she said, fighting back tears. She pulled on her Yankees cap and left, then ran.

Her sobs escaped from her rib cage by then, finally free.

She woke to that memory and nothing else, head pounding like drums. The spider was long gone, and she stumbled around, drunk with grief. It was a miracle she found Hephaestus at all.

.

Hephaestus, thank the gods, understood her unintelligible blabbering. He took pity on her, perhaps, because he healed her physical wounds and dropped her off at camp. Never mind that Grover and Tyson were gone, on their own path looking for Pan. Never mind that Percy…

She broke down crying for the thousandth time that day when Chiron asked her what had happened. Why she’d staggered into camp all alone. Her heart, her entire being, spilled to the floor like water from an overfilled cup.

“Four went in and one came back. Only Annabeth came back,” the campers whispered among themselves. She saw their faces, saw their horror at realizing that Percy was likely dead, Grover and Tyson gone as well without much of a trace.

It drove her to hide. She stayed in bed for the next three days, not daring to close her eyes in the fear of what she may find there.

She thought that she’d run out of tears long ago, but they came anyway. She clamped her mouth shut so as not to alert any of her siblings who were asleep.

Your choice.

For the first time in the past two days, her eyes fluttered closed. She didn’t dream of anything at all.

.

Clarisse came barging into cabin seven the next morning.

“Come on, Princess,” she said, staring down at her. “You’ve gotta eat.”

Malcolm stood behind her, likely the one who had told Clarisse to come in the first place, since Annabeth hadn’t listened to any of her siblings about eating.

She tried to protest, to fight. But Clarisse was strong and had a purpose; Annabeth had nothing at all. So she sat in the dining pavilion, taking her time with her breakfast and ignoring everyone’s eyes on her.

Clarisse sat next to her, making sure she finished her food.

“Slowly, okay?” she said, then murmured, “Gods, when was the last time you ate something?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Annabeth snapped.

A few minutes passed in relative silence before Silena came to their table, offering solace.

“Hey, girlie,” she said. “How are you?”

Annabeth didn’t respond. Silena softly laid a hand on her shoulder, then decided better of it and pulled her in for a hug.

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” she said gently.

But it was.

Annabeth chose to leave him.

It took everything in her not to break down in Silena’s arms. Annabeth gave her a weak smile once she proposed to do something to pass the time. Like weaving, something she knew Annabeth enjoyed, being Athena’s daughter and all that.

So they did. Silena was good at it—good at making beautiful things. In the arts and crafts station, they spent most of the afternoon knitting and sewing as well, with Clarisse begrudgingly accompanying them.

She felt herself forget, her hands the only thing working. Not her mind. Not her subconscious or her guilt or her worry and fear.

It lasted only a moment. Because then she saw what she’d been working on for the past hour. Subconsciously, Annabeth had created a shroud. A beautiful one at that, with different hues of blue and green—just like his eyes. Just like the sea.

As if sensing her distress, the two girls looked up from what they were doing.

Clarisse said, “Is something wro—”

She didn’t need to say the rest, because Annabeth found her legs already moving, racing out the door.

“Let her,” she heard Silena say. “Give her space.”

She didn’t look back, sprinting to the one place where she knew Percy’s presence still thrived. Where she could be reminded that he would come back, just like he promised.

“I’ll be here.”

Cabin three didn’t look like much. Granted, she could barely focus on anything but her breathing—which was rapidly increasing its pace—but even so, she was reminded of how simple yet welcoming cabin three was in comparison to Zeus’.

It smelled like him. Like walking down the beach on a sunny day. Everything was as it always had been—clothes splayed haphazardly on the ground, bed unmade, stray papers adorning his nightstand.

She crumpled to her knees on the worn wooden planks. A great sob escaped her, and she covered her face with shaking hands

“He’s gone, Poseidon,” she cried. “He’s gone, and—and I’m so sorry.”

That night, she threw up everything she’d eaten.

.

“It is time,” Chiron said, his eyes dim with pity.

He preferred demigods dead, it seemed, than to try and look for them. She’d begged. Pleaded. Fallen to her knees until they bled. But it was no use; her teacher was convinced he was dead, and by the time the second week passed without Percy showing up, he was declared as such.

“He’s powerful,” Clarisse had told her. “I trust your instincts. He’s not dead. Can’t be, or else I’d have to beat him up.”

She helped Annabeth try to talk Chiron out of the funeral but to no avail.

And he wasn’t. Annabeth knew, in her heart, that Percy wasn’t dead. Barely anyone believed her, however. She didn’t blame them; no one knew about the last line of the prophecy for her quest.

But a pestering voice reminded her of something else: Percy was not, by any means, her only loved one. That voice sounded eerily like Janus.

What if it’s Luke?

He was nothing to her, now. She swore that he wasn’t.

What if Percy is dead?

That’s when Silena squeezed her shoulder, repeating what Chiron had told her the day prior.

“It’s time.”

Everyone who had gathered by the Amphitheatre waited for her to give out her statement, grim-faced. Chiron stood at the center of it all, the shroud she’d made at the arts and crafts cabin in his hands.

She hated that shroud with all her being, but she took it anyway once she stepped the last of the stairs. The fire next to her kissed her cheeks like the warmth of the sun. But inside, all she felt was cold. His body hadn’t been found…yet the shroud that she clutched in her hands would burn with Percy’s life.

“He…” Her eyes drifted to the shimmering cloth. How could she ever describe Percy Jackson? How could she ever put him into words? “He was kind,” she began. Her voice was unrecognizable, even to her. “He was probably the bravest friend I’ve ever had, and…”

And then she saw him, grinning like an idiot behind everyone else.

.

“Bravest friend you ever had?” was the first thing he said, after their bone-crushing hug.

She wiped her tears away and laughed. For the moment, she didn’t care that he hadn't answered her frantic questions.

“Where have you been?”

“What happened?”

He was here and he was alive. Her arms still clung to his neck; she wasn’t sure she’d ever manage to fully let go.

“You’re my friend above everything else, Seaweed Brain. And yeah, I guess you’re pretty brave.”

A question formed at the tip of her tongue—the one asking once more about what had happened in that explosion, where he’d been all this time; she knew that Percy could tell.

He was about to say something when Chiron interrupted them.

“My boy,” he said, mainly addressing Percy. “We need to talk.”

Percy’s demeanor changed like the shock of icy water to the face.

“Uh, yeah.” Something passed through his eyes; he glanced at her, then at their teacher. “I know how to navigate Labyrinth.”

.

Her relief became a ghost of the past once he explained himself. He told them the plan for the next part of the quest—for finding Grover and Tyson and finally Daedalus—but all she could hear was her ears ringing.  

“I was marooned on an island.”

“I uh…I stayed there for some time, healing from the explosion.”

She was almost certain about where he’d been. And then he’d mentioned his plan to find Rachel, the pretty redhead who wrote her phone number on his arm. Supposedly, she could help them.

“A clear-sighted mortal,” Chiron had said. “Clever, indeed.”

Only it wasn’t. It was her quest. Her choice. Not his.

Annabeth stood from her chair. The screeching noise made Percy wince. “I can’t believe you! You’re asking me to go to that mortal for help?”

Chiron’s eyes were soft when he said, “Annabeth, calm down—”

“No, I’m not calming down, because Percy here wants—”

“It’s the only way,” Percy said, hands wrung together.

“Ohh don’t tell me what’s ‘the only way’ and what isn’t when you could’ve easily come back sooner.”

Percy opened his mouth, but she talked over him.

“You think I’m stupid? You think I’m dumb?”

“No, ‘Beth, I—”

“You were with that goddess,” she said, her voice taking a hard edge. “Calypso, isn’t it? Was she nice company for you? Did you have a good time while I sat here, waiting for you, as my life spiraled out of control because one of the most important people in my life was gone?”

Percy stammered, “‘Beth, please…just—just let me explain.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You’re not denying it, either. That’s why you didn’t recount the entire story of your fun little vacation in a beautiful island with a beautiful goddess who was probably all over yo—”

He stood up then, leaning over the table, face inches apart from hers. “Don’t act so high and mighty with me when I know you lied to me about your cousin.”

“Percy, this isn’t even about—”

“No, no. You’re hearing me out. Okay? Hey, stop. Look me in the eyes. Nothing happened between us. Okay, nothing. She liked me, yes, but that is literally her curse! I knew you’d react that way because I’m realizing that you don’t fucking trust me!”

“What? Percy, I trust you with my life—”

“Then how come you never told me what was bothering you?”

“Because I don’t know what was bothering me!”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you! You know exactly what bothers you. But guess what? You won’t tell me! So like, don’t even dare accuse me of not revealing where I was when you do the exact same thing, ‘Beth!”

Annabeth felt like falling, but this time, she found no branch to hold onto and crashed to the ground, bleeding out and breathless.

Meanwhile, Percy kept talking, throwing javelins her way. “When you didn’t want to communicate via IM last semester, I agreed because I wanted to give you space to whatever the fuck was going on with you—and something is still going on, but you won’t tell me—and like, all that time while I was with her on that island, I wanted to go!

“I wanted to be with you! Shit, I don’t even know what I’d do without you, but I couldn’t fucking leave because that place is cursed! And when I did, it’s because she’d…she’d fallen in love with me! But I…but all I wanted was you!”

Silence fell over them with the remnants of Percy’s hard breathing. She blinked a few times, telling herself that she would not cry.

Chiron saved her before that could happen. “Now, children. Settle down. Percy. Give Annabeth some space to think about this.”

He obliged, much to her relief.

“This time, it’ll be the ultimate trial for what you can or can’t do. If you can yield or not.”

It all came down to that, to her mother’s words. She understood what they meant, now.

With just enough drachmas in her bag and a bluster assuring her that she would not fail, she grabbed Percy by the hand and crossed the camp border. Argus was waiting down below.

[fandom-puff]

Enough

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Requested by: anon

Prompts: “I‘m never going to be good enough for you, am I?” (49 from list 2)

Summary: you’re not a barmaid. You don’t train horses. You’re nothing compared to the other women in his life

Warnings: swearing, arguments, very brief harassment

“YN!” John’s voice rang out from the side room. “Come ‘ere, girl, come and sit with us!”

You smiled weakly at him. He always tried to include you. “A-Actually, I was just heading home,” you said softly, walking over to him, ignoring Tommy pouring out a gin for May Carleton.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Is it Finn? D’you want us to tell him to fuck off? We know he’s off putting- oi, Finn, go play with the other kids, yeah, fuck off,”

You giggled slightly. “No... it’s not... it’s not Finn, you can sit down,” you said, and the youngest Shelby grinned at you in thanks.

Esme, johns wife appeared at the door. “You can sit with me if you like. Lord knows I need some female company while him and Arthur are playing cards,” she smirks, jabbing him in the rib with her elbow.

You smile softly and give in. “Fine,” you said. Once the door was shut, you leaned to Esme, murmuring, “you’d think you’d have plenty of female company what with Tommy bouncing between Mrs Carlton and the barmaid,”

John overheard and snorted into his whiskey and esme glared at him. She looked at you sympathetically, and said in a hushed voice once the boys were distracted by cards again, “you still love the fucker, don’t you?”

Signing, you looked down to your lap, fidgeting with your hands. “Mm-Hm,” you confirmed. “He just... he confuses me so much. He cuts it off with me after the war, saying he needs space when really he was chasing that barmaid spy... she fucks off after he has her, and he comes back to me for a quick one. I was a fool to let him, because not two weeks later it’s May Carlton this, May Carlton that,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, hating to admit that you were jealous. But underneath that, you felt vulnerable. Inadequate.

“He’s a cock, YN,” esme said, rubbing your shoulder gently.

“Who’s a cock, Es?” John asks. Nosey bastard.

Esme sighed softly. “Thomas. Flaunting the horse woman round YN. Says she was born riding, but I bet she’s only ever ridden Fillies she inherited. Never had to break one in herself,” she rolled her eyes.

John and Arthur looked at you, smiling sympathetically. “If it’s any consolation to you, YN, we prefer you over an Irish spy or some posh woman any day of the week,” Arthur said. “You were with Tom since you were sixteen, and since he er... broke things off... he’s been a right dick,”

You smiled softly. Arthur and John would’ve made such lovely brothers in law. “Thanks, boys,” you sighed. “But it’s not... it’s not that I’m mad at him for seeing other women, he can do what he wants. It’s the seeing me in between and then ignoring me. I-I know I’m no good. I know I’m boring. I know I’m useless. Just... he doesn’t seem to be arsed about how I feel, even though I care so much about him. It’s like rubbing salt into an open wound- I don’t even know why I’m talking about this to you lot of all people,” you let out a high, nervous laugh. Esme patter your back as John and Arthur each reached to squeeze one of your hands reassuringly.

“What’s going on?” Tommy asked, the door now what as he slipped into the room. May was nowhere in sight.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Thomas?” Esme spat. You were glad for her venemous tongue sometimes.

Tommy rolled his eyes and barely regarded his sister in law. “May Carlton has left small Heath to go back to her home,” he said bluntly. “To tend to my horse,”

“Even though you’ve got Curly here. He’s the best at horses,” you blurted, without really thinking.

“Yn,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What would you know about horses?”

His words stung. He had taught you how to ride when you were 16. He’d taught you how to tell what a horse was feeling, how to calm a nervous mare, how to get a horse to behave without taking to the crop or the whip. In your letters while he was in France you always made sure to tell him how the horses in the yard were getting on, and he told you about the beautiful chestnut stallion he had seen, the dappled mare which the commander rode. “Only what you taught me,” you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes. “Only what you taught me before you went off to France. Before that fucking war and then that fucking copper ruined everything,” you pulled away from esme’s comforting pats, from John and Arthur’s sympathetic gaze, from Finn’s baffled look. You stared at tommy, taking a deep breath to say something scathing, but could only manage a small sob.

You hated yourself for it. Tommy grabbed your arms but you wriggled from his grasp. “Look, YN, calm down, love, we’ll talk-“

“Love? Love?” You hissed. “You lost your right to call me anything but my name months ago. Don’t you coddle me, Thomas Shelby, because I know exactly what you’re thinking. I‘m never going to be good enough for you, am I? I’m never going to be a pretty Irish barmaid who keeps a pistol in her handbag. I’m never going to be a prostitute you wouldn’t let your brother marry because you wanted her all to yourself. I’m never going to be some rich widow with a big house and a wealth of knowledge about horses. All I gave you, ten years of my life, my innocence, my youth... it was never good enough for you, was it?” tears were streaming down your face.

“Yn,” Tommy said.

“No,” you pushed past him. “Don’t bother,” you slammed the door to the snug. As you walked out of the pub, a man grabbed at your wrist.

“Need some cheering up, darling?” He snarled, Hans tracing your thigh.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off me before I rip your fucking balls off and shove ‘em down your own throat,” you growled, yanking your hand away from him, and storming home.

Men were the worst. All toe rags, you decided.

***

A week has passed since your argument with tommy. Each of the Shelby’s had tried reaching out to you- you were practically a sister to them for ten years before Tommy decided he’d had enough.

You sighed as the door knocked. “As much as I appreciate it Arthur,” you sighed as you took the chain off. “Im really not in the mood to spend my night drinking away my sorrows with you and John- oh. It’s you,”

You immediately looked down, not wanting to look into those blue eyes, that perfect face. That stupid, perfect face.

“YN... look,” he said slowly, carefully. The same way he would coax a nervous filly to trust him. “I’ve been... ive been a bastard, okay. I’m sorry. I still... I still love you,”

You snorted. “Explain that to everyone within a mile radius of May Carlton’s house, hmm?” You said bitterly. “Or to the horse you named ‘Grace’s Secret’”

Tommy sighed. “I know you hate me, YN... but... I love you. I haven’t stopped loving you since we were 16 in my uncle Charlie’s Yard, hiding from your dad. When we used to sit by the cut eating those pretty little cakes you used to make. I used to give you the strawberry off the top of mine, so long as you gave me some of your buttercream. We wrote to eachother every week while I was in France, sometimes twice, three times, even. I still have those letters, YN. You used to put a spritz of your perfume in each one and do a little kiss in all your different lipsticks so it was like you were hugging and kissing me all those miles away,”

As he spoke, he was slowly backing you into your living room, until you were both sitting down. “I didn’t bring you flowers, because I know you only really like them in the spring and summer, because they wilt too fast and look too sad in the autumn and winter. And if it was spring, I would’ve gotten you roses or violets or pansies, because I know lilies and chrysanthemums make you sneeze,” a fresh round of tears slipped out of your shut eyes. You couldn’t bare to look at him under his intense gaze- you knew you’d break down after just a second.

“Tommy,” you whispered softly. It was the first time you’d called him by his nickname in over a year

“I know that you can’t sleep without snuggling into something- blankets normally- but... it used to be me, and I miss it so much, YN,” he said the last part in a soft, quiet voice.

You let out a soft cry, moving to his side, allowing him to engulf you in his arms and hold you tight, the way he held you the night before he went off to war. You cried into his chest, and we’re sure he was crying into your hair for more than an hour, finding long lost comfort in one another’s arms, the way they slotted so well together despite so long apart.

“I want this to work Tommy,” you eventually whispered. “I want it to be how it was,” you felt him not his head.

“No more secrets, YN. No more women. Only you. The only woman I’ve ever truly loved,”

You sighed softly and nodded, snuggling into him the way he pointed out you did. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed, you look like you haven’t slept in days,” he said guiltily, picking you up and carrying you upstairs. As he was tucking you in, you grabbed his hand, eyes suddenly alert.

“Don’t leave me again,” you whispered, squeezibv his hand. He squeezed back, before kicking off his shoes and taking off his belt, sliding into bed behind you, cuddling you close the way you did all those years ago. It seemed the most natural thing to do, and he almost sighed with relief when you snuggled close. He kissed the top of your head gently.

“Never, YN... never again,”

Tag list: @the-makingsofgreatness @peakyswritings @haphazardhufflepuff @diksy1112 @zodiyack @soleil-dor @hiddensapphic @fckingpeakyblinders @snugleo @alittlebirds @satanxklaus @glamsaturn @thegirlwithoutaname87 @queenofmankind @awkwardretro

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings are as follows - mentions of alcohol, descriptions of blood, Whiskey being a bit of an ass and some brief talk of dead relatives. 

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

You watched him as he settled himself back down into the couch, taking note of every breath he took while he reclined back, refusing to look you straight in the eye. That didn’t bother you too much - you were too busy studying the myriad of bruises and cuts splayed along his body, from the tears and scuffs in his denim jacket to taking note of his perfectly maintained Stetson. How on Earth that thing had managed to escape from whatever situation Jack had gotten himself into unscathed mystified you, but from what you remembered of him you knew he loved that damn hat to death. 

Neither of you had said a word to each other since he stumbled through your front door only moments before, that heightened sense of tension undoubtedly ripe in the air. You thought if you ever saw Jack Daniels face again that you’d have a couple of cutting remarks to say to him - if you ever did think about him that is, and you usually didn’t. Jack hadn’t haunted your thoughts for years now, memories of the summer you two first met and the cold dark of winter when you fell apart falling away to the sands of time. The last thing you ever expected was to have him show up on the front step of your ranch, looking like he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. Gazing over him now, you felt it was somewhat your obligation to make sure he was fine: despite your less than amicable feelings towards him you weren’t about to let him die on your couch. 

“Can I get you anything?” you asked him, a hint of uncertainty to your tone. He turned his gaze towards you and shrugged slightly, looking no less unsettled than he had a moment before. “I’m fine for now. Trust me, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks”. 

“You sure about that? No offense, but you kind of look like a wreck” you shot back, to which he replied with a small scoff. “Nice to see you too, sweetheart. I forgot how hospitable you were to those in your care”. 

You could feel a spark of heat rise in your cheeks at his words, and almost wanted to retort back with something equally if not more biting. That fucking bastard. Here he was, lying on your couch looking like he’d walked out of a gang fight and he had the gall to give you attitude. “Alright, ignoring your completely rude and uncalled for attitude for a moment, you still haven’t answered my question. What the fuck did you get yourself into?” you asked.

There was a momentary pause where Jack looked back up at you, an expression of remorse crossing over his face in the brief glance he shot at you. Turning his gaze back down towards the wooden coffee table before him, he shook his head and sighed. “Sorry about that, darlin’.I just...I got myself into a bit of a tight situation. Things have gotten complicated now” he explained, prompting you to raise your brow at him. 

“Yeah, I can see that. Who did this to you?”. 

“Just some other agents. It doesn’t matter” he replied curtly. 

“From where? Statesman?” you asked. After dating him for about a year, you were well aware of his position as an agent to Statesman, and you knew exactly what that job entailed. Jack had been injured before, sometimes worse than how he was now. You remembered once he came back from a mission with several different bones broken, multiple gunshot wounds and a concussion. You’d been left worried for weeks after that as he recovered, only being allowed short visits to see him due to the very nature of his job. This time was different though. You knew Jack was a survivor, but for him to show up out of the blue after several years of no contact, looking the way he did, something was horribly wrong. Studying his expression intensely, you couldn’t help but let out a low sigh in frustration. It annoyed you to some degree of how evasive his answers had been thus far. It was almost like he was ashamed to even say what had happened to him, ashamed to be even talking to you. 

“No, no, they...they weren’t. That’s not important right now though” he finally answered, running the edges of his fingers over his tattered jeans. If it were any other day you would have been more upset at his dismissal of your question but upon seeing the troubled look on his face you felt it best to let it go. An uncomfortable silence had started to hang over the room, the space between you and him feeling more and more tense as the moments ticked by. You looked down at your shoes, taking note of every scuff and streak of mud as if they were the most interesting things in the world, and giving yourself another minute of hesitation before blurting out “Why are you in Dallas?”. 

“It just so happened to be the place the cargo plane I was stowing away on landed. I wasn’t tryin’ to seek you out or anything, if you’ll believe me”. 

His explanation gave cause for you to raise a single brow at him once more, not entirely believing it to be a coincidence that he just happened to show up in Dallas after seven years of radio silence. “Really? Why come here then? Don’t you have your agent buddies to fall back on for shit like this?” you inquired, your tone coming off far more biting and bitter than you originally intended it to. You could see Jack seize up slightly at your callousness, a pained expression passing over his face that made your breath catch in your throat for a second before you darted your eyes away from him, focusing back down to your shoes and deriding yourself for even having a moment of fleeting attraction to him. All these years and those pathetic puppy dog eyes still managed to get to you. Damn him. 

“Usually, yeah. Not this time round though. I’ve…” he stopped himself, his eyes betraying the deep wounded pain woven within them, strengthening every second longer he dwelled on the memory of his former glory. “I’ve been kicked out of Statesman. Or, well, I haven’t officially been kicked but after what happened the other day I’d be a damn fool if I even tried to walk through their doors again”. 

You blinked at him in confusion, his words not fully registering with you. Statesman kicked him out? Him of all people? You briefly considered the possibility that he was simply just pulling your leg and trying to gain some sort of sympathy but upon remembering the pained expression on his face you were instantly told all you needed to know about the truth behind his words. Ok, so he’s not lying, but still...why? “I find it hard to believe that they’d just boot out their best field agent. What did you do to warrant that?”. 

You could see Jack’s mouth twitch slightly, indicating that he wasn’t entirely up for divulging such information. Running a hand through his hair, he trained his eyes to the ground and refused to look up at you as he went on to explain what exactly had gone down to lead him there. “Long story short, I had a disagreement of sorts with a couple of agents from a fellow organisation, and may have gone against Champ’s direct orders in order to hinder them. I guess you could say I went rogue” he elaborated, intentionally trying to keep some of the finer details out. You had half a mind to push for more info, though after another seconds thought you decided against that idea and instead settled for nodding at him semi-sympathetically.  “I see. So...why are you here then?”. 

He didn’t answer you right away, rather finding himself to be staring straight upwards at the wooden beams on the ceiling above. You analysed his expression, trying to find any sort of hint towards what he was thinking. Your eyes kept being drawn back to that dried gash of blood across his cheek, and you winced at the thought of him being in any sort of prolonged pain. Maybe you should have fetched some medical supplies for him after all - knowing Jack and the way he was, he always liked to downplay the dangers associated with his job. Every time he wound up in Statesman’s medical wing needing some sort of bullet taken out of him he never once admitted to ever being in pain. Getting injured was part of the job, he always said, so it wasn’t worth it to worry over him everytime he got hurt in the line of duty. He was an expert at saying he was fine when it was all too clear that everything wasn’t. 

The sound of Jack sighing heavily pulled you from your thoughts, looking up to see him with his head in his hands, practically exhibiting every clear sign of tension in the book. A small part of you wanted to feel sorry for him, for seeing him like this. “Look, I realise this may be too much to ask of you, considering our history, and part of me hates that I have to in the first place but...I have nowhere else to go. I can’t go back home to either New York or Kentucky. I’m not an agent anymore, so I can’t ask any of them for help, and I’m almost a hundred percent sure that I’ve got some sort of bounty on my head now. I’m on the lam as they call it”  he prattled. “I need a place to hide out, to lay low while I sort some shit out”.

The day had already been weird enough already, hearing him ask for your help was only just the cherry on top. Blinking slowly and with your mouth hanging open in utter disbelief, you blurted out “Let me get this straight: you need my help?”.

“Just for a little while, and I promise, sweetheart, as soon as I’m able to I’ll be outta your hair” Jack assured, turning his eyes upwards to you so that you could see his lovely brown eyes, the very same ones that you felt yourself get lost in all those long years ago. “I would never ask this of you unless I had no other choice. You and I both know that”. 

You were at a complete loss for words. Between his tone and those frustratingly sweet eyes of his, you weighed your options carefully on what you should do. Should you let him stay with you? On one hand, with what he’d done to you years ago, something that still left you hurting even now, some part of you felt hostile towards him being around again. You remembered being young and 21, giving your heart out to him and only ever receiving empty promises in the end, leaving you with the painful memory of standing crestfallen on a flight of marbled stairs, on a night that you had sworn was gonna end with a ring ending instead with a shattered heart and never-ending glasses of merlot on your lips. Eventually, you’d learnt to live with the heartache. And pretty soon, for the most part, you’d forgotten. Seeing him there, tonight, in your living room of all places, was starting to bring those feelings back. No matter how hard you tried to stifle them, ignore them and focus on the matter at hand, you still felt the bitterness creep into your tone every time you opened your mouth.

Still, even though Jack had hurt you, you couldn’t just leave him out with nothing. From what he told you, he truly had nowhere else to run. If you threw him out now, he could be dead within hours. The mere thought of that made your heart sting, and despite any bad blood between you two you weren’t heartless, so with a small sigh, you at last settled on the answer you would give to him. “Alright. I’ll let you stay. On one condition though: you gotta help out a little with some of the ranch handling stuff. Once you’re all healed up from your injuries of course” you posited. “And don’t bother trying to butter me up, I’m not enough of an idiot to fall for your charms twice. I’m doing you a favour so it would be in your best interest to avoid pissing me off. You think you can handle that?”. 

He smirked back at you, though it was void of it’s usual playfulness and felt to be more out of sadness than anything resembling his usual jackassery. “You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart, but yeah, of course. I’d be more than happy to help ya out”. 

“Alright. Now…” you nodded at him before turning on your heel in the direction of the kitchen in search of some bandage and gauze for his injuries. “I am going to get you some medical supplies because even though you said you’re fine you clearly aren’t, and I’m not about to have you dropping dead in my goddamn living room. The blood would get all over the carpet and I ain’t lookin’ to pay to get it cleaned” you announced, dropping down to your knees and rifling through one of the lower kitchen cabinets for all the necessary items. 

You could hear him chuckle from the living room, imagining him to be wearing a more toned down version of that charming grin he always seemed to have on him. “Ah, you wound me, my dear girl. Where are your folks?”. 

His question made your heart seize in your chest, your hands grasped around the roll of bandage and bottle of antiseptic you’d scrounged out from the back of the cupboard. Rising to your feet, you stuttered on your words as you led yourself back into the living room with an arm full of different medical equipment. “They...they died a couple of years ago. It’s been just me for awhile” you answered back, doing your best to ignore the look of surprise that spread across Jack’s face. “I’m sorry to hear that, darlin’”.

Tearing off a strip of bandage, you motioned for him to give you his arm so that you could begin tending to some of the deeper cuts on him. “It’s ok. Well, not ok, really, but what can you do?” you murmured, brushing the length of his torn denim jacket out of the way and pressing down a dash of cold antiseptic cream across one of his cuts, watching as how he winced slightly from the sting. “Life goes on. It has to, or else you get left frozen”. Shaking your head, you began to tie the strip of fabric around his forearm, eager to get off the topic of your deceased loved ones as soon as possible. “I’ll put you up in the guest room upstairs. Don’t go through any of the shit in the cupboards, ok? It’s private stuff”. 

“I would never dream of doing so, sugar”.

“Good. Lucky for you, none of these gashes seem too bad so they’ll most likely heal within a couple of days. I’ll just put a bit of adhesive over that awful one you got across your cheek and you’ll be right as rain in no time” you said, popping open the box of adhesive bandages. 

Jack smiled at you, albeit weakly as you smoothed the bandage over his cheek. “Thank you for doing this for me. I mean it. Honestly, I didn’t think you were even gonna let me stay here”. 

You shot him an odd look at that comment, leaning back down to pick up the various bits of first aid paraphernalia off the floor to deposit back onto the coffee table. “What do you take me for, Jack? I ain’t a cold hearted bitch. I hate you for what you did but I don’t want you to die or anything” you quipped, staring at him straight in the eyes as you said those words. Not allowing him a second to respond, you turned away and began to walk off towards the stairs, starting to feel the exhaustion of the day sink in once again when you placed your foot on the first rung.“You’re all good to go. I’d say go upstairs and get some rest, lord knows that’s what I’ll be doing. If you need anything give me a shout ok?”. 

He nodded back at you wordlessly, abruptly turning away afterwards the lean against the couch with his back turned to you, lost back in his own thoughts. You allowed your gaze to linger on him for a moment longer then dragged yourself up the stairs and towards your bedroom, flicking off the hallway lights as you went. In an instant after you heard the click of your bedroom door shut behind you, you allowed yourself to groan out in agony at your entire predicament. So, your ex-boyfriend is on the run and hiding out in your house. This could prove to be interesting...

[egcdeath]

cabin fever

pairing: ransom x female!reader 

warnings: very cheesy and unrealistic. lots of fluff, your teeth might fall out. strangers to lovers

summary: when a nasty snow storm ruins your girls trip to a ski lodge, you have to... adapt to your interesting new roommate. 

word count: 2.7k

a/n: and there was only one bed…. oh my god there was only one bed…. 

Come on, they said. A girls trip would be fun, they said. You all needed a break from your routine and work, they said. Who doesn’t wanna kick off their New Year on vacation, they said. Of course, that was all before you arrived at a remote, overbooked resort in the middle of nowhere, hours after your friends’ flights had been cancelled due to an incoming horrendous snow storm.

Now, you stood near the counter in the lobby, biting back tears as you began to desperately rake your brain for solutions to the bizarre issue you were facing.

“God damnit, don’t you know who I am?” a deep voice at the desk thundered.

“Of course, Mr. Drysdale, but you know that we can’t just give this room up to you in conditions like this,” the poor hotel employee told him, trying to keep his composure. “We have way too many clients for you to get a room like this all by yourself!” After hearing this remark, this ‘Mr. Drysdale’ character, who didn’t seem much older than you were, grit his teeth, leaned his head back, and groaned exasperatedly.

You tried not to be too nosy, but it was nearly impossible not to look over at the dramatic scene that was playing out next to you. A grown man, throwing some sort of hissy fit about not getting a room. Luckily for you, he glanced in your direction at the perfect moment to make an uncomfortable eye contact, and suddenly, his annoyed look turned into a devilish smirk.

Oh no.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m not here all by myself. In fact, my girlfriend is right over there,” he tilted his head to gesture to you. Oh no. This was much worse than you anticipated. When you saw that smirk, you thought that maybe he’d hit on you, maybe even catch you at the bar and make some crude offer to you. You didn’t think he’d be using you in order to get a room.

“Oh, I-” you stuttered, not even knowing where to begin. What the hell was going on? You could barely process the last 5 hours of your life, let alone the scenario you’d just been tossed into.

“Alright, Mr. Drysdale. Sorry about the inconvenience.” The hotel employee didn’t even bother hiding his annoyance as he looked down and began to type on the computer. The man looked back over to you, gave you a little chuckle, then moved a bit closer to you so that he could wrap an arm around you.

You were honestly at a loss for words. What the fuck was happening? Maybe you were asleep. There was no way that this was all real. You were incapable of fighting this situation, or even arguing with this man. To be honest, he was pretty handsome. And it seemed like you two were getting one of the last rooms in the whole lodge, so at least you wouldn’t be sleeping on a couch in the lobby until the snow storms stopped.

“Alright, Hugh, Here’s your key. 2C.” The employee bit the inside of his cheek, enjoying the tiny win of calling the bothersome man a name he hated. Hugh? Really? You thought to yourself while rolling your suitcase away, and keeping up the act of being some stranger’s girlfriend until the pair of you reached the elevator.

As you two stood in silence, the weight of your actions began to sink in. What the hell did you just sign yourself up for? For all you know, this Hugh dude could be a murderer. Or a rapist. Or a crazy murderer rapist. You began to envision your name as the title of some True Crime podcast. ‘The Ski Lodge Slaughter of Y/N L/N.’ You began to feel yourself sweat under your winter coat.

“So, your name?” Hugh asked you casually, as if he hadn’t taken you more or less against your will. He basically kidnapped you. Oh god, ‘The Kidnapping and Killing of Y/N.’ Hugh looked down at you and quirked a brow. “My God, loosen up. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost!” He laughed. You debated whether or not to even tell this man your real name, but in a split irrational decision, you blurted it out.

“Y/N,” you said, then grimaced after. “Hey, don’t try anything funny on my guy,” you warned, trying to sound tough, but probably not sounding like it. “I have pepper spray on me, and I know your full name. No funny business, Hugh Drysdale.” You warned.

You watched as Hugh’s face went through a rollercoaster of emotions, but the general theme of which being amusement. You swore he stifled a laugh as the two of you exited the elevator and walked through the rather cozy halls. The pair of you stopped in front of a pine door labelled 2C.

“How about you call me Ransom,” he told you before opening the door to your home for at least the next week.

----

You spent the first few minutes in your suite looking around at all the luxuries it offered. It was essentially an apartment, and saying you were impressed was an understatement. The space was truly beautiful, with views like nothing you’d ever seen before. The master bedroom overlooked a mountain, the bathroom was massive and gorgeous, the balcony contained a hot tub, and the living room held a massive fireplace. There was only one problem.

There was just one bed.

Maybe you could sleep in the living room or something. It was definitely large enough. You were simmering deep in your thoughts while staring out the main window in the living room when you heard the words of your new roommate.

“It’s nice right?” He asked while coming to stand next to you.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“We used to come here every year, you know.”

“Oh really?” you replied, trying to sound intrigued in order to stay on his good side in the event that he actually was a murderer. “Like, you and your family? Or like, you and your friends..?”

“My family,” he looked away from the window and at you. “I can assure you, it’s always this nice.”

You looked up at him and tried to ignore the fact that you felt like you were a character in a Hallmark movie. “Why’d you stop?” you inquired, and he shrugged before turning away. You honestly felt kinda bad for the guy, even if he was just a random stranger. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I was supposed to be here with my friends. But their flights got cancelled because of some impending snow storm.”

You swore you heard a faint chuckle as Ransom began to walk into the bedroom. “That is pretty funny,” he confirmed before you heard the door close. Rude. You thought to yourself, before sitting down on the sofa in the middle of the room, and trying to find a show to hold you over.

----

The flight must’ve taken more out of you than you initially thought, because you woke up early in the morning with a blanket lazily draped over you, and a sharp pain in your back. You dug into your pocket and checked the time on your partially charged phone. Unsurprisingly, it was way-too-early-to-be-awake-o’clock. Damn jet lag. You tossed the blanket off yourself and figured that if you were awake, you may as well be eating something good. Shuffling into the kitchenette, you found a room service menu, and ordered enough for a small army. It wasn’t like you were paying for the food in the first place.

Sometime after your food arrived, Ransom walked into the room as well, and sat across from you at the table. “Morning babe, what’d you get us?” He asked playfully before popping a strip of bacon into his mouth.

You couldn’t help but to quirk your lips. You were kind of annoyed that he hadn’t even attempted to offer you the bedroom and left you to sleep on an uncomfortable couch, but his playful demeanor was infectious. “Basically everything, babe, hope you don’t mind the tab.” You gave him a little smirk as you lifted a mug of coffee to your lips.

“Not a problem, babe. How’d you know I’d wake up with an appetite this big?” He continued to banter with you.

“I just know my baby so well,” you giggled, then abruptly stopped when you noticed Ransom was not exactly laughing along with you. “Uhm, I’m gonna go take shower,” you said quickly before standing up, pushing your chair in, then escaping to the bathroom.

----

Your awkward interaction had been about a day ago, but luckily you hadn’t had any moments like that since. Some time in the afternoon, you sat back down on the sofa and cuddled into your own little corner. A bit later, Ransom joined you on the opposite end of the couch, and the two of you sat in a comfortable silence while watching reruns of classic Christmas movies ever since.

You were honestly shocked at how fast you and Ransom warmed up to each other, and how quickly you’d let down your (nearly nonexistent) guard. But to be fair, what girl had the willpower to resist the kinds of baby blues in his eyes? And his slightly overly confident, yet funny personality was quickly growing on you. Not to mention the way he was wearing the shit out of every sweater he put on. You couldn’t help but to daydream about the man while a pot in the kitchenette warmed up the milk for your hot chocolates.

“Hurry up, babe,” he whined from the sofa, to which you rolled your eyes. What a brat.

“On my way, dear,” you giggled, before finishing up the drinks and bringing him a mug. “You know, I really didn’t know what to expect when you basically kidnapped me,” you stated while sitting down.

“Haven’t you had fun? I mean, I know we can’t really go out in this kind of weather, but I like to think of myself as a fun guy.” he took a sip of the drink, then reeled at the heat’s assault on his tongue.

“I mean, I never really saw myself having as much fun with a stranger as I did when we played Uno last night,” you gave Ransom a shy smile.

“That was pretty great,” he nodded in agreement, and returned your smile with a lopsided grin.

“You know, I really expected you to be a dick. I’ve never seen someone make as big of a scene as you did in the lobby those days ago,” you snickered, then let your laugh die away when you saw Ransom press his lips together, furrow his brows, and stand. “What?” you asked with concern laced in your voice.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said dryly before walking off to the bedroom. This man and his Goddamn mood swings. You set down your mug, and cuddled into the quilt covering your body before attempting to go to sleep.

--

You awoke to a loud thud, and the sensation of goosebumps prickling all over your skin as a visceral reaction to the frigid cold that had suddenly taken over the suite.

“What the fuck,” you’d heard a groggy voice say from the bedroom. Ransom shuffled out of the room, and stood in the hall leading to the living room while pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Did you do this?” he slurred slightly, words heavy from sleep.

“No!” you pouted. “I just woke up in the same freezer as you!” You sat up, and stretched your arms while you tried to think of a reason why it was suddenly so cold in your suite. Maybe the employees were playing a prank on their least favorite tenant. Maybe the furnace was broken. Either way, you were both cold as hell, and couldn’t find a solution. You only had so many blankets. Suddenly, something came to you.

“Go back to your room, asshole,” you said quietly before wiping the sleep out of your eyes. Ransom obliged, and you began your search for as many toasty clothing articles you could manage. Luckily, you were smart when packing, and made sure to bring plenty of cable knit sweaters with you. In your tired haze, you clumsily threw the articles of clothing on, then began your trek to the bedroom.

“What are you doing here?” Ransom asked while pulling on another sweater, seemingly having the same idea as you.

“Get in the bed,” you demanded, before flopping in the bed next to him and yawning. You nearly moaned at the comfort of a real bed, rather than a sofa, but filtered yourself. “Cuddle me. We’ll be like little penguins.” You whispered sleepily, already feeling more relaxed at the heat radiating off your bed partner.

There was not one word of complaint coming from Ransom as he threw a strong arm around you, then buried his nose in your hair. “‘Night, Y/N,” he told you, his voice trailing off.

Even in your sleepy haze, your heart rate quickened when you realized that the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces.

----

In the morning, you woke up to a soft, yet empty bed. The heat was now clearly back on, and the heat was definitely back on in your face when you began to recall last night’s events.

----

That day was more of the same for you, watching shitty Rom Coms, over-indulging on room service, playing endless rounds of chess, and even more card games. Neither of you addressed the furnace sized elephant in the room of your late-night cuddle session, and you honestly hoped to keep it that way.

Sometime between a game of Solitaire and Crazy, Stupid, Love, you fell fast asleep, and were surprised when you woke up without the crick in your back, and deeply inhaling the scent of pine.

After you’d drifted off, Ransom had decided to carry you into his bedroom. You just looked way too peaceful to have to spend another night in your sofa hole. He set you down on the bed, pulled the comforter over your body, then gave you a quick peck on your forehead.

“What the fuck,” He wondered quietly out loud to himself.

----

Cabin fever was beginning to eat at you and Ransom, and apparently, there was no better way to battle that than to drink excessively. It started when you added a bit of Bailey’s to your hot chocolates, and only escalated as you spent the night raiding the minibar.

After a few too many shots, you grabbed your phone and hit shuffle on a random playlist on your phone. “Come dance with me,” you giggled, pushing his hand away from a bottle of Grey Goose, and grabbing it instead. The pair of you stumbled over each others’ feet for a few minutes, before waltzing into the bedroom together and plopping clumsily onto the bed as a unit, with you straddling Ransom’s thin waist.

“I can’t believe I’m spending New Year’s Eve with you,” you leaned down and spoke into his face. “Imagine if I wasn’t so dumb, and I didn’t go along with your stupid plan to get this room,” your nose was basically pressed into Ransom’s at this point. You looked deep into his eyes, and he was quiet for a moment.

“Y/N, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life,” he commented out of the blue, reaching up to rub his thumb on your flushed cheek.

“Shut up,” you averted your gaze. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He asked raspily.

“Yeah,” you agreed, setting your hand on top of his hand that sat on your cheek.

The sound of fireworks being shot off in the distance briefly caught both of your attention, leading you to look out the window for a moment, before looking back at each other.

“Happy New Year, Y/N,” you were quickly pulled into a sweet, passionate kiss.

And honestly, you couldn’t think of a better way to start the year.