#sorry for the word vomit. i hope some of it makes sense | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gyuswhore · 1 year ago

Text

Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (1)

«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»

PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader

SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.

or;

in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.

GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.

PLAYLIST: right here!

WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)

Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k

masterlist

WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut tags in part 2

(Comments from @toruro): "oh shizzle", "yeah bitch", (on jihyo) "mother", "ME X HAO FIRE EMOJI", "men (derogatory)"

[A/N]: Tumblr is annoying and won't let me post the entire 40k in one go so i have to break it up (part 2 is out tomorrow!!!) i hope you guys enjoy this, thank you for all the love on the teaser, i hope this is able to live up to the hype, thank you so much for being patient with me <33 (ty @toruro for encouraging me when i felt shit ab this gkjnrgvkjrng and beta-ing ofc)

As someone who could vomit at the mere thought of throw-up, you tried not to stare into the toilet bowl as you emptied your guts in this questionable club bathroom.

It was proving to be easier than you’d anticipated, naturally, when your eyes were blurred with bubbling tears. Were they because of your wretching or the feelings that churned in your heart? You can’t be entirely sure, nor can you find yourself having the mental strength to figure out. There’s a banging on the door behind you, one that sends your already aching head into a hurling spin.

“Open the door, I have water for you, it’ll help!” You hear Mika blare from the other side, concern lacing her voice.

You try to blink the tears away but they cascade down your cheek anyway, rubbing at them furiously before preparing to haul yourself off the disgusting bathroom floor. Taking a deep breath was a horrible idea, you realize when an atrocious mixture of scents hit your nostrils, cringing visibly.

Washing your hands at the sink took you another five minutes, scrubbing furiously at your palms and nails with the dollar store soap the club graciously placed in a fancy dispenser, pumping more than a normal amount to rid yourself of the paranoia of tainted hands.

Unfortunately for you, your palms were tainted with entities beyond mere soap and water’s powers.

It was evident with the way you exited the bathroom feeling perhaps worse than you went in. Mika was nowhere to be seen in the hall, moving along to the private room where the rest of the group was to find her springing up as you enter.

“You weren’t answering, so I left. Here, water, I told you to be careful with what you drink; you haven’t had a bite to eat either.” She reprimands.

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly, not having a reasonable excuse to give her.

Joshua peeks over her shoulder, “You feeling any better?”

The water is slow to go down as you sputter before replying in a hoarse voice, “Yeah. Way.”

To be fair, the water did help. But it was you who was the problem, blaming the alcohol for the behaviour all your friends knew perfectly well where it was stemming from. Not a word was said though, for your sake or their own. You wrap up quickly after that, Joshua insisting to drop you off home himself, quoting how Seokmin would have his head if he left you in the hands of a taxi driver in this state — age gap be damned. You can only thank him as he pulls up to your destination, hoping you’ll remember this in the morning to return the favour in the future.

“Before you go, can we talk for a second?” he piques, halting you as you remove your seatbelt.

“Sure, yeah. What is it?”

“I’m not gonna ask if you’re doing alright, not when you’re gonna give me the same answer as always. But…please take care of yourself. You’ve been drinking quite a bit lately, and it can’t be helping you at all”

You listen to him silently, not a thought in your brain. But you nod anyway.

“Thanks for looking out, Shua. I’m…I’m probably not gonna be going out for a while, you’re right,” you reply, quietly, a small smile on your face that you can only hope is reassuring.

“I don’t mean lock yourself up, either. You don’t give yourself a break and then try to make up for it by drinking your self faint every week, that’s never gonna help you. You know that.” He speaks in a soft, soothing voice, a hand coming up to pat your hair before landing on your clasped hands on your lap. “You know what, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, we can go the fair just me, you and Seok-”

“I have class tomorrow.”

“Like showing up hungover is gonna help you retain any information. Just skip.”

You sigh a deep exhale, deciding to simply be upfront. “I kinda just wanna stay home for a while, going out’s kinda making it worse. I think rotting in front of my laptop’s what I really need right now”

Throwing in a tinkle of a laugh, you hope you’ve sold yourself.

“Alright,” he sounds slightly unconvinced but doesn’t push you further, “I’ll drop in to bother you tomorrow though, don’t try stoping me”

“Okay,” you say, smiling a little wider. “I’m gonna go now, goodnight.”

“Wait!” he stops you once again, right before your about to shut the door. “Have you talked to Mingyu at all?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Shua. Night”

With that you’ve slammed the door of his car shut, missing the ghost of a “goodnight” that leaves Joshua’s lips as he watches you walk inside the building.

“And stop staying out so late at night! What were you supposed to do if Joshua wasn’t there?” Seokmin rants as he walks back and forth grabbing you water and pills as you finish your forced breakfast.

“Take a taxi?” you suggest sarcastically.

“What? And get me called to the station to identify your body parts when some dude decides he wants to play cannibalistic butcher?” he screeches, and it has you wincing and grabbing onto your head at his volume. You dramatize it a little, hoping he’d shut it with his nagging if you gained some extra sympathy. He doesn’t stop talking, but he does tone it down.

“Whatever, I’m not going out anymore.” You push your plate and bowl away as you hop off the stool and stalk off to your room, making as much noise as possible in the process.

Your brother calls after you, but you don’t stop. Your head was pounding,

“Are you gonna take your meds? HELLO? Or do you enjoy the feeling of having your head split open?” he slams open the door of your room mid-sentence, going on at your blanket-clad figure on the bed.

“I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, you’re taking your fucking meds.” A cup of water is thrust into your hands as you pick up the pills from Seokmin’s open palms, swallowing before he decides to shove it down your throat himself.

He waits on the edge of the bed, checking to make sure you actually swallowed the pill instead of hiding it under your tongue like you’ve done since you were kids.

“I’m not stopping you from going out if that’s what you think I mean,” he starts, a lot softer this time, and you’re taken back to your conversation with Joshua last night. “You’ve been going out and coming home wasted a lot more than normal lately. I don’t know if it’s because your college agendas are finally catching up to you or what.”

“I’m just…My friends are always out and I wanna be with them, it’s normal,” you grumble, disappearing deeper into your sheets.

“You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?”

‘Yeah, yeah, now shoo. Your voice is making my head hurt worse, I doubt Advils are immune to your yapping.”

“Fine, fuck you too” he mumbles, leaving the room only to pop back in a second later. “Mom called last night, told her you were at a study group. Might wanna call her back before she catches a flight herself.”

You wave two fingers up in a salute from your flat position on the bed, hearing him close the door. You don’t sit up until you hear the TV blare from the living room, knowing he had parked himself on the couch and has his attention diverted.

The headache wasn’t actually that bad, you just really wanted to be left alone, and your brother had a habit to do the opposite when asked, so it had to be done.

What on Earth were you supposed to tell him, anyway? That his best friend in the whole world rejected his sister on the spot when she confessed her decades long feelings? That she was ruining her liver and kidneys every weekend over a rejection? By his best friend in the whole world?

Yeah, that’s an easy conversation.

Snuggling into the covers you try not to think back to the abomination that was your birthday party just a few weeks ago, but your thoughts yank you there anyway, as if to remind you of every wretched detail of the encounter like it was wasn’t already burned into your frontal lobe like a brand.

You were on a high; too happy, too excited. It’s not like you were expecting anything for your first birthday at uni anyway, you were too old for pink blowout parties and too young for the madness of college level clubbing. You were excited for takeout with your brother, to sit in front of the TV for the rest of the night, maybe even stick a candle in one of your burgers and call it your cake. Plans were changed when you walked into your home, ready to wind down for the night and celebrate in your own way.

It was a full house, food and drinks everywhere, complete with a loud “SURPRISE” as you walk through the door. You remember hugging both your brother and Mingyu when they tell you they did all of this for you, an overwhelming feeling overcoming you as you grip them tight, hoping it’ll transfer all the gratitude you couldn’t express.

You’re breathless as the night progresses, trying hard to focus on the conversations at hand, trying to be a good host. Failing miserably, you can’t force your gaze from wandering every few minutes, searching for Mingyu in the crowd, watching him move his mouth as he talked, throw his hair back as he laughed, smile that beautiful, beautiful smile of his, perfect teeth on display.

It had been bliss these past few weeks, the lingering smiles he would give you, the flirtatious attempts never gone unnoticed. The smoothest of words slipping right off his tongue as he gave you eyes that twinkled and sparkled and blew air directly into the embers in your heart. You would still yourself as they would happen, like the mirage would crack and shatter if you even dared to breathe; it felt unreal. After all these years, you realised soon, Kim Mingyu may have began to like you.

You’d be lying if you said you were completely sober when it happened, drinks were passed around and as the birthday girl you didn’t seem to have a choice to back down, already a little hot and wide eyed barely halfway through the night.

And when Mingyu doesn’t interact with you all night, you go to him as the numbers in the house dwindled, cornering him as he collected bottles in the kitchen.

“Hey!”, he sounds enthusiastic, “You having fun yet?”

“Yeah, thanks again for doing this.” your remember fidgeting with your fingers and nails, digging them into each other as you let yourself spew.

“Are you gonna say thank you at every chance for the next six months? It's your first birthday away from home. Besides it was Seok’s idea, I just helped out.” He had said, beaming.

“Mingyu, can I talk to you about something…?”

You sigh loudly as you replay the memory, face pushed into the covers as you bite back a scream at the blood rushing to your head.

Stupid. Idiot. Absolutely brainless.

“Oh.” He had breathed out when you had spilled your entire heart out to him standing in that kitchen, visibly taken aback at your abruptness. “I…I’m sorry I’m not quite sure what to say.”

You still remember that sickening feeling, that big ball of junk and emotions that sank lower and lower in your abdomen, settling a deep hurt in your chest that made it difficult to breathe.

Laying in your bedroom, weeks after the fact, you can still feel your breathing go slightly erratic at the memory, hot tears springing your eyes, burning before you wipe them away. You were aware how baffling it was, how you were letting it affect you to this degree, but you justified it with the years you had remained quiet, yearning on the sidelines.

You deserved to wallow in this pit.

At least that’s what you thought. But after last night you wonder if you had stopped indulging in the sorrow and let it ruin you instead. A sigh escapes you at the thought of ending yet another night in a dirty bathroom, makeup smeared and guts removed, misery becoming the only thing you were allowed to feel in the aftermath.

You reach for your phone on the bedside table, flicking through your unread messages, barely registering a word as you leave them opened and unanswered. There wasn’t an ounce of willpower in you even after a full night’s sleep, turning your phone off before shoving it in your bedside drawer, forgotten. You take a moment to stare at the ceiling, having no energy to get up to turn your lights off. Until the doorbell sounds.

Of course you knew who it was the second you heard, but the voice paired with your brother’s conversing outside was enough to have you catapulting out of bed. You slap your hand over the switchboard, turning off all your lights, moving across the room to pull your curtains shut, cascading complete darkness in the room. You fly under the covers as a last effort to convince, covering your face with the sheets just as you hear a knock.

The door creaks open slightly as Seokmin calls out your name.

“Are you up? Mingyu’s here, he brought coffee.” He whispers slowly. You don’t respond.

He calls out your name one more time before you hear the door click shut. You don’t move till you hear his muffled voice on the other end, “She’s knocked out, her head was hurting, better let her rest.”

Heat pricks the sides of your face as your body finally relaxes, borderline embarrassed at how you were hiding from him like a middle schooler who thinks she’s in love. Which you were at one point; now you're a college kid who thinks she’s in love.

You try not to focus too much on the sounds coming from outside, burying under the covers to attempt at sleep for real this time. Eyes screwed shut, you can’t help but open them at every other intonation. There was no way you could figure out what they were saying if you tried, between the door and the TV, it was all a taunting buzz in your ears.

You do end up falling asleep. But only after you hear the droning of the TV turn off, and the distinct goodbyes as the front door clicks shut.

Keeping to your promise, you stay away from late nights for the next couple of weeks. Joshua so far as commends you for declining invitations, offering dinner on him on one particular phone call.

“You know, I was serious when I said I was proud of you.” Joshua voices solemnly as you attempt to cut a strip of meat onto the grill. You snort as a response.

“I wasn’t like, an alcoholic, you’re making it sound worse than it was.”

“It was still bad for it to affect you in that way. Takes a lot to get back up from heartbreak”

“Especially one that’s lasted for nearly a decade.” You sigh as you give up on the meat, handing the scissors and tongs over.

“Are we still talking about that?” He raises his eyebrows.

A smile makes its way to your face, nibbling on a radish, “No.”

“Good. Because we need to talk about if we want our noodles hot or cold.”

“Seok! SEOK! Where the fuck did you put my pimple patches?” Your screams echo across the house yet garner no response. Opting to yank open the fridge, you dig through through the box of face masks to find them possibly laying at the bottom, forgotten. Seokmin bounds into the kitchen, towel in hand as he pats at his damp hair.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you huff, shoving the unfruitful box back into the cabinet, "you used up all the patches.”

“Patches? Pimple patches? We’ve been out for a month, just use this tube in the drawer.” Pulling open the drawer, he rummages for a moment before emerging with a sickly yellow tube of what looked like poorly marketed toothpaste.

“You want me to put this on my face?”

“Yeah, it works, zit on my nose was gone by morning.” He stuffs the tube back in the drawer not before squeezing a small amount on his fingers to dab on your face.

“Ew, get your dirty hands away from my face.” You grip his wrists before he tries to move in further.

He does nothing but shush you, shaking off your hands as you grumble in silence, letting him finger paint on your face. You move up to fix a roller on your head, undoing it before rolling the bit back in, resulting in another “tsk” emitting form your brothers concentrated face.

“Okay, enough! I don’t have that many zits.” You pull away as Seokmin moves to wash his hands.

“Are you going to bed right now?” He asks as you move over to the door.

“Yeah. I’m not going to sleep, though.”

“Gyu’s coming over, you were asleep when he was here last too.”

It seemed as though every bone in your body rattled against your flesh.

“When is he coming?” You ask quickly, frozen in your spot.

The doorbell rings.

“Right now, I guess.” He snickers to himself.

You can only watch in mild horror as he moves to open the door, words escaping you. You follow behind him, trying to stop him, yet not doing much other than reach the front door yourself, fingers frozen yet mildly trembling.

“Wait!” You finally whisper-shout, “Don’t open it!”

Seokmin pauses to give you a look, “Why? He’s seen you look worse, it’s fine”

The door wrenches open before you can protest any further, a cartoonish moment of the hunched figure of you, hands out in a nearly there grip. You’ve failed, and the chorus of ‘hey’’s reach your ears in almost a mocking manner. There’s a conscious effort on your end to not look up too high, keeping to chest eye level for your own sanity. What you find once your vision clears from the white blur, is that there’s not one, but two people at the door.

Mingyu’s brought a girl.

Standing behind the door meant there was no immediate attention on you, which should have been a perfectly good opportunity for you to book it to your room, but you don’t. You stand there instead, staring at the back of their heads like a child in wonder.

Once you are noticed by your brother, he winces at your appearance, a silent apology, like he didn’t know about this new guest either. Or he was apologising for what he was about to do next, you wouldn’t know, because you wouldn’t be hearing him out when you throttle him later.

“This is my sister”

All three sets of eyes are on you now, a moment of silence as they take in your appearance. The grandma nightgown, in all its blue and collared glory, does absolutely nothing to boost your confidence in front of the very pretty lady, whose hair cascades down her back, whose skin stands as clear as a summer sky.

“Hi!” She breaks the awkward silence first, “I’m Jia, it’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about the both of you.”

What?

“Mingyu has a hard time keeping his mouth shut, I’m not surprised.” Seokmin tries to joke as he motions for the couch in the centre of the room. You catch him kicking a stray sock out of the way as he urges them to sit.

With the way your brother is acting, you don’t doubt this is his first time meeting this girl. Mingyu is yet to clarify why he would bring a friend to the house unannounced, but something tells you you already know. You remain on the sidelines, inching away to the hallway slowly, trying your hardest to not bring attention to yourself.

“I haven’t seen you around campus ever, are you new?” Seokmin prods, his voice slightly on edge.

“Oh, um-” Jia begins but is cut off by Mingyu as he speaks for her.

“Jia doesn’t go to our uni, we met at Seungcheol’s, we’ve been dating for a couple months.”

There it is.

“Oh! Couple months? How come I didn’t know?” You don’t miss the hurt laced in your brother's words, your fists clenching slightly at the oncoming silence.

“That’s on me, sorry. It’s just…I didn’t want anyone to know ‘cause I thought he was playing around when he said he liked me, I wanted to see if he was being real or not.” She laughs nervously, and you see the back of her head move as she talked. You can’t help but note the arm that’s swung across the back of the couch where she sat. “Please don’t be mad at him! I promise it was me that stopped him.”

You don’t hear too much of what happens afterwards as you slip away into the crevice of your bedroom, standing in the entryway in absolute silence, attempting to absorb what you had just witnessed outside. Approaching the full length mirror on the other end, it takes a lot out of your to bring yourself to look straight into it, regretting it immediately as you acknowledge your appearance.

Of course, the woman who actually succeeded in winning over the man that rejected you had to witness you in the unappealing yellow paste that your brother graciously dotted all over your face, not leaving the giant rollers in your hair to cut you any slack either. You could cry about it, but you don’t. Instead you lay back in your bed, sniffling in the dark, just as you had the last time Mingyu was over.

It’s significantly easier to drown out the voices this time round, especially when your mind is preoccupied with a couple months. Your birthday was a couple months ago, does that mean they started dating right after that conversation? Or were they already offical and you had waltzed in with your princess dreams about your brother’s best friend being in love with you.

It made perfect sense at the time, and no sense at all anymore as you wonder why on Earth he was being so forwardly flirty with you if there was another girl all along. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you recall how he had quit perceiving you altogether after that night, and you can’t help but mentally commend Jia for testing him by keeping it quiet. Especially when he was going around flirting with his best friend’s sister.

It didn’t take long for you to guage Mingyu’s reputation when you first dropped into university, the senior having made himself a reputation none less similar than he had in high school. He was popular, but with his outgoing personality and a face like that it was hard not to be liked. Your brother was right there beside him, living it up as carefree college kids, suddenly remembering he now had a little sister to tend to. You were grateful for the both of them for being there to help you take your first baby steps, all the rites of passage and which professors sucked the least, not leaving the leaky water fountain to never drink from.

That was when Mingyu’s (supposed) advances had begun.

You’re projected back to first semester, when both of them had dragged you to the same couch outside, talking about an “important thing you should know”.

“You walk into class one day, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. Your professor drones on as usual, your classmates look bored as usual, you’re tired as usual. But then!” Seokmin breathes in sharply, and you hear Mingyu bound to the other side of your vision, emerging on the opposite end of the room with a backpack swung over his shoulder.

“The man of your dreams walks by…” Seokmin continues and you snap your head towards him in a panic, suddenly afraid he had found you out. He’s busy though, making ethereal hands in Mingyu’s general direction, while the latter walks in comedic slow motion like he’s in a K-drama b-roll, complete with passes over his hair and a nonchalant yet controlled expression.

“What is this about?” It comes out snappier than you had intended, but you’ve had one scare already.

“Just!” your brothers hands turn from graceful to clenched, like it was you he was trying to squish you for interrupting him, “Listen, alright?”

“The man of your dreams walks by,” he goes back to his narrator voice, “and you wonder where he’s been all your life. You start talking, you’re enamoured. You start thinking about introducing him to your parents, what your wedding’s gonna look like, what your kids are gonna look like!”

Your face is becoming increasingly warped the more you listen to him speak, not being able to fathom where this was going.

“But no!” It’s Mingyu that speaks this time, pushing a jolt out of you as he slams the backpack on the floor, pointing directly at you for added effect, “You’re better than that!”

“What the fuck-” you start, but are shushed by a physical finger on your lips as Mingyu shushes you. Seokmin slaps his hand away.

“Our point is, that you’re probably gonna come across someone who you think is your next boyfriend.” Your brother continues, “But lucky for you, you have two seasoned professionals here to tell you that it’s nothing but fresher’s fever.”

“It’s a new place, new people, loads of new experiences; you’re bound to latch on one of the first couple pieces of meat. Our advice is don’t, because it will happen to you. But you also now know that your just in a deluded stage right now. Give it a semester before you start dating people, trust.” Mingyu finishes for Seokmin as he thumps down on the couch next to you.

“So all of this was just another stay away from boys lecture?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Yes and no. You can date whoever you want,” Seokmin answers coolly before quickly adding, “but not right now.”

It was laughable, the thought of latching onto another person when you’d been trying exactly that for years. To have anyone catch your eye, to have anyone sweep you away from this madness that came in the form of Kim Mingyu. Neither of these seasoned professionals had a thing to worry about though, because you weren’t latching on anything that came out of this institute. You had already done so, in a stage more impressionable than this, years and years before any of them knew of the dangers of young girls and new boys in their vicinity.

“Okay, I know you’re like on a self inflicted party ban and all that…” Joshua starts the second he places himself at your table, still haggard looking from jogging across campus.

“Don’t even try.” You warn with filled cheeks.

“Girl, let him finish.” Nayeon chides next to you.

You exhale through your nose heavily, going back to pick at your tray as Joshua continues.

“Cheol’s throwing a little party tonight to celebrate the end of midterms.” He starts, “You should come, it's only gonna be a handful of people.”

“A handful?” You repeat, unable to bite back the amusement in your voice.

“Come on, your brother’s going as well! You’ll be fine, I promise we’ll keep you in check.”

“I don’t need to be kept in check, I’m fine.” You grumble.

“Perfect! Nothing stopping you then, I’ll pick you both up at 8.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s back to sprinting out the vicinity, garnering looks from oncoming traffic, off to his next pestering destination

“I don’t think I’d explicitly agreed.” You voice.

“He got what he wanted.” Nayeon snorts, “Whatever, we’ll get ready at my place after this.”

“Weren’t you guys worried about me? Now you’re actively dragging me to parties.” You drop your utensils onto the tray.

“Too much of either isn’t a good thing, you went from forgetting what home looks like to exclusively holing yourself up in there.” She stabs a piece of potato with a chopstick and tries to pry it in your mouth. “Besides, Cheol’s parties are always super intimate, they’re all gonna be people you know, don’t worry.”

‘Super intimate’, as Nayeon had put it, had amounted to at least fifty people as you take in the crowd at the floor of the house. Despite not being packed to the brim, it was still coming out to look like a full house, random items already scattered across the floors in true frat party fashion.

“Do you want a beer?” Nayeon asks, dragging you to the kitchens by the hand as you crane your neck to spot people.

“Uh, no. Is there juice?”

“Um, there’s a questionable looking fruit punch.” she wrinkles her nose at the blaring red bowl on the counter.

You sigh, grabbing a cup, “I’ll risk it.”

Joshua was air the second he had walked in with you, whisked away to socialize with his own hoard of acquaintances, leaving both you and Nayeon to fend for yourselves. You’re yet to spot your brother, granted you’d only been here a mere five minutes, his rowdy demeanor making him quite easy to spot in usual circumstances.

Taking a casual sip of the electric red liquid you’re forced to make a face as you register the flavour, alerting Nayeon, who was too busy fiddling through multiple crystal bottles.

“What? Is it bad?”

“What the fuck is that?” You sputter in astonishment, wondering how the bowl was already half empty. “Who’s drinking this stuff?”

She grabs the cup from you before taking a gulp herself, emerging the same gagging mess you were, eyes watering at the taste. It seemed almost comical when Seokmin shows up behind her, waiting to greet only to find both of you doubled over. His eyes move over to the potion in Nayeon’s hand and passes a knowing look.

“He’s brought The Whole Shabang out of retirement.” He states like it was the obvious answer.

Nayeon spits first, “Are we supposed to know what that means?”

“Cheol got drunk one time in freshman year and mixed every ounce of alcohol he owned into one big bowl of despair. We retired it last year when the bowl broke and stained his counters. But anyway, beginners are supposed to dilute it before downing it.”

“That’s great and everything but why is it so red?” You ask.

Another voice speaks from behind you, turning around to find Seungcheol himself. “There’s an entire thing of food colouring in there, gives it an edge don’t you think?”

“I’m scared of you.” You deadpan, a sour expression remaining on your face.

Seunghceol is quick to suggest the backyard for some fresh air to distract from the flavour it’s left in your mouths, commenting on the nice weather. Neither him nor your brother stick around for too long though, dipping at the holler of their names somewhere inside. You’re comfortable though, despite being blocked off by a concrete railing, the stairs make a nice haven for the both of you to lie down and stare into the clearer than usual sky. Cheol was right, it was nice outside.

“I can’t lay down like this, I need to get a drink.” Nayeon announces not even five minutes later.

“Why didn’t you get one when we were there?” You groan, but she doesn’t respond as she hops back inside, throwing a promise to be quick in the air behind her.

The wall supports you as you deflate into it, legs sprawled across the steps in disarray. Nobody could see you anyway, taking full advantage as you practically manspread. The side of the pool that’s in your vision is empty by grace; calm save for the giant flamingo floaty that bobs itself into view from the edge of the wall you lean against. A breathy laugh leaves you at the sight.

The railing on your other side is mostly concealed, you can still make out the wicker sofa set, complete with an unlit fireplace. It’s unoccupied, for the time being, as you register a conversation floating closer and closer to your ears. Wondering if Nayeon had brought friends, you stand up quickly to look over the railing to check for her face over the sliding door that leads inside.

There’s no Nayeon in sight.

But there is Mingyu.

His mere presence knocks your butt back onto the concrete the second you see him stumbling over the threshold with a hoard of his friends, nothing short of his picturesque party strut. There was little reason for you to hide from him at all, considering the very possible notion that he would look right past you if you happened across his line of sight. Space floating in, he’d ignore you for your sake or his own, perhaps even both.

For now, he’s seated himself with a few other people on the wicker sofas, leaving you hugging your knees to your chest, head on the concrete wall with the lingering feeling akin to that of a trapped mouse. Closing your eyes, you blow out air in an attempt to relax yourself, take light of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You could get up and leave in this very moment, possibly go unnoticed if you stalked back inside before they began their rattle not meant for your ears.

And yet, you find yourself unable to move, not even when you hear their topic shift to Mingyu’s new beau. Suddenly you wish you’d moved inside the moment you saw him.

“Was it you that stopped Jia from coming to parties?” You hear somebody ask.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Mingyu grumbles, he pauses and you assume he’s taking a swing of his drink. “We started going out and suddenly she didn’t wanna come, that’s fine though, it isn’t her vibe anyway.”

There’s a snigger that moves across everybody seated, you hear loud thwack before Mingyu speaks again, “What’s so fucking funny?”

“This girl’s made you work for it, huh?”

“Isn’t that like, his brand? Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one yapping about liking a challenge all the time.”

“Yeah, remember Minji?”

“I still think she was only pretending to not like you, her clique was always smacking at her to straighten up when you’d come over like we couldn’t see everything.” You could almost hear the eye rolling.

“Change the subject, will you?” Mingyu proposes, sounding exhausted at the prodding already.

“I apologise for the ex talk and nothing else.”

There’s a pause for another choke of laughter across the group, and you wonder what it was that they found so funny.

“I don’t know if I should say this…” Somebody begins, but is cut off by Mingyu.

“Then don’t say it.” He snaps, but you don’t miss his own jest.

“I honestly thought you were gonna date Seok’s sister at some point. I mean, common consensus is that bagging your best friend’s sister is… what you’d call a challenge.”

What the fuck.

You feel your eyes drifting closed at the turn this conversation has taken, wishing to simply fall asleep at what it’s come to. Somebody speaks up.

“Nah, that’s like, the grand slam prize, that one comes after he’s done hanging with the side quests.”

The situation is making itself out to be something out of a fever dream.

Mingyu tsks, and you note a jostle happening through the gaps of the railing. “I’m leaving.”

You find yourself hugging yourself tighter, eyes shut like he wouldn’t be able to see if you couldn’t see him. Not that it was possible unless he peered directly through the railing in his peripheral.

“OKAY! Okay! We’re kidding.” There’s a pause. “Okay, but really…”

Another pause, this time longer. You hate how you can picture the ghost of an exasperated smile on Mingyu’s face, a bite of his lip perhaps, dejected at the shoulder with his longing, distant look. You hate how your mind fills the gaps of him the railing won’t allow you to see.

“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.

“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.

“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”

There’s a chorus of hisses and oh’s, a few bounts of laughter in their disbelief. You can feel your stomach twist, heat pooling your figure.

It would’ve been better if his words had hit you like a gong, maybe the aftermath wouldn’t have felt as horrid. But the connotations crept up on you like a million spiders making their trek up to your brain, waiting to stick their crawlers in the bits that would allow those words to hold meaning for you. You can feel the electric red of Seungcheol’s god awful concoction begin to rise up in your throat like bile; burning, imprinting.

Mingyu had said what he had said. And everything was in it’s place, in finality.

Despite the nearly four year age gap, you and Seokmin had co-existed without the semblance of an older-younger duo. It was mostly owed to Seokmin's shy nature, and his difficulty making solid friends. That, however, didn’t last long as your brother progressed through middle school.

You had met Mingyu for the first time when Seokmin brought his first ever friend from school home for dinner.

Despite being barely nine years old and half spoon fed by your mother at the same table, the prospect of Seokmin’s new friend was equal to you having a new friend – which caused enough excitement as you brought your favourite cartoon books into your brother’s room to show this new person after dinner.

As the following year progressed, you saw less and less of your brother, and more and more of newer faces of ‘friends’ that you weren’t allowed to play with. It was distressing enough to be told by your mother that something of your brother’s was not yours, but even more so when you were kicked out of the room by Seokmin himself for the very first time.

It wasn’t as trauamtising as it felt in the moment, because you grew to find your own group of friends, doing the same as you’d kick your brother out for being annoying – except unlike you, he was doing it on purpose.

Mingyu was a recurring face, one that was nicer to you on the days your brother was meaner, more forgiving on the days your relatively new middle school was relentless. He fit himself in your life easier than you had realised, more comfortable than you soon found you were comfortable with.

“Did you take my guitar picks?” Your brother bursts into your room just as your about to fall into your after school nap, grip loosening on the book in hand.

Jolting awake at the sound of loud voice, you don’t respond as you attempt to orient yourself.

“Well? Did you?” He demands again.

“What? No, I don’t know where your stupid guitar pick is.” You grumble. “Get out.”

“It’s not in my room that has to mean you took it, where is it?”

Mingyu emerges from behind him, hand on his arm as he tries to pull his iron grip off of your doorway. “It’s probably just in your bag, you haven’t even looked!”

Kicking the covers off, you sit up in a disarray, progressively annoyed at your brother for ruining your perfect descent into dreamland.

“I don’t have shit, you just suck at keeping tabs on your stuff!” You grit.

There’s a stagnant pause as he stares at you from the doorway. You can sense it coming. And it does.

“MOM! SHE JUST SWORE!” He yells into the hallway, bounding to where your mother was, leaving an unsure Mingyu in your doorway.

Surprisingly, you were just glad he was gone, wanting to melt back into the covers. You make eye contact with Mingyu. “I really don’t have it.”

“It’s probably in there somewhere, he’s just not looking.” He mumbles, standing a little awkward. “Um, go back to whatever it was, I’ll close your door.”

He does so, allowing you to finally slump back into your pillows to go back to your nap.

You find out quickly that you couldn't sleep after that.

The controller is becoming increasingly uncomfortable to hold. It doesn’t help that you’re brother is chewing on his four additional pieces of gum behind you on the couch, making obnoxious comments about your gaming form.

You’re also sitting a foot away from Kim Mingyu on the floor, with whom you’re forced to battle out on Mario Kart.

“Why’re you clicking the buttons so hard, chill out.” You heat Seokmin say, continued by his wet chomping right by your ear.

“How hard is it to chew with your mouth closed?” Mingyu grits.

“What? Like this?” Seokmin leans over to Mingyu, chewing even louder, mouth wrenched open and closed right into his ear. Mingyu makes a sound before falling to his side, covering his ears at the ghastly sound, pushing him back with his free hand to shut him up.

You barely crack a smile at the unfolding, watching them continue to wrestle half on the floor. It’s noisy when you set your controller down, chest heavy, unfolding your legs to walk into the hallway to your room. Unnoticed.

You only reemerge to feed yourself, inspecting the fridge for possible leftovers. Settling on an apple, you’re closing the fridge when you see Mingyu walk in, seemingly taken aback to see you there. You freeze with your mouth still attached to the apple to take a bite.

“Oh! Where’d you go when we were playing? Didn't notice you gone till I got him to spit that wad of gum out his mouth.”

“Uh, just tired. Took a nap.”

He hums in response and you're just about to leave when he starts talking again.

“Hey, did you move the popcorn somewhere else? Could’ve sworn it was in here last week,” he mumbles as he rummages through a cabinet.

“Oh. Um. It’s in the pantry.” You move before you can think, grabbing the box and slamming it on the counter, pausing briefly before reaching for the popcorn bowl and setting it on the counter next to it. “Here.”

You don’t wait for a reply before grabbing your apple and moving out the kitchen, only to bump into your brother at the door.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Napping,” you say, moving around him to go your own way but are stopped yet again as he calls for you.

“We’re gonna watch a movie! You can lie on the couch.”

Turning around, you catch sight of your brother still in the doorway, and more intriguing, Mingyu also expecting an answer from inside the kitchen behind him. You gulp as you attempt to remain casual.

“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun.”

You’re nearly at your door when you hear your brother speak. “She didn’t even ask what we were watching.”

Nayeon catches up with you before you notice, pulling your headphones away from your ears to announce her presence, not slowing down as you walked to campus.

“Are you still upset about that Mingyu thing?” She asks when noting your silent demeanor. “We talked about this, come on.”

“Yeah and we concluded that it’s not an easy thing for me to just get over.” You huffed.

“You know what he’s like…”

“Which is why I should’ve seen this all coming.” You turn around the corner with her.

“That’s not what I meant either.”

“I don’t know what came over me that day. I was doing so well for so long and I had to go ruin it because I’m – I deluded myself into thinking I had a chance.” You’re breathing heavily when you find a table in the air conditioned common room, yanking your bag off and slumping into the sofa. “None of this would’ve happened if I just shut the fuck up.”

“What wouldn’t have happened?” Seungcheol plops down next to Nayeon, butting into the conversation.

“Aren’t you intrigued.” Nayeon muses.

“Especially when it’s none of my business.”

“Charming.”

“Anywho,” he sighs, throwing himself back against the couch. “I’ve been tasked with rounding people up for an assignment.”

“Are you gonna experiment on us?” you ask, referring to his chemistry major.

“Nah, this is for an elective. Faculty needs volunteers for a photography class.”

“So they need models?” You ask.

“I mean, anyone who signs up is automatically a model, so yeah they need models.”

“Are we getting paid?”

“You get to say you modeled for me.”

“How convincing.” Nayeon deadpans.

You’re stifling a snicker as you see Joshua walking up to where you were sat, planting himself next to you.

“What’re we talking about?” He asks, pulling his laptop out almost immediately.

“Nothing, just how Seungcheol needs a reality check,” you sigh.

He barely acknowledges the comment, going straight to business typing away. “Hey, you're staying for the summer right?”

“Ew,” Seungcheol voices.

“I am,” You confirm.

“For what?” He sputters.

“Is this you offering to pay for a round trip?”

He silences quickly after that, giving room for Joshua to ask his next question.

“Are your parents coming for your brother’s grad?”

“Mhm, only for the night, though.”

“Oh, did you hear back from the bookstore too?” he asks.

“I’m gonna apply right before break, I’m swamped right now.”

“Let me know when you do, the restaurant might need another hire, you could work there if you want.”

You make a face. “Appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think I’m in the right state of mind to be working in customer service.”

Joshua’s hands freeze over his keyboard as he breathes out a delayed laugh. Nayeon mimics him.

“Right state of mind?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Wait, what were you talking about before I sat down again-”

He’s cut off by a voice bellowing your name from across the common room. All four of you perk up at the sound, locking in on Mika aggressively pointing her wrist at you from yards away. You sit up with a jerk, checking the time. You were nearly thirty minutes late for your lecture.

“Josh, move.” You basically climb over him to get out of your seat, waving a hasty goodbye as you sprint to an exasperated Mika.

“I’ve been waiting outside the hall for ages, you said we’d go in together!” she chides as you both speedwalk.

“Sorry, I lost track of time…” You huff out a breath. “I just started talking about…whatever.”

“Why’d you have that face on in there?” she asks.

“Huh? Oh, I was-”

“Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.” She picks up the pace and reaches the door before you do, rendering it impossible for you to speak to her after that.

You’ve forgotten about it by the time you come home to an empty house, both Mika and Nayeon in your arms. It doesn’t take long for them to make themselves comfortable on the couch, looking at you expectantly like children waiting to be fed. You do that, courtesy of the half eaten pizza that sits on the coffee table.

“I think you need to get drunk,” Nayeon voices from her end of the couch.

Mika is immediate with her response, “Don’t encourage her.”

“Hey!” You pout, “I haven’t gotten drunk in a while.”

“Keep it that way,” she shudders, “don’t need another Mingyu fiasco.”

Your chewing slows at the sound of his name, a strange feeling settling in your stomach at the thought of him. Setting down your half eaten slice, you brush off your fingers.

“I mean…” Nayeon starts after a long pause.

“We don’t. Need another Mingyu fiasco, I mean.” You cut in.

“If only he’d learn to shut up.” Nayeon grumbles, a sour expression on her face.

Mika’s been shifting looks between the both of you, seemingly confused. “Am I missing something?”

Despite not having the intention, you find yourself telling her what you heard while enclosed in the staircase. You attempt to keep it concise, for the sake of your own sanity, but Nayeon’s grumbling is only pushing you deeper into a rant. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t let a couple frustrated tears make their way down your face.

Mika’s response as brisk as your explanation was passionate, brushing over the topic quickly before you got too heated. You appreciated it.

“Have you considered signing up for the photography thing?” Mika asks.

“You know, I was thinking about that too.” Nayeon pulls a finger up in signed patience to wait till she finished the remaining pizza in her mouth. “You should do it. It’ll put your mind off…him. You’ll be busier too.”

“I have a million things to do, I’m busy enough.” You retort.

“You’re busy studying at home. Where he could drop in at any point of day.” She points.

Your open your mouth to rebut again, only to close it as you fail to find a reason to deny her point. “Okay, still!”

“Just – think about it, okay. It’ll put more on your plate but maybe it’ll help.”

That was the last of your Mingyu talk, not that you could carry on when your brother comes slumping into the house after his class, stealing a slice of pizza as he makes his way to his room. He’s slumped at the shoulders, and you egg him to take a nap before he collapsed on the living room floor.

Both Nayeon and Mika are quick to leave after that, leaving you with leftover pizza and your thoughts.

You sprawl your things out on the coffee table, taking advantage of the silent house to get some work done. Nayeon was right, as you think of the prospect of Mingyu entering at any given moment to bother your brother as a constant threat.

It’s not until your prepping dinner with Seokmin that the project is brought up again.

“There’s leftover Chow Mein Mingyu made yesterday, shove that in too.” He yawns as he pushes the box over.

You can only stare at the box in mild agitation, contemplating if you should simply chuck it into the garbage chute. Unfortunately, by experience, you knew Mingyu made really good Chow Mein, so you begrudgingly slide the opened box into the microwave to heat up, deciding you’d push Seok to eat it before you have a chance to take a bite.

It’s silent while you eat, Seokmin still in a daze from his earlier nap, shoving spoonfuls of noodles in between bites of pizza. It’s not until your halfway through eating before he jolts up slightly like he’d just remembered something.

“Did you hear about that volunteering thing from the photography department? They want models for some project.”

“Oh, yeah.” You pause, thinking back to what Nayeon had proposed. “Are you gonna sign up?”

“No, but you should.”

“I don’t know, I still have a lot of prep for finals.”

“You get extra credit if it helps,” he notes.

That was news to you. There’s a frown on your face as you deny, “No, you don’t.”

“They’re doing it ‘cause they weren’t getting the response they wanted. I found out just now too, they’re gonna put it up on the bulletin tomorrow. Might wanna decide before then.”

There were no questions asked after the realization, blue light of the laptop casting your face aglow in the darkened room as you hit the big blue Confirm button on the website. Skimming through the subsequent email, you find you won’t be needed till next week, the date and time making it’s way to your calendar.

Now, if you had known what the next week truly held for you, there was no doubt you’d be sending in a cancellation email at first chance.

But you didn’t know. So you simply went to bed, falling asleep to the vague idea of searching for modeling tips on youtube during the coming weekend, entertaining the mild possibility that this might be the thing that puts you at peace at last.

The photography classes are held in regular lecture rooms, as you find out as you file into the sparingly filled hall at the date your calendar has graciously alerted you for. There was an image of a larger, more spacious area for a discipline pertaining to the arts, yet to be fair, the idea of having to create this form of art within a four walled containment did seem a little counter productive.

Nonetheless, you find yourself seated in a spare chair, waiting for the clock to hit nine on a Saturday morning for the shuffling professor at the front of the room to begin. Your eyes make passovers across the gradually filling room, searching for a semblance of Seuncheol’s bright blond hair to wave him over. There’s no sign of him five minutes before the minute hit twelve, and you’re thinking about slipping to the restroom before it can to kill the remaining time.

There’s another person filing into the room as you rise from your chair, and you pause in attempt to recognize Cheol in the grey zip up.

Except you don’t find Seungcheol, not at all.

Mingyu is walking into the classroom, gaze sweeping across the hall as he seats himself in the front bottom row, head thrown back as he sifts through his perfect hair with his fingers.

You aren't sure why your brows furrowed like they did, or why you planted your butt back onto the chair with the force that you did; especially when all you wanted to do was book it out of the room in full velocity.

He was taking this class. Of course you knew that, especially when it was all he would yap about at any point he graced your presence.

You can feel your purpose in the room fade to nothing as you register him as a unit. You want to blame someone, but you know it’s all you fault. You knew he’d be here; if your mind had only thought fit to remind you at any point in the past week.

In regular Mingyu fashion, if he’d seen you, he does nothing to show it as you find him unraveling a loose thread off of his jacket. You keep your eyes on him, remaining mortified at your blatant disregard to the information that Mingyu was also in this class. Come to think of it, it was probably Mingyu who told Seokmin about the added credit in the first place. You want to kick yourself for not questioning your brother’s apparent magical source of information.

There’s nothing that can be done as you feel Seungcheol finally slip into the seat next to you just as the professor in the front of the room begins to speak. You’re not in the right headspace to make conversation, so you're grateful for the small acknowledgment as the professor begins to drone.

“Each student has been given a theme to work with, they’re all different and given to the people whom I saw fit for the job. You’ll be receiving your packets with your theme today, so remember to pick them up from the front desk before you leave,” she begins.

“As for your models,” she switches to the next slide over to reveal a spreadsheet full of names. “Their names will be right next to yours, the photography students.”

The entire room lurches forward as a unit, eyes squinted and whispers exchanged as they search for their partners in the sea of names. Seungcheol is zooming in on the picture he took with his phone, eyes zooming over to find his name.

“Hey, I found yours!” he announces, moving the phone over to you.

He’s zoomed into your full name on the screen, and your moving the picture aside to see the name across from it. Except, you find you wish you hadn’t.

—Kim, Mingyu.

If you needed more confirmation that the universe was simply against you, you’d gotten the message as you prayed the letters would morph into something else before your very eyes.

You seem to have been staring at the name for too long, because Seungcheol snatches his phone back from your grip to see for himself after you refused to answer his questions of what the name next to yours was.

“Oh, it’s Mingyu! That’s easy, you're basically related.”

You wanted to slap him.

Before you can stop him, he’s yelling the boy’s name across the room amidst the growing chatter, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face. “Mingyu! I found your model, she’s right here!

You wanted to squeeze Seungcheol’s neck till his head popped off.

Mingyu turns around at the call, registering his friend’s words despite the growing noise. He registers you and you watch as he turns his head back at the projection, like he was confirming it was true.

Of course he’s as petrified as you are, if not more. But the embarrassment of his apparent disbelief made its hot way into your stomach and chest nonetheless, your breakfast threatening to make its way back up.

By the time the professor’s done with her bit and the room has begun to file out, you’ve found yourself standing outside the lecture hall in uncomfortable movement, shifting your weight between both feet and fiddling with the straps of your bag. Every passing face sends a jolt though your stomach as you calculate how jarring it would be if you left right this second without seeing him.

You're counting his steps inside your head, how he’d shuffle for his name on the packet he’s meant to receive, counting in any conversation he’d start with a friend or with the professor. A thought occurs to you, and you wonder if he was searching for you inside. You’re weighing between walking inside and leaving altogether when he makes the decision for you, walking out of the room, booklet in hand.

There goes the toast blaring its way back up your esophagus.

“Hey,” he says unceremoniously.

You respond with an unreasonably meek “Hi.”

“Seok didn’t tell me you signed up for this.” He points casually.

Well, Seok doesn’t need to tell you everything.

“Oh, I told him while he was like half asleep, pretty sure he thought he dreamt it.”

Mingyu snorts a little at that, a slight smile appearing on his face as he pictures a sleepy Seokmin.

“I can imagine,” he says, before he’s brought back to the matter at hand by you.

You clear your throat before you begin to talk, expression remaining neutral. “Do we need to get started right away?”

“Oh.” He seems a little taken aback at your forwardness. Like he didn’t know why you didn’t want to make small talk with him. “Uh, I don’t even know what theme I have yet. I’ll read over the packet and plan a couple things out before you have to come in.”

“That’s great.” You hold on the straps of your tote. “Text me when you need me.”

With that, you had spun on your heel and stalked away, not leaving room for him to retort with anything at all. You don’t look back.

Nayeon can do nothing but gape as she watches you hold back frustrated tears, picking apart the grass under you as you curse the heavens for your horrible fate. She’s absorbing the situation as you wallow, finding the words to say.

“Fuck, this is my fault,” she breathes out.

“No!” You gasp out, furiously wiping away the irritating tears. “It’s not. I just forgot, it’s my own fault. You were right for trying to get me to do it, it just…”

“You can’t ask to change partners?” she asks.

“I can’t!” You wail, “I’m supposed to not care, how is this me not caring?”

It was ridiculous. Truly. You were sobbing like a child over this, screaming about wanting to not care. But you did care. Too much. Nayeon can do little but hold you as you sniffle into her lap, feeling sick to your stomach at your own childish behaviour.

“Why am I crying about this, this is stupid.”

“You’re stressed, hon, that’s it. You’ve got a lot going on and this just multiplied it.” She’s running a soothing hand over your back. “Just let it out, you need it.”

You emerge from your hunched position to sit up straight, sniffling a little less as you calm down. “Should I withdraw from the project?”

“I mean, if you really want to,” she says softly.

“But?” You sense her apprehension.

“But, maybe you should give it a go.”

You can only blink at her with wet lashes.

“Think of it this way. You need to… build resistance, keep yourself around him regardless. There’s bound to come a point where you start to feel…nothing.”

“Are you trying to work exposure therapy on me?”

“Maybe? If that’s what it means. If you take yourself out of the project, it shows that you care. You need to pretend to not care before you can stop feeling the real thing.”

There’s a pause as you attempt to find reason in her words.

“Listen, I may be talking out of my ass, and if you do end up doing it, it’s gonna be hard – like a lot, but–”

“No. You’re making sense.”

“I am?” She blinks, taken aback at the realisation that you may be listening to her. You nod quietly, “You’re right, I can’t keep running away.”

“So, you’re gonna do it?” She confirms with wide eyes.

Once again, you find it within yourself to nod.

Yeah. You were gonna do it.

Being in Mingyu’s presence and feeling nothing may be the goal, but you realise quickly it’s going to take you a while to restrain the trailing eyes that follow him wherever he goes. Nayeon had warned you, but you realise you may be slightly ill-prepared.

The theme is light. Vague to you but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He isn’t looking at you as he talks, eyes darting between the laptop screen and the plethora of papers he’s scattered on the coffee table. “I don’t really have a colour preference for this one but a a deeper blue or a purple would fit pretty well with the sunlight on here.”

You can only nod along in mild understanding, most of your effort exerted on trying to keep your eyes on the screen where he’s pulling up a color wheel. “I probably have something.”

“Do you still have that button up Seok bought you? The one with the stripes?”

You recall the deep blue shirt your brother had gotten you for your first in class presentation, picturing it hung still in your closet. “Uh, yeah I do. I’ll wear it.”

“Bring options, whatever fits the colours. No turtlenecks or crewnecks though…” Mingyu continues to talk, taking notes for you in the process. Your mind, however, is somewhere else.

You hate how your mind takes you to a murkier place, one where the thought of him retaining memory of your closet pieces unprovoked has your neck tingling and your cheeks lifting. Trying to snap out of it before he notices your dazed expression, you pretend to flip through the couple papers in front of you, noting nothing.

“Other than that–” he’s cut off by his phone ringing on the table. Both your gazes dart to the caller ID, and you immediately wish you hadn’t as you register the pink heart on the end. Jia was calling.

He barely spares you a glance as he excuses himself in a mumble, something about being back in a second. You watch him leave through the cafe altogether, emerging on the other end of the glass walls in your direct vision. For the nth time that day, you find it impossible to tear your eyes away from his positively elated face, teeth out on display as talks to his girlfriend. You wonder what they’re talking about, if her face is beaming like his own, wherever she is.

You zone out as you wonder what it’d be like to be the receiving end of an expression like that. To have something within you to be worth his smile, his mumbled pardons and his uninterrupted space. There’s a part of you that wonders if its greed – you’ve gotten to see him nearly everyday for the past decade, perhaps you’ve run your tickets dry.

You realise quickly that Mingyu is no longer in your line of sight as you feel a ruffle on the chair as he sits back on his seat.

“I think we can wrap up here, let me take the first couple shots before I can see where to go with it afterwards.”

You sense his eager want to leave, and you cannot help but beat him to it for your own sake.

“Alright. I’ll see you friday then.” SLiding out of your seat, you make a halfhearted attempt at shuffling his papers in a neater pile, throwing him a half smile before grabbing your bag.

He isn’t watching you leave, you know that. Yet you find yourself refusing to slow down or look back till you round the corner, letting your shoulders finally slump and your pace to come to a temporary halt. It takes you another beat before you begin walking again, breathing in slowly as you navigate your way through the moderately crowded sidewalk. Nearly ramming into a fire hydrant, you shake off the seize that remains in your body, picking up the pace hoping it’d promote less thoughts.

It works, as you unlock your front door, finally shaking off the autopilot. Shifting to the kitchen is easy, rummaging the cabinets for your hidden stash of moonpies with the intention to devour the family box whole. You’re contemplating texting Seokmin to bring you actual food as you make your way to your bedroom, wanting nothing more than to let your covers absorb all the feelings that make you human.

You find it unfortunate as you catch sight of yourself in the full length mirror and the outfit you’d put together before you had left. Your mind goes back to pandemonium as you take in the details, wondering why on earth you’d put in so much effort for a conversation that lasted less than an hour. You tear your eyes away before you begin to truly hate yourself, ripping your jewelry off as you make a beeline to wash your face clean of the makeup you’d put on.

It becomes increasingly difficult to look at yourself even in the bathroom mirror, moisturizer going on more aggressively than what’s good for you. You feel a sting in the back of your eyes and owe it to the face wash.

It’s easier once you’re in bed, your laptop at the ready, and a text on its way as you bug your brother to bring you your favorite burger and milkshake combo. You put your immediate faith in your moonpies for now as you rip the first one open, letting the sweetness bring you a deluded happiness.

“His name hurts.” Your voice comes out echoey, the sound reverberating in the cavern of your chest. The shot on the table is inviting, but you can’t help but feel nauseous at the thought of downing it. Your fizzled out sprite is being good to you, so you let it.

“Hearing you talk about him hurts,” Mika slurs, slumping down onto the beanbag she’s dragged onto the scene, joining you and Nayeon next to the couch.

Letting out a loud sigh that you doubt she can hear over the bass booming across the house, you settle to rest your head back on the couch backrest, staring into the ceiling. “Imagine what it’s doing to me then.”

“I don’t need to.” You can hear the exasperation in her voice.

“Oh, hey, Hao!” Nayeon drags next to you and you lift your head up to see Mika’s boyfriend join her on the already tiny beanbag. He huffs out a hey between a slight smile, slumping almost entirely on his girlfriend. She pats his hair in silent regard.

“I read this research paper about how they can delete the memories out of your brain squiggles,” Nayeon pops in.

“Since when do you read academic material for interest?” Minghao mumbles, fingers busy playing with Mika’s hair.

The pair continue to bicker as your eyes trail across the moderately packed house, the party looking more lowbeat than any other Seungcheol extravaganzas. Not that you were complaining, but when you spot a certain someone, it’s hard not to.

Mingyu files into the kitchen with your brother in tow, beaming face evident over the island as he pours himself what looks like orange juice. Your mood is instantly soured.

“What study was that again?” You poke at Nayeon, the image of the man you wished for gone burned into your forebrain. She glances over to the open kitchen and realises what you’re talking about, coming around with a face of her own.

“That one’s gonna be a hard one to scrub out. But it’s okay, even the toughest stains succumb to bleach that’s strong enough,” she sighs. You’re barely listening to her analogy, not when he’s standing right there rendering it impossible for you to look anywhere else.

“You sound like a commercial.” You can almost hear the crinkle in Mika’s nose as she comments, and you can’t help but breathe out a laugh.

The rest continue with their conversation as you remain quiet for most of the exchange, eyes filling your heart heavy with the way they remain glued to the figure far out into the kitchen. It was less about the fact that you just wanted to look at him and more of how it was forcing you to think about your predicament; something that was weighing you down yet something you couldn’t help.

You can’t be entirely sure how long you managed to stare without getting caught, but when Mika calls your name out harsher than expected, you snap around to divert your attention.

“Huh?”

“Sixth time’s the charm, huh? Get it together, he’s not gonna look at you,” she huffs as she slumps back onto the beanbag, alone this time as you note that Minghao is gone.

It takes you a moment to gather what she had said, mouth gaping open and close as you try to conspire a proper response. “I wasn’t trying–”

“No. Save it. It was my fault for thinking I could sit here without having to sit through more of your Mingyu bullshit.” She’s shuffling out of her bean bag with mediocre difficulty, exasperation on her face as she trudges away to sit with her boyfriend and his friends on the seats on the middle of the floor.

The air seems to have knocked out of your chest as you find the capacity to process what just happened. Seemingly forgotten Nayeon was also here, you note the hand she places on your elbow as a sober attempt to get you to look at her.

The rest of the night passes in a nauseous blur, none that you could really make sense of. You bid Nayeon goodbye as you assured her you’d go home with your brother, waving goodbye to blurred taxi lights as she leaves you alone in front of a dwindling house.

The breath you let out is shaky as your feet remain planted on the concrete, the remnants of tonight passing over you as they came. Deciding you owed it to yourself, you let the tears well up in your eyes. As tired as you were of crying over what was essentially the same thing over and over again, you let yourself tire yourself out once more.

The party was over, and you knew that because you were walking home alone, hoping Nayeon would forgive you for lying to her. But you couldn’t possibly explain the tear stains on your cheeks to your brother, not when he knew nothing. It was better that way; you refuse to be the person that potentially ruins a friendship that’s lasted longer than any other.

You try to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you trudge slowly in the dark, not bothering to wipe your tears. Your stomping grows louder the more you grow frustrated with your thoughts, and it proves not too well for you. There’s a pair of headlights throwing light onto the oncoming street, illuminating you in the process. You want to kick yourself as the realisation settles in, praying the car would simply pass you. Considering the late hour and the fact that you were alone is hitting you at the worst time, wondering if you could pretend to make a call as you walked.

It’s a black sedan that rolls up next to you, slower than what’s considered a normal speed on an empty street. It honks and you nearly halt, owing to the shake that passes through your knees. It honks again, and you can’t help but look to the side to find a window rolled down.

Mingyu sits on the driver’s seat, leaning over to the empty passenger side to grab your attention.

“The Uber’s free! So is the driver,” he yells out the window. “Hop in.”

“I’m alright. I kinda wanna walk.” You shift your weight between your feet, the distance adding an awkward feel.

“Wasn’t asking. It’s the middle of the night, I’m not letting you walk alone.” As he speaks, another car passes from behind him, slowing down. You note the look the other driver is giving you through the window, and it’s enough to convince you to step into Mingyu’s car.

“I think we’re way past the point of formalities, don’t know why you hesitated.” He chuckles as he motions for you to click on your seatbelt. You fumble with it for a moment, his own fingers coming to the rescue to latch it on. You retract your fingers before they can brush with his own any further.

Settling into your seat, you choose to look forward as he picks up speed. “Uhm, just wanted to walk, it was nice outside.”

“Take someone with you next time, it’s nearly midnight,” he warns.

There’s a twinge of annoyance that emerges in the back of your mind for some reason, despite knowing full well that he was right. You just didn’t want to hear it from him.

It’s silent for a bit as the radio plays an uncharacteristically upbeat tune, prompting you to wonder if it was just you who felt the atmosphere pressing in on your chest.

“Did you not bring your car today?” he asks out of the blue, eyes remaining on the road as you glance up at him. One look at his side profile and you’re turning your gaze away.

“No, it’s at the workshop. I came with Nayeon.”

“Why didn’t you leave with her?”

“I…” You pause. “I told her I was gonna go with Seok.”

“Hm. That didn’t happen.”

“It’s like I said,” you mumble.

He hums again in response, dropping the subject.

“Listen, are you…are you okay?” he starts again and it has you looking back up at him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You try to hide the bitterness in your tone but it proves difficult.

“I couldn’t help but overhear but I was sitting right there. Hao was talking to Mika about something she’d said to you, about…” He trails off. “I mean, you looked a little upset, I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”

You bit your tongue. Hard.

He knew you were staring at him, he knew you weren’t over him. He knew you were still standing on the same square confinement from months ago. Never changed.

“I’m fine,” you reply, snappier than you had intended.

“Are you sure? I felt like I should’ve said something but Nayeon was right there so I thought…” He sounds unsure and when you see him look at you, with eyes filled with an emotion that makes you nearly gag, you almost lose it. You did not want him to pity you. Nor care for you; especially when it came from a place that nullifies your feelings. You didn’t want him to care for you for the sole reason that you were his best friend’s sister.

“Mingyu, I think it’s best if you drop it.”

“Of course. But it might help if you wanna, you know, feel your feelings.”

Fuck no, you weren’t crying in front of him. Not when you're sure he’s noticed the tear stains on your makeup.

“Mingyu, I said drop it. I don’t need your help, I don’t need to feel anything, I need you stop feeling like you’re obligated to care about me because you’re not.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them, irritation laced in every snap and dent.

He says your name in an attempt to smooth you over. It only lands him in more trouble.

“No, listen, I get it. You’re uncomfortable about everything but you feel like you need to check up on me at the same time, and I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about that. What happened, happened, and it’s my job to pick up the pieces because it’s my fault. You don’t need to meddle.” You’re breathing hard as you finish, finally settling back in your seat.

He’s already pulling up to your building, heat still penetrating the silence. You unbuckle your seatbelt, mumbling a thanks for the ride.

“Seok’s staying at Cheol’s tonight,” he calls out as you shuffle out the door. “Remember to lock the door.”

You stand sheepishly holding the open door as you nod quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the shoot.”

Middle school was harder than you thought.

Not that you expected it to be easy, but you remained hopeful nonetheless. Fifth grade came plowing for you with an unexpected vigor, which you were feeling especially as you gripped your red marked paper with a vice grip.

It was Mingyu who had found you on the kitchen island sniffling, waiting for your mother to come home and ask you for your dreaded test results.

You drop your head in shame (even more so) when he asks you the inevitable question of “what’s wrong?” Your voice comes out as a mumble. “I failed my first test.”

He blinks as he stops in front of the fridge, opening it to emerge with a carton of chocolate milk and two monsters. He slides the carton over to you as he takes a seat on the other chair.

“Well, what did you get?” he asks as he pops his can open, ears studded black from the piercings he’d gotten done.

You mumble out the number in incoherence that has him hunching down to hear you.

“What?”

“A fifteen!” you finally huff out in exasperation.

“Hm. Better than me I think I got a two at some point. Don’t worry about it, it's not the end of the world.” He says. “D’you want me to turn that into a seventy five?”

You look up confused. “How?”

“You’ll see. Get me your test. And a red marker.”

On that day, Mingyu aided you in your first con, pulling lines to turn the one into a seven right before your eyes.

“There. Now don’t let her look at it too hard or check your answers. And only give it to her if she asks for it.”

He had left back to your brother’s room with the spare can of monster, leaving you to stash your test into your bag and move to seat yourself in a more natural position. You’d gotten away with it as your mother pats you on the back for your first attempt at a fifth grade paper, leaving you with a lesson to work harder, and a memory that stayed with you for years.

The following day is met with a pit of guilt sitting in your stomach before you could even recall the events of last night.

There’s little that you can do to prep as you’re supposed to change at the studio anyway, pushing the remnants of your makeup products into a pouch as a second thought. Your hair seemed fine, deciding you’d see to it if it needed changing when you got there.

You push your departure as far as you could, finding more things to do and more chores to finish before you were due to leave. It takes you a final look at the time before you finally decide to trudge to the door with your things. You cross paths with Seokmin who’s only just coming home, looking worse for wear. He barely acknowledges you as he makes a beeline for his bedroom, disappearing.

He’s probably fine.

By the time you get to the studio Mingyu is already in the middle of setting up, immersed in the switches behind giant studio lights. It’s dark, save for the one studio light thats already on, casting a light on the white backdrop, a single stool sits at the front. Looking around, the place casts an eerie atmosphere, the unattended stations and dark back rooms casting a shiver down your spine despite the Afternoon light outside. Perhaps you were acclimated to the hustle and bustle in behind the scene videos of photoshoots, yet here it was just you and Mingyu.

He doesn’t notice you come in right away, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to recast your words in your head, waiting to be uttered as soon as you say your hellos.

“Oh, hey,” he says normally.

“Hope I’m not too late.”

“No, you’re fine, I’m nearly done setting up,” he says, as he switches the second studio light on, doubling the glow in the room.

“Oh, okay.” Your voice comes out as an uncharacteristic whisper. “Uh, listen, Mingyu, I just wanted to apologize about last night. You were only asking and I was being too harsh.”

He picks up his back from his bent position to look at you, hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, no, don’t say that, It’s me who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have pried when you said you didn’t wanna talk about it. I’m sorry, really.”

You're opening your mouth to rebut, nails clashing onto each other as your fidgeting gets worse, but you decide to end it. “We’re both sorry, let’s just end this here.”

Both of you have slightly uncomfortable smiles on your faces as Mingyu continues to fidget with his cables and equipment. It went smoother than you’d thought, silently thanking him for keeping it from getting awkward – more awkward than necessary anyway.

“These ones are gonna be basic studies, establishing the usual studio lights in the beginning before we move to the more experimental shots.” He drags his own stool forward to sit directly across from you in front of the plain white backdrop. “Did you bring another black top?”

“I did, do you want me to change?”

“Not yet.” He positions the camera higher, looking like he’s ready. “Okay, relax your body. Shoulders back, chin down. Okay, now a smile, really small, barely there.”

He snaps his first photo and you nearly knock yourself backwards on the stool, lights going off at the shot damn near blinding you.

“You good?”

“I thought the flash was just gonna be your camera.” You frown, coming round.

“Nah, you’ll get used to it. Okay, back in position.”

He takes a couple more pictures, urging you to make miniscule changes to your poses, whatever feels good. You find yourself loosening up, your posture aiding you instead of working against you. “Try putting your hands on the stool, yeah like that, lean forward. Chin up a little more.”

The directions continue from behind the camera as he continues to flash away, and you do your utmost to not let the lights disorient you too much. He lets you take a break when you make a comment about the pure thermal energy in the room, your face no doubt shiny and red from the lights. You’re done after you take a couple more pictures after an outfit change, rendering you free to leave within the hour.

“I think you’re done,” he announces, stretching as he leaves his own stool. “I’ll send you deets for tomorrow, we’ll probably get a lot more done.”

“Oh, cool.”

Gathering your stuff doesn’t take you as you go up to tell him you’re about to leave. You find him fiddling with cables, packing everything up before leaving himself. You make a split second decision, dropping your bag before announcing yourself.

“Let me help.”

“Huh? Oh no, it’s fine. I just need to shove them in storage.”

“That’s alright, I’ll help. What d’you want me to do?”

“Uh, Maybe unplug all the ports, and um, turn the lights on too, I guess. It’s gonna get dark if you don’t.”

Cleaning up was easier when those god awful studio lights weren’t overheating the entire hall, collecting cables and putting equipment back into their places. It was over before you knew it.

“Is your car back from the workshop?” Mingyu yells from inside one of the side rooms collecting his stuff.

“Not yet, I’m getting it back on the 15th. Ordered a cab.”

“You’re going home from here, right?” He emerges from the room, arms in the middle of slipping into his jacket. “I’ll drive you.”

“No, it’s fine I have to meet Nayeon at uni and–”

“Even better, I was going there too. Come on, I just need to kill the lights.”

You’re out of saviours, evident as you slide into his car, yet again with no choice. It’s meant to be a short drive, considering the studio is barely ten minutes away from where you need to be, yet it feels like an impromptu road trip with the way the roads seem to stretch.

It’s significantly less awkward than last night, perhaps owed to him not being as inclined to make conversation, unlike last night.

By the time he’s pulling up, you already have your bag in hand, a thank you frozen on your tongue as you register who it is that’s standing outside the library. You groan internally as you see Nayeon waiting for you, immersed in something on her phone. Praying she stays occupied, you rush your, “thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow,” as you hope she doesn’t see you slip out of the familiar car.

She does notice. Looking up at the sound of yout door opening, she catches clear sight of you stepping out of the car, Mingyu in the driver’s seat. You can tell she’s subdued her reaction, but the eyebrows gives her away as they shoot up at the sight. Trudging up to her is a nightmare and a half, dreading the questions she’s going to ask as you hear Mingyu rev away.

“Are my eyes deceiving me?” she breathes out, eyes wide, mouth open in jest.

“Quit it, I have work to get done.” You choose to lead her straight into the library where you know she won’t be able to ask you any more probing questions.

That doesn’t seem to sedate her though as she continues to whisper a million questions, watching you pull your stuff out.

“I had a shoot with him today, he offered to drop me off and I couldn’t say no!”

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims a little too loud, owing a couple nasty surrounding looks her way, including yours. She continues quieter, pulling your laptop away from you so you’d pay more attention to her. “How’d it go? Did you pose all sexy for him, did he look nervous?”

“I did not pose sexy, I posed normally, because I have a conscience,” you snap, yanking your laptop back from her grip.

She’s smiling like an idiot, unaffected by your annoyance. “Is he gonna drop you off after every shoot? Oh my god! Don’t you dare get your car from the garage, give it to Seokmin, or, or, tell them to keep it!”

“Nayeon, shush!” It’s your turn to whisper shout at her gradually increasing volume, pushing her to quit leaning over the desks.

“Okay, okay.” She sobers up.

“I’m supposed to be getting over him, why are you so happy about this? Indifference, remember? It was you who brought it up.”

“Yes, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t look, I don’t know, like, you know!”

Once she’s a little less giddy, you finally tell her about last night – leaving out the bit where he droppped you home for the sake of the library and its inhabitants.

“I mean, I know we aplogised and everything, but I felt a little less… on fire around him. Other than those stupid studio lights, those were turning the place into a sauna. But I could meet his eyes without hyperventilating,” you explain, eyes downcast as you speak.

“I imagine his eyes were covered with that camera anyway, but progress, I guess,” Nayeon comments.

“Maybe I needed to get mad at him to feel better, I don’t know. But it feels like I’m making progress for the first time.”

“I told you this would be good for you, give it a couple more weeks and it’ll be like Mingyu never happened.”

It takes a conscious attempt to not scoff. Like Mingyu never happened to your heart. That’s a heart you can’t recognise.

The first time Seokmin had brought girls over was a day you couldn’t forget, no matter how hard you tried.

You were padding down to the kitchen, still bleary eyed and pyjama clad from your nap, making a beeline for the fridge to get a glass of water. Your trip is cut short, however, when you realised the living room was not as empty as you expected. It’s a crowd (to your eleven year old self, anyway) of people your brother’s age. You catch a couple familiar faces, friends of your brother who visited often, Mingyu is part of the lumps on the couch with them.

What stumped you, however, were the girls that were seated in between, eyes equally trained on you as everyone else in the room.

“Oh, who’s this Seok?” one of the girls asked.

“My little sister. D’you wanna say hi?” he asked you, neck craned to look at you.

“Uh. Hi,” you whisper, gulping.

There’s a chorus of hi’s that came bounding at you. You could feel the embarrassment creep up your entire body, feeling conscious for the first time in your life. They were staring at you. They were smiling, but you hated it.

You weren’t thinking as you turned around to sprint back upstairs, not missing the tinkle of laughs coming from the living room.

“Oh, she’s cute,” you had heard. That had you nearly starting to cry.

You’d be lying if you said your little crush on Mingyu hadn’t started blossoming for a while at that point. Being younger meant you were constantly fighting to be seen, even more so when you’d do anything for Mingyu to look at you. Hogging your brother’s bean bag until you were kicked out, putting sparkly clips in your hair before you went to the kitchen, laughing especially loud when you knew he could hear.

And yet, despite everything, for the very first time, you hated that Mingyu was looking at you, watching you idle and awkward while he sat next to a bunch of prettier, older girls.

That night was of many firsts, including the first time you had ever cried over Mingyu.

Mingyu claimed this was the last shoot, that he’d be done after this final set of shots.

You’re having a hard time though, because he’s decided his studio for the day was gonna be at the top of a mountain at the asscrack of dawn.

“We have fifteen minutes,” he announces.

“To live?” You heave, crouching on the gravel to give your body a break.

“Till sunrise,” he interjects, reversing to get to your crouched figure. You feel him grab hold of the straps of your bag, swinging it over his own shoulder. “Come on, just a little more.”

“You’ve been saying that for an hour.” You groan, picking yourself up off the path to resume your trudging. Mingyu stays next to you this time.

“Did you pack your entire house in here, the fuck is this so heavy for,” he grunts.

“You're the one asking for a bajillion outfit changes, I’m just doing what you asked.”

“One change of clothes and a compact doesn’t weigh this much, are you disposing a body up here?”

“Might be yours if I don't see that damn railing in a minute.”

“I think you're hungry,” he huffs out.

“I think I need to never agree to do this again.”

“Salavation!” he yelps as he sees a vending machine in the distance, quite literally glowing (with its fluorescent lights).

“I don’t need a water bottle, Mingyu, I need to lie down.” Your voice grows more gruff by the minute, legs nearly giving away.

“No, the vending machine means…” He bounds up the last couple leaps to the glowing box with a burst of motivation. The slope turns flat at the horizon. “We’re here.”

Nearly falling to your knees at the sight of the long awaited arrival point, you drop to a nearby bench and lay flat on the stiff wood.

“How long till I need to look presentable? Because if it’s anything under thirty minutes, I’m tapping out.” You declare.

“I can give you five minutes, take it or leave it.” He barely sits down as he speaks while already unzipping his camera bag. The thought of lifting your arms is excruciating, so you rest your tongue and bite back a whine.

By the time you do find it within yourself to swing your legs back over the bench, the sky is shifting to a smoky navy, urging you to hurry up as you dry your sweat. You’re cringing as you press powder on your unclean face, but power through the final touches as you stretch while standing up straight.

The first rays of sunlight are just coming through as Mingyu calibrates his lenses, trying to figure out the best shots in the limited time frame you have. You listen to him as he directs you where he wants you, contorting your face into something akin to faux serene. It’s near impossible when the frown has molded itself into your face after what you’ve put your body through today.

“Think happy thoughts.” Mingyu calls out from behind his camera.

“Oh, I’m thinking real happy thoughts. Like the ice cold shower I’m about to take when I get home. My clean bed that’s gonna be nice to me when I lay in it. The leftover pasta in the fridge. My moonpies.”

He has to bring his face away from the camera to throw his head back in a breathy laugh, smile as wide as it could go. It does things to you, but you ignore it.

The summit isn’t entirely empty, noting a few people leaning against the railings, rendering it mostly quiet. All the more jarring becomes Mingyu’s phone as it blares into the silence, causing the both of you to jump at the sudden sound.

He checks the caller ID only to silence it and slip it back into his pocket.

You don’t get to ask who it was calling him so early in the morning, but get your answer when he immediately announces he’s done with his shots. The sun is higher up at this point, casting a more even orange glow across all the eye could see.

You suppose he’s in a hurry to get home, seeing as he has someone waiting on him. “Should we leave then?”

He swings the camera strap around his neck, forearms on the railing as he admires the view. “Give it a couple more minutes, I need to mentally prepare myself for the next hour.”

It’s hard for you to deny that, so you let yourself place your head into your crossed arms over the railing, staring into the glow. It’s silent for a while as the rays hit your face, warming you more than you’d like. You don’t make any effort to move though, deciding to appreciate the view while it was here, doubting you’d ever make the trek up here again. Not willingly, at least.

There’s a camera shutter that goes off next to you and you find Mingyu fidgeting with his camera as he tries to begin packing it up. You would help, but you’ve found yourself refraining from touching anything when it comes to his actual camera setup, opting to watch as he disassembles his lenses and pushes buttons to power off.

By the time you're trudging down the path you’d come up from, it’s bright and sunny, rendering it warmer than before. Going down, however, is proving easier as you appreciate the reduced strain in your calves, letting the recent conversation take you to a smoother route.

“When d’you think your gonna be done editing?” You ask at some point, the thought occurring to you that you’d only seen a couple pictures that he’d taken so far, oweing to his disapproval showing you all the raws before editing.

“Kinda have to get them edited and annotated by the due date, so probably by the end of the month.”

“D’you think I could get the ones you edit?”

“Why? D’you wanna kickstart a portfolio?” he muses.

“I think it’s normal to ask for my pictures you took of me,” you grunt.

He laughs it off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll send them over.”

Mingyu doesn’t drop you off home this time, both of you slipping into your own cars at the base of the hiking trail, bidding your goodbyes. You’d gotten an earful from Nayeon for getting your car back from the garage so quickly, and while sitting in a car with him wasn’t so bad anymore, you choose to retain that distance regardless. This was work, You’re doing this because you have to, and the stupid extra credit that roped you into this in the first place.

Alas, as you start your engine, eyes cast towards Mingyu’s number plate right up front, you can’t help but feel…sad… remembering this was your last shoot. As emotionally vexing the experience was, you had grown to look forward to his discreet location pins and outfit plans, growing more comfortable with him by the meeting.

It almost felt like you and Mingyu were friends.

Your brother’s graduation was an ordeal to say the least. Your parents flying in was a plus, getting to see them at least once for the summer, even if it was just for the day.

The night is wrapped up fairly quickly, a big dinner with yours and Mingyu’s family to congratulate the freed graduates from their academic shackles. It dials back when Mingyu announces he’s gonna take a summer course for now to keep himself busy, wanting to wait a little before job hunting. Seokmin seems to express the same, wanting some time off for himself before entering the corporate world.

It’s when you get home and your brother is sending you all the pictures of today that you note one that stands out. It was of you and Mingyu, an inevitable one as your parents took turns to make sure everybody got solo shots with everyone.

You’d applaud the enthusiasm, but it was particularly unfortunate for you when the camera was thrust into your hands as Mingyu and Jia posed for nearly fifty pictures. You wouldn’t mind usually, but it just felt like a little too much in the moment.

Despite everything, you find yourself clicking on the Save button on the picture where you’re smiling a little too wide right next to him, for the sake of yourself.

Summer break rolls around with no more hiccups, if you’d count finals as anything other than strenuous. You were happy, with a new job to keep you company for the next three months as you lament not being able to go home.

Getting the job at the bookstore was easy, your shifts were reasonable and it didn’t pay half bad. You would’ve guessed they were desperate for a hire, but you appreciate the activity regardless. It’s not really hard work, you find out quickly. Manning the desk, shelving deposits and restocking supplies. Monotonous tasks yet ones that you find yourself slipping into quite easily.

After the last shoot at the mountain, it was basically radio silence from Mingyu. Not being able to catch him the rare chance he stopped by the house, both of you swamped with the end of semester throw up. You doubt he’d noticed, and you despair at the fact that you did, even if it was just a little.

“Oh, great, you’re here!” The owner greets you as you walk into the store, all smiles. She was a sweet lady, nicer than any other boss you’d ever had. “Was just waiting for you so I could leave, my daughter has a play she’s putting on today!”

“Oh, sorry to keep you!” You rush to set your bag down as she picks up her own things, coming around from the table to take her leave. “Hope the recital goes well, tell her I said good luck.”

“Will do.” She smiles before adding, “Oh and, somebody called an hour ago asking about our book bundles, he said he’d come in to check but he hasn’t yet. Thought I’d let you know in case he asks about the phone call.”

“Got it,” you confirm, waving as she walks out the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Breathing out a sigh, you find yourself relatively free this afternoon, a slow weekday as you pick your current read out of your bag to get comfortable for the long shift. You’re nearly through the halfway point when you hear the first jingle of the day, the bells attached to the door making their familiar chime

“Good afternoon!” You look up to greet the customer, dog earring your book before standing up from your seat.

The person who’d walked in wasn’t just any customer, you soon realise as you recognise the familiar shag of hair. Mingyu was here.

“Oh.” You can’t help but let it out when you register him, his own eyebrows shooting up at the sight of you behind the counter. Your next greeting comes out a little dumbly. “Hi.”

“Hey. What’re you doing here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he takes you in.

“Um,” you glance at your obvious name tag. “I work here.”

“Oh, right, Seok mentioned you started working at a bookstore.” He throws his head back at the memory. “Hey, was it you over the phone earlier today? Didn’t sound like it.”

“Oh no, that was my boss, my shift started like an hour ago.” You confirm.

“Ah, I see.”

The silence is awkward for about five seconds before you jump into action. “You asked about a bundle over the phone?”

“Right, um,” he pauses to fish his phone out his pocket, scrolling for something. “It’s Jia’s birthday coming up, and there’s this book series she’s been wanting. Here.”

You need to remind yourself to pat yourself on the back for not shaking as you received his phone, mind remaining in the moment. “Oh yeah, we have those. Let me grab ‘em for you.”

He follows you through the columns of shelves as you navigate to find what he was looking for, stopping in front of the shelves. “There’s three of these, I can put them in a sleeve for you. Probably put a bow on it too if you want.”

“Okay, perfect. Do you guys have LP’s too?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah. Hold on, let me put these up front.”

You lead him to the back of the store. “The selection’s pretty small, the first shipment only came in like a month ago. I’m not sure if you’ll find what you want here.”

“She’s been talking about getting more LP’s after she got a new record player. Hasn’t mentioned anything she wants though,” he voices, thumbing through the selection.

“What does she listen to normally?” You ask before quickly adding, “So I can, maybe, help pick something she’d like.”

“Uh, older stuff? I should’ve snooped before coming, fuck.” He mumbles, thinking hard. “She barely plays it when I’m around but most of her LP’s are like Frank Sinatra and…Duran Duran was it?”

“Hm…” You hum as you flick through the dated section of the stockpile, “How’s this?’

He’s taking a look at the record you’ve handed him, scanning the tracklists on the back. “I’ll get this, I guess. I can always bring her around to get more that she likes.”

“D’you want a bow on this?” You ask, referring to the books you’re putting into the set sleeve, “You can pick your colour.”

He’s quick to pick the lilac ribbon, watching you as you tape it prettily on the box. You’re trying to curl the ribbon at the ends when he tries to make conversation.

“When does your shift end?”

If the man wasn’t quite literally buying a birthday present for his girlfriend (or if you had any memory of your own birthday), you’d think he was trying to hit on you. But he’s not. You know that.

“Ten-ish. Closing’s on me so I could technically leave an hour early and no one would know.” You snort.

“Everyday?” he asks incredulously.

“Minus weekends, the family takes care of that. They just need someone for afternoons and evenings on the weekdays. It’s not like I’m taking summer classes or anything, and it’s easy work.”

“Well, you’ll be pleased to find out you’ll most likely be available on the 27th of August, then.” He sing songs as he fishes his phone out to pay, a cheeky air in his expression.

You blink at him in confusion, waiting for him to explain. “Was I supposed to get that?”

He pushes his shoulders back, content expression on his face as he continues. “There’s a cultural art exhibition in two months, and I, have just found out I’ve been shortlisted for a spot.”

“A spot? Like to display your photos?!” You drop the card machine with a thud.

“Your photos. Prof liked the project so much she submitted some of ‘em as entries. It was super short notice, but they liked them, I guess.” His grin is wide, one that you find impossible to not reciprocate. “I just need you to sign a consent form and I’ll be all set to start prepping.”

“That’s insane, Mingyu, congratulations!” You exclaim, genuinely excited. “Are you gonna be using the same pictures?”

“Yup, I just need to fix the editing with my prof before they go up. You’re the first to find out, I just got out of the meeting.”

There’s a mix of hesitation before you utter your next proposal, a split second of bewilderment at what you were about to suggest. “Come over tonight, we can celebrate with Seok. Bring Jia along too, we can celebrate an early birthday.”

“I’ll see, she might be taking a bus home tonight for the weekend, might have to bother you by myself.”

The ache in your cheeks didn’t stop until well after Mingyu had left with his cargo, the elated feeling remaining for even longer after the fact. There was a point where it took you convincing to rid yourself of another intrusive, uneasy feeling, like you were taking a step back by being happy at his announcement.

It was, however, safe to call Mingyu a friend. Safe to be happy for him. Safe to have your heart swell at his achievement, having watched him work hard for it.

It was safe to feel.

This was horrible.

Truly.

You were trying to ignore it, the strange thumping noises coming from under your car, like it would go away if you pretended to not hear. There was a sliver of hope for you, barely five minutes away from home that you’d make it before your tire decided it had enough of trying to grab your attention.

But then it started screeching, and you had to stop before you caused a road fire.

“Tire? Didn’t you get them changed like last month?” Seokmin asks over the phone.

“Didn’t know new tires were immune to industrial blades, too. Are you gonna tell me I got ripped off?”

“Mingyu has a scissor jack, I’ll tell him to come to you.”

“Wait! You have a scissor jack, too! Why can’t you come?” You sputter at the sound, glancing at the 21:42 on the dial.

“He has my scissor jack, he’ll change it for you.” He grits back. “Besides, I’m not letting this face pack go to waste I just put it on.”

“Seok!”

“Stay in the car, lock the doors till he gets there.” He grounds.

“Seokmin!”

Beep.

The bastard hung up.

“Ugh!” you break from a tightened jaw, slamming the car door shut with passion as you huff into your seat, waiting for Mingyu.

Was Mingyu busy at 10:30 PM on a weekday? He was, actually.

He’d scrambled to finish up the last of his meeting with his professor, wrapped up in planning for the exhibition despite the two month time frame he’d been given. Exhibitions were a lot of paperwork, as he was finding out as he sweet talks Jia over the phone, promising to be with her within the next five minutes. Well, ten maybe, he has to grab butter from the store.

She sits on the kitchen counter as Mingyu makes her favourite. A strenuous task, but he’s willing to go through the double frying to make up for the time he’s lost. It’s not until he’s doing the post dinner dishes while Jia’s picking a movie in the living room that he’s met with another dilemma to handle.

He’s deflating as he stands, phone to ear as he listens to Seokmin about your situation. Glancing at the near 10:30 PM hand on the clock, he finds it difficult to refuse, especially when he’s told you’re alone and stranded on a highway. He thinks to Jia in the living room as he tells Seokmin he’s leaving the house to get to you.

He’d only be gone for barely 20 minutes. He’s changed plenty of tires, this should be quick and easy.

Slipping into the living room is easy, wrapping his arms around Jia from behind is even easier. It’s when he has to open his mouth that he begins to falter. Twenty minutes, he reminds himself.

“I have two I’ve heard are really good, you can pick which one we watch first,” she voices as she fluffs the pillows on the couch, ready to tuck in for the rest of the night.

“Babe?”

She spins around in his arms, coming up to fluff his flat hair too. “Hm?”

“Seok just called…”

Her face falls as he talks despite his best attempts to assure her he won’t be long.

“Twenty minutes?” she parrots, wanting his word.

“Fifteen.”

Whether Mingyu would keep his word is something he’d find out, but you had kept your word to Seokmin, staying in the car, doors locked till you saw Mingyu’s car pull up behind you in the rearview. The wretched scissor jack that’s caused all of this sits in his own boot as he yanks it out to bring it over to your car, where you stand arms crossed, face dejected.

“Were you waiting long?” He asks as he immediately crouches to fit the jack where he wants it.

“No, not really,” you reply. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here, if only Seok remembered to take the stupid scissor jack–”

“No, no, it’s okay. I wasn’t doing anything.” Lies. But you already sounded apologetic and he didn’t wanna hear you apologize any further.

“No, it’s not okay. The idiot’s relaxing with a stupid face mask on while you have to come out here and change a fucking tire, God, you have class tomorrow too, don’t you?”

“Not until the afternoon, I’m in the clear.” He springs up from his crouched position, pulling the jack with him. “Open the boot.”

Placing the scissor jack in your boot, he continues, a little breathless. “There, I’ll tell Seokmin I left it in your car. Or, you could do that.”

“Thanks, Mingyu. Really.”

He does nothing but flash a smile, doing his best to convince you you weren’t an inconvenience before having to see your apologetic face again. “Alright, I wanna see you drive off before I leave, go on.”

By the time Mingyu’s slamming the door of the house shut, it’s eighteen minutes on the dot. Jia doesn’t say much, excited to have him back in her arms.

“Wait!” he suddenly yelps, once he’s tucked in with her.

“What now?” she groans.

Mingyu’s bounding back to his bedroom, emerging a few moments later with a dark paper bag. He goes back to sit next to her on the couch, sliding the bag and its contents towards her.

“Here. We’re not gonna be together for your birthday, might as well give you your present the night before you leave.” His eyes are glinting, hopeful.

Jia expresses her thank you’s commenting on the ribbon and his LP choice, grinning widely.

Your name comes tumbling out of Mingyu’s mouth before he can stop himself. “She helped me pick it out!”

“You…took her with you?” She asks after a moment.

“She worked at the store! I didn’t know till I went there either.” Mingyu’s voice grows increasingly enthusiastic, seemingly unaware that his girlfriend was growing slightly irritated. “I’ll take you there when you get back, the selection’s small but she’ll probably help you pick out something you’d like. I only had to give her like two names before she figured it out.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she comments, tight smile on her lips as she collects the book sleeve and the LP, placing them back into the bag and leaving them on the floor next to her.

Mingyu is blissfully unaware of the fuel he’s added to growing embers, munching away on his popcorn, eyes trained on the TV and its stimulating colours.

“I was talking to Jihyo the other day, super random but it came up while we were talking about you,” Jia starts experimentally.

“Huh?” He has her attention. And when she mentions your name, the part of him that’s always wondered when she’d bring it up comes out of dormancy.

“She said she…I don’t know, she said she liked you at some point, Like a lot, and for a while.” Jia sounds unsure, like she didn’t know if it was a good idea to bring you up.

Mingyu sighs as he rears himself for the inevitable conversation. “It’s—well, it was—just puppy love. I was around all the time and I guess she latched, I don’t know.”

Jia pauses, eyes remanging trained on the movie. “Does it make you uncomfy? That she liked you? Maybe she still does.”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I’m around Seok which means I’m sometimes around her by default. Can’t help it. I mean, the photography thing kinda just happened but, I don’t really care. And she seems over it.”

Mingyu is rambling. He can feel it. Which is why he tries to end the conversation right there, tone nonchalant as he hopes the topic breezes past.

It doesn’t.

“You seemed pretty adamant in leaving, though.”

“Huh?”

“When she called just now.”

“Seok called, I had his scissor jack!”

“Why couldn’t he have grabbed it for you and helped his sister himself? He has a car too.” Jia’s paused the movie at this point, moving away from his arm she was leaning on, shifting to look at him fully.

“It would’ve taken him forever, she was alone in the middle of a highway at nearly eleven, you wanted me to leave her there?” Mingyu finds the conversation ridiculous, and it shows in the irritation that rises in his own voice.

“Mingyu, you can’t be upset with me right now,” she breathes out exasperated.

“I’m not? I get that you’re upset, I haven’t been around as much but you also know what this exhibition means to me. I need to put everything I have into this and it’s only for a couple months–”

“Mingyu, it’s not just the exhibition!”

“Jia, I can’t know if you don’t tell me what’s really bothering you, talk to me.” Mingyu’s begging at this point, wondering how it’s come to this in the first place.

“You can’t expect me to be okay with you going around wherever, whenever, when I know what kind of lifestyle you’ve come out of not even six months ago!”

Mingyu had come a long way from his galvanizing tendencies, doing absolutely everything he could to convince Jia he was serious about her. Unfortunately, this was not the first time his past had been brought up; in an argument or in a light hearted setting, and he wasn’t particularly fond of it.

“Are we in six months ago? Are you saying I’ve done nothing substantial for you to think I’m still fucking around? Either give me an instance or figure out what the real issue is!”

There’s a plaster of suffocation in the room, neither soul speaking a word. Until Jia finally speaks. “I wanna go home.”

It didn’t matter to Mingyu if she was expecting him to grovel, to ask her to stay and talk about this further. It was clear she wasn’t about to talk about anything pertinent at all, and definitely not tonight. He was tired, and frankly wanted to be alone right now.

“Fine.”

Silence penetrates all of his air for the entire car ride up until he’s entering his apartment for the third time that day. Not bothering to clean up the living room, he thinks he does himself a service so as to not be reminded of the past couple hours. He’s casting the place in complete darkness before moving to his room. Might as well get some work done.

There’s a conscious effort to not start slamming things, he succeeds mostly, his graphic tablet receiving the short end of the stick. Turning on his monitor, he’s met with his ongoing project still brought up on the screen.

It’s a picture of you. One he took in a greenhouse off the outskirts of the city, something you complained about extensively as the heat ruined both your mood and your hair. You were smiling regardless; a wide, happy smile as you looked into the camera, petunia’s and dahlia’s framing an illusion around your figure.

Mingyu feels the tension in his muscles begin to relax, his breathing evening out after what felt like hours. He becomes almost excited to pick up his stylus and work on the photo, the set up allowing him to dive right in. There was barely any work left, moving on as he finishes the photo and saves it.

It isn’t until he happens to click on the the last folder, the one where you both caught the sunrise after a strenuous hike. He can’t help but break into a hint of a smile at the memory of your broken figure at the pathway, cursing him for bringing you here so early in the morning. The pictures had come out good, especially when Mingyu opens a particular photo at the bottom of the folder, an extra from his initial round of editing for his actual project.

It’s of you (of course) with your chin tucked into your arms as you gaze at the scene from up above, beyond the railing. The sun is up higher at that point, but the cast remains as the top half of your face that wasn’t tucked in your arms is lit in an orange glow, eyes glistening like stars during the day, wide and beautiful.

Mingyu remembers the shot. It was an accident.

In an attempt to fiddle with the settings to turn off the camera, he ended up snapping a picture instead. The distinct click was noticed, never bothering to check what came out of it when he stuffed his camera back into his bag, nor when he sifted through his SD card.

It was like he was seeing the picture in a new light, and the potential it had to become something worth ogling at. He wonders what had come over him when he had placed the photo as a secondary option without another thought, lamenting at what could’ve been his actual final piece.

He stares and stares, attempting to draw maps of color rendering in his mind, yet all that comes up is his eyes zeroing in on your own. How they glisten. How they sparkle.

Part 2

6K notes · View notes

joeyfranchise · 5 months ago

Text

is it cool that i said all that?

joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: everything you thought you said and everything that happened… was all a dream? how can you go through this again, tell joe your real feelings, and calm yourself down enough to let the truth out? and how will he take it?

warnings: MDNI!!! (and i’m not gonna tell y’all again bc i’ll start blocking.) smuttttt, it’s fluffy too! oral (m. rec), p in v, spitting, manhandling ofc, size kink! a lil light choking again. this one got a lil nastier than i originally intended. cocky joe is always it’s own warning.

word count: 4.1k.

note: THIS IS A PART 2, original fic here (x). it starts exactly where it ended, so it will not make sense if you haven’t read part 1 first. much love to yous. 💗 (so sorry it came a day later than i wanted it to.)

you rub your sweaty palms against your shorts and bite at the inside of your cheek. you watch joe as he toes off his shoes and socks, making himself comfortable. for some reason, that helps you calm down the tiniest bit.

he sits next to you expectantly, silently waiting on you to speak. your heart is beating against your chest as hard as it ever has before. you’re swimming around inside your own brain like a goldfish. the room is spinning.

you feel joe’s hands - his large hands - grab your shoulders, steadying your now swaying form.

“y/n, you look like you’re gonna be sick. are you sure you’re okay?” he questions, voice laced with concern. he reaches up and tucks a strand of your sweaty, slightly tangled hair behind your ear.

somewhere, deep inside your head, you’re screaming out all your feelings. you’re telling joe you love him, you appreciate him, he’s everything to you. but the words just won’t slip past your lips.

joe’s worried. he’s not sure what’s going on, but he’s trying to think of something, anything to help you.

you close your eyes and try to take a few deep breaths, sorting through your thoughts like a rolodex. you clench and unclench your fists. you count. one. two. three. four. five.

when you open your eyes you look at joe, still looking concerned. you avert your gaze to the wall. “alright joey,” you start, “here goes nothing.” you take one last shaky breath.

“i have a lot to say so, i’m just gonna spill it out okay?” you ask, once more giving yourself a moment. “go ahead, i’m all ears.” he says, rubbing your shoulder. finally, you face him again, his blue eyes staring into yours.

“listen, joey. i don’t want this to be weird. i just… i think i’ve liked you as long as i’ve known you, and i think i’ve known for a while that i… i don’t just like you. i have serious feelings for you. and i know that’s a complicated predicament to put us in because we’re best friends, but hopefully you’ll feel the same. and if you don’t, then i hope you can understand because i can’t lose you as a friend. you’re all i have, i care about you more than anything and i can’t lose you. i literally cannot.” you spill out, emotions beginning to flow. joe looks at you with a soft gaze. he opens his mouth like he’s going to speak, but then he closes it.

“and i know it’s sudden joe, i know it’s abrupt. but the teasing about our size difference was really getting to me, i’m assuming you must’ve caught on to that. and i know it’s probably wrong to be fantasizing over your best friend or something but i just… i love you and i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.” you’re word vomiting. tears begin to stream down your cheeks as you apologize to him. you’re afraid you’ve ruined everything, that he’s gonna walk away from you, leave this friendship and everything you’ve ever had behind.

but why would he?

before you can register what’s happening, you’re being pulled into his lap and crushed against his chest for a hug. you begin crying even harder.

“y/n, bub.. don’t cry.” he says, rubbing your back soothingly.

“will you look at me?”

you pull away from his tight hug and look into his eyes once again as he wipes away your tears with his thumbs. “everything is okay. breathe for me. we’ll keep talking in a minute. just breathe in for four seconds, hold for four, blow out for four, hold again and repeat. square breathing, remember we learned that together?”

you try. you try so hard to regulate your breathing, emotions, feelings. but here you are, straddling his lap just like in your dream - your stupid fucking dream you haven’t even gotten to yet - and you can’t even focus on breathing properly.

joe’s strong hands find their way to your arms, rubbing soothing circles into your biceps. you breathe in, hold for four, and try to do square breathing. you close your eyes, once again trying to just gather your thoughts. joe lets you sit in your silence, allowing you to process before he speaks his mind.

once you open your eyes again, still finding his gaze on you, you think you’re ready to continue. before you can start the conversation back up, joe is speaking.

“let me say my piece, okay?” his voice sounds sure, his gaze is stern. you’re still afraid of where this is going. all you can do is nod your head yes.

“i’ll start by saying i figured it out on the football field, but it was solidified when you spent the night with me. i don’t think it’s crazy or weird that you like that, i’d be lying if i said i haven’t thought about you in that manner too. i mean, any guy and girl as close as we are.. there’s bound to be sexual or intimate thoughts bouncing around in our heads somewhere, right?” he cocks his head to the side, a small gesture that lets you know he’s being honest, that he isn’t bothered by anything you said. that helps you breathe easier for a moment.

“honestly y/n, i’ve loved you a long time. as a friend, as something more. and it’s selfish but… it’s like i always knew you were gonna be there. i always knew you were my girl. i hate that i’ve never come to you about it before. i hate that i’ve dated around and never talked to you about these feelings, because deep down i know it was wrong. i think i’ve known for a while we both felt the same about each other.”

a part of you wants to be mad, because in truth it is kinda fucked up for him to just leave you in waiting, but your brain is focusing on something else. my girl. my girl. my girl.

he just called you his girl. something about that possessive phrase has you reeling, and after the evening you’ve had, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t want to make you jump his bones that much more.

“y/n… anything to say?”

shit. you zoned out.

“oh, sorry joey.” you mumble out, closing your eyes and shaking your head lightly. “i mean… i’m glad that you feel the same way. i think i might be a little mad at you later, but right now i’m trying to process this all. but… it’s cool that i said all that?”

“yeah, it’s cool. is it cool that i said that? and would it be cool if i said i loved you back?” he asks, a playful lilt to his tone.

“i mean they do call you joe cool, so, everything you do is cool.” you smile down at him, and he matches your expression. you let your hands wander to the nape of his neck, lightly scratching at his hair.

he sits up, pressing his chest into yours, nose inches from your own. something is starting to feel oddly familiar.

“and if i kissed you? that’d be super cool right?”

“the coolest.”

his hands come back up to cup your cheeks as he brings his lips to yours gently. you gasp out in shock. they’re softer than they were in your dream, and he doesn’t taste like mint. he tastes more like mango. probably all the damn body armor, you think to yourself.

as he deepens the kiss, slowly and sweetly, you reach over and pinch yourself.

“did you just… pinch your arm?” he asks, breaking away from your lips to catch his breath.

“yeah… so you know how i looked like a sweaty disheveled mess when you got here?”

“i’m familiar. you still do.”

you smack his arm. “well i was… kinda…” you start, then you bury your face in his neck.

“you were whacking it?” he laughs, tipping his head back.

“no fucker, i wasn’t whacking it.” you laugh too. “but i was having a pretty good sex dream. involving you. and me. and a lot of manhandling.”

you can feel your cheeks heating, your heart is beating hard again. “is that so?” he asks, teasing you again. “you wanna re-enact it?”

hell no. nope. this isn’t happening again. you can’t be, you aren’t dreaming again right?

you hop off his lap and run to the kitchen, turning on the cold tap and splashing water all over your face. you’re definitely awake. joe hops off the couch after you, laughing at your dramatics, something he’s very used to. before you know what’s happening, he’s rearing back and smacking your ass. hard.

“JOE!” you scream, jumping forward. “what, i figured that’d show you that you’re awake.” he shrugs, leaning against the counter smugly. you grab a cup from the cabinet, filling it with some of the cold water before finally turning off the faucet. you walk forward a few inches toward joe. “don’t start something you can’t finish.” he warns, wagging a finger at you. you start to tip the cup, but he’s moved in a flash, running out of the kitchen and down the hall.

you peek around the corner and joe is nowhere to be found. tiptoeing your way down the hall, you look into the bathroom quickly to see if joe’s hiding there. he isn’t. you keep walking, almost to your room. before you register what’s happening, a hard body is leaping at you then pressing you to the wall. the cup of cold water is spilled all over you as a result.

he’s laughing, face inches from your own. “what the hell, joe!” you exclaim, but soon you’re laughing too. joe leans back in to kiss you again and you gladly accept his lips, loving how they mold with your own.

he mumbles a little “jump” into your kiss, so you do and wrap your legs around his waist. your hands find his hair again, you weave your fingers between the shorts strands and tug lightly, earning a groan in response. joe nips at your bottom lip, pulling it slightly with his teeth.

he pulls back from the wall with your body still wrapped around his and walks you into your bedroom, and all of this is beginning to feel oddly familiar again. he tosses you on the bed. you look up at him with lustful eyes as he stares back at you. the air in the room is thick, heady.

“joey…” you breathe out, your voice lower than usual. your tone is dripping with arousal. you watch joe swallow, knowing he’s just as turned on as you. he’s in this moment too. as you’re peeling your now cold wet shirt off your body, you hear him respond.

“yeah, baby?”

his voice is deeper too. he sounds so gruff, so sexy, it’s almost like you can feel him speaking between your legs. whatever is happening in this moment is like your dream to the max. arousal and sexual tension to the nth degree.

“there’s something that didn’t happen in my dream that i really wanna do, is that okay?”

you slide off the bed and onto your knees, crawling forward a bit until you’re directly in front of him. “and what’s that?” he lilts, smirk crawling across his face again.

“i wanna suck your dick, joe.” you rasp. you watch as he tilts his head back, his eyes rolling. a small “fuck” escapes his lips. from your position on the floor you can see that’s at least half hard in his shorts. you reach up and grab the waistband, tugging his shorts down. joe shrugs his shirt off at the same time, leaving him completely bare to you.

his cock springs up, slapping against his stomach. somehow, someway, it’s bigger than what you imagined in your dream. you wrap a hand around the base and bring the head to your lips, sticking out your tongue to kitten lick at his tip teasingly. you take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him off.

what won’t fit into your mouth is being worked by your hand, in quick motions. you look up at joe through your eyelashes and he thinks he could cum right then. slurping sounds fill the room as you take him into your mouth eagerly, over and over again.

joe suddenly looks at you before grabbing your hair in a makeshift ponytail. “you want rough, right?” he rasps, his eyes hooded.

“mmmph… mhm.” you mumble, never removing his cock from your mouth. “tsk-tsk. talking with your mouthful. so rude.” he teases.

his hands tighten in your hair and he gives you one final glance before taking over control and beginning to fuck your mouth. you let your hand drop as joe finds a rhythm, pumping his hips forward as he holds your head into place.

tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes, your lips are starting to get sore, but you don’t care. the fact that joe is using you so roughly to get himself off is almost enough to have you creaming in your panties. after a few minutes of joe’s relentless face-fucking, you feel his hips stutter, but before he cums he pulls out from your mouth with a loud pop.

“stand up.” he commands, his voice low and gravelly. you rise to your feet before him, craning your neck up so you can look into his eyes. he lifts you again, your legs wrapping around his waist. he walks you closer to the bed again, plopping you down onto it.

he’s still standing above you, his gaze is giving you chills. it’s almost like a switch has flipped, like he remembered suddenly how this all came to fruition. that you love how much bigger he is than you, you fantasize about him throwing you around, and he intends to use that to his advantage.

“strip.”

you stay still for a few seconds as you try to process what’s happening and gauge joe’s reactions, but when he repeats himself you strip immediately, starting by unclasping your bra and then taking off your shorts and panties, tossing them aside aimlessly. you lay bare before him and, just like your dream, you feel confident. his eyes rake over your form and he licks his lips.

joe leans over you, finally climbing into your bed, slotting his knee between your legs. “look at you, all spread out. you’re perfect, y/n. fucking perfect.” you shudder.

he brushes your hair away from your neck and starts kissing along the column, the tip of his nose occasionally brushing your ear lobe. your soft moans fill the room, but you let out a sharp gasp as he moves his leg up, pressing his thigh against your core. joe chuckles against your throat.

“joey, i can’t take it anymore, please.” you beg, scratching at his shoulders. he moves away from your neck slowly, you can see his pupils blown wide as his eyes once again rake over your naked body. you grind down on his leg, searching for something, any kind of friction to ease the ache in your already soaking wet core.

he begins kissing your lips again, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip and you part them for him, his tongue melding with your own. he snakes a hand down your body as he moves his thigh away from you, and you whine at the loss of contact. his kisses trail down your throat again, over the soft planes of your collarbones, and onto your chest. his tongue slowly drags over your nipple, flicking around the hard bud.

finally, his hand makes its way between your legs, the tips of his calloused fingers making contact with your swollen clit. he slides his hand lower to gather some of your wetness before rubbing tight circles against your clit.

“j-joey, ah fuck..” you moan out, pressing yourself down into his hand. “please fuck me, joe. i need it so bad.”

you’ve never been more sexually frustrated than you are in this moment. even though you’re with joe, he’s touching and kissing you, your burning desire and needs aren’t being satiated. you need him to fuck you, rough and hard.

“needy, huh?” he laughs, kissing the valley between your breasts. you want to answer, but the words get caught in your throat and instead you just let out a strangled whine. joe smirks, wondering if you’ll get there just from him touching your clit. he lowers his hand, dipping two fingers into you as his thumb takes over your clit, your body jerks as a reaction.

you arch your back off the bed, pressing down as hard as you can onto joe’s fingers as he works them in and out of you. when he suddenly stops, you scream frustratedly.

“calm down, princess.” he says, his smarmy tone filling your ears and making you want to slap him. you look down, watching joe as he finally grabs his hard length and strokes it a few times. he slowly presses his tip into you and you whine at the stretch of him. your eyes are screwed closed, your breath coming out in short puffs as he inches forward slowly, until he’s completely seated inside you.

“it’s so big joe,” you groan, your voice completely fucked out.

“or maybe you’re just really small, baby.”

what a fucker, you think. he grabs your legs at the thighs and brings them up, hooking your knees over his shoulders. he pressed his weight into you so that your knees are next to your head, and from this position you can feel everything. every inch, every vein. it’s euphoric.

his hips start moving finally, and you bite your arm to stifle a loud scream that threatens to break through your lips. joe roughly moves your arm away from your face.

“fuck no, let me hear you. let everyone around hear who’s making you feel this good.” his dominance reverberates through your bones. maybe this is what heaven is like?

you don’t say anything, but you allow every sound, every breath and gasp of pleasure fall from your gaping maw as joe pounds you relentlessly into your mattress.

“you look so pretty like this baby, you’re taking it so well. thought it’d be to big for you.” he teases, his hand finding your throat. once again, something similar to your dream. but this is reality, and that makes it a thousand times better. “joe, i’m so close.. please, i’m..”

although his actions are dominant, the way he’s pressed against you, his large frame caging your much smaller one against the bed, and his large hands are holding you down, the sincere love and affection that’s shown in his eyes is what’s going to take you right to that edge and drop you off.

“open your mouth.” he commands. you do as you are told, too into the moment to even argue. you part your lips, and suddenly joe is spitting right into your mouth. “swallow it.” who are you to say no?

you obey him. his hand finds your clit once more and after a few erratic strokes of his fingertips over your swollen bud you’re coming, harder than you ever have before. every nerve ending in your body is set ablaze, white hot fire spreading over your skin.

in this moment, all you know is joe.

your orgasm prompts his own as your heat tightens around him, and after a few pumps he’s filling you up before falling forward and pressing his sweaty forehead against your own. your eyes are still closed, but you know he’s smiling. you’re smiling too.

joe pulls out of you and you both hiss. you feel him move from the bed, and you hear his footsteps pattering down the hall to your bathroom as he turns the shower on. when he comes back, your eyes are open, waiting to see his face.

“come on,” he says, lifting you up. “let’s go clean up.”

he helps you stand in the shower, and the intimacy of the moment feels easy for you both, it’s comfortable. you’re thankful for that. he helps you wash, your body and your hair, and then the two of you stand under the hot stream and laugh and talk after joe finishes cleaning himself.

as he helps you out from the shower, you can’t help but tease him. “risky move there cumming inside me, by the way. you want children this young? in your prime?”

“i know you’re on the pill, y/n. i know everything about you. plus, a kid with you wouldn’t be so bad.”

you’re instantly flustered at his answer, but you quickly brush it off. you keep talking as you both make your way down the hall and back to your room. “if you know everything about me then what am i thinking right now?”

he laughs as he walks into your closet, rummaging through a stack of his clothes that you keep there for him. he foregoes boxers, which makes you giggle, and you bite your lip as you watch him pull the pair of sweatpants he chose up over his ass. you make a mental note to get a handful of it soon.

he turns around, tossing you one of his old college shirts. “you’re thinking ‘wow, i really wanna order thai food and watch scream with my sexy hot best friend who just rocked my entire world.’ sound accurate?”

you laugh at his statement, but you agree. “damn joey, you’re good.” you walk over to your dresser to grab a pair of panties, slipping them on below the shirt joe gave you.

the two of you go out to your living room as you order your food and joe preps for the movie. the rest of your evening is spent cuddled up as you eat together and relax, another one of those moments of comfortable silence between you. the simplicity of just enjoying each other’s presence, something you both love.

you fall asleep with your head on joe’s chest, the soft lull of his breathing and the beating of his heart helping ease you into a lovely slumber.

wake in the morning, it’s because of a shrill ringing. this is familiar, you think. your body almost slips into panic mode, because no the fuck you did not dream this shit again, but when you feel joe’s hard body pressed against yours, and in nothing but gray sweatpants, you thank every god you can think of.

you look over to one of your end tables, noticing it’s his phone that’s ringing. from where you are, you can barely see it, so you crane your neck up to get a better look. you can see a girl's name and contact photo lighting up the screen.

okay, you tell yourself, don’t panic. he has a lot of friends and stuff. just wake joe up so he can answer it.

you shake him awake, his groggy eyes taking a moment to open.

“morning y/n.” he says, finally looking at you. you pick at your thumbnail nervously. “morning joey. your um- your phone was ringing.”

he reaches for it, tapping the screen to see his notifications. you see his expression drop, which makes you feel even more nervous.

“it’s my friend kate,” he starts, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “i told her we could have brunch this morning since i didn’t figure i’d be busy… but that was before we— i didn’t know how our talk would go.” his guilty tone lets you know everything you need to know, that more than brunch was being planned.

you slide off the couch, walking back toward your room. joe is quick to follow. you turn, stopping him by placing a firm hand to his chest. “go have brunch, have a good time.” your small, defeated voice pierces joe right through the heart.

“y/n, please. i love you, i told you i love you. i want you to be mine. that’s all i want, from now til forever. just, let me explain all that to kate, okay? and then i’ll be back. we’ll spend the whole day together. does that sound good?” he’s groveling, you can tell. you can’t really be mad at him, because he made these plans prior to what has just happened between you, but you’re reminded of what he told you yesterday, and that pisses you off.

“fine, joey. go. we’ll talk when you get back.” you bite, turning on your heel and stalking off to your room, slamming the door behind you.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @bengals-barnesbabe @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 (i added everyone from the replies on part1 & all taglist requests- i hope that’s okay! 💗)

967 notes · View notes

ohimsummer · 1 year ago

Text

DARK RED ft. BULLY!SATOSUGU

— minors dni, angst w/comfort, mostly bully!satoru x reader, ft. bully! suguru, one implication of male masturbation, some fluff, also one (1) kiss

summary; bully! satoru manages to seriously upset you, and now he’s scrambling to give you a genuine apology

wc 2.8k

"I thought love was supposed to be easy."

Geto pauses mid-sip. "Oh, is that what you're calling this?"

Satoru leans further into his hand. His cheek smushes against his palm, muffling his grumbles. "Duh. What else would it be?"

"You being a dumbass."

Gleaming, white hair sways over Satoru's forehead, brushes his skin. "She wasn't supposed to react like that." You don't usually react like that, he thinks.

He toys with you all the time. The constant teasing and insults towards you is a regular occurrence, as much as you seem to hate it, but you always end up angrily leaving Gojo in the dust, and then the cycle repeats the next day. Only it was different last time; they’re your usual cries and shouts, but it’s a different type of outburst. Real tears in your eyes, your choked words of 'you suck!' and 'why can't you ever take anything seriously for once?' piercing through Gojo's heart and leaving a still-bleeding wound. They don't have your usual, pissed-off bite to them, but instead sound miserable. Heartbroken and disappointed, like the victim of a betrayal. Your expression shriveled any incoming words up in Satoru's throat, leaving him wide-eyed and dumbfounded as he watched you messily wipe away flowing tears and shove past him. That was last Wednesday, and he hasn't seen you since, not a glimpse or even a whiff of you on campus. It's like you never attended this college to begin with.

Satoru looks at his text messages with you, the last one being a dismal 'princess?' that you hadn't even read. He'd thought about threatening to leak one of the many sex tapes he had of you in his phone, but usually those coercions were bluffs, as Gojo nor Geto would dare leak their precious videos of you like that to anyone else. Besides, somehow forcing you into showing yourself made Satoru's stomach queasy. Like he'd vomit up his own heart.

"There."

He looks up at the sound of Geto's voice, following his pointed finger to the drink machine in the cafeteria. After loitering around for 2 hours, you'd finally shown up, alone and looking a little worse for wear. Even from a distance, Satoru can spot the dark circles under your eyes.

You stand idly in line, awaiting your turn to fill your cup. Eyes flitting from person to person, looking out for a fray of white strands or dark hair. It's hard to discern when the cafeteria is so busy at this hour, though you're not too concerned. Gojo and Geto don't usually frequent the cafe, not unless they're here to cause trouble. And you've been avoiding Satoru for about a week now with no complaints from either of them, so you're hoping you can get in and out without being spotted.

It’s an easy walk out of the cafeteria building, and you’re on your way back to your dorm when a familiar nickname stops you in your tracks. "Hey, princess!"

Fight or flight kicks in, and unfortunately your feet cement to the ground. His presence grows stronger as he draws near, until you can sense Gojo right behind you.

"Been avoiding me, Y/N?"

It feels off. He never really calls you by your actual name. "Why do you care?"

A few seconds of silence pass. Then, "Guess I missed my pretty girl is all."

Your heart aches for a second, before you scoff. "Sure you did. What, it's not the same making some other girl cry?"

Gojo doesn't answer, and you finally force your legs to pick up, heaving yourself towards your destination.

"Sorry."

Aaand, they're stuck again. Blinking, your head eases to the side, catching sight of Gojo in the corner of your vision. He looks awkward, staring at you with hands in his pockets and scuffing the ground as he kicks at the concrete. A knot forms in your stomach, hearing him utter an apology without his usual sarcasm or malice. It almost makes you want to talk things over, until the pain of your previous encounter comes flooding back, and you leave him standing there by himself. Rejected.

Day turns to darkness, and Satoru is stuck with another night of humping his fist like a desperate virgin. Suguru’s out, no telling where, leaving him alone with regretful thoughts to torment him. The next day passes. Then two. Then three. Satoru feels like he's going insane, and it's not just because he misses fucking you on the daily. He never realized just how much of a constant you were in his life until suddenly you weren't. Fuck. He groans into his pillow.

"Maybe give her a non-half-baked apology, like a normal person.," Geto complains. "And stop making so much noise, you're distracting."

"Fuck off."

"Fine, she can stay mad at you forever for all I care. You're the one who can't get in her pussy, not me."

Satoru jolts up, jaw falling slack as he glares at who was supposed to be his best friend. "Wha–, you're still fucking her? I just saw her for the first time again like three days ago!"

A smile stretches across Geto’s face. "Do you think our darling is stupid? Why would I get punished for your wrong-doings, she knows I’d fuck her up for that. "

Gojo flops face-down back onto the bed. "Not fair. We should be suffering together."

"Hell no, this is a personal problem between you and Y/N."

He groans again, legs kicking in the air. "Suguruuu, what do I do?"

"...Give her a genuine apology? I coulda sworn I just said that.”

"I already said sorry!"

"Genuine, I said. Not lazy. Give her something she likes."

Satoru turns slightly, brows furrowed. "What, like flowers? I don't know her favorites."

"Sunflowers."

Gojo pauses, directing a curious stink-eye towards Suguru. "And how do you know that?"

"Because I asked?"

Satoru rests a cheek against his arm, thoughts wandering off as he thinks of all the things he knows about you. Small things he's noticed. Like how you wear necklaces more often than any other jewelry, what certain colors catch your eye, things you've mentioned in passing when arguing with him. And now he does remember offering you a random weed he plucked from the ground as a joke, and you muttering 'what the fuck? for future reference, i like sunflowers’ before walking away from him.

"Suguru!," the mentioned man jolts at the sudden bellow of his name. "I'm making Y/N a bouquet!"

"Right." Geto rolls his eyes. "Do you even know how to do that?"

"Do you?"

"Not really–“

"Excellent, cancel your plans tomorrow, we're going out to get flowers!"

Suguru sighs. "Fine."

Both men, well Satoru, and a very grumpy Suguru after being shaken to consciousness, get up bright and early the next Saturday morning in search of a florist.

"Are these vibrant enough, ya think?" Satoru questions Geto, rubbing a hand over his own chin in contemplation. These flowers needed to be perfect, he wanted only the best for his ba–, you.

"These for someone special?," the lady behind the booth inquires. She smiles politely as she admires the golden petals. "A girlfriend, or wife, perhaps?"

"Uh–“

"Wife.," Satoru cuts Geto off. "So yes, very special, indeed."

He narrows his eyes at Suguru, who poorly muffles a chuckle behind his hand. "What?"

"Nothing. Didn't know you were married, is all."

Satoru shrugs, turning to examine the sunflowers again. "Hmph. That just shows you know nothing about me."

“I know you’re a jackass.”

“Anyway,” Gojo brushes him off. “I think these look terrific, perfect for my girl. I’ll take them all!”

Silence passes. The florist’s lids flutter in astonishment. “All of them?”

“Yep! This bouquet needs to be huge!”

Suguru places a hand on his shoulder. “I think that’s enough for several bouquets.”

Gojo’s grin widens. “Even better! Give ‘em to me.”

The looks both men get as they walk the streets with giant armfuls of sunflowers are…peculiar, but Satoru is too busy firing off his own praises on how he’s going to give you the best apology of your life to notice.

“I’m gonna make her cry!,” he beams, pauses, before adding, “Happy tears this time, though.”

Shoulders bounce as Suguru laughs, unable to stifle it with his hands full of shining yellow flowers. “She might just tell you to piss off.”

“Would it kill you to have some faith in me?”

“A little, yes.”

Geto curses under his breath. ‘Shit!’ as he goes stumbling forward right over Satoru’s foot, almost loosing his grip on the assortment in his arms.

“Hey, don’t you dare drop those.,” Gojo pouts. “These are for my wife, and they’re her favorite.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

It takes Satoru hours before he’s happy with the final product. Along with countless tutorials on how to organize a bouquet properly.

“Hold it this way.,” he commands Suguru, who rolls his tired eyes, ready to catch up on the sleep he missed this morning. “There, perfect! Wait, hold on, let me just redo this.”

“Can you hurry up?,” Geto frowns at him. “You’ve redone it like a million times already, damn.”

“Hey, my marriage is at stake here, excuse me for trying to make this look like the best bouquet she’ll ever see!”

“I’m letting go.”

“Nonowait! Okay, I’m done, promise.”

The bouquet comes out stunning, given the fact it was whipped up by two college boys who’d never created a bouquet in their lives, and especially when one of those college boys was Satoru Gojo. He boasts to Suguru, who’s yanking a blanket over his head, how it’s “his best work yet”.

“Maybe be a little more humble when you give it to her.,” Suguru grumbles as Satoru heads out, eager to present you with the display of his apologetic affections.

There’s a certain pep in his step, an excitement Gojo doesn’t often feel unless it’s to see your pretty face. Elated can’t even begin to describe it. The image of your soft lips curling into a smile, eyes sparkling as you see the large array of your favorite flowers, pushes Satoru closer and closer to your dorm building, which stands tall before him. He can’t help but mentally pat himself on the back. Heart swelling, Gojo can see it now, this surprise is going to make you ecstatic–

“Gojo?”

He halts mid-stride, foot hovering in the air, arms loosening around the bouquet. Satoru turns towards the sound and there you are, standing ten feet from him. Your mouth is open in a small ‘o’ as you notice the gift in his hand. Both of you stand there for a moment, eyeing each other, before you eventually break the silence.

“What’s that?”

Satoru snaps back to life, fumbling terribly to stuff the large bouquet behind his back, and he damns himself for making something so awkwardly huge. You watch, biting back a giggle, as he tries to hide what you’ve so obviously seen already. He stutters “u-uh, nothing!’ as a few petals flutter down from his hard work, and he curses ‘fuck!’.

It's easy to sneak up on Gojo when he's so busy floundering with the bunch of flowers. Your mouth threatens to grow into a smile, teeth sinking into your lips at the outlandish sight of him struggling to completely conceal the massive bouquet from your sight. The sharp pinch of your fingertips on his shoulder snatches Gojo from his frantic thoughts.

“Is this your way of apologizing again?”

“No!,” is his instant reply, startling you until Gojo averts his gaze to the concrete. “I mean...yeah. You ruined the surprise.”

This interaction feels more routine, less delicate. The way his lips jut out in a pout, his teasing banter. Crossing arms over your chest, you give Gojo an unamused look. “Ummm, it’s huge. How did you plan on hiding that from me?”

“…”

Satoru thinks his heart stutters as you hold out your arms, hands gesturing for the bouquet, and he slowly reveals the assortment of flowers behind his back. Through his panicked, rushed efforts to hide them, the paper has torn, some of the flowers are missing petals, and some aren’t in the exact position he and Suguru had so meticulously arranged them.

“Dumbass.,” you huff, wrapping fingers around the stems, which are adorned with a crinkly, cream colored paper and a dark green bow. “I’m still mad with you.”

Satoru’s breath hitches as your fingers brush his, as if it's the first time he's ever touched you. He relinquishes hold of the bouquet. “You like ‘em, though? Don’t lie, I can tell.”

“Just shut up.”

He flashes you a toothy, boyish grin, one that makes your heart beat a little faster. “It’s all for you, my pretty Y/N.”

Eyes rolling, you intently study the bouquet, raising it to hide your flustered expression. A warmth creeps over your body at the way Satoru utters your name, like if he says it too loudly, it will break apart into glass pieces. The paper creases under your restless fingers.

“Thank you, Satoru.”

The flowers are striking, but Gojo doesn’t think they compare at all to your beauty. Blue eyes admire you, at the way you marvel over the bunch of sunflowers, beaming at how fresh and vibrant and downright captivating they are. You glance up to meet Satoru’s eye, and he rubs at the back of his neck.

“So, uh,” he starts, avoiding your gaze. “I’m sorry about what I said. Really didn’t mean to upset you that much.”

Your eyes narrow. “That much?”

“Well, you know you’re really hot when you’re mad, but I didn’t mean to do that–“

“And did I look hot then?”

“No! Well, you weren’t ugly, but I didn’t like seeing you so upset–, usually it’s a turn on when you’re all angry but it felt different that time and Suguru didn’t tell me until later you were having a super rough day so I figured I might have hit a nerve–“

You cradle the bouquet to your chest, thoroughly enjoying the clumsy flow of his words, determined not to dig himself a deeper hole or upset you all over again. His lips pause, and then Gojo interrupts another sentence with a new one, before the downturn of his brows as he catches your gleaming eyes.

“My point is that I’m sorry.” He spots the twitch of your frown. “I know you wanna smile, let me see it.”

You can’t help but grin as your mouth opens. “No I don’t. And I guess you’re forgiven, now get away from me so I can enjoy my bouquet in peace.”

“Wait, that’s not it!” Before you turn away, Satoru reaches into his back pocket to pull out a small, white, silk bag with a white ribbon securing the opening. “I got this too. Here.”

You recognize the design of the tiny sack from a rather expensive jewelry store, one you could only dream of buying from. And now here you were, in possession of something from that same store, mouth gaping open as Satoru snickers.

“You just gonna stare, baby, or…?”

The fabric of the bag is soft in your hands, smooth and easy on your fingers. Hugging the bouquet to your side, the ribbon loosens to reveal a dainty, silver necklace inside, adorned with a small, heart charm engraved with your initials.

“Oh, wow . .” You’re awestruck at how delicate and pretty it looks. Turning it over, you find a “G.S” on the other side of the heart. “And Suguru’s initials on the back? How sweet.”

“Don’t play.”

“Whatever.,” you giggle at his downturned lips. “It’s very nice, I like it.”

Satoru can’t help pat himself on the back. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it? Cost a hefty chunk of change, especially since I wanted it so quick and on such short notice–“

“Uh huh.” This big dummy. Your smile grows at the thought.

“–and you know I just had to get the best for my pretty girl, plus I got kinda hard at the thought of my initials on your chest–“

Gojo’s words catch in his throat at the soft press of your lips to his cheek. Blood shoots to his face, instantly, and you can’t help bursting into a round of giggles, barely gasping out ‘you look like a strawberry!’. He’s so embarrassed that the realization that you willingly kissed him of your own accord doesn’t even register. All Satoru feels is a burning heat on his cheeks and a tightness in his chest, desire squeezing a fist around his heart as you smirk up at him through a fit of laughter.

“You are really somethin’ else. Bye, Satoru, also learn to stop talking sometimes.”

All Gojo can do is wave as you depart, leaving you with a ‘see ya, princess’ as you disappear into the building, sparing him one last glance. His phone vibrates as you leave his line of sight, announcing a text from Suguru.

asshole🤮: you give it to her yet?

s: i thought the sleeping beauty was getting a nap in?

asshole🤮: she told you to fuck off, didn’t she?

s: stfu

#bully! satosugu #bully! satoru #satoru gojo imagine #satoru x reader #Satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader fluff #jjk x reader fluff #satoru gojo angst #jjk angst

1K notes · View notes

urmum-lovesme · 2 months ago

Text

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P13

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: Hey my Angel Babies! It's been a while since I've written this series and in all honesty I needed a few days to really decide on the next bits of the plot. Any who, here we are. Poor Y/n is dealing with the aftermath of the case, we get some of the group back together which is so cute, and then we have an unexpected crashout.... AND a little moment between two people whatever could that mean hmmm???

warnings: alcohol, drinking, mentions of s/a, vomiting, mentions of community service, crying, emotional turmoil, violent behaviour, injuries, blood.

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

The country club buzzed softly with the muted sounds of conversation and clinking glasses, but for Y/N, the world felt oddly distant. She sat with Topper at a small table on the patio, nursing a drink she didn’t particularly want but felt compelled to hold. The ice had melted, condensation pooling around the base of the glass, but she hadn’t taken more than a few sips. Topper, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair, watching her carefully as though she might snap at any moment.

“I just can’t believe he won”

Y/N muttered, her voice low but sharp. She traced the rim of her glass with a trembling finger, her frustration palpable.

“It doesn’t make sense, Topper. I told the truth- I did everything right.”

Topper leaned forward slightly closer to the table. He studied her, his chest tightening at the sight before him. There was something different about Y/N these days, like the light she carried- the spark that used to make her shine in every room- had been dimmed. He’d seen it start to slip away even now, months later, it was like it was draining out of her completely. He knew what had happened was something impossible to just “get over,” but a part of him had hoped time would start to heal her wounds, that she’d slowly begin to rebuild herself. Instead, he’d watched her retreat inward, her laughter growing quieter, her eyes a little emptier. And it killed him to see someone so full of life now struggling under the weight of something so cruel. Still, he forced a calmness into his voice,

“I know you did, Y/N,”

Topper exhaled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “You can’t keep going over it like this, it’s not good for you.”

She shot him a glare, “That’s not helpful.”

“I’m not trying to be helpful,” he shot back as he took a swing of his drink, “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking okay?”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head as she leant forward speaking to him pointing to herself, “Oh, so now you’re all thinking I should just get over it? Move on like nothing happe-”

“-that’s not what I’m saying-” Topper began firmly shooting her a stern look, but she cut him off, her voice rising as she crossed her arms, head tilting slightly.

“Then what are you saying, Topper? Because it sure sounds like you’re all tired of me talking about it!”

He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a groan. “No one’s tired of you, Y/N. That’s not what this is about. We’re just—” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

“We’re worried about you.”

Y/N shook her head, as she lifted her glass to her lips, swallowing some of the cold liquid in the glass, her grip on the glass tight, sitting in silence for a moment, looking at the mint flattened against the side of her glass.

“Well I’m sorry that I don't know how to sit here and pretend I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” Topper said gently. “You’re allowed to be angry, Y/N.”

You have no idea how I feel

“I am angry.” she said, her voice bitter, her fingers running over the arch of her brow as she spoke.

“I’m so fucking angry I don’t know what to do with it...”

As if on cue, the sound of soft laughter drifted over from a nearby table. Y/N glanced to her left and caught sight of where it came from; a trio seated a few metres away, two girls and a guy. They were whispering to each other, their eyes darting towards her every few seconds. One of the girls leaned in to say something, and the guy snickered, not even bothering to hide his glance in her direction. Y/N’s jaw tightened. Topper’s brow furrowed as he noticed the sudden change in her body language. His gaze shifted to where hers had been moments earlier, landing on the trio and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. She turned back to Topper, but her mind was already elsewhere. The whispers, the glances- they crawled under her skin like insects, itching and burning until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“What?”

She called out suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the patio where they sat. The trio froze, their laughter dying instantly as the girl’s voice rang out.

“You’ve got something to say? Then say it.”

“Y/N…” Topper spoke out to her, but she ignored him, turning in her seat to face them completely, the group now looking at her in surprise. Her gaze locked on the three of them, and she raised her voice again.

“No? Nothing? Just gonna sit there and whisper like cunts?”

The two girls exchanged a glance, their cheeks flushing red eyes wide. One of them grabbed her bag, and the other quickly followed suit, not looking back. The guy hesitated, taking a sip of his whiskey, looking like he wanted to say something, but a single glare from Y/N sent him scrambling to his feet. Within moments, the three of them had disappeared inside the club, their table left empty. Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair with a huff.

Get the fuck out of here

Topper sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “You know they’re probably just bored, right? Gossip’s their only hobby.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N sighed out, “I’m not going to sit here and let them stare at me like I’m some kind of freak show.”

“You kind of just gave them one,”

He pointed out, grinning slightly. Her lips twitched, a small smile tugging on her lips as her hand came over the table to playfully shove his shoulder. Topper was mid-rant about the absurd price of Malibu boats when Kelce appeared at their table, holding another drink for Y/N. He set it down in front of her on the table, eyeing the girl with a teasing grin.

“You haven’t even finished that one yet,” he said, nodding toward the mostly untouched glass at her elbow. Y/N barely glanced at it, pushing it to the side with a small smile.

“I’m not that thirsty Kels.”

Kelce raised a brow, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated groan. “Not thirsty? What happened to you? You used to throw back five of these in, like, an hour.”

Her lips twitched in an almost-smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes as she forced a shrug.

“Okay well maybe I used to be an alcoholic-”

Kelce cut her off with a loud laugh tumbling past his lips, Topper snorted at her statement, shaking his head. “Right.”

“Uhuh, laugh it up,”

She muttered, not meeting their eyes. Her gaze flickered briefly to the untouched drink Kelce had brought, but the sight of it sent an uncomfortable shiver down her spine. She hadn’t been drunk since that night. Not once. Even the thought of losing control, of putting herself in a vulnerable state again, made her skin crawl. She’d never let herself feel that powerless again; but she didn’t say any of this to the guys. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms tightly over her chest like it might hold her swirling thoughts at bay. Kelce rolled his eyes,

“Whatever you say”

Y/N ignored him, pulling out her phone and unlocking the screen. She swiped idly through a few notifications, but her thoughts were elsewhere, caught on the gnawing disappointment she didn’t want to admit to herself. Topper noticed the shift immediately, once again; he seemed to have become awfully observant with the girl. He tilted his head slightly, watching her with a knowing look,

“He’s not coming.”

“Huh?”

“Rafe,” Topper said, placing his bottle down onto the table, “He’s not coming, he messaged me earlier.”

Her stomach dropped, but she forced her expression to stay neutral, brushing it off with a shrug, “That's fine- I didn’t expect him to come.”

Topper’s gaze softened, his voice dipping lower. “He didn’t want to upset you, Y/N. That’s why he didn't tel-.”

“I said it’s fine seriously”

She said again, this time a little sharper. She flicked her eyes back to her phone, scrolling aimlessly as though she had better things to focus on. But the truth was, she did care. She cared more than she wanted to admit. She hadn’t seen much of Rafe recently, not since everything had gone down in court. He’d been tied up with his community service, his probation, and God knows what else. And she… she hadn’t been able to bring herself to go out as much. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the whispers, the stares, or the fact that there was a possibility she might bump into Cooper, the world outside felt heavier now.

And Rafe not being there- it made it worse.

Kelce and Topper were talking again, their voices buzzing around her like background noise, but Y/N barely registered it. She stared at the drink Kelce had brought her, her reflection rippling faintly on the surface of the amber liquid. It wasn’t just about the alcohol. As Y/N took a sip from her drink, trying to get some semblance of normalcy back, Kelce’s phone buzzed yet again. He glanced at it, his lips curling into a knowing grin. Topper raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Seriously? Another message?”

Kelce rolled his eyes, tapping a quick reply. “Yeah, yeah. What do you want me to do?”

Y/N smirked and bumped her shoulder into the boys sitting next to her playfully. “You want that cookie so bad Kels- you’re whipped.”

“Whipped?!”

Kelce scoffed, looking up from his phone. “I’m not whipped. I’m... dedicated. You guys wouldn’t understand.”

Topper chuckled, crossing his arms. “Dedicated? You're in deep, man.”

“Oh, come on,” Kelce shot back, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation laughing at the two. “What, you two jealous because I’ve got a steady girl?”

Topper leaned in, grinning. “Jealous? Me? Nah. I’m just shocked you’re getting tied down. I’m living my best life.”

“Best life?” Kelce raised an eyebrow, eyes twinkling. “Yeah, right Topper, it’s called avoiding commitment.”

Y/N burst out laughing. “You’re both hopeless if I’m being honest.” As if on cue, both Kelce and Topper turned to her with identical looks of mock offence, and the girl looked momentarily surprised at their unplanned co-ordination.

“Right, because you’re such a relationship guru.”

Kelce quipped, narrowing his eyes playfully. Topper smirked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the arm rests of his chair, “Okay Ms. Expert, you’ve been dodging relationships like it’s a full-time job.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing despite herself, “Please, I’m just selective. There’s a difference.”

“Selective, huh?”

Kelce teased, leaning closer. “Is that what we’re calling it?” He exchanged a look with Topper before adding, “because if we’re being honest, you’re not all that selective when it comes to a certain someone.”

Y/N froze for a fraction of a second, her lip pressing together to avoid a smile from breaking out on her lips. She asked, feigning innocence, but her tone lacked conviction,

“I have no idea what you’re you talking about-”

“-Oh, come on, Y/N. We’re not blind, we see the way he looks at you.” Topper grinned at her as he teased her.

“And the way you look at him-”

Kelce added, smirking as he wiggled his eyes, he cut off his words with a wolf whistle directed at the girl. Y/N groaned, throwing her head back dramatically.

“You’re both ridiculous. There’s nothing going on. Besides, it's- ... complicated…”

“Complicated?” Kelce raised an eyebrow as he mimed air quotes around the word, shooting her an exaggeratedly sceptical look, “Sounds a lot like you’re avoiding the question.”

“Rafe practically worships the ground you walk on, and you’re out here calling it ‘complicated.’ ”

Topper agreed, he couldn't stop himself from pressing the subject further, his grin softening into something more genuine.

“Come on, Y/N. You’ve known each other for years. What are you so afraid of?”

Stop

Y/N froze, his words hitting her like a freight train. For once, she didn’t have a quick comeback or a sarcastic quip. Instead, she sat there, fingers lightly drumming against the table as her mind wandered. In this moment she realised he'd never told them- not Topper, not Kelce. They didn’t know about what happened in the hut. About the way he’d pulled away at the last second, leaving her reeling, confused, and- if she were being honest- extremely hurt. She assumed he would’ve told the boys, they were his best friends after all, yet now she was wondering if maybe he didn't tell them because he felt bad for her… did he not want to embarrass her poor judgement? The memory lingered, an ache she couldn’t quite shake. She realised she’d been silent too long when Topper raised an eyebrow at her.

“Y/N?”

He prompted, his tone softer now, curious. She forced a shrug, reaching for her drink to busy herself.

“I don’t know, Top,” she said finally, her voice quieter than she intended. “It’s just... complicated.”

Kelce groaned dramatically, throwing his hands down onto the table. “There it is again!” Topper’s eyes stayed on Y/N as he spoke. He wasn’t laughing anymore.

“I mean, Y/N, Rafe’s not some random guy. It’s Rafe. He’d never hurt you-”

“Okay, enough,”

Y/N said quickly, waving her hand at them. Her cheeks felt hot, burning, she swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. Topper’s words were meant to reassure her, but they only made her chest tighten.

“This conversation is over.”

Well there goes keeping your cool

The two boys quietened down at the girl’s sudden change in mood, realising thwy may have pushed her too far, but the tension was suddenly cut by Kelce’s phone intensely buzzing against the table again. Kelce laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back in his seat. “Phoebe’s coming to join us”

Y/N grabbed her drink, muttering under her breath, “You two are not real.”

The two boys just laughed, as Topper spoke up,“if you start bringing her every time we meet, we’re going to have to start charging a fee.”

Y/N smiled, placing her glass down, “If she can keep you in line, that’s a service I’d pay for.”

Kelce shot her a wink. “Well, don’t worry, Y/N. You’ll always be my number one girl- even if Phoebe’s around.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/N teased. “You keep telling yourself that, Kelce.”

The banter continued, easing the tension that had built up over the past few days. It wasn’t a fix-all, but it was a damn good distraction. Kelce cleared his throat, all their glasses now standing empty, his playful grin slipping away as the tone in the air shifted. He leaned forward slightly, his arms resting on the table. Topper and Y/N exchanged a quick glance, both sensing the change in his demeanor.

"Alright, jokes aside," Kelce began, his voice quieter now. "We need to talk."

Topper snorted, raising an eyebrow. "Don’t tell me you’re cheating on her, man."

Kelce shot him a sharp glare. “Shut the fuck up, Topper.”

Y/N raised her brows, her curiosity piqued. “What’s going on?”

For a moment, Kelce hesitated. He sighed, his eyes drifting over the tables around them, before focusing back on Y/N. His usual easygoing nature had completely vanished, replaced by something more solemn, more deliberate.

“I was talking to some guys down at the beach yesterday,” he started slowly, his voice lowering as if he was about to share something important. Y/N leaned in instinctively, feeling the weight of the moment.

“They were saying things… I mean I didn’t believe it at first, but you need to know.”

He continued, looking down at the table for a second before lifting his gaze to meet hers. Y/N frowned, sensing the heaviness in his words. She could tell it was something serious, “Okay, and what does this have to do with me?” she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral, though her insides churned. Kelce bit the inside of his cheek, clearly uncomfortable, but he pushed on.

“They were talking about why Cooper left New York last year…”

Y/N’s brow furrowed, her instincts screaming for him to stop, to not go down this road, to just leave it and go home, not to ruin a good night. But she couldn’t stop now. Not when he’d already begun,

“What do you mean? He said it was family business, didn’t he?”

“Well," Kelce hesitated, his voice lowering further. "Apparently, there were two other girls—different ones, from New York—who accused him of… well, you know.” He paused, searching for the right words.

“Sexual assault.”

What?

The words hit her like a brick to the chest, knocking the air from her lungs. Y/N’s breath caught, her mind struggling to process what she’d just heard.

“...what?”

She questioned, her voice a little shaky as she sucked a breath in, sharper than she intended.Kelce took a deep breath as he continued in a hushed voice.

“People are saying he left because of it, that he tried to cover it up. His family... they got involved, trying to make it all go away. They left for a while, layed low, and let the whole thing blow over.” He looked at Y/N, gauging her reaction carefully,

“...I’m just telling you what I heard.”

Y/N sat back in her chair, her hands gripping the edge of the table as if to steady herself. Her pulse quickened, and she could feel her mind reeling. She didn’t want to hear any of this- especially not now, not after everything Cooper had already done. She felt queasy but she couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or the new found uneasiness. She sat in stunned silence, the words Kelce had just said still reverberating in her mind. How was she supposed to react- what was she supposed to say? The room felt like it was closing in on her, the quiet pressing in on her chest.

“Is it true?”

She finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with disbelief. She met Kelce’s eyes, waiting for an answer she wasn’t sure she could even handle. Kelce didn’t look away. He simply nodded, his expression grim, heavy with the weight of what he was about to confirm.

“Yeah. I think it is- but I'm not sure.”

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat, her heart racing as she tried to digest the words, but they didn’t sit right with her. It didn’t make sense, yet it did. Everything was starting to fall into place, the way he avoided talking about New York, how he never introduced her to any of his old friends. Her mind was whirling, but there were no words for the storm inside her.

“Look,” Kelce began again, his voice softer now, “I wanted to tell you before you heard it from someone else. You deserve to know.”

. . .

“Yeah, um, thanks,”

Y/N shook her head, trying to dispel the swirling thoughts that were clouding her mind, she muttered, the words coming out stiff. She wasn’t sure if she was thanking him for the information, or for simply being the one to say it instead of randomly overhearing it, which would have made her feel even worse. She pushed back her chair, the scrape of it against the floor startling her in the sudden stillness of the moment.

“I think I’m going to head back-” she said, her voice faltering slightly as she fumbled for an excuse, “-I just remembered I promised my mom I’d help her with the flower arrangements for her charity event this Sunday,” she added, half to herself.

Topper and Kelce exchanged a look, both of them knowing full well she was lying, but neither of them called her out on it. They could see she wasn’t okay- she wasn’t even close to being okay, not for a while- but this wasn’t something they could push her on.

“Come on, I’ll drop you home,”

Topper said gently, standing up and offering her a small, understanding smile. Y/N shook her head, though the invitation was warm.

“You don’t have to-”

“Nah, c’mon. I don’t want to be the third wheel with Kelce and Phoebe anyways.”

He was already moving toward her, a playful grin now taking over his features as he cut her off teasingly. Y/N gave him a half-smile, nodding her head as she stood up.

“Thanks, Top.”

She turned toward Kelce, who was watching her quietly, his expression serious. She walked over and pulled him into a brief hug, trying to convey something unspoken through the gesture. When she pulled away, he looked at her, his expression softening with concern. He spoke, his voice much quieter now.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“-No, no, you didn’t upset me. I’m glad you told me.”

Y/N shook her head quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Kelce nodded, but he still looked worried. She nodded, back at him as she continued,

“Don’t worry about me, Kels. Enjoy the evening with your girl. Tell her I said hi.”

He gave her a small, understanding smile, then shot a glance at Topper. “Alright. Well, if you need anything.”

Y/N managed a faint smile before turning to Topper, who had his arm outstretched for her, a silent offer of support. She slipped her arm through his, feeling the weight of the evening starting to take its toll. Topper wrapped a friendly arm around her waist, giving her a gentle pat on the back.

“Let’s get you home.”

She gave him a faint nod, her heart heavy with everything she had just learned, everything she had yet to process. The thought of Cooper, of what he’d done not only to her- but to other women? It made the world around her feel dizzy. As they left the country club, Y/N’s mind was miles away, Topper’s soft rambling blurring in her ears.

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

Y/N sat on the cold bathroom floor, her back pressed against the wall, her head buried in her hands. She hadn’t even realised how fast the tears had started to fall until they were dripping down her face, mixing with the bitter taste of the vomit she had just expelled. Her stomach twisted in knots, the disgust still gnawing at her insides, even after everything had settled.

Fuck

She knew it was stupid to let a rumour, a whisper in the wind, make her feel so fucking broken. She wasn’t even sure if it was true. Yet somehow, it amplified everything that had been building up in her since the trial. The emptiness. The uncertainty. Cooper’s smirk still etched into her mind after the verdict was announced, and the weight of his actions felt like a suffocating fog that wouldn’t lift, no matter how many breaths she took.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to scrub away the aftertaste of bile and despair. Her phone buzzed on the floor beside her, sending a shiver through her. The sound was piercing in the stillness of the bathroom, and for a moment, she just stared at it, willing it to stop. It buzzed again, the screen lighting up with a name she hadn't expected to see,

Rafey

Her stomach tightened at the thought of him. She hadn’t seen him in days, not properly- only in fleeting moments between his community service shifts, or anger management classes. He’d been keeping his distance, but she couldn’t deny how much she missed him. It was... complicated. Everything was so fucking complicated.

She eyed the phone cautiously, her thumb hovering over the screen as she debated whether or not to open the message. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hear from him. She did. But with everything that had happened, with the weight of what she was processing, she wasn’t sure she could handle one more thing on her plate right now.

Rafey : You okay?

Rafey : You haven't replied to my texts.

The message was simple enough, but the way he asked, so direct and concerned, sent a ripple of warmth through her chest. But she hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to drag him further into this mess. What would he even say if he knew what was really going on in her head? She almost didn’t respond. But something about his message kept her glued to the screen.The phone buzzed again, snapping her from her thoughts.

Rafey : Just want to know you’re okay?

Y/N stared at her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen, unsure of what to type next. It felt like everything had been so difficult lately, and Rafe's message was the first real connection she'd had in days.

Angel : I’m good.

Angel : Helping mom organise some stuff

She read the message, pressing her lips together as she waited for him to reply. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a small bridge between them.

Rafey : That’s good

Angel : How was your service?

Rafey : Don’t wanna talk about it

Rafey : Tired of that shit.

Y/N sat back against the toilet seat, her heart heavy with guilt. If he’d never gotten involved in what happened between her and Cooper, he wouldn’t be stuck with this sentence. He wouldn’t have to endure the endless hours of community service, the stress, the constant reminders of his worthlessness from his father. The mess she'd dragged him into. She felt a sting in her chest.

Angel : I’m sorry

Rafey : Don’t be

Y/N sat there, her chest tight, as the seconds ticked by. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard again, and without thinking, her fingers moved on their own, typing out the words she’d been holding back for so long.

Angel : I miss you

Angel : I miss you so much

She stared at the message after sending it, her heart pounding in panic after she hit the send button. The little dots showed he was typing something.

Then they stopped.

She frowned, feeling the conversation slip back into that tense silence again, her eyes were stuck to the lit up screen of her phone, begging him to respond but nothing came. She could feel the lump slowly rising in her throat again.

No, no, no, no-

But a beat passed, and then suddenly his reply came.

Rafey : I miss you too angel

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She smiled, a small, sad smile, as she read his words. There was something so simple and yet so meaningful in them. Her fingers hovered again, wanting to say something else but unsure.

Then the phone buzzed again.

Rafey : Miss you every day

Y/N stared at the screen, she could feel the weight of the unspoken between them. She wanted to respond, to keep the conversation going, but for now, all she could do was sit there and stare at the screen, her smile turning sad as her mind drew her back to what Kelce had told her.

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

The sun was starting to set, casting a soft golden hue over the apartment as Y/N moved around the kitchen. The scent of garlic and herbs filled the air as she arranged plates and silverware on the table, her hands moving with a kind of routine that helped calm her racing thoughts. She wasn’t sure why she’d decided to invite the guys over. Maybe it was the tension of the past week- maybe she just wanted something normal, something that felt like a distraction from the storm in her head.

She placed the last glass on the table and stepped back to survey the scene. The table was set simply- nothing extravagant, just a warm and inviting arrangement. Y/N ran a hand through her hair, sighing lightly as she wiped her hands on her pink apron. She could hear the faint hum of the oven in the background, the dinner nearly ready.

As she adjusted the napkins, her phone buzzed from the counter. She glanced over at it, catching the name flashing across the screen.

Young Rich & Sexy

T-man : You’re not gonna believe it Y/N

Kels : We’re already on our way

T-man : Left 10 minutes ago

Angel : What?

Angel : You guys are early???

Angel : Now that’s a miracle

T-man : We decided to give you a surprise

Rafey : I'm 10 minutes away too

Angel : Rafe don’t text and drive, please

Rafey : I’m a professional

Kels : and me

Angel : …

Kels : fr?

Angel : boy idgaf

Kels : right

T-man : he’s literally swerving as we speak

Kels : anyway

Kels : HELL YEAH GIMME SOME FOOD

Angel : FATTYYYY

T-man : You two need to stop spending all your time on TikTok

T-man : You’re losing brain cells

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. She set the phone down, looking at the table once more. There was something almost surreal about it—this dinner, this small moment of peace amid the chaos. She hadn’t seen Rafe much lately with his community service, and there were still so many unspoken things between them, but having him here tonight felt like a small step forward. She checked the oven one more time and then hurried to tidy up a bit more- just a few stray dishes, a stray fork here and there. She didn’t want to be caught off-guard when the guys arrived.

Y/N heard the doorbell ring and quickly wiped her hands on her apron, making her way to the front door with a small smile. She hadn’t realised how much she needed the company until now. The sound of laughter and chatter from the group of friends outside was already enough to ease some of the tension that had been lingering in her chest for days. When she swung open the door, there was Kelce, grinning like an idiot. He immediately leaned in with a playful wink and said, his voice smooth as ever,

“What’s cooking, good looking?”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her head tilting back slightly as she placed her hands on her hips, giving him an unimpressed look. Before she could respond, Topper walked in right behind him, his smirk matching the playful tone in the room.

“He’s been practicing that for the past ten minutes.”

Kelce playfully punched Topper in the arm, “Not cool, man, that was supposed to stay between us!”

Y/N shook her head, still smiling, as she stepped aside to let them in. They all trooped inside, Kelce and Topper bickering lightheartedly, but Y/N’s attention flickered past them to Rafe, who had been trailing behind the others. He was standing in the doorway now, his eyes meeting hers in that brief, still moment.

. . .

The space between them felt charged, like everything was suddenly up in the air, neither of them sure how to step back into this dynamic they’d shared before everything had gone wrong. But Rafe was the first to break the silence, his voice quiet but warm.

“Hey.”

“Hey” Y/N replied, her voice soft, a little unsure. She stepped aside to let him in, the faintest flutter in her chest at the sight of him.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

Rafe’s gaze softened, and he nodded, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand as they stood close together. “Yeah. Just... been a long week. Glad to be here.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten at the sight of him. She didn’t know why but without thinking, she stepped forward, and before either of them could second-guess it, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

Oh-

Rafe hesitated for a second before his arms enveloped her, pulling her in close.

For a long, quiet moment, neither of them said anything. It was just the two of them, standing there in the doorway, holding each other. She could feel his breath on her hair, his arms a little tighter around her than usual. Neither of them was in a rush to let go, neither wanted to break this simple connection they’d been craving for so long.

“Cmon Y/n, a man's gotta eat!”

Seriously?

Kelces voice rang out with an exasperated sigh. Reluctantly, Y/N pulled away slightly, looking up at Rafe with a smile as they walked through the house to the guys in the kitchen . Y/N rolled her eyes, smirking at Kelce.

“I’m not making anyone wait. Go sit down your ungrateful ass down and I’ll bring everything out in a sec.”

Kelce immediately walked off from the kitchen into the connected dining room causing the girl to let out an amused scoff as he dropped into one of the chairs, his movements as if he’d just arrived at the world’s greatest feast. Topper spoke,

“Alright well, I’m ready to eat my weight in whatever you’ve got cooking.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his words, the boy carrying off some plates with him as he left. She headed to the stove to check on the food one last time, feeling a little lighter with each passing moment. As she adjusted the heat, she heard Rafe’s footsteps behind her. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the counter, watching her.

“You did all this yourself?”

He asked, his voice almost low, as if the question was both casual and somehow loaded at the same time. Y/N shrugged, trying to play it off cool.

“It’s no big deal. I like cooking.”

Rafe smiled, his eyes scanning the spread she’d prepared. There was something about the way he looked at her—an appreciation, a recognition that she was doing this for them, for him. She wasn’t sure if it was the tiredness from the day or the sheer comfort of their usual rapport, but her heart seemed to settle a little.

“Well, it smells amazing…”

He said, his voice steady. Y/N caught the way his gaze lingered on the dishes, eyes narrowing slightly. It wasn’t just the usual appreciation. No, this was different. Rafe’s eyes flicked from one pan to the other and then back to the food with a subtle sense of recognition, like he was trying to place the scent.

“Wait-”

Is that. . . ?

He trailed off, unsure whether to finish the question. Y/N gave a small nod of her head, trying to remain casual, though she could see the look of disbelief creeping into his expression.

“Um, yeah... I thought you could use some right now.”

She shrugged. Rafe stared at her for a moment, lips slightly parted, as though he couldn’t quite understand how she’d known. The dish- a comforting, aromatic smell with a richness that he hadn’t realised he missed- was something his mom used to make all the time. Something familiar and warm, a little taste of home he hadn’t realised he'd been longing for. It had always been the kind of meal she’d cook when he needed grounding, when everything else in his life felt too unpredictable.

“How- how did you remember that?”

I remember everything you've ever told me about you

He asked, his voice almost incredulous, his gaze locking onto hers as though she’d just hung the stars in the sky.

Y/N smiled softly, a touch of warmth spreading through her chest. “When you’d talk about your mum sometimes, you mentioned it. I don't know... it felt like the right thing to do.”

Rafe blinked, clearly moved by the simplicity of her gesture. It wasn’t just the food- it was the thought behind it. The fact that she’d listened, that she’d paid attention, and remembered the small things about him, things he hadn’t even realised he still held dear. They brushed against each other lightly, his hand grazing hers where it rested on the counter, the contact innocent enough, but it lingered in a way that made her pulse quicken. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Their shoulders brushed again, a small touch that felt intimate Before she could think too much about it, Y/N gestured towards the table.

“Let’s get them fed before Kelce blows up.”

Rafe chuckled, his gaze softening as he gave her a nod, “Lead the way.”

As the others settled into the dining room, the atmosphere lightened, the earlier tension of the week drifting away. Yet, for Y/N and Rafe, there was something more, something unspoken. It was the way they looked at each other when no one else was paying attention, the way their hands nearly brushed again, but neither of them reached out.

The plates were empty now, save for a few crumbs and remnants of sauce, the table was littered with empty glasses that had once held wine and water. The soft clink of ice in glasses and the occasional burst of laughter filled the room, creating an atmosphere that felt warm and easy, like the kind of evening that could stretch on forever. Y/N leaned back in her chair, a satisfied hum slipping from her lips as she glanced around the table. The food had been a success, and the company even more so. Rafe sat across from her, his usual intense, guarded expression softened by the easy chatter that had flowed between them throughout the night. He was laughing now, his head tipped back, eyes crinkling at the corners in genuine amusement. Topper, ever the troublemaker, had just finished cracking a joke, and they all burst into laughter. Once the laughter died down, Rafe, grinning, sat back with his drink, his eyes on Y/N, a playful glint in his eyes.

"You know, I still remember when you tried to make that lasagna when we were kids," Rafe said, a smirk forming on his lips. Y/N furrowed her brows, not sure where he was going with this. She blinked at him,

“What are you talking about?"

"Come on, you were like... what, 11? And you insisted you could cook for everyone," Rafe teased, leaning forward slightly. "You were so proud of it. You said you were going to make a ‘real’ lasagna like the ones your mom made."

Y/N’s eyes widened in realisation. "Oh my god, don’t remind me. That thing was so bad" she laughed, rubbing her forehead at the memory. "It was burnt on the edges and gooey in the middle, and I made everyone eat it anyway."

"I can’t believe made us eat it"

Topper chimed in, grinning wickedly. "And I’m pretty sure you cried when I said it was... well... an acquired taste." He burst into laughter, and Y/N shot him a playful glare. Kelce spoke up placing his glass back down onto the table,

“Man you said it was shit” The guys laughed at Y/n as she shook her head at them, a wide smile on her lips. She protested, her voice light-hearted,

"I was trying to impress you guys!"

Well you impressed me

Rafe spoke up, tone softening. "And I’ve never seen you so determined about anything in my life. Even if it did end up looking like-."

"-Hey! I was 11," she said, throwing her hands up in mock defence as she rolled her eyes. "Give me a break."

"Honestly, I don’t know how you thought that burnt mess was a ‘proper’ lasagna," Topper said, still chuckling. "But you were all in so, points for effort."

Rafe grinned, then added, "But the funniest part was that we all ate it because you asked so nicely. Even when we were pretty sure we’d end up with food poisoning."

Y/N laughed, her cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment of the memory, but there was something comforting about the way they reminisced, as though they were all back in that childhood space, where nothing mattered more than getting through the day with each other.

"You guys are lucky I never tried cooking again after that," she said with a smirk, crossing her arms. "It was years before I attempted to make anything again."

"Well, thank God," Kelce teased, "or we’d be stuck with another shitty lasagna."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face didn’t fade. "Yeah, yeah," she said, her voice warm, almost fond. She looked at the empty plates on the table and started thinking about how she should start clearing the table when Rafe suddenly stood up, grabbing his empty plate.

"No, no, leave it,"

Y/N called out, quickly protesting against his actions. "I’ll do them later. Seriously, you’re my guest, Rafe. Let me do it."

But Rafe wasn’t having it. He grabbed another plate, shaking his head as he stacked them up, lifting them in his hands. "I’m not letting you do it by yourself" he said, voice firm.

"Rafael Alexander Cameron, sit down right now."

That was hot...

Shut up

Y/N’s words were sharp, and she stood up from where she sat opposite him, hands on her hips as she stared at him with a small frown on her brow. For a second, Rafe just stared at her, clearly amused. But before he could argue back, Topper and Kelce burst out laughing from the living room.

"Oooohhh, full government name, man!"

Topper cackled, leaning back in her chair. Rafe shot him a glare, his mouth twitching into a grin despite himself. "Seriously?" he muttered, but he was clearly trying not to laugh too. Kelce, still snickering, raised his glass and chimed in,

"She’s not messing around Rafe."

Y/N shot a playful smile over to Kelce, before turning back to Rafe, arms folded. "Sit. Down. You’re my guest, and I’m doing the dishes. End of story."

Rafe rolled his eyes, but there was no arguing with her. He slowly sank back down into his seat with a small sigh, his eyes never leaving hers. "Fine," he muttered.

"But next time, I’m taking the plates."

Y/N grinned, victorious. "Next time, I’ll make sure we have pizza, just so you can put the boxes in the trash."

Topper and Kelce both groaned. "That’s cheating!" Kelce said with a laugh, dramatically throwing his hands up.

"I don’t care," Y/N shrugged, grinning at them. Rafe leaned back in his chair, watching her as she turned back to the sink. "You’re lucky I like you," he said quietly, though there was a teasing edge to his voice. Y/N glanced over her shoulder at him, shaking her head.

"Don’t make me regret letting you eat my food."

"Too late for that," Rafe teased, catching her eye with a smile that made her heart skip.

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

Time had slipped by in comfortable conversation, the laughter still lingering in the air as Topper and Kelce made their way to the front door, grabbing their jackets. Y/N lingered in the hallway, watching them, feeling contentment. The night had been easy, almost like old times, but now that it was winding down, there was a small sense of unease creeping in.

Did I shut the window in my room. . . ?

"Thanks again for dinner, Y/N," Kelce said with a grin, his hand already on the door handle.

"You’ve been promoted to best cook I know- well, next to my mom, of course."

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing. "Uh-huh, sure. It was pretty simple, but I’ll take the compliment."

"Don’t be modest," Topper added, giving her a playful wink. "That was a five-star meal, seriously if you ever invest in a restaurant, let me know. I’ll be your first customer."

Y/N laughed again, but she felt something tugging in her chest. The house was starting to feel a bit quieter, emptier now that her parents had gone on a business trip and the boys were getting ready to leave. She shifted on her feet, eyes flicking to Rafe, who was standing by the couch, casually leaning against the wall, arms folded. As Kelce and Topper said their goodbyes, Y/N hesitated for a moment, then turned to Rafe. She could feel her pulse quicken, though she wasn’t sure why.

Ask him-

"Hey, uh…" she started, trying to sound casual. "D’you wanna stay a little longer? It’s just I- don’t really like being home alone…"

Rafe’s expression softened immediately, his eyes flicking from her face to the door, then back to her. "Yeah, if you want me to, Angel." He sent her a small smile, Y/N’s chest warmed at the words. She offered him a small, grateful smile.

"Yes please."

Kelce and Topper exchanged a quick look as they made their way to the door, and then they both turned back to her with their signature playful energy.

"Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, yeah?" Topper grinned, giving Rafe a wink before he turned over to Y/n.

Dick

"Catch you later, Y/N."

Kelce followed suit, pulling her into a quick, friendly hug patting Rafe on the back with a suggestive look, flashing him a teasing grin as he pulled away. As the door closed behind them, the silence settled in. The atmosphere shifted a little, the weight of the quiet filling the space, but it felt different with Rafe still there. She turned to him, her voice softer now.

"Thanks for staying Rafey."

Rafe just gave her a warm, easy smile, the house felt quieter now, but not in a bad way. She glanced over at Rafe, who was already heading towards the kitchen, his casual stance making him look right at home.

"Come on," she said, "Let’s get these dishes out of the way before I lose my motivation."

Rafe smirked, following her into the kitchen, his hands already moving to gather up the empty plates. "You’re just trying to avoid doing the hard part by getting me to do it,. Is that why you asked me to stay hmm?"

Y/N chuckled as she began rinsing the plates, the sound of water running filling the space. "Maybe. I’ve never been great with dishes. But you know what? I think I deserve a break after cooking for you guys."

"Fair point."

He set to work drying the plates with a towel, his movements efficient but relaxed. It was strange- this kind of peaceful, mundane domesticity- something she hadn’t realised she missed. They were just two people, doing something as simple as washing dishes, but in a way it felt comforting, grounding.

"So, how’s your week been?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him as she wiped down a plate. "Any trouble with the um... community service?"

Rafe sighed, lifting a plate to dry it with exaggerated care. "It’s shit," he muttered, half-smiling. "I’d rather be anywhere else."

"... it’s better than sitting in jail?"

That was the worse thing you could've said

She smiled softly at that, her gaze lingering on him. There was something about his frustration, the way it came out in small bursts like this, that made her realise how much he had to give up—how much he was changing, just to make things right. Rafe looked up from his work, his eyes meeting hers for a moment, softening.

"Yeah. I guess. I mean, you know, it helps that I have a good... um, a good reason to push through."

Why did you say that!?

Y/N’s stomach fluttered slightly at his words, her scrubbing at the dishes slowing down. She wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion from the night but there was something about the way he looked at her, like maybe they were on the same page for the first time in a while.

The quiet continued, comfortable, with the soft sounds of clinking dishes and the low hum of the kitchen light. She was focusing on the task at hand, but she couldn’t help stealing glances at Rafe. He was standing so close, just in his own element, drying plates and listening to her talk.

"Thanks for sticking around," she said suddenly, her voice quieter now. "I know this is probably the last thing you wanted to do… stay at my place and help me with dishes."

Rafe met her gaze, his smile softening, and he shook his head. "No- it’s... nice. I like being here, with you. You make it... feel normal again, you know?"

I wish it was normal again

Y/N paused, his words settling between them. She wasn’t sure why, but the simplicity of them hit her harder than she expected and she turned her back to him for a moment, pretending to scrub a dish a little harder than necessary.

"Yeah," she murmured, "I get that."

The rhythm of washing and drying dishes continued, the sounds of water running and plates clinking blending into the background. But Y/N couldn’t shake the thought that had been swirling in her mind for hours now. She couldn’t keep pretending like everything was fine, like Rafe was just... okay with all of this.

With her.

She placed the plate in her hands down a little harder than necessary, her breath catching for a second before she spoke up, her voice small.

“Rafe, I... I’m sorry I pulled you into all of this.”

She glanced over at him, her chest tight as she tried to gather the right words.

“I mean, this whole thing with Cooper and then taking him to court. And now you’re stuck doing this shitty community service because of me. I—" She shook her head, feeling that familiar weight of guilt press on her shoulders. "If I could go back, I wouldn’t have done it. I wouldn’t have made you a part of any of this.”

There was a beat of silence, and her heart hammered in her chest. It felt like she had to say it, though. To get it out there, to finally apologise for everything she felt responsible for. But before she could continue, Rafe cut her off, his voice firm, but full of that comfort he always seemed to give her without even trying.

“Hey, c'mon- don’t do this”

He said, looking at her with a soft but serious expression. He set the plate he was drying back down and stepped a little closer to her, reaching out gently to touch her arm.

“It’s not your fault Y/n. None of this is on you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, her voice catching as she looked up at him, feeling the weight of the emotions she couldn’t quite keep in check.

“But-”

“-No”

Rafe interrupted, his eyes steady as he held her gaze. “Listen to me. This? It’s not on you. I’m doing this because I have to, yeah, it's a little shitty but I’m not doing it because of you, or because of some mess you dragged me into. I’m doing it because I want to make things right.”

She could feel her throat tighten, the words she had wanted to say now trapped. “I just feel like-"

“Y/N,” Rafe said her name softly, stepping even closer now, his voice lower and more intense.

“Stop blaming yourself. I don’t want you to carry this weight. It’s not yours to carry.”

I know

She felt a lump form in her throat, the reassurance she’d been needing finally coming from him. She wanted to protest, but she knew, deep down, that he was right. “I’m sorry,” she whispered after a pause, trying to blink away the tears that had gathered at the edges of her eyes.

“I just... I don’t want you to hate me for this.”

Hate you- ?

Rafe shook his head, his hand coming up to her face, thumb brushing lightly over the tear that had dropped down her cheek.

"I could never hate you."

His voice was low, steady, and certain, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Y/N allowed herself to let go of that constant worry gnawing at her.

“You don’t have to apologise for anything, okay? I’m here for you. And I always will be.”

The sincerity in his voice hit her harder than she expected, and for a moment, she just stood there, letting his words sink in. The quiet between them was heavy with emotion, and all Y/N could do was nod, fighting the urge to bury her face in his chest, but holding herself back for fear of overwhelming him. Rafe took a slow step back, giving her a little space, but his eyes never left hers.

“I’m serious, you don’t owe me an apology. We’re in this together, yeah?”

Y/N managed a small smile, her chest loosening just a fraction. “Yeah... together.”

“Good,” Rafe said, offering her that same soft smile. “Now cut out the distractions and finish those dishes”

She rolled her eyes, smile tugging at her lips. The last of the dishes were finally put away, and Y/N let out a small sigh of relief, wiping her hands on the dish towel. She turned to the table, where the remnants of their meal still sat- half-empty glasses, scattered napkins, a few crumbs left behind from the bread.

"Okay," she said, glancing at Rafe. "I'm going to move onto the table now."

Rafe, who had already started wiping his hands on a towel, nodded, shooting her a small, knowing smile. "Alright. I’ll be back in a minute. I need to use the bathroom."

Y/N gave him a quick nod, watching him as he turned to head out of the kitchen. She heard his footsteps retreating down the hall, the sound of the bathroom door closing gently behind him. For a moment, she stood there, looking at the table, unsure of where to start. It was always the little tasks that seemed the most mundane but were oddly soothing to her.

She grabbed the dishes one by one, stacking them up on the table, looking around at the surface deciding what to do next. The quiet of the house wrapped around her, but it didn’t feel heavy this time. Rafe’s presence lingered like a quiet warmth, and she found herself smiling softly, letting her thoughts drift. Y/N’s fingers paused in their movements as her phone buzzed from the edge of the table. She glanced over at it, instinctively reaching for it, her eyes immediately narrowing at the name flashing across the screen.

Hale.

Huh?

The lawyer who had represented her in the case against Cooper. She picked up the phone, her heart already starting to race as she unlocked it and opened the message. Her thumb hovered over the screen, reading the text in the dim light.

Y/N,

I hope this message finds you well, though I wish I were writing under better circumstances. After careful consideration and discussions with your parents, they’ve expressed that it’s best I’m the one to share this news with you directly.

Following a thorough review of the case and new information that has recently come to light, it’s become clear there were significant irregularities during the trial. Most notably, we’ve discovered that a considerable number of the jurors were brought in from New York- where the Miller family has influence. This raises serious concerns about the impartiality of the verdict, as it suggests the process may have been compromised.

Additionally, two individuals from New York have come forward with allegations against Cooper, detailing experiences eerily similar to what you endured. Their testimony, along with authenticating evidence, suggests a pattern of behaviour that casts further doubt on the fairness of the original trial.

With this in mind, we are formally requesting the reopening of your case. While this decision is not one I take lightly, I strongly believe that these new developments deserve the full weight of legal examination.

I understand how overwhelming and painful this must be to hear, and I want to assure you that I will do everything I can to assure we get a verdict that is right. I will be in touch with updates as soon as I have them. In the meantime, please don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything, whether it’s clarity on the process or just someone to talk to.

You’ve already shown so much strength, Y/N, and I deeply regret that you’re being asked to find it once more.

Warm regards,

Charlotte Hale

Her heart pounded in her chest, a bitter mix of confusion and a deep-seated frustration swirling together. Y/N’s fingers trembled as she placed the phone back on the table, her gaze lingering on the screen as if she couldn’t fully process what she had just read. The words felt like a slap, a reminder of everything that had been taken from her. The case that she had fought so hard for, the justice she had convinced herself was possible, was now wrapped up in layers of corruption and bias she couldn’t ignore.

The case reopened?

Her heart hammered in her chest as the anger began to rise. It wasn’t just disbelief now. It was fury- sharp and biting, gnawing at her insides. She had poured everything into this, had trusted the system, trusted the people she thought wanted to do right. And now this.

The verdict wasn’t fair?

She had been so close. So close to getting the closure she needed. And now… now, she didn’t even know if she could trust anything anymore.

This isn’t fair

Her mind kept replaying the way Cooper had walked out of that courtroom, free, smug, like it had all been a game to him. And now, this. The truth. It felt like a cruel joke- one that she had been too naïve to see through. The weight of the phone on the table seemed to mock her now, a symbol of how little control she had in this whole mess. Y/N’s chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, her mind a storm of thoughts she couldn’t process fast enough. Anger burned through her veins, a fire that had been simmering for so long, and now it was finally exploding. She could feel it- hot, blistering rage, every part of her body trembling with it.

She stared at the phone, her vision blurring, anger twisting in her chest like a fist. It was all a setup. All of it. She had been the fool, who thought she would win the case because he was being truthful. Without thinking, her hand shot out, grabbing the glass in front of her. The crystal was cold and smooth in her grip. She squeezed it so hard her fingers burned, knuckles white.

In one furious motion, she hurled it across the room.

The glass shattered against the wall with a sickening crack, fragments scattering like sharp confetti. The sound of it felt almost like a release.

But it wasn’t enough.

Her breath hitched as she turned, her gaze wild, she grabbed the next thing within reach- a plate, its ceramic cold and fragile under her fingertips. With a force she didn’t know she had, she threw it, sending it hurtling toward the floor where it shattered in a loud, jarring explosion. The sound echoed through the room like the breaking of everything she had worked for, everything she had trusted.

The anger surged again, unstoppable. Her hand shot out once more, knocking over her wine glass, sending the red liquid splashing across the table, staining the cloth beneath. She didn’t care. She was shaking, tears hot and angry as they rolled down her face, mixing with the fury that refused to dissipate. She knocked over another plate, hearing it shatter on impact. She felt no relief. She was beyond that now.

More glass.

More plates.

Her hands were raw from the force with which she threw each object, but it didn’t matter. She could hear the cracks and shattering as the world she thought she knew disintegrated in front of her, and the only thing she could do was rage against it.

“WHAT THE FUCK-”

She screamed out as she sent another glass flying, this one hitting the wall with such force it burst into tiny, jagged pieces, some of the hitting against her clothing.

She could hardly breathe anymore. Her heart pounded, a wild drumbeat in her chest, she wiped at the tears blurring her vision, angry that she was even crying. But the weight of it, the crushing feeling of being tricked, being lied to, was too much.

The table and the floor surrounding it was now a mess of broken glass and scattered debris. Her hands trembled, her pulse racing, but she was still moving- throwing, smashing, letting it all spill out in the only way she knew how.

Her breathing was frantic, her chest tightening as her body shook with the force of the emotions that had been building up. This wasn’t just about Cooper. This wasn’t just about the case. It was about feeling small, helpless, like nothing she did could ever change the outcome. She was drowning in it.

The sound of crashing glass echoed through the house, a juxtaposition to the tranquility that lingered moments before. Rafe’s head snapped up from the bathroom doorway as the sharp noises rang in his ears. His heartbeat quickened, and before he could even process it, his feet were carrying him down the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The sight that greeted him when he reached the dining room made him stop dead in his tracks.

Shit

Y/N stood in the middle near the table, surrounded by the wreckage of shattered glass, ceramic and scattered debris. Her breathing was ragged, each intake of air coming in harsh, shallow bursts. She was shaking, her hands trembling at her sides, the furious anger that had consumed her only moments before now replaced with a hollow, devastated kind of exhaustion.

For a long moment, Rafe stood frozen in the doorway, his heart racing. He had never seen her like this- there was nothing left of the composed girl he’d seen all night. He stepped forward cautiously, his footsteps tentative as he moved through the mess of broken glass and spilled wine.

“Y/N…”

Talk to me please

He called softly, but she didn’t react, her gaze fixed on the floor as she stood amidst the destruction, the room echoing with the remnants of her rage. She didn’t even seem to register him at first, her body trembling uncontrollably, her face a mask of anger and pain. Rafe’s stomach clenched at the sight, his instincts kicking in. He didn’t even think about it as he moved forward to her. Slowly, her gaze lifted to meet his, her tear-filled eyes searching his face as if she were seeing him for the first time.

“Everything was a set up”

She choked out, the words broken and uneven as she sobbed. Rafe’s breath caught,

“What do you mean… what’s going on?”

She didn’t answer him. Instead, she took a shaky step forward, stumbling slightly before she collapsed into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her to his chest, and she melted against him, the sobs wracking her frame.

“Y/N, talk to me”

Rafe urged, his voice tight with confusion and concern. He could feel the shaking in her body, the way her entire being seemed to tremble with everything she was holding in.

“What do you mean it was a set up angel?”

“The case… The jury… It was all rigged, Rafe… They knew Cooper’s family… It wasn’t fair…”

She tried to speak but could barely get the words out. Her voice cracked, and her tears soaked into the fabric of his clothing, her body trembling violently as if the weight of it all was too much to hold. As Y/N continued to cling to him, Rafe’s gaze dropped to her hands. The sight made his stomach turn- her palms were covered in small, jagged cuts, blood trickling from the shards of glass that had embedded themselves in her skin.

“Shit”

He muttered, his voice low with urgency but he didn’t react to his words. Rafe didn’t hesitate. Slowly, carefully, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her body against his chest, her shaky form against him. She didn’t fight it; she just let him move her, her head resting against his shoulder, her sniffles filling the otherwise quiet air.

“C’mon”

He mumbled, gently guiding them to the kitchen. He sat her down on the counter, his hands on her waist as he steadied her. She looked at him, eyes still red and puffy, but she didn’t say anything. There were no words left in her, just the quiet sound of her sobs and the air between them. Rafe turned on the tap, running water over his hands, the cool stream contrasting sharply with the heat in the room. He grabbed a rag, wringing it out before gently dabbing it against her hands. The wet cloth was soothing against the cuts, and he could tell by the way she flinched slightly that it hurt, but she didn’t protest.

The silence between them was heavy, only broken by the soft sound of her sniffling as he carefully wiped the blood from her skin. He worked in silence, his focus entirely on her, on making sure she was okay, even though he didn’t have the answers to the mess she was feeling.

He stood between her open legs, his body close enough that he could hear every hitch in her breath, every tremble that ran through her limbs. His hands were gentle but firm as he continued to clean the cuts on her palms, brushing away the remaining chips of glass with careful fingers.

“I’m sorry”

Why are you sorry?

She whispered suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was raw, cracked, and her eyes were glazed over, lost in something he couldn’t reach, and they were locked on his hands, orking against her sore palms. Rafe shook his head, not looking up at her.

“It’s okay.”

No its not there's something wrong with me

She didn’t respond, just continued to sniffle quietly, the tears still slipping down her cheeks. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the unease swirling in his chest. He focused on her hands, on the delicate, small movements of his fingers as he finished cleaning them, his thumb gently brushing against the skin of her wrist. Y/N’s eyes met his gaze filled with so many emotions- grief, anger, exhaustion.

When he finished, he put the rag down, his hands resting lightly on her knees, his fingers gently brushing over her skin. For a moment, they just stayed like that- silent, still- before he lifted his eyes to hers, his expression soft.

“Better?”

She nodded slowly, her gaze shifting away from him, though her hands were still in her lap, the cuts visible, but the bleeding stopped for now.

“Thank you.”

She said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Rafe gave her a small nod, he wanted to say more, wanted to tell her everything would be okay, but he knew those words wouldn’t be enough, it wasn’t a promise he could make. Instead, he let the silence hang between them, letting her breathe, letting her process everything that had happened.

Yet deep down, he promised himself that no matter what, he’d be there for her- just like before.

Rafe set the damp cloth down on the counter, his fingers brushing against her knee as he took a step back. He looked at her, still perched on the counter, her hands now bandaged but trembling slightly in her lap. Her eyes were downcast, the weight of the evening still pulling her shoulders down like she was carrying it all alone.

“Let’s get you upstairs- you need to rest…”

He said gently, his voice soft but firm. Y/N shook her head weakly, her gaze flickering toward the mess in the dining room.

“I need to… to clean up. I can’t—”

I can't believe I did that. . .

“-hey,” Rafe cut her off, stepping closer again, his voice low but steady.

“No, you don’t. I’ll take care of it, but you need to stop Y/N. Let me take care of you.”

Her lips parted, like she wanted to argue, but nothing came out. She was too tired, too drained to fight him, even if the guilt of leaving the mess weighed on her. She barely had time to process before his hands were under her thighs, effortlessly lifting her off the counter. A small, surprised breath escaped her, but she didn’t resist, her body instinctively curling into his, her legs subconsciously wrapping around his hips. Her head rested against his shoulder, tucked into the crook of his neck, and she felt the soft scratch of his shirt against her cheek. One arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders while the other rested against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric for support.

“I’ve got you”

Rafe murmured, his voice steady and reassuring as he adjusted his grip on her. The warmth of his voice and the solidness of his hold made something in her chest ease, just a fraction. She pushed her face slightly further against his neck, her breath warm and shallow against his skin. Rafe carried her up the stairs like she weighed nothing, each step slow and measured, his arms secure around her. The house was quiet, save for the soft creak of the stairs beneath his feet and the faint rustle of her hair against his shoulder.

When they reached her bedroom, Rafe pushed the door open with his foot and stepped inside, careful not to jostle her. He gently set her down onto the bed, her head sinking into the plush pillow as she let out a small hum. He moved carefully, as though afraid he might shatter the fragile calm that had settled over the room. Leaning down, he grabbed the edge of the duvet and pulled it over her, tucking it around her slightly with care.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his eyes flickering over her face. She looked worn out, her cheeks flushed from the tears she’d shed, but there was something softer about her now. Her gaze lifted to meet his, and he felt himself freeze under the weight of it.

“You okay?”

He asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. She hummed softly in response, her eyelids heavy but still watching him. Rafe swallowed hard, forcing himself to straighten. His hand, which had been resting on her arm over the covers, lingered for a second too long before he pulled it back.

“Alright, I’ll, uh…” He stepped back, clearing his throat as he tried to give her space. “I’ll let you rest. Just—” Before he could move further, her fingers reached out, gently wrapping around his hand. Her voice was soft, hesitant, but it stopped him in his tracks.

“Can you stay…?”

Please don't say no

Rafe blinked, caught off guard by her request. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he nodded slowly, his voice tentative,

“Yeah… yeah, I can sit here.”

He gestured toward the floor next to the bed, already moving to lower himself, but her voice stopped him again.

“No, can you…” She trailed off, her gaze darting away briefly before returning to his.

“Can you sit on the bed?”

On the bed?

Rafe stilled, unsure for a moment. He hesitated, his mind racing- he didn’t want to overstep, didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. But the look in her eyes was enough to convince him.

“Okay”

He responded softly, nodding again. He moved around to the other side of the bed and sat down cautiously on the edge, leaving space between them. His weight shifted the mattress slightly as, but he kept his distance, his back pressed against the headboard, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

She nestled deeper into the pillow, her breathing evening out just a little as the tension began to drain from her frame. Y/n was on her side, her back to him, her figure curled slightly beneath the duvet. Her breathing was slow and even now, and for a moment, he thought she might’ve fallen asleep. He let himself relax just a little, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. But then her soft voice broke the silence.

“Rafe?”

His head tilted forward immediately, his focus snapping back to her.

“Yeah?”

His voice was quiet, laced with concern. There was a pause, and he watched the subtle rise and fall of her back as she inhaled shakily.

“Can you come a little closer?”

She asked, her voice quiet. Rafe froze. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her right. He blinked, his heart picking up speed in his chest.

Move closer?

“Are you sure?”

He asked softly, cautious. He didn’t want to move if she wasn’t completely comfortable. She nodded, her head shifting slightly against the pillow.

“Please…”

She whispered, her voice cracking just a little. That single word unraveled him. Swallowing hard, he shifted carefully, inching closer to her, he slid fully onto the bed now, sitting up with his back against the headboard, a few inches away from her.

She didn’t move right away, her back still turned to him. But he could see her shoulders rising and falling, her breaths uneven, like she was fighting to hold herself together. He hesitated, staying on top of the covers. His eyes lingered on her back, on the way her figure seemed so small, so fragile in the dim light of the room.

He cared for her so deeply it almost hurt.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched, save for her soft breaths and the occasional rustle of fabric as she shuffled slightly. He didn’t move any closer, didn’t touch her, but his presence was steady, grounding. And even with her back to him, he didn’t look away, his heart aching for her in ways he couldn’t quite put into words. Y/N lay still, her back to Rafe, but her mind raced. She wanted to say something- needed to- but the words felt caught in her throat, tangled with her fears and doubts. She shifted slightly, her fingers clutching the edge of the duvet, and took a shallow breath.

“Rafe”

She mumbled again. He frowned slightly, leaning his head toward her.

“What is it, Angel?”

His voice was soft, concerned at the sudden sound of her voice again. She hesitated, her chest tightening as her thoughts swirled.

What if it is too much?

What if I scare him away?

But the ache for comfort, for safety, outweighed her fears. She tried again, her voice trembling. “Can you—” She stopped, clamping her lips shut.

“Can I what?”

Rafe prompted gently, his brow furrowing as he tried to meet her eyes, even though her back was still turned. Her heart pounded in her chest as she squeezed her eyes shut, taking a shaky breath, she forced the words out, barely audible.

“Could you… can you hold me - please?”

Rafe stiffened, his chest tightening as her words hung in the air. He looked down at her, the tension in her voice cutting straight through him. “Y/N…” he started, his voice trailing off as his mind churned.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…I don’t want to-”

“I trust you.”

She responded to his cautious response, her voice breaking slightly as she cut him off.

“Please. I just… I just really need this right now.”

The crack in her voice, the vulnerability in her words; it caused his jaw to clench as he wrestled with his thoughts. He didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want to risk pushing her too far, what if he triggered a bad memory, what if he reminded her of what had happened. But then again, how could he say no to her when she needed him like this? Finally, he exhaled, shifting slightly on the bed.

“Alright. . .”

He moved slowly, deliberately, as though afraid to startle her. Sliding down beside her, he positioned himself carefully, his chest lightly brushing her back. His arm hovered above her for a moment, his heart thudding loudly in his chest, before he gently draped it around her waist.

“Is this okay?”

He asked, his voice barely audible. She nodded against the pillow, her breaths still shaky but steadying slightly as his warmth enveloped her. She whispered back to him,

“It’s perfect.”

Please don't let go

His heart panged in his chest as he felt her relax ever so slightly in his hold. He adjusted his arm, pulling her just a little closer, his hand resting lightly on her side. The curve of her back pressed into him, and he could feel the tension in her frame begin to ease. They stayed like that in silence, the soft rhythm of their breathing syncing. Rafe pressed his cheek against the pillow, his eyes fixed on the back of her head, her hair brushing his face slightly, the scent of her shampoo familiar, comforting.

He didn’t say a word, didn’t dare move, afraid to disrupt this newfound sense of intimacy between them. All he could do was hold her and hope that it was enough.

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

taglist: @evermorx89 @bellaed1t @user381953 @lovemanheim @loves0phelia @yourcrackleflame @kundaquarius @matthewswifeyy @pillowprincess4him @lilithblackkk @sunny1616 @slut-4-gojo @louxmcl @stelleduarte @p0gue420 @maybanksgirl69 @godharryz @sinnerrsworld @rafe-cameronswife @chillgal135 @moneybaby07 @mrsdrewstarkeyy

188 notes · View notes

honeyhotteoks · 2 months ago

Text

a little update on what’s been going on with me (sorry in advance for the rambling) and a little preview for the next chapter of across stardust~

thank you all for being so patient and kind (as you always are) between my posts, i know sometimes it takes me months to return to something and it means a lot to me that i get so many kind and encouraging messages in those periods of downtime. as far as what’s going on with me…. i’m doing okay, but have been working really hard on my mental health and on myself in general over the past year or so. recently though, things with my adhd have been pretty challenging, work has been overwhelming, and one of the tests i needed to pass for that job i unfortunately failed and need to retake. it’s just been one of those winters i guess, but i know that’s led to me posting less here and even less on twt. on top of that…. and i’m honestly a little nervous to even write this, my therapist and i have been exploring the possibility of an asd diagnosis, and if that’s something you’ve ever thought about or experienced yourself as an adult, you know it can be a lot and bring up a lot of emotions.

i don’t mean to come on here and emotionally word vomit, but i guess over the years that i’ve been writing i’ve always tried to be honest about what’s up with me and what that means for my writing and my readers, so i wanted to do that. as you can imagine, it’s just been a lot of things to process and i’m only really writing in short creative bursts right now as compared to before when it was pretty constant. i’m working on prioritizing my mental health, keeping myself regulated, and hoping that the creativity comes along with it.

as far as what that means for my work? things are coming, just slowly as per usual. however, this past week and weekend i hit a good stride with across stardust and i’m feeling pretty confident that chapter two is almost ready. i’m hoping to get some time to myself to finish it this weekend so i can post it early next week.

as a huge thank you to everyone who has sent me kind messages about this fic in particular, there is a preview under the cut of the next chapter. please note, this is full of spoilers, so if you’d prefer to wait, just don’t click under the cut.

thank you, i love you guys, and i hope you enjoy!!

across stardust chapter two; preview

…

You find a home for his coat in the entryway nestled on a hook next to yours, his shoes already placed neatly side by side with your sneakers. It looks so right, your life against his, and you let your fingers skate down over the back of his coat as you take it in, a smile pulling at your lips. He belongs here, in every way, and for the next three days you’d pretend his presence in your apartment was permanent, solid and immutable in the way it feels in your heart.

His coat, his shoes, and in a flash you see it all, flickers of a real life together. Toothbrushes, coffee cups, letters in the mail, his keys kissing yours in a dish by the door, books slotted together on the shelf, clothes tangled up in the laundry basket.

Your chest aches with need, but he just walked into your apartment for the first time, so you shake off those thoughts and turn to him, “What did you have in mind for tonight?”

“Honestly,” He grins, “being able to talk to you face to face is as far as I let myself get,”

“Way better than texting,” You smile back, “you want a drink? Beer? Wine?”

“Sure,” He nods, “Beer?”

You nod and take the two steps into the kitchenette to locate glasses and two cans of beer, calling over your shoulder, “Make yourself comfortable, are you sure you’re not hungry?”

”I’m okay,” You hear him settle onto the couch and it occurs to you that you’ve never had a man in your apartment, at least in the sense of a romantic partner. For years you were going to their places, strangely protective of your own little haven between these four walls, and yet with Yunho you feel comfortable enough already not just to let him inside, but to give him your door code without a thought.

You blink at the realization, almost letting his glass overflow onto the countertop as you pour. How strange the last few weeks have been, how different you already are.

“How long have you lived here?” Yunho asks, and you let the thoughts about what it all means fade into the background as you turn towards him.

“Um,” You do the math in your head, “a few years? Almost four now,”

“It’s a great place,” He says again.

You leave the two empty cans on the counter and cross the room towards him, “Yeah,” you nod, “It’s small, but it’s nice and accessible, and in this area anyways I really can’t beat the rent,”

“Mm,” He nods, “I wish I could say I know what you mean, but idol life is strange.”

“That’s right,” You nod, “you don’t pay for your place?”

You settle onto the small couch next to him as he answers, “It’s part of our contract so it’s provided, but if we were to leave the group before contracts are up we’d owe the money back,”

You grimace, “That’s terrible,”

He nods but it’s with a slight shrug, “Some companies are worse, KQ being small has its benefits in other areas so that’s never been much of a concern for us,”

“That’s good at least,” You nod, “and they treat us pretty well, all things considered.”

“Did you ever work anywhere else?” Yunho takes a sip of beer and makes a noise of satisfaction at the flavor.

You smile and tuck your legs under you, angling towards him on the couch, “After cosmetology school I worked at SM for about a year,”

“And?” He asks.

“Awful,” You groan, “The pay was terrible, and the schedules were worse. It felt like being an intern,”

“And then you came to KQ?”

You sip your beer, nodding as you do, “Iseul and I went to school together, she got me in as soon as a position opened up, really vouched for me considering I had a smaller portfolio than she did at the time,”

“I’m glad she did,” He smiles warmly.

“What about you?” You ask, “Was KQ your first choice?”

He turns towards you on the couch, his knees pressed against yours and he rests one arm on the back of your couch, “Not initially,” he admits, “but I had two other competing offers, and something just didn’t feel right about either. Then I met Hongjoong, and I guess you know, that’s it,”

“A little bit of fate,” You smile.

“Mm,” He nods, “fate, maybe luck, I don’t care what it was, I’m just happy to be with you now,”

Your cheeks heat a little, and you look down at the popping bubbles on the surface of your drink.

”I just wish it happened sooner,” He admits, his hand sliding over the cushions to touch your forearm.

You nod and look back up, “I know what you mean, but, maybe that’s another thing fate got right, maybe we’re finally ready for each other now.”

He laughs, “What was the word Iseul used? Skittish?”

You sigh, “Yeah, she’s not totally wrong. I used to have terrible taste in guys, or maybe I wasn’t comfortable opening up, I don’t know, but,”

Yunho gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “I get it,”

You cock your head, asking him a silent question.

“I’ve dated a bit,” He explains, “and I always thought maybe it was me, but no matter how nice or compatible someone was on paper it was just…”

“Dull?” You offer.

He nods, “Like I was sleepwalking through it,”

Your stomach bubbles with a nervous thrill, your chest constricting with anticipation, “And with me?”

His mouth turns up in a small smile, eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again, “I’m more than awake with you.”

“Me too,” You confess.

It’s quiet for a moment, Yunho’s thumb sweeping a soft line over the veins in your wrist, and then he exhales and drops his glass off on the table.

“Yun?”

He smiles at the abbreviation of his name and takes your glass away too, “As much as I want to talk all night, and I do, I think I might actually die if I’m not touching you after all these weeks,”

He reaches for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you over to his half of the couch. You squeak in surprise, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest and another on the cushions, but you end up pressed up against him and almost laying across his chest. Your body relaxes into him instantly, and Yunho lets out a relieved sigh. This, this is what you had been waiting weeks and weeks to feel again, the sureness of his body under your fingertips, the way your heart seems to slow and soothe with every touch.

“Anyways,” His voice cracks a little, a soft smile on his face, “you were saying,”

You’re nearly nose to nose, close enough to hear his breath, to feel the thump of his heart under your palm. His eyes flick over your face, his lips part, pupils dilating wider with every passing moment.

You try to remember where you were in the conversation, but with him so close and his hot hands on you, it’s all like a distant memory and you laugh lightly, “I have no idea,”

He grins, his hand brushing your face, the pad of his thumb tracing your cheekbone, and then without a single conscious thought you’re surging forwards to press your lips to his.

#honeyhotteoks updates

92 notes · View notes

thatonefanficwriternooneknows · 2 months ago

Text

FoxQuin Week Day 1 - Shovel Talk

Good Afternoon/Morning/Evening/Night!

Here for your reading pleasure is day 1 of FoxQuin Week! I decided to be extra (and hate myself) and work in both the quote prompt and the writing prompt because why not :D

So this one is Fox's Batch Giving Quinlan the Shovel Talk and "What do you mean you're married?" (@foxquinweek )

It is a little over 1k so enjoy :D

Quinlan is having a rather odd day.

It started with Commander Wolffe trying to corner him in the halls of the Temple, it continued with Commander Ponds staring at him during the council meeting he was asked to, and it kept up with Commander Cody trying to get his attention in the mess hall.

Now, when Quinlan was trying to spend some quality time with his padawan, that may or may not include some recreational murder, Commander Bly kept swerving the conversation around to Fox.

That’s when the dots started to connect.

“Why exactly do you keep bringing Commander Fox up, Bly? Is there something you want to know?”

Aayla’s head perked up, looking at Quinlan and Bly with her wide eyes, smelling gossip no doubt. Bly stuttered through some word vomit before caving and muttering “never mind”.

They didn’t get to their recreational murder, but Quinlan had a great time making Bly uncomfortable with random mentions of what Fox and him get up to in their spare time. Without specifically saying Fox’s name.

It was quite fun.

Odd, but fun.

As the day passed, the Commanders tried more and more interesting ways to corner him. It didn’t work because, one, Quinlan grew up here and knew every hiding place, and two, he was a kriffing Shadow. If they wanted to corner him they’d have to get up to Fox’s level.

But, all good things had to come to an end, and it ended with Quinlan sitting at the Jedi Commissary with Captain Rex sitting across from him…cleaning his blaster while pointedly staring at Quinlan.

Not subtle, this lot.

Quinlan smirked at the blond captain and kept eating his food like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

Which he didn’t, because Fox’s batch’s approval meant nothing to him.

Fox’s opinion was the only opinion when it came to their relationship.

Soon enough, every single Commander that tried to corner him today was on Rex’s side of the table, staring Quinlan down, their Jedi were sitting on Quinlan’s side radiating concern.

Considering the only beings that knew about him and Fox were Tholme and Aayla that was fair.

“So…Jedi Master Quinlan Vos.” Wolffe started and Quinlan chuckled at the concerned sounds coming from Plo.

“So, Commander Wolffe.” Quinlan was nothing if not an asshole.

The one eyed commander glared at him with his one good eye, likely hoping Quinlan would spontaneously burst into flame if he glared hard enough.

Jokes on him, though, Quinlan has been glared at harsher by worse.

“Let’s just cut the chase, what are your intentions with our kih’vod, Vos?” Cody cut in on the staring contest.

Quinlan chuckled at several Jedi Councilors choking on their food.

He leaned back in his chair, smirking happily at the group of angry vode glaring at him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you mean.” Quinlan shrugged and kept eating, moving his attention to his wrist comm and the message from Fox on it.

The Hot (definitely) One: please ignore my batchers

Thorn told them

he’s being properly punished

The Smart (allegedly) One: lol

no worries, babe

this is kriffing hilarious

The Hot (definitely) One: you have an odd sense of humor

are you in the Temple?

The Smart (allegedly) One: commissary

The Hot (definitely) One: be right there

Quinlan smiled and returned to his food, smiling at Wolffe who was ignoring his food in favor of stabbing it menacingly.

Hex definitely did it better.

(Fox’s batchers attempting a compactor talk was infinitely amusing. More so when one considers the fact that no one could possibly be scarier than the CMO of the Guard, and Hex had cornered Quinlan seconds after he convinced Fox to give them a chance.

That man was terrifying.

Quinlan was convinced the war would be over if they just set the Guard CMO on the Separatist Senate.)

“We know you know who Fox is, General.” Ponds finally piped up. Good for him.

“Oh I definitely know Fox. What does that have to do with your kih’vod?” Quinlan was definitely being a shit right now. He was entitled.

Wolffe slammed his fists onto the table top, rattling the dishes and startling everyone not involved in this conflict.

“Stop being obtuse, Vos. What are your intentions with Fox?” Wolffe hissed out, Bly placing a placating hand on his shoulder and muttering under his breath about tempers.

Quinlan rested his cheek on his fist and hummed.

“My intentions are between Fox and I, Commander.” He couldn’t help but purr out, tempted to see how worked up he could get the batch before they caved and started threatening him outright.

Wolffe let out a strangled scream and made to launch across the table at Quinlan, only to be held back by Bly and Cody and slammed back into his seat.

“Fox is a grown vod, he can make his own decisions. But Vos, if you hurt him…well…” Rex trailed off and started putting his blaster together with emphasized movements.

Quinlan couldn’t help but laugh.

“Your compactor talk is so cute, Commanders, Captain. But CMO Hex already beat you to it. And ARC Captain Lex, Lieutenant Tina, Commander Thorn, Stone and Thire, even Sargent Apex. His was the funniest honestly.” Quinlan chuckled, remembering the scarred Sargent nonchalantly assembling a bomb while telling Quinlan all the things Fox has done for him and his batch.

It was almost the opposite of a compactor talk, actually.

The Commanders blinked in unison before their brows furrowed and their lips pursed.

Not his fault Fox’s batch weren’t up to date with the Guard personnel.

“Who is Fox?” Obi-wan was looking at Quinlan with his kicked tooka eyes and he vaguely felt bad for not telling his best friend about Fox, but also…things have been happening pretty fast.

He opened his mouth to answer, honestly for once, but a gloved hand slid around his neck and lightly tilted his chin up and Quinlan smiled as Fox pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

Fox’s answering smile was stunning.

“Me’vaar ti gar, riduur?” Fox asked against his lips, pulling back just far enough for Quinlan to have space to answer.

“Naas, ner riduur.” Quinlan responded before snaking his hand into Fox’s lovely locks to pull him in for another kiss.

Idly he heard the clattering of glassware and a strangled scream.

Quinlan looked over at their audience, smirking when Fox brushed his lips against his cheek while burying his face into Quinlan’s shoulders.

Everyone seemed to speak or shout at once and it echoed into the commissary, Fox’s shoulders shaking as his laugh echoed Quinlan’s.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE MARRIED?!”

#foxquinweek #quinlan x fox #foxquinweek 2025 #FoxQuin Week 2025 #screamhoney things #star wars #commander fox #coruscant guard #quinfox #<3 #foxquinweek2025

90 notes · View notes

lincolndjarin · 1 year ago

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty six : crucifixion

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 12.7k

summary : judgement day.

warnings: major character death, above canon typical violence, very brief references to suicide, torture, body horror (briefly), feelings of despair, blood, wounds, general kodo grossness, vomit (reader vomits several times, it is never described in detail), language, angst, brief smut, pregnancy, death, reader is not doing well in this like she's at a breaking point, i may have missed some so feel free to let me know.

a/n: please read the warnings on this chap! it's the most serious of the bks updates, definitely a bit more intense than the rest. gonna work on getting 27 out within the next few day. i've been terrified of releasing this chapter since i started writing it so once i post this i'm going to dig a hole and sit in it and hide for a while lmao.

i changed my editing style so if there's spelling errors lmk!! apologies in advance!!

“My room is too big.”

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” You’re giggling along with him now, it’s the hardest you’ve ever heard him laugh. You both just laugh for a few minutes, as if each other's company is the most amusing thing in the world.

Once your giggles fizzle out you wait another moment before breaking the silence.

“Where did you grow up?” You can’t see him but you can sense where he sits in the darkness, you crawl forward so you’re sitting between his legs, your own legs wrap around his waist. “I’m just curious.”

“Aq Vetina.” You can’t recall anything about the planet. You aren’t even sure you’ve heard of it.

“Do you remember your parents well? You don’t talk about them very much.” You put your hands on his shoulders, ever so slowly moving them up to his neck until you’re cupping his face.

“I’ll never forget them.” He whispers.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We can’t change the past.” You rub your nose against his, bumping them together as you hum and nod. “My mother loved ships. We didn’t travel, we never had a reason to, but she would take me outside and we’d watch ships fly past. I could never comprehend how she knew the name for all of them, it blew my mind.” You wrap your arms around his neck, staying silent in hopes that he’ll continue, he so rarely speaks so much. “My father worked a lot but he always made time for us, he was always home in time to say goodnight to me. He was always around when I needed him, he always provided for us. On his day off he’d spend the whole day cooking, I’d sit on the kitchen counter and tell him what my mother and I had done that week. When she’d come home we’d all eat dinner together.”

“You sound like you were a happy child.” You can’t help but smile.

“I never had reason to be otherwise.” He says it so matter of factly that you don’t doubt it for a second. He was loved. It only makes you smile wider.

“What were you like, as a child?”

“Well behaved.” You immediately begin laughing once more.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it. My mother homeschooled me, she always made sure I had manners. I wasn’t particularly athletic or talkative so I didn’t play with other kids a lot. It was just me and mama.” He sounds far away, it makes you want to hold him close and never let him go.

“So what did you do all day?” Your tone has softened significantly.

“I would sew.”

“Be serious.” He’s the one who laughs now at the disbelief in your voice.

“I am! I would sit with my mother after my lessons and we’d sew.” His fingertips dance along the back of your neck as he reminisces.

“What kinds of things?” You don’t tease. When you really think about it you suppose such a hobby is fitting for him. A task that requires precision and care.

“I would help her make clothes and blankets that she would sell most days. On the weekends she’d let me do whatever I wanted so I would practice my embroidery.”

“My heart is actually about to explode out of my chest, you’re so cute.” You put on a mocking tone but the thought of such a thing really does make your heart clench. “Little Din Djarin stitching his name into his clothes.”

“You’re a cruel woman.” He leans forward, knocking his forehead against yours, almost as if he were reprimanding you.

“What sorts of things would you embroider?” Your tone goes back to genuine, you could listen to him talk about himself for days and you’d never get bored.

“Whatever my mother wanted. I would ask her what I should do and then I’d stitch it onto her blanket or the hem of her skirt. Mostly flowers, she loved daisies.” You’re pretty sure one of your ovaries literally popped at the thought of a little boy with dark curls and big brown eyes sitting beside his mother and embroidering a daisy onto her skirt. Your heart flutters a bit as you think of the necklace he got you. The silver outline of a flower you now realize is a daisy. “If he was ever gone for more than one night for work my father would bring her daisies, one for each day he was away.”

“Do you still know how?”

“I used to fix Grogu’s clothes when he ripped them but I haven’t done much else since I was a boy. He says it with finality but you carry on, not wanting him to stop talking.

“What were their names? Your parents?”

“Clara and Arin Djarin.”

“Those are pretty names.”

“What was it like for you? You said you had seven siblings right?”

“Eight actually.” You think of them now. There were eight of you and your parents' love for all of you combined wasn’t even a tenth of how much Din’s parents loved him.

“Do you like having a big family?” He lifts you off of his lap, laying you back down as he crawls on top of you, laying against your chest.

“I love it. I miss my siblings everyday, do you think we’ll be able to visit them someday?”

“If it’s safe to, of course we will.” He tilts his head, if you weren’t in darkness he’d be looking at you.

“I wish they had visited here. They would have loved you.”

“You think?”

“Are you kidding me? The younger ones would adore you.” You tangle your finger in his hair, scratching his scalp. “Kids just naturally like you.”

“They just haven’t learned to fear me.” You frown when he says it like a fact.

“I think it’s more than that.”

“Yeah?” The hopeful tilt to his voice has you leaning down to press a kiss into his hair.

“Kids are intuitive, they can sense that you’re a good person.” He tenses up as you tell him he’s a good person. You know exactly what he’s thinking about now, how he punched your husband and then refused to leave.

Neither one of you wants to talk about that though, not today.

“What kind of room would you want? Since your current room isn’t to your liking.” He’s quick to change the subject and you let him.

“In all honesty, I like the cabin, I wish we could just live there.” You run your fingers through his curls as you think about it, gently pulling through any tangles.

“My cabin?” His voice is full of uncertainty as he pulls back a bit.

“It’s nice.” You feel a bit defensive, you consider the cabin to be the closest thing you have to a home. “Can you imagine getting to stay on Naboo? We could spend our mornings walking the market.” You rest your hand on the back of his neck now. “We could get jobs in the city, and then at night we’d come home.”

“To the cabin?” He still sounds rather skeptical of your hypothetical future.

“I’d cook dinner, you’d do the chores.”

“The cabin’s a bit small for us.”

“We’d make it a bit bigger, add a few bedrooms, we don’t need that much space.”

“A few?” He turns his head, his lips brush against your collar briefly as he kisses you there, freezing up when you speak again.

“At least two, one for us and then some for any little Djarin’s who might need space.” With that he sits up entirely, his legs straddle your stomach.

“Little Djarin’s?”

“And Grogu, he would come live with us as well.”

“You’d want him to live with us?”

“Of course, he’s a little Djarin.” Your hands rest on his thighs now as he seemingly ponders above you. He hums to himself in silence for a moment and you can’t help but grin at how seriously he’s taking all of this.

“How many?” He finally speaks again and you laugh at the bluntness of his question.

“Kids?”

“How many would you want?”

“You go first.” You haven’t ever talked about this sort of thing so you want to gauge his answer first so you don’t scare him too much with all the kids talk.

“Maybe five? Or six.”

“Six?” Your voice pitches up immediately and you feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs.

“Or five.”

“How about two, counting Grogu.” Turns out you didn’t need to worry about scaring him off.

“How about three?” Three is manageable.

“Counting Grogu?”

“Counting Grogu.” He seems satisfied with that.

“I suppose we could have three, you’re the one who has to build all the extra bedrooms.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I’d work at the library and you’d work in a shipyard, we’d take turns staying home with the kids.” You pull him back to you, taking his hands and dragging him to lay his head on your chest once more.

“I’ve got enough savings, neither one of us has to work if you’d like.” It sends a twinge of pain to your heart how real this conversation has become, knowing that this exact dream isn’t possible.

You could always make parts of it real.

Someday.

“I’d want to work, to get out of the house, but you could stay home if you’d like.”

“When they’re still ik’aad, at least for the first few years I’d want to be with them.” He’s going to be a wonderful father.

“Then I’d work, not long hours, just enough to get me out of the house, when I come home I’d give you a break, you could do the shopping and I’d watch the little’s.”

“We’d go as a family, I wouldn’t want ‘a break.’”

“You’d want to wrangle three kids in the markets?” You scoff in disbelief but he continues to sound completely serious.

“They’d be well behaved.” You seriously doubt that.

“What about either one of us makes you think our children will be well behaved? Is Grogu well behaved?”

“We’ll manage.”

“They’ll be wild.” They will, not they would.

“And smart.” He sits up again, hovering above you to give you a quick kiss.

“And happy.” There isn’t a doubt in your mind that your children would be happy with Din as their father.

“You’d really want to live here? I could build us a house anywhere.”

“I like Naboo, at least everything outside of the castle. I don’t even mind the castle, I just don’t care for the people inside it.” It’s true, somewhere along the way this place grew on you immensely. You love the city and the people in it. “And they’d get to play in the garden.”

“I would build you a cabin anywhere you wanted, and I’d plant you a new garden.” He kisses along your cheeks and forehead as he speaks.

“You wouldn’t need to plant me a garden if we lived here.” You insist.

“We can’t live here, mesh’la.” He rubs a small circle with his thumb against your cheek. “This is too serious now, we’re supposed to be relaxed today.”

“When did we agree on that?” You muster up a weak laugh.

“It was a silent mutual agreement.”

“I’m plenty relaxed.” You mumble. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his stubble tickling you as you let out an airy giggle.

“I’m actually very tense and I think we should take a break from all this talking and take care of that.” He mumbles against your shoulder.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.” He emphasizes his point by pressing his erection against your hip, you hadn’t even realized that this is where he was going with that.

“How long have you been waiting to jump me?”

“When we started talking about the five kids I was gonna put in you.” He continues to nip at your neck and shoulders as he speaks.

“Skipping the agreed upon three and going straight to five already? You’re not even going to attempt to negotiate for four?”

“So you’re open to four?” He pulls back and you can hear his smile.

“Let’s start with one and go from there.”

“Right now?” His hips stutter down a bit against yours.

“Maker, you’re insatiable.” You both burst into another fit of laughter.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“I could get pregnant, and considering the lack of sex I’ve had with my husband I’m sure that might raise a few eyebrows.”

“It would never get to that point, when we’re in the clear with this whole Kodo mess I’m getting you out of here.”

“Like… actually leaving Naboo?”

“Exactly like that. I’m gonna take you far away from here when this is over, gonna keep you all for myself.” His hands move down, giving your hips a squeeze.

“I’m already yours.” You laughed, rolling over to be on top of him. He’s right, if you’re going to leave anyway then what’s the worst thing that could happen?

You never talked about that night after that.

When everything sorted itself out you realized how crazy your fear had made you. You couldn’t just leave. At least that’s what you’d told yourself, now you feel like an idiot for not holding him to his words. It wasn’t realistic, you both knew actually leaving would take so much more preparation than a few whispered ideas during a time where neither one of you was in any position to be making such promises.

It was just talk.

Lysa came to get you from the dining room.

After everyone left you had no motivation to move, you just stood there, frozen in time. After a few hours she found you, she had taken your hand and walked you back to your chambers. She held your hand, she kept you upright when you threatened to crumble. And when you felt a wave of nausea ripple through you she rushed you to the fresher, a hand on your back as you threw up all over again.

You sat breathlessly on the tile, Lysa rubbing your back.

“Gods, I’ve been nauseous since the wedding. Even before everything fell apart.” It’s the first words you’ve spoken since they took Din, your stomach is still churning. “This has never happened before.” You groan, you’ve had many moments of upset throughout your life, but none that made you physically ill. Lysa looks almost painfully worried.

“Ma’am… is there a chance you might be…”

Kriff.

You never talked about that night after that.

Maybe you should have.

You both did a lot of things during those days. You had been so angry, and he had done everything in his power to ease that anger, to keep both of you as happy as someone could be in your situation.

You shouldn’t have used that as an excuse to be reckless.

“I’d like to go to bed.”

“Of course.” She helps you to your feet, walking you back to your room, you turn to her one last time before you close the door.

“I’m sorry. Elaine never should have gotten involved in all this.” You’d trade places with her in a heartbeat if you could.

“It’s not your fault.” She truly seems to believe that.

Except it is. Elaine never would have found herself in this situation if she hadn’t so often been helping the two of you keep your secret.

“Goodnight, Lysa.”

“Goodnight, princess.”

You lay on the bed, unable to bring yourself to sleep in the closet.

It’s cold. Colder than Hoth, as you stare at the ceiling in your far too big bed in your far too big room. Even bigger now that it’s just you.

You let your hand roam down your torso to rest on your stomach.

Just you, hopefully.

☆

You’re now having nightly dinners with Kodo.

You don’t get any respite from him, you just want to stay in bed. You’re nauseous and tired and your head hasn’t stopped spinning since that night. A million thoughts a minute.

Where is he?

Is he okay?

What the fuck can I do about it?

Mostly that.

The worst part is your lack of a plan. If the roles were reversed Din would have already rescued you and you’d be living happily ever after.

But that isn’t how your story is going. Instead you are alone, with no scheme on how to get to him. It’s only been three days but it’s driving you insane, you have never known such hopelessness, it’s maddening. To sit alone in your room all day, staring at the ceiling until Lysa comes to dress you for dinner. Neither one of you ever speaks, afterall, what would you say to each other?

“I’m sorry the love of your life had been sentenced to die?”

How morbid.

Not that you’re above being morbid.

You think about it often. How easy it would be to drive your dinner knife into Kodo’s throat. You’re seated beside him now at dinner, both of you at the head of the table, joined by the rest of his family.

The thought of killing him is the only thing that brings you peace these days. You’ve never once in your life been violent until now. Din is good. He’s a good man. In every way he is the opposite of your husband yet Din is the one locked away, Maker knows where, while Kodo is being rewarded.

It doesn’t make you mad, it makes you furious.

It makes you want to poison his wine.

But you don’t have poison.

And you can’t put yourself in danger. Because you feel fundamentally different, and even if you refuse to think that such a thing is possible you know you wouldn’t just be putting yourself in danger. There’s more at stake now.

That’s what you tell yourself to stay calm, a feat that is getting harder by the minute as you’re sat beside Kodo who is currently bragging about how he defeated a Mandalorian.

“They aren’t as strong as you think they are. Under the armor they’re weak, pathetic.”

It took six battle droids to keep him down. You didn’t even get near him.

“Some people just need to be taught a lesson, don’t touch what isn’t yours.” He sneers and the rest of the table erupts into laughter. “I certainly taught that horned bitch a lesson as well, you all should have seen what they brought me last night.”

You perk up, this is the only thing they’ve said in days that truly matters to you. You’ve heard nothing about the current state of either of them until now.

“What did they do to Elaine?” Everyone’s head turns to you, all their expressions look as if you’ve announced something treasonous but Kodo smiles as if he were explaining something to a child.

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.” He puts his hand over yours when he says it.

You don’t ask for any follow up.

You don’t think you could stomach it, so you stay silent for the rest of your meal. When you’re finished you stand, the rest of the table is starting to pour more drinks but you simply lean down, mumbling something about being tired before giving Kodo a quick kiss on the cheek and dismissing yourself.

You’re waiting for the night where he joins you in your chambers, after all his father is dead, but it has yet to happen. He had told you that once he was king he would be in need of heirs but he seems happy enough with his pleasure houses and you’re more than grateful for the women you entertain him so you don’t have to.

So you return to your chambers alone, peeling off your gown before burying yourself under the covers.

Sleep evades you as you toss and turn. You aren’t even tired, there’s too much going on in your mind, there’s no room for exhaustion. After about an hour you manage to drift in and out of unconsciousness, earning a brief reprieve from your anxieties until a sharp knocking has you jolting upright.

You don your robe, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you rush to the door, you’re too tired to wonder who might even be bothering you at such an hour as you pull the door open.

Lysa?

“We have to hurry, ma’am.” She grabs your arm, frantically tugging you into the hall.

“Lysa? What are you doing? Are you okay?”

“I am fine, but we don’t have much time.”

“Surely you have enough to tell me where we are going.”

“Do you want to see him or not?”

Din.

You nod, taking her hand as he rushes onward, stopping at each hall to peer around the corners until you make your way to a servants stairwell, skipping several steps in your descent until you run out of stairs. You’ve never been down here, you didn’t even know there were dungeons until recently.

It makes your stomach twist in knots the moment you stare into the darkness.

“Are there no guards?” You whisper, squeezing her hand.

“Not for the next hour, I’ve made sure of it.” She begins walking down the poorly lit corridor, pulling you along behind her.

The stone floor is damp and it smells of mildew. Your bare feet are already freezing after just a few steps.

Every cell you pass is lit from the outside with a hanging lantern, they’re mostly empty, but you catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye every now and then. In all honesty you’re doing your best to take in as little as possible, you don’t want to think about Din being down here in such a place, but there’s one element you can’t ignore.

The wailing.

Someone is weeping, a low, sorrowful song filling the vast maze of halls and you realize quickly you’re heading in its direction, Lysa tenses beside you as you continue on. You’re about to turn one more corner when she abruptly stops, turning to face you.

“He needs to eat.” She removes a fistful of rations from her apron pocket, shoving them into your hands.

“He hasn’t?” He’s been down here for three days.

“He won’t… let me.” You pause, cocking your head to the side and she gives you an apologetic look when she turns. “He won’t let me uncover his face.”

Oh.

“I’ll feed him.” You nod slowly, tucking them into your own pockets before turning the corner. The contents of the cell immediately on your right have you stumbling backwards but Lysa is not swayed, pulling a key from her pocket, unlocking the door quickly before handing it to you.

“He’s two cells down, on your right.” She doesn’t look at you as she rushes in, pulling a roll of bandages from her dress. “Shh… it’s okay, I’m here.” Her voice goes soft as she kneels beside Elaine. You can’t help it as you step into the entryway of the cell.

Well, you’ve found the source of the wailing.

She’s sat on a cot, curled in on herself as Lysa carefully peels back a series of soiled bandages from her face.

“I’ve got you, it’s just me.” She continues to make an attempt to sooth a rather hysterical Elaine as she peels back the final layer of bandages and your stomach flips. “You’re okay, love, I need to change these.” You don’t know how Lysa is so calm, even in the darkness you can see the extent of her wounds. Now you know what they brought Kodo last night.

Both eyes.

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.”

Oh gods.

You’re worried you may collapse as you watch Lysa tend to her with no hesitation, cleaning them with a careful hand before she begins to redress them. You can’t bear to watch any longer as Elaine begins sobbing once more. You try desperately to force the sight of your mutilated friend from your mind as you count down two more cells before quickly fumbling for the lock, letting it hit the floor as you take the lantern outside the door off its hook, bringing it into the dark room.

It isn’t like Elaine’s cell.

There’s no bed or interior light, it’s terribly dark and fetid, his cell running deeper than her’s. It takes a few steps for you to finally illuminate the room enough to see him.

Maker.

What have they done to your Din?

You don’t hear Elaine anymore, there isn't a single thing that could distract you from the scene in front of you. There is nothing but the sight of your kar’ta. There’s too much for you to worry about, you don’t even know where to start, you’re frozen in place, a small part of your brain refuses to recognize the man before you as Din at all. He shouldn’t look like this.

Armorless.

They’ve stripped him of any clothing you recognize, the thought alone makes you nearly lose your dinner.

They took his helmet, replacing it with a linen sack.

Did they see his face?

You briefly have to shut your eyes, taking a deep breath as you take in the rest of him. His clothes are too thin, he must be freezing, they’ve dressed him in a cotton tunic and trousers that end just below the knee. You can see just how beaten and bruised he is. Unlike Elaine he’s in chains, kneeling on the floor with his hands shackled, taut above his head. You swallow the lump in your throat and finally crouch down in front of him, setting the lantern down beside you as you reach out to place a hand on his chest.

“Din…” Your voice cracks and the moment you come in contact with him he flinches back. Suddenly you know how Lysa held it together so well with Elaine, she just had to. You can’t fall apart, who would care for him now if you did? “It’s me, just me. Just me.” You whisper and place a hand over his heart but withdraw it quickly when he trembles under your touch. You ache at the sight of it but more than anything you’re confused, it only takes a moment for you to realize the issue.

He doesn’t have his helmet. They’ve not only left him here blind, but deaf, of course any touch would frighten him.

He assumes you're here to harm him.

You lean in, careful not to come in contact with him as you speak clearly and loudly.

“Din?” His trembling stops instantly. You find it a bit troublesome how much worse his hearing seems to have gotten in such a short time, you’re half tempted to reach under the bag to make sure he still has his ears.

“Sarad?” Oh, Din. His voice is terribly small and it sends you forward, wrapping your arms around him as you pull him into an unreciprocated embrace.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You make sure to speak loud enough for him before pulling back, placing your hands against the fabric covering his face.

“Are you okay?” He coughs a bit as he asks and you almost laugh at how ridiculous the question is considering the state he’s in. Are you okay?

Technically no.

But far better than he’s doing.

“I’m perfectly fine, what can I do for you? Are you hurting?” You feel his face through the bag as you look down across his body. It doesn’t look like there’s been any permanent damage outside of a pretty nasty cut on one of his legs.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Now’s not the time to play the hero, Din.” He flinches a little and you calm your tone immediately. What the hell did they do to him? “Just let me help.”

“How’d you get down here?”

“Lysa, she says you aren’t eating.”

“She’d have to lift my- the bag to do it.” He sounds apologetic, as if you could ever fault him for following his creed.

“It’s okay… may I?” You bring your hands to the hem of the bag but his head turns sharply.

“I- I don’t want you to look.”

You have no response. He’s always wanted you to look.

“I just, I don’t think you wanna see the condition I’m in. I don’t want your only memories of my face to be this.” He whispers when you don’t respond.

You should have looked when he asked you to. You should have done a lot of things differently.

You shouldn’t have waited so long to look.

You shouldn't have waited so long to tell him you loved him.

You should have just let yourself love him. Why did you fight it for so long? It seems silly now. If you could do it all again you would have just taken his helmet off the first night you met him and you would have married him right then and there. You would have left Naboo that night.

And you would never keep any of it from him. You would tell him how important he is and how loved he is, you wouldn’t make him wait.

Even now you can’t help it though, censoring yourself out of fear. Do you tell him about how nauseous you get every morning? About the way Lysa stares at your belly when she does your makeup?

No.

It wouldn’t do either of you any good, not when he’s in this situation.

You take hold of the edges of the bag once more, gentler this time.

“I’ll close my eyes.” You lift the fabric completely off of him, setting it in your lap as you simultaneously shut your eyes. You keep one hand on his face, using your thumb to find the corner of his mouth as your other hand fumbles to open a ration bar. You feel him part his lips as you feed him. He’s barely chewing, eating quickly and swallowing most of it whole. “Have they fed you at all?” You whisper as he finishes the first bar in a matter of seconds, his teeth lightly scraping against your fingers before you withdraw them, tearing open another bar.

“No.” His voice is still soft as you go to feed him once more, opening each package until he’s eaten them all.

“Are you still hungry? I could see if Lysa has more.”

“I’m okay.” You let your head fall forward, resting your forehead on his.

“What else can I do for you?”

“Nothing. Being here is enough.”

If you had felt helpless before it was nothing compared to this. This is more than helplessness, it’s despair.

“I’m sorry.” You pull yourself further into his lap, wrapping your arms around him in the process.

“Hey… none of this is your fault.” It certainly feels like it is. Why does he keep comforting you when he’s the one shivering and alone down here?

“Please, there has to be something I can do to help you.”

“There is one thing.” You almost open your eyes, you're so relieved, you just want to ease his pain.

“Anything. I’ll do anything.”

“I need you to promise me you won’t look.”

“Won’t look?” Your eyes are already closed, you couldn’t look any less if you tried.

“When they do it. I don’t want you to see it- it won’t be pretty.”

When they separate his head from his body.

“I won’t.” You can’t deny him this, you’ll give him anything he wants. “Do you know how much I love you?” You whisper before leaning forward another inch to kiss him.

The question is genuine. It terrifies you to your core to think that he may not know just how much you love him.

“Of course sarad.” He murmurs against your lips until you let your head rest on his shoulder, fighting back tears.

What do you say now?

What do you say to a man condemned to death?

“I love you.” You mumble into the thin fabric of his tunic.

“I love you too.” After a moment more with him you hear metal jingling as Lysa locks Elaine's cell once more. You quickly pull back from him, pulling the bag back over his head, once you know he can’t see you anymore the tears flow freely. Lysa steps into the cell and you remove your robe, wrapping it around him, immediately he begins to protest.

“Mesh’la, you can’t leave this here.” His voice is strained and it makes you sick to think he started crying once he was out of sight as well.

“Please, y-you’re gonna freeze.”

“They’ll know you were here, sarad’ika.”

“Din…” You’re practically babbling as Lysa removes your robe from his shoulders, an apologetic look on her face as she grabs your arm.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we need to go.” Tears sting your eyes as Lysa urges you to hurry but you don’t want to leave him, you want to stay, no matter the consequence. You pull away from her, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“You need to go.” His voice is urgent through the fabric as you cling to him tighter.

Would it be easier to just stay? Get caught and join him at the executioners? You’re genuinely considering it when you feel your stomach churn once more and you’re reminded of the exact reason why you can’t stay. Before you lose your nerve and shatter completely you lift the bag, just enough to give you an eyeful of his split lip and bruised jaw as you gently lean in and kiss him one more time.

Doing everything in your power to remember exactly what it feels like.

The curve of his lips and the shape of his chin, the overgrown stubble brushing against your skin as you press your face harder against his, desperation taking over as you taste salt on his lips. You hold him as long as you can, until you hear Lysa urging you to make haste once more.

“I love you.” You press your forehead to his through the fabric, feeling the familiar shape of his face against yours.

“I’ll always be yours.”

That was the last thing he was able to say before you let Lysa drag you out of the dungeons.

☆

It’s like everythings suddenly back to the beginning.

You wake up alone, you go to bed alone, and you wander the castle alone.

There is no plotting or scheming to free Din.

Even if you were a trained killer or bounty hunter, it would be more than difficult to get him out of the dungeon and on a ship off Naboo. It would be even harder to do so when you’re one of the most recognizable people on the planet.

He is buried deep beneath the ground and there is nothing you can do about it.

After all, you're just a doll.

You don’t know when it happened but all your clothes are blue again. Every dress Lysa fetches from the closet is a different shade of blue and all your nightgowns are the color of the sky. A personal brand put on you by Kodo. It’s clearly more than just a preference now, it’s a reminder to you and everyone else that you’re his.

And time blends.

You know a date was set right around the time you visited him. One week until Kodo’s coronation and two until the execution. His first public event after being crowned king will be a death sentence, how fitting.

So you wake.

And you sleep.

And you walk.

Kodo never replaces Din and you haven’t seen Leo since that night, so you’re completely alone. It’s like he’s rubbing in the fact that you’re powerless. There’s no need for you to have a guard, you can’t leave. If you tried you’d be escorted back in an instant.

You tried to convince Lysa to let you see him again last night.

“Please, just a few minutes-“

“I’m sorry ma’am, it’s just not possible. The only reason I was able to get you down there the first time was because the guard that usually lets me in was working nights, he won’t be working nights again until next month.”

Din won’t live to see next month.

“Is he eating?”

“He won’t let me-“

“You need to insist. Tell him I insist, and tell him you’ll close your eyes.”

She pins back a bit of your hair, leaving half up and half down. You both bask in the silence for a moment.

“I’ll make sure he eats.”

“Thank you.”

That had been the last conversation you had with Lysa.

She doesn’t come to dress you in the morning. You think nothing of it and dress yourself in the gown she’d laid out last night. It’s a bit difficult, putting your coronation gown on on your own but eventually you manage, when you’re fully dressed in the obscenely decadent blue fabric you begin to worry.

You have no reason to assume that everything is fine. It would actually make sense for this to be a worst case scenario situation, everything else in your life is right now.

You’re about to leave in search of her but you decide against it. Sitting at the vanity and doing your makeup as quickly as possible, the last thing you need to do right now is give Kodo a reason to be upset with you, you have to be presentable. You smear the shimmering blue eyeshadow across your lids before rushing out of your room.

The halls are full. Servants move quickly from room to room, cleaning every inch as you carefully push through the crowds, making a beeline towards the dining room.

Kodo is seething when you push open the large doors.

He stands at the end of the table, shoving an armored guard as the veins in his neck jut out in his rage.

“Where could she have possibly gone? She’s blind. You’re telling me some blind bitch outsmarted my entire guard?”

Your heart flutters at the thought.

They escaped.

Your hope is shattered the moment Kodo begins speaking again.

“At least we still have the Mandalorian… I want security tripled, guards stationed outside his cell at all times.” He continues grumbling for a moment until he realizes you’re there. “Happy coronation day dear wife! I’m afraid we’ve had a rough morning here, somehow in the night the Togruta girl escaped, do not fret, we’ll find her.”

God's you hope not.

Even if things are worse than ever regarding Din there is one flicker of light in that darkness. Lysa got Elaine out. Knowing that almost puts you at ease.

“Happy coronation day.” You actually manage a smile when you look at your husband, it’s weak but it’s genuine. You want to be mad that they didn’t help Din escape but you just can’t be. You know they most likely tried but if the roles had been reversed and you could only get one of them out you wouldn’t hesitate.

So there is no animosity. Just a flicker of happiness for them.

They got out.

☆

You were under the impression that a coronation was a happy event. Yet when you step out onto the castle steps it seems to be quite the opposite.

They look miserable.

All of their faces are sullen and dejected. How shocking, no one is excited about Kodo being crowned king. He didn’t have any of the outside of the castle decorated or made presentable in any way. No one reacts when Kodo reads from an ancient looking book until a crown is placed on his head.

A moment afterwards you’re instructed to kneel and a tiara is placed onto your head.

The audience is silent and you feel shame when you stare out at them.

Even if you don’t have very much power you still feel as if you’ve failed them. The feeling follows you when you’re directed to the dining hall with Kodo.

“I have a couple gifts for you, wife.” His twisted smile makes your stomach turn as you enter the dining hall, now decorated with blue and gray banners.

“A gift? You shouldn’t have, my king, I- I didn’t get you anything.” You feign remorse as you take a sip of the wine in front of you on instinct before spitting it back up into the cup.

“That’s more than okay, you’re my gift, sweet wife, all mine.” The thought of such a thing makes you sick, you smile despite yourself.

“That’s very kind.” You’ll only ever be Din’s. No amount of blue fabric and faux smiles can change that. He snaps his fingers and a large box is brought to you by a servant, they set it directly in front of you on the table. You look at Kodo who nods, sitting back in his chair as you stand, the box is wrapped in checkered blue paper, a large bow adorning the top. Your hands tremble a bit as you take hold of the edges of the ribbon, tugging on them until the bow slips free, much to your surprise the entire box falls open, the sides collapsing giving you an immediate view of the contents.

The silver, shimmering contents.

Din’s helmet.

Polished like new, it sits before you, and the room suddenly empties. It’s as if you are completely alone, despite all the eyes that are most definitely pinned on you right now. Your hands continue to shake as your fingers wrap around the beskar steel, like you would when you held Din’s face, lifting it to glare into the visor.

Empty.

You can’t help but stare at your own emptiness reflected back at you.

You want to hold it close, press it to your forehead but you’re snapped back to reality by the grating sound of Kodo’s voice breaking you from your focus on the helm between your hands.

“That’s only one of your presents, open the next one.” He hisses gleefully.

You set the helmet down, realizing there was another, much smaller box underneath it. Silently you scoop it up and cradle it in your hands. It’s a larger than a ring box, it just barely fits in your palm as you ever so gently open it, swinging the top open as if it were a tiny treasure chest.

Huh.

It takes a moment.

You aren’t exactly sure what it is you’re looking at at first but when it registers your entire body tenses up, your grip tightening on the gift box.

Bloody and pink, a tongue.

Of course you know better than to assume Kodo would give you any old tongue. This is a special someone’s tongue.

No, no, no, no, no.

You had loved his tongue before anything else.

He can’t do this, he cannot do this to you.

You had fallen for his sharp wit first, it was what drew you into him. His sweet words had won you back, his declaration of devotion.

Now you hold all of that in the palm of your hand.

“What do we say?” His nasally voice breaks through your mental anguish.

No.

“Come on, where are your manners?”

Please.

“Thank you.” Your whisper is nearly silent as you struggle to keep down the scream bubbling in your throat.

“What was that?”

You clear your throat.

“Thank you.”

He makes you take it with you. You don’t bother telling him you won’t be attending the coronation ball in a few minutes, it’s not like you’ll be missed.

In one arm you’re cradling his helmet, in the other the little blue box.

You set each one down carefully onto the bed, even if it’s a bit demented these are the only parts of him you have left. You stare at the little box.

You have never been hateful.

Kodo made you into this. You are full of hate, for most things at this point. You hate your husband, you hate your room, and most of all you hate the little blue box on the bed.

And the music starts.

It must be deafening in the hall for you to hear it from your room but it’s there, loud and demanding of your attention.

You’re moving before you even have a chance to think about it, in a few quick strides you’re standing beside the vanity, your hands gripping the top of the mirror as you pull it down in one swift motion, the contents spill everywhere and the glass shatters in an instant, shards splattering the floor but you take no time to process it.

You move on to the next thing.

You yank each drawer from the dresser, throwing them to the floor, clothes strewn about until it’s light enough for you to push the entire dresser over. In your frenzy you go about the room toppling every stupid fucking table over. So many fucking end tables in one room, and you throw everyone to the floor, trinkets and vases clattering to the ground as you destroy the room. You get a rush of adrenaline as you lift one of your nightstands and throw it against the wall leaving a small dent but more importantly the force of it makes anything hanging on the wall tumble to the floor, glass frames shatter.

Your chest heaves as you stare at the carnage.

And it isn’t enough.

Your face is wet with tears and your hands with blood from cuts you didn’t feel upon your skin as you tear open the closet door, the pile of blankets mock you from the floor, you grab them, your vision now blurry with tears as you pull them out of the closet, throwing them onto your bedroom floor. When you return to the closet you’re in a frenzy, you tear at the fabric before you, yanking each and every dress off their hangers, ripping what you can.

There is nothing else for you to do, so you destroy everything you can get your hands on until the only thing left untouched is your bed, left in pristine condition as you let out a small sob.

Maybe you are a hateful person now.

You feel as though you have every right to be at this point.

You step over the shard of glass, giving your bloody hands a glance before wiping them on your gown.

Happy coronation day.

You sit on the bed, your trembling fingers wrap around the helmet, now that you’re alone you waste no time to hold it against you face, until your body just gives up, too tired to stay awake anymore.

☆

A guard wakes you in the morning, knocking on your door, when you answer it they tell you Kodo requires your presence in his chambers.

You dress in a blue gown that you don’t look too closely at. Stopping at the fresher on the way, rinsing the dried gore from your palms, wincing as you clean your wounds. None of which seem too deep.

You want to cut Kodo’s tongue out, to make him feel it. But you know that sort of thing would be an impossible task. So you daydream about it as you walk. You’re more than displeased when you open the door and are greeted by Leodall. You hadn’t seen him since that night and from the looks of it he wasn’t expecting you. He swallows loudly when you step inside Kodo’s room.

Normally you’d be curious, you’d probably take a look around but your eyes refuse to focus on anything but Leo as you scowl at him.

“Why’d you do it?” You don’t hesitate to ask, you have no idea how quickly Kodo will be joining you.

He simply stares at you, shame apparent on his face.

“You owe me an explanation at the very least.” You cross your arms in front of your chest as he clears his throat.

“I thought he’d reward me.”

You laugh. A harsh dry sound

“What could he have possibly given you that you couldn’t have just asked me for?” Your gaze never softens and you’re practically seeing red as you stare at him.

“I thought he’d give me a lordship.”

You can’t help it as another crisp and pained laugh slips past your lips.

“You thought Kodo would raise your status? I thought you were supposed to be smart.” Is he an idiot? “He doesn’t see servants as people, if you wanted such a thing you could have asked me, maybe I could have done something.”

A glimmer of something similar to hope flashes through his eyes.

“Would you- would you consider doing so now?”

“You cannot be serious-” Your expression goes from fury to disbelief as you stand.

“It seemed worth asking.” He puts his hands up defensively as you storm up to him, poking a finger into his face.

“You slimy little weasel, it should be you on the chopping block, not him. If it were up to me I’d have them put your head on a spike.” The words pour out of you like venom.

“I would be nicer to me if I were you.” He sneers and your incredulity only grows. You can’t help it, you scoff in his face.

“I would rather die.” A part of you really means it.

“You might if you aren’t careful, I saved your life by letting Elaine and your Mandalorian take the fall, I could have told the king that you were a willing participant. I saw the two of you together, I read your little rules. He never forced himself on you. I wonder what Kodo might think about that.” You aren’t a fighter, you’ve never so much as thrown a punch in your life but you grab him by the collar of his shirt and slam him into the wall, the back of his head hits the stone and you don’t feel an ounce of remorse as you do so.

“Do it.” You tilt your head to the side, almost as if you’re taunting him. “Tell him.” Any of the confidence he briefly had is gone in an instant. “The moment you do I’ll tell him that you’re covering your tracks, and that you made a pass at me. I wonder how Kodo would reward you for trying to touch what’s his?” Leo’s head turns as you both hear Kodo’s piercing voice in the hall. You release your grip on his shirt, brushing off your gown as you turn towards the door. Kodo and three others make their way into the room as Leo coughs behind you.

“Dear wife, I have another gift for you.” He takes a step to the side, gesturing at a line of three people you don’t give so much as a glance. He doesn’t even seem to notice the obvious tension in the room. “A new staff!”

“I don’t need a new staff, I’m fine on my own.” You abandon the pleasantries. You’re in such a state of upset right now, what's the point?

“You’re the queen now, staff is required. These three will replace the ones you've lost in a week, until then Leodall will be training them intensively to tend to your every need. Two guards will also be assigned to you but I promise they will be much less loathsome than your Mandalorian.”

All five of them will be trained to keep an eye on you. To report back to Kodo, after everything with Din you should have known he’d keep you on a shorter leash.

You barely look at them.

You hate them.

You shouldn’t, they’ve done nothing wrong, but you hate them.

You give each one a quick up and down, naming them in your mind.

A BD-3000 droid commands the most authority just based on how she stands so you mentally note her as Elaine's replacement. You’ll call her new Elaine.

New Lysa is a pasty young blonde woman with rosy cheeks. You truly wonder how well informed she has been on your circumstance. She’s smiling from ear to ear and seemingly couldn’t be happier to be here.

And new Leo is somehow even more nervous looking than actual Leo, practically shaking like a leaf at the sight of you. The bags under his eyes are worse than your own. A lanky thing with messy brown hair.

There’s no reason for you to fight this, Kodo always gets his way so why bother. So you nod. You don’t pretend to be grateful this time, instead you shove your way past all of them, content to return to your room and never leave.

☆

The morning of the execution comes before you’re ready for it.

Of course you didn’t sleep last night, how could you?

You dress yourself, apparently your new staff isn’t starting until tomorrow, not that you mind another day to yourself. You manage to find something that isn’t blue, a gray dress trimmed with gold, the closest thing you’ll find to funeral attire. No one else will dress with any respect for him but they can’t stop you. Your vanity is destroyed so you don’t bother with your hair or your makeup, you simply don’t care enough.

For the most part you feel nothing when you open the door, only emptiness until you look down.

Someone left you a small vase of flowers.

You pick them up, taking a closer look but your heart skips a beat when you do so.

Daisies.

After a few short breaths you throw the vase into the wall across from your door, tiny shards of porcelain fly everywhere as two servants at the end of the hall give you a look of horror. Your shoes crunch over the remains of it as you make your way down the hall and to the entryway of the castle.

Kodo insists that the two of you get to see him first.

You’re sweating wildly out on the steps as you wait.

Long before you’re ready for it they bring him out.

A shivering skeleton of a man with a linen bag over his head, immediately bile rises in your throat. Kodo is grinning ear to ear when his legs are kicked out from under him and he’s forced to kneel.

Kodo himself reaches forward and tears the bag off, too excited for any decorum or finesse.

You gasp as you stare down at the broken man before you.

In all honesty he isn’t at all what you envisioned.

His eyes verge on being hazel; they're such a light brown. You’d always pictured them to be nearly black. It doesn’t matter what color they are though, when you see the tears forming in his lash line you flinch, clutching the ring on your necklace to silently let him know silently just how much he means to you.

He’s a mess.

You don’t like looking at what those weeks in the dungeons did to him and the last thing you need to do right now is empty your stomach on the palace steps.

He’s too thin. Far, far, too thin, it’s like his entire being has shrunk down. He’s hollow.

Your breath hitches when Kodo grabs a fistful of his dark hair, forcing him to turn and stare at the crowd. They must have cut it while he was down there it’s a mess, jagged edges and shorter than you’re used to.

“This man has committed an act of treason against the crown.” His voice is loud and booming as the city goes quiet. “For such a crime he shall face the proper punishment.” He yanks him downawards, you watch in horror as Din’s head hits the stone, an incoherent mess of sounds pour from his bloody mouth and you have to look away.

He didn’t want you to look.

You remind yourself to try and calm your breathing. You can hear the scuffle as they drag him to the guillotine, placing his neck into the wooden divot, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest as you turn to look. His eyes are everywhere but on you as he looks at the people around him, desperately pleading for his life. Not a single person so much as glances at him, afterall, it’s just nonsense, no one can understand him without a tongue.

You can’t stand it, you almost cover your ears but you manage to resist as Kodo puts an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“You’re welcome, sweet wife.” He whispers, his breath hot and wet against your ear.

Fuck it.

You don’t suppress the shudder in your spine as you shoot him a look of disgust. In a matter of moments everything you care about will be gone, why pretend any longer.

A bellowing chime plays from a nearby clock tower and you know it’s time, you straighten up as you stare at the guillotine in abject horror.

This is it.

Your chest rises and falls in sharp short bursts as everyone prepares themselves, a hush forming among the crowd on the street.

And it begins, a chain reaction that you cannot stop now that the executioner has his ax raised above his head.

You had expected more. More time.

A part of you thought that time would slow, that you’d have a chance to stop it.

But no.

There is no epic fairy tale moment where the sun glimmers off of the blade and the executioner raises his ax, giving you this perfect moment to run to him, to shield him from the inevitable, to beg them to take you with him.

That moment never comes.

You barely have enough time to close your eyes like you promised him. In one unbroken motion the rope is cut, the blade falls and boom.

Just like that, he’s gone.

When you hear the metal slicing through the air you squeeze your eyes shut, hearing only the wet crunch as it cuts through flesh and bone. A soft, squishy thud when his head hits the stone.

In fashion with your decision to no longer hide your disgust from Kodo you vomit. Bending down you puke onto the stones, spraying your own, and Kodo’s feet. The triumphant smile on his face vanishes as he realizes what’s happened. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, refusing to look at Din’s limp body as you give Kodo one last look of detestation before turning around and running back into the castle, not caring what anyone thinks anymore.

The moment you’re inside the reality of it all settles in as you feel tears falling wildly as you run up the steps to your room.

☆

You have been good, and kind, and in return the maker rewarded you by killing the love of your life.

So when you stand in the center of your demolished room you do the only thing your body can do at this point.

You scream.

From deep within your stomach, you scream, loud and raw.

If anything was left unbroken in your room you’d be throwing it at the wall. But there’s nothing so you scream.

You shriek.

You howl.

And you wail.

You scream until there is no more noise. Your voice, like the rest of you, gives up.

You aren’t sure how late it is when you finally stop. You’re tired and it’s dark outside and your throat is raw.

And you lay on the floor. Because the bed is too big, and too cold, and the closet is so empty. So the only place left to sleep is there. You lay on the floor with no more tears to cry and no more sounds to scream as you stare at your bed, only from this angle can you see a rectangular shape under your bed frame.

You wipe your nose with a stray piece of fabric before slowly crawling over to it, you sit on the floor and when you retrieve the item a brand new lump forms in your throat as you stare down at the box Din had bought all those days ago at the market.

Your failsafe.

With quivering hands you open it, staring into the small space containing a mess of items but what catches your eye is a piece of folded paper with your name on it. You take it between your fingers, opening it, careful to not let your tears fall onto it.

Sarad’ika,

If you’re reading this then I’m afraid things aren’t going all that well for me. There are plenty of possible reasons as to why I’m no longer with you, but what’s important is that I plan on doing everything in my power to get back to you. There is only one thing in the galaxy that could keep me from your side, and if that is my fate then this box will ensure you’re taken care of.

The most important thing is for you to get off this planet. I have included a few possible plans for you, do what you have to to survive. Elaine will help you escape.

You can seek out Greef Karga on Nevarro. Tell him Din Djarin sent you, tell him what’s happened and he will see to it that you are cared for. Explain our circumstances and I am certain he will provide you with safe lodging.

Tatooine is also an option. You’ll find a Mandalorian there by the name of Boba Fett, he will not turn you away. You will be protected there, if you need to relocate for some reason after that he will help you locate the Mandalorian convert. Show the Mandalorians your ring and you will be cared for the rest of your life, the convert will protect you.

As an absolute last resort there is a planet located in the Outer Ring called Ossus. There is a school there, taught by a man named Luke Skywalker. I doubt he would be eager to take you in but you must insist. Bring the chainmail, they’ll know who sent you. Take care of each other.

In this box you will find enough credits to get you off planet and take care of you for several months, a year if you’re frugal, I suggest you take a few jewelry pieces to pawn off for extra credits as well. You will find a small chainmail shirt, and a necklace of mine.

And lastly you will find your vibroblade.

Protect yourself. You’re strong, and more than capable of doing so.

I have one request for you, please, I will only ask this one thing of you.

Be smart.

You are the smartest and kindest person I have ever had the honor of knowing. Be smart, take care of yourself. If the roles were reversed I know that I would go to extremes to either get you back, or find justice for you. And all I can do is ask that you do not attempt any such thing, the only thing I would ever want for you is safety and happiness.

So seek those things out.

Be safe. Be happy.

I was lucky to know you, and even luckier to be yours.

an ner kar'taylir darasuum,

Din

All my love.

You flip the paper over, desperate for more, more Din, but all you find is scrawled coordinates to each location. Your fingers sift through the items, everything he promised is found inside but you latch onto the blade. Laying back down on the floor you clutch it between your fingers as you think of Din.

Din, who was yours.

Din, who they took from you.

Who Kodo, took from you.

And your grip on the knife tightens.

☆

Two guards stand outside your door round the clock now.

They never follow you or come into your room but they’re there, silently watching as you direct all your anger at your new staff. As promised Leo trained them to be as persistent and infuriating as he was.

When the two new girls come to fetch you in the morning you can’t help it when you scream at them to leave you alone and to stop trying to clean the ever growing mess of things.

It doesn’t matter that it isn’t their fault, you can’t stand the sight of anyone.

All three of them try. New Elaine and Lysa show up three times a day, trying to dress you and squeeze their way past you into the room but after enough shrieking they always leave you be.

New Leo usually tries once or twice a day, you don’t even look at him. You always stare at the floor, when he tries to speak you give him the same treatment as the girls, screaming at him and slamming the door.

Why should you let them in? You know what they are. They’re here to spy on you, to be Kodo’s eyes while he’s busy being king. They’re easy to evade. When you leave to fetch yourself food or a book from the library you easily outrun them. The two girls are worse at navigating the castle than you were when you first arrived and new Leo has a bad leg, sometimes he’ll make attempts to limp after you but they’re always unsuccessful.

You think of nothing, day after day because there is nothing to think about.

Except for the fact that Kodo took your future away from you. He took everything from you.

If you thought time was blending before Din’s death nothing could have prepared you for now. You don’t track the days as well, you keep your curtains drawn and only leave when you get hungry or start to think of Din. The last thing you need to do is have another screaming fit so you keep him locked away in your heart, an ache that’s always there that you don’t address.

One day, in a fit of tears you took your knife and decided on a whim to kill Kodo. You didn’t care about the repercussions at that point you just wanted him to suffer but the moment you opened the door you nearly tripped, stumbling backwards the guards didn’t so much as glance at you.

Another vase of flowers.

You’re tempted to just kick them down the hall but you can’t help yourself when you lean down to pick them up.

A bouquet of blue lilies. Your nose twitches at the sight of them, out of the corner of your eye you see new Lysa and new Elaine approaching so you take the opportunity to slam the little glass vase into the stone floor. Glaring at them when you do before returning to your room.

☆

Maybe it’s been three days since Din died.

Maybe it’s been three months.

You aren’t sure.

You aren’t sure when you made plans to kill Kodo either but suddenly you have them. A fool proof way to get him alone.

And suddenly you’re dressed for the first time in, well, however long it’s been. In a baby blue nightie with a robe you march out into the hall. The guards watch in silence as you walk away, your bare feet scampering down the stairs until you find yourself watching the main entrance. Waiting for your loving husband to make his nightly trip to a pleasure house, a trip that is typically accompanied by guards.

You grip the handle of the knife in your pocket as you wait until you finally hear footsteps approaching.

“Kodo, honey?” You step out from behind the stone column, holding your robe closed as you bat your eyelashes at him. He stumbles around drunkenly until his eyes focus on you.

You’ve only used your voice for screaming for so long you sound meek, exactly as you want to right now.

“Wife?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to join me tonight…” You hold a hand out towards him, putting on a sickly sweet tone of innocence. His mouth twists into a grin.

“I knew you’d come around eventually.”

He doesn’t question where you’re taking him, he simply follows.

What a joke.

You pull him up the stairs, you know from hide and seek where to find an empty room so you guide him there in calculated silence until he trips a bit, laughing to himself as he stutters.

“I knew if I got rid of the Mandalorian you’d realize how much better I am than him.” The statement doesn’t sit right with you and he can see it on your face, even in his drunken state he can sense your confusion.

You both stop, you’re above him on the stairs as you turn and stare into his eyes.

“You- you knew?”

He simply nods, that sickening smile of his is plastered on his face. His icy blue eyes shimmer with delight.

“How long?”

“When Leo told me I remembered everything. That little altercation in the hall when your boy knocked me out came right back to me, from there it wasn’t hard to figure out.” Your eye twitches as he speaks.

He knew you loved him and he took him from you anyway.

Any hesitations you had are gone as you nod, pulling him onward until you reach the large vacant tower room. He’s so drunk you decide to just drop the voice, pointing at a spot on the floor.

“Lay down.” You mumble, reaching into your pocket once more.

He eagerly does as he’s told, laying down on the cold stone, you take a deep breath, in one swift motion you grab your knife, holding it behind your back as you toss your robe aside. He gives you a toothy grin as you ever so slowly walk to him, standing above him before sitting, straddling his waist.

You look him up and down, one last time.

Your loving husband.

One of his hands plays with the blue lace of your nightie as you collect yourself. You look up at the ceiling briefly.

I’m sorry.

Not for Kodo, but for Din. This is exactly what he didn’t want you to do.

You aren’t a killer. And you aren’t hateful, but a person can only be pushed so far before something breaks.

Be smart.

You think of Din’s note one last time before you bring the blade out in front of you and slam the blade into Kodo’s chest.

He makes a sickly wet sound, coughing as he stares at you in shock.

You remove the knife, the hot steel cauterizes his wounds, there isn’t so much as a drop of blood as your face twists with fury and you bring it down again into his stomach now.

How dare he look surprised by any of this.

After what he took from you? He deserves galaxies worse.

So you remove the knife.

And you stab him again.

And again,

and again,

and again.

Until there is no more shocked look on his face. You don’t have a snarky remark or a statement to commemorate your revenge, you’re all used up at this point, all you have is this, this stabbing motion.

He didn’t even have a chance to fight back.

You crawl off of his body, sitting on the stones as you toss the knife to the side, waiting for a rush of euphoria.

But it never comes.

It doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would.

Staring down at Kodo’s lifeless body. You let yourself crumble. Collapsing down onto the floor, gasping for air as you sob.

This was never going to bring him back.

You lay there on your hands and knees for quite some time, just wailing, because what else are you supposed to do right now? You realize far too late that this was never an act of malice, some demented and shattered part of you thought that this would somehow bring him back, that it would give you peace.

They won’t execute you.

You planned this exactly so they wouldn’t.

Kodo didn’t tell anyone about your relationship with Din in much detail, not enough for them to assume that you could be with child. Everyone will assume that it’s Kodo’s. They won’t kill you, they can’t.

Not if they think you’re carrying Kodo’s child. Now that Kodo’s dead, there’s no one to tell the royal family that you never consummated your marriage, your child is the most well protected person on the planet. The future monarch. It’s almost funny, you haven’t permitted yourself to think about the stirring within you as a child until just now, in this moment of weakness. A child, your child.

Who will most likely grow up without a mother because of the decisions you've made today.

You bite your fist, swallowing a scream as you sit back on your heels.

Your child will never know how loved they were. Your little one will never get to sit beside their mother while their father teaches them to sew. You put your head in your hands as you wail, no longer caring who hears. Your fate is sealed, what does it matter?

You don’t turn when you hear someone coming up the stairs. When they pull you into their arms you try uselessly to shove them away. Your vision is blurry and filled with tears as you stare up at the unfamiliar figure now holding you. They rub your back, drawing swirls and stars against your spine as they pull you closer.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” They mumble into your hair. You dry your eyes hastily on your sleeve, confused by the voice you’re hearing, it’s painfully familiar, on instinct you wrap your arms around their torso, pulling yourself into their lap as you both sit on the floor beside Kodo’s body. “You’re okay, I’m here.”

“I’m- I’m sorry.” You whisper against the stranger's shirt. You knew you weren’t hateful. You’re certain of it now because even though he took quite literally everything from you, you still feel bad when you look at Kodo.

A large hand cups your face, pulling you back to their chest so you can’t see the corpse anymore.

“I didn’t mean it- I- I didn’t mean to kill him. Well I did but I just-” You begin to ramble as a fresh flood of tears begin sliding down your cheeks.

“Hey- hey it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. We gotta get you cleaned up, okay? I’ll take care of this, I’ll fix it.” Their arms tighten around you, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You finally find the courage to look at your companion and it takes a moment for you to even realize who you’re looking at.

New Leo.

Why would he help you? You treat him like shit. When you look at him he looks like he’s about to cry and for the first time since Din was taken from you drop the walls you’ve put up and you let yourself feel bad for him. You show an ounce of kindness to him because in all honesty he’s the first person to make you feel safe since the night Din was taken from you.

A lighthouse while you sail through a storm.

So you hug him.

You pull yourself closer to him and you offer him a comfort you haven’t known for days.

“I’m sorry… for all of it, but especially the flowers, I should have told you, I just- you wouldn’t let me and the guards wouldn’t let me in without your permission and you just wouldn’t look at me.” He begins to mumble his own apologies, sending a surge of confusion through you.

You furrow your brows, pulling back once more giving him a perplexed look as you search his nearly black eyes for some kind of answer.

And it clicks.

All at once it snaps into place and you want to say his name, so desperately, but you’re terribly afraid of being wrong.

And then he smiles. A soft smile that makes you feel okay and you don’t even care if you’re wrong and you don’t care if it doesn’t make sense you just have to ask.

“Din?”

☆

a/n : yeah so uhhhhh yeah uhhhh this is the first chapter i've ever written where im actually very fond of the writing and nervous about the plot stuff so im gonna go hide?? and just vanish for a while lol

I don't have a tag list anymore !! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates!!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you

536 notes · View notes

melanchol1cs · 8 months ago

Text

THE AMERICAN DREAM

leon kennedy x f!reader

word count: 2.4k summary: living the picture perfect marriage with leon. masterlist | taglist | wips

18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE. typical american marriage, mentions of abuse, throwing up, drugging/use of drugs, gaslighting, leon being mean and condescending — he’s very ooc in this one, non-con, basically somnophilia, unprotected sex, p in v, choking, slapping, spanking, spitting, fingering(vaginal and mouth), degrading language.

a/n: 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL !! thank you so much everyone <3 sorry if the writing on this ones a little sloppy, this one’s mostly self indulgent and i was half asleep when making this so i didn’t really know what i was writing down. anyways, hope you guys enjoy this, love you all xx.

you loved your husband. your relationship was everything you’ve ever wanted. a nice house in a beautiful suburb — white picket fence and all — a doting husband, and an idyllic life that seemed straight out of a hollywood movie. each day was laced with domestic bliss.

everything was perfect, living the dream with the perfect husband. you don't even remember the fact that he took you away from your family. or that he was systematically drugging you, slipping small doses of amnesiacs into your food and drink to keep your memory fuzzy and prevent you from remembering the fact that he was basically abusing and raping you on a daily basis. the drug kept you docile and unquestioning.

sometimes, you have nightmares about it, though you can’t really remember anything, and you think they’re just things your brain like to make up.

you woke up with a start, your hands clenched tightly into fists in the bed sheets as your breath came in sharp and fast. the room was quiet, except for the soft ticking of the clock. it’s the same nightmare, the same thing that leaves you feeling disoriented and unsettled, but you can't recall the details.

you felt your husband shift behind you, his warm body pressing against yours. "mm, baby," his groggy voice rumbled sleepily, his hands slipping around your waist to pull you closer against him, a touch meant to be soothing. his chin rested against your shoulder, his lips trailing languidly across the nape of your neck. “you okay?”

“another nightmare?” he murmured lowly, sensing your unease.

"i— i'm gonna throw up,”

a slight pause and then leon sprung into action. he immediately rolled over and gently pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest while he carried you towards the bathroom.

“it’s alright, sweetheart. let it all out,” he soothed, his voice a soft, comforting murmur as he cradled you closely. he leaned you over the toilet, holding your hair back as you wretched and retched.

he held you close to him, gently massaging your back with one hand, stroking your spine soothingly with his fingers, all while using his other hand to hold your hair back.

“i’ve got you,” he whispered softly, pressing gentle kisses on the crown of your head, his arms holding you firmly yet gently as you hunched over the toilet. his free hand reaches over to grab a clean towel and wiping away any remnants of vomit from your lips.

after a few moments, your body slumped and you gasped for breath, leaning against him for support. he continued to hold you gently, running his fingers softly over your clammy skin.

"tea?" you looked up at him with hazy eyes, still feeling queasy. the room was spinning and your stomach churned at the mere thought of food. but the idea of drinking something soothing sounded nice.

"yes... please,"

he ushers you into the kitchen, fetching a tea bag and a cup from the cabinet and pouring in some boiling water from the kettle. he sets the cup on the table and takes a seat across from you.

“here,” he hands you a steaming mug of tea, his large hand brushing against yours for just a moment. you take a sip and it tastes strange — slightly bitter and with a weird aftertaste. but it does seem to ease the churning in your stomach.

he sighs in relief as you take another sip of your tea, not noticing the small pill dissolved in the cup.

“there we go, sweetheart. i know you've been feeling a bit under the weather lately. that’ll help you relax and feel better in no time,”

he smiles warmly, pretending to care about your wellbeing, when in reality he's just trying to keep you sedated so you don't realize what a hellish existence you're living.

you blinked slowly, the warm tea feeling good as it slid down your throat. the room was still spinning a bit, but you felt yourself starting to relax. leon watched you carefully, relieved that the nausea seemed to be subsiding.

“feel dizzy,” you mumble slowly.

he reached across the table to pat your hand gently. "there, there sweetheart. why don’t i take you back to bed so you can rest? you’re clearly exhausted,"

without waiting for a response, he helps you to your feet and steers you towards the bedroom. you stumble and sway on unsteady legs, unable to resist as he guides you. once you're on the bed, he covers you with a blanket and tucks you in snugly.

"oh, my poor baby.. i’ll join you in a few minutes, just gonna wash up the dishes in the kitchen."

you can barely keep your eyes open as the drug pulls you under. your last thought is wondering why you feel so tired all the time, before slipping into a deep, medicated slumber. you snuggle deeper into the blankets, your eyelids growing heavier by the second. leon lingers by the bedside, watching you with a mixture of amusement and anticipation.

soon, your breathing evens out and your body goes limp, succumbing to the drug's effects. leon smiles, satisfied. he knows he has a window of opportunity before you wake up again. without wasting any time, he quietly slips up your nightgown, exposing your tender flesh to his hungry eyes and eager touch. his hands roam freely over your body, groping and squeezing as he pleases. he reaches up and cups one breast with each hand, weighing them appreciatively.

he leans down and starts planting wet kisses across your neck and chest, staying close so you don't stir.

then he's on top of you, shoving his pants down and mounting you roughly.

your moans and protests are muffled by your sleep-addled state as he ravages you mercilessly, using his big, strong hands to hold you down and shut you up.

“l-lee—leon,” you manage to mumble.

leon silences you by reaching down and forcing two fingers into your mouth, thrusting them between your lips.

"shh, ‘ts okay baby," he hums into your ear, giving your cunt a light slap that makes you yelp around his fingers. "such a good girl, taking it so well," he praises you with a growl as he works your mouth open with his fingers, stretching your jaw wide for his invasion. your protests are swallowed by your own gag reflex as he fucks your face with no regard for your well-being.

your mind is hazy and you can't seem to rouse yourself enough to push him away. he's just too strong, too overpowering. you're at his mercy, helpless to resist as he takes what he wants.

his fingers finally slip free from your mouth, coated in saliva. he uses that same hand to roughly spread your legs further apart, pleased with how easily he’s able to violate you in your vulnerable state.

he flips you upright and pulls your hips back, exposing your pussy to the air. he runs a finger along your slit, feeling how wet he's made you.

"look at you, getting all worked up over nothing," he chuckles darkly, spreading your lips and poking his big finger into your entrance.

“so wet f’me,” he coos, sliding his finger inside you and starts to pump it, scissoring it to stretch you. you moan and wriggle against him, still only semi-conscious.

leon ignores your attempts at protest, too focused on his own pleasure. his hips start rocking, his hard cock rubbing against your thighs as he uses you like a doll. “fucking slut, getting off to this," he growls, giving your clit a harsh pinch that makes you whine. his words are thick with insincerity, a mocking edge to his voice as he uses the pet name he knows you love. in reality, he despises you and views you as nothing more than an object to use at his leisure.

you try to push him away with your sleepy hands, clawing and flailing your arms, but he pins them to the mattress easily. he's too strong, and you're too weak from the drugs coursing through your system.

“be good and stay still," he growls, smashing his mouth down on yours to muffle any screams that might escape. his tongue probes aggressively at your lips, seeking entry. you cry out as he thrusts his thick cock into your resistance, splitting you open and making you scream. his hips start pounding into you with renewed vigor, bouncing off your ass as he breeds you hard and fast. the bed creaks and shifts with each brutal thrust.

"so fucking tight," he groans, starting to piston his hips, using your throat for leverage.

he grunts and growls as he ruts into you like a beast, your body sloppily pressed against his. your head is forced to bob up and down on his cock as he thrusts, drool streaming down your chin. your muffled whimpers and protests are lost around his shaft. “look at that, you take my cock so well baby," his filthy words are punctuated by sharp smacks to your ass and thighs, keeping you off-balance and unable to fully rouse. he's relentless, using your mouth and body for his own sick satisfaction.

your struggles weaken further as the air gets cut off from your lungs. he pauses to spit in your face, the slick substance mingling with your tears and drool. “what’s the matter sweetheart? can’t breathe?" he taunts, smacking your face. "just relax, you can take it." he punctuates his words with a sharp smack to your inner thigh, making you gasp and squirm beneath him.

the bed frame creaks ominously with each powerful thrust, threatening to give way and spill you both to the floor. his hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, pulling your hair, slapping your ass. he's completely lost in his own pleasure, using you as a means to an end. you try to squirm away from him, but it's futile. he's too strong, and you're too drowsy. he simply reaches up and clamps a hand over your mouth, muffling any cries for help.

"quit fucking squirming," he growls. but somehow, he’s lying. he wants you to fight back, to struggle and make it harder for him. it's more exciting that way. your throat burns as he continues to use it as leverage, twisting your head with every brutal thrust. tears stream down your cheeks, your eyes squeezed shut in fear and pain.

saliva and juices run down your thighs as he slams into you without mercy. your mind is fuzzy and disconnected, unable to fully process the assault on your body. all you can do is endure, a ragdoll for leon to use and abuse as he sees fit.

"atta girl," he hisses. "take it, baby." he punctuates his words with another sharp smack to the ass, the sting adding to your growing pile of discomfort.

you can only moan and mewl in response, too far gone to resist. your body is numb, your mind foggy and detached.

you try to nod, too weak to do anything but comply. he loosens his grip on your throat and moves his hand back to your hip, pulling you against him roughly. his cock throbs inside you, swelling up further as he gets close to coming.

"fuck, gonna cum," he warns, his hips redoubling their pace. you moan helplessly as he breeds you hard and fast, the bed creaking and shifting under you. he slaps your ass hard twice, the sound echoing in the room. he groans, coming with a loud grunt. your body is wracked with shudders as he fills you with his cum, your cunt clamping down on his shaft to milk him for every drop.

when he finally pulls out, you're left gasping and sputtering, drool dripping down your face. you lie there in stunned silence afterwards, sprawled beneath him in a puddle of your own fluids. leon collapses on top of you, pinning you to the bed as his chest heaves with exertion.

you're still drifting in and out of consciousness when leon rolls off of you and onto his side, facing away from you. your mind is a fog, struggling to process the events that just transpired. a small sob escapes your lips as you try to make sense of the pain, confusion, and shame that's flooding through you.

after what felt like an eternity, leon reaches over and pulls you into his side, pressing your body close to his. you can feel his warmth, his heartbeat, away his arms are uncomfortably resting atop your skin.

slowly but surely, the fog in your mind starts to clear. you become aware of the dull ache in your throat, the soreness of between your legs, and the disgust you feel for yourself.

fresh tears spring to your eyes as the reality of your situation comes crashing down on you.

"shh, calm down baby," he whispers, stroking your hair soothingly. but his touch is cold and clammy, sending shivers down your spine.

your body feels heavy and numb, your mind hazy and disconnected. slowly, your eyes flutter open. the room is blurry, the edges fuzzy. you try to move, but your limbs feel like lead. leon's face swims into view, his features distorted. "you had a bad dream," he murmurs, his voice sounding distant.

"just another nightmare, sweetheart. it’s okay, i'm here." his words are slurred, his face wobbly. you try to focus, but it's impossible. your vision starts to tunnel, fading to black. the last thing you hear is leon's gentle humming, lulling you back to sleep.

when you wake again, you'll have no memory of the nightmare, no recollection of the way he violated and degraded you. the drug will ensure that. all you'll know is that you slept fitfully and woke up feeling unwell.

tags: @crowleyco @arcane5019

209 notes · View notes

midnightsnyx · 9 months ago

Text

girl at home | mat barzal | part 10

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of alcohol and vomit & fluff and not edited!! word count: 2.6k

a/n: so obviously this is fiction and we don't actually know what Mat or Liana or his parents personalities are actually like but I took some liberty with Liana's personality. see end for more notes cause I don't want to spoil anything :) also sorry this is so late!! i went back to work and then had trouble with this chapter. i hope you all enjoy! likes, reblogs and comments feed my writing soul so let me know what you think <3

masterlist masterpost ask box

Liana texts you the day after your meet-up with Mat at the park, apologizing for getting angry with you and asking to go out for drinks. You don’t have it in you to still be upset with her for yelling at you because she was always the little sister you never had and just because you and Mat are having problems, doesn’t mean it should affect your relationship with her. Sometimes you wonder if you’re too quick to forgive and forget but you know that this is an exception.

“It’s just weird, y’know?” Liana mutters, laying her head on the dirty bar table. She’s on her third drink and you’re close to cutting her off. “I’m going to be an aunt again, but I have this odd feeling about Calista. Like she’s not telling the entire truth.”

You startle when she suddenly bolts upright and looks at you with wide eyes.

“What if Mat’s not the father? That would make so much sense!”

“How so?” you ask carefully. So far, you have successfully kept the fact that Calista is not pregnant a secret. It’s a secret you will have to take to your grave because you can’t let Marlee get in trouble when all she was doing was trying to help you. The truth might come out some day, but it’s something you will deal with then.

“Mat is just being weird about the whole thing, like he’s hiding something,” she says. “Well, besides the fact that he hasn’t told mom or dad… but there’s something else.” She picks up her glass and drinks the last of her martini before signinally the bartender for a refill.

“I think it’s time we switch you to Shirley Temples,” you say gently, asking the bartender for a couple glasses of water.

She tries to wave you off when you push the water towards her but you give her the all too familiar look that you used to give her when you were both younger.

“Fine, but if I’m getting cut off, so–” she stops talking abruptly, suddenly focused on something across the room. You turn and see a familiar face that makes your heart drop into your stomach because there’s no way she’s that stupid and you’re about to say something but Liana hops off her barstool and before you can stop her, she’s marching across the room to where Calista is sitting. She’s surrounded by a few other people, one of them being a guy you can’t quite place but definitely isn’t Mat, but the real kicker is the drink in her hand.

You’re not in the business of accusing people but the way she’s laughing loudly and swaying a little in her seat makes you think that it’s not a non-alcoholic drink. You stare a little too long because when you snap out of your stupor, it’s to a loud shriek and shouting. Nearly tripping over your own feet, you rush over to find both Calista and Liana being held back by people and shouting at each other. You manage to drag Liana out of the hands of the person holding her back but you can’t help but stare at Calista in shock. You know she’s not pregnant but you didn’t think she was stupid enough to test her luck by getting drunk at a bar and possibly being seen by people who think she is.

“I knew something was off about you,” Liana shouts at Calista who only now seems to realize that you are also in the room. Her face, which was red, pales considerably and her eyes widen when she looks at you.

“You are pregnant!” Liana shrieks and when you hear people gasping and the whispers start, you know you need to get Liana out of here now.

With strength you didn’t realize you have, you drag her outside. She shakes you off as soon as you’re out the doors and promptly throws up all over your shoes. You don’t give yourself time to be grossed out, pulling your phone out of your pocket and calling the first person you think of.

“Hello?” Jax mumbles and you’re panicking enough that you can’t feel sorry that you woke him up.

“I need you to pick us up,” you gasp and suddenly you’re sixteen again, calling him to pick you up from a party that you snuck out to.

Jax doesn’t hesitate before agreeing and asking where you are. You rattle off the name of the bar and he says he’ll be there in ten minutes even though you know his apartment is at least twenty minutes away. You’ve never been so grateful to have him as a friend.

“You didn’t call Mat, right?” Liana asks quietly and you look to see her sitting on the curb, looking absolutely miserable. Her eyes are filled with unspilled tears and you can only imagine what’s going on in her head.

“No,” you tell her, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her. “I called Jax.”

She nods and leans her head on your shoulder. You sit in silence for a few minutes before she speaks and her voice is quiet and shaky.

“She was never pregnant, was she?”

Maybe it’s the natural motherly instinct in you, but you realize you can’t lie to her when she’s so upset.

“No,” you tell her and then she’s crying. You know that she’s drunk which makes her more emotionally vulnerable but you also know how sensitive she’s always been and it’s not a weakness. She wears her emotions on her sleeve and it’s only ever made her kinder and wiser than she should be for her age.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you when Mat told me but I was so confused and upset that he was keeping it from us.”

Then she’s crying even harder. “Oh god, what are we going to tell Mat?”

Truthfully, in the chaos of all this, you haven’t had the chance to think about what you’ll do about Mat. You know Liana won’t keep the truth from him and even if she did, word travels fast and he would eventually find out. You’re not certain he can mentally handle this, not with everything that’s going on between the two of you and his fragile relationship with Nora. He was just getting used to the fact that he has a daughter when Calista dropped the baby bomb on him and now to find out that it’s been a lie? You’ve no idea what he will do.

“I don’t know,” you tell her honestly and sigh in relief when you see Jax’s car come into view. You stand up, helping her back to her feet just as Jax parks and gets out to help you.

He looks worried but doesn’t say anything about yours or Liana’s appearance. Once you’re both settled in his car, he tells you he’s going to bring you both to his apartment for the night, obviously not feeling comfortable dropping you home when you’re upset and intoxicated. You know he’s right but all you want to do is curl up in your own bed.

“Alright,” you agree eventually and he nods, starting the drive back to his place. You must nod off because the next thing you know, Jax is gently shaking your arm, waking you up.

“I can’t carry you both in,” he jokes and you look back to see Liana completely knocked out. She grumbles when you wake her but she’s coherent enough to walk.

Jax’s boyfriend, Eli, already has their guestroom set up so you get Liana in the bed and then situate yourself on the air mattress. Jax leaves with a promise to check on you both throughout the night and if you weren’t so worried about Liana, you would tell him not to worry but you’re not taking any chances with her.

You lay awake for a while, not able to get the image of Calista drunk and with another guy out of your head. You don’t know how to tell Mat about it and Liana probably won’t either but eventually you drift off to sleep.

. . .

The next morning, you wake before Liana. Jax came in and checked on you both a few times before deciding that it was okay to leave you so you’re surprised to find him awake when you make your way out to the kitchen. It’s just past 8 o’clock but he’s cooking breakfast, singing off tune to Taylor Swift.

“Hey,” you say softly, sitting at the breakfast bar. You know he’s going to want an explanation because even though he let you off the hook last night, he’s going to want to know why Liana was crying and you had vomit on your shoes when he picked you up.

“Morning,” he replies, placing a coffee in front of you and a piece of plain toast. You can feel his eyes watching you eat and once you’re done, he looks at you expectantly.

“We saw Calista at the bar last night,” you explain. “Drunk and with some random guy.”

“Huh,” he says, so you look at him. His face is neutral, not showing if he’s surprised.

“What does huh mean?”

“I mean, you did say something was off about her.”

That was putting it lightly because although you couldn’t tell him the full story in fear that Marlee would lose her job, you did express your concerns about her without telling him that you knew she wasn’t pregnant.

“Yeah,” you sigh.

You hear shuffling from the guest room and look to see Liana walking into the kitchen. She plops down next to you and groans.

“I’m never drinking again,” she says and you can’t help but chuckle despite the circumstances.

“Said every hungover person ever,” you say and a small smile crosses her face before she frowns, clearly remembering last night's events.

“I have to tell Mat,” she says. “It’s not fair to him that she lied.”

You sigh but nod in agreement.

“I have to pick Nora up from my moms,” you tell her. “Are you okay to tell him yourself?”

You really don’t want to be there when Mat finds out, not when you’re dealing with your own feelings towards him.

“Yeah,” she says, eating the toast Jax offers her.

You both finish your coffee and then Jax drives you to your apartment and you drop Liana home before picking Nora up.

She’s ecstatic to see you, telling you everything she did with grandma from the moment you dropped her off until now picking her up.

“And then, Millie hissed at me but Gizmo barked and scared her away,” she takes a deep breath before continuing her ramblings. “Can we get a kitten?”

“You’re allergic, remember?” You remind her, and then a thought pops into your mind. Where did she see your mother’s neighbor's cat? “Where did you see Millie?”

“Mrs. Turner invited us over for tea,” she tells you and then offhandedly adds: “she asked about you and Mat.”

This doesn’t surprise you because Mrs. Edna Turner is quite the gossiper. You have trust in your mother that she didn’t tell Edna anything private but you’re still curious what exactly they talked about and you know that your child can be sneaky when she wants to be.

“What did Mrs.Turner ask?” you ask, rolling your eyes when she sighs dramatically and puts her tablet away.

“Well, first she asked if Mat was really my daddy and when Grandma said yes, she said ‘that poor child’,” she says, face scrunching up in confusion. “What does that mean?”

You make a mental note to talk to your mom about bringing Nora to any future tea parties at Mrs. Turner’s.

“Nothing,” you assure her. “What else did she say?”

“She told grandma that if she were you, she wouldn’t move me to New York.” Her eyes narrow and she frowns. “I thought you said we weren’t moving to New York.”

“We’re not.”

“Then how come Mrs.Turner said that?” she demands.

“‘Cause Mrs. Turner doesn’t know how to mind her own business,” you mumble and then sigh, looking at Nora so she’s listening. “We’re not moving to New York, okay?”

She nods and then smiles. “Can we go get ice cream?”

“Yeah, we can go get ice cream,” you tell her even though it’s nearly dinner.

Every once in awhile, ice cream for dinner is in order.

. . .

It’s past midnight when there’s a quiet knock on your door, and the only reason you’re awake to hear it is because Liana let you know she told Mat the truth about Calista. She told you that he had left the house as soon as she told him that morning and hadn’t returned home all day. You were expecting a text from him but your phone was silent and that worried you even more.

So, when you open the door to find Mat standing in front of you, red rimmed eyes and looking about two seconds away from crying, you don’t hesitate to let him inside. He slips past you and toes his shoes off before going straight for the couch and sitting down on it. You hesitate, but eventually settle down next to him.

He’s resting his elbows on his knees, hiding his face in his hands and it takes you a minute to realize he’s crying silently.

“Mat…”

“I just - fuck, I thought that this was my second chance, you know? It wasn’t ideal but I would get to do all the things I missed with Nora,” he says, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I was such an idiot.”

It’s not a dig towards you but you still can’t shake the guilt you always feel when he talks about everything he didn’t get to see. Her first steps, first words, first day of kindergarten. All the things you can never get back.

“It’s not your fault,” you say gently. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I should’ve,” he mumbles and before you can say anything, you hear soft footsteps coming down the hallway. You look to see Nora, rubbing her eyes sleepily and frowning when she sees Mat.

When he realizes she’s there, he wipes his eyes hastily but it’s not fast enough because Nora walks over to him and deepens her frown.

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly, reaching out and touching his cheek that’s still damp.

Mat looks like he’s going to say that he’s fine but seems to change his mind last minute. He smiles sadly and shakes his head.

“Not really, peanut,” he tells her and the frown on her face deepens even more than you thought possible.

“Mama says hugs make things better when you’re sad,” she says, sounding much wiser than a six-year-old should sound. Then, without asking, she climbs up onto his lap and wraps her tiny arms around his neck and hugs him. You can see the moment Mat breaks, hugging her back gently and it’s like all the tension drains from his body.

You call it the “Nora Effect”, because her little hugs always seem to make you feel better.

“I’m so sorry, Nora,” you hear Mat whisper and you know he’s going to beat himself up over everything that’s happened with Calista - and Nora deserves his apologies, but your kid is one of a kind and you know that she will forgive him.

With time, if he proves himself, he’ll have a place in her life and you can’t wait to see what the future holds for them.

authors notes: so calista is goneeeee FINALLY. she wasn't supposed to be here as long as she was but I got too carried away with that storyline and i'm glad it's over lol also, I had mixed thoughts about having mama be the one who told Mat that Calista was lying but I just couldn't get it right so I figured next best thing would be Liana! ps: millie is named after my own cat who i will put a pic of in the comments below

tag list: @literatureluster @dasiysthings @diary-of-jj @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls @lovinbarzal @whatthepuckisgoingon @teapartydreams @alilstressyandlotdepressy @keiva1000 @hischiershoe @bellstwd

@alwaysclassyeagle @brrbrina @nonsensical-nonsence @love-like-woaah @swift-sos @barzygirl13 @ilyrafe

if you want to be added or taken off the list, please let me know :)

#allies writing #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fic #mat barzal x you #mathew barzal x reader #hockey fanficiton #hockey imagine

232 notes · View notes

piftamere · 2 months ago

Text

seventeen - look back (wc : 1.3k ; cw : mention of vomit)

she found it weird, at first, when they all insisted on going out with her tonight. even weirder when she hesitated, saying she wasn’t sure she felt like it, and they practically dragged her out the door. but the strangest part came when kiyoko showed up at the bar, unannounced, buying her drink after drink, claiming that she was trying to make it up to her. something was off. she felt it deep in her gut. and yet, she chose to brush it away, the deafening music, the heat of the crowded bar pressing in on her until all her senses seemed to blur together.

she lets herself get lost in it. arms raised above her head, swaying to the bass, the vibrations reverberating in her rib cage. the colored lights paint streaks of blue, red and purple across her skin. the air is thick, humid, a clear scent of sweat and liquor clinging to her. her now slightly damp hair sticks to her cheeks, to the back of her neck

the shots burned a path down her throat, a dizzying sense of tranquility blooming in her chest.

she spins, laughing, the room tilting just enough to make it seem surreal, like a dream.

she spots atsumu from across the bar, their gazes catching like magnets. the music seems to slow down, the sounds muffled as everything fades into the background. she freezes, her breath catching in her throat. on the other side, atsumu stands equally, unable to tear his eyes away, like a deer in headlights watching his doom approach, inevitable.

a sudden jolt breaks the spell, a guy bumps into him, his drink spilling over the rim of his cup. the blonde stumbles back, the sticky cold liquid splashes all over his shoes.

the guy mumbles out a half-assed apology, more distracted than sorry, but atsumu doesn’t hear it, he doesn’t care. when he glances back up, she's gone. he spots her back disappearing behind a door leading to the alley behind the bar.

she’s leaning against the cold bricks, her skimpy going-out outfit leaving enough exposed skin for the icy touch to anchor her in the moment. the smell of the dumpster next to her is making her stomach churn, she doesn’t wanna puke but she’s frozen in place. her breath is fast and unsteady, she’s tightening her fists in an effort to get over herself and face the situation, nails digging into her palms. damn kiyoko and the 5 drinks she bought her, she can’t think straight. the alley is finally starting to stop spinning when she hears the door next to her slam loudly.

she winces at the sound. probably just some guy too lazy to wait in line for the bathroom, she assumes.

except it’s not.

atsumu clears his throat, partly because he’s not sure that he can talk in this moment, and partly to make her notice his presence. the noise is hesitant, awkward.

in the corner of her eye, she recognizes his shoes, and the alley spins once more.

they both stay silent. she’s wishing, praying, he’s just a figment of her imagination. and he’s hoping the right words will come to him.

“you-” atsumu starts, just as she says, “i-”

they both stop, she risks a glance at his face. he chuckles awkwardly, though nothing about this feels funny. the air between them is thick, heavy with regrets, lies, worry.

“sorry.” she blurts out, the word burning her throat, it takes a lot for her to admit it, “shouldn’t have disappeared like that.”

“you needed time, ‘s okay.” it’s not okay, but that’s the only thing he can think of. his voice is softer when he adds, “your mom seems like a lot.” it wasn’t hard to understand who the woman from the other night was.

atsumu doesn’t miss the way she flinches at the mention of her mother, like she’s bracing herself. he immediately regrets bringing her up.

“how’ve you been?” he asks, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. he leans against the wall a few meters away from her, deliberately putting space between them but still staying close enough to show he’s not going anywhere. not this time.

“meh.” she shrugs, still looking at the brick wall facing them. “i saw your mom at the grocery store the other day. she asked me if we had a fight.” she chuckles, cold and bitter.

“she did?”

“she also said i should talk to you.” she presses her lips together, hesitating. that’s not exactly what happened, but he doesn’t need to know that.

he nods slowly, already making a mental note to thank his mom the next time he sees her. before he can speak, she continues.

“i was so mad at you for being right.” the words tumble out, slurred. the fog in her brain clouding her judgment, making the truth spill out in a way she can’t control. she slides down the wall, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapping tightly around them as though she’s trying to disappear.

she presses her face into her skin, voice muffled. “maybe i’m still mad.”

atsumu stares at her for a second, trying to piece together what she’s saying. he kneels, his body lowering to match hers, as if that could somehow close the emotional distance she puts between them.

“mad? about?” he asks, soft, careful.

she laughs again, joyless. “he fucked me for a few weeks and he ditched me, just like you said.”

her laugh dies, her breath hitching on the last word, and then, silence.

atsumu’s stomach twists, he feels it sink down to his feet, the shame and guilt suffocating him.

flashes from that night burn into his memory. the faceless girl trailing after his asshole teammate, the one he had so much fun belittling behind her back, smug and thoughtless. the one whose shoes he threw up on. he wants to apologize, to take it back, claim he was just a drunk idiot, but every word feels cheap and hollow.

"you wanna know something pathetic?” her voice trembles, and she hugs her knees tighter, “i didn't even like him. not really.” she shudders. “just thought it would be nice…. to know i could be wanted. loved."

atsumu feels his chest crack open. he thinks he sees a tear run down her cheek, her eyes are glossy. it must be the street lights shining in them, maybe the alcohol is getting to his head. that must be it. or maybe, he just can’t face the truth, feeling too much like her pain is his fault.

still, he reaches out. his hand hovers, uncertain, he doesn’t know what he’s offering, or asking. comfort? forgiveness?

to his surprise, she doesn’t flinch when he sets his palm gently on her shoulder. she relaxes, just barely, and he swears he feels her lean into his touch. her head falls against his shoulder, resting a little uncomfortably.

he wipes down her cheek, and their eyes lock. hers are red and a bit puffy, but he’s looking at her with the same adoration from before.

they blink a few times, he feels her breath, warm and uneven, ghosting against his skin. it smells like mint and alcohol but he doesn’t move away.

then, too soon to his taste, she shifts, the walls coming back up. she straightens up, wiping her face roughly with the back of her hand. without looking at him, she mumbles, “see ya.”

he watches her silhouette getting smaller and smaller until she disappears into the night, arms wrapped tightly around her. he wants to call out, to make her stay, but his voice dies in his throat.

she doesn’t look back.

fun facts

sakusa had to push atsumu to go after yn, the poor guy was too nervous. after that, sakusa left the bar. he considered his mission complete.

kageyama is pissed off they can't work their shit out without involving him (and that it caused a fight between hinata and him)

the fight started when they were in bed together the next day, and kags asked hinata to keep waiting and say nothing.

the guilt was eating at hinata, he's not used to lying.

he told him over text because he was worried he'd chicken out if he waited to do it in person

atsumu is crashing out

author's note

i love angst

play dumb! - next

taglist : open!

@alpha-mommy69 @bakugouswh0r3 @giocriedpower @itsdragonius @haechansbbg @wondipity @iaminyourfloors @na0koz @from-mae @eusaevi @kr1nqu @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @thechaosoflonging @littlemiyastars @seikamuzu @nymphsdomain @r4veeen @shesabeeler @meekydeeks @justanotherweeb666 @bxbygurlisa @lvtilzs @fi-chanwrites @hanniesdegree @brilliantshoyo

if you're name is crossed out i couldn't tag you, if it's not fixed in a week i'll remove you sorry :(

66 notes · View notes

justawritterwithideas · 2 years ago

Text

Boy Wonder and the Rockstar | s.r

✩ previous part | next part ✩

summary: The BAU rushes to Washington after discovering that the lead singer of a famous band may be in danger, causing Spencer to come face to face with his past after 15 years.

general warnings: this series contains topics such as mentions of death, alcohol, drugs, strong vocabulary, as well as talk of heartbreak, disappointment and arguments. It also contains content regarding CM season 13, so it clearly contains spoilers.

chapter warnings: this chapter contains mentions of murder, vomiting, mistreatment, as well as the use of strong vocabulary. this is a spencer reid x famous!reader story.

words: 4,269 words.

a/n: hello! here i come with the second chapter of "boy wonder and the rockstar", i had fun writing this chapter as i also suffered from lack of creativity ( T T ), but finally inspiration touched me. I hope you like it. Remember to read the chapter cautions and have a good read.! English is not first language, so I may have mistakes, if so, I'm sorry. :(

𝟎.𝟐: 𝐌𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫.

For many people, memories that are related to times in their lives relate to certain aspects of the five senses, whether it's certain sounds or textures, music that brings them back to that exact memory, or simply tastes of foods that remind them of what their loved ones used to make.

For Spencer, it was smells.

Despite possessing a memory that makes him remember even the smallest detail of what happened the day before, his olfactory memory was much more developed than other senses.

During his childhood, or what he considers childhood, his memories smelled of the pages of old books that his mother read to him and her perfume, impregnated in the bed sheets when they sat together to read some classic of literature. When he was in his youth, sometimes the smells reminded him of the charcoal in his pencil, writing mathematical exercises on white sheets, or sometimes the smell of chlorine, because of the thousand times bullies forced him to go to the bathroom.

But during his college days, he always thought that the smell that would be his favorite was the soft smell of the library, of wood and humidity; but no, those memories had the smell of freshly brewed coffee, cherries and menthol cigarettes.

His good memories always brought smiles to his face in the middle of nowhere, as if he was remembering one of those old bad jokes they used to tell him and he couldn't find the humor in them, or maybe the less thought out answers to such logical questions. His good memories caused his stomach to clench tightly and his chest to feel heavy, as if a stone was replacing his heart.

Spencer knew why. Why his body felt that way.

But he didn't want to admit why.

Because if he admitted it, he knew the only reason he did would make him regret it, he would have to give reason to his sentimental side than the rational side.

And he hated not being right.

"Spence."

J.J.'s voice brought the boy back to his desk, taking his eyes off the nearly iced coffee with a pound of sugar to keep him awake.

He'd been daydreaming about Y/N's laughter in his ear for nights now, just like when they had sleepovers at her apartment. He couldn't get her out of his head, let alone get the smell out of her hair when she was the small spoon.

"What, what's going on?" the opposite replied, looking at the blonde. She seemed to be trying to decipher what was going on in her friend's head.

"I'm asking you, is something wrong, are you sleeping well?"

"Yes." Bullshit.

"Are you sure? Your eyes say otherwise." The black circles under his eyes gave him away.

"I've been sleepless for a few days, but it's because my neighbors won't let me sleep." Another bullshit.

"You should talk to them, you know." The boy nodded, giving the blonde an elongated smile and returning to his paperwork.

"Really all right?"

"Yeah, J.J. It's fine."

"'S okay, you know what you can tell me."

"Yes J.J., thank you."

The answer didn't leave the blonde satisfied, but she made an extraordinary effort to ignore his attitude and return to the desk with Luke and Matt, who had been staring at him for a couple of minutes.

"He's rambling again." Commented J.J as she returned, who kept her eyes on her best friend and tried to figure out what was wrong with him.

It was usual at this time of year, when the leaves were beginning to turn their last summer colors, that Spencer would go blank staring at a spot in the room more than once.

No one quite understood why that happened to him, the only one who knew was Gideon. But he never shared any of Spencer's secrets, not even if a gun was held to his chest.

"Guess whateee, my dear friends!" The conversation was interrupted by a cheerful and enthusiastic Penelope, who commanded everyone's attention with her sonorous voice.

"What's going on, Garcia?" Luke turned to see her, who was coming with an envelope in her hand.

"Your genius did it again, rub the wishing lamp and I got tickets to the best concert of the year - Paradox in Virginia! Can you believe it?"

"You got them!?" J.J. was the first to startle, coming closer to see the tickets for the most anticipated concert of the year.

"That's right, my dear friend! A girls' night out to see Paradox. You, me, Emily and Tara."

"No way, god. I'll talk to Will and rest assured I'll be ready for that night." J.J smiled hugging her friend's arm.

"What's Paradox...?" muttered Luke, causing Matt to turn to look at him. The poor Luke was trying to comprehend what his friends were talking about.

Was he too out of date on pop culture or were they speaking in some kind of secret code?

"Oh Luke, why did you ask that?" Matt shook his head, earning a glare from the blonde couple.

"What did you say, newbie, don't you know what Paradox is? Oh god, no way. I'll have to bring you up to date with a course on what today's music is right now, follow me." Penelope motioned to the boy, who turned to see Matt who was lifting his shoulders laughing.

"No Penelope, you're not going anywhere. We have a case, and it's urgent. There's no time, meeting room now."

The rest of the people turned to look at each other, abiding by their boss's orders as they saw her so anxious and serious about a case.

That didn't look good at all.

The adrenaline and euphoria of last night's show, plus the last two dates, had been enough of a stimulant for Y/N to fall asleep in bed once they arrived at the hotel. Her whole body was exhausted, and at that moment all she wanted was some chamomile tea and a thousand hours of sleep.

She loved her job, of course she did! But she was mentally and physically exhausted from giving almost 15 concerts without a break, from one state to another, with more cups of coffee and energizers in her body than times where her eyes closed to sleep.

And the only time she found peace and quiet was when her body was being moved from one location to another, so, at that moment, her body was resting in the comfortable seat of the SUV after being driven to an interview and returned to the hotel to rest.

She felt her limbs meld with the seat, feeling like she was in heaven itself where her muscles all over her body were relaxing after days.

Her peace didn't last long when she heard a soft call.

"Psss, Y/N."

The, now, blonde heard the call from Felix, also known as the band's drummer and her best friend.

"What? You ruin my beauty nap."

"What did one wall say to the other?"

Y/N could hang him right then and there.

More the tiredness in her body made her think, trying to devise the best answer to get him to leave her alone.

"What?"

"I'll meet you at the corner."

"I'm having the biggest self-control to not kill you because you just interrupted the only moment of peace I've had these past three months, asshole."

"You haven't been able to sleep?"

Y/N denied with her eyes closed, desperate to get back to her attempt at sleep.

"Not a single moment, I woke up three times last night and that was the best attempt at sleep I've ever had."

"Your pills aren't working?"

"They're placebos, they won't make my body calm down just like that and go back to my eight hour sleep cycle that I'd had for the last two years without touring." The young woman opened one eye, looking at her friend. "I just have to get used to it, I have to get back to the cycle of excitement I used to have when it was tour after tour."

"Maybe if we talk about that thing that bothers you-"

"No way."

Y/N knew what he meant, knew it was talking about a certain doctor who gave her goosebumps every time she thought about him and took her back to her college days.

Why was she still thinking about him? It had been almost 15 years since they last spoke.

Y/N looked at the date on her phone.

No, she was wrong.

It had been 15 years since they last spoke.

Today was 15 years since she had received the last letter from Spencer with her name written on it.

The last time she felt the smell of his perfume on the sheets and his ugly doctor's handwriting on a sheet of paper.

The last time she saw written "wherever you are, whatever you do or whoever you are with, you are always on my mind and in my heart, Y/N."

Last time she saw written "Love from Quantico, dr. Spencer Reid. I'm also known as your #1 fan, but only you know that."

Was that the reason she hadn't slept well that night? Yes.

Was that the reason she hadn't slept well for that last week? Yes.

Was that the reason why, every time she closed her eyes, she saw him smile? Yes.

Was she going to admit it? No.

Never.

"Y/N..."

"I don't want to talk about it, Felix. Don't insist."

"But, Y/N-"

"Let it go, Felix. Really, don't insist." Tyler's voice made Felix turn to look at him angrily.

Tyler and Shawn, the guitarist and bassist respectively, shook their heads and made an "X" symbol with their fingers, muttering at the same time "don't do it, don't be stupid."

"Enough kids, let it go. In two days we have a very important concert to give in Seattle, so I don't want any fights."

"You heard him, Felix." Y/N smiled opening her eyes, looking in the direction of Gerald, her manager.

Thank you, Y/N murmured in the man's direction.

Gerald just raised his shoulders, noticing how the van parked.

"Okay, down."

Tyler and Shawn were the first to get out, followed by Y/N and then Felix.

Felix hated to come off as meddling in Y/N's life, so whenever he meddled too much in the girl's life, he simply knew that seeking forgiveness from her was his best option.

"Sorry Y/N, I didn't mean to insist."

"It's okay, Felix. I know you meant no harm, but I don't want to talk about it."

"And when will you?"

"I don't know, I guess when I'm ready."

"It's been 15 years, Y/N."

"I know, but I'm still not read-"

"Miss Autumn?"

Y/N turned to see the receptionist, who was holding a package.

"A package has arrived for you."

"Thank you, do you know who brought it?"

"No miss, I'm sorry."

"No worries, thanks again."

Y/N received it, walking to the elevator along with Felix after seeing how the package had a sticker on it that said "express delivery."

"What did you order, compulsive shopper?" Gerald turned to look at her, causing Y/N to deny in confusion.

"Nothing that I know of, I promise."

"Maybe it's a collaboration, Tiffany's already started putting the ads with your face all over it." Shawn smiled, elbowing the arm of the store's new ambassador.

"A gift for you to occupy at the next gig." Gerald replied, nodding softly as he looked down at his phone.

The box was small and covered in the typical plastic they place around it. Compact enough to drop a set of jewelry on behalf of the brand, but it seemed odd that it came directly and without warning.

The group made their way to the small meeting room where they had set up everything they needed, ready to hear the itinerary Gerald had prepared for them about their upcoming events.

Y/N's fingers went to open the package once it was placed on the table, watching as the "Tiffany & Co." logo on its little sky blue box.

"Okay guys, tomorrow you have rehearsal from noon until three in the afternoon, then you'll have an interview on a radio station near the sta-"

A beautiful gold ring with a navy blue gem in the middle was the first thing that caught the young woman's eye, perfect for the occasion. But it was heavier than usual.

"Then you can go eat and rest, we'll still have dress rehearsal, so you can get ready-"

A shout coming from Y/N deafened the group of people, causing them all to look in her direction.

Her skin was as white as paper, her eyes fixed on the box she had just opened and her face with an expression of pure terror from an experimental horror movie.

All eyes went in the direction of the box, which Y/N felt like everything she had eaten that morning was going to spew out of her mouth right then and there.

"Shit."

The beautiful ring encircled something.

A human finger.

A human finger that stained the bottom of the box.

A human finger that was accompanied by a note.

"I hope you enjoy my gift, my sweet star. I made it just for you, good luck at the concert."

"This morning at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Washington, the lead singer of the band Paradox received a package. Inside was a human finger with a ring on it." Emily was passing around the photographs that had been sent by the Washington police, it showed just what she had just described above. "According to the receptionist it was dropped off by someone from a package store. The police questioned him and he said it had arrived with yesterday's load of packages."

"From where?" Luke asked.

"They don't know, they collect packages from all over the country so they don't know where it came from. They're looking for the tracking code of the branch they sent it from."

"How grotesque, who would send such a thing to an artist like her?" Tara looked at Emily, who sighed.

"But what do we have to do with this case?" Rossi looked at his tablet, zooming in on the picture of the ring.

"The DNA results came back to find out whose finger it is." A photograph of a stranger appeared on the TV screen. "He is Bruno Colombo, an Italian artist and the owner of that finger. We just got word that his lifeless body was found in his art studio."

"He's Autumn's ex-fiancé." Penelope commented, surprised at all that was going on. "In 2016, he and Autumn got engaged after dating for two years, but after a few months it was discovered that the engagement ended after Autumn discovered him and an art gallery owner having sex in his studio. According to him he did it because he wanted to make an exhibition that would portray Autumn's true feelings, and this way he could see her feeling of anger and sadness. There are still people who idolize him for that."

"What a jerk." Matt muttered.

"And how come no one noticed his absence?"

" According to this, he was isolating himself when he was setting up exhibits so it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to suddenly disappear."

Spencer felt his heart pounding, why would he get like this over a clear case of a stalker obsessing over a music star?

It's not like he even knew her.

"Apparently, this relates to a series of related cases over ten years that the only common element is this band, Paradox. No one has ever linked them before as none of the modes of operation are the same, the only factor that unites them is the viciousness with which they are carried out and the band, of course." Emily sighed, showing the various faces and deaths that surrounded them.

"Race or religion has nothing to do with it, it seems neither does gender." Spencer commented, quickly reading each of the bodies found. "But it looks like they all had an encounter with the band or one of the members. From 2008 when the first body was found until now."

"The director asked us to take on this case, the level of this band is insane and it seems to be going against the vocalist, Autumn. They are currently on a world tour after two years of no activity, plus not much is known about her in general." Emily turned to look at Penelope. "Garcia, you're joining us on this trip. You serve us better back in Washington than you do here at Quantico. Reid and Lewis will go meet the M.E., the rest of us will go to the station and then we'll all go to the Queen Elizabeth Hotel, we'll meet the band and their manager." The whole group was surprised, especially Penelope who held a surprised expression. "Wheels up in 30."

Y/N always thought that the whole thing about having human parts shipped to you in a box was part of fiction. At best, news fiction.

But what she had just experienced was surreal.

Her body was shaking with a cup of tea in her hands, feeling her hands stinging around the cup.

"Who the fuck would send something like that to Y/N? No one we know is capable of doing anything to her, they would fuck up their careers if they were exposed like that." Tyler turned, annoyed, in the direction of Y/N. "Who did this to you, are you hiding something from us?"

"No, Tyler. I'm not hiding anything, why would I hide the fact that someone sent me a fucking human part on my name to a hotel in the middle of our comeback tour? You're blaming me for something, huh? Tell me to my fucking face, Tyler."

Y/N stood up in exasperation, letting the hot water spill onto the floor.

"I don't know, you tell me, Y/N. If you got sent a finger."

"Go straight to hell, Tyler. Right straight up." Commented the girl raising her middle finger.

"Enough! Both of you." Gerald's loud voice interrupted them, separating the band's strong personalities. "Right now we can't fight. They just sent a fucking human finger to Y/N, we can't get mad about that, we should be worried."

"Finally someone with sense." Y/N sat back down, setting the cup aside.

"What are they seeing so much of us, why aren't they doing anything? They should be looking for the person responsible." Felix got up walking towards the officers, being stopped by Shawn.

"Hey, they're doing the best they can. If we go in there and raise our voices, we're going to hinder the investigation, don't be a dickhead."

"Damn it, this can't be happening." Y/N stood up, starting to walk over to her purse to pull out a cigarette and place it between her teeth.

"You can't smoke in here, Y/N." Gerald's warning went in one ear to the girl and out the other, flicking her lighter. "Y/N."

"What, look at the shit we're in, I just got sent a fucking human finger from who-knows-who and you're asking me to keep my cool!? I can't! There's a crazy person out there sending me that shit with 'nice words'." The girl threw the lighter at who-knows-where, finding herself on the verge of an anxiety attack. "Don't fuck around and leave me alone to have a smoke, Gerald."

The group fell back into the same silence that surrounded them four hours ago, letting the cigarette smoke flood their nostrils.

They were desperate, they needed to get to the root of this.

Y/N knew it. Right now she was the eye of the hurricane, who that box and message were addressed to; the same person who had sent her that, had taken it upon himself to send her flowers and letters with the same nickname, "my sweet star."

At first she thought it was nice, of course it's nice when you get your favorite flowers along with letters of good cheer and best wishes, but it's not nice when you get a gift like today's.

But her attitude would get her nowhere, she was annoyed and exasperated, but they didn't deserve that kind of treatment.

"I'm sorry, but this is too much for me, I can't handle this alone and my attitude isn't helping anything. " Y/N commented, taking her eyes off her cigarette and looking at the people closest to her. "We should be in this together."

"I'm sorry, kid. I got upset that I couldn't help you, that you didn't know who sent you that." Tyler sighed, giving the girl a rueful smile.

"Don't worry about it, Ty. I'm really sorry, everyone."

The girl took another puff on her cigarette, letting the minty flavor cool her lungs.

"The FBI is here."

The announcement made everyone look at each other, taking their last breaths and letting Y/N finish what she was doing, the only thing keeping her sane at that moment.

"I'll see you downstairs, okay?" Felix left a kiss on the young woman's forehead, taking his leave to get on the elevator.

Y/N found herself alone in the room, again feeling disgust rise in her throat. She couldn't get the image of that package out of her mind, how was someone capable of writing those sweet words and sending something as grotesque as that.

The girl's hands gently stroked her cheeks, waking up and she shook her head. She would make one last stop to the bathroom before heading downstairs, so she could go more consciously for who-knows-what things would make her talk.

The BAU met up with a group of people who, thanks to the way Penelope was getting excited, could be sure it was Paradox.

All along the way, Spencer had listened to Garcia's theories and who it could have been. He loved listening to her talk, but his head was somewhere else, somewhere else but there.

Something inside him sensed something, something he wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was his thoughts of the past that had been running through him since morning.

"Agent Prentiss, I'm Gerald Murphy, the manager of Paradox." The man shook hands with the woman, who was looking over his shoulder at three people. "These are the members of the band: Tyler, Shawn and Felix."

The three let out a wave into the air, giving them a smile of sorts.

Spencer knew they weren't entirely happy they were there, he read it in their body language.

"I understand there are four of you in the band, here I see three." Emily looked directly into Gerald's eyes.

"Yeah, Autumn, the vocalist, is upstairs finishing something. But she's coming down now, right?" Felix nodded, watching the FBI agents.

Felix crossed glances with Spencer, feeling that familiar air from somewhere.

Spencer felt that familiar air too, but maybe he thought his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Please, let's go somewhere more private. That way we can talk more quietly."

Gerald motioned to the three men, who plunged inside the room, followed by everyone else.

The BAU settled down in front of the four people seated on the couches.

"If you like, we can wait for Miss Autumn." Emily glanced at the group, all of whom nodded.

"It's for the best, she's the most affected." Felix looked in the direction of Tyler and Shawn, who simply nodded in unison.

"You've never received anything like this before?" Luke directed his question at the group of people, causing Tyler to let out a sarcastic laugh.

"You think that's a normal thing to receive, a human finger? Please, be realistic."

"Tyler, shut up." Shawn motioned, slapping the young man's knee.

"That's a stupid question of his, since when is getting shit like that going to be normal?"

"Tyler!" Shawn gave him a stern look, turning his gaze back to Luke. "I'm sorry, we're touchy about this that just happened."

"My question was out of line, it's my fault." Luke admitted, turning to look at the rest.

"When is Autumn getting here?" Felix's question seemed to work magic, smelling her best friend's signature scent.

A strong smell of cherries and menthol tobacco made Spencer shake his head.

It wasn't time to remember Y/N, it wasn't time to focus on something like that.

It felt like his head was playing a joke on him, as if she was suddenly here. But the smell didn't go away, in fact, it intensified to the point that Spencer could feel his head hurting.

"Sorry I'm late."

Spencer felt his entire body freeze, as if he were turning into an ice cube.

The voice he thought he would never hear again.

The voice that escaped so much in his dreams.

He could hear it there, like an echo in his head.

His head turned, catching the figure that had just entered with some haste.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Autu-"

"Y/N."

The girl looked up, meeting Spencer's hazel eyes.

No way, Y/N thought.

Her heart stopped, as did the time around her.

Standing in front of her was a much older and mature Spencer Reid, but with that same lotion that made her dizzy.

The woman's mouth opened slightly, feeling the air in her lungs catch and no words came out of her mouth.

Her lip quivered, her pulse altered.

"Spencer."

Oh fate, how cruel did you have to be?

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencerreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x famous!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #it's my first series #almeseries

1K notes · View notes

watermelonlovershigh · 9 months ago

Text

In Sickness and in Health {part. 9} (housemate!harry series)

The Next Morning {part. 8} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: sorry this part took so long. it took me forever to write. it's quite a longer part so i hope you enjoy reading. don't forget to leave your feedback and reblog. also i think something went wrong with my taglist so if you weren't sent this from me tagging you, idk what happened. xoxo

This story contains: vomit (stomach bug), sickness comfort, fluff, crying, mentions of neglectful ex partners, accidentally dropping "L" bomb at the end

{ housemate!harry - friends to lovers - boyfriend!harry - softrry - teacher!harry - au!harry }

word count- 3,750

Harry unfortunately catches a stomach virus the day after you made your relationship official and you have to pick him up from work and take care of him for the rest of day, which he greatly appreciates.

Harry woke up on Monday morning and started getting ready for work as usual. Despite feeling a slight cramp in his stomach, he chose to disregard it. Just before leaving the house, he returned to your bedroom where both of you had slept the previous night and gently kissed his girlfriend's forehead. You were still asleep, having the flexibility to work from home, so there was usually no need for you to wake up at the same time as Harry. On his way out the front door, he grabbed a banana from the kitchen before making his way to his car.

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

The stomach cramps that Harry felt while getting ready for work are still present, and as he starts teaching his first class of the day, he realizes that they're only getting worse. Initially, the sensation in his stomach was similar to cramps, but as time goes on, it becomes more of a swirling feeling that makes it difficult for him to focus on his task of teaching. Eventually, Harry opts to handing out worksheets for his students so he can sit down and attempt to alleviate the ache in his stomach.

Ultimately, the plan falls through because he reaches a point where he senses he's about to vomit all over his desk, in front of all his students, if he doesn't immediately go to the bathroom. Harry quietly gets up from his desk and leaves the classroom without any explanation. If he had more time, he would have requested his neighboring teacher to supervise his class while he steps out, but he's worried there's no time for that.

Upon reaching the hallway, Harry quickens his pace towards the nearby teachers' bathroom. Fortunately, they were conveniently located not too far from his own classroom. Without wasting a moment, he swiftly enters the one toilet bathroom, closes the door, and securely locks it behind him. Rushing towards the toilet, Harry manages to make it just in time. As he stands in front of the somewhat grimy white porcelain, he began to throw up the lasagna you'd cooked the night before and remnants of the banana he had forced himself to eat this morning.

When Harry completes the gross task, he straightens up, breathe labored, and retrieves some toilet paper to cleanse his nose and mouth. Subsequently, he flushes the toilet to prevent any further discomfort from the sight of his own puke. Now, he faces a dilemma. Is it possible that his sickness was a one-time occurrence, allowing him to continue teaching for the remainder of the day? Or, should he call and ask you to pick him up? He decides to pick the first option, unless he begins to feel sick again later on.

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

Despite his best efforts, Harry can only make it until lunchtime before he finally gives in and calls you to come pick him up. He's been sick twice more since the first incident, and there doesn't seem to be any improvement in his condition. On top of Harry's queasy stomach, he now has a pounding headache and doesn't want to take the chance of driving himself home and getting into an accident. It's really frustrating because just yesterday you both decided to make your relationship official, and now Harry is feeling terribly ill. This was definitely not how he had planned today going.

He wanted to come home and canoodle you all evening. Make you dinner and begin working on his promise of all the places he intends on fucking you in. But instead, he's presumably got some sort of stomach bug that hinders any of that from happening.

Alone in his classroom while his students are at lunch, he pulls out his cellphone and dials up your number.

"Hello." you pick up with an upbeat tone, unaware of how the conversation is about to go. By looking at the time on your laptop, you assume Harry's on his lunch break and has a moment to talk. He's called you on his lunch break in the past, but now it feels different. You're boyfriend and girlfriend. His calls feel more meaningful now.

Harry nervously requests through the phone, "M' sorry to bother you, but could you come pick me up? I think I've caught some sort of stomach bug. I've thrown up three times already and m' not feelin' any better. I've also got a headache now. M' not sure if I can drive myself home."

You've never heard Harry sound so, bleh, since your time of knowing him. All the happiness he usually carries in his voice is gone and it breaks your heart to hear. You immediately set your laptop down and stand from the couch to slip a pair of shoes on. "Yeah Harry, I'll come and get you. Whereabouts do I need to park?"

"Just at the front entrance. I'll walk up to your car." he mumbles, not wanting to talk too much with a queasy belly.

"Okay, I'll be there shortly. Hang tight." you finish the phone call off before hanging up and grabbing your keys to head out the door. If Harry feels as bad as he sounded over the phone, you'd hate for him to stay any longer then he has to. Poor thing must be miserable.

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

When you reach the school's entrance, you see Harry standing there with his teacher's satchel hanging over his shoulder and a hand casually resting on his stomach. After placing the car in park, Harry quickly opens the passenger door and climbs in. He's ridden in your car just a few times before, mainly when you go grocery shopping or when grabbing a meal together.

As soon as Harry shuts the car door, he tries to get settled in car seat as best as possible while feeling like total shit. "Thank you for comin' to get me. Don't think I would've made it if I had to drive myself home."

Before placing the car back into drive, you coo over to him softly, "It's no problem, really. I hate that you're so sick. You were fine all weekend. When did you begin feeling sick?"

"While I was gettin' ready for work this mornin', I noticed my belly crampin' but ignored it. Then durin' my first class of the day, the crampin' turned into nausea before I ended up bein' sick in the teacher's toilet."

With the car in drive now, you begin pulling out of the school's lot and make the journey back to Harry's (yours too technically) house. "Awe, well I'll take care of you. No worries. In sickness and in health."

Harry abruptly turns his head to face you, worsening the throbbing headache he had been enduring, and instantly regretting his impulsive action. "What?" he responds with a touch of confusion, though internally filled with excitement over the end of your statement. "In sickness and in health? We only started datin' yesterday, we're not married." He refrains from expressing his true desire for future marriage.

Smiling playfully at the road, you reply, "I understand that, but I believe when you truly care about someone, you should stick to that commitment regardless of marriage. And since I'm your girlfriend and you're now my boyfriend, it means I care about you deeply and will take care of you, no matter the circumstances." What you really wanted to say is when you love someone alot, but didn't want to throw the love bomb in this conversation, afraid of how he'd react.

Harry feels as though he might throw up again and not from his stomach bug this time, but rather due to the pure admiration he feels towards you. Your endless compassion and selflessness towards him has the ability to make his heart feel as though it could burst at any given moment. He reciprocates these feelings wholeheartedly, even from the early stages of your relationship when you were just housemates and acquaintances. During that time, he took care of you when you were sick due to your period cramps, showcasing his genuine concern for your well-being during a time where you were most vularable.

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

After a ten-minute drive, you finally arrive home, and Harry silently expresses his gratitude towards the heavens above for helping him keep his stomach under control. He really didn't want to accidentally be sick in your car or have you pull over suddenly so he could spew on the side of the road. He's determined not to disgust his new girlfriend too much on your first full day together, although he's confident that you would have handled the situation with grace.

Getting out of the car, you instruct, "Go lie in bed and I'll bring you some medicine and plain crackers, alright. I'm gonna take care of you."

"Noo....." Harry whines as he drags his feet along the pavement to the front door, "don't wanna eat anythin'."

"But Harry, you need something on your tummy."

Huffing, he argues, "M' just gonna throw it back up and I don't wanna be sick again. I hate throwin' up."

You unlock the front door and step inside the living room, slipping off your shoes and placing your keys down. "I know baby but the medicine on an empty stomach may make you feel worse. Just a few nibbles is all I'm asking. And if you get sick afterwards, that's okay. At least I know you tried for me." Hey, you used the term 'baby' in a non sexual setting and it felt good. It felt right.

Harry makes his way to his bedroom and strips his work attire off before settling into the disheveled bed without a care in the world. Exhausted from the virus, he quickly falls asleep after laying his head on the pillow. His cat Pixie cuddled into his side. However, his slumber is short-lived as he's gently awakened, being asked to sit up and take the tablets that will hopefully help his sick tummy and headache. Along with the crackers you promised minutes prior.

He sits up and takes the pills with a glass of water but hesitates on the crackers. "Don't wanna." Harry whines again.

A smile escapes you as you observe his deeply furrowed brow. If you didn't know any better, you would assume Harry was a child, considering his current demeanor. Nevertheless, you don't hold it against him because you can be just as whiny when you're under the weather. Additionally, you empathize with the fear of being forced to eat something while suffering from an upset stomach. The fear of being sick again. "I understand Harry, but just try taking a small bite. That's all I'm asking for. Then I'll let you rest"

Reluctantly, Harry brings the cracker up to his mouth and takes a small bite, chewing it slowly before pushing the rest of the cracker aside. You take it from him and place it on his nightstand, in case he wants some later. Then you place his glass of water beside his bed, ready for when he becomes thirsty again. "Thank you. Now, rest. I'll be in the living room, finishing up the work I was doing before I came to get you. If you need me, call for me, okay. I'll hear you."

Laying down with the covers up to his chin, Harry mummers a quiet, "Okay." and you lean down to place a gentle kiss on his warm forehead.

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

Harry gets about an hour of rest before he awakens to his tummy swirling again. He lays there, trying to breath his nausea away, but to his luck, he only feels more and more sick as the minutes pass. So he finally makes the decision to get up and go to the bathroom. From your spot on the sofa, you hear footsteps on the creaky wood floor and then see Harry emerge from his bedroom and go inside the bathroom in the hallway.

You wait a few seconds, thinking he may have just needed to use the toilet, when you're suddenly startled by the sounds of dry heaving. Concerned, you decide to go check on your boyfriend. Approaching the bathroom door, you cringe at the sounds of Harry being sick. You have always found it difficult to be around someone who is vomiting or hearing those sounds, but you're determined to be there for Harry. With a deep breath, you turn the doorknob and cautiously enter the bathroom.

The scene in front of you is truly heartbreaking. Although you haven't known Harry for very long, less than a year in fact, during the time you've spent with him, you've never seen him in such a weak and vulnerable state. You long for the return of your cheerful and smiling boyfriend, not the sickly one with clammy skin, likely from a cold sweat. "Oh, Harry," you murmur softly as you approach the cabinet to retrieve a cloth to soothe his sweaty skin.

Taking a deep breath over the toilet bowl, he replies, "M' alright, m' alright."

Now with the cool, damp cloth in your hand, you kneel down on the hard floor and gently blot the rag on his pale skin. Being thoughtful, Harry reaches up to flush the toilet so you don't get exposed to the disgusting sight of his puke. "Do you feel better now?"

Harry shakes his head no before speaking with a raspy voice, due to him having gotten sick several times today, "Not really. Still feel sick to m' stomach. You can leave if you want. You don't have to be in here and watch me get sick. M' sure the sight is very unpleasant."

"Harry, I'm not leaving you, okay. I'm gonna be in here and take care of you. You took care of me a while back when I was throwing up from my period cramps. Told me not to be embarrassed because we all get sick from time to time. So now we're even."

Harry, too sick to reply, fixates his gaze on the toilet as you gently glide the wet cloth across his skin. Despite his desire to express how good that cloth feels, the rising bile in his throat hinders him. He straightens his posture, positioning his head over the toilet. Once his mouth begins to water, he realizes his impending fate. A loud retching sound escapes his throat, followed by the expulsion of whatever little remains in his stomach. In order to shield yourself from the sight of him vomiting, you instinctively turn away, fearing the potential of falling ill yourself.

Thankfully, Harry's hair is held back by one of the small black clips you'd left on the bathroom counter, so that's one less thing he has to worry about. After throwing up this time, you can hear him making further attempts to bring up more, but unfortunately, he's unsuccessful. Probably because he's already been sick multiple times today and his stomach is now completely empty of food.

After finally calming down, he agrees when you suggest, "Why don't we get you back in bed and I'll bring you more medicine? Sitting in front of the toilet seems to be making you feel worse." You assist Harry in standing up and hold his hand as you guide him towards his bedroom. Although he would have liked to brush his teeth, he's sadly too exhausted to even lift the toothbrush to his mouth

He gets settled back in bed and you hurry and grab the medicine to help soothe his nausea. Within minutes, you're back at his side, handing him the pills and his glass of water. He swallows the medicine slowly and begins to relax. As you're about to leave, Harry stops you. "Y/n...... could you, um, can you come cuddle me, please. Know you were workin' but um, I'd really like a cuddle." How can you say no to that.

Turning around, you smile gently and say, "Of course. Let me go switch my laptop off. I'll be right back." You go back to the living room and close your laptop, then return to Harry's bedroom. You climb into bed beside him, being careful not to disturb Pixie who has moved to the foot of her dad's bed, and scoot over to cuddle with your boyfriend of a day.

Harry shifts his position, resting his head on your chest, and starts apologizing. "M' sorry. This is not the way I envisioned today goin'. After the incredible day we had yesterday and us becomin' official, I had hoped for today to go the same. Planned to fulfill my promise of fuckin' you in at least one of the places I promised I would." Despite the fact that his words would have sounded amusing under different circumstances, his illness causes him to speak in a casual tone, unintentionally adding a touch of humor.

Running your fingers through his sweaty hair, you mutter, "Harry, don't apologize for being sick. You can't control if you get sick or not. And don't worry about that. Once you're sickness leaves, we'll have plenty of time to work on those promises, alright. Now get some rest and later I'll make you some soup. Wake me up if you feel sick again."

More than anything, Harry wants to reply with an agreement followed by the three words, 'I love you', but can't. Not yet. Not until he knows you're ready to hear that. So instead, he nods his head slightly against your chest and shuts his eyes, praying the medicine you gave him works and he doesn't get sick anymore today.

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

At seven that night, you awoke from your slumber. Sitting up in bed, you stretched and observed your boyfriend still in a deep sleep. He seemed less pale, indicating a positive change, although he remained slightly sweaty. Quietly, you got out of bed and made your way to the kitchen to start working on the soup you had promised Harry earlier, hoping he would have an appetite by now.

Upon completing the homemade chicken noodle soup, you carefully carried a bowl to Harry's room and helped him sit up to have his meal. You fed him, aware that his hands might be a bit shaky, and he is in complete awe of the kindness you have shown him today. He ponders, had you not made your relationship official yesterday, would you still be just as caring towards him. Of course, you would.

By this point in the day, his stomach had thankfully settled and he had even developed a slight craving for your scrumptious soup. After he had finished eating, you aided Harry in taking a bath. You prepared a warm bath and added bubbles to create an extra soothing atmosphere. Initially, your plan was to kneel on the bathmat beside the tub and assist him from there, but he insisted that you join him. Without hesitation, you joined him in the bath.

This signifies the first time you and Harry are sharing a bath, without any sexual implications. Inside the tub, you allowed Harry to lean back onto your body, gently caressing his tummy beneath the water. He expresses his satisfaction with a pleasurable moan and nearly dozes off against you. As the water temperature decreases, you begin to thoroughly wash his hair and body.

Breaking the quietness of the room, Harry whispers, "Thank you so much, Y/n. Like really, thank you. What you've done for me today means so much to me. More than you even understand." You stop the sponge along his skin when you realize he's actually getting emotional.

"Baby," you coo softly from behind him, "you don't have to thank me. I want to care for you. Did all your previous partners not want to care for you when you were sick?"

With tears welling up in his eyes, he proceeds to explain, "To be honest, not really. There was this one incident during my college years when I had caught a terrible cold. My girlfriend at the time expressed her reluctance to getting sick, so she never bothered to visit me in my dorm even once. Also didn't bother to call and check up on me. Then, about four years ago, I went on a date with my boyfriend at the time, Mark, to a restaurant. Unfortunately, I ended up with food poisoning and instead of offering any assistance, he simply drove me home and told me he would see me once I recovered. Hence, I don't expect a partner to do what you have done for me. It feels so nice to have someone take care of you when you're unwell that's not your own mother"

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

After the bath where you had some deep and vulnerable conversations, you assisted Harry out of the tub. After drying both yourself and him off with a towel, you helped him change into a fresh pair of briefs. You then directed him to lay down in your bed, as his sheets needed to be replaced due to them being soiled with sweat and germs from his stomach bug.

Turning off all the lights, you proceeded to your room, where Harry was lying down with Pixie nestled on his chest, enjoying the gentle strokes he gave her behind her ear as she purred contentedly. The bond he shares with his cat is truly adorable. He loves that cat more than anything, even you. Though you guess that's understandable since he's had that cat way longer than he's even known you for.

You take hold of the tv remote and select a movie on Netflix to watch until both of you nearly drift off to sleep once more. Harry is optimistic and hopeful that he will feel better tomorrow. He doesn't think he'll be able to return to work just yet, but is relieved that the nausea has subsided. Thankfully, the soup you prepared has stayed down, indicating a positive sign.

As your eyes grow heavy with fatigue, threatening to succumb to sleep, you feel Harry nestling himself closer to your side, followed by a hushed declaration of "Love you." In spite of your stillness, your eyes widen in surprise. Shifting your head slightly, you observe that Harry has already slipped into sleep, seemingly oblivious to his inadvertent admission.

Regardless of his true intentions, you are certain that this wasn't how he intended to convey his love for you. Now, you must find a way to approach this subject with him, hoping he doesn't get embarrassed or worse, deny the authenticity of his words.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet // @meetmyblondemuffins // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles // @skyangel57 // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss // @kissmyaxe140 // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom // @swiftmendeshoran

// @luv-flor7777 // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone // @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry // @shadowygladiatorlight // @manifestrry //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

"Do you love me?" {part. 10}

156 notes · View notes

moon-ayyye · 2 months ago

Note

I saw a few asks that revolved around all caste Jason or just the all blades and I just wanted to share a very self indulgent hcs and would like to hear your thoughts on them:

1.) Jason having the white hair streak but there is no definite origin for them but rather a clusterfuck of reasons. A form of Marie-Antoinette syndrome perhaps, perhaps perhaps the all caste and such. Nobody really knows. I mention this because I thing is would be very cool if like. When Jason takes out the all blades in fire situations, his mostly black hair suddenly becomes a shock of all white hair (I’m debating if he should have a streak of black hair, like a reversal of his color palette perhaps). It’s kind of like an Acheron from Honkai Star Rail situation. Jason assumes it has something to do with the all caste but it doesn’t explain him having it before he joined them. It’s a mystery to them

2.) I actually saw this from somewhere and I really enjoyed it so I incorporated elements of it into my own world building but the all blades affect how he perceives the wold and he has tricky feelings in regards to it. Something something about the all blades being able to detect too things: the weight of someone’s evil + their ability to repent. Jason only sees the full picture when he’s got the blades out, which is rarely. However he can sense things about someone and figures it worth investigating depending on how intense the pull is for justice. The flipside is that the all blades doesn’t care about human sentiments and will see the evil in anything. Even in children and animals and it does not fully coincide with Jason’s own morals. It simply connects to his righteous justice and his capability to bring about that change—not his empathy. It makes his feelings about it all fucky whucky

3.) Jason’s body is already fucky whucky after coming back to life because of resurrection, non all caste related. Some of these examples in my mind is: *much* slower heart rate, inhuman levels of strength (not enough to be a super meta, but something about being undead removing him from a few restraints that exist when you’re alive. But also the cosmic nature of him coming back means he’s not getting all the undead enchancements. For example he can use strength that surpasses any human capability by a certain range depending on how desperate he is, but it’s tied to adrenaline. He also can destroy all his limbs if he uses too much force cause he’s still Ina. Human body. So he uses it very sparingly). Anyways long story short. When he has the all blades out, because the blades are his soul and his soul is no longer in his body, he is capable of being much more stronger, faster, and sharper because his body and soul are not limited to anything. His consciousness is his soul and his body is the vehicle of justice. That being said this can only happen for very short amounts of time because the longer his soul is out of his body the harder it is to stay tethered and he will probably die. Or be stuck in limbo and that is not fun

Sorry for word vomiting all over your inbox I hope that this finds you well

No need to apologise. These are really good!. I'll address my takes on each one:

1) I headcanon that the white streak is actually the mark of the All Caste, and it disappears when he draws them out. The opposite of what you said. If I'm reading a crossover fic with danny Phantom, then yeah, having full white hair with a black streak is an amazing design in my eyes. If you want, it could also be like a kiss of death; lady death feels strongly connected to Jason and so marked him as one of hers. That way, it also works as being independent from the All Caste while explaining away how he keeps coming back. To me, Superboy Prime's punch didn't directly bring him back, but it created enough leway for Death to be able to revive him.

2) I actually really like this headcanon. Being completely free of evil is impossible due to human nature, so it's always more of a spectrum than a binary system. It would be triggered heavily around people like the flashes due to the deaths they caused by fucking with the timestream (ie flashpoint), or members of the JLD, specifically Jason Blood, Constantine, and Raven. You could have him battle that instead of pit madness. Also a bonus, if you like JJ!Tim and the fanonised version of the attack on TT, you can have it so Jason attacks Tim because he's the next potential candidate for the joker, so that's what triggers Jason into beating him. Him being JJ in other universes sort of stains his aura so to speak.

3) Jason has canonically punched a hole in the hull of a submarine that's under water. This definitely has merit. In my mind, since Jason pulls out his soul, Cass and Shiva can't read him because his body isn't thinking. It's acting. It's kind of like Richard Dragon's ability. It being a short burst makes sense, but I also like it when Jason just becomes less and less human over time. He starts looking like Essence; pure white pale skin, black eyes, and whispy white hair. It starts as a short burst, but over time, he can maintain that form for longer until, eventually, decades later, he's just always like that. Also the slower heart rate is such an interesting idea. Sometimes he forgets to breathe, or goes weeks without eating, and he doesn't realise it because his body is, as you aptly described it, fucky whucky.

If you have any more headcanons please send them my way, these were really fucking good.

#jason todd #the all caste #all caste jason todd #all blades #essence dc #anon ask #ty for the ask

54 notes · View notes

itriedwritingandhereiam · 15 days ago

Text

Take out your earbuds- I swear- Am_I_really_a_writerhuh

daminette pt 2, roughly 7k

That was stupid. The absolute worst ! She would never be able to look him in the eyes again. She was going to have to spirit him (was that the term? Spirit…ghoul…ghost?) and pretend she didn’t know him to live off the embarrassment.

It happened over six hours ago and she was dwelling on it.

This wasn’t the first nonsensical excuse her brain word vomited in the spur of the moment onto a poor recipient. No, her brain to mouth filter was dysfunctional seven days a week, twelve months a year.

But usually it only happened around close friends and family who were used to it! Who could laugh it off or in a rare case, make sense of what she was saying.

She’d seen the gothamites' faces when she booked it out of the cafeteria. Utter bemusement.

“He probably thinks I’m weird now,” she whined into her pillow. Tikki pat Marinette’s head with her tiny hand (paw?)

“Aw Marinette, I doubt Damian thinks you’re weird,” she cooed, then quickly added, “or any weirder than he already thought you were,” to which the girl groaned, “He might be a little confused but it will be fine as long as you give an explanation…that…makes…sense,”

“But then I have to talk to him!” she threw her hands in the air. The kwami sighed and shook her head.

“Marinette, we did not move halfway across the globe for you to be afraid of talking to a boy you like again!”

With wide eyes, the ravenette looked at the little being surprised by her statement.

“Who said I liked him? I never said that! I don't like like him!” she protested, although her blush betrayed her, “He’s just a friend,”

Ew. her mouth felt weird forming those words.

“And where have we heard that before,” Tikki asked, tapping her hand (paw?) on her cheek, watching her holder turn away.

”I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette insisted.

“Then you would be able to look me in the eye and tell me that,” the tiny goddess raised an eyebrow.

Still, her human did not turn to face her.

“Hmph,”

“ Oh Adrien, I love you so much, together we’ll have a little house and three kids and a hamster~” Tikki raised her voice a pitch higher and move closer to Marinette’s ear, feigning a love sick swoon, then she made a shoving motion, changing her expression and deepening her voice, “ I’m sorry Marinette. To me. You are just a friend, I hope you can forgive me-”

After her short performance, she stared at the pouty parisian who’d now folded her arms.

“Does that not sound familiar to you, Marinette? Not even a little?”

“Not in the slightest,” she crossed her arms.

“Careful, you’re starting to sound as prim and proper as your favourite English tutor,” the kwami snarked.

A loud and exasperated gasp filled the room.

“Take that back !”

The kwami blew raspberries and flew away, escaping the conversation and off to steal some cookies from the kitchen, forcing Marinette to be left alone with her thoughts.

In all honesty, Tikki wasn’t wrong in the slightest. In fact, she’d hit the nail on the head.

About Damian, not her tutor, Fèlix.

Marinette had moved to America under a scholarship in need of a break from Paris and all the drama attached to the city. She’d escaped the constant akuma news updates (despite still having to teleport back to fight them), the snake(s) at her previous school and most of all, distanced herself from her long-time crush-turned-awkward-best-friend.

All three of which had been at least eighty percent of her stress.

It had been a small struggle to adjust to the constant use of English but with the help of her drill sergeant, Fèlix, it was a smooth adjustment. The only thing she had yet to master was the use of slang. Due to the fact that Fèlix spoke like a Victorian English aristocrat, he spoke ‘proper’ English through and through.

“If you want to speak slang, I’ll gladly acquaint you with the delinquents at the bottom rank of my class. Save us both the trouble of this bloody session” he’d offered.

She’d take her chances speaking like her birthdate fell some centuries ago.

Classes at school were fine, she had minor issues adjusting to notetaking and lectures but otherwise it was problem-free. Her classmates had been strangely enthusiastic towards her.

At least they didn’t not like her.

~some weeks earlier~

Meeting the boy in question had been a fucking heart attack in the making. Damian, not the blond brat.

She was some days into her first week at Gotham Academy and was doing just peachy. It was sixth period and she was walking out of literature eager for the awaiting pastries in her bag.

She’d sat down at the first empty table she saw, it was in a nice corner of the cafeteria.

She liked the cafeteria, the food wasn’t as bad as she’d been led to believe and the people weren’t as rowdy as the movies she’d watched depicted them to be. Sure there were a few odd outbursts but it could have been worse.

Fishing out her headphones from her satchel, she quickly turned on the inspiration for her current project and got to work on her latest Jagged Stone album cover commission.

This is what Jagged called payment for her staying in his Gotham residence. (nevermind that he’d insisted and she didn’t really have a choice after her parents sided with him)

Out of the corner of her eye, she’d seen a figure approaching and seating themself opposite her. She was going to say hello, but before she could even look up, she felt his gaze burning a hole in her forehead.

An all too familiar feeling.

The person had just sat there and stared . Being her , she panicked when he tried to gain her attention. He tapped his fingers as though waiting and a thousand thoughts scrambled through her brain as she continued ignoring them and sketching.

It took all her willpower to not look up or give any acknowledgement.

The most prominent worry being, what if she pissed off a fucking bully or some rich kid. It wouldn’t be the first time and it most certainly would be very on brand for her.

And it would certainly lead to a repeat of her ‘Be tormented by a Bourgeois era’ again.

As casually and nonchalantly as possible, she moved her hand to pick up a macaron from the brown bag some distance from her sketchpad and nibbled it, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling emanating from her current seatmate.

If she ignored the problem, maybe it would go away.

Aha.

Ha.

As if.

He clears his throat, clearly still trying to get her attention and Marinette feels like she’s going to have indigestion. A few moments later and she hears them let out a long sigh.

Seeing as he didn’t actively kick her off, she continued ignoring them and waited for them to leave first when the bell rang.

Only in her History period later that day, did the girl sitting next to her, erm, Mary? Yes, Mary, chose to lean over and whisper in the most conspicuous manner that the person was in fact Damian Wayne.

As to who the hell Damian Wayne was? Mary also kindly supplied that his last name was slapped over half the buildings in Gotham and first name was rather infamous despite his current quiet and self-kept demeanour.

In other words, her Dupain-Cheng luck struck again and she was definitely screwed.

Two days later and Marinette is so freaking fed up .

There are two main contributors to her current mood, one of which is the kids in her year group constantly buzzing around her like a case of paparazzi and the other is the hectic adjustment of time zone to timezone whenever she had to travel back to Paris for an akuma.

The akuma thing alone was a whole can of worms she didn’t want to open.

Hey, at least she could cry in peace in Gotham.

She was foreign. She got that. She wasn’t native English, she got that. She was from a city being terrorised by butterflies, she knew that all too well. Why the hell did one in every four people she was forced to be around want to hear her life story?

It was a constant bounce from “Can you say this very mundane phrase in French for me?” to “Oooh you’re from Paris? Is it true you guys are possessed on a daily basis? I’m sure it can’t compare to our rogue attacks though,”

As if a fucking deranged murder clown could beat having your nightmares become tangible.

She came to America to get a break from hearing about Hawkmoth, and yet she was hearing even more about the megalomaniac than ever before.

Why the hell did she have to endure this? For the sake of niceties, she answered all the questions dawning her best customer service smile. All that time behind the cash register back at home was definitely coming in handy here.

Marinette liked people, generally. She wasn’t built to be a loner but the Gotham Academy crowd sure wasn’t making itself appealing. She’d had the odd interaction with a decent person who didn't want to know what her dad did and how many zeros followed her family’s bank accounts but she hadn’t spent enough time around said people to call them friends.

Yet.

She would work on it though. Right now she just needed to rest.

She decided that yet again, she needed a break from people in general. She had options. She could hide in the library, but then she couldn’t eat. She could find an empty classroom, but then she’d have to risk getting kicked out .

Despite full knowledge of whose table it was and what she’d done, for some unknown reason, she sat back down at the table. Maybe being around the ice prince (so he’d been monikered by the other students) would limit people's need to constantly talk to the new kid. Considering she hadn't been kicked out the first time, maybe if she left him alone again he’d do the same.

It worked.

The bell had rung and she was shoving her physics book into her bag aggressively. How she loathed the subject. It was so much work !

The most she could confidently say about physics was that the stunts she pulled back at home definitely didn’t obey any of the laws in that god-forsaken textbook.

Just looking at the board at the front of the classroom left a bad taste in her mouth.

Usually she’d be able to go home and lament her woes to Adrien and he’d gladly reteach it to her in a way that the concepts made some semblance of sense but she had no one in Gotham she could go to.

She’d have to wait till later that evening to call her favourite blond and attempt a tutoring session over the phone.

With the little pastel pink bag she kept her books slung over her shoulders, she dragged her feet out of the classroom. Her eyes were glued to the ground when she’s stopped abruptly by a hand stuck out in front of her.

With a frown she looks up to see one of the kids in her class…Michael? Yes, Michael was staring intently at the corridor.

Following his gaze she watched as everyone in the hall subtly shifted away from the centre of the corridor, their stares all following the same figure, even as they continued their conversation as normal.

The boy who’d stopped her leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Babes, you have to watch where you’re going. If you bump into one little shit in these halls you’re gonna get a call telling you yer bein’ sued for harassment. See how everyone’s shifting? It’s ‘cause a Wayne is passing through and this generation’s asshole won’t hesitate to break your arm.” he back peels a bit, “Actually, he’s been pretty chill this year but I still wouldn’t tempt him. He’s a take no shit, do much harm type.

One scholarship student to another? Don’t piss off the rich people, especially the assholes. Those are the ones who aren’t afraid to sic mommy and daddy’s wallet on ya,”

“Uhm, okay then,” she nodded, not particularly registering his words with her eyes trained on the subject.

She watched as the ‘Wayne’ walked through the hall, he too had his gaze dropped to the floor and two spiral bound notebooks in hand.

He was tall . That was the first thing she noticed. Maybe it was whatever the hell they ate, but Americans in general had a tendency to tower over her like Adrien did. Maybe here he would be considered average height over here. His black hair was probably styled with more gel than Kim ever used to use, which was… a lot.

When the boy’s gaze flicked upward, Marinette melted.

He had green eyes. They weren’t wild and electric like Chat’s, nor were they soft and soulful like Marc’s. His pupils were this beautiful deep shade of emerald.

Marinette was a sucker for green eyes.

She did not fall for him from one look.

She would not .

Not. at. all.

She was allowed to admire a pretty person’s prettiness.

“That wouldn’t by chance be Damian Wayne would it?” she whispered back to Michael.

“That it would be,”

Two weeks later and she finally gained the courage to actually acknowledge him with a simple nudging of her pastry box forward. She snuck a glance to see him smiling. She resisted reacting and the heat in her cheeks and continued sketching like she’d seen nothing.

He started bringing food for her too.

He talked to her! She talked to him . He was so cute when he nibbled on the treats she’d brought and she’d have to fight off the blush on the days he’d pulled up to their table (yes it was their table now, not just his) and just sit, watching her while she designed.

The way he’d just prop himself on one arm and his gorgeous green pupils would follow the movement of her pencil and the little twitch of his lips she was assuming was some form of a smile…

Kwami, she was smitten.

Oh God, she could not afford to go through that phase again.

Marientte did not fall asleep till after three that night.

The next day, she’d been in and out of consciousness through her classes right up until lunch. What actually happened during geography and physics? Who knew? Not her.

A particularly early morning (or late night?) akuma had taken her out. It took hours to take care of and by the time she made it back in bed her alarm sounded.

If looks could kill, that one girl who shook her awake for a pencil last period would be six feet under.

She’d taken her spot at their table, rested her bags on the ground and used her arms as pillows. Her heavy eyelids dropped instantly and her brain praised her for the much needed rest. Her muscles immediately relaxed and just like that, sleep was quick to take her away from the noisy cafeteria.

…

“ÆÆÆÆÆÆAUGH!” some imbécil screeched from across the room.

Marinette woke up with a start. Being ripped from her dream and flung into consciousness, she felt the whiplash of getting up too quickly. She rubbed her eyes, and mouth where she’d been drooling and blinked slowly as her eyes adjusted to the harsh lighting. As her vision clears, she realises there’s a boy sitting opposite to her.

It’s Damian.

And he’s…drawing?

Play it cool Marinette.

“What are you drawing?” she asks, words partially slurred in her grogginess.

Eh, cool enough.

He looked up from the book and his eyes widened. His ears reddened too, or maybe she was imagining it.

“ I didn't know you woke up,” he says, “Uhm, it’s just a rough sketch, I- I’m practising drawing from observation,”

“Oh, would you mind showing me?” She was curious to see his art.

He bites inside his cheek and slowly lifts the book. As he turns it to face her, he too turns, although in the opposite direction almost as though abashed.

It’s her on the page.

Specifically, her comfortably resting on her own arm asleep on the table. Thankfully, he’d excluded the trail of drool that’s been running down her cheek. The ravenette felt her cheeks grow hotter by the second.

“I-is that- That’s me,” she states the obvious, quickly wiping the wetness off of her cheek.

“Yes, yes it is. You are in front of me and I am practising drawing from observation, that is all,” as he speaks, his tone vaguely reminds her of when she, in her delusion phase, tried to convince herself some of her plots were not entirely revolving around getting Adrien’s attention.

“Uh huh,” she replies, still trying to fight off the blush, “Do-do you sketch a lot?”

He clears his throat.

“Yes, although I do not have any of my other works on hand to display at the moment,”

“How about tomorrow? Could you bring some tomorrow to show me? Or just pictures, that’s fine too,”

“I- I can do that. Yes, that is easily doable,” he nods to himself.

“ Adam, the son of a bitch sketched her portrait,”

“He what ?!”

“Look over there! And he’s blushing like a fucking tomatoe too!”

“What kind of historical fiction shit is this? It’s not the sixteen hundreds. Oh fair lady, thy beauty has pierced my heart and the only outlet for this longing you have stricken me with is that of the canvas- OW”

“Shut up, it’s romantic”

“Yeah shut up Adam, like you would know anything,”

“You too Britney?”

“So, tell me about your new man,” The blond grinned slyly as he lay down in bed, face mask on and fuzzy headband in place.

Marinette scowled at him.

“You are disgusting,” she remarks, adjusting her matching face care set.

“You’ve been talking about him a lot recently. I worry that you haven’t made any other friends yet because of how his eyes have you in a chokehold. Tell me, is he as sexy as me? I bet he is, you have taste,”

“I will not be dignifying that with an answer,” she frowned, “ And I do have friends! There’s…Michael from physics…and uh…Louie…in…art. Sacha…?”

“Mmm, you don’t sound very sure about that,”

“Shut up,”

“ At least give me a name bug, I wanna know who I have to give the shovel talk to,”

“You will not ,” she warned.

“I will,” he corrected, “Anyways, what did you bake for him today?”

“Coconut macarons,” she begrudgingly answered.

He snickered.

“ You have pets! OH mon dieu, il est tellement adorable! J’ai envie de le caresser! Il est tellement mignon!”

“Ah yes, this one is Titus, I have had him since he was a puppy,”

Currently, it is the next day. And with this new day, came some progress. It’s lunchtime and Damian had, apparently, taken a picture of every sketch in three of his filled drawing pads. Majority of which starred his menagerie of animal familiars.

Marinette was absolutely loving it.

Damian, however, was in a very awkward position. From the moment his sketchbook saw the light of the cafeteria, Marinette had jumped from her seat and crouched over his shoulder where he sat.

Her breath was hot against his neck and loose strands of hair tickled his ear. He barely kept the heat in his cheeks and the tips of his ears at bay. Everytime he flipped a page, the sound of sincere praise hummed in his ear and his chest felt tight. He’d already shown her some simple sketches of Titus, Alfred the Cat and Jerry.

“I’ve always wanted a pet,” she sighed.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Do your parents not allow you to keep one? Or are you allergic? Either is rather unfortunate,”

“Neither,” she smiled lopsidedly, “I lived in a bakery so it’s against health regulations,”

“Oh,” yeah she wouldn’t know how to respond to that either.

“Yeah, I’ve had some strays stop by now and then on my balcony but can’t keep any. There was one mangy cat that kept coming back, I loved him so much but he’s still back in Paris and I’m here,” a sigh escaped her lips.

She thought fondly back to the nights where Chat would knock on her window and she’d hit him with a broom because burglars are a real thing.

“If…If you would like, you could come see Alfred the Cat? He’s rather apprehensive of people but… perhaps you’d be the exception,”

Did he just invite her over? Was she reading too much into this?

“Do you mean it? Can I really?”She held an excited grin.

“I-, yes, o-of course. I wouldn’t lie ,” he croaked. She stared at him and he stared at her. She jumped back suddenly, realising how close she was to his face, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to get so close!”

“It’s fine,” he managed, “What day would you like to come over?”

“Euh, when is fine?”

“Today?”

Today? That’s so soon! She wouldn’t have time to pick an outfit!

“Yeah that’s great!” Fuck.

He’d told her to wait outside the school entrance after dismissal, so here she was.

Turns out, she did not need to worry about what to wear because she’d be going in her school uniform. Marinette discreetly looked down at her purse to see a red kwami with thumbs (?) up and mouthing “you got this”

She most certainly did not.

Within moments, a black and heavily tinted limo pulls up in front of her and the back window rolls down slowly to reveal Damian.

“You drive in a limo?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Yes? You do know I’m a Wayne right? Shall we?”

He opened the door and scooted across the seat to make room.

Right, rich people.

Marinette felt minute staring up at the raised ceiling of the manor. Even the banquet hall of Le Grand Paris paled in comparison to the grandeur of this monument. The intricate detailing of the wall panels alone had her itching for her sketchbook.

A quick glance around the entrance and it was no secret that the caretakers took pride in their work. The place was almost pristine in appearance save for the minor details like a newspaper on the stand, a coffee mug here and a batarang there.

Huh?

“I heard gothamites stole batarangs off of crime scenes. I didn’t know it was true,” she remarked, staring pointedly at the weapon laying harp hazardously on the floor.

Alfred hummed and Damian tensed.

“Who wouldn’t want a keepsake from Gotham’s protector?”

“So do you put them on display? Or are they a bit more functional, like letter openers,” she hummed in thought, how well would they cut fabric? Or how easily could she handle them as self defense tools? She had one or two at home from second hand sources.

“Both,” he replies then clearing his throat, “Perhaps we can save a tour for another time, after all, you are here for a purpose, no?”

“Of course, who are we visiting first?”

“Jerry the turkey,”

They love her. Jerry, Batcow and Alfred (the cat) alike. The last of which earns a small praise from Damian.

“He’s usually more apprehensive of strangers,” he claims watching as she showered the feline with affection, “You must be special,”

Marinette has to fight off the blush for that last part.

Sure he was just talking about Alfred’s introduction to her but hearing him call her special just had butterflies blooming in her stomach and heat colouring her cheeks.

“Pshh, I’m not special ,” she waves of the comment, “ this cutie however,” she rubs beneath his chin and he falls over dramatically, revealing his belly.

Alfred The Cat revelled in the attention.

Marinette joins the feline on the bed, lying comfortably on the side while Alfred The Cat purred. An amused smile crosses her classmate’s face.

“What?”

“Nothing,” his smile widened, the boy turned around in an attempt to mask his expression.

Cute.

Marinette had resigned herself to the fact that her heart beating a mile a minute anytime she held the green eyed boy’s gaze too long was not nerves. She sighed softly as Alfred The Cat purred softly, the vibrations inducing a sense of calmness.

“When you are done,” he began, “Would you like to go for a stroll in the garden? We can look for Titus,”

“Alfred said Titus was out in the garden so it may be a while till we find him. Would you like to carry your sketchbook? I feel you might want it,”

She hummed. As they both got off the bed, he led her out the room and through the long and winding hallways.

The passage was dim, the only source of light being the decorative lights at the centre of each panel of wooden designs. She pulled her blazer closer to her body as a chill blew through.

“Are you cold?” the boy’s eyebrow quirked.

“No, no it’s just a little chilly,”

“We’ll be outside soon, it is warmer there”

They passed the library, from which the ajar door she could see another figure seated on the floor crouched over a book against a shelf. Then they passed several other closed doors and one or two sitting rooms with velvet cushions and intricate pieces of decor.

She’d liken the house the Le Grand Paris in its grandeur but the manor held a different air to it.

Where the Bourgeois’ Place was flashy, gold embellishments adorning every nook and cranny, marble on every floor and counter, the manor was more subdued. It was old but preserved well and much cozier.

“J'adore être ici chez toi,” she remarked.

“I’ll make sure to let Alfred know, he takes care of the manor. It’s thanks to him it’s standing at all,” he jokes.

She looks at him curiously.

“My family is a bit…accident prone,”

“Ah,” she grins, “I think I’ll fit right in then, I am a klutz,” she revealed.

She thought back to the multiple close calls she’d had with her locker door. The damn thing was always stuck shut and when she applied too much force, the hinges would cry and she’d narrowly miss smacking the nearest bystander in the face.

Then there were the occasions where quick reflexed classmates saved her from faceplants imminent, the only culprits benign her two left feet.

And of course, her acrobatics during gym. She’d had no problem completing any of the circuits the teacher had thrown her way, she had a decent build after running on rooftops and lifting impossible weights in Paris. Oftentimes, Marinettte would forget that, no, doing cartwheels and flips to avoid dodgeballs were not normal at all. Especially when she’d managed to pull off stunts that’d rival olympic competitors only to slip on her own shoelace the second after.

“Titus!” Damian called to the vast expanse of foliage. His voice projected but seemed that the canine was either not within earshot, or not as disciplined as Damian had led her to believe.

Her friend huffed in annoyance.

“We’ll find him eventually,” he promised.

Marinette smiled softly.

“I don’t doubt that,” taking in her picturesque surroundings, she posed the question, “How- how about you show me the rest of the garden? I can tell a lot of work goes into maintaining it. The few plants I had on my balcony alone are such a hassle,”

Was her maman checking on them? Watering them? Tikki and Pollen had loved to go rolling in the flower bed and sniffing them. They flourished with the constant visits from the little gods.

“As you wish,” was his curt response. A warm hand slipped into her grasp, fingers interlocking themselves between her own.

Badump.badump.badump.badump-

Her heartbeat skyrocketed at the sudden action. He didn’t look back at her as he advanced on the pathway. Although, she noticed the tips of his ears tinted a few shades redder.

Heat rose to her cheek as her stomach did somersaults.

The further they ventured into the estate, the greener her surroundings became. Little shrubs gradually grew into towering walls of foliage, petals of every colour blooming from old pots and decorative ceramics.

She could feel Tikki vibrating with excitement by her side. She spared the boy holding her hand a cautionary glance before cracking her handbag open and whispering to the little being.

“Be careful, make your way back to me by sunset,”

A toothy grin and eager nod followed before Tikki zoomed off.

“Alfred takes much pride in his work,” Damian remarked.

The greenery thinned out and soon there was a clearing, lawn grass carpeting the ground. A mini maze of hip-height shrubs formed mandelas, coloured with various pigmented plants. In the centre, was cast a towering marble fountain featuring a statue with water cascading from the top.

Marinette stood breathless as she took in the scene.

Ethereal .

The garden was unreal. The orange tint cast by the dipping sun illuminated the entire gardenscape with a soft glow. Sunsets were always such a beautiful time of day. Seeing the gradient of hues changing by the minute was a sight to behold.

Marinette had spent countless evenings atop the Eiffel Tower, simply watching with her partner at her side. Just as many as on her balcony with her aerial view of Paris or near the Seine with her friends and an ice cream cone.

“We can sit, if you’d like to sketch? We used to have a swing installed but after multiple incidents it was…removed,” his face contorted, as though recalling an unpleasant memory.

“I would love to. How do you not spend every evening here,” she gestured to…everything.

He chuckled.

“I do seek refuge here from time to time,”

The two sat at the edge of the fountain. Damian fell back on his hand for support while she leaned into his side.

An evening gown. Flowing fabric, maybe silk? Oranges, honey yellow, deep purples. Sweetheart neckline? No no, a mesh, fading from the bust up to the collar bone. Long sleeves, not tight fitted, flowy. Like a shawl? Plunging back. Waistline…basque? Hmm no, that’s not right-

“It’s pretty,” his breath is hot against her ear.

“Eep!” she squeaked, flinching.

A bad move, her hand loses grip of the book and her pencil goes flying. In one swift movement, he extends himself and grasps the corner of it just before it plunges into the fountain.

“Oh my god,” she sighs in relief.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“No no, it’s fine . You’re fine . N-not like That! I mean yeah , you’re fine ,” she rolled her eyes, “ But I meant you’re fine. It’s-”

“Fine?” he offered.

“Eeeexaclty,”

He bit his lip, clearly a poor attempt at suppressing his laughter. A laugh escaped and soon the dam broke. He erupted into an uncontrollable fit and it was infectious .

The two were reduced to a pile of belly pain and struggles for breath.

Some moments later when the two were composed, they sat on the ledge in a comfortable silence. He was smiling brightly at her, and she, him.

She liked when he smiled. Oftentimes, she’d seen him scowling in the hallways and as hot as he was when he was broody, the warm expression he wore now had the butterflies in her stomach fluttering like never before.

His grin so wide,it reached his eyes, his beautiful deep green eyes. His hair was spiky and god knows how much gel he went through on a monthly basis but god dammit if it didn't make her just want to run her fingers through it and mess it up a bit.

She finds herself staring at the boy, rather than her sketchpad, and he in turn returns this soft gaze. There's a subtle shift, he leans in a bit and so does she.

Oh my god was this really happening.

Pinch her if it wasn't real.

The ravenette tilts her head, ever so slightly. He parted his lips and not a second later the distance was closed. A hand found itself on her waist and another crept up her neck and gently held her head.

And they were kissing.

Marinette closes her eyes and leans in further, encompassed.

A red blur zipped passed her at bullet speed, flipping the pages of her sketchbook, raising fallen leaves and sweeping their hair in a westward direction.

Tikki why .

She didn’t get the chance to lament her woes at the ruined moment much longer as almost immediately after, she was bowled over. Not a moment to react and in the blink of an eye, she was soaking wet.

Marinette rose to her feet immediately and gasped for breath, she could hear Damian do the same.

And then.

Then the absolute cutest thing barked at her. Tall and lean with a sleek coat was this dashing hound, panting and wagging his tail. He barked twice more before jumping to his feet.

“Ooooh, Qui est tu mon chéri~” she cooed as the canine jumped around in circles. She rubbed water out of her eyes and wiped her face. Her sorrow at the lost moment instantly vanished.

“Titus,” Damian sighed, “How nice of you to join us,” he gritted out.

The dog, Titus, barked happily, uncaring of his apparent owner’s tone.

“Marinette, I am so sorry for his behaviour I-” he suddenly paused.

Marinette blinked away from the water that was still irritating her pupils.

His hair was slicked back, he��d obviously passed his hand through it in an attempt to tame it.He was drenched in fountain water, just as she was. Fabric clung to his body like a second skin and boy could she have been more blessed.

Just like that glass cutting jawline, his muscular physique was now on display, akin to those statues Alix would info-dump about when they visited Monsieur Kubdels place of work.

Defined as though carved from marble from his bicep to his abdominals, everything about Damian screamed could-throw-you-across the park.

Marinette knew he was fit, he already towered over her and his calloused hands led her to believe had some sort of weapon based training but good lord, not even Tikki could have blessed her with a sight like this.

She had just kissed this work of art.

This work of art had just kissed her!

She could die happy.

The girl was so busy drooling over his abs, she hadn’t really noticed his mirrored gaze.

Marinette made the mistake of looking up. She’d immediately caught his gaze, which was trained at her abdomen.

He was staring at her too.

Fuck she was staring at him!

“Eep!” she squeaked, “Je suis désolée Damian, Je ne voulais pas te regarder fixement!” she splutters, he quickly averts his own gaze and turns around.

She looks down at herself. Merde. Her black bra was showing, stark against her white chemise. Marinette pulled her blazer closer.

This was so embarrassing. She was never going to live this down.

“I..am..also..sorry,” he muttered, still not watching her, although she noticed the tips of his ears had gone all red again, “Inside. We should go inside, it is cold. You will get sick,”

A towering figure. Much like her friend but a few centimetres higher, which was ridiculous . He was as tall as her papa! What did they feed these American boys?

Utterly so, her mind helpfully supplied.

He was pale, a deathly sort of pale with electric blue eyes. If his jarring stare wasn’t unnervingly pretty enough, the swoopy mop of jet black hair, a single stark tuft of white at the front was lethal . Who was this man and why was he so pretty?

The man bore an amused expression, his lips tugging upward every so slightly and sheer delight twinkled in his eyes.

“Todd,” Damian addressed him, tone flat.

This was his brother? Height and lethal face cards (was that the term Adrien had shown her?) aside, they looked nothing alike. Damian had mentioned adoption at some point, hadn't he?

“Demon,” the man raised his voice a decibel and mocked the tone, his eyes giving them both a quick scan, “Had an early evening swim?” he cocked an eyebrow at their drenched figures.

“And who’s the lady friend?” his gaze fell on her, then a wicked grin crossed his face, “Or’ she somethin’ a bit higher up the ladder?”

Heat creeped up her skin at the implications.

“Don’t you have places to be?” Damian huffed, “Or has unemployment taken you hostage again?” he snarked.

The man looked almost offended, guffawing and placing a hand on his heart.

“Again? Yer making me sound like some sorta’ delinquent? I’ll have you know that I have the most stable job outta the whole brood, Timmy’s the runner up,”

He received a pair of rolled eyes in response.

“You know what? I won’t keep ya’. The nearest guest room should have towels, go dry off, yeh? Wouldn’t want you to get sick on a school night,” he sidestepped and walked down the opposite direction, not failing to ruffle his brother’s hair then pick up the pace.

“It’s a school night!” Damian yelled at the retreating figure.

“Do not give a fuck,” the man shrugged.

“Is your house always this empty?” Marinette questions from her burrito wrapped position near the fire.

Recollecting Damian’s…stories, there were at least ten of them. Which was a lot. Maybe some of them no longer lived in the manor?

“No, but everyone else is rather busy tonight,” a lie, he was benched for the week after he shoved Tim off the roof. Which was completely unfair, because nothing broke. Although, perhaps helping Catwoman fuck up ‘Paw for All’ bastards who’d been abusing the strays they caught did not help his case. Which was also justifiable behaviour!

“Oh,” she remarks, worming closer to the flames, her entire self is wrapped head to toe in a thick comforter and she’d insisted he did the same. His apprehension had been immediately dispelled at the unlikely comfort he’d discovered. He bit back a laugh at the sight. It was adorable.

“Does that happen often? From what you have told me, there are a lot of you,”

He scrunched his nose.

“No, we are very lucky Todd was the only encounter tonight,” and they were, everyone being out tonight was one of the main reasons he’d taken his chance and invited Marinette over. Although his perfect evening had been foiled at various points, it was still salvageable.

“Miss Marinette,” Alfred appears beside the nearest couch, crouched down to whisper in her ear.

The parisian’s heart jumps out of her ribcage.

“Alfred!” she squeaks, flopping over, “Aha, when did you get here?”

He only offers a hum in response.

“Does your little friend fancy cookies? I’ve just made a batch, and I figured I’d offer before the young masters got a wind of them,”

Her what.

Her what .

“My what,” she blanches, how did he figure it out?

Did he see Tikki????

Was she compromised???? Already?!

Oh my god she was such a terrible secret keeper! Even Damian's Grandfather was able to figure her out! She was going to have to renounce her guardianship and lose all her memories and start from ground zero!

She’d have to find a new ladybug holder to help chat and then he'd be so heartbroken to lose his partner but at least she wouldn't have to stave off guilt because she wouldn’t remember anything. Oh my god, how would maman and papa feel?

From what she could remember Fu saying, she wouldn't remember anything after she became a miraculous holder. Did that mean her memory would regress to benign fourteen? What about school work? Would she forget everything she’d learnt? And her friends, oh kwami-

“Do not fret Miss, your secret is safe with me. I have had a few…encounters with a man by the name of Wang Fu and couldn’t help but notice your earrings,”

Friend or foe? Friend or foe?Friend or foe?Friend or foe?Friend or foe?Friend or foe?Friend or foe?Friend or foe-

“He is a dear old friend of mine,” he adds with a fond smile.

Friend .

Hopefully.

“Tikki would enjoy a cookie,” she whispers back.

Kwami, hadn’t her heart been through enough today?

Deep breath in.

Exhale.

Deep breath in.

Exhale.

Safe. She was safe, the miracle box was safe. The kwamis were safe .

“It’s late,” she decides, “I should get going,”

Even though she doesn’t really want to leave. But she can’t just invite herself over for the entire night! She’d already taken a pair of clothes and gotten Damian drenched in mossy fountain water.

Though, she’s blaming that one of Tikki.

She does little summer salts in her mind as his expression melts into a frown. Was he sad to see her go?

“You’re right,” he replies and she internally, deflated like a balloon, “It’s late. You should spend the night,”

Come again .

“What?”

Did he just?

“It’s late,” he repeats, scarlet tinting his cheeks, “This is Gotham. I cannot, in good conscience let you leave at this god-forsaken hour. And we have more than enough room.”

She finds herself nodding along in agreement.

“That’s an absolutely great point! It’s too dangerous, I should definitely stay the night! What great thinking Damian,” she plops herself back on the couch.

He sends her a peculiar look.

“Aren’t you going to inform your host family? I’m sure they’d be worried in your absence,”

Right. Host family, that she definitely had, she wasn’t at all living in the penthouse Jagged Stone had basically forced her to take after hearing she was moving to Gotham for the rest of her academic career.

She definitely hadn’t omitted that little detail to literally everyone.

“Good idea!” She quips, pulling her phone out of the handbag resting on the coffee table.

She scrolled through her contacts to Chaton and got up, moving further out of hearing distance.

“Adrien,” she whispered-yelled into the phone.

‘ Marinette, it is two in the morning what the fuck’

“ Well you don’t sound very tired so I’ll assume you were awake anyway,” she rolls her eyes.

‘Whatever. How can I be of service, m’lady?’ he purred. She rolled her eyes.

“If I die, it was the Waynes,” she responds not cryptically at all.

‘Did you steal from another group of rich people, bug? Honestly it’s a bit of a problem at this point. We might have to diagnose you with klep-’

“I did not steal from them you mangy cat,” she hisses into the phone, “And your lack of fate in me is absolutely appalling,”

‘ What’s a-paw-ling is the amount of times you’ve stolen my phone. Anyway, why would the Waynes kill you? They’re good people. As far as I'm aware anyway, I haven't met any recently though.’

“I’m staying the night with Damian,” she mumbles.

‘Eh? Bug, I know my hearing is out of this world but you gotta speak up,’

“I’m staying the night with Damian,” she repeated.

The line went silent.

‘ You haven’t even kissed yet don’t you think you’re moving a bit fast? Where was this initiative when we were together? Even with Luka-’

‘Shut. up. I’ve said my piece, good bye.’

“I want all the de-’

BEEP.

She turned to Damian with a smile.

“They said it’s fine,” she chirped happily.

Somehow, they end up watching ‘The Devil Wears Prada’. Damian had found a ridiculously large and fluffy comforter and they’d huddled together on the couch watching Anne Hatheway survive her new job’s demanding nature.

Marinette spent a good portion of her time watching american films while learning English so it surprised her when Damian revealed he hadn’t seen this one. Apparently his living situation before coming to his Father’s care meant his exposure to media was very limited.

The more you know.

The Parisian enjoyed watching The Devil Wears Prada especially when she was fluent enough to remove the French subtitles. Every watch had her wondering if her life would parallel Andy’s had she gone to New York when Audrey Bourgeois had offered.

Would Audrey become the Miranda to her Andy? It wasn’t hard to imagine there would be difficulty dealing with Audrey on a day to day.

“Get me a coffee, Marigold,” she’d demand, Marinette would scramble down to the lower floors in search of a machine then panic because, good lord she hadn’t asked what kind, and to follow through with the bourgeois tradition, Style Queen would dump whatever poor choice she’d made down her blouse and she’d go find a hole to crawl in and cry.

She kind of missed the Bourgeois (plural). Just a little. There was charm to their bitchiness.

“I want to go New York,” she sighs watching as Andy walks through the shopping district, “you’d never see me again if I stepped foot in there,”

Sure, she’d been to New York with her class. But they didn’t have the freedom to roam as they pleased and she desperately wanted to explore the capital of fashion in America.

“Perhaps another weekend. Although I’d rather not lose you to the streets and bolts of fabric,” he remarks.

She turned to him and leaned in with a grin.

“Really? You’d go with me? Gosh, that would be so much fun!”

In her giddiness, she sat nose to nose with the pink tinted boy, eyes wide and blinking excitedly. She didn't seem to register the proximity while his heart more or less leapt out of his chest

“We could go Friday,” Damian blurted, pulling back and creating some distance, “Together. After school. You have no extracurriculars on this day, yes?” his face contorts in a manner suggesting that maybe his mouth was moving a bit faster than his brain.

Oof, she knew the feeling

“Yes!” Marinette blurts in the same fashion, a little too quickly, “I would love to. Pick me up in the same spot?”

“Of course,”

“It’s a date,” he decided.

She was going to combust.

The parisian turned once more to face the screen.

Wait.

They were going to New york?

But

They were in…New jersey?

What?

“Damian,”

He hummed, eyes glued to the television.

“New York?”

“Mhm,”

“That’s a different state,”

“...yes?”

“How are we getting there?”

“By jet, how else?”

Goddamn rich people.

The movie credits rolled and Alfred was instantly hit with a wave of mushy feelings at the sight of the young master and the lady. An amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips at the sight of the two atop one another, fighting for space on the couch.

The young miss snored softly, her head rested in the nook of his grandson’s shoulder as she lay sprawled out on him, legs tangled in his and the blanket long abandoned, haphazardly thrown onto the floor. He seemed most delighted, one arm one his own head, blocking the light emitted from the tv and the other on the girl’s back.

He shook his head and covered the children with the blanket previously strewn across the ground.

“Aren’t kids adorable?” the kwami on his shoulder cooed, “I’m glad my chosen has found some happiness here,”

“As am I, Tikki. As am I,”

ao3 link

pt 1 link

#marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #maribat #damian x marinette #damianette #daminette #damian wayne al ghul #mlb x dc #ao3 fic

39 notes · View notes