#winter home remedies | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maximoffwitch · 12 days ago

Text

She’s the Best Remedy

pairing: emily prentiss x reader

warnings: slight mention of canon typical violence

summary: when you don’t answer your phone, emily thinks the unsub’s gotten to you. little does she know the only unsub that’s gotten you is the flu.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: so excited to be writing again! and for my fav fbi agent nonetheless :) and btw this is not rly proofread at all so pls forgive any mistakes !

request: not sure which character to choose for this prompt so feel free to choose whoever - it’s nearly winter where i am so it’s flu season and everybody’s got a cold and sniffling. so maybe r catches a horrible cold and is unresponsive to texts and calls because congestion, tiredness, all the symptoms we love so much so character comes to check on them and help them get what they need

As the morning light shone through the curtains, you let out a low groan.

Usually, you weren’t one to object to a slow weekend morning—a relaxing, warm shower and a nice steaming cup of coffee before heading off to do some errands. Mornings with your girlfriend were especially your favorite, when you could just cuddle into her side, basking in her warmth. However, unfortunately for you, neither of those were options today. Emily had been working non-stop this past week on a local case, and on top of that, your body felt like it had just gotten hit by a truck and then run over.

Pulling the covers over your head, you blocked out the light, trying to soothe the pounding in your head. You knew it was flu season, and as a pre-school teacher, you were bound to catch the sickness at some point. You just wish it wasn’t so bad. The occasional sniffles and cough you could handle, but this felt like death was on your doorstep.

You could barely breath out of your nose and your throat was dry as sandpaper. Another groan escaped your mouth, as the ringing of your phone echoed throughout the room. You had no energy to move, let alone talk to anybody, and you needed the ringing to stop, your headache only getting worse as the sound continued. Grabbing your phone, you blindly shut it off before throwing it across the room. Before you could hear it start to ring again, your body gave way and you fell back into a deep slumber.

— — —

On the other side of town, Emily was desperately trying to get a hold of you. Local cases always made her nervous, even more so when she started dating you. Knowing you could be put in danger, both because there was an unsub on the streets of Virginia and because you were connected to her, made her guts twist. However, this case particularly hit home, as the unsub seemed to be targeting women your age who worked with kids–pediatricians, nannies, teachers.

Emily needed to know you were safe; she needed you with her. After asking Hotch if she could bring you in, she stepped away to call you, only to be met by your voicemail. Any other time, Emily would’ve laughed, as she always did, at the ridiculous message you left on your answering machine, but now, she needed to hear your actual voice. Calling again, she was met with the same response. Emily tried one more time, biting her lip when you didn’t pick up, again. Typing out a few texts, she slipped her phone back into her pocket before rejoining the team.

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked, immediately noticing the worry knitted in her friend’s brows.

“(Y/N)’s not answering her phone,” Emily replied as pulled out her phone again to check for any message from you. “And she hasn’t replied to any of my texts.”

JJ frowned, knowing how that was unlike you. You would always respond to calls or texts, especially your girlfriend’s. Sensing Emily’s concern, JJ stood up and placed a soothing hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sure she’s fine. She probably just forgot her phone when she went to the store or something,” JJ said with an assuring smile. “Come on, let’s have Garica track it.”

Emily nodded, liking that idea. The two women made their way through the bullpen and into Penelope’s bunker.

“What can I do for you two lovely ladies?” Penelope chirped, not bothering to look away from the screen, her fingers still flying across the keyboard.

“Pen, I need you to track (Y/N)’s phone,” Emily said. At the mention of your name, Penelope immediately stopped typing and snapped her head around.

“What happened? Is she alright?” The technical analyst’s eyes were wide. From the moment Emily introduced you to the team, Penelope adored you, your bubbly personalities meshing quite well.

“She’s not answering Em’s calls or texts,” JJ explained calmly, ever the level head.

“On it.” Penelope swiveled back around. Emily rang your number again, so the blonde could trace your phone.

As the dot flashed on the map, Emily leaned forward, her eyes narrowing in on the location.

“She’s at home,” Penelope said lamely.

“Her phone is,” Emily corrected, her thoughts already starting to spiral. What if the unsub had kidnapped you? What if he’d hurt you? Or worse…

— — —

Back at your apartment, you had barely moved an inch. It was now nearly noon, and you knew you had to get up at some point, if not only to get some water. Mustering up all of your will and energy, you slipped out of bed and dragged your feet down the hall, steadying yourself against the walls.

After gulping down some water, you leaned against the counter, hanging your head in your hands. You could barely even think about anything other than your bed, the feverous state fogging your mind. As a wave of chills wracked your body, you knew you had to get in the shower and regulate your body temperature. Besides, your hoodie was starting to cling to the thin layer of sweat that coated your body.

Peeling off your clothes and throwing them haphazardly on the floor, you made your way towards the bathroom and into the shower. Somehow, you managed to take a shower–if you could call standing under lukewarm water, your head resting against the cool tile, for fifteen minutes a shower–without falling asleep. With a one track mind, you changed into another pair sweatpants and one of Emily’s old Yale t-shirts, and climbed back into bed, completely ignoring the flashing missed notifications on your phone.

— — —

“Hotch, I need to go over there,” Emily argued as she paced in the roundtable room, where the team was working through existing evidence. “She is not answering any of my calls or texts, and she fits the victimology. I was going to have her come in to keep her safe, but now the bastard may already have her.”

Hotch remained silent, his eyes narrow and stern, as he weighed his options and observed the woman before him. He knew Emily was too emotional to be anywhere near your apartment, especially if it was in fact a crime scene, but he also knew that she was too stubborn to stay away.

“Fine,” he relented, his voice calm and quiet as usual. He turned his stare towards Derek. “Morgan, go with her. And vest up. If the unsub is or was there, I want this done by the book.”

Derek pushed himself out of his chair and quickly followed Emily, who was already out the room and halfway down the stairs.

“Prentiss, wait up,” he called after her as he narrowly slipped through the elevator doors. Seeing the ground level button was already lit up, Derek turned his attention to his partner. “She’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” Emily snapped, still staring ahead.

Derek remained silent, knowing she was right. He knew better than to make false promises, but it hurt him to think of something happening to you.

The two agents made their way over to your apartment, turning on the lights and sirens as they weaved through traffic. Not wanting to make a scene and disturb the rest of the residents, Emily and Derek calmly but quickly made their way into the lobby of your apartment building and rode up to the eighth floor, not drawing their guns until they reached your door.

Emily knocked loudly first. “(Y/N)! It’s me!” She was met with silence. Leaning in closer to the door, she heard no motion whatsoever, causing her insides to twist. “(Y/N)?” Emily tried knocking again. Still no response.

Derek started to back up, getting ready to kick down the door. But before he could even lift his leg, Emily swatted his shoulder.

“Don’t even think about it,” she scolded him, knowing how pissed you’d be if he broke your door. “I have a key, dumbass.”

Derek furrowed his brows as an offended look appeared on his face. “Okay, ouch,” he mumbled, but nonetheless straightened and redrew his gun.

As Emily unlocked the door and entered your apartment, Derek close behind her as he cleared the first room, the silence enveloped her body. It was too quiet; something was off. While Derek was clearing the kitchen, Emily observed your apartment—clothes strewn on the floor, dirty dishes in the sink and on the counter, your unfolded blanket tossed over the side of the couch. The mess was so unlike your usual tidy apartment, and it made Emily even more on edge.

“Prentiss,” Derek called, catching her attention as he motioned towards the hallway. “Bedroom?”

Emily nodded and followed him down the hall. When the reached the cracked door to your bedroom, she moved to enter, but Derek stopped her. “Let me.”

Emily gulped, knowing her partner was looking out for her. If something had happened to you behind that door, she shouldn’t have to be the first one to see it.

Derek slowly pushed the bedroom door open, immediately checking the closet for any sign of you or the unsub. When he turned towards the bed, he noticed somebody was in it, buried under the covers. Cautiously, Derek pulled the blankets back, his gun still pointed at the figure.

You immediately noticed the lack of warmth and the sudden brightness. Groggily, you opened your eyes, ignoring how heavy your eyelids were. You saw a face standing above you, one you recognized.

“Derek?” You croaked, your brain still catching up with what was happening. When you saw his gun pointed at you, you woke up, your eyes widening. “What the hell?”

Hearing your voice, Emily rushed into the room, pushing Derek aside, who immediately lowered his gun, turning on the safety. “(Y/N),” she sighed in relief as she kneeled at the side of your bed, carefully caressing your face. “Are you alright?”

“Besides being bedridden by a nasty flu and waking up to a gun in my face?” You tiredly let your head drop to the pillow, leaning into Emily’s cool touch against your skin. “Just peachy.”

“You’re sick?” Emily asked, another wave of worry washing over her.

“Mhm.”

“Oh, thank god.” She sat up and pressed a long kiss to your forehead, which had cooled since this morning but was still quite warm.

“Relieved I’m sick?” You quipped, though you lacked your usual sass and playful smirk, too drained for a real conversation.

“Relieved you’re not dead,” Emily deadpanned, causing you to open your eyes and frown.

“Dead?” You frowned, clearly confused.

“Yeah, sweet cheeks,” Derek piped up from behind your girlfriend, where he stood holding your phone. “You weren’t answering your phone, and we thought the unsub took you.”

He tossed the device over to you, narrowly missing your face. As you turned it on, you winced at the brightness, but then your lips parted when you saw the amount of missed calls and texts from Emily, and even a couple from JJ.

“Sorry, Em,” you said sheepishly, offering her a small smile, hoping she wasn’t mad at you for wasting her and her team’s time.

“Don’t apologize, honey,” Emily soothed as she brushed your hair from your face. “I’m just glad you’re here for me to take care of.”

You hummed contently at the thought but then weakly protested when you remembered why she was there in the first place. “Don’t need to stay. Have work and chasin’ bad guys.”

Derek snorted amusedly. “Eloquent,” he teased, earning a glare from Emily.

Turning back to you, she smiled softly. “You’re sick, (Y/N). Of course I’m gonna stay and take care of you.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and you felt your body warm—this time not because of your fever.

“Sure?”

“I’m sure,” Emily chuckled as she gave your forehead another kiss. “Let me just wrap some things up with Derek.”

You nodded, closing your eyes blissfully. You could hear the two agents murmuring about something–probably Emily leaving work in the middle of a case–but you could barely make it out, as you drifted back asleep, feeling a lot better now that your girlfriend was here.

— — —

The next time you woke up, your head felt a lot lighter and you could tell your body had returned to a normal temperature. As you opened your eyes and saw the sun had long set, you felt a presence weighing down the other side of your bed. Rolling over, you were met with a sight you’d never tire of.

Emily had changed out of her button down shirt and dress pants, settling for some yoga pants she’d probably left here and an old crewneck of yours. She’d pulled her hair back into a loose messy bun and wiped off the light makeup she’d been wearing earlier. You swore she had never looked prettier.

“You stayed,” you whispered as you nudged her hip with your head, causing her to look away from the files she was reading and down at you.

“Hi, my love.” Emily ran her hand through your hair, scratching your scalp. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now that you’re here.” You moved so you could rest your head in her lap, her warmth comforting you. “‘M sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t worry,” she cooed. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Well, tell Hotch I’m sorry.”

Emily couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. She knew you felt bad about the whole misunderstanding and were probably embarrassed. She’d tell you later that the team was just as worried about you and just as relieved when it was only the flu. “Okay, I will, honey,” she agreed.

You stayed quiet for a moment, doing your best to breathe through your lingering congestion. Despite the horrible day you’d had and the ache that persisted throughout your body, you knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be than here with Emily.

“You didn’t have to stay,” you mumbled as you traced patters on her thigh.

“Of course I did,” she said, tossing her files onto the side table. “You needed me, so I stayed. Where else would I be?”

You turned your head so you could look up at her, meeting her gaze. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Emily affectionately poked your nose, causing you to scrunch it. “Do you want anything to eat? I made your favorite.”

“Not yet,” you replied as you closed your eyes, the feeling of Emily’s fingers combing through your hair soothing you. “Can we just stay here together for a little?”

“Of course, darling,” she agreed, content to just cuddle with you. “As long as you want.”

Feeling loved and cared for, the illness starting to slowly leave your body, you knew that Emily Prentiss was absolutely the best remedy. Thankfully, she was yours to keep.

#my writing #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

201 notes · View notes

wikiangela · 15 days ago

Text

swept completely off my feet, this snow globe scene is turning me

written for @bucktommywinterfest prompt: December 8-14: hallmark movies/movie night and/or “I've actually never seen snow before.

rated: G word count: 2.5k

[also on ao3]

“You know,” Tommy’s voice is quiet, barely a whisper, almost drowned out by the sounds of the TV. It’s some kind of Hallmark movie Buck’s half-paying attention to, half-dozing off after the gruelling shift today. “I’ve actually never seen snow before.” “What?” Buck raises his head from where it’s been resting on Tommy’s shoulder to look at him, immediately more awake. Tommy looks back, almost surprised, as if he didn’t mean to say anything. His fingers keep moving in soothing motions over Buck’s knee, where his legs are thrown over Tommy’s lap. They’re cuddled up under a blanket, and it’s almost too hot – it’s a combination of the blanket, hot chocolate, and the quite warm early December LA evening. It’s far from a true Christmas-winter atmosphere Buck grew up with, but he got used to the warm weather a long time ago. He still misses snow sometimes. He’d never think his boyfriend never saw snow, though. “Never?” Buck asks, trying to keep his shock out of his voice. “I mean, I’ve seen it in movies or pictures.” Tommy gestures vaguely to the TV screen. Buck glances at it to see the characters walking through a snowy landscape. Ah, so that’s what prompted the confession. “I just never had the opportunity to see it in real life.” “In all your forty one years alive? Not once?”

“Evan.” Tommy levels him with a look. “You know I’ve lived in LA my whole life.”

“Yeah, but- but you’re a pilot! You can fly anywhere! And you’ve never travelled?” Buck asks incredulously.

“Nowhere where there’s snow.” Tommy shrugs. “And I’m a pilot for LAFD, honey, not a lot of travelling outside of California. Why is this so shocking? There’s plenty of people who have never seen snow.”

“Still, it’s Christmas. Don’t get me wrong, I love LA, this is my home. But Christmas with snow? That’s a totally different atmosphere. Like in those movies,” he nods towards the screen, now presenting a cozy-looking room, snow behind the window. “The air smells crisp and fresh, you can actually curl up under a blanket with your hot boyfriend and a hot chocolate and not feel like you’re burning ten minutes later,” he says and Tommy laughs, “and all the decorations look so much better with snow – why do you think some people put fake snow in their backyards?”

“We’re not doing that, by the way.” Tommy is quick to add, because lately they’re in the middle of discussing decorating his house, which Buck thinks needs to be much more festive. He already started putting up decorations as soon as December rolled around. Tommy has been indulging him with everything so far, all the lights and garlands and a wreath on his front door, and stockings – Buck ordered custom ones, one with ‘Evan’, the other with ‘Tommy’ on them. There’s also little figurines, like Santas and Christmas trees, and reindeers and whatnot all over the place. They’re only missing an actual tree and decorations outside. And mistletoe, that’s a must. Buck has plans for everything, but there’s still time until Christmas, so they’re taking it slow.

“Of course not.” Buck rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying, it looks better with snow. Also, snow is just fun! You’ve never been sledding? Or ice-skating? Or made a snowman? Or angels in the snow? Or had a snowball fight?” He can feel his eyes get wider with each question, as it’s just settling in how much Tommy’s missed out on – and a plan is forming to remedy that.

It’s not that Buck loves snow so much – he likes it just fine, but he prefers the hot LA weather. It’s just that it’s Christmas, and as un-festive as his holidays at home usually were, some of his favorite memories are when Maddie took him to play in the snow as a child, and how much fun he had with his friends, skating over frozen lakes and having snowball fights.

“And Santa!” He continues, eyebrows raised high. Tommy looks amused now, looking at Buck’s outrage with a grin. “Santa travels by sleigh!”

“Baby, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Santa doesn’t exist.” Tommy says teasingly, mock-concerned, and Buck lightly slaps at his chest. “Besides, he’s magic, he doesn’t need snow.”

“We’re getting off-track here.” Buck shakes his head. “You’ve never seen snow.”

“Never.” Tommy nods.

“Well, you’re gonna.” Buck says decisively, moving to get off of Tommy’s lap, but Tommy’s strong hands keep him in place.

“Where are you going?”

“To grab my phone. I need to find someplace to take you this Christmas to see snow.” Buck says simply, a plan already forming in his head, a thousand ideas coming at once. It suddenly becomes one of the most important things that he makes sure Tommy sees snow this year.

“You wanna go away for Christmas? Really?” Tommy asks skeptically, frowning.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because you’re the biggest family guy I know. Don’t you wanna spend it with your family? I thought we were going to Maddie’s.” One of Tommy’s hands is moving softly along Buck’s back, the other still resting on his knee. Buck sinks into his touch again, relaxes against him.

“Right, we are.” Buck nods, thinking intensely. “Well, we can go away for New Year’s Eve?” He suggests. “We could take two days off, make a trip out of it. And if we can’t get time off then,” he adds, because it is a very busy time, and people usually take time off well in advance. They might need all hands on deck, and then they won’t get time off – or even spend it together, unless by some miracle they run into each other at a call. “We can take a random weekend in January. Or maybe even now, way before Christmas. And we’ll go see snow.”

“Where? You gonna take me to meet your parents or something?” He asks with a teasing smirk, knowing full-well that’s not what Buck meant. He’s on good terms with his parents now, they get along much better, but he’s not taking Tommy to meet them. He already has met them, but also he doesn’t feel the need to go back to his childhood home. Though he hasn’t been back there in years, they could get a hotel room and visit his parents for an hour or so, since they always visit him and Maddie lately… Hm, maybe. It’s a thought, for much, much later. Right now, all he wants is to take Tommy somewhere with snow.

“Ha, you’re so funny.” Buck shakes his head, leaning forward to press a kiss against Tommy’s smile. “No, I’d take you somewhere nice. To one of those towns in your rom-coms.” Buck grins, turning back to the TV and gesturing at the screen, the movie evidently ending, the main couple currently kissing in the snow. He wants to kiss Tommy like this, too. In a quaint, quiet Christmas town, snow falling into their hair, melting on their hot cheeks as they smile into each other’s lips. He wants to give Tommy the most Christmas rom-com kiss he’s ever had.

“Not sure those exist in real life.” Tommy chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest where Buck’s pressed against him. He loves the sound of Tommy’s laugh, but he also loves feeling it vibrate through him, it’s always so nice and soothing, Buck could fall asleep to it.

“Well, I’ll find one.” Buck says decisively. Tommy laughs again, presses a soft kiss to Buck’s forehead, right on his birthmark.

“If anyone’s gonna make it happen, it’s you, baby,” he whispers against Buck’s skin. Buck feels his cheeks warm up, a shiver running down his spine, a dopey smile on his face.

“Yeah,” he smiles smugly, “so if you just let me grab my phone-” He tries to move off of Tommy again, but his man holds him in place, one hand sliding down his back to his hip, the other still on his knees, his grip tightening.

“Later, I’m too comfortable like this.” Tommy pouts, and it’s so adorable Buck can’t not relent. He leans back again, head back on Tommy’s shoulder, Tommy’s fingers resuming caressing Buck’s knees thrown over his lap.

“Okay,” he mutters, his hand settling on Tommy’s chest, right above his steadily beating heart. “I can think of places now, and do my research later, when you’re asleep way before me, like always, old man,” he teases, and gets pinched in his side for this, accompanied by his boyfriend’s laugh.

“Oh, really?” Tommy quirks an eyebrow. “Remind me of that next time you want me to hold you up against a wall for a long period of time.” He says with a teasing smirk, then huffs. “I’ll show you old.”

“Shut up.” Buck laughs. If he wasn’t as tired as he is, he’d try that right now, he loves riling Tommy up, and there’s a good chance they would end up against a wall, his legs wrapped around Tommy’s hips; or on the floor, or in bed, or even just naked on the couch, or just about anywhere in Tommy’s house. Alas, he’s beat, and all he has the energy for is cuddling. Maybe he could use a quick nap during the next movie before he tries to start anything. “Are we watching another one?”

“Of course we are.” Tommy grabs the remote. “You wanna choose this time?”

“No, it’s fine, you choose, baby.” Buck sighs snuggling against his boyfriend, as he watches Tommy scroll through the movie options. All of them Christmas-themed, snowy, perfect for this time of year. And normally it might not be Buck’s first, or even tenth option, but with Tommy, he really finds those movies enjoyable. Or maybe that’s his boyfriend’s presence making everything better, as always.

They can’t find time to get away until mid-January, but as soon as they both get time off at the same time, Buck books a little resort in some small snowy town he found on one of his research binges. As soon as they exit their plane, he can’t take his eyes off Tommy’s face, wanting to see even his smallest reaction to snow. It’s silly. He’s seen snow, on TV, in movies, in pictures. Still, seeing the real thing must be different. Besides, Buck will use any excuse to get away with his boyfriend for a few days.

Especially once they get into the town center, the cab driving them to their resort. There’s still leftover Christmas decorations, there’s a thick layer of snow on the ground, it looks like it’s sparkling in the early afternoon sun. It looks magical. The look on Tommy’s face is even better.

When they exit the car, their feet sinking into the snow, Tommy takes a deep breath, inhaling the icy, fresh air so distinct for snow. He bends down to touch the snow, childlike wonder in his face. Buck is so happy to give this to him, as simple and silly as it might be. He loves Tommy so much, he wants to give him everything he ever dreams of. He’s also very happy to be able to give him some firsts, even if they’re not as groundbreaking as the firsts Buck’s experienced with Tommy so far.

Tommy’s still looking at the snow, now melting in his hand, probably freezing. Buck pays the cab driver and takes their bags out of the trunk, but before they go inside, he gives Tommy a second more. It’s adorable how awed he looks.

It’s starting to snow, too, and when Tommy looks up at the sky, snowflakes dotting his cheeks and getting caught up in his hair, his smile could light up the darkest night, all scrunched up nose and crinkling eyes – the most gorgeous smile Buck’s ever seen in his life. He looks like an angel. It really looks like a scene straight out of Tommy’s favorite cheesy holiday rom-coms. They’re basically alone on the street, surrounded by so much snow, the town really quiet and serene, some vague sounds of life reaching their ears from a few streets over.

Tommy’s so entranced by his first time touching snow and seeing it fall in real life, he doesn’t notice Buck bending down to pick up some snow himself. Buck grins wickedly.

“Hey, baby,” Buck gets his attention, and is almost sorry to ruin the mood, but getting hit with a snowball is a crucial snow experience, and he won’t deny his boyfriend that. So, he throws, gentle enough, the soft snow basically falling apart – fortunately, because he hits Tommy’s face. Tommy yelps in surprise and Buck laughs – and then starts running when Tommy retaliates.

That’s how they end up in a snowball fight, turned wrestling in the snow, turned making out in the snow, right at the entrance of their resort, not caring who sees or judges them, just full of pure, unadulterated joy, happiness, and so much love.

They’re both soaking wet and freezing when they get the keys to their room, giggling any time they glance at each other like a couple of teenagers, the elderly woman at the front desk smiling at them amusedly and fondly. Buck grins at her, and puts an arm around Tommy, kissing his temple. He can’t stop smiling.

They take a walk in the evening, fingers intertwined, snow softly falling, the town looking so peaceful and beautiful and picturesque, like from a postcard. But all Buck sees is Tommy’s face. His sparkling eyes and wonder in his face, and that amazing, wide, happy smile.

“So, you’re having fun?” Buck asks, swinging their hands back and forth. Tommy turns to look at him with a grin.

“Yeah. A lot. More than I expected.” He nods, brings their hands up to his lips to kiss Buck’s knuckles – and as always, this move makes Buck violently blush. “Thank you.” Tommy adds softly, squeezing his hand tighter. “For bringing me here, for being here, for being you. For every day since we met. I’m so grateful to have you. I-” he stops, turns fully towards Buck, his face serious but still so, so fond. And oh, Buck thinks he knows where this is going. His heart starts beating faster. “I love you, Evan. I love you so much sometimes I can’t believe it’s possible.” He shakes his head, his eyes shiny, the gorgeous smile on his face melting Buck’s heart.

“I love you, too, Tommy.” Buck whispers, not wasting even a second once Tommy stops speaking. His heart has been screaming those words for weeks, if not months, and it feels like the biggest relief to finally voice them. “So, so much. I’ve been dying to tell you, I love you. I love you, I love-”

He presses the rest of the words into Tommy’s lips when Tommy puts a hand under his chin and brings him in for a kiss. It’s soft and gentle, both of them not able to stop smiling, as snowflakes fall all over them, catching in their hair and on their eyelashes, small specks of cold on their skin, Tommy’s cold nose pressing into Buck’s cheek. It’s perfect.

He’s standing in the middle of a snowy little town, kissing the man who’s his everything, who’s his entire future, while snow falls around them, and it might just be the most perfect kiss of his life.

[also on ao3]

196 notes · View notes

s-4pphics · 1 year ago

Text

click! 2 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep, all ocs r black coded, crack, alcohol, arguments, more slut-shaming, bullying, disordered eating, brief mentions of sexual harassment/assault, sex for like a second, failed orgasms, masturbation, slight exhibitionism

one. three. four.

A/N: heyyyyy…. how yall doin🤭🤭 a little something before i go back to work kms

“So, lemme get this straight,” Abby pinches a lollipop stick between her fingers like it’s a blunt, adjusting the invisible glasses on her face, “The psycho just barged in?”

“With all of her shit! Didn’t even bother to say good morning or anything!”

It’s been hours since the squash-loving hermit took refuge in your home, and you’re sizzling with rage as you recall the events from earlier. You clocked out zoomed to Abby’s building in no time.

“Damn… why didn’t you call security… or the landlord? She can’t just move in without signing the contract.”

You pace around Abby’s rug-covered space, “Bitch, I don’t fuck with feds and rent’s due in two days!” You holler, “And she did sign the contract! I haven’t signed it yet because I didn’t know she was gonna show up and act like that. You’re not disrespecting me in my own house.”

Her head shakes, “What’d I tell you? If it were me… we wouldn’t have any problems.”

You point a scolding finger at the smirking blonde girl, “Yes, we fucking would. Don’t start.”

But she presses anyway, “I think we’d be a match made in heaven, actually.” She rises from the couch and hovers over you, the tip of your index connecting with her strong, covered chest. Your glare persists, but there’s warmth pulling in your gut from her scent.

Your skin is flaming; This is why you’ll never be able to have a serious conversation — or anything, for that matter — with Abby. Her raunchy remedies aren’t going to work in this situation; You’re too stressed.

“But anyway,” Her brow arches and she backs off. Slightly. “You’re an adult and main tenant. You gotta handle it soon.” She ponders for a moment, “But to be fair, you texted her first.”

“How many times do I have to say that I was lit as fuck! I don’t even remember— “

Abby’s taunting expression makes you pause, nails digging into the skin of your palms.

“Don’t.”

Your hiss makes her snort, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to. It’s not funny.”

Abby knows you and Dina’s history better than anyone. Knows exactly how you got caught up in “situationship” nonsense, all with liquor and a phone. You can’t fault Abby for recognizing the familiarity, but a burning sting rests in your chest. Embarrassment spreads all over your cheeks, and you announce your departure in a rush.

Her regret is evident in the way she calls out for you, but you’re out the door in seconds, slamming it as hard as the frame can hold.

The winter air hits your eyes first… You try to convince yourself, hastily wiping the wet trails off your face. You’re not fucking crying over Dina. Not again.

You snatch your phone from your pocket to ask Amaya for advice, but your heart swells when you see her messages.

You think back to all the times she’s coddled you through your emotions: she drops everything to tend to your needs, no matter how big or small. Guilt would put you in the ground if she ruins her opportunity for your convenience; You can’t tell her. She deserves to enjoy herself. You match your best friend’s excitement all the way back to your car.

Abby called twice during the drive back home, but you didn’t answer. You know she wasn’t being malicious, but you’re sensitive, especially when it comes to anything related to Dina.

You rip your apartment door open and find Ellie lounging on your fucking couch with Love Island playing from her laptop. And eating peanuts… with Chick-Fil-A ranch?

You slam her device shut, words sharp as nails, “I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m telling you right now, you’re not fucking staying here.” You’re shredding through skin with your glare, but she’s not reacting. Just sitting there and crunching, eyes void.

“Don’t even think about unpacking. You’re getting out tonight, I can promise you that.”

“No, I’m not.”

“What.”

She merely shrugs, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“What the fuck— “

More cracked shells, more munching; Your eyelid is jerking.

“Rent’s on the counter, by the way.”

You hold back a scoff before marching into the kitchen, eyeing the envelope labeled fake ass mortgage. You hear the contestants from the reality show resume their dialogue, but you’re locked on how thick the letter looks to bother scolding.

It’s torn open… and filled with hundred-dollar bills. Way more than half of rent. Ellie might’ve covered the heat bill for the rest of winter.

“I thought you were a fucking photographer.” The shock in your voice is clear as day, mindlessly returning to the living room.

“I am.” She calls dryly.

“No, you’re not.” You toss the money on the coffee table. “The fuck do you do on the side? Sell drugs to freshmen?”

“Sure.”

When your arms cross over your chest with an accusatory stare, she sighs. “I told you. I take pictures.”

“Of who? The fucking councilman?”

Another shrug. “Whoever asks. It’s how I make money…” A light pause. “At least until I secure this job.”

You squint at her, “I thought you got evicted. You’re clearly fit to pay rent on your own.”

That seems to shake her a little, staring back with hardened eyes, “And who the fuck are you to question me? The reason I’m here is because of you!”

“Exactly! This...” Arms waving around the living room. “…is my fucking space! You’re a straggler at best.”

A weighted huff escapes her before she tosses her snack on the table and stands, leaning over the table.

“You would’ve been in the same position as me if I didn’t show up. No where to fucking go,” She spits. “If you want me gone, fine. But when your landlord comes knocking on your fucking door asking why you’re two weeks late, don’t say shit to me.”

You waver slightly and she notices, smirk darker than her pupils. You’re steaming; Smoke is going to come out of your ears soon.

“The same goes for you. I don’t wanna hear your fucking voice, and don’t touch anything that I paid for,” You command, “Don’t even breathe in my space. Stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine.”

A condescending grin plasters onto her face.

“Where’d you hide that lease?”

Your heart is too weak for hatred… or so you thought.

Abby, Amaya… everyone you’ve fucking talked to about the bitch right across the hall thinks that she’s dangerous and sick and out for blood.

They’re all wrong. It’s you.

Ellie is conjuring up something villainous deep inside you; Her childish antics started off small: bumping against the wall in the middle of the night, leaving her dirty ass shoes out of place by the front door, not laying the rugs that she slipped on flat… Incredibly annoying, but fixable.

You took the time to construct a new roommate agreement that fit your unique situation the morning after your argument. It was sloppily scribbled on a crumpled piece of construction paper, but it was a symbol of peace. You taped it to her door before you left for your shift, only to return and see it ripped up and scattered in front of your door.

It’s been five days since then. Five, and you can already feel a bald spot forming at the back of your skull. To think that Ellie was your first option as a roommate just days ago is laughable now. You know that none of the tricks she’s pulling are accidental. You pride yourself in being observant, and you always catch that prideful look on her face when she nails one of your peeves.

You try to be here when Ellie’s not, but she’s always home when you are. Music blasting in the wee hours of the night knowing you have three upcoming shifts to cover, on the couch rewatching the same episode of Love Island over and over while you make your breakfast, pretending to talk on the phone to friends she doesn’t have as loudly as possible. You’re fucking tired and you’re holding your hand back from slapping her.

But the worst part is that she’s stocked your fridge with fucking squash. Top to bottom in all colors there is. Filled the drawers with one called cucurbita argyrosperma. You were torn between curling in hysterics and beating it over your new roommate's head; The petty side of your brain wishes that you were allergic so you could “accidentally” eat some, die, and get her locked up, but you hushed it. She’s fucking with you, but rent and some bills are paid for the month. What a sick turn of events.

You’re plotting, though. Something’s brewing, and Abby’s helping you. It’s finally Saturday, and college kids are fiending for a rager.

The only quality that you respect about Ellie is that she’s clean. She washes her dishes, does her laundry (separate from yours, thank God), and she’s deep-cleaned the bathroom twice already. Ellie despises large messes more than you, though, since you’re willing to sacrifice your tidy abode to piss her off. Let the ruckus in!

You heard her leave early this morning, and you’ve noticed that when she’s gone, she’s gone, which gives you all the time to plan. You skip to the bathroom like a kid in a candy store, showering, brushing your teeth, doing skincare. You whip up the hardiest breakfast you can before your mall venture with Abby; It’s been days since you’ve last nutted, and you need a new vibrator. And new paintbrushes.

“… Why haven’t you beat her ass again?”

It only took Abby buying food for you to forgive her. You slurp down your strawberry milkshake, “Fear of permanent imprisonment.”

“Does Maya know what’s been going on?” Abby asks, shaking her head.

“Fuck no, and she’s never going to. Have you seen her Snaps?” You whip out your phone and show her Amaya’s stories; She’s exploring and meeting new people. “She’s having a ball! The second I tell her what’s been going on, she’s gonna drop everything and come back. I’m not doing that to her.”

“You’re the only outlet I have, so suck it up and listen to me bitch and moan.” You continue, “Who’s coming tonight?”

She smiles, “As many as I could get.”

“Please tell me Armani’s coming.”

“She is, for sure.”

Your heart flutters. Armani… She’s everything you could ever want and need. She’s kind, smart, drop-dead gorgeous, and she bench presses with Abby on the weekends. She has your clit jumping like a salmon in the freshwater, and you’re going to see her tonight.

You jump awake at your alarm, eyes stinging as you glance at your phone. It’s a little past nine; Pregaming hours.

You throw your lazy body into the shower and conduct your special-occasions ritual, blasting your music as loud as the speaker would allow, scrubbing your body with exfoliant to your heart's content.

You exit, water cascading down your shoulders and back, towel engulfed around your body. You have no idea what to fucking wear; What color does Armani like? Do lesbians qualify for the red nail theory or is that something heteros made up for TikTok followers? What if she doesn’t like eucalyptus scented body wash?

You swallow your doubts with a shot glass.

Outfit prepping takes longer than expected, but you’re dressed, titties are out, and your thoughts are swirling like the liquor in your gut. You should call Amaya and tell her you love her—

Another shot, more dancing. You’re spinning around your small room to the bass of the beat, sloppily pulling every shot that you can, back arching and hips throwing in any direction they can.

The bass sounds louder the more you dance, every thud rattling the poster-covered walls of your room.

It’s not until the bass surpasses the song that you realize it’s not bass at all. It’s knocking… on your bedroom door. You snicker; Abby’s here with your girl.

You don’t know why she’s boxing with your door, though. Beating the shit out of it. When you yank it open, you’re instantly annoyed at who appears behind it.

A… gray sweat clad Ellie propped against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest and red hairs framing her face. You force your eyes upward, right in between hers. The dots on her face look like skittles. Since when does she have a fucking tattoo? Are you hallucinating or is it a fat ass leaf with eyeballs?

You barely registered what she said, “Can you turn that off? It’s almost eleven.”

“Why, absolutely-the-fuck-not.” You slur, and she cringes, nose wrinkling at the scent of liquor on you. “Where’s Abby?”

Ellie’s biceps are… out on the prowl. And the veins in her hands are still there. Just checking. Right between her eyes again.

“Who the hell is that?”

“My bitch.” You chuckle.

Ellie’s eyes widen and you correct yourself.

“N-Not bitch like whore. Bitch like… like, that’s my bitch! She’s great, love her. BFF… not over Amaya, though.”

Ellie’s getting annoyed; Her nose won’t stop twitching. “… Is she coming over?”

“She should be on her way.”

“Is she stupid?”

“What.”

“Is your… bitch stupid?”

“Um, no, she’s not fucking stupid. What the hell are you on.” You snap, offended for your friend.

“Tell her to stay the fuck home before she gets buried.”

… Did Ellie just threaten to kill one of your sneaky-links? Before she gets buried?

“And what the fuck are you gonna do? Just so you know, whatever you do, she’ll double it and send it back! And I’m jumping in, so— “

Your roommate’s gawking in disbelief. “… I meant buried by the snow, you fucking idiot. There’s a blizzard outside.”

You’re flatlining, you can feel it.

“There’s a what.”

“Check the damn news.” She pushes herself off the wall and turns towards her room, “And go to bed. Looks like you need it.”

Her door slams shut. She’s definitely poking fun at your eyebags. You thought you did a good job at concealing them.

A fucking blizzard? December just started. You check your phone, reading the influx of messages from your dad, Amaya, Abby telling you to stay safe and indoors and the party’s cancelled because of the storm and you want to fucking die—

You tear a slit in your blinds and… yup. Pure white is pelting from the dark gray clouds in the sky, the formerly black street painted ivory with ice. Not a car in sight, and if they are, they’re covered entirely.

The harsh reality hasn’t even set in yet. The girl you want to strangle is trapped inside with you; She’s not going anywhere, either. You’re going to be forced to see her everywhere in your two-bedroom apartment. And you’re not having sex tonight.

Plan PISS-ELLIE-OFF was a bust. You’re drunk and hungry—

Your eyes bulge; When was the last time you’ve gone grocery shopping?

You clumsily rush to the kitchen, nearly ripping your fridge door off the handle. When you're met with the pack of cream cheese and mini croissants you bought last week and all of Ellie’s fresh groceries (including squash), you almost start crying. You slept away all your pre-storm chore hours.

Ellie pads in the kitchen with an empty ice cream carton and spoon, headphones blasting in her ears. She doesn’t acknowledge you as she throws away the carton and grabs the unopened bag of salt and vinegar chips. Your mouth waters.

You watch as she rips the bag open, the salty, bitter aroma traveling into your nostrils.

“Ellie.” She can’t hear you over the fuckery penetrating her eardrums!

You tap her shoulder harder than necessary. “Don’t touch me.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THERE WAS A STORM?”

Her veiny hand — fuck — pushes one of her ear cups over to the side, not even bothering to look at you as she fills her bowl to the brim with the crunchy snack; You never noticed how heavily pierced her left ear is.

“Who are you again?”

Alright. Your tongue gets loose, “You know, you don’t have to act like a fucking cunt all the time! I tried to be nice to you and—”

“Yeah, ‘cause shit talking me with your friends is so fucking nice.” She scoffs and turns, pointed glare set on you. Your stomach drops. How the fuck did she know that?

“Drop the fucking act already. You’re also a cunt…” Her eyes drag over your appearance. “Amongst other things, evidently.”

Ellie’s eyes hold so much disdain, and you instantly feel exposed and gross. Your face sears with embarrassment, arms mindlessly crossing over your chest in attempts to cover up.

“… What the fuck does that mean?” You know what she means.

“You think I’m a fucking freak and a loser and a bunch of other shit I’ve been called since forever?” She sneers, “Then you’re a fucking slut. How’s that for nice?”

Your body locks up, freezes, and you fight back vomit. Ellie grabs her bowl and exits the kitchen, door slamming shut, leaving you to simmer in her spite.

You don’t feel hungry anymore.

You didn’t drink enough last night. You’re awake, and you remember everything. And you’re so fucking hungry.

Guilt festers in your chest like rats, and anxiety is building in your fingers. Your head hurts so bad and your mouth is dry, but you refuse to move from under your blankets to get water. You didn’t even have the energy to take your make-up off last night, mascara and small sparkles smeared all over your pillowcase.

You wallow, using the heavy wind outside as stress relief. People really think you’re a whore with no self-respect, even after a year. Your heart’s hitting against your ribcage at an alarming pace. Deep breaths, that’s all you can do.

Tears jerk in your eyes as you recall every unwanted stare, every cat-call, every grope and dirty text message you’ve received from people you both know and don’t. You freeze and… that’s it. You just don’t move and hope they can read that you’re scared.

Does Ellie feel the same way when people talk poorly about her?

Your breathing techniques aren’t working so you sit up, shaking your hands and digging your palms into your wet eyes. You’re suddenly too hot for blankets.

Your clock reads near noon; You’ve been awake for hours. Your feet plant on the cool wood and sigh in relief before standing and snagging your new paint brushes off your dresser.

Your hands tremble as you fill a water cup and grab a black canvas, setting up your workspace on the floor. You squirt hues of blue, green and white on a dried paper plate and let your brush do the work; You’re not thinking, just painting, smudging, trapping yourself in emptiness. The scene you’re creating is drying your tears; You wish you could escape into the grass field, even for a second.

Your water cup is brown by the time you finish; How long have you been sitting here? The needles in your legs tell you long enough. Your vision will have to wait.

You unlock and quietly open the door… It doesn’t matter, though. Ellie’s awake and silently sitting on the couch. You pay her no mind and venture to the fridge for your croissants and cream cheese, throwing your pastries in the microwave.

Eyes are on you. You feel them in your back.

When the microwave dings, you spread cream cheese all over the buttery dough. Ellie’s hoarse voice freezes you. Not again.

“The blizzard… isn’t stopping.”

You finally inspect your roommate: leg bouncing and brows furrowed, nails between her teeth, eyes locked on the window that shows the heavy snowfall.

“Usually how they work.”

Your sarcasm doesn’t move her, “They said it would pass after a couple of hours yesterday! It hasn’t let up yet!”

“Never listen to weathermen. They make shit up as they go.” You keep your voice curt while you make your plate. It looks a hot mess; You wish you had blackberry jam.

“They can’t make shit up when there’s money on the fucking line!” You hear footsteps from behind you; Ellie’s pacing. “I have a client today. Their photos were supposed to go in my portfolio before I submit it!”

Her statement makes you pause. You didn’t think about that; It’s impossible to travel anywhere at the moment. How the fuck are you going to get to work? You can’t afford to miss shifts. It’s almost that time of the month.

“This was one of the biggest bookings I’ve gotten and I’m gonna miss it because of the fucking weather!”

You don’t know why she's talking to you, so you cut the conversation short. “You’ll figure it out.” You enter your room without another word, slamming the door as hard as noise complaints would allow.

After a few minutes, Ellie’s door slams, too.

Hours pass and you’re covered in paint. Your one flower field turned into three, one with detailed butterflies, one with raining rose petals, one with your mother’s name spelled out with clouds.

Your fingers are sore, but you feel lighter. Those croissants wore off a long time ago; You’re starving. What you’d give for grilled eggplant and shrimp with Greek yogurt and lemon juice—

A soft knock lands on your door, and you stiffen. You stand, legs popping and arms stretching over your head as you wobble to your door.

The second it opens, you're hit with the smell of garlic and herbs and your mouth waters. Ellie stands over you, playing with her fingers. You don’t register that you’re missing pants until she gawks at your bare legs; Warmth spreads across your body and you maneuver so she can’t see them behind the door.

A moment of awkward silence before she chokes, “There’s, uh… there’s soup on the stove.” You scoff, ignoring the growling in your stomach.

“I don’t like squash, Ellie.”

The door slams in her face and she sighs behind the wood.

…

Later that night, you sneak into the dark kitchen, the big pot of soup still on the stove. You open the lid and inspect its contents: shredded chicken, carrots, fucking… green leaves of some sort. You grab a spoon and taste it to be safe. It’s good, and there’s no squash in it. You eat two warm bowls.

The storm calms when you wake the next morning. Thank God; You haven’t had coffee in days.

Ellie’s gone for the day, so you blast music while in the shower. You dry and dress in silence, yanking your underwear and jeans up your legs, throwing on a pair of earmuffs over your earphones and a puffer.

You almost slip on the ice from the sidewalk on the way to you and Abby’s coffee shop before heading to class like normal. You go grocery shopping before your first shift.

Work drags on like normal, legs numb from standing and throat dry from sale attempts at checkout. Who the fuck wants to apply for a credit card for a coffee machine website?

It’s not until your shift is on its last limbs that your heart stops in your chest. The bell rings to the hardware store, and you instantly rush to the back to retrieve your other coworker. It’s Dina. What the fuck.

You burst into the break room, “Raja, Raja, I need a favor.”

She slurps her ramen, exclaiming what around her soggy noodles.

You search for any heads and whisper, “There’s someone I used to fuck outside! Can you take care of her, please, I can’t— “

“Okay, okay, damn. I got it— “

The service bell rings, “Go, go! Hurry up!” Your coworker swallows her noodles and plasters her smile on her face. You hide behind the cracked door and listen to everything.

“Hey, ladies! Sorry about the wait!”

“No problem!” Dina’s laugh sends a pain in your chest, “I just needed a new bike lock. Someone tried to steal mine, like, what the fuck.”

There’s an unfamiliar laugh that melds with Dina’s. “No problem! Would you like to sign up for a Coffee Brewers credit card with your purchase? They’ll repair all filter baskets and decanters for 45% off!”

You almost smile; Dina doesn’t drink coffee. Raja checks them out, and you peer out the small opening of the door. Dina and… whoever the fuck that is are snuggled up behind the service counter, her head resting on the random’s shoulder. They’re whispering and laughing and you’re disgusted. And sad.

They depart with a small bag and Raja almost smashes the door into your face.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Mourning.”

“Damn… sorry, man.”

You shrug and thank your coworker before returning to your position. What could’ve been.

It’s late when you get home.

Ellie’s on the couch; You feel her watch as you unlace your boots and unravel your scarf. You set your bag on the floor and grab your Cheesecake Factory brown bread loaf for your grilled PB&J. Ellie clears her throat; You say nothing.

She coughs louder when you butter your bread.

“Are you sick or something?”

Ellie whips her head around, “No, why?”

“You’re coughing like you’re gonna die.”

Your roommate doesn’t reply, so you turn and toast your bread on the stove.

“How was the soup?”

Your eyes bulge, “Huh?”

“Did it taste… like, decent?”

You stare down at your sizzling toast, “I dunno what you mean.”

Voice flat as ever, she says, “The soup… you had some— “

“No, I didn’t— “

“Wha— I know what was in the pot when I ate. You had some—”

You face her, skin boiling, “Okay, and what about it? Yes, I ate some! I would’ve had three bowls instead of two if I wasn’t so fucking tired! It was good as fuck! I slept like a baby!”

She calls your name but you ignore her, “Sorry, I got my disgusting, slutty germs all over your stupid chicken noodle soup! Is that what you wanna hear! What, are whores not allowed food, either?! Why’d you offer it to me then?!”

Another rushed call of your name, but you press on, “Y’know, you’re actually weird as fuck! Who calls someone a filthy, bottom of the barrel gutter rat then offers them soup the next day! What kinda limbo fuckery are you playin’ at— “

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP… BEEP—

You gasp when the fire alarm sounds. When you turn, your toast is charred black and surrounded by dark smoke. You cut the heat off and push the pan over. Ellie’s running with a towelette, waving it around the beeping alarm.

You grab a washcloth and help her, and eventually it cuts off. Ellie rushes over to the front door and switches the ceiling fan on.

Your sandwich is fucking ruined. Great!

You don’t know why you’re sobbing, but it’s loud. You just want to go to fucking bed. Ellie’s just standing there with a towel in hand, fiddling with her earlobe. How embarrassing.

You push yourself off the counter and turn to go to your room, but Ellie calls for you.

“What?! What now, Ellie!”

She cringes, “I— You’re not a… slut?”

Your teary eyes squint at her. “Are you asking me— “

“No! No, I’m… Sorry? You’re not a slut.” This is the weirdest apology you’ve ever received in your entire goddamn life.

“Well, fuck me! Thanks!” You snark between sniffles. You yank your bedroom door open.

“You’re good at painting!” She shouts, and you stop.

For some reason, you sob harder, and she panics, “Uhh… I mean, like, for an amateur! Like, you’re decent enough!”

Now you’re… laughing? You need to sleep now. Ellie chuckles uncomfortably, and you snicker darkly to yourself, “Life is a fucking joke, oh my god.”

Your fingers dig deep into your wet eyes, and Ellie’s sock-covered feet pad closer.

“Look, I’m not… I don't know what to say.”

“Then don’t talk.”

“‘Kay.”

She stands there in silence and watches you wipe your face on your sweater sleeve, mascara smearing all over the fabric.

“Why didn’t you use squash in the soup?”

“Uh… you wouldn’t have eaten it if I did.”

You nod and stare at the wall. “So, what? That was a peace offering?”

Ellie contemplates what she should say.

“Not really… I mean, I was hungry, but I didn’t care if you ate… some of it, if that makes sense.”

It doesn’t. “Whatever, I’m going to bed.” Her lip curls like she wants to add something, but she doesn’t.

“… Alright.”

“Don’t worry about the pan. I’ll get it tomorrow.” And just like that, you shut the door on her again.

You don’t have the energy to shower, so you undress and tuck yourself in. Your room is warmer than usual.

Ellie’s been acting differently since then.

For the past three days, she’s been greeting you whenever you’re in her line of vision. She even mumbled hi before she took her seat in stats yesterday. It’s awkward and stiff, but there’s always a wave somewhere in her movements. You nod back at her every time.

You’re not sure where your relationship lies with your roommate, but it’s not as… bad? Seeing her doesn’t bother you as much as it did; You suppose it’s the same for her, too.

You’re exhausted; Finals are around the corner, and you’re busting your ass. You had to get another job for the holiday season since it’s you and your dad’s first Christmas together since you were little, and you want to get him something nice.

All you need is a good nut and you’re set for the next two weeks. You miss Abby. She’s been just as busy with nonsense as you have, but you found time to see her later tonight.

You’re stuck in the library trying to make the concept of categorical variables stick, but it’s not working. You’re in a block because you’re thinking about Abby. She should be here to pick you up soon.

You slam your book shut when your phone goes off, a message from… Ellie.

You set your phone down with a small smile. What a weirdo.

You force yourself to study for another hour. Heavy hands clamp down on your shoulders and you shriek, other students looking up in confusion, your hand clasping over your mouth.

Abby’s laughing behind you, warm breaths hitting your ear before she kisses your cheek.

“Hi.” She whispers.

“Hi yourself.”

“Pack that shit up.” Abby points at your books and messy stacks of paper. “Let’s roll.”

You don’t hesitate, shoving everything in your bag in anticipation of your nut. Your clit’s cheering; She’s finally happy.

You’re warm, well-fed, and Abby’s drilling the fuck out of you, but you can’t cum.

Your face is shoved into your friend’s pillow; She’s hitting exactly where you need her to, and it feels good. You’re tipping, but you haven’t tipped. You’ve been on the verge of orgasming for the past ten minutes and it’s driving you crazy.

Your voice is barely there, “Just cuuum, just cum, just cum—“ You’re begging… yourself into her pillow.

Abby sounds so sexy behind you; You’re shocked you’re not convulsing at the sound of her voice alone.

After some time, her hips slowed into a stop, tip nudged inside you.

“… You good?” She exhales.

You throw her two thumbs up. You’re not good at all.

Abby snorts and pulls out, gently patting your hip, “Sit up and talk to me.”

Your legs give out from underneath you and you lay flat. Abby hands you a washcloth and you wipe between your legs while she unstraps her dick.

“I think I’m broken.” You muffle into her slobbery pillowcase.

“You’re not broken, you’re just not feeling it. It’s fine.”

She’s too sweet. You want to cry, “I’m sor— “

“Don’t you dare. Finish your Wingstop.”

“Okay.” You grumble.

Abby drops you off after the movie finishes. The red string that connects her clit to yours snaps as you waddle back up to your apartment.

You enter your shared home and you’re instantly freezing; Ellie’s not here. She hates sleeping when it’s cold.

You and your pussy sigh in relief. Just five minutes by yourself; that’s all you need. Your shoes and backpack are thrown to the side in the nick of time, bursting through your bedroom door and rummaging through your drawer. Your cunt screams eureka when your vibrator turns on. You don’t remember charging the son of a bitch!

Your pants and panties are lunged across your bedroom and you leap into bed. Your toy’s buzzing in your hand, and your walls squeeze in anticipation. Foreplay be damned.

Your eyes shut the second the vibrations hit your clit, trying to imagine a sweaty Abby on top of you, fucking you deep, choking you out. Your orgasm is right there, walls desperately trying to milk the brisk air around you. You shove two free fingers inside, and your muscles latch onto them, pulling them in deeper. It’s right there, just a little more.

“Please, please, c’mon, fuck— “

Your pleas go ignored. Your imagination has never failed you, so why can’t you fucking cum?

Desperate sobs combine with your moans, brain filled with Abby, and Dina. Even Armani slips her way in there and you’ve seen her twice in person, but it’s useless. Your peak never comes.

You’re seconds away from shattering your window with your fucking vibrator. You and Ellie can’t afford to get that shit fixed—

Your clit jumps at the brief image of your roommate, pissed off and berating you about breaking a fucking window. You hate that you don’t fight it, the visions of her and her strong arms, her twitchy nose, her dot-covered face. It’s stirring something vicious in your tummy, and you can’t keep your mouth shut.

You see her on top of you instead of Abby, her short hair loosening from her bun and framing her blushing face. Pretty, moss-filled eyes stare back at you, annoyance and bother replaced with something darker. Needier; She wants you to take from her.

“Fuck, fuck, mmh— “

Your hips buck when your positions switch in your mind, a blushing, spent Ellie, reaching for you, pulling you close, begging to touch her.

You’re so loud when your orgasm splits your brain in two, your stress melting away in an instant, nasty, unspoken visuals of your pouty and weird housemate fluttering beneath your eyelids. You ride your high until you can’t, vibrator clattering to the floor, walls flexing around nothing.

You’re so tired that you don’t bother moving. You pull the covers over your trembling form and knock out, not even bothering to turn your shaking toy off as it rattles on the hardwood.

It’ll be dead by the time Ellie comes home. If she does.

…

Ellie lays on her side in her bed, knees pulled to her chest, her tattooed arm wrapped around her tummy and a hand covering her mouth. Her face is burning hot and her stomach is swirling. Whenever she blinks, she can see you, eyes rolled to the back of your head as you surrender to your release.

Her heart is racing and minutes away from crawling up her throat.

She completely forgets to put in that maintenance request for your broken heater; She’s warm enough under the covers for tonight.

A/N: hi again its finna pick up LEMME COOOOOK LEMME COOK

TAGGIES LOVE YALL MMMWAH : @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane @muthafuckingstargirl @mina-281 @yuckyfucky @aimformyheartt @elstoy @skylerwhitwyo @sawaagyapong @nil-eena @dewylittlestars @sakiigami @feelsoseencantdream @ellieslittlegf

#click! ☾⋆⁺₊📸✧#ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x black!reader #black!oc #black!reader #works 𖧧࣪#lesbian

1K notes · View notes

lalunanymph · 9 months ago

Text

𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎

in japanese culture, 'jizos' are small figurines dressed in red caps and bibs to honor the souls of babies who were never born

tw miscarriage, implied cheating, heavy angst, itoshi rin x fem!reader

The salty sea air stung his eyes, drawing to them a sheen of tears that threatened to spill out by the sight that greeted him.

Close to the shore, draped in a long trench coat and staring out into the horizon, the woman he loved stood with her back turned from him, shoulders hunched and eyes vacant.

After days of traversing this small town and asking around well-meaning shopkeepers and local experts, he had finally found the plum orchard belonging to her family. A few kilometres from the bountiful field was the seashore where she often spent time in the evenings to conclude a full day of plum-picking.

Rin stared at you, at your silhouette, raking his eyes up and down your figure like a starving man. There was a pit hollowing out in his rib cage, right underneath his heart where it used to beat valiantly—strongly—and now was nothing but an empty shell. He took one step forward, and stopped.

The beach was empty today, the winter season repulsing tourists from enjoying the crystalline waters. Vendors and tired mothers alike could not find solace from this harsh weather, and so they turned inward, away from the harsh cold. But, you could not be any different. You sought out the wind, the chill and the loneliness like an orphan chased away from home, tracking the clouds in the sky with sightless, forlorn eyes.

Rin watched as you sat down on a stone bench, drawing your knees to your chin. He thought you had never looked this small and fragile as you did now.

His feet took him towards you without him telling them to, an impulse he swore he had gotten rid of those months ago when you disappeared from his life and into anonymity. Every step forward felt like he was walking on glass, and he paused in jerky stops, wrestling with his trembling knees that ached to kneel before you in seeking forgiveness.

You heard someone approaching, and the sudden interruption to your usual peaceful days fractured into broken shards of icy realisation when you saw him standing a few feet away.

His mop of dark green hair with its too long bangs falling in his face, the pinch between his brow and the devastation in his hollow, teal eyes. He looked thinner than you remembered, shoulders hunched and cheekbones gaunt. The most telling of his suffering were his eyes—they were always filled with fiery passion and disdain for those he perceived as useless and weaker than him. Those teal pits were depleted of their rage, replaced by crestfallen despair that made you wish you never turned around in the first place.

Something fractured in you, razing down your composure for a few seconds to allow a show of fear flitting across your face. Rin walked towards you with his palms raised, a peace treaty for his declaration of conflict. He pleaded without words for you to stay put, even going so far as to approach you cautiously like you were a wounded animal.

Your breathing ran jagged, and a tremble overtook your hands. Rapidly, your eyes ticked towards the closest escape path, wondering how fast you could sprint to evade his touch—his presence—and hide away once more so he could never unearth you again. As if he could read your mind, Rin’s hoarse, low voice pierced through the blood rushing in your ears.

“Y/N, stop. Don’t run.”

You stood, rooted to the spot, breath tumbling out in frosty trembles. He stopped a few feet away from you, letting you gasp in the salty air that was not tainted by his familiar pine cologne and musk. Giving you some space to adapt to his presence.

Rin was a man who floundered with his words if it wasn’t steeped in threats or aggression. There was nothing he could do to remedy the sudden catch on his tongue, the lump in his throat that almost swallowed him whole. You were better at this than he was; better at speaking, at expressing yourself and your love. You were always a better person than he was.

He could not even offer you comfort because he forgot how it felt—how comfort tasted and moulded in between his embrace, forever lost to his blind touches ever since the day you disappeared from his life.

The wind started to pick up and bite your exposed wrists, and you wished you had brought some gloves to ward off the chill of his ocean deep eyes boring into yours.

Neither of you spoke for a time, the waves crashing to shore the only accompaniment to this lovelorn scene playing out between two people who were no longer lovers. You glanced at your boot-clad feet sinking in the soft sand, and turned your gaze out towards the horizon.

The wind played with the edges of your locks, and Rin fought the unreasonable urge to tuck them behind your ears, to not take your cheeks in his hands like he used to do a million times before.

“Y/N—”

“Why did you come here?” Your voice was feathered with exhaustion, echoing the dark circles underneath your eyes. “The paparazzi will catch you—your career will be on the line if you’re seen with me. You should go.”

You turned around to walk away and Rin didn’t know what was worse—that your first thought was to keep his reputation safe or that you assumed he hadn’t taken the consequences into consideration when he made this impossible move to find you. There were more dire concerns on the line besides his reputation; his probation with PXG hanging in thin air, the number of fouls piling up on his name, the amount of misses he had during last week’s training alone…

But, Rin disregarded them all. He buried them in the back of his mind as he took a train, then a plane and rented a car to drive himself to this little, far-flung town hundreds of miles away from Tokyo.

Just for a chance to see you.

And you had turned your back on him, thinking he was here by mistake.

He wasn’t.

Rin reached out to grab your wrist, not anticipating the choked cry you released. He cringed away like you had scalded him and noticed a second too late the silvery tracks running down your cheeks.

“Please,” your voice was hoarse, pitiful. “I already gave you everything. Everything, Rin. Please leave me alone.”

The tiny sniffles you expelled, the tears you dashed away and the completely miserable fracturing of your expression made him come to a hard pause.

Rin swallowed heavily, about to reach out for you again when you shrank back and shook your head. His lungs were filling up with water and his knees were weighted with lead when they sank into the sand, strong arms vining around your torso as he buried his face into your lower back. Desperately holding onto you so you wouldn’t wash away like his hopes and dreams—whispers of foolish wishes that would never come true: of the peaceful life he wanted to have with you, your beautiful face the first thing he would see every morning when he greeted the world, the adorable reflections of your children who would have his eyes and your smile…

“Don’t,” his pleas cracked under the weight of his muffled sobs. “Don’t go. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m… I’m so sorry, baby.”

But, like sand slipping through his fingers, you evaded his grasp and anguished yearning, leaving him alone on his knees as if you never existed in the first place. The brief contact he had with you seared through his skin like an iron brand, tasting of your warmth and sunshine he had missed in what felt like decades. It was like he could finally smell, see and love vividly, only for that light to be taken away from him when you pried his hands off you and took one step forward.

Disregarding him behind in the dust like how his brother once did. Rin refused to let you go, gripping onto the hem of your coat, praying you would turn around and see him again—love him again.

“Rin—” The choked emotion in your tone was far from the spite one would assume a heartbroken woman like you would have.

You had known Itoshi Rin to be an incredibly proud man who would never beg or plead for anyone quite like how he was bowing on his knees for you. And it pained you to see him this broken down—this beaten.

Because of you.

“Stop. Don’t.” Stand up, live your life, leave me alone.

Words you could not say perforated the air harsher than any salt or mineral could to rust the foundations of your feeble relationship with Rin. “Please, go. You… I don’t want to do this. We’re over, Rin. We’ve been over. Stop. Don’t do this.”

You halfway wished you hadn’t glanced back at him to tug your coat from his grasp. Wished you hadn’t seen his red-rimmed eyes, his swollen lips from biting back quiet sobs or the utter agony you could never fully grasp swimming in those beautiful teal irises of his. They swirled around you like dangerous eddies, dunking you into their icy bellies and numbing your rational thoughts from the perilous consequences.

And you valiantly fought off the current, trying hard to shake the hatred lingering in your soul for the words he spat in his brother’s face during the heat of their argument.

It happened weeks ago but you could still recall what he said like it was imprinted on the back of your eyelids.

Don’t be a lukewarm idiot—she’s worthless and means nothing to me. I only wanted to take revenge on you so you would know what it… what it felt like to lose!

A tear slipped past his lash line, free falling down to the grainy ground and sinking into the porous beyond. How many tears had the sand taken from the sea only to welcome her agony over and over again like a patient martyr? Another drop was hardly a burden onto his shifting shoulders; Rin’s heartbreak held no substance in time besides this very second, soon to be absorbed, never to be seen again.

All you did was sped up the process, not wanting to delay this excruciating torment and endure it for another second longer.

“I’m sorry,” he offered again, this time in a softer tone, as if he understood he had lost the war before it even began. “I didn’t mean what I said, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, baby? Please? Take me back.”

The last sentence was more of a desperate order than a request, his entire heart on the line when he reached out to you again, beseeching you like a sinner begging for clemency from a deity, taking your hands and pressing your palms to his cheeks. “Let me explain myself. I love y—“

“Please.”

The warmth you bestowed onto him even for just a few seconds was ripped away again, with more force this time, and you didn’t care if he was on his knees; you wanted to run away and never see him again.

Taking a few mincing steps back, your heart exploded with agonising relief when he didn’t move after you, frozen to the ground with his arms extended out towards your direction. They eventually flopped back to his side, losing all momentum and hope when you shook your head, fighting back a sob with a palm pressed to your mouth. Your eyes were heavy with unshed tears, and the moment you looked away, one of those pesky droplets broke free and slipped down your cheek, illuminating a path he wanted to kiss away with his apologetic lips; to stop the flow of sorrow with his aching devotion.

But, from your tense shoulders and frozen shock, you would rather swallow glass than let him do that; you wouldn’t let him come close to you without putting up a fight.

Balling your fists over your mouth, he watched, helpless to do anything but watch when you expelled a loud, muffled sob and shook your head from side to side, as if to push off the pain clinging to you like a second skin.

“Go,” you heaved through the cracks of your fingers, shaking from head to toe. “You’ve taken everything from me—my life back in Tokyo, my relationship with… with Sae… my reputation… you’ve gotten your revenge, Rin.”

You gasped that last part out, releasing one fist to push into your stomach, grounding your pain with a physical one so that you wouldn’t lose your mind right this instance. “I meant nothing to you, r-right? So, you shouldn’t be here if I m-meant n-nothing to y-you.”

“Wait—”

He barely blurted out his next words when you swivelled on your axis and sprinted back to your car, leaving him alone on the cold sand to fend off his tears. His knees smarted when he stood back to his full height, hands jammed into his pockets to hide the tremble in his fingers as those agonised teal eyes watched your car disappear down the road, back to the safety of your family’s orchard. Back to your cocoon you had spun to hide yourself away from the world.

Away from him.

Rin dropped his eyes to the sand staining his dark wash jeans, methodically brushing back one grain after another, his mind humming a blank. He ignored the pain in favour of taking off his shoes and socks, rolling up the hem of his jeans to his calves and soaking his feet in the cold waves lapping around him. For a few seconds, he closed his eyes, immersed in the cold, fighting back the pain manifesting in his right temple.

He peeled open his eyes again, and realising that he had sunken in a few inches since he last stood at the edge, he reluctantly stepped back, picking his shoes and socks from near the stone bench and made his way towards the old, rented car. Driving away, he escaped with his metaphorical tail in between his legs, not noticing a lone figure scrutinising him at a lookout point just above the beach.

Dressed in dark jeans and a similar jacket to Rin, his signature auburn hair tucked under a baseball cap and a large pair of shades covering his eyes, Itoshi Sae watched his brother fall to his knees for the woman who once belonged to him.

He was positioned too far to hear the words you both exchanged, but he could guess the context when Rin refused to let you go, clinging onto you like how a scared child might to his mother about to leave out the door forever.

Sae admitted he didn’t feel a shred of satisfaction when you repeatedly turned away, only for Rin to grip onto your coat, your hands, and nearly catch your waist again when you finally evaded him and sprinted towards your car. He wasn’t a cruel bastard the world made him out to be, not when he had to fight off the ache to tug his little brother back from the seashore, eyes narrowed in scrutiny as Rin stood stock still at the ocean’s lip.

He waited, wondering if Rin would succumb to the same pit of misery that was exactly like the one in his chest and wade deeper into the churning sea. Sae mulled over the thought of whether he had it in him to pull his younger brother back from the edge.

But, the moment Rin walked back to his car, Sae released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

He grunted, hands tightening into fists when his otouto drove away, in the direction of your home; the same address Sae had painstakingly researched for till the early hours of morning.

Truth be told, Itoshi Sae had no idea what he was doing here.

He had abandoned his flight to Spain and chose a domestic one to this buttfuck town in the middle of nowhere, just for the slimmest hope of seeing you again.

Peak season was upon the football world, and his team had a match against Italy next week. In theory, he should be practising his drills until he collapses in exhaustion, not stalking the woman whose life he ruined with clandestine pictures of her affair with his own brother.

What is wrong with me?

Sae could never find the exact answer for that. So, he waited until the sky dipped under the horizon and the shutters of night started to close upon the corners of the world.

Only then did he turn back to his own car to drive in the opposite direction of Rin; back to his hotel to pack up and leave this shit town before his coach realised he was missing.

In just one afternoon, your entire world had turned upside down.

You should’ve known that when peace came with the realisation that life had at least managed to work out for you, your past would come knocking on your door, like a bloodhound sniffing out your deepest wounds.

And you absolutely had not expected to see Rin at all.

You could barely pay attention to your job, and the cash register felt more like a barricade hiding you from incoming fire than a counter you could seek a few hours of solace from. Counting spare change needed a calculator’s help, and you had nearly dropped an entire jar of expensive umeboshi if it wasn’t for Kenji’s quick reflexes in catching the heavy glass.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised to him, almost in tears. “I’m… I’m not right today.”

He didn’t have to ask you why, because the second you uttered those words, the shop bell rang shrilly, and Rin stepped into the tiny store.

Kenji straightened, staring at the other man in disbelief; wondering just what the hell an Itoshi brother was doing here in the middle of Minabe where he didn’t belong.

“You,” Kenji seethed, rolling up his sleeves. Somewhere behind him, you flinched and took a step back behind the still, as if bracing yourself for the worst.

In your mind, you imagined Rin’s tantrum, the words he would yell at you and the attention drawn, once again, to your luckless love life in choosing him over Sae.

But, you hadn’t expected Rin to stiffly bow at your brother, completely ignoring you as he mumbled, “I’m here to submit a job application. I saw you needed a staff member to help with menial tasks and I wanted to try my luck.” The sign tacked onto the front of the shop drew your eyes towards it, and you wondered how you hadn’t noticed it in the first place until Rin pointed it out. Bowing deeper, he ignored your soft gasp of bafflement, only focused on the one man who held the keys to his redemption.

Without waiting for Kenji to reply, Rin bulldozed on to sell himself.

“I’m strong. I have good stamina and my physique stands at 6 foot 3. I can help with rearranging jars and even with plum picking, if you would accept me.”

Whatever card your brother expected your ex-lover to play, it wasn’t this. He stood there, stupefied with his stocky shoulders slumped. For a split second, he glanced at you, and with a secret sibling code, he raised his eyebrows, as if to say—what’s going on?

Your reply was a quick, sharp shake of your head. I don’t know.

Rin waited while you both silently communicated, his intense teal stare never wavering from the dirty tiled floors.

It wasn’t your decision to reject or hire any potential employees, so your brother was the one to call the shots.

“What… why would you want this job?” Narrowing his eyes, Kenji spoke through gritted teeth when the obvious answer settled in. “If it’s just to play sweet by my sister, you can forget it. I’m never letting you get close to her.”

You noticed Rin’s heavy shoulders tensing and anticipated a sharp reply or the promise of a brawl. Not lowered eyes and an almost regretful expression.

“I wanted to atone for my mistakes and this was the only way I knew how. I want to help your family, L/N-san.”

It sounded strange to hear your ex-lover say your family name with such formality; it made you come to terms that he never held a perception of hierarchy when it came to you.

You were always Y/N to him, just like he was just Rin to you.

“Fuck off, Itoshi,” your brother retorted hotly, and he picked up a broom, as if the measly stick could ward off a seasoned football player who was physically in his prime. “Get out of here. You’re just trying to get back into my nee-chan’s good graces. You shouldn’t be here.”

Kenji’s words rang around the small shop. The air-conditioner gurgled and whined; there was no other sound in this tight bubble of tension than all of your heavy breathing.

Rin’s eyes met yours for the first time since this morning when you rejected him on the beach with desperation. They were filled to the brim with such sorrow you had never seen the egotistical striker carry; a weight curving the ends of his lips down.

“Can I at least speak to you before I leave? Please?” he added softly as an afterthought.

Kenji glanced at you, prepared to fight your battles. But, you shook your head and took a deep breath. This was a conversation you needed to have with Rin alone; there was only so much you could do before your past came back with a vengeance, pleading for you to resolve the suffocating emotions so everyone could move on freely.

Going around the still, you glanced back at Kenji with a tight smile. “Could we borrow the balcony for a bit?”

Your brother looked like he would rather swallow nails than let stay in the same room with this bastard for one more second. He debated for a split second, and only when you nodded again, did he give his consent.

“Fine.” Fishing in his overall’s pockets, he tossed you a single bronze key. To Rin, he fixed a glare. “If I hear one single complain from my nee-chan—”

“You have every right to beat me up,” he promised without prompting, catching both you and Kenji back with surprise. Rin’s conviction in his tone was what gave the slightest bit of confidence to Kenji that the pro-player wasn’t going to hurt you again once his back was turned. “I’ll take care of her,” Rin murmured softly, and the glimmer of gratitude on his lashline shouldn’t have made Kenji feel guilty, but it did. “You can trust me with that.”

His reassurance was a bit of an overkill, but it worked to ease your brother’s distaste. Kenji glanced at the ticking clock, and then back at your grim expression.

“Fifteen minutes. Anymore than that and I will personally throw you out of this store myself, Itoshi. You’re taking up my only employee’s precious time.”

“I promise I’ll make this quick.” Rin’s serious expression reflected your exasperation back. You loved your brother, but sometimes, he could be a bit of a hardhead with his threats.

“We’ll be down in a bit,” you reassured, and unlocked the door which led right to the very top floor. “Please help me man the counter?”

The corner of your brother’s lip twitched, but he didn’t deny your request, taking your place behind the still with his back turned from the door. Counting down the minutes and showing enough grace to give you both the privacy you needed without his prying eyes.

You shot him an appreciative look, and gestured at Rin to follow you. He kept a respectable distance from you, hands in his pockets and surly expression locked on the linoleum floor to watch his steps.

Bright sunlight battered down your head without mercy, and you shielded your eyes, staring out at the different tiled houses as far as your eye could see. In the distance was the beach where Rin had encountered you not even five hours ago, his knees digging into the sand, begging you for the forgiveness you could not give to him.

Now, he was back here, braving the storm of your family’s retribution and judgement to speak to you.

What did that say about his character and intentions?

If Rin really was guilty of the things he had done to you, he would’ve stayed away for the sake of his good conscience. But, here he was, looking at you like you hung the moon in the sky and the stars would disappear if he took his eyes off of you for a single second.

A cool breeze played with the ends of your hair, and it threw his bangs into a disarray. You almost reached forward and pushed them back, like you did the first time you had met Rin in his kitchen. But, like that very first time, you chickened out and kept your hands into fists by your side.

“Thank you for your willingness to listen,” he broke the silence, and your heart plummeted right into your stomach when the redness rimming his eyes came into your focus.

“Are you sleeping well?” you had no idea why you blurted out such a question. What Rin did in his spare time was none of your concern anymore. And yet… you couldn’t stop your curiosity on his wellbeing.

He blinked and briefly glanced down at his sneakers. “Um, no. A-are you?”

The question was meant to sound casually curious, but with Rin, nothing was ever casual. His intensity in hiding his true emotions was as palpable as your shaking hands. Neither of you could keep the truth from the other for too long, or play along with a game that had already decided the heartbroken loser.

You sighed, crossing your arms in front of your body, preferring to stare out at the sliver of calming blue in the distance than his haunted teal eyes.

“Rin—”

“I’m sorry.”

Just like that, with no fanfare of emotional blackmail. Itoshi Rin expressed his regret as eloquently as he could—with less words because he was a man of action. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around you and hold you right above his heartbeat.

Couldn’t you hear it from where you stood? It only thrummed the cadence of your name. You were written in his every breath from the second he saw you.

Rin needed you to forgive him because he may actually go insane if you refused to show him any grace.

His heartbeat was lodged right in his throat, and he stared at you with open want; wishing you would break the distance between the both of you and fall right back into his arms.

But, you had every right to be angry with him. He was the root cause that destroyed your life; the virus which encroached your every breath and poisoned how the world saw you.

Your reputation, your home and your job was all gone because of him. It would take a lifetime to atone for his mistakes, and Rin was ready to start now. He would lay himself right at your feet if you so much as asked him to. If you told him that you never wanted to see him again, he would fight to try and change your mind.

Rin would fight for you, tooth and nail, because that was what a striker did. They would go to the ends of the earth for a goal, and you were one of his biggest aspirations to return to.

The trophies and medals and worldly recognition didn’t matter.

All Itoshi Rin wanted was you in your pure entirety.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. I promise, I—” his breath caught, and the truth spilled from his willing lips onto your unwilling ears that burned with the shame of remembering everything he said before. “—I was stupid and careless with my words. You don’t mean ‘nothing’ to me. You… you mean a lot to… to me…”

He trailed off, the words right on the tip of his tongue.

You are my everything, Y/N. I love you.

It’s just three words. Rin was able to say it. He was able to share his entire soul with you if his mouth would just move.

Come on, you coward. Tell her what she deserves to hear. Tell her what you’re really feeling. Just tell her—

“I love… I love…”

Like the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders, those words which carried a Universe of meaning were about to fall like the heaviest stars onto your lap. For you to marvel at, for you to hold, or for you to reject—Rin wasn’t sure what you would do.

He never had a chance to tell you how he really felt before the scandal broke out, and he was paying the price for his big ego. He should’ve told you what you meant to him. He should’ve yelled out to the world how you made his heart sing and how you could make his stone cold soul come back to life with the promise of your new tomorrow.

There were a lot of things Rin should’ve done, and loving you was the only thing he should’ve done right.

You didn’t deserve the half-love he gave you or those harsh words which fractured your trust in him.

You had made him feel safe when he couldn’t even stay still in his own skin. You were the one person who dared to dig deeper past his cold facade to bring out the boyish side of him begging for love. You patiently mended his broken pieces with your constant patience. You made him feel reassured enough to expose the soft underbelly of his emotions.

You had carried his baby.

And what did he do?

He broke your heart. He made you feel like you never meant anything to him. He played a big part in destroying your entire life. He had caused you enough stress to lose the gift of love you both created together.

You had appeared in his life like a ray of light through fractured glass on an ice-cold surface. Slowly, you chipped apart his frosty demeanour, and for the first time in his life, Rin felt like he belonged somewhere. That he belonged with someone.

Rin had always felt like a stranger everywhere he went, and you were the first one to give him direction in his short life. He wasn’t nurtured by his own mother, barely tolerated by his own father and completely despised by his older brother.

There were a few people he could count on his fingers who actually cared for him, and you were always at the forefront of his mind whenever that question arose.

“Y/N,” the words he wanted to say came out as a hitched breath. “I love yo—”

“Rin, please,” your exhausted call of his name stopped him from spilling out those three words which he desperately hoped would change your mind.

The look on your face was nothing short of pure heartbreak. Even in your dreary uniform, you shone like the brightest star, refracting off his foolish hopes and dreams for a reconciliation when you were still hurting with every breath.

Rin knew this. He knew he had to give you time. But, his time here with you was limited; half of him wanted to let you know the words which burdened heavily on his soul before he had to wait to see you again—if he would ever see you again.

If you would ever allow him to see you again.

But, judging from your stance to your sombre expression, Rin sensed his chances were slim to none. The desperation clawed at his throat, resting somewhere underneath his ribcage and pulsing with only one sensation.

Hope.

Rin desperately hoped you would take him back. All he ever wanted was you.

But, you broke that hope with what you said next, and whether you knew it or not, you stole the last of his sanity when your words hit him like a truck.

“Everything we did… for you, it was revenge. But, for me… it was love.”

Your watery smile cracked into painful fragments, rivers of anguish carving down your cheeks. His entire chest exploded into stabs of pain. Questions and uncertainties bounced in his brain like a broken record: should he reach out for you? Kiss you? Beg for your forgiveness again?

“I loved you, Itoshi Rin,” you finished your soliloquy quietly, unaware of the storm you set off in his soul, his frozen body desperately stuck in its eye.

Say something you coward… change her mind… tell her you love her.

But, she loved me.

Loved. Not love.

Was he too late?

Those pesky words clogged the back of his throat, and no matter how much he wanted to spill them out, they wouldn’t budge. Remaining stuck there to rot while he had to watch you slip away from him for the third time in his life.

The smile you wore did not touch your glossy eyes, and you closed them momentarily, letting the sun burn behind your lids in this last enjoyment of the winter afternoon rays. You opened them to his red-rimmed eyes and quivering lips. You were going to devastate him again, he knew it, but he could not turn around and look away; could not peel his attention from the wreckage waiting to unfurl—your earth-wounding words that would shatter his hopes all over again.

“Even if you have broken my heart into pieces… I just want to say that… I would’ve loved to dance with you again in another lifetime.”

Loved. Not love.

You bowed your head, having unloaded all you needed to say and turned around for one final time.

Rin took one step back, reeling from the surety of your words that were set in stone.

Loved. Not love.

He really was too late.

As if an invisible timer signalled the end of this meeting, you bowed your head, trying your best to ignore the devastation imploding on every inch of his expression out of the corner of your eye.

“I should be going now, Rin,” you muttered softly. “I have to finish my shift… Please, get home safely.”

Home.

He watched as you gave him a parting, thin smile, and with your arms still wrapped around your torso, you descended down the stairs. Back to your new life and reality without him.

Rin closed his eyes, warding off the intrusive thoughts begging him to just grab you and hold you tight in the seam of his embrace so you would never leave him again. But, he recognized that if he did, you would hate him forever.

He needed to give you some space. And he needed to finally tell you what was haunting his mind and soul.

He needed to tell you what he truly felt or else the peace he was desperately seeking would never find him.

It was stupid, but Rin had to try.

And he wouldn’t stop trying until he could finally unburden the secrets of his soul.

Until he could finally tell you how much he loved you without stuttering over his words and keeping them hostage on his traitorous tongue.

I love you. I love you.

Why were those words so hard to say? What could make it easier when he knew with every fibre of his soul that they were true?

Maybe I have to show it to her instead of saying it.

And just like that, he conjured up a simple idea, one which would lead him right back to you.

But first, he had to win over your younger brother.

Rin was relentless in pursuing you.

He had another day left in Minabe before his reservation at this shitty ryokan was up and Ego-san would call for a nationwide search to find his best striker. His paltry pile of clothes were packed—reluctantly, he might add—into neat squares in the corner, ready for him to stuff into his suitcase. Implicitly, Rin knew what the outcome of this crazy idea would be, and if his hunch was proven right, he had to leave—and quickly.

He took a look at himself in the floor length mirror, tousling his limp bangs into a semblance of life. Deciding the angle in which they flopped was better than the last, he inhaled deeply and set out to find you once more.

Along the way, Rin stopped to buy a bouquet of flowers. They were pathetic at best—a few limp stems poking from the damp wrapping—but, he knew you loved pink lotuses. They were your favourite; he remembered how you couldn’t keep your eyes off them when the both of you walked past an arrangement perched prettily on a console table during that brief respite on a balcony in Hokkaido.

With flowers in hand, Rin put on his thickest face, prepared to trudge back into your little umeboshi shop and finally spill out the words lodging in the back of his throat ever since he first saw you in your ridiculously short miniskirt under the light of his mother’s kitchen.

But, when he disembarked from his car, he found the shop locked. Closed for the day.

One quick scan of the plaque hanging by the handle told him that Ume Sanka didn’t open on Tuesdays.

A lump of coal seemed to settle in the pits of his stomach. He swallowed hard, and doubled back, about to scour the beach for you, when he noticed a woman staring at him from across the street.

“Hello!” she called out to him, in a friendly way most villagers had. She waved him over, her rheumy eyes shining with delight.

“Oh, how handsome you are,” she cooed, and disregarding personal space, ruffled his hair.

“Hey—”

Rin snapped his mouth shut when she laughed throatily. “Are you looking for the L/N girl? You must be a suitor from Tokyo trying to win her back. Ah, the old hags at my Go club were wondering for days—why she came back home all of the sudden. Poor girl. She looked so sad—you must’ve been the one to break her heart.”

Though the older woman meant to joke, Rin couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt. Without a shred of his ego, he nodded.

“Do you know where I can find her?”

Even to this relative stranger, his desperation was palpable. The older woman chuckled, and lifting one bony finger, pointed down the road. “Her family owns an orchard. Nasty business it was. I’m old enough to remember—her father, what a bastard. He left her mother and moved to some town in the middle of nowhere. The poor woman—bless her heart—tried to keep it together for her family, but she also hightailed it out of here the moment her boy turned two. Only granny was left to take care of the both of them.”

Unaware of how this young man’s heart was leadened in both despair and grief for never knowing your story, she continued. “Eventually, the orchard was passed to the boy, and the girl—prettiest I’ve ever seen—went to the city to look for work. Honestly, everyone thought she would fail or come back home, belly swollen and heartbroken. But, she’s just fine. A little sad looking, but better than any of us expected.”

Rin clenched the flowers tighter in his grip, his heart rate tripling. “Thank you. For telling me—and for showing me where she is.” He bowed to this random kind angel, and the older woman looked absolutely delighted.

“Good luck finding her, young man. You look strong and sure. I think you could win her over.”

Rin sure hoped so, as well. Turning on his heel, he jogged down the cobblestone path, taking a left turn and finding himself in front of a fence. It was opened, and he pushed it slightly, stepping into plush greenery and tall, swaying plum trees. The air smelled ripe and sweet. Rin inhaled greedily, suddenly hyper aware of how this crisp scent was the same one lingering on your neck.

In the throes of his thoughts, he didn’t sense someone approaching him.

“You. Again.”

Rin never thought he would’ve been relieved to see your brother, but the second he heard Kenji’s voice, his shoulders sagged.

“Kenji-san. Is Y/N here?” Shamelessly, Rin looked at him eagerly. Kenji’s eyes fell on the bouquet in the other man’s grip. As much as he was debating if he should take this shovel and knock some common sense into this foolish athlete, Kenji hated to admit how much he admired Rin’s determination.

Wiping droplets of sweat from his brow, he placed the shovel down and shoved his gloved hands into his thick, windbreaker. “You’re never going to give up until you see her, are you?”

Rin had the decency to look sheepish. “I’ll be leaving for France soon. I really would like to see her again.”

Kenji’s expression was impassioned. “You’re going to get her hopes up. You should leave her alone if you know what’s good for you.”

But, Rin didn’t hear threats or ultimatums. He was only fixated on the goal of seeing you again.

“Please, Kenji-san.” Despite being younger than the striker, Kenji took one step back, thrown off by the sincerity in that honorific. “You will be doing me a huge favour if I could see her again. I would like to at least pass her these flowers.”

Kenji eyed the bouquet of lotuses again, remembering how you would hold a similar arrangement whenever you came back from the florist, all flushed and bright-eyed with satisfaction at your bargain. It was that single reminder of what happiness once looked like on your face which made Kenji reconsider.

“If she rejects you again, I have nothing more to say. She’s made her choice.”

It wasn’t a blessing, but it wasn’t a curse either. Kenji was merely stating the truth. With his heart in his throat, Rin nodded, and Kenji eventually let him go.

“She’s by the greenhouses. Just remember what I told you, Itoshi.”

Rin would never forget it; he would never forget your brother’s kindness in having this moment with you.

“I will,” he mumbled, teal eyes filled to the brim with hope. “Thank you… Kenji-san.”

The day was unusually cold.

Even a heat pack in your coat pockets couldn’t keep the numb chill from reaching your fingers, and you shivered, biting back on the urge to leave for the warm comforts of your home and abandon your idea of bathing Reina’s jizo in such conditions.

But, you preserved. If you were this cold, imagine what she must be feeling?

The woollen hat you knitted for her a month ago was placed lopsidedly on her dear, stony head. You chuckled a little, righting it when you sensed another presence behind you.

“Sorry, Kenji. I’m almost done, okay? I’ll help you rake up the roots later.”

Instead of your brother’s gruff tones, it was an unmistakable low rasp which sent a bolt of electricity down your spine.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the cold like this.”

You gingerly stood up, ignoring the burn in your thighs from crouching down for almost an hour. The tiny stone statue was hidden from her father’s sight, your hands clawing over the small pail. Frightfully, you wondered how he would react once he saw her—the hatred he must feel towards you for keeping her existence a secret till the very last dire minute.

Steadying your breathing, you exhaled, “How’d you find me?”

He was holding a bouquet of lotuses, you noted in shock. The pink blooms looked starkly out of place in an orchard starting to wither from the impending winter.

“Here.” With the grace of a little boy in church tasked to pass a lighted candle to a girl who always made him blush, Rin thrusted the bouquet underneath your nose. You set the pail down, taking it—unable to break the baffled silence.

The tips of his ears were red, and Rin shifted his gaze to the ground, struggling to find the right words. “I asked your brother. He told me you’d be here.” Summoning his courage, he looked you in the eye. “I meant what I asked yesterday—I want to help with your store. Take me on as an employee.”

You blinked. Your fingers were tingling, the cold settling into your bones. You wanted to stuff your hands into your coat pockets but they were curled around freezing stems. A part of you was unsure of where to look or how to best give light to the incredulity burning through your thoughts. “Don’t be silly. You have a career in football.”

“So?” he argued back, a furrow in his brow. “I would give it all up.” For you.

He didn’t add that last sentence. He didn’t have to.

You shifted from one foot to another. “No.” Your tired eyes met his, and you refused to be bowed by his determination. “Go home, Rin.” Exhausted, defeated. You wished he would leave you alone in your exile. Passing him the bouquet back, you softened your rejection with a frail, “Go home—go back to Tokyo.”

Rin had no choice but to take the flowers back with an uncertain look; his shoulders drooped, his eyes falling back to the ground. A loose leaf was shaken out of the arrangement, floating to the floor. He was silent for a few moments, before he said: “Come back to Tokyo.” With me.

Your heart squeezed. “And do what?” your whisper deepened the chasm between you two.

He swallowed. “Stay with me. I can get you a job. PXG needs more hands and you can start fresh and—”

“Rin,” your eyes welled with tears. “Stop. You know I don’t belong in Tokyo.” I don’t belong with you.

“Who said that?” he demanded, taking one step forward. “You belong there. You do.” You belong with me.

You shook your head, forcing a smile on your frozen lips. “I don’t,” your whisper sliced through his defiance, leaving him depleted of hope. “My life is here, with my brother and…” you hesitated, and his eyes flickered to the spot behind your calf.

He had noticed your biggest secret, his expression folding open in quiet disbelief.

It was useless to hide the truth, and you stepped aside, showing him the jizo statue of a little girl with a peaceful, smiling face and closed eyes. The pail of water and your nervous demeanour suddenly made sense.

“Is that…?”

His voice disappeared between incredulity and grief. Rin subconsciously took one step forward. You didn’t stop him and he took another until he was standing a foot away from you, absorbed in the tiny details of this stone statue believed to guide an unborn baby’s spirit and protect them in the afterlife. Assuming responsibility for the parents who had failed her in the real world.

The little cap you had made for her, the mittens that adorned her hands. Rin felt the lump in his throat thicken.

You were stricken with grief, nodding. Rin looked to you, and the anguish written on his face mirrored your own deep sorrow.

The both of you stared at the little stone statue—the baby girl conceived into the world betrayed by your own body and his deception.

Rin’s shoulders curved forward, as if to curl within his own self-hatred. Your haunted gaze touched the jizo, and you slowly got onto the ground, ignoring the cold to tuck your legs into a demure, side sitting position. Inviting him to join you with a simple nod. He sat next to you, cross-legged, fingers an inch away from your own.

Without looking to you for permission, Rin set the shunned bouquet right in front of her stony smile; all of his overwhelming love and your crippling regret with nowhere to go—except to a little girl who was painfully wanted by both her star-crossed parents only after she no longer existed.

You yearned to take his hand, hold it and reassure yourself that everything was okay. But, at the last second of your crumbling willpower, you shifted your hand further from his, rocking back.

Rin’s silence stretched on.

Above you, the trees rustled in the wind, branches clacking together. You began to shiver, and before you could protest, Rin’s arm came to wrap around you. Sharing his body heat together with you. Despite your reservations, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting yourself be weak in this instance and cave into his embrace.

No words were shared. Both of your breaths were stuttered, and you swore you felt a tear trickle into your hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know you don’t trust me, but I just want you to know… not a day goes by that I don’t regret everything.”

His watery eyes traced the statue’s serene face. You didn’t absolve him of his monstrosities, but neither did you want this moment to be over. So, you sighed brokenly and admitted the first thing that came into mind.

“I dream of her all the time, you know.”

His silence welcomed you to spill your sorrowful secrets into his waiting shoulder. “She’s always smiling. Laughing. She’s beautiful.”

Rin recalled the dream he had on the day where everything had gone wrong; of a little girl with sparkling teal eyes and an infectious giggle. He bowed his head forward, lips pressed into your hair. “I dreamt of her, too. Tiny. With my dark hair and eyes. And your smile.”

“Your eyes,” you echoed uselessly. “My smile.”

He kissed your temple again. “So beautiful.”

You fell into a thick disquiet. Rin rubbed your arm, giving you more of his heat.

“You should go back to Tokyo,” you started, squeezing your eyes shut and refusing to submit to the sobbing voice in the back of your mind begging for him to stay. “It’s where you belong.” When Rin didn’t say a single word, you continued. “Go to France. Win the World Cup. Be happy, Rin. Forget about everything that happened and start anew.”

Forget about me.

You didn’t add that last sentence. You didn’t have to.

“I don’t want to forget everything,” he began in a quiet voice, staring at the stone effigy of his lost daughter. “I don’t want to forget her.” Or, you.

“You won’t,” you replied simply, with more surety than he could’ve imagined. “She’s with us. Always.” Before you could stop yourself, you gently plucked one mitten from the statue’s hand and pressed it into his larger palm. “Take this. It’ll remind you of her.” And hopefully, me.

Rin shook his head, about to argue when you echoed an empty laugh. “I’ll make her a new one. I won’t leave her fingers cold—don’t worry.” This time, he couldn’t fight back the tears welling in his eyes, pressing the woven mit into his jacket pocket, wishing he could say something—anything—to change your mind.

But, he didn’t. He had said all he had to say.

Rin removed his arm and got back to his feet. Your face was hidden by your hair when you stood up, too. He scanned the area, looked back at the statue and then to you.

You were smiling, haunted and broken, but smiling, nonetheless. Even when you had suffered the most—even when you had left behind everything you held dear and lived a half-life in this tiny village. You still smiled, and for that, Itoshi Rin would never forgive himself.

“I’ll wait for you,” he blurted out. Your smile slipped and he hastened his words. “You need time, I understand. I can wait for a few years. Or, a year, if you want to speed things up.”

His lame attempt at a joke made you chuckle weakly. “Rin—”

“I’m not giving up on us,” he said quietly. Your wide eyes latched onto him, whether with fear or admiration, he did not know. “It will take a lot to get me to forget you, L/N Y/N. I hope you know that.”

He didn’t give you a chance to destroy his hopes. Rin walked away, head bent low and hands in his pockets, fiddling with the tiny mitten you had gifted him.

Rin tightened his grip on the piece of cloth. There were just some things a person can never push out of their mind no matter how hard they tried. It would linger in their memories, burying into their subconscious. Embedded in their every breath and thought. Like a comet.

You were a comet in his short life, brilliant and streaking his sky with every shade of colour, Rin feared that if he took his eyes off you, his life would go back to black and white.

The young man meant what he said.

He could never forget you.

Not ever in his lifetime.

#🦢 writes #itoshi rin #itoshi x reader #itoshi brothers #rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock angst #bllk rin #bllk angst #itoshi rin angst

488 notes · View notes