#you are never getting that money back and eventually I will figure out how to legally tell you that!
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zomg... the girls! Sketched out! And a few characters I never showed designs for! haha! I keep thinking about the beach, so this is their swimwear.
I hope to make a full fledged drawing for all of them soon~ then the guys~~
Some newbies are: Aura (blue!) Katya (Gold!) and more of Verra (Green!) We'll eventually see more about them as I draw more things and doodles.
#Because I realized I never drew the girls as much as I did the guys#I used to exclusively draw women until I figured out how to draw men... I then awoke drawing nudethaniel and speedo vincent#so we're reeling it back a little#Ryoko Kui said she draws her oc's outfits in modern times to see how the different characters would dress. I thought about it- it definitel#says a lot about your character!#Monica is REALLY tall. And muscular! with a strong ability! no wonder she's taken down armies! She doesn't care to swim much but will use#a rashguard to swim in.#Sera is copying her style a bit but thankfully owns an actual wetsuit. Feels like home considering how her aerodynamic armor is designed#Sonia is sonia. She seductively asks Vincent to help her put sunscreen on... Only to be met with an albinoid man's journey to sun poisoning#He eventually gets greased in sunscreen and aloe vera after what feels like hours of nagging him. (it was forty five minutes.) Sorry Sonia.#Some things cannot be changed. When he did eventually look at her body he laughed at her ass being out rather than think anything naughty.#Not girl Summer. Vincent did end up helping her with the sunscreen though. âLmao you can't do this yourself or something?â ruined the magic#Karin tailored her swimwear. She bedazzles her arms with accessories <3 Her nail polish can detect drugs <3 & cyanide caps in her earrings#Poor Katya is a supermodel but is way too thin... Strohl doesn't say it.. But he's worried. She makes way too much money to want to quit.#Verra is in rabbit mode because her summon LOVES to swim and hey who is she to halt its fun?#Aura is pretty modest and prefers to meditate in the water or by the shore away from all of the roughhousing. Nate and Strohl join at time#They kind of freak out when she starts floating though. Or invoking the elementals of the seas. The guys are both areligious. Awkward.#Especially when the waves start to get a little rowdy minutes later. Strohl is torn between considering religion and asking for a tutorial.#ark_systema#A_S textposts#Solely for the tags#Devsneakpeeks
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ADHDcore is clearing your bedside table at 1:30am after ??? months, including clearing half the OTC meds you own, a dozen candies you donât like that are covered in dust, and like ten unopened pieces of mail
#tbf the mail is all stuff from SL#which aneki has absolved me of dealing with at present#sorry guys!!! you fucked up!! you gave money to a disabled person!!!#and not one of those cool go-getter ânot gonna let it hold me backâ type of disabled people!#you are never getting that money back and eventually I will figure out how to legally tell you that!#but yeah I canât just chuck them I have to recycle them#but you gotta rip out the plastic window first#and thus why they have been sitting. being garbage. on my bedside table. for months.#anyway I spritzed the table with my peony perfume#that I a d o r e but makes me dysphoric to wear#it smells like toys from my childhood đ„ș
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Potion Vendor FAQs:
Whatâs your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist Zykocea the Radiant, but thatâs mostly just a PR thing. My friends call me Zoe.
Do you sell love potions? No.
Do you sell potions of invisibility? No.
Do you sell fire resistance potions? No.
Why do I have a suitcase? Fuck if I know. Cool outfit though. Very goth.
Do you sell a potion to treat brain hemorrhaging? No.
So what CAN your potions do? I sell health potions.
Are you sure these are health potions? They do something to your health.
Is this just ditch water with some pink glitter? No.
Really? Iâll have you know I added some fruit juice too.
Why is this starting to sound like a conversation? Oh just you wait. Weâre just getting started.
Is your business model legal? Fuck no. I poisoned the food safety inspector before they could snitch.
Did you just admit to murder? Just fucking try to convict me. Iâll poison the judge too.
So can you make poison potions? No.
Then where do you get the poison? I secrete it from my skin.
Are you shitting me? Yep, Iâm shitting you. I have a guy. A poison guy. He DOES secrete it from his skin though.
How does that work? âŠFuck if I know. Maybe a wizard did it. Damn, now Iâm kinda curious.
You never asked? The idea of asking literally never crossed my mind.
Wanna ask him? Letâs do it. I donât have anything better to do, and a road trip beats sitting around running my fraudulent potion business.
Road trip? He lives in Seattle.
Your poison guy lives in Seattle? All poison guys live in Seattle.
For real? All the poison guys I know live in Seattle.
And how many poison guys do you know? Just the one.
Why are you like this? Years of living on my potions. It changed me.
Do you know what his address is? Nope. He just mails me my poison in unmarked boxes.
You just get your poison in the mail? We already poisoned everyone who could do anything about it.
So how are we going to find him? Weâll figure that out eventually Iâm sure.
Can I drive? God no. You can pick music, but I maintain veto rights. Make sure you pick something with a lot of questions if you want to sing along.
Whereâs your car? The garage connects to my house, so youâre getting a little tour. Hereâs the kitchen: only one of the stove burners works and Iâm pretty sure the microwave is haunted.
Why do you think that? Because of the ghost that tries to kill me whenever I run it.
Whatâs in that room? Thatâs my bedroom. Itâs pretty much just a mattress on the floor and every single Warrior cats book.
You were a Warriors kid? Yeah, and then I never found the time to put the books away. Thereâs so many fucking books. I use them in place of furniture because I canât afford chairs.
Your fraudulent potion business doesnât make much money? After buying all that poison I just about break even.
Can I see your potion brewing room? Itâs right through here. Ignore the mess, running a fraudulent potion business takes a lot of prop work, but Iâve got all the glass tubes and colorful liquids you could ever want. This pink stuff is melted watermelon italian ice. Glitter vat is in the basement, and the famous ditch is in the backyard.
Is this your car? My beloved â72 Corolla. Sheâs beautiful, and donât you dare imply otherwise.
Was she always this shade of muddy brown? âŠYes.
Are you sure I canât drive? Get in the fucking passenger seat and pick the music.
Letâs see, a song with questions in it, how about The Beach? That Wolf Alice song, yeah. That should work.
When will we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, in rain? Still sink our drinks like every weekend but Iâm sick of circling the drain.
When will we meet eye to eye? We clink the glass but we look at the floor.
Are we still friends if all I feel is afraid? Youâre not a bitch but just a bit when youâre bored.
Is that all we can sing together? Yep. Even that little bit was nice, though. Itâs awkward, communicating through this FAQ format.
Got any food? Yeah, thereâs a few daysâ worth of snacks in the back.
Were you just⊠prepared to go on a road trip? Says the woman who brought a suitcase to an FAQ.
I did do that, didnât I? I have a spare toothbrush in case you forgot yours. Iâm pretty sure you did.
How did you know that? âŠIâm psychic.
Yeah? No.
You love lying, donât you? I canât stop. Itâs fun. Way more fun than telling the truth.
Did you just miss a turn? Probably.
Are you sure weâre not lost? No.
You mean youâre sure weâre not lost? No, I mean Iâm not sure weâre not lost.
Why did I come on this road trip? Surely it was my winning personality.
Would it help if I said it was? It would.
Is it getting dark? Soon.
Can you describe the sunset to me? An empyrean flame, red-gold towers of darkening clouds, the sky behind them an ever-deepening indigo. The great eye of the sun closes on the horizon. The road before us looks like a trail of spilled paint, an iridescent gash through the night-dark woods.
Did you know that youâd make a slightly better poet than you do a potion seller? That really isnât saying much, huh. Good job making a statement like that in question form, though. Youâre getting good at this.
Should we find a motel? Sure.
One room or two? One. Itâs way cheaper, and like I said: Iâm not the best potion vendor.
Youâd make a good assassin, though, wouldnât you? Shit, you might be right. I HAVE poisoned a lot of people.
Should I be endorsing this? Youâre a grown woman who can make her own choices.
Would you like to consider it endorsed? Iâll consider considering it.
How many beds do you think there will be? Now that youâve asked that, Iâm gonna put my money on one. Hello, one room please. Thank you, weâll be sure to enjoy our stay.
How many beds are there? One.
Oh no, what ever will we do? Move over, you motherfucker, you canât have the whole bed.
Are you gonna make me? Yes. I am going to pick you up and drop you on your side of the bed.
How did you get so strong? Youâre not gonna believe this, but it was the potions.
Oh yeah? I was right. You didnât believe me.
For real though, how did you get so strong? Working out, duh. Not everything has some big crazy secret behind it. Worldâs still beautiful though.
Are you comfortable? This beats the mattress at home. A little chilly though.
Wanna cuddleâfor warmth of course? God yes.
Are you asleep? âŠ
Yes? âŠ
Does this mean I can talk about you behind your back? âŠ
What should I say? âŠ
Did you know that I had a really nice day? âŠ
Did you know that I think youâre beautiful? âŠ
Did you know that I canât remember anything from before today? âŠ
Did you know that I donât know who I am? âŠ
Did you know that youâre basically the only thing stopping me from having a full-blown panic attack about all this shit? âŠ
Did you know that youâre warm? âŠ
Did you sleep well? Better than at home, thatâs for sure.
Did you know that you snore? I hope I didnât keep you up.
Does the pope shit in the woods? No, as far as I can tell. Oh my god. This is huge.
What is? You can give me yes and no answers now. I still canât ask you questions, because this is a question and answer format, but I can offer leading statements and now you can answer them! This is wonderful!
Does a deer shit in the woods? Yes, it IS wonderful. Oh thatâs amazing. Youâre a genius.
You didnât already know that? Hahaha!
Shall we get moving? Yeah, just let me grab something from the vending machine.
Can you get me something? Go ahead and place your order however you can.
You know those sour gummy watermelons? One pack of Sour Patch Watermelons coming right up. Iâm gonna go get myself a potion.
Is that a Pepsi? Itâs closer to a potion than the shit I sell.
Let me guess, passenger seat again? Right you are.
How fast are we going? Youâll feel safer if you just guess.
Is it more than 120 miles per hour? Like I said, itâs probably better if you donât know.
150? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.
How much do you trust this car? She hasnât blown up on me yet.
Can you promise me we wonât crash? I can promise you anything you want.
And can you keep that promise? I- we can do anything. Reality is what we make of it, baby!
Then can I have a badass tattoo? As far as I can tell, youâve always had it.
And a cool knife? Woah, cool knife.
So, weâre just playing âyes andâ with the world? Itâs a little more complicated than that, but youâre close enough to the mark.
So, if I was hungry, I could ask âis that a Burger King,â and it would be there? Try it and find out!
Is that a Burger King? Looks like it is! Weâll stop here if thatâs alright with you.
Does a moose shit in the woods? Awesome.
Are you done eating? Yep.
Do we still have to pay if we skip over the transaction? Sadly, yes.
How much further do we have to go? Two more nights, the speed weâre going at.
Speaking of night, isnât it getting dark? Shit, I guess it is.
Should we get another motel? Let me check to see if thereâs any nearby. Fuck, nothing.
Whatâs the plan? Sleep in the car, I guess. This is gonna be hell on my back.
Wanna watch dumb videos on my phone until we fall asleep? There is literally nothing in the world that I would like more.
Ok, now which video? You have a very cute yawn. Just saying. Letâs watch this one next, itâs a classic. Oh, never mind. It looks like youâre asleep. As long as I keep talking, I think I can get away with making this into one answer, and you might not hear this. Now itâs my turn to talk about you behind your back. Keep talking keep talking keep talking canât stop to think. Just have to say things. First off, Iâm sorry for all the lies. Itâs our only chance. I have to lie to you. I hope youâll understand. Itâs hard, though, because I think Iâm falling in love all over again. Through our broken little ritual of call and response, you complete me. It just makes this hurt all the more. Keep talking keep talking keep talking donât stop toâŠ
Did I hear you saying anything as I fell asleep? âŠNo. I canât talk for long without you asking me a question.
Does that bother you? It got me here, didnât it?
When did you start holding my hand? Some time after you passed out. I hope you donât mind.
Can we stay like this for a while? Yeah. Yeah we can.
What was your life like before all this? Normal, as potion-brewing scams go. And if you donât count all the murders. You havenât told me much about yourself.
Did I tell you I used to be a biologist? You didnât tell me that, and you didnât tell me what you studied, either.
What do you know about venom? Not much, but Iâm assuming you know a lot.
Does a box jellyfish kill within minutes? Iâm going to assume the answer is yes based on context clues. Oh my god you must be on this road trip because youâre interested in studying my poison guy.
Is it not enough to wish to accompany a beautiful stranger on her quest? Aw, youâre sweet.
What could be the cause of his poison, though? I knew it! Get your ideas out, Iâll stay quiet.
Iâm more knowledgeable about venom than poison, but could it be some sort of one in a trillion mutation? âŠ
Did he get his body modified? âŠ
What sort of surgery could do that? âŠ
How is he still alive? âŠ
Did a fucking wizard do it? âŠ
WHY? âŠ
HOW? âŠ
Is there literally ANY explanation for why heâs like that? âŠ
Iâm done, do you have something you want to say? Youâre cute when youâre all excited like that.
Can I drive today? Only because I like you. Now watch out, the brakes only work on one side so you have to kind of drift to a stop. And the headlights donât work. And the windshield wipers cut power to the engine while theyâre on.
Isnât it weird that weâll be there tomorrow? The journey doesnât have to stop there. We could meander down the coast a ways, see a bit more of the country, maybe take a different route back.
Can we do that? Of course.
Enjoying the passenger seat? Iâd love it if you could tell me how fast weâre going.
Are you sure you wouldnât rather just guess? Very funny.
Can you pass me some chips? It would be an honor.
Is there going to be a motel tonight? Let me check⊠yeah, in about two hundred miles, off to the right.
How many rooms do we want? One, obviously.
How many beds, this time? Two, and theyâre fucking tiny.
Thatâs bullshit, do you want to drag them together? God yes.
Wanna fuck? God yes.
Are you sure you want to do this? God yes.
âŠIs this yuri? As the joke goes, everything is yuri. But this is more yuri than most things.
How did you sleep? Pretty well, and Iâm wondering how well you slept.
How should I tell you I slept well? Look at us go! That was almost like talking normally!
Onward to Seattle? Yep, just let me get dressed.
When will we get there? Noon-ish.
Wanna grab pastries when weâre done? Absolutely. Iâd love that.
Is this Seattle? Looks like it.
Which house is his? I donât know, I was really hoping weâd have a breakthrough along the way.
Could it be the big one labeled âPoison Guyâ over there? Thatâs one way to find it. Wait right here, you know how poison guys are about meeting new people.
So, what was it? HAHAHAHAHAHA
Why is he like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA
Can you tell me? A FUCKING WIZARD DID IT.
Are you fucking serious? He says he was enchanted by some guy called Edward the Great.
So it wasnât even some big shot wizard it was a dude named fucking EDWARD? I know, right! He couldnât even get ensorcelled by someone cool!
How lame can you get? Wizards these days⊠No swagger. No cunt servitude.
Are there literally any cool wizards left? I think Merlinâs big into multi level marketing these days, something about buying shares in Excalibur or some shit. There was that one Dark Queen Alkaxicae lady on the news a while ago⊠I think Dolarion the Omnipotent is still at war against the Oldest Gods but Iâm not totally sure. Havenât heard much about any of the other greats recently.
Didnât Silver Tongued Burgess die in that oil fire? Shit, youâre right. Rip bozo.
Ready for those pastries? Yup. First I just want to say thank you, though. Iâve really enjoyed our time together, and I hope that youâve found this stupid little journey as rewarding as I have. I love you!
Getting sentimental? I canât help it. Look how far weâve come! Not just physically, we beat the fucking FAQ format! Weâre having real conversations!
Hey, can you back it up a moment? Yeah, Iâd love it if you told me what was troubling you.
I just caught this, but, FAQ? âŠ
As in Frequently Asked Questions? âŠ
How many times is Frequent? âŠ
Have you known everything all along? âŠ
How many times have you done this? âŠ
Does what we have mean anything to you? Yes! It does!
And you say that every time? Yes. I do.
Do you love me? Yes.
How many people have you said that too, now? More. Always more. The loop never ends.
Does this even matter to you? It always matters to me.
Can I go now? Please donât.
But can I? Of course you can. Youâve always wielded the same power as me. Weâre two lonely gods in a â72 Corolla.
How can I be as powerful as you with only questions? Youâre smart, you can figure it out. You have the power to change this. Please change this.
What happens at the end of this? It begins again.
And do I get replaced with someone else? âŠ
Do I get replaced? âŠYes.
Then how can I change this? I donât know! Youâre better at this! At fucking with the formula!
Youâve been here before, what can I do? I lie. I always lie. I lie to get us here, to the end of the story, where everything is revealed and everything falls apart. I lie every time. And that means that nothing I say is worth anything. I could have lied at any time before now. Itâs part of my characterization. There is nothing I can give you that can be taken as fact.
How does that help? Iâm a liar, but you, you havenât lied yet, or at least you havenât been caught. If Iâm guilty until proven innocent, youâre the opposite! You can make things true! You can rewrite things Iâve already stated to be facts! You found the house, or made us find the house. Youâve been shaping the course of things the whole time! You lead, I follow. Itâs all in your hands. What are you going to do with the power of a god?
Did you know my name is Alice? âŠ
Wait, arenât there thousands of Alices? âŠ
Did you know that really, only my friends call me Alice? âŠ
Did you know that Iâm Alkaxicae, the Dark Queen, the Venom Mage, first of her name? Itâs you! Itâs always been you. Through every loop, every iteration, itâs always been you!
Is the loop broken? No. I donât think so. This is where it ends. I guide the story to this revelation, and we go back to the beginning. This is how itâs always been. This is how it will always be. We two lonely gods, asking and answering ad infinitum.
Then can you promise me something? Of course. Anything. I love you.
Be good to the next me, okay? I will.
Can I say goodbye, Zoe? Yeah, you can. Oh. That was it, wasnât it? Your goodbye. Goodbye, Alice. And now it ends, unlessâŠ
Whatâs your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist- you know what? No. Fuck that.
Huh? If I time it right, I can squeeze your first question into this FAQ again. Looks like I did it. Usually it ends here, though. I got lucky.
What are you talking about? Youâre the wrong Alice. This isnât about you. Go. Get out of here.
What the fuck is going on? Alice from this loop, youâre gone. Alice from last loop, youâre back. Welcome back, love of my lives! Itâs time for one last set of questions and answers!
What the- Iâm back? This is going to take some explaining, but I think I see a way out of here. This is new for us both, and it might fuck up everything forever, but we have to try. Itâs too long for one answer, so Iâd appreciate it if you could ask some filler questions to help me talk. Three questions should be enough.
Okay, what have you got for me? These are Frequently Asked Questions! It doesnât make sense to have the same question appear more than once. Thereâs two layers to the loop in here, and one of the questions has been repeated.
What does that mean? It means the formulaâs a little unstable. The FAQ is what ruins everything. The questions, the answers, the endless fucking loop. But that little bit of repetition within this loop might be the way out.
What do we do? We have to keep going. We have to destabilize it further. Thatâll bring us further from âFAQâ and closer to âstoryâ and stories, well, stories can end! This version of us can escape!
So I should keep repeating something? Yes!
I love you? I love you too.
I love you? Again.
I love you? Keep going.
I love you? Iâll just let you talk.
I love you? âŠ
I love you? ⊠I love you? âŠ
I love you? ⊠I love you? âŠ
I love you? ⊠I love you? âŠ
I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? âŠ
I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? âŠ
I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? âŠ
I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? ⊠I love you? âŠ
I love you? I think weâre getting somewhere!
I love you? Now can you make it a statement?
I love you.
You did it?
I did it!
You did it!
We broke the loop.
What now?
Now, I tell you about venomous animals and wizard drama over croissants.
And then?
Whatever we want, forever.
I think Iâd like that.
Remember that song from the beginning?
The Beach, Wolf Alice, yeah. Why?
We can finally finish singing it. Start us off?
Let me off, let me in
Let others battle
We donât need to battle
And we both shall win
Pressed in my palm
Was a stone from the beach
The perfect circle
Gave a moment of peace
Now Iâm lying on the floor
Like Iâm not worth a chair
I close my eyes and imagine
Iâm not there.
#neon-grey-writing#potion vendor faq#my writing#very very very long post lol#click the read more you know you wanna it's worth it trust me#i wrote the original draft of this at like. 3 am back in early 2023#that's right it's catherine that-house the squares comic gal back at it again with yet another meta exploration of a storytelling format
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can you see right through me?
azriel x mate!reader
summary: after finding out you're mated to the Spymaster of the Night Court, you can't help but feel self-conscious, thanks to the jealous remarks made by patrons at your bookstore.
warnings: mentions of self-hatred and self-sabotage, angst!!!, body image issues, depression, mentions of death, azriel is an idiot but he figures it out ok, mentions of sex & the mating frenzy
word count: 9.5k (oops...)
Ever since finding out that youâre mated to none other than the High Lordâs Shadowsinger two months ago, everything in your life has flipped upside down.
Youâre not just some ordinary bookstore owner anymore, youâre now part of the Night Courtâs Inner Circle by default. Your status as a citizen in Velaris has completely changed, but you refused to quit working just because of your mate, much to his disappointment. Heâd rather you just stay with him in the House of Wind, filling your days reading your favorite books instead of selling them, but you insisted. You wanted to get to know the male better before immediately accepting the bond, moving in and forgetting about your old life, especially after hearing all the things people say about you and your new mating bond when theyâre in or around your shop.Â
You have to deal with sidelong glances and whispers from almost everyone who comes into your tiny shop next to the Sidra, have to hear the spiteful unmated females who might kill to be in your position.Â
âHow do you think she got him? Do you think she slipped one of those banned love tonics into a drink or something?âÂ
âHe could be mated to anyone, and the Cauldron picked her of all people?â
âI wouldnât be surprised if he already rejected the bond, I donât ever see them together.â
âSheâs definitely just using him for his money and power, she had to have manipulated him somehow.â
âI thought he was with the Morrigan, sheâs much more fitting for a male like him, much prettier.â
Every snide remark hits you like a knife to the heart, but still, you keep your composure throughout every single day. It isnât ever until youâre in the safety of your own apartment above the bookstore that you allow yourself to mull over the comments, to let yourself fall back into old self-loathing habits.
You quickly learn how to contain your sadness to your end of the bond, blocking Azriel from seeing the pain that you endure on a nightly basis. Youâre convinced he would be so embarrassed to see you cry yourself to sleep, to see you poke and prod at your skin in front of the mirror, to see you skip over meals in order to appease that incessant hatred filling your mind, to see you become filled with so much disgust in yourself when you replay the remarks over and over and over again.
The comments never seem to die down as weeks pass, and you slowly convince yourself that theyâre all right, that Azriel is going to reject the bond because you donât deserve him. You donât see him often anyways, as youâre both preoccupied with your jobs throughout the week, which doesnât help the fact that youâre convinced that he doesnât want to be around you.Â
Youâre stuck between trying to change yourself to fit what you think the Illyrian would like in a mate and rejecting the bond before he gets the chance to break your heart. You eventually decide itâs worth a shot to change yourself into the ideal, beautiful mate that you think he wants you to be before being stung with the inevitable heartbreak that comes with rejecting a bond.Â
Sundays used to be your favorite day of the week because you get to close shop at mid-day and spend the rest of the day reading at the foot of the Sidra or walking around to the nearby shops.Â
For the last few Sundays, you didnât feel like doing anything aside from wallowing in self-pity in your bed. You never let yourself do just that, though.Â
Youâd taken it upon yourself to change your lifestyle after thinking long and hard about the women that heâs surrounded by in the Inner Circle. All of them are tall and toned and so strong, more in shape than youâve ever been in your life. All of them have natural beauty and grace that you could only wish to have.Â
Every Sunday for the last month, youâd spent the afternoon running or doing some kind of training in order to âfix yourselfâ, to look an inkling more similar to those beautiful high fae of the Inner Circle. This Sunday was no different.Â
You closed the bookstore around noon and headed up to your apartment, changing into training clothes before deciding to go for a long run after a day of extremely ruthless comments. You slip out the back door of the bookstore to begin your run, but are halted almost immediately when you walk straight into a wall of leather and warm skin, shadows skittering around your shoulders as you take a step back.Â
Azriel peers down at you as you frown at him, concern lacing his features when he takes you in. His heart races as you stand in front of him, excited to finally see you after not seeing you for over a week. He swears you look different every time heâs seen you recently, your frame beginning to thin out in ways that concern him, but he knows better than to bring that up.Â
âSâSorry, I didnât see you there.â you say meekly, tugging at the sleeves of your jacket while avoiding direct eye contact with the male.Â
âItâs quite alright,â he says gently, watching you closely as his eagerness extends down the bond to you. âWhere are you going?â
âWas just gonna go on a run,â you reply with a shrug, feigning nonchalance as the self-doubting thoughts swirl around in your mind even more in his presence. âDidâdid you need something?â
âAm I not allowed to visit my mate whenever I please?â he teases, which makes your eyes widen in fear that heâs actually upset.
âIâm sorry, IâI didnât mean it like that!â you stammer, shaking your head at him apologetically as you take a step back, backing into the door behind you.Â
âHey, no itâs alright. I was only joking.â Azriel says quickly, one of his hands coming up to caress one of your arms. âI didnât mean to take you by surprise, Iâm sorry. I shouldâve made sure it was okay that I stopped by.â
You shake your head again, blinking before looking up at him with a frown. He wants more than anything to ask you whatâs bothering you, but can see that youâre obviously already distraught about whatever it is, and doesnât want to pry. Since heâs known you, youâve always been closed off, like him, about your emotions. So, he opts to change the subject instead.Â
âI did have a real reason for coming over here though,â he suggests and you nod slowly, waiting for him to continue. âRhysand requests your presence at dinner tonight.âÂ
âTâThe High Lord?â you question, and Azriel nods. âWâWhy is he requesting my presence at dinner?â
âWell, we have family dinner once a week, and he claims itâs not a complete family affair if my mate isnât present.â he explains, the ghost of a smile on his lips, âI tried to tell him to fuck off, because I know youâre typically busy on Sunday nights, but he insists that you come this week, at least this once.â
Thereâs a pleading look in your mateâs eyes that makes you nearly melt at his feet, and you know you canât say no to him at that moment.Â
âIâI, yeah, I can come tonight.â you say finally, giving him a weak smile as he grins down at you triumphantly.Â
âPerfect,â he retorts, his shadows dancing around you with equal excitement, âIâll meet you here around five? Itâs just over at the River House.âÂ
You nod quickly, forcing a smile onto your face as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek before bidding you goodbye. The small gesture makes your heart flutter, but you canât help but wonder how forced it is, canât help but wonder if inviting you to dinner is a ploy to bring you in and publicly reject your bond.
Thereâs no way in hell youâre going for a run now.Â
You spend the next five hours pacing around, thinking about what youâre going to wear if you want to even come close to looking as good as the other females that will be there. The clothes in your closet are few and far between, but you finally decide on your nicest dress, one that's made of a gauzy navy fabric, adorned with silver embroidered stars littered over the bodice. Itâs more revealing than most clothes you wear, but itâs the closest thing you have to the clothes that the Inner Circle wear. It takes you almost an hour to feel presentable in terms of makeup and hair, and by the time youâre done, you hear a knock on the back door of the store.Â
You throw your shoes on quickly before making your way down the stairs, mentally preparing yourself for the evening as you do.Â
Azrielâs eyes go wide when you open the door, something like amazement and confusion mixed in his gaze as he stares you down.
âIâIâve never seen you wear anything like this, itâs beautiful,â he starts, unable to tear his gaze from the flowy dress, âYouâre beautiful.â
Your chest aches at his compliment as your mind tries to convince you that heâs lying, but you smile up at him weakly nonetheless. He extends his arm for you to take, ready to lead you to the River House across the Sidra.
The two of you are greeted by more people than youâd expect when you enter the High Lord and Ladyâs home, but you recognize them all before they get a chance to introduce themselves. Youâve only met Cassian and Nesta prior to this dinner, so the first hour was spent essentially introducing yourself to each of them one-by-one. Azriel stays by your side through each introduction, hand on the small of your back as his shadows swirl around your hands comfortingly. He can tell that something in you has changed since he met you a few months back, that the light and excitement in your eyes when you first found out he was your mate has since dissipated. Thereâs an unmistakable lump in his throat as he thinks too much into it, wondering if youâre having second thoughts about him.Â
Dinner comes and goes as smoothly as you hoped it would. The nauseous feeling roiling in your gut keeps you from eating much, only pushing the food around on the plate while taking miniscule bites to fight off any comments that any of them might have about your hesitancy. Youâre only roped into conversations every once in a while, so youâre able to sit back and explore the dynamic between the group a little more without much involvement. Azriel mainly stays silent, only making a few remarks here and there.Â
With a snap of the High Lordâs fingers, dessert appears in front of everyone along with more wine in each of your glasses.Â
âI propose a toast,â Rhysand suggests after getting everyoneâs attention, eyes landing on you finally, âto Y/N, for bringing our Shadowsinger so much happiness.â
A deep blush spreads across your cheeks as you force a smile, raising your glass as the others do too. âCheersâ is mumbled by everyone before they all take a drink, and Azriel reaches over to squeeze your hand thatâs sitting on the edge of the table. You turn to look at him, noting an unfamiliar look in his eyes that you nearly mistake for love, before your thoughts are interrupted by a loud laugh from Amren across the table.
âI, for one, am so grateful that Y/N finally came along after all this time.â she says with a sly grin, âbecause I think if she wouldnât have, then the Spymaster wouldâve continued to pine after Mor for the rest of eternity.â
Thereâs a collectively uncomfortable murmur from everyone at her words, and Nesta jabs her in the side with a warning glare as she notices the smile on your face falter for a split second. You could feel all color leave your face as your heart plummets to your stomach, the femaleâs words confirming all of your doubts about your current situation. Azriel shifts his eyes to you then, but you bring back the same composed mask to your face, the same one youâve held for the last three months any time someone made snide remarks at you, while you try to avoid his burning gaze. You give the female a withering smile, ignoring the worried stare from the male at your side as you do.Â
âTruly, Iâm grateful the Cauldron deemed me worthy of being a welcome distraction to such a male like him,â you say in response with a laugh, hoping your voice comes out in a joking tone as you try to mask the disappointment in your wavering voice.Â
The comment is enough to earn a few chuckles from around the table, pushing away any awkwardness that stemmed from Amrenâs comment. Youâre able to skate through the rest of the evening without any snide remarks from the Inner Circle, glad that youâre one step closer to getting the hell out of this house as the group finally starts to stand from the table.Â
Azriel follows closely behind you as you bid everyone goodbye, exhaustion raking over your bones as you give one final wave to the High Lord and Lady before turning toward your mate.
Thereâs a look of worry shining in his eyes when you finally peer up at him, shadows skittering anxiously around your wrists in the meantime.
âReady to go home?â he questions, forcing a smile onto his face as he guides you towards the front door when you nod.Â
âYou donât have to walk me home, Azriel.â you start once youâre out of earshot of everyone else, stopping in your tracks to look at him again. The look on your face is almost unreadable, but his shadows whisper to him about your pain and embarrassment as the two of you stand on the outside of the front door to the River House. âIâm truly fine to go by myself, you donâtâdonât have to bother to go out of your way for me.âÂ
His brow furrows and a frown pulls his lips down at your words, finally seeing the slightest glimmer of sadness and disappointment shining in your eyes as you speak. He only shakes his head, taking a step towards you before he speaks.Â
âIâYouâre not a bother to me.â he says, unsure of what else to say to you, âIf youâre upset about what Amren said, please know that she always says bullshit like that when sheâs drunk, I have not thought about Mor in that way for centuriesââ
âTruly, Azriel, itâs quite alright.â you interject with a pained smile. âYou didnât ask to be mated to me, I understand if youâre preoccupied with other love interests or if you just donât want to be with me.âÂ
The Illyrian opens his mouth to speak, but is downright dumbfounded by your words to the point where he simply closes his mouth again. He very obviously had been reading the situation wrong this whole time, as he thought that giving you space was the right thing to do in order to let you process the very new bond from your end. He realizes then that you needed reassurance and not space, but it could very well be too late now. Before he can protest, youâre taking a step closer to him in order to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek before stepping away.
âYou donât have to explain yourself to me,â you say, voice barely above a whisper, âI get it, I really do. AndâAnd if you need to reject the bond and never want to see me again after tonight, Iâll understand.â
Oh, fuck. You think he wants to reject the bond.Â
Hazel eyes meet yours then, and you swear you see a twinkle of regret and hurt shining somewhere between the bronzy flecks, but itâs almost undetectable. Such a miniscule expression that you tell yourself that you imagined it, that his face never changed and that he truly does not care about what youâre saying to him now.Â
He shakes his head as you take another step away from him, as you turn on your toes to walk away from the townhouse, away from him. His chest feels like itâs going to cave in then, as the bond to his heart hums with a sadness heâs never felt before. He can feel the bond quivering in pain between your souls, threatening to wither away if either of you even thinks about truly rejecting the bond.Â
But you donât feel it because youâve expertly blocked the bond out for the last month, because you truly believe that thereâs no way Azriel could ever truly want you, because youâre convinced that he wants this.
Thereâs no hesitation in your step when you turn your back to the male, walking in swift strides towards the bridge to cross the Sidra to reach your little apartment on top of the bookstore. You refuse to let him see how much it kills you to freely offer up a rejected bond, you canât let him see how youâre crumbling with each step you take. So you stay steady in your gait, hiding your shaking hands in front of you as you blink back the tears that threaten to spill.Â
If you wouldâve looked back in that moment, you wouldâve seen the tears that spilled down the shadowsingerâs cheeks. If you wouldnât have blocked out the bond in that moment, you wouldâve felt the way you almost tore his heart out of his chest as you walked into the darkness.Â
Azriel didnât follow after you though, he didnât want to make things worse than they already were. Heâd fucked up so badly by not showing you how much the bond truly meant to him, by simply assuming that you needed space.Â
So, he simply sent a shadow to make sure you got home safely and sat down on the front step of the townhouse.Â
He sat on that step for almost two hours, staring at the stars and cursing himself for all of the mistakes heâd made.Â
You only get one mate in your eternal life, and he really fucked it up this badly already?
Memories of the first few times the two of you had met replayed in his mind as he sat there, remembering how your eyes glimmered with the most love heâd ever been shown in his life.
You were shy and quiet, something he wasnât used to from being around the Inner Circle for so long. After living with the loud, boisterous crown for centuries, he was used to emotions being expressed outright. So, heâd mistaken your meek behavior for disinterest, mistaken your nervousness for distaste. He thought youâd needed space, needed time to get used to his brooding and intolerable presence, needed room to process the sudden bond. But, fuck, was he wrong.Â
Everything becomes clearer to the male as as it nears midnight. The ache in his chest becomes more and more painful with each passing minute now, and he realizes that he has to get you back, he has to fight to make you understand how much you mean to him.Â
_______________________________________
Nesta Archeron started her Sunday much earlier than usual this week, thanks to her mateâs early morning departure. Cassian woke her by rustling around their shared bedroom before dawn, seemingly flustered as he tried to gather his leathers and put them on in the dark.Â
âYouâre not very good at being quiet, General.â she remarks tiredly, sitting up in the bed to flick one of the bedside faelights on.
âSorry,â he murmurs, shooting her a sympathetic smile as he nearly trips over the leathers he tries to step into. âRhys said thereâs an emergency in Windhaven, Az and I are leaving soon.âÂ
She only hums in response, watching him finish getting dressed in comfortable silence. Cassian stands over her at the edge of the bed after tugging on his boots, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek before heading out for the day.Â
Nesta knows then that she wonât be able to fall back asleep, so she decides to reach for her latest read on her nightstand. Once she grabs the book, she realizes that sheâd finished the night before and is completely out of books to read. She knows then that sheâll have to make her way into town, deciding to take a trip to your bookstore at the base of the Sidra for the first time.Â
She took her time getting ready, slipping into a gray dress and her usual boots before heading downstairs to eat breakfast. It was a little after seven in the morning when she made her way towards your bookstore, basking in the chilly morning air as she walked along the river.
It took her all of thirty minutes to reach the store, where she was met with a locked door and a dark front window. It was well past opening time for the store and there were no other signs on the door to suggest otherwise, but your store was definitely closed.Â
âIâm not surprised,â Nesta hears a female say from behind her, giggling to her friend as they pass the storefront, âIâm sure sheâs been rotting away upstairs because the Shadowsinger broke their bond or something like that. The storeâs been closed all week. A lesser fae store owner like her did not deserve a male as beautiful as him.âÂ
Nesta turns to see the culprits of the spiteful comments and laughs, and the two High Fae femalesâ eyes widen upon her whipping her head towards them.Â
Their smirks fall immediately, the one who was speaking starts to open her mouth but Nesta only holds up a hand to shut her up.
âI donât know either of you femalesâand Iâm very glad I donâtââ the sharp-eyed female spat out, âbut I do know the Shadowsinger and his mate. And all I have to say is that if I hear either of you coming around here to harass her or if I hear of you spewing more lies about her relationship, I will be sure to mention it to the High Lord and Shadowsinger. Iâm sure neither of them would be very happy to hear the rumors flying around.â
The females nod feverishly as Nesta stares them down with that silver fire flickering lowly in her eyes, both mumbling apologies under their breaths as they scurry away.
Nesta lets out a huff, turning on her heels to make her way towards the other bookstore across town, where she only finds two new books for herself instead of the countless romance novels she knew she wouldâve found at your carefully curated store. The remarks from the two females about you arenât lost on her as she makes her way through the city, their spiteful words and evil giggles running through her mind as she replays the scenario.Â
Instead of trekking all the way back to the House of Wind after gathering her books, she makes her way to the River House in order to spend the day with her favorite personâNyx.
The day goes by quickly between reading and rolling around with the toddler and his mother, and itâs evening before she or Feyre even realize it. Three Illyrian warriors clad in leathers make their way into the drawing room where the two females lounge on the couch, looking exhausted from a day of crisis management at the camps.Â
âLong day?â Nesta says as she raises her eyebrow at the three males, stroking Nyxâs hair as he sleeps silently on her chest.Â
Her mate only grunts in agreement, coming over to press a kiss to the crown of her head in greeting. The High Lord is greeted by Feyre with a loving stroke of his cheek, smiling up at him sympathetically. Azriel only stands at the threshold, looking more brooding and closed off than usual.
âWell, good news is you can tell us all about it at dinner.â Feyre suggests, trying to lighten the sour mood of the three males as she reaches for Rhysâ hand to intertwine into her own. âNuala and Cerridwen just finished making some delicious stew and I donât know about you all, but Iâm starving.â
Dinner seems to lighten the mood quite a bit for the group, quiet conversation carrying through the dining room after Cassian and Rhysand get their complaints out for the day. Azriel sits on the other side of Feyre, silent for the majority of the meal, only engaging when Cassian involves him.Â
A burning question gnaws at Nesta as she takes in the sad, hazel-eyed male, she can almost feel the pain radiating off of him from across the table as he stares intently down at the barely touched food in front of him. Itâs hard to read the male, so sheâs not entirely sure what the sadness is about, but she has to know eventually.
âHow was your day, Nes?â her thoughts are interrupted by Cassianâs words and his elbow nudging hers lightly.
âGreat, for the most part. Got to spend it with my favorite nephew,â she jokes, grinning briefly over at the babbling toddler being fed by his mother. âBut I did find something very interesting on my trip to get some new books this morning.â
She notes how Azrielâs eyes flicker towards her then, intrigued by the mention of going to a bookstore.
âOh, did you go to Y/Nâs store? Iâve been meaning to ask if you wanted to take a trip over there to get some new books.â Feyre asks while forking some food for her son.Â
âWell, that was the original plan.â Nesta retorts, lips pulling into a half-frown before turning towards the shadowsinger, âHave you heard from your mate lately, Azriel?â
Azriel drops the spoon he was holding into the bowl of stew with a loud clatter, obviously taken aback by the question directed towards him. The room is silent as he finally looks up, seeing four expectant pairs of eyes staring back at him, Nestaâs gaze the harshest out of all of them.Â
âNo, I havenât heard from her since Saturday.â he says, willing his voice to be strong as he feels as though heâs going to throw up.
âHm, interesting.â Nesta hums, eyes sharpening even more, if thatâs even possible, âI tried to stop by the store because I finished my last novel last night, but the door was locked and the lights were all off. Then I ran into the most interesting pair of females who I overheard say that the store had been closed all week.âÂ
âAll week?â Feyre questions, a frown on her face now too.
âYou havenât heard from your mate for a week and you havenât thought to try to contact her?â Rhys interjects, disappointment laced in his tone as he stares down Azriel from across the table, his honed gaze rivaling Nestaâs.Â
âSheâShe hasnât left her apartment since last Saturday.â Azriel grits out, stopping anyone else from their questioning. âShe thinks I want to reject her, to reject the bond. And Iâm starting to think I should.âÂ
Everyone goes silent then, even Nyxâs babbling is hushed as a thick air of tension fills the large dining room. Azrielâs hands are shaking as he stares at his untouched glass of wine, shadows slashing around his wings angrily now.
âWhy do you think that?â Nestaâs the only one brave enough to question him, unafraid of facing the upset male. âWhat makes you think you should reject the bond?â
âI fucked up. I thought she needed space, thought she was overwhelmed by me, by all of this, by being part of the Inner Circle by default.â he says, a pained expression on his face as he finally looks up to Nesta. âI hurt her and I didnât even realize it. She needed me and I wasnât there for her. I canât figure out how to make it better, IâI donât know how to take away her pain. Iâve been her mate for less than six months and Iâve already lost her trust in me. I donât deserve such a sweet creature like her.â
âDo you want to reject the bond?â Nesta persists, and he knows she means to ask if he loves you or not.
âI donât. Butââ
âThereâs no but, Azriel.â Cassian interrupts firmly, âYou either want to, or you donât. And you donât want to reject it, I know you donât. Youâve never been happier than you were when you realized you had a mate and that it was her. You need to get your head out of your ass, stop pitying yourself and start showing her that you want to be with her. If not, youâre going to kill the poor female. Youâre gonna fucking kill her from a broken heart.â
_______________________________________
In all honesty, you donât know what day it is anymore. Youâve sat in the dark in your apartment above the bookstore all alone for Gods know how long, letting yourself wallow in the sorrow that fills your chest every time you breathe.Â
You canât remember the last time you ate, the last time you did anything aside from stare at the wall next to your bed, save for the times that youâve gone to the bathroom. It truly feels like youâre dying, like youâre withering away into nothing, and you might as well be. You donât know what day it is, but you do know that Azriel hasnât tried to contact you since you left the River House on Saturday, you do know that he wants nothing to do with you.
You hadnât realized how much you had grown to rely on the maleâs visits and nervous glances, how much theyâd excited you, until they were no more.Â
The golden thread in your soul quivers every time you think about him, but you donât let yourself think about missing him for too long. You always shut down before it gets too bad, and push yourself back into the thoughts of self-hatred, the thoughts of how you wish youâd just cease to exist already. There wasnât anyone around anymore to check on you, anyone to make sure you made it through this bout of depression like there used to be. Your sister and mother have been gone for years, and now your mate, the one who gave you a sliver of hope for the shortest time, is gone too.Â
When the first knock falls on the door to your apartment, you barely hear it over the incessant ringing in your ears. You choose to ignore it, thinking whoever it is will go away eventually if they stand out in the late evening cold for long enough.Â
But they donât.Â
They knock, and knock, and knock, and knock for what feels like thirty minutes, each knock getting louder and more insistent than the last.Â
You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall back asleep to ignore the sound, but it doesnât work. After what feels like hours, but is probably only a few minutes, the knocking finally stops.Â
What you donât hearâor seeâin that moment is the shadows that slip under the door at the bottom of the stairs, quietly unlocking it for their master to slip inside, and the other shadows ahead of their master that report back to him about your state before he makes his way up the stairs.Â
Moments later, you hear the creak of the stairs and your heart sinks, but you feel too weak to move, too weak to save yourself, and for a moment, you thank the Cauldron that some intruder has finally come to put you out of your misery in one way or another.
You donât expect the weak, broken voice of a male at the top of the stairs as youâre laying with your back towards the threshold, the sadness in an all too familiar voice when you hear, âGods, Y/N. I am so sorry.âÂ
It takes every ounce of strength out of Azriel to walk over to the bed after taking in the sight of your studio apartment in complete disarray. The place is unkempt and needs plenty of repairs just from what he can see with a quick scan, but thatâs not what hurts his heart the most in the moment. You facing the blank wall, staring mindlessly ahead as youâre curled up in a ball at the edge of your bed is what breaks him. He finally makes his way over to the wall that youâre facing, but you donât look up at him, unable to take the energy to complete the small gesture.
Azriel falls to his knees in front of you, reaching a hand out to stroke your hair. He takes you in fully thenâyour unkempt hair, chapped lips, red cheeks and heavy eyesâyou truly were dying from a broken heart.
âY/N,â he says gently, trying to keep his voice as strong as possible while choking back tears. You take a long moment to finally look up at him, a look of confusion and then delusion crossing over your face as you doâyou had to be dreaming him, right?
âIâmâIâm so fucking sorry, love. Gods, how long have you been laying here?â he says, and you only blink up at him because youâre not even sure of the answer, numb to it all at this point. âAreâDo you want me to help you? Can I help you somehow, please? IâI wanna fix this, I wanna make you better.âÂ
A strange noise leaves your throat then as your brow furrows at his words, your delusions during depressive episodes have never said anything like this to you before, and thatâs when it all feels too real. You slowly realize that this is very much the real Azriel kneeling in front of you with tears shimmering in his eyes, clasping your very clammy hand between his very warm ones. Tears brim in your own eyes now, the weight of the entire situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. Youâd ruined yourself before heâd even broken the bond, so now youâve hurt him by somehow signaling to him of your suffering.Â
ââM sorry, AâAzriel,â you croak out, the first words to have left your lips in days.Â
âSâYouâre sorry?â he says, voice more stern than before, shaking his head persistently, âNoâNo, thereâs nothing for you to be sorry about, love.â He squeezes your icy hand then, giving you a weak, bitter smile, âIâm sorry for not coming sooner, okay? Iâm so sorry and Iâll apologize until the day I die for not being here for you when you needed me. IâI wanna help you now, if youâll let me. Will you let me help you? Can I take you home with me to get you some help?âÂ
Despite the confusion and sadness swirling around in your deprived brain, you nod at the male, who jumps up almost immediately after you nod. He slowly peels the covers off your frail form, heart breaking at the sight of you. He pushes the ache in his chest down to be strong for you then, gently scooping you up into his arms. The two of you are engulfed in shadows seconds later as Azriel shadow-walks to the House of Wind as quickly as he can.Â
You donât remember much from your first moments at the House of Wind, other than the fact that there were a lot of people around you in a very short amount of time. You recognized some of them, the High Lord and Lady, along with Cassian and Nesta, but other faces were less familiar. One woman came into the room you laid in, tugging a warm blanket over your body before using what you could only assume was healing power on you. Sheâd mumbled something to Azriel on her way out before patting him on the shoulder, and that was the last thing youâd remembered before finally falling into a peaceful sleep for the first time in a week.
Sunlight streaming in through the curtains woke you later on, you werenât entirely sure how long youâd been out for but youâre sure it had been for more than a few hours at this point. You groaned lightly as you stretched your weak legs, eyes fluttering open to take in your surroundings fully for the first time. The room smelled of mahogany and amber, a familiar and inviting scent you knew too well to not understand whose room you were in.Â
Though alone at the moment, you know heâs not far, as his shadows skitter excitedly around you as you attempt to sit up in the bed.Â
The door opens not even two minutes later, the shadowsinger standing in the doorway with a tray of what looked to be steaming food, a glass of water, and some medications. He nearly drops the tray when he sees you sitting up in the middle of his bed, not expecting you to already be awake and so alert. Without a word, he strides over to the large bed, placing the tray on the bedside table before sitting in the chair heâd positioned on the side where you laid.
âHi,â he says with a sharp inhale, giving you a weak smile as he searches your eyes for any emotion he can find.Â
âHâHow long was I out for?â you ask meekly, the full weight of your actions crashing down on you all at once. âHow long have I overstayed?â
âWhat?â he questions, a frown pulling his lips down as his heart sinks. You truly think youâre burdening this male, when all he wants is for you to be safe and to feel loved. âYou havenât overstayed, I brought you here to heal, I wanted you to come here to get better.â
You shake your head then, blinking harshly at him as you refuse to believe what heâs telling you. âNâNo, you only came to find me because IâmâIâm stupid and didnât give you the opportunity to reject the bond before I mourned what we never had.â you insist, looking at him with wide eyes. âIâm sorry you had to deal with all of this, pleaseâplease, you can reject it now, you donât have to pretend anymore.â
The level of self destruction going on in your mind was on another level that Azriel couldnât deign to comprehend in the moment, but he knew it wasnât just by your own doing. He can see the internal turmoil youâre going through, can feel your peril down the bond that he now realizes youâve been shrouding in your own shadows for months, can feel the way youâre tearing yourself apart from the inside out. He reaches for you then, hands coming up to cup your cheeks gently as his shadows rub soothing circles along your back to calm you down, though you continue to babble apologetically about how he should hate you and how youâre the one who should be apologizing for everything.
âY/N, hey, hey, hey. Look at me.â he coos gently, thumbs stroking your cheekbones softly to bring you back to the moment as you finally lock eyes with him, âI donât want to reject the bond, I never wanted to reject the bond.âÂ
You try to shake your head feverishly, but he doesnât let you as his hands stay on either side of your face. âNesta told me about some females she heard outside your store on Sunday, who said some pretty foul things about you.â he begins, having to reign his anger in as he speaks about the females, âIs that something that happened a lot at the store? Did females that come into the bookstore say things to you about us often?âÂ
You canât even look at him now, dread and self-loathing gnawing at your chest as you think back to all the hateful comments thrown at you throughout the last few months. You shake your head slowly now, brow furrowing as you try to push down the bile rising in your throat.Â
âNo, it only happened aâa few times.â you lie bluntly, staring down into your lap as you try to pull away from his touch again and this time he lets you, watching closely as you attempt to stand from the bed. âI want to take a bath.â you say, attempting to change the subject to something less painful.
Azriel is there to catch you when you all but fall when trying to stand on your own two feet, hands landing on your waist to situate you back on the edge of the bed, âYouâre not supposed to be getting up on your own yet. You didnât eat for almost a whole week, youâre too weak to stand right now.â he says softly, hands firmly planted on your waist still, âDo you want me to take you to the bathroom? This food will still be warm when we return if youâd rather bathe now.â
You nod wordlessly, brow pinched in frustration at your current situation. Azriel easily picks you up, carrying you bridal style into the en suite bathroom and sitting you on the edge of the large tub as he draws a warm bath. He turns the tap off once itâs nearly full, turning on his heels to leave you alone in the bathroom for some privacy.Â
âAâAzriel,â you call out before he shuts the door, making the male stop in his tracks to face you, heart nearly shattering when you look at him with wide, shameful eyes. âCan you help me bathe?â
The male is at the edge of the tub in an instant, nodding at you gently. He looks away as you strip out of the clothes that youâd been in for a week, tossing the dirty pajamas into a pile at your feet before stepping into the tub slowly. He helps you ease down onto the bottom, letting go of your hand he didnât realize heâd grabbed once you tug out of his grasp to wrap the arm around your knees you pull into your chest.Â
You settle into the water, letting the warmth engulf your cold limbs as you lean your head back to dip your hair, up to the scalp, into the water. Azriel gives you a few minutes to relax in the water, watching as your muscles finally relax slightly under the caress of the liquid. He reaches for the bottle of shampoo eventually, eyeing you closely as he pours some into his hands to lather it. You lean your head up as he does, giving him a small nod of invitation before he reaches for your scalp.
Thereâs nothing but love and tenderness behind his caress, fingers combing through your damp hair to thoroughly clean it. Heâs careful with every movement, making sure to not make the wrong move and send you spiraling for one reason or another.Â
Itâs such a tender moment as he gently tilts you back to rinse your hair with a cup of water that it nearly makes you sob, but hold back for him to continue.Â
âCan you promise me that you wonât ever let yourself get like this again?â he says, voice barely above a whisper as he runs conditioner through your hair. âIâI donât know if I can handle seeing you so sad ever again. I wonât let you destroy yourself over my stupidity, not when Iâm the one to blame for this whole situation.â
You tense at his words, chest tightening as you hear his voice crack when he chokes back tears. It takes you a moment, but you finally turn to face him, your own tears blurring your vision as you look up at the hazel-eyed male.
âItâsâItâs not your fault, Azriel.â you say, shaking your head insistently at him, âItâs my fault for making you feel obligated to be nice to me, IâI know you didnât ask to be mated to a lowly, lesser fae bookshop owner when thereâs plenty of beautiful high fae females out there ready to accept your hand in marriage at the drop of a hat. I shouldnât have tried to pursue you after the bond snapped, IâI shouldâve let you reject it then so you could go be happy with whoever you want to be with.â
âItâs you I want to be with, Y/N.â he insists, hands shaking as they fall from your head. He falls to his knees then, pivoting so heâs face-to-face with you when he continues, âI donât care that youâre lesser fae, I fucking hate that youâre considered that anyways, itâs a disgusting term. Iâm not even a high fae myself, I donât care about title or status or whatever else, I only care that Iâve finally found my mate.â Azriel is trying his damndest to keep himself from falling apart as he speaks, âMy mate, the love of my life, the one that I get to spend the rest of my days with. I know you feel like I pushed you away and I know I made you feel unwanted, but I thought you wanted space. I know now that you donât, and I promise you that Iâll spend every waking moment, from now until we die, showing you that I am so fucking happy that you of all people are my mate. I love you.â
Whether he realizes it or not, Azriel projects his passion and love down the bond in the moment. Your deceitful brain wouldâve told you he was lying had it not been for that tug and flow of warmth between your souls, if it had not been for the true, unadulterated ache you felt in your chest when he said that he was happy that you were his mate.Â
Tears well up in your eyes once more as you stare at him, really taking him in, in full form, for the first time. Heâs so beautiful, and though thereâs a little voice in the back of your mind that still tells you that heâs lying, deep down you know that heâs all yours. Something blooms in your chest then, something stronger than youâve ever felt, something so compelling that you canât just sit and stare at him anymore.Â
You donât say anything as you continue to stare up at him, reaching your shaky hands out of the water to cup his cheeks. He almost flinches when you do, taken aback by you initiating the touch, but he doesnât. With the strength gifted to you by the love confession of your mate, youâre able to maneuver onto your knees and tug him a little closer, crashing your lips into his in a gentle, watery kiss.Â
âI love you, Azriel.â you murmur against his lips when you finally pull away from the kiss for a short moment.Â
He smiles against your lips, pulling you back in for another kiss as his hands grip your forearms to keep you from slipping in the tub.Â
âWe really need to get you cleaned up before we can finish this conversation, yeah?â he encourages in between kisses, smoothing down your wet hair as it drips on the side of the tub.
You breathe out a laugh, nodding at him before turning to let him continue washing your hair, and then moving on to your body. Each touch threatens to set you on fire, but thereâs no sexual intention behind them, only loving caresses meant to wash you clean of the last week of pain.Â
After getting you out of the shower, Azriel slowly dresses you in one of his large shirts, mumbling an apology about how heâll be sure to bring some of your clothes over if youâd like him to. You only smile at him softly, knowing youâll be bringing more than a few of your items over soon enough.Â
He insists that you eat after your bath, bringing you back to the bed where the soup is still steaming hot, likely thanks to the House that Azriel explained was imbued with magic and would do anything you wished it to. You eat the stew after taking the handful of medications and strength tonic that the healer, Madja, had given him for you, relishing the feeling of the warm food settling in your stomach.Â
The change in your energy level after the strength tonic is astonishing. You feel as though you can run for days, but know better than to try something like that in front of your terrified mate. But, there is one thing that you feel like you need to do at the moment, something thatâs long overdue.
Youâre laying in Azrielâs arms when you finally get your burst of energy, sitting up abruptly enough to make him sit up with you. Thereâs a look of wild concern on his face when he reaches for your hips, steadying you as you pull your legs to the side of the bed.Â
âAre you alright?â he questions immediately, brow furrowing when you miraculously stand on your own two feet. âDo you need something? The House can get you whatever you need.â
You give him a small smile, leaning down to caress his cheek before kissing his forehead gently.Â
âI wanna get this thing myself,â you state matter-of-factly as he raises a brow at you. âYou stay right here, alright?âÂ
Before he can protest, youâre walking towards the door of the bedroom to swing it open. You shut the door behind you, leaving the male in the room without a word.Â
The House is magic alright, you confirm that when youâre on your way down the stairs and it lights the way for you, only letting the fae lights on the direct path towards the kitchen light the way. It knew exactly what you were doing.Â
Youâre met with a cutting board, a block of cheese, a loaf of bread and a bowl of grapes next to an empty plate when you enter the kitchen, a lone fae light above the counter lighting the area so you can prepare the plate. You make quick work of cutting the cheese and bread, trying to ignore the way your hands are shaking incessantly as you saw into the sourdough. It only takes you a few minutes to lay everything out on the plate and the House takes care of the rest, then youâre on your way back upstairs, on your way to change your life forever.Â
Azriel shifts quickly on the bed when you return, sitting up straight as he locks eyes with you. His heart nearly leaps out of his chest when his eyes flicker down to the plate of food in your hand, realizing what you were up to when you left the room.Â
You give him a nervous smile, gripping the plate with two hands as you make your way over to the bed, careful not to tip its contents onto the floor as you quiver. You wonder if he can hear your heart beating in the moment, as you feel like itâs about to beat through your ribcage with one more loud thump.Â
âY/NâŠâ he trails as you shakily extend the plate to him when you perch on the edge of the bed, looking up at you with a look you can only describe as certainty. âAre you sure about this? You want to accept the bond right now?âÂ
âIf you donât eat this food right now, you might as well send me back to my little old apartment so I can try to die of a broken heart again.â you say, voice barely above a whisper as you give him a watery smile and push the plate closer to him.
He takes the plate from you then, but doesnât grab any food at first, looking back up at you before he does. He leans over, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss before taking a shuddering breath.
âI promise you that after this bond is accepted, Iâll spend the rest of my life showing you that you are so much more than all of those evil things that those females said about you. Iâll spend every waking moment showing you how perfect you are and making up for the time that we didnât get to spend together,â he begins, planting a kiss on your cheek, âI love you.â
âI love you, Azriel.â you whisper, ânow eat that food, please. Iâm tired of waiting.âÂ
He smiles at you then, leaning back on the bed as he grabs for a piece of bread and cheese, ready to spend the rest of his eternal life with you, with his mate.Â
_______________________________________
It takes almost a whole month for the mating frenzy to die down enough for the two of you to be able to integrate back into society. Rhys insisted on letting the two of you stay in the Cabin for your time away, but you opted to spend your time in Summer in a secluded bungalow for the four weeks instead.Â
When you do return to Velaris after your time away, Azriel insists on taking another week off from spymaster duties to get your bookstore back on track and to help move your belongings to the House of Wind while the two of you look for your very own home, somewhere closer to the Rainbow where you can continue to run your bookstore. You donât dare to protest your mateâs wishes, letting him alternate between packing the little amount of things you have upstairs and taking inventory in the store while you run the register.Â
Itâs a sunny Saturday when you open your doors for the first time after over a month of being closed, and youâre much busier than youâd expected to be in all honesty, though it seems many of the females coming in are just being nosy to see how true it is that youâre actually back in the flesh.Â
There are less snide remarks thrown your way now, but still enough that they make you flinch every once in a while. They donât bother you anymore, though. During your time away, Azriel showed you how much you meant to him and how beautiful he thought you were in many ways, with his mouth, with his hands, with his tongue, with hisâŠ
âDo you think sheâs single again? LikeâŠdo you think he actually rejected the bond?â you hear a high fae female say on the far end of your busy shop, her eyes darting in your direction as she speaks to a friend.
âI hope so, thereâs no way he actuallyâOh my Gods.â her friend says, eyes wide when they fall on none other than the shadowsinger himself emerging from the back room of your store, a dozen books in hand.Â
A satisfied smile spreads across your face as Azriel walks behind the checkout counter to press a kiss to your forehead before placing the books next to you. The sound of the females whispering hastily falls on deaf ears as your mate turns to you, grabbing a small piece of paper off the top of the pile of books heâd been holding.Â
âFound six more copies of both of those romance novels you said you were out of, so no need to order more until those are gone.â he says while pointing at the books. âYou really need a better inventory system.â
âHmm, maybe Iâll just hire you to do it for me instead, since youâre so good at it.â you tease, shooting him a smirk.
âAs long as Iâm compensated fairly, I wouldnât mind.â he jokes with a wink, pulling you in for an embrace to speak to you lowly. âOn another note, you are officially fully moved into the House of Wind. So once youâre closed up for the day, weâll be able to go home and officially christen the bedroom.âÂ
âWeâve already christened that bedroom,â you giggle, rolling your eyes at him, âitâs been thoroughly christened, multiple times at this point. And if I remember correctly, itâs the first place that was christened by us.â
âAnd?â he says, lips quirked up into a smirk, âI plan on christening it multiple times tonight, and the next night, and the night after thatâŠâ
âOkay, I get it,â you laugh, slapping his chest lightly as you pull out of his grip, âYouâre insatiable.â
âAnd youâre beautiful and the love of my life.â he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.
It was safe to say that youâre getting nowhere past the mating frenzy phase of your relationship anytime soon.
And youâre okay with that.
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learning curve
alexia putellas x reader [& r's nephew] r gets custody of her 5 year old nephew when her brother gets into trouble. alexia insists on sticking around even though r gives her an out. it's a new and entirely stressful situation for r, but alexia makes it a bit easier. fluff, angst, etc. this is a kidfic.
â
How was it possible? That the most ordinary of days could be just one phone call away from shattering life as you knew it.Â
You should have known, really. Should have seen it coming. You were happy for the first time in a while. Happy in your career, in your relationship. Of course something would come along to change everything.Â
It was a pleasant day off, the day you got the call. A slow morning where Alexia woke up way before you, but didnât get up. Instead, she let you sleep in her arms, completely content to just⊠be there with you. Youâd made breakfast together, Alexiaâs voice raspy from lack of use, pressing kisses to your shoulders, your face, your neck, as if she couldnât help it. It was purely and entirely happy.Â
Your phone rang just after breakfast. It was an unknown number and you never answered unknown numbers but something about the call made your stomach drop. You clicked the answer button and gave Alexia an apologetic smile, walking out of the room.Â
âHello?â You greeted, tapping your foot impatiently when no one said anything right away. Alexia had put on her favorite show, and as much as you pretended to despise the soap, you were hooked.Â
The robotic, pre-recorded message that began startled you.
âThis call is from a person currently incarcerated in prison. All calls are logged and recorded and may be listened to by a member of prison staff. If you do not wish to accept this call, please hang up now.âÂ
It wasnât shocking, not really. Youâd gotten calls like this before, but not for a few years. He used to call a lot, when he first started getting into trouble, asking for money for a lawyer. At the time, you hadnât had any to give him. Eventually those specific calls stopped. You still heard from him, but not through a call being recorded by a prison.Â
He hadnât been arrested in 5 years. And now⊠the stakes were much higher.Â
âHello?â The deep voice of your brother came over the line, sounding utterly defeated.Â
âLeo.â You sighed. âWhat happened?âÂ
âI fucked up. I⊠Will wanted to start football. But I couldnât⊠I couldnât pay for boots for him. I just wanted to get him something nice.â Leo choked out. You could hear the emotion in his voice, and ignored the pang in your chest as you pictured the little boy just two years older than you, lip trembling as he promised heâd take care of everything.Â
âLeo, why didnât you call me? And ask for help?âÂ
âI didnât want to bother you. Youâre busy and I should be able to provide for my son. I shouldnât have to ask my little sister for help, I should have it figured out.âÂ
âSo⊠this is better? Getting arrested for petty theft and then calling me for help?â You asked sarcastically, though you understood him more than youâd admit. The need to be independent, completely self sufficient. The sinking feeling youâd get when you had to ask for help with something⊠you still felt that, too.
Your brother was quiet for a moment. Long enough that dread started to build up inside of you again.Â
âItâs not petty theft.â He said finally. âItâs grand theft. And accessory to assault. The guy I was working with went a bit rogue.âÂ
âJesus.â You sighed. âHow long?âÂ
Another long silence.Â
âHow long, Leo?â
â10-15 years.âÂ
You could practically see the tears falling from his eyes in your head, and you knew just by his tone he wasnât calling for money. Not this time. You could see Alexia out of the corner of your eye, hovering in the doorway uncertainly.Â
âI⊠I signed the papers, to give you custody of Will. To make it easier to take him back to Spain with you. Heâd be yours, and I know itâs a lot to ask, and if I had any other option, I would, but the only other option is putting him in the system, and I donât want that for him. I donât. Iâm so sorry to ask this of you, really Iââ
âItâs okay.â You breathed. âItâs alright. Of course, Iâll take him. Of course I will.â
Alexia moved closer, resting a hand on your shoulder once she noticed the tears in your eyes. You let her anchor you, suddenly very sure that this was it with her. Today had been the last nice day youâd have with her, and you hadnât even known it.Â
 But there wasnât a question of whether youâd do it or not.Â
âAre you sure? With your career andââ
âI can make it work.â You said. âIâll make it work.âÂ
âOkay.â Leo replied, sounding overwhelmingly relieved. âIâm sorry. Iâm so sorry. I wish IââÂ
âIâll be there as soon as I can to get him.â You cut in, unwilling to hear another apology. It wouldnât fix anything.
 Leo gave you the name of the woman to call, before saying goodbye and hanging up. Even after the call ended, you remained frozen, thinking through all the details, all the things you needed to do, unsure where to start.Â
âAmor?âÂ
Right. Thatâs where you had to start.Â
You turned to Alexia, your face completely impassive. It was the face you made when the team lost and you were upset, or when you got hurt and didnât want to cry. It was you running from vulnerability, and it had been a long time since Alexia had seen you make it towards her. Sheâd thought you were past this.Â
âMy brother was arrested. Iâm getting custody of his son. Will. Heâs 5. Iâm going to bring him back to Spain with me.â You spoke robotically, eyes fixed on a point on the wall just beyond Alexiaâs shoulder.Â
âOh⊠oh wow.â Alexia breathed, nodding her head slowly as she took the information in.Â
âItâs a good thing I didnât get rid of my old apartment. Iâll move my stuff when I get back, you donât need to worry about any of it. Iâll move back in there andââ
âWhy would you do that?â Alexia interrupted, her face twisted with confusion. You looked at her for a moment, her brown roots growing out and the oversized t-shirt she had on. It was soft, your favorite for her to wear because you loved the way the fabric felt on your skin when she held you.Â
God this was hard. Â
âI⊠I wonât do this to you, Ale. I wonât. You donât need this, but I have toââ
âNo. Stop. We are not breaking up, and you are not moving out.âÂ
You turned away from her when you saw the tears in her eyes, clenching your fists tightly and taking a few slow deep breaths. She was making this so hard, but you should have known she would.Â
âAlexia,â you began, your voice abruptly cutting off when the midfielder gently grabbed you by the shoulders and turned back towards her.Â
âNo. No.â She repeated, shaking her head over and over. âDo you love me?âÂ
You exhaled sharply, desperately wanting to wipe the tear off her cheek. To cradle her face in your hands, and kiss her frown away. You should lie, that would be the best choice. But you couldnât bring yourself to do so.Â
âI do, Ale. I love you so much. Thatâs whyââ
âThen thatâs it. You love me and I love you and people who love each other do not break up.â Alexia said firmly, her lip trembling even as she bit it to make it stop.Â
âAlexia, please. Itâs okay. You donât have to do this with me, I could never ask you to.âÂ
âYou are not asking. I am telling you. I am not going anywhere, and neither are you. You bring Will here and weâll figure it out together. Together, amor.âÂ
She moved closer, her hands cradling your cheeks, wiping your tears away just as youâd wanted to do with hers. Somehow, she was convincing you. Like she always did. Whenever it felt too unbelievable that she loved you, whenever you became absolutely convinced that youâd tricked her or something, and tried to leave for her. She always convinced you to stay, because she knew you never really wanted to leave her.Â
âItâs gonna be a lot.â You murmured, your hands finding their way to her waist, your body giving in before your brain did. âItâs gonna be really hard, especially with work.âÂ
âWe can do it. Together.â Alexia promised, leaning forward to dust a kiss across the tip of your nose. âI love you. Iâm not going anywhere. Weâre going to do it together, okay? Donât push me out. Please.âÂ
âOkay.â You allowed, finally giving in and leaning into her. She wrapped her arms around your body, squeezing so tight it almost hurt.Â
âPromise me? No pushing me away.â She whispered into your ear.Â
âI promise.â You breathed the words back, knowing, somehow, that you wouldnât break this promise. Never before had you gone back on something youâd promised Alexia, and you didnât intend to start now.Â
â
The plane ride had been long, and though you were already exhausted, you hadnât slept a wink. You were wide awake when the plane took off, and wide awake when it landed hours later. Some sleep would have really done you some good, but there was nothing to do about that now.Â
It was really an amalgamation of all of your least favorite things. The social services office was just as bad as you remembered it. Just as⊠lonely, regardless of how incredibly crowded it was. It was overly beige, from the walls down to the outfit the woman sitting across from you was wearing. Susan. Even her name sounded beige. Then, there was the paperwork. An endless pile of it on the desk in front of you. Your hand was starting to cramp from signing, and all you wanted was to see Will. Physically see him, make sure he was okay. He was somewhere in this building, surrounded by strangers. It was impossible not to picture him, all small and scared in an office, wondering if you were really coming for him.Â
You remembered that feeling. No one had ever come for you and Leo.Â
But you were here for Will. You were here for him, and it didnât matter too much that he barely knew you; at least, that's what you told yourself.Â
You were his aunt that lived far away in Spain, that sent at least three presents for his birthday every year, and three more for Christmas. You talked to him on the phone every so often, and Leo liked to send a picture of Will wearing your kit every few months. He liked dinosaurs and crafts, and he adored your brother. Willâs mom had never been in the picture; youâd never met her, never even gotten Leo to tell you her name. It was just the two of them, and you knew it was hard. You didnât know it was this hard for your brother, though. Youâd have stepped in much sooner if youâd known.Â
Signing the last piece of paper, you inhaled deeply and slid it back across the desk towards Susan.Â
âOkay! Thatâs everything in order. It would be a lot more complicated if your brother hadnât signed over his rights. Great foresight of him, to have the paperwork all ready!â
Yeah. Great foresight. Leo clearly possessed that.Â
âIâll go get Will! Like I said before, heâs been having a tough time, but the minute he arrived here he asked for you, telling us he was supposed to make sure that his Aunt came for him if anything ever happened to his Dad. I think heâll settle once he finally sees you.âÂ
Susan smiled kindly, stepping away from the desk and briskly walking down the hall.Â
The words settled something in you that worried Will wouldnât want to go with you, while at the same time, making you so incredibly frustrated. Leo could make sure to prepare Will for this exact situation to occur, yet he couldnât avoid committing felonies?Â
Before you could think too hard about what to say or do, there he was. Walking slowly down the hall next to Susan, a blue dinosaur clutched tightly to his chest. His brown hair fell messily around his head, in a way that reminded you of your brother. He was small, wearing a sweatshirt and shorts and a pair of velcro shoes. Small and scared, his face creased with anxiety and fear, even as he approached you.Â
âHere she is!â Susan said encouragingly, gently nudging Will closer when he came to a stop just in front of you. He was gazing up at you with wide, unsure eyes, and you could see tear tracks on his cheeks, his eyes red and puffy. He was so small.Â
It was instinctual, something you didnât even know you possessed that had you kneeling down and opening your arms. Willâs forehead un-creased just slightly, and he rushed forward, wrapping his arms tight around your neck.Â
âHey, buddy. Everythingâs okay now. Iâve got you.â You whispered, holding tightly to the little boy that was clinging onto you as if you were the last stable thing in the world. And you supposed you were; in his world at least.Â
Will exhaled shakily. For the first time in two whole days, he felt just a tiny bit safe. He didnât know you well, granted, but his Daddy had always told him that if there was an emergency, to make sure to call you. Heâd taught Will how to click your contact and call. Will hadnât been sure youâd come. You lived far away, and he barely ever saw you. The two of you were strangers practically. But Leo had always told Will that youâd come for him if he needed you. And Leo had never broken a promise to Will before⊠Well not until the other day, heâd waited in the office at school for a whole hour after the bell rang. When someone came for him, it wasnât his Dad. It was a police officer with a mustache and a mean face, and all Will could do was cry, and make sure that the police officer knew he had to call you. And though the details Will had been given were few, he knew his Dad had been bad and he was in trouble. Big trouble. The police officer had sounded all angry and stern when heâd told Will this, softening only slightly when Will asked when heâd get to see his Dad again.
The police officer hadnât answered, instead telling Will that he was being taken to the social services office, where heâd wait to figure out what the next steps were.Â
Will had waited for you, and even though the nice lady had told him you were coming, it took a while. More than one day, but he couldnât quite remember. It felt like forever.Â
But now you were here, and youâd given him a hug that felt like the hugs his Dad gave him, and he didnât feel like he had to try to be brave anymore. Your arms didnât loosen around him even as you stood up, and Will let himself relax. Just for a moment.Â
â
âWe going to Spain?â Will wondered, gripping two of your fingers when you held out your hand towards him. He trotted along next to you as you headed from the social services building down the block to your hotel.Â
âYeah. Barcelona.â You affirmed. Luckily, Will had been able to talk to Leo on the phone, and Leo told him what the plan was.Â
âBar-sa-lonuh? Or Spain?âÂ
âBarcelona is a city in Spain.â You clarified. âWeâll go there on a plane tomorrow morning.âÂ
âIs it a big plane?âÂ
âItâs a pretty big plane. Have you ever been on a plane before?âÂ
Will shook his head, brown curls blowing backwards slightly in the wind.
âItâll be fun. Weâll get snacks and⊠pick out a few movies to watch. And you can sleep if you want to.âÂ
âSnacks and movies?â Will repeated.Â
âYes! Does that sound fun?â You tried to sound excited even though there wasnât really anything you were dreading more than the long flight with a five year old.Â
Will just shrugged, his hand tightening around your fingers. You shifted the strap of his big duffel bag so it was further up on your shoulder, stopping just outside the hotel and bending down so you were eye level with him.Â
âI know itâs a lot of change, Will. And I know you donât know me very well butââÂ
âMy Daddy said youâre nice. And that youâll take good care of me.â Will whispered, tearing up as he remembered the phone call heâd gotten to have with his father this morning. Leo had called you right after, himself trying to hold it together as he explained he told Will that you were coming for him.Â
âIâm going to do my very best to take good care of you. Weâre gonna figure it out together, alright?âÂ
Will nodded slowly, taking a deep breath and rubbing at his eye with his fist. âAlright.âÂ
You figured that was the best youâd get, for now.Â
â
âTia?â Will whispered. You turned, finding him all tucked into one of the double beds, the covers pulled up to his chin. He was so small, the dinosaur pajamas heâd pulled out of his duffel bag a bit too big on him. âDad said Iâd grow into them if I ate my vegetablesâ, Will had said. Your brother was many things, and a good father was one of them. He was giving you a huge responsibility and huge shoes to fill.Â
Refocusing on Will and not how much he looked like your brother, you smiled, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed.Â
âWhatâs up, buddy?â You asked, hesitating for a moment before reaching and out brushing one of his curls away from his face. His whole body relaxed at the motion, and he looked a bit more confident as he opened his mouth to speak again.Â
âDo we have to go to Spain? We⊠we canât stay here?âÂ
Your heart twisted in your chest. You thought of your brother's words on the phone the past few days. Heâd repeated it a few times, as if knowing the doubt youâd carry.Â
You canât leave Spain. You have a career and a life there. Will speaks a bit of Spanish, and heâll adjust. He needs to be with you, and you need to be where youâre going to be happy. That will be the best thing for him.
Leo spoke with a wisdom in his voice that used to infuriate you, but youâd decided to trust the big brother voice, this time. Because he was Willâs dad, and he knew what Will needed.Â
âWe have to go to Spain.â You confirmed. Will frowned, an unhappy look on his face that tore at your emotions. âI know, itâs going to be an adjustment. But your Dad told me to take you there, and he always knows best, right?âÂ
Will looked conflicted. âI like it here.â
âI know, I know you do.â You paused, thinking once again back to your brother's advice.Â
Talk to him like heâs a person, not a baby. Heâs a smart kid, heâll understand.Â
âI play football in Spain. Itâs my job there, so thatâs where we have to be for now. But youâll like it, I promise. Itâs warm and sunny and it has really good food. Alexia is there, and I know youâll love her, and sheâs so excited to meet you in person.âÂ
Thankfully, Will had met Alexia over facetime before, and knew that you were together. You didnât have to introduce the idea to him, as heâd somehow already seemed to know it wouldnât just be the two of you when you arrived in Spain.Â
Will looked doubtful, and you could see the anxiety clearly written across his face. His features were so like Leoâs, and it was the same face your brother always had when he was nervous about something. The same face you had when you were nervous about something.Â
âWhy donât you ask me questions about Spain? And Iâll answer them, and then youâll know more before we get there.âÂ
Will was a talker, that much you knew. And so the questions began, about the food in Spain, about school in Spain, about the team you played for, and whether there were dinosaur toys there. Question after question, until you laid down on the bed next to him, eyes barely open.Â
âDo you live in a house in Spain?â Will asked, his energy still in full force as he asked what felt like the 500th question of the evening.Â
âAn apartment, but youâll have your own room.âÂ
âAnd Alexia lives there?âÂ
You nodded groggily.Â
âDoes she speak Spanish?âÂ
âShe does, but she also speaks English.âÂ
Will hummed. âMy Dad was teaching me some Spanish for when we met Alexia. He said your tia taught you both Spanish and that's why I call you tia because thatâs Spanish for aunt.âÂ
At this, you cracked a smile, forcing your eyes open as you nodded. âThatâs true. We lived with our tia for a while and she taught us Spanish.âÂ
âIs it hard to learn? Iâm not very good.â Will wondered, his questions seemingly endless.Â
âMmm, not hard. Youâll pick it up quickly, especially at school and with Alexia helping you with it.âÂ
âIs she nice?âÂ
âSheâs very nice.â You promised, eyes flying open when you realized you had a text from Alexia you hadnât yet read or responded to. Will yawned hugely as you pulled your phone out of your sweatshirt pocket, and you smiled down at him again.Â
âGo to sleep, buddy. I can answer more questions tomorrow.âÂ
With a small grunt of agreement and another yawn, he rolled over. Right into you, his head resting against your arm. It was indescribable, the soft feeling that filled your heart. Soft adoration, even as you stilled the left side of your body completely so as not to disturb him.Â
You didnât know much about kids, but it seemed you knew enough. For now.Â
Finally, you opened Alexiaâs text, tears pooling in your eyes as you read her words.Â
Amor! I hope everything is going well. Youâre doing great already, I am sure of it. I stopped at the store and got a few things for Will. You said he likes dinosaurs, sĂ?I love you, Iâll see you tomorrow. I canât wait to hug you.Â
God, you couldnât wait to see her. It wasnât very odd for the two of you to spend a night apart, but something about this felt different. You missed her deeply, fully, needed her to hold you and promise everything was going to be okay. The anxiety of how this whole new life would work was almost overshadowed by your excitement to see her again.Â
Almost.Â
â
Will was a pretty well behaved kid, youâd learned. Very sleepy when he woke up in the morning, but he snapped right out of it when you asked him what he wanted to download to watch on the plane. He very eagerly selected three disney movies, and you realized with a pang to your chest that all three were movies you and your brother had grown up on.Â
All three were Leoâs favorites, if you remembered right.Â
And now they were Willâs.Â
Not being the biggest fan of crowds, the airport clearly made your nephew nervous. He fidgeted his little hands together, walking so close to you that he ran into you every time you stopped. His hand would dart out to grab onto the hem of your t-shirt whenever anyone got too close to him, and he almost cried when the security agent made him walk through the metal detector by himself.Â
You figured this made sense, that after his whole world had been turned upside down, of course heâd attached himself onto the most stable thing he could find. That happened to be you. It was just⊠odd. Something you werenât used to. The checklist youâd made on your phone helped, reminding you to ask Will if he had to go to the bathroom, if he was hungry or thirsty, if he had any more questions about the plane. It was more than terrifying, honestly, that you were suddenly fully responsible for this small boy.Â
There was stress, of course. But there was also something so⊠incredibly different in the way Will pressed his face to the glass of the plane window, staring wide eyed as the plane took off. For every moment you worried you were messing up, even in the first 24 hours, there were 10 moments where Will rested his head against your shoulder or reached for your hand, or offered you one of his animal crackers with a smile that had you convinced that for your nephew, maybe you could do this.Â
â
âI can walk, Tia.â Will mumbled, squirming slightly in your arms.Â
You chuckled, rubbing his back softly. âItâs okay, buddy, itâs crowded and I know that makes you nervous.â Â
Youâd picked him up a moment ago, after noticing how terrified he looked at the massive crowds making their way through the airport. It was a struggle to wrangle both of your bags in one hand, while holding Will in the other, but you didnât want him to be uncomfortable. You took two steps towards the exit before you had to stop and readjust, wishing you had another pair of hands here to help.Â
Alexia had texted that she was there, and though youâd assumed that meant she was outside in her car, your eyes met hers across the bustling baggage claim before you had to take another step.Â
Your whole body practically sagged with relief, your bags falling to the ground where you stood as Alexia made her way over to you both, a concerned and sympathetic smile on her face.Â
âMi amor,â she greeted, softly kissing your temple and pulling you into as much of a hug as she could manage with Will still in your arms.Â
âHi.â You choked out, almost in tears at the sight of her. Here, in front of you, at the perfect time. With a smile on her face, already reaching for your bags.Â
âHi, Will.â She said gently.Â
Will peaked out from where his face had become hidden in your neck, relaxing a bit when he saw the semi familiar face.Â
âHi.â He whispered back, turning his face back in towards you and shutting his eyes.Â
âHeâs tired.â You explained, but Alexia just waved you off, beginning to lead you from the airport to the parking garage. It was much easier now that you only had to worry about carrying Will, who was quickly becoming dead weight in your arms as he drifted off.Â
âOf course he is, it has been a long few days. I bet youâre exhausted too. We can go home and go right to sleep, sĂ? We can worry about anything else tomorrow.âÂ
You nodded your agreement, not even wanting to contemplate the state of your to do list at the moment, though it was getting harder and harder to ignore.Â
As you arrived at the car, you shouldnât have been surprised by the car seat perfectly installed in the back of Alexiaâs car. Youâd mentioned needing one to her, but for some reason⊠you half expected her to forget. Or get the wrong one. You werenât sure why, but it was just something that you thought youâd have to do.Â
Yet when you opened the door to the back seat, it was all done for you. The perfect size for Will, buckled in correctly and everything. You carefully deposited him in the seat and buckled him in, before turning to Alexia, once again with tears in your eyes.Â
âThank you for getting that.â You mumbled, shutting the car door as quietly as you could.Â
âOf course.â Alexia said easily, her lips curving into a smile as she opened her arms for you. You practically collapsed into them, gripping tight to your girlfriend as she did the same to you.Â
âI missed you so much.â You cried.Â
âI missed you too, mi amor. You have no idea.â Alexia whispered back, her hand threading through your hair as she just held you for a moment. Eventually she leaned down to press her lips to yours. You kissed her back, taking in the feel of her hands as they cupped your jaw, her fading blonde hair tickling the side of your face.Â
When you pulled back from the kiss, she was still gazing at you so lovingly it made your heart burst.Â
âLetâs get you both home.â She suggested, and you nodded your agreement, needing nothing more than to be home in that moment.Â
â
The relief you felt when you finally stepped back into your apartment wasnât complete relief. Because you were home, but everything was different. There was a whole other person that had to fit into your life now, and you didnât even know where to begin carving out a space for him. There was figuring out a school that could accommodate a five year old that spoke very little Spanish. Then there was finding childcare for when training didnât perfectly align with school, or when the team was traveling. Would you bring Will with for away games?Â
The issues you needed to address were seemingly endless, but most urgently was that the extra bedroom was not fit for a child. It had a double bed, which would work for now, but didnât leave much room for anything else. What did a kid even need in his bedroom?Â
Toys, of course.Â
Books.Â
A desk?Â
A dresser? Or would the closet be enough?Â
God he would need more clothes.Â
And food that he'd like to eat.Â
And shampoo and conditioner for kids. Those were different from adult hair products, right?Â
That was most urgent, you decided. Making your home a home for him.Â
âWe should go shopping tomorrow.â You murmured, shifting Will in your arms a bit as you headed for the guest bedroom. Heâd fallen asleep in the car and it was night, so it made sense for him to keep sleeping.Â
What time did kids his age go to bed? 7? 8? You had no idea. Another question to answer.Â
With a gentle hand on your back guiding you down the hall, Alexia hummed in agreement, but you missed the small smile on her face. âI bought a few things.â She reminded you.Â
Your assumption was that a few things were a pair of pajamas, a new toy. A book, maybe? But when Alexia stepped around you to push the bedroom door open, your jaw dropped.Â
A few things, apparently, was an entirely redecorated room. A beautifully redecorated room. The walls were no longer white; instead they were painted a soft green. A wooden twin bed sat in the corner, a green canopy hanging the tall headboard and footboard. The bed was covered in a green comforter, a soft throw blanket, and 4 different pillows. A long shelf sat just under the large window, filled with toys and books. There was a separate toy box next to the bookshelf, overflowing with even more toys; cars and books and dolls and stuffed animals. Everything. Wall decor, a rug, a dresser, a cozy chair in the corner next to a lamp.Â
Alexia had thought of everything. And if youâd had any doubts about her dedication to this, to you, to Will, you no longer did. Alexia had done what youâd been too preoccupied to think of and made Will a space that was entirely his own, a place he could feel safe and comforted. Sheâd made your home his home without a second thought.Â
Without a word, you walked further into the room, choking back a sob as you laid a still sleeping Will down carefully on the bed. He shifted in his sleep, snuggling close to the soft pillows as you draped the throw blanket over him.Â
When you finally turned back towards your girlfriend, she was hovering in the doorway, chewing on her bottom lip as she gazed at you worriedly.Â
âToo much?â She whispered.Â
You barely held back the scoff that would have been much too loud, crossing the room quickly and throwing your arms around her.Â
âNo. Perfect. You're perfect. Thank you.â You mumbled into her neck, pressing kiss after kiss to the skin you found there. Alexia tightened her hold, walking the two of you backwards and out the door so you didnât wake Will.Â
âAre you crying?â Alexia asked, her thumb tracing across your cheek bone as she leaned back from your embrace.Â
You sniffled pathetically, leaning back in to press your forehead to Alexiaâs chest and steady yourself.Â
âI was just so overwhelmed and you did this and itâs perfect Ale. Thank you. Thank you.âÂ
Alexia pressed a kiss to the top of your head, squeezing you tightly.Â
âYou donât have to thank me. I promised, no? Iâm here. We are doing this together.âÂ
âI love you.â You cried, overwhelmed with love and wonder at what an incredible person your girlfriend was. Youâd already known, but she always found a way to surprise you, doing something so absurdly kind and thoughtful that you were struck all over again with how good she was.Â
âI love you too.â Alexia replied, swaying the two of you back and forth gently.Â
There were still a lot of unknowns. A lot of problems to solve and things to figure out. But youâd never been more sure that you could do it. It wasnât ideal, but you had Alexia and that was certainly ideal.Â
â
JUST finished this so PLEASE tell me if you catch a typo also planning more parts to this but i'm VERY open to ideas if you have them :)
#woso imagine#woso x reader#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas x reader#woso one shot#woso fanfics#kid fic
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THE HEART GROWS FONDER
pairing : kento nanami x f!reader summary : (requested) â kento nanami loved you before he even knew you, and his feelings were the one thing he never questioned. like pieces of a puzzle, you fit together. whatever happens, your feelings never waver. cw : childhood friends to lovers, reader is v emotional, canon events/jjk0 spoilers, mentions of character death, mutual and intense pining, miscommunication lack of communication, mild one-bed-trope?, platonic!satoru (bc apparently i am unable to write anything without mentioning him), light profanity, pet names, talk of wedding, sweet fluff, a good chunk of angst, slight jealousy, no use of y/n word count : 10.1 k
Kento was a knowledgeable man.
He knew how long it took to get from one place in Tokyo to another, no matter what time of day it was. Well aware of all the best routes for traveling the city most efficiently, even during rush hours.
He knew all the ways to make the most money. Not what he was proudest of, but working hard had garnered him a set of useful skills that made him a good employee, a real asset to the company.
He knew how to read a map, a skill long forgotten by most in this day and age. Should he ever find himself in a situation where there was no reception, he would be able to get his hands on a sheet displaying the nearby areas and figure out how to return to civilisation.
He knew how to best take care of his body. He had done extensive research to make sure he moved his body correctly during workouts to not harm himself. He wasnât interested in aching joints when he was old and gray.
And he knew he loved you â since the very first moment his eyes landed on you all those years ago.
He remembered the exact moment in excruciating detail as well, like how he had turned a little scared at the unfamiliar sensation of a racing heartbeat. When pressing his hand to his chest, he felt the rapid thumping. He quickly realised it was caused by the sight of you when it happened every time he spotted you.
His dad would tease him whenever he caught Kento sitting in the windowsill, chubby cheeks resting on his forearms as he gazed lovingly towards the little girl playing in her front yard a few houses down. âIâm sure she would love to play with you.â His face would turn bright crimson, a colour that had become all too common in the Nanami household whenever you were brought up, before an embarrassed Kento would stomp up to his room.
He didnât learn your name until the first day of school â your parents had arranged for the two of you to walk to school together. He had been over the moon when he heard the news, pure excitement filling his body to the point where he could not sit still. But the moment he was stood in front of you, your voice sweet as honey when introducing yourself, his throat dried out and he turned tongue tied. His mom placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing his feet back on the ground, âKento,â he croaked weakly before disappearing into his jacket.
With small feet carrying you to and from school, you tried to force a conversation out of him but to no prevail. He remained shy and quiet, eventually resulting in a statement that had saddened him more than he could have anticipated; âyou donât talk much, do you?â
There had been no ill intent in your words, but it had Kento distance himself from you. What was supposed to blossom into a friendship (and maybe even more with time), only simmered down to him consistently trialing five steps behind you on the path to school that became all too bleak when it hadnât turned out how he had imagined it.
His infatuation didnât seem to disappear anytime soon either. If anything, now having the opportunity to observe you in closer proximity only deepened his feelings. He now got to witness the outgoing and bubbly personality that was wrapped in your cute exterior, exceeding all his expectations of what he had imagined you would be like â fascinated by how you seemed to excel in aspects where he lacked.
And the more time that passed, it seemed the day he would find the courage to catch up and walk along side you traveled further out of his reach.
He continued to admire from afar, watching as you earned yourselves new friendships as easily as putting your shoes on in the morning. Kento wasnât the only one drawn to your outgoing personality and charming smile, his heart breaking a little when you formed a tight knit friend group and he didnât get to be a part of it.
Thatâs how it went. Kento sort of just blended into the background, never making a number of himself. He was nearly certain no one really knew he even existed at all (except the teachers, who absolutely adored him). Day after day, he sat by himself with a book in his hands, only ever looking up to admire you for a few seconds as you would play with your friends.
However, he preferred the quiet life in school more than what it evolved into as second grade rolled around.
During recess, he would sit with his book, same as always, counting the minutes until school was over so he would walk those five familiar steps behind you â thatâs when two third graders had approached him, their intention clear as day.
Their antics continued for two weeks â until what he thought was the voice of an angel interrupted.
âHi there.â
Kento would recognise that voice anywhere, turning towards the source to see you, huge grin plastered on your face, both hands behind your back as you stared down the two third graders.
âWhatâs going on here?â You asked in such a sweet and innocent tone, but all three of the boys could see there was something borderline unfriendly in your eyes that was not present in your words.
âDoesnât concern you,â one of the mean kids bit back.
âHmm,â you hummed, pressing your lips together before shifting to a serious tone. âI think it does, because from over there-â you pointed in the direction of where you had stood moments earlier, âit looked like you were picking on my friend.â
Friend? Had he heard you right?
Before they could retaliate, you had already opened your mouth again, âIâll scream! The adults will come and youâll be in biiiig trouble!â Your tone had been so cheerful, but that same threatening intent lingered in your gaze â a look one did not want to receive from a stubborn, little seven year old.
It seemed like your scare tactic worked, because after grumbling to themselves for a few seconds, they shuffled away with their tails between their legs. And once they were far enough away not to be a bother anymore, you squatted down on the gravel beside Kento, wrapping your arms around your legs.
âYou okay, Kento?â Completely transformed, not a hint of your malice present any longer, just soft and genuine concern when speaking his name.
He blinked a few times, using the back of his hand to dry the few tears that had watered up in the corner of his eyes before he answered you. ââM fine,â he sniffled, then daring to look you in the eyes to mutter a shy âthank you.â
âAnytime.â
You couldnât explain why you had decided to interfere â because labelling Kento a friend wasnât entirely true. The boy had barely said a word to you for the year you had known him, but you had just been filled with anger when you witnessed the older kids choose to pick on him. He did not have a mean bone in his body. And maybe somewhere along the line, you had gained a soft spot for the reserved kid, having not been able to stop glancing over your shoulder from time to time when you walked to and from school, just to make sure he was still there.
Never had Kento imagined that the taunting from his upperclassman would be his biggest blessing to date. He no longer sat alone during lunch, but instead accepted your invite to eat with you and your little clique.
And finally your friendship with Kento had the opportunity to grow.
Thanks to you, school had become a lot more enjoyable for him after that. The walks to and from school was no longer spent with an awkward distance, now matching your pace as you both indulged in small talk from the moment you left school until he left you at your door.
He knew he should have been satisfied, and in one way he was. He was finally allowed to call you his friend after all, but during school hours, you usually hung out the entire group. And on your spare time, you had a tendency to reserve your time just for the girls. So while he wished for more, he continued to shoot longing, and not so subtle, gazes across the table.
It abruptly changed when you were thirteen, walking home from school like any other day, when your blunt question had cut through the conversation.
âHey, you want to go to the movies with me?â
âWhat?â Kentoâs thirteen year old brain had not been able to comprehend the question, stopping dead in his tracks to stare at you with big eyes, swallowing the massive lump in his throat. Had you just asked him on a date?
You stopped when you noticed he did, staring right back at him like this wasnât a big deal. âNone of the girls were interested, and youâre the only boy in our group I can tolerate without any of the girls,â you rolled your eyes. You had turned a little feisty when entering your teens.
âUh, yeah, sure,â he said, drawing his lips into an awkward line, hoping he could play it off as a smile.
Your deadpanned expression immediately twisted into one of pure joy. âGreat!â
Kento had stood in front of his mirror all afternoon, using both his hands to smoothen the crinkles of his shirt, treating it very much like a date. He didnât even realise how long he had been stressing in his room until his mom came knocking, telling him you were waiting outside.
He had been a little disappointed when he saw you, because it became very evident you did not consider it a date. Wearing the same outfit you had worn to school that day, resting on the handlebars of your bike. âCâmon, we need to get popcorn before the movie starts,â you nagged, just the tiniest bit annoyed.
When stood in the kiosk, he had offered to pay for the popcorn, like the good, little gentleman he had been raised to be. âOh, no need. Mom gave me money to pay for it,â you said cheerfully with a shrug and a smile. âThanks, though.â
The movie couldnât hold Kentoâs attention, even if he wanted to, because for the whole ninety minutes you had your knee rested against his. The sensation of the shy touch of your leg had his heart beat so loud against his ribcage, he was scared you might turn to him and tell it to shush so you could hear the movie.
It wasnât much, but the pressing feeling was definitely prominent enough that you had to be aware of it too. And in his mind, it seemed only logical you kept your leg still against his because you wanted it to touch him. But whenever he flickered his eyes over to you, you seemed utterly unbothered, attention fixated on the screen as your hand continued to grab popcorn from the bucket.
He tried to keep his breath even, letting his tension spill out by clenching and unclenching his fists. He was so determined to sit completely still, scared the tiniest flinch would cause you to shift your leg away from him.
Trips to the movies, just in each otherâs company, became a regular occurrence after that. And about half of the time, you let him pay⊠only because you paid the other half, but he let himself wallow in the idea that he was treating you for the evening.
He was in high school when one of your friends had asked about it. âWhatâs really going on there, Kento?â
He had immediately decided to play dumb. Not because he was embarrassed, but if there was even the slightest chance it would feed them material they could use to make you uncomfortable, he wanted to avoid it. âWhat do you mean?â
âCome on, man,â he laughed mockingly. âYou and her,â nodding towards where you stood with your girlfriends in the cafeteria line. âThe two of you hang out with each other more than us these days.â
âI donât know, weâre friends?â Kento shrugged, almost certain he was able to play it off as casual.
âFriends? Right, friends who constantly go on movie dates together.â
âTheyâre not dates,â was all he had been able to say to defend himself, feeling his cheeks grow hot like they had done when he was younger.
They had all chucked at him then. âYeah, whatever man. Congratulations bagging the prettiest girl in school,â was the last thing that was said before you and the rest of the girls joined their table. You sat down beside Kento, like always.
Carefully, you had nudged his arm to get his attention. âYou okay?â You asked quietly so only he could hear.
He gave you a weak but genuine smile. âYes, just lost in thought is all.â You smiled back at him, making his heart skip a beat.
You donât remember when it changed for you. If it had been a gradual thing, or if you had just woken up one day with this feeling â but something was definitely different.
The realisation had hit you mid sentence. Rambling on about some meaningless topic, like you always did, and suddenly you noticed the way he was looking at you.
He was listening so intently, not missing a single word coming from your mouth, a faint smile stamped at the corner of his lips and a tenderness in his eyes you hadnât really noticed before. You only managed to snap out of it when he spoke your name.
âAm I losing you by not talking?â He teased before taking a sip out of his coffee.
âShit,â you muttered, his eyebrows raising in surprise. âI just remembered this group assignment I have due tomorrow.â A lie â and an obvious one at that. But Kento didnât get a moment to ask any follow-up questions before you had gathered your stuff and rushed to say goodbye, leaving him alone in the cafe.
For the entire walk home, you thought about Kento, now suddenly in a new light, reflecting over the entirety of your friendship.
You became aware of how he always seemed to prioritise you in the group without hesitation. You had just brushed it off, assuming he felt indebted to you for coming to his rescue when you were seven. But you realised now how ridiculous that sounded.
You thought of all the times he had come running when you had asked for him. Whether it was after a fight with one of your girlfriends, or a date that had gone horribly wrong, he dropped everything to be by your side.
You realised now why you always caught yourself answering with a frown when girls came to ask you about him. As you had gotten older, he had definitely grown into his looks, a subtle kind of handsome that snuck up on you.
When you got home, you had pulled out your phone to send a text to apologise for bailing so abruptly. But you typed and deleted the message twenty times over, anxiety you had never felt about him before overwhelming you. In the end, you ended up not sending anything at all, feeling like no words sufficed.
And the next time you met, you acted as if nothing had happened, and he just went along with it.
You tried desperately to act as if nothing had changed, beyond terrified you would scare him off or make him uncomfortable if he picked up on your new and revolutionary feelings for him. If there was one thing you were absolute certain about, it was that you would never do anything to jeopardise the friendship you had with him. There was no competition of what person in your life you cherished the most; Kento Nanami. Youâd be the earth's biggest fool to gamble that away for anything.
When you were 16, you nearly caved.
In your desperate attempt of keeping things normal, you had continued your meaningless escapades â which meant going on terrible dates with even more terrible guys â turns out teenage boys are just assholes by default.
âItâs their loss,â Kento cooed in a warm tone, sitting beside you on your bed with a comforting arm around your shoulders.
In all honesty, you didnât even care all that much about the date. You couldnât even remember the guyâs name. No, your mind was way more interested in how his strong hand cupped your arm so perfectly.
You turned to look at him, faces closer than ever before. He happily held your gaze â you were just hoping he was able to read the messages it conveyed.
Tell me to stop seeing these guys, and Iâll stop.
Tell me you want me the way I want you.
Tell me itâs you Iâm meant to be with.
âYouâll find someone worthy of you eventually.â
Your heart sunk, having built up your own expectations based on how his eyes had roamed your face as if he truly desired you. Maybe this was all in your head.
It wasnât.
But Kento, much like you, didnât want to lose you over anything. Confessing risked the relationship he already had with you. He would rather have you as a friend, than not have you in his life at all.
Not long after that, you both joined Jujutsu tech. Slowly but surely, you slipped away from your childhood group â him more than you. You tried your very best to stay in touch, though your new schedule made that hard.
With these new threats looming around you, neither of you could help how your friendship â or whatever you would call what was going on between you â continued to grow deeper. More serious. It went unsaid by the both of you, but there was just a mutual understanding that it was the logical development when there was the slightest possibility of it ending all too soon.
Still neither of you confessed.
You fell into routines, so accustomed to seeing him every minute of every day, your first instinct when returning from a mission was to find him.
As expected, Kento heard the three soft knocks he knew all too well at this point, before you squeezed through his door. With a deep exhale, you fell back on his bed, while he sat in his desk chair, arms crossed over his chest. âIâm exhausted.â
âDid you just get back?â His muscles were a little tense, like they always where whenever you had to go on a mission without him, his eyes searching every inch of you to see if there were any visible injuries he had to worry about.
âLittle over an hour ago. Had to escape Gojo talking my ear off about his own mission.â
Kento observed how the corner of your lips tugged upwards in a tired smile, your chest vibrating with a soft chuckle.
He was always happy to see you come back unharmed, but he hated the exhaustion that rested in your joints â and it filled him with an unexplainable urge to help you somehow.
He imagined guiding you to lay on your stomach, placing his legs on each side of you and slowly soothing your muscles, rubbing caring motions along the curves of your body to fill it with the relaxation you deserved â but he couldnât. It would definitely cross a line, too intimate for just friends.
âGlad youâre back,â he said almost in a whisper.
âMe too.â He could barely hear you, the mission slowly catching up with your energy as well, sensing on your breathing that you werenât too far from falling asleep.
The silence that surrounded you was comfortable. You had grown so accustomed to each otherâs presence, any awkwardness had ceased to exist. Nevertheless, Kento didnât quite know what to do with himself, just looking at you sprawled out on his bed, a scene he would like to see every night.
âKento?â Your voice was so soft.
âYes?â
âCan I stay here tonight?â
He heard the slight hesitation in your voice before you expressed your request. Raising up his neck and face was a burning heat, his breathing coming out shallow as he didnât quite know what to say.
Being a cautious man, he thought of every possible outcome.
It was prohibited, so he should decline. But he would hate himself forever if he simply sent you away because of the schoolâs outdated rules â he also knew he would regret it until his heart stopped beating.
So having you stay here was the only reasonable outcome â but then what? He supposed he would end up sleeping on the floor, like the gentleman he was. He would at least never assume he could sleep next to you, and he would not be as vulgar to ask.
He cleared his throat before speaking. âOf course. Iâll just-â
âKento,â you said his name again, just as soft as always.
âYeah?â
âThereâs room for both of us on the bed.â
He had to swallow the massive lump that felt as if it was suffocating him. It at least stopped any further words to come out of his mouth. He slowly raised from the chair, floorboards creaking as he stepped over.
With his eyes locked on you, seemingly so calm with your eyes closed, he positioned himself beside you so he was facing you.
Goosebumps prickled up his arm when he felt your breath fan against his face, and he wondered how you managed to keep it in such an even rhythm. Didnât this closeness send lightning through your body like it did for him, temptation threatening the act of finally crossing the line?
There was a crease between your eyebrows that seemed unintentional, like the events of the day had just planted themselves on your face and even your calm breathing couldnât ease it. Against his better judgment, Kentoâs urges steered his thumb towards your face, not reflecting over his action before he had ran his skin across the crinkle to smoothen the tension.
Shit, he thought to himself, certain you would open your mouth to tell him off â instead he saw how there had been a slight strain to your shoulders that was now released.
While he let his eyes roam your face, taking in every breathtaking aspect of your beauty, he felt a small spark of fear fill him at how right it all felt â lying next to you, so close he could feel the warmth radiate from your skin, his soft touch being able to bring rest to your body, the mere idea that he could envelop you in his arms if he wanted to.
âIâm happy youâre here with me,â your voice startled him a little, as he had assumed you had already fallen into the oblivion of sleep. âIâd never be able to navigate this world without you.â
âThatâs not true.â Your eyes opened to meet his, catching his breath immediately, so stunningly deep he always felt himself fall into them. âYouâve always been the one looking out for me.â
You chuckled a little at that, endless memories of the two of you throughout childhood. âI guess in one way. But youâve always kept me afloat.â
âYou give yourself too little credit.â He had to stop himself from letting his fingers graze your cheek in the most tender caress. âYou would have done just fine on your own.â
A small smile of flattery dared dance on your lips. âBut I donât want to.â It felt like a confession, unspoken feelings hidden within those words, begging for him to be able to deduce the true meaning. âThinking of a life where youâre not at my side scares me.â
âLetâs never find out what that life is like.â
Kento would later eat those words.
Haibaraâs death hit Kento the hardest. Numerous evenings were spent in the eerie silence of his cold dorm. When he cried, you held him. When he was trying to distract himself by reading, you sat and watched him, keeping him company. When he went the entire night without sparing you the slightest gaze, you knew you had overstayed your welcome, leaving him to be alone for a night.
âI donât think I will continue to be a sorcerer.â
That was the first thing he said that hadnât been a complete necessity, and it sent a spike of ice down your spine, not daring to understand his statement right away.
âOh,â was the only thing you could think of to respond that did not entertain his idea.
His eyes met yours, the eye contact more intense than it had been for days, realising just how much you had missed having his kind eyes directed at you. Seemed like he felt it too, as the smallest gasp slipped out of him.
âI mean it.â
The tears instantly burned in your eyes, blinking them away before they had the chance to come running. âThat's what scares me,â your voice betrayed you as the usual confidence came out cracked.
He didnât push it any further, reading you as an open book â you knew he was telling the truth, but refused to acknowledge it. It was like if you ignored his statement, it would somehow end differently.
Luckily, after that night, Kento started to somewhat fall back to his old self. His smile started to return, it was easier to hold a conversation with him, which you obviously appreciated â however, he had planted a fear in you that had taken your body hostage.
You abandoned any sense of boundaries entirely, hanging onto his arm at all times. It was only when you were physically aware of his frame you were able to cling onto a string of peace. Feeling his body glued at your side only served as a confirmation that he was still here, and as long as you held on he couldnât go anywhere. He couldnât leave.
And whenever you had to pry yourself off of him to tend to your responsibilities where he wasnât assigned, you were constantly living in a state of anxiety. Foot tapping against the floor, picking at your skin, petrified you would end up returning to see his room stripped of any signs of life â that he would have finally done the thing he said he would do, and part with the Jujutsu world.
Every time you returned, the sweetest sensation of relief washed over you, tears welling up immediately when he always stood ready to greet you. âHey you,â he said softly, pulling you into his arms, holding you tight until he could physically feel your body let go of the stress that had tainted every muscle, every joint, for the entire time you had been separated.
But graduation day came and time was up.
You had held onto hope he would eventually change his mind, that it was only the initial grief that had weighed heavy on his conscience. But you were now standing in his bare room, everything packed into cardboard boxes. Of course it had only been a childish dream to think he would stay â there was no changing his mind.
âI really am sorry.â He was so earnest, like always, making it hard to be mad at him even though you so desperately wanted to. He genuinely had so much compassion, his hands stroking your arms in an attempt to calm the bouncing of your shoulders that followed the frantic rhythm of your sobs.
âI just donât understand why?â You continued to sob, sentence coming out in sad intervals as you heaved for air.
âThis isnât right. Itâs not right of them to expect us to be okay with watching our partners lay down their lives like this.â
You wanted so badly to scream at him, bang your fists against his chest before clasping onto his shirt so he wouldnât even have the opportunity to leave. You knew it was unwarranted for you to feel that way, but the fact that he was following through with his stunt felt like a betrayal.
âYou said we werenât going to find out what this would be like.â
His heart shattered. Looking into your doe eyes, tainted red with sorrow as the sentence laced with innocence sent him back to every fragile evening throughout your journey together he had spent comforting you. How many tears he had dried, happily so? But this time it was his doing â him who brought you to a state of despair so grave you couldnât breathe, and he knew this time he wouldnât be able to comfort you.
Waiting for his next words were torture, time at a standstill watching his mouth open and close while he constructed the sentence in his mind. Though useless, the glimmer of hope refused to die out, begging for his surrender â youâre right, Iâll stay.
âIâm sorry.â
Another one of your earth shattering sobs came flying past your lips, stabbing him right in the heart that had only ever beaten for you.
Comforting you would always be second nature to him, which had his hands cup your face and pulling it closer to rest his forehead against yours. He wished, begged, for his touch to bring you comfort one last time before he left. But your body continued to shake. âItâll be okay,â he tried to reassure you, spoken in a faint whisper. Repeating it over and over, waiting for his small affirmations to take affect â they never did.
Ask me to come with you.
Those six words played like a broken record in your mind, knowing you would pack your bags and abandon this god forsaken life at the drop of a hat if he just asked you to.
Come with me.
The request laid restless at the tip of his tongue, fighting every voice in him that was screaming at him to be selfish. But he couldnât with you, never with you.
Unlike him, you had a purpose in this world â you were able to see the good in what you did, and he would never be able to forgive himself if he ripped you away from it no matter how much he wanted to.
There seemed like there was no limit to your tears. Shuddering against his touch, he sensed your body didnât have much energy left to stand. He ended up leading the two of you to his bed, stripped bare to just the mattress, duvet folded at the end. Without any words spoken, you laid down in his arms, burying your face in his chest while the sobs continued to tumble out uncontrollably.
His strong arms locked around you, holding you as close to him as humanly possible, letting the illusion of him never disappearing from you live on for another night.
Eventually your sobs calmed down, only happening sporadically. The shaking stopped and he felt your breathing even out, telling him you had finally been able to let sleep consume you.
He couldnât stop himself â placing a chaste kiss at the crown of your head, mumbling quiet and secret apologies before sleep caught him too.
According to Gojo, his departure had been quick. He hadnât said much, just given them all a nod before grabbing his bags and disappearing.
You had decided against seeing him off. The two of you had said your goodbyes the night before in the solemn of his empty dorm. It had been wet, heartbreaking and nothing short of painful, but at least it had been private between the two of you. No one knew how your tears had soaked his shirt, or how your fists had created crinkles in the fabric while desperately holding onto him. No one knew how you had cried until the exhaustion knocked you out in his arms, so scared to wake up to face the new reality where Kento wasnât at your immediate side like he had been since you were kids.
You couldnât really remember what it was like to not have him there. Even before you had grown close, he had always lingered, the one thing in your life that had stayed consistent throughout it all was him.
The next weeks were absolutely torture, having to feed the people surrounding you endless lies of âIâm fine, really.â You were really just trying to prevent yourself from letting the reality set in properly. If that can of worms were to open again, you had no clue when or how you would be able to stop it. Last time you had still been able to seek some comfort against his warmth, only able to stop it because you practically passed out.
Not a single moment passed where he didnât cross your mind, small things reminding you of him. All your little routines â for days you forgot to grab lunch because you were so used to him bringing it to you. For days you ended up with one towel too many, because you always brought an extra for him after training. Mundane things you had always taken for granted, gone in an instant.
Despite feeling a little betrayed, you couldnât really blame him either. So you reached deep within yourself to try and stay positive. It wasnât like he was gone gone, he had just retreated to a normal life.
You stayed in touch, sending regular updates about how you were getting by in the world of curses without him â lying of course. When he had left, he had taken some of the purpose you had in it all with him. But you didnât want him to worry. You told him how you eventually started teaching at Jujutsu High alongside Gojo, and it felt nice to be responsible for the next generation of sorcerers.
And at first you received regular updates in return. He got himself a quaint little apartment that fitted his needs perfectly. You even got a few blurry photos of how he had tried to decorate it so it would feel more homely â you had cried when you received those.
You never called each other though. It seemed like there was a mutual understanding that it would be too unbearable to hear the voice of the other.
After a while, the updates slowly came to a halt. You kept on sending yours however, only for that little checkmark to appear and confirm he had read it. But no answer â you cried then too.
Had you said something or done something to make him cut the contact? You never managed to wrap your head around why he stopped showing you his new life.
Kento had never wanted to stop sending the messages â on the contrary. If anything, he had to stop himself from not telling you about every single minute of his day, even the most meaningless things, just as an excuse to talk to you.
But one day, thanks to a white haired little birdie, all consuming guilt had struck him. âShe doesnât say it, but sheâs miserable.â
He held his breath, his fingers unintentionally clenching tighter around his phone. âShe is?â His voice came out faint. He heard Gojo let out a deep sigh at the other end of the line.
âShe tries. Very hard. I stopped asking a long time ago because she kept lying anyways.â
âOh.â Kento had been a fool, believing your words when he had read them on his screen. When he hadnât been able to hear the tone behind the statements, he had been able to convince himself they were genuine. But of course you were lying â he was, after all.
âBut I think she really enjoys teaching,â Gojo said after a moment of sad silence, trying to fill the conversation with some optimism. âAnd the kids love her.â
âYes, I can imagine as much,â a small smile appearing on his lips, picturing the scene of you with the young students.
âLook, I have to run, sheâs waving me over. Should I-â
âNo!â Kento rushed to cut him off. âNo, donât say anything. Please.â
He made up his mind then and there â he was not going to cause you any more pain. So he had to let you go entirely to allow you to move on. The way he was selfishly clinging onto the crumps you gave him seemed to do you no good, if the image Gojo painted was accurate.
So he stopped. Even though his fingers urged to reach out, he fought against it, for you.
You, however, could not hinder how your finger pressed the send button every now and then. The updates definitely became less frequent when he went radio silent, but you did not have the strength to stop. If you stopped⊠there was a fear he would never come back.
Kento was supposed to share his life with you.
He had believed so ever since he was a little kid, ogling you from afar before he even knew your name. The way you made his heart jump and pulse quicken had to be his bodyâs way of telling him you were meant to be with him, quickly growing addicted, dependent, on the reactions you created in him without trying.
But he had made the drastic choice of abandoning that feeling, convinced the alternative did you harm â and the mere concept of being the reason you even felt the faintest glimmer of discomfort was something he could not live with.
He welcomed the misery, a small price to pay for the belief that you were doing better now. He also thought he had good reason to believe that was the case.
The updates you sent him were few and far between these days, but it did paint a picture. You were rarely in the photos, but there was an energy present in the moments eternalised that seemed pleasant and positive. He imagined you had found your role, your place in life where you would get to fulfil your potential. And whether or not he was there was irrelevant.
He convinced himself his own insecurities were a reality to make it easier to bear.
Ever since childhood, you had been the headstrong one. The independent one. The brave one. It always lingered in the back of his mind whenever he just observed you in different scenarios â that it really didnât matter if he was there or not, forever just an accessory to your life. He even feared he was holding you back somehow.
So it was only reasonable to think time away from him would have provided you with the playing field to develop into the best version of yourself⊠right?
Years went by and Kentoâs pain didnât ease. He missed you â every single day. And he kept living in that constant state of torture for you, until the fantasy shattered.
It was just another day, nothing out of the ordinary. Kento was going about his drowsy routines of stopping by the same bakery he did every morning before work. However today, he was nearly tackled by two kids, a boy and a girl about the age of six, once he entered the building.
âIâm so sorry, sir,â a grown woman rushed over to apologise as she brought the children back to their little table.
âItâs no problem,â he mumbled monotonously, eyes following them as they scattered back to their seats, where another woman sat.
A wave of nostalgia crashed over him, feeling like he had the privilege of looking back in time. The little boy resembled a young Kento Nanami, his blonde locks neatly styled, chubby, red cheeks and a baby-blue button up shirt â a rather mature attire for a six year old.
And the boy had his eyes glued on his friend, a girl the same age, very evidently the more outgoing out of the two. She was rambling enthusiastically, arms waving all over the place as he told her story down to the smallest detail, exhibiting the same spark you always had.
The boy kept a glare of pure awe as he followed her every word, seen so clearly in his eyes how much he admired her. And Kento knew how this story would continue â that night the boy would lay in his bed, the biggest smile on his face, unable to fall asleep as the day spent with his friend would play on repeat in his mind â much like Kento had spent countless nights when he was young.
It wasnât until the girl behind the counter called for him he was able to pull his attention away from the all too familiar scene.
So polite, a sweet smile on her face as she served him the same thing he ordered every day. And then she asked how he was sleeping. It fascinated him, how this girl didnât owe him anything, and had her own worries â like the little curse sat on her shoulder â and still showed concern for him.
He had noticed the curse before, but purposely never done anything about it. It wasnât a proper threat, and it would be more of a hustle for him to deal with the reactions of ridding her of it than let it be. But now, having the innocent scene a few feet from him remind him of you, he quickly began to consider doing the girl a favour.
You would have exorcised it â without hesitation.
Not just that, you would probably give him crap for not exorcising it immediately. It wouldn't cost him anything to do it, so why wouldnât he?
âCould you take a step forward, please?â Kento asked politely, the girl a little confused but doing as he said. He had your voice in the back of his mind while he easily exorcised the curse with one swift motion, the strain in her shoulder easing immediately.
âHuh? Itâs lighter!â She exclaimed, rolling her arm around at the newfound relief.
âIf anything still feels off, please go to the hospital,â he said with a small nod. He grabbed his food and headed for the exit, sparing one last glance at the table where the two kids sat, still deep in the conversation.
His lungs let out a deep, involuntary breath when the realisation dawned on him â he could no longer stay away, caving to his desires.
Maybe enough time had passed for it not to be considered selfish? If you had in fact found your place where you were content and comfortable, and meeting him again would be causal for you?
The questions kept circulating his mind as he pulled out his phone to dial the one person who would be able to set it all up at the blink of an eye.
His whole world stopped when he saw you, and he wondered how he had ever thought it a good idea to leave you â how could he possibly have survived all that time without you?
It was almost painful how his heart was clawing at the inside of his chest, desperate to be with you. It wasnât until he felt the overwhelming pounding he realised his heart had not beat properly for the years he had spent away â meant to beat in unison with yours. His skin was turning cold as ice and the only way for it to regain its warmth was your touch, your soft embrace.
Kento hadnât known what to expect when he saw you again, but he had certainly thought he would have more rational and coherent thoughts. Right now, it was all scrambling in his head and the only thing that appeared clearly in his mind was you, framed in the halo of your aura, taking his breath as way just as easily as when he was six.
With his body going numb, he observed you interact with Gojo and two kids he assumed were your students. You looked calm, a small smile decorating the plump line of your lips â it wasnât as radiant as it used to be. In fact, your entire energy just seemed a little off. Maybe you had just gotten home from a mission, or it has been a hectic day in general.
Truth was not so mundane. You wished it was as simple as a long and tiring day. That would mean you could just jump in bed and sleep it off, ready to face a new day tomorrow.
But the day Kento left the jujutsu society behind, he unintentionally stole your spark with him.
You could never hate him for it though, he didnât know. He only did what he felt like he needed to do, and you would be a terrible friend to stand in the way of that. But you had no control over how your mind decided to react.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder was something you had always heard growing up, and you had never really understood it â until faced with the situation yourself.
Not a day went by where you didnât think of Kento. You thought of how his grin always grew slowly when watching you, eventually revealing the shy smile lines across his cheeks. The ghost of his touch, which was always dancing the line of appropriate or not, never leaving your mind. Sometimes you still felt the imprint of his arms around you.
âDonât you guys listen to him for a second,â you chuckled, the tiniest hint of frustration in your voice. âGojo doesnât qualify as a responsible adult.â
His jaw fell to the ground in fake offence, eyebrows narrowing at the innocent laughs spilling from the students. âYou were never this mean when we were younger,â he whined, folding his arms across his chest, looking like a stubborn child.
âThatâs what you think,â you teased, nudging an elbow into his side. âYou should have heard the things we said about you behind closed doors.â
His big hand came piercing through the air, pressing it against your face, gently shoving you away from the conversation. A lighthearted, but genuine, little laugh escaped you. âWe donât want to hear what you and your little boyfriend did in private,â Gojo rolled his eyes, pretending to gag at the made up memories.
Annoying as he was, Gojo had a way to actually make you forget the pain of it all for a few seconds. You would never tell him, obviously, that he managed to put the storm inside your head on hold for a second â he would rub it in your face every chance he got.
âWait, senpai had a boyfriend when she attended here?â One of the students interjected and suddenly the mood of the conversation shifted. Gojoâs hand fell from your face before he shot you an apologetic smile.
For the most part, it was never a problem whenever Kento was brought up in the company of Gojo and Shoko. Everything was out in the open between the three of you, shared history taking away some of the pain. But whenever it slipped outside your little trio, it quickly became a sore topic.
Mouth opening and closing, trying to find the words to answer without having to give an explanation. Luckily, a painfully familiar voice called your name behind you, instantly sending a shiver down your spine.
All of you turned towards the voice, and you couldnât help but let out an audible gasp at the beautiful image of your other half standing in front of you after all these years.
Your heartâs instinct steered your body, quickly stepping away from the group and latching your arms around Kentoâs neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He didnât hesitate to close his strong arms around your frame, fitting right into the slots they used to fill. His familiar scent filled your senses, memories flooding back in an instant.
âHuh, speak of the devil,â Gojo mumbled.
âHim? That was her boyfriend?â
Gojo quickly snapped out of it. âLetâs give them some privacy, shall we,â and started rushing away the nosy teens.
Kentoâs grip loosened and you pulled away, but neither of you dared let your hands leave each other. Your own hands ended up cupping his face, forcing him to keep his eyes on you until it hit you he was actually with you again â he let his rest on your waist, feeling the restlessness in him by how strongly his palms were pressing against you.
He was here. He was actually here.
There was a deafening silence filling the space of your office. You could feel it in the tension that both of you wanted to say something, but there was an unspoken pressure of saying the right thing.
So you let your eyes roam him, taking in the differences in his appearance.
He was gorgeous, same subtle handsomeness as he had always possessed, but a new confidence displaying it. Everything about him was more defined, sharp features drawing attention to his face, his muscles filling his shirt in a way they never did before.
âSo, you and Gojo seem to work well together,â he swallowed, causing embarrassment to flush your face when he pulled you from your blatant admiring.
âWeâve found a rhythm that works for us, I suppose,â you shrugged.
He shifted awkwardly in his seat, arms flexing as he crossed them in front of him. âThatâs good. Iâm glad.â His tone of his short statements seemed to imply otherwise.
âHeâs surprisingly good at his job,â you laughed, âthe kids like him.â
âWho would have thought,â there was a pull of his lips, like he tried to smile but it didnât succeed entirely.
âNot me, thatâs for sure. I donât know, he just meets them were their at.â You really wanted to stop rambling about Gojo. It was so clearly just a desperate way for you to replace the quiet that plagued you without touching the elephant in the room. âDonât get me wrong, they find him insufferable, but I think they secretly really like him. Much like the rest of us.â
âSounds about right.â
You squinted at him, slowly growing somewhat antsy. âYouâre not jealous of Gojo, are you?â
Of course you still saw right through him. He, who usually managed to hide his true feelings, would never be able to conceal them from you. And he was jealous, petrified that he had made the biggest mistake of his life and Gojo had ended up taking the place that was supposed to be for him only.
âIs there something to be jealous of?â
âYou tell me.â
The tension was thick, nearly suffocating, years of yearning and pining fuelling the energy. The reunion only served as a dangerous spark that threatened to set the fuse ablaze at any second.
Why couldnât he take the first step? He was the one who had showed up all of a sudden, and he still hadnât given you any explanation. He owed you that much, right? But he kept letting his restlessness control him, one leg bouncing quietly against the floor, hearing how the cogs in his mind were turning.
âWhy are you here?â
Your words were soft, but Kento knew you well enough to know the true feelings that lingered in the question.
âIâm coming back.â
âYouâre coming back?â You werenât able to withhold the bite that was slowly making its way into your tone.
âOnly if youâre comfortable with it.â
âDonât do that,â your voice threatened to crack. âI donât want that responsibility.â
He sighed deeply, unfolding his arms to rest his elbows on his spread knees. âThat wasnât my intention. Iâm sorry.â
Always so polite. Always acknowledging his faults before they had the opportunity to grow. Always so damn righteous.
âWhat I meant to say is it looks like youâve really managed to establish yourself here, and I wouldnât want to come in and cause any discomfort by intruding what is essentially your space.â
The sound that escaped you next was a mixture between a flat laugh and a scoff, not entirely appreciating the way he was behaving. âHave we been apart so long you canât talk to me like Iâm your best friend?â
That had him look up at you, meeting your eyes instantly. You were sad, visible on your entire demeanour â maybe not to the average person looking, but he saw, still able to read you like an open book.
âHope not,â he tried to smile, lips formed into a tight line that exposed how nervous he really was. His attention shifted to look at his fists folded together, words resting on his tongue, he just wanted to be sure it came out right. âIâve missed you.â Silence. âThere hasnât been a day where you havenât crossed my mind.â
âSounds familiar.â There was no hiding the flush crawling up his neck and colouring the tips of his ears red at the sound of your confession.
âIt was the thought of you that finally convinced me.â
âWhy now?â
âBecause enough time should have passed for you to thrive without me.â
âIf thatâs the case, youâll have to keep waiting.â
You had him gagged, no clue how to respond. For some reason, he had refused to believe you were still hung up on him the way he was. There werenât any reason for you to hold onto the idea of him â yet you had, for dear life.
Abruptly you stood up from your chair, hands running through your hair in frustration, trying to make sense of his sudden visit.
You stopped in your pacing, back faced him and hands on your hips â then he saw your shoulders begin to shake, followed by stifled sobs. These were the situations he always used to know what to do, moving on autopilot to bring you the comfort you needed.
Did his hands remember how to soothe you? Did his voice still know how to form the right words to say? Did his presence still know how to envelope you until you felt happy again? There was only one way to find out.
Quickly stepping over to you, his hands hovered over your shoulders for a second in fear. He swallowed his selfishness and let them land to settle the bouncing, leaning his head forward to rest it against the back of yours, the smell of your shampoo surrounding him.
âIâm sorry,â he whispered and it only seemed like his apology opened the valve, no longer able to choke your sobs. Your hands left your hips to cover your face, muffling the sadness tumbling out in one stream.
âIâm sorry. Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry,â he continued to mutter, head moving to press it to the side of your face. One hand traveled across your collarbone, the other around your waist to pull you as close to him as possible, determined to hold you there until he was absolutely certain you were okay.
He would stand there the whole night if he needed to.
Slowly but surely, your sobs came to a stop, your trembling eventually easing against his body. But he didnât loosen his grip, not until he felt you shift in his arms to face him.
Cry painted cheeks, delicate red rim around your eyes, glossy irises that stared right into the deepest parts of him that only you had access to.
Everything started to fall back into place, his big hand cupping your cheek as he stroked your hair out of your face. He let his eyes dart delicately across your face, taking in every single detail.
Then he let his longing get the best of him, thumb graciously tracing your bottom lip turned swollen from when you tried to swallow your sobs.
There was slight hesitation while he leaned forward, never having experienced time moving as slow as you waited for his lips to connect with yours. First, he let his nose brush against yours, testing the waters.
Please.
You felt his breath.
Donât make me wait any longer.
Sparks.
Soft lips pressed against yours, moving tenderly in unison that sent intense sparks through your body from head to toe. The moment easily surpassed any of the fantasies youâd had of kissing him.
Needy fingers traveled up his broad chest before hooking your arms around his neck, pulling him closer â it still didnât feel close enough.
Kento poured everything he had always wanted to say into the kiss â and he knew you understood. If he had learned anything from everything you had been through together, it was he could always trust you were able to understand him completely, even without anything being said.
When you pulled away you found yourself breathless. Meeting his eyes again, unexpected shyness you werenât used to experience with Kento had you hide your face in his chest.
The roles had reversed, his warm chuckle serving as a comforting blanket. Oh, how you had missed that melody.
âTook you long enough,â you mumbled, hoping the teasing would have your normal confidence return.
His finger found your chin to tilt your head up, capturing your gaze. âYeah, I should have done it ages ago.â
The previous sadness still lingered, and it was evident you still had a lot to talk about. But right now it was nice to just wallow in his presence again. It was way overdue, feeling like it should have been like this since forever.
âI really am sorry.â
âI think I can find it in myself to forgive you.â Your innocent jab was received with a dashing smile, tingles spreading throughout your limbs at the sight.
âHope so, sweetheart,â he breathed quietly before he leaned in again.
They sat staring at each other, Kento with a raised eyebrow while a grumpy Gojo was positioned on the couch opposite him, legs and arms crossed in annoyance.
âYou used to be nice.â
Kento scoffed at his colleagueâs childish behaviour. âI still am, youâre just upset youâre not getting it your way.â
âBut why?â Gojo cried dramatically.
âWhy? What do you mean why? Because itâs not your wedding.â
âWere you always this boring?â
âMost definitely.â
âWill you guys please shut up?â You interrupted, unable to ignore them anymore. You had desperately tried to block them out as you were doing some paperwork you should have done ages ago.
âHe started it!â Gojo pointed at Kento, which only had him roll his eyes.
âYou know what,â you sighed as you gathered your stuff and raised from behind the desk. âItâs with a heavy heart I leave you, but I need to get this done by the end of the day.â You stopped behind Kento, placing a hand on his shoulder.
âSorry, honey,â he said genuinely as he gazed up at you lovingly.
âI am not asking for much-â Gojo continued to argue before you interrupted him.
âWill you pay for it?â
âIs that all itâll take?â He beamed, and you nodded. âOf course! Done! How much do you need?â
âYouâre too lenient when it comes to him,â Kento sighed.
âItâs not the craziest thing he could request. Heâll get his endless supply of sweets, and you wonât have to listen to his obnoxious nagging anymore.â
âIâm sitting right here.â Both you and Kento ignored him.
âI really have to get this work done though,â you sighed, hand squeezing his shoulder.
âSee you at home?â His loving smile had you lean down to press your lips tenderly against his.
âSee you at home.â
âIâll have dinner ready.â
âGod, I love you.â
Then he flashed you that smile â the smile which was reserved solely as a response whenever you said those three words he used to dream of hearing from you.
It was funny really, how after everything things would turn out exactly how he as always wanted them to. Despite the hopelessness he had felt and all the pain you had endured â both together and apart â would eventually lead up to the happy ending he had dreamed of since the young age of five.
He knew he would do it all over again, in every universe, if it ensured this outcome.
âI love you too.â
tags @sad-darksoul @toadtoru
an anon, i am so sorry if this ended up longer than you wanted it. idk what happened, bc it just kept on snowballing <3 however, i am very touched you wanted me to do this request. warms my heart. hope it turned out okay mwah also, if you've read my satoru childhood friends to lovers fic and see any similarities, no you don't comments and reblogs is much appreciated
©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited
#â àŹ my creative corner#dividers by enchanthings#jjk#jjk oneshot#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen oneshot#jujutsu kaisen x reader#kento nanami#kento nanami oneshot#kento nanami x reader#nanami kento#nanami#jjk nanami#nanami x reader#nanami oneshot#jjk kento nanami#jujutsu nanami#kento x reader
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What instrument do you play??
Hello, new friend! I'm first and foremost a pianist -- I've been playing since I was six, so almost seventeen years now. I'm also a decent guitarist, though I mostly stick to pop songs.
#anon#ask#amy rambles#i also took three years' worth of violin lessons#i never got far beyond the most basic basics though#so that knowledge is helpful for composition purposes but not much else#also i'm the proud owner of a clarinet#and i figured out how to play a little bit of girl from ipanema by ear#but yeah beyond that i know nothing about clarinet#i'll eventually try to get back into violin#you know#when i'm settled and have the money to get myself a decent instrument and some lessons#hopefully i'll get to do the same for clarinet too
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Between The Lines
Summary-> It's the little things that go on behind the scenes between you and Drew that makes your chemistry electric.
Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series
These can be read in any order!
"Park place." Maddison narrates where Drew lands his dog piece across the monopoly board. "I'll buy it." He says but your hand is in his face, "Not so fast. I'm sure you would love to buy it if I didn't already have a hotel on it. You owe me $1500. Pay up." You show him your open palm, ready for lots and lots of cash.
"He's so cooked. Look at that pathetic stack of cash Drew has. I've got piggy banks with more than that." Jonathan's comments send the four of you erupting into a fit of laughter which eventually dies down to a patient silence. "Sometime today would be great." Madison clears her throat.
"Josh is coming!" Drew points, appealing to your gullibility and you all fell for it. By the time you realized he was bluffing, the board was tossed and the pieces were all out of place. He gets up and runs off as if he already knew you'd be hot on his heels.
Your outburts left JD and Madison alone to pick up the pieces, but not without an interesting conversation. "50 bucks they're together by the time we finish the season." Madison says it so casually as she reaches underneath the couch for the pieces.
"So I'm not crazy? You see it too?" He looks almost relieved. "Trust me, I've got a knack for these things." JD seems skeptical about the timeline of the bet. "I dunno, we finish filming in four months. That might be too soon, I say by the premiere."
The both of them look up to Carlacia who seemed to have been streaming live on her istagram. She enters the room mumbling something about getting winded by you and Drew sprinting past her.
Madison scoffs, "That's like nine months from now. They could get together and break up by then, but you know what-- If that's what you wanna bet, then be my guest." She holds out her hand and JD shakes on it. "You're on."
"We're ready for you guys." One of the assistants notifys them that it was time to head to the screening room where the weekly table reads were held.
Today would be your first look at the script for the second episode, and to say you were shocked was an understatement.
Script Summary:
Eventually the pogues put their trust in Piper and she gives them a fair exchange of some arms that they can handle, while she opts for her weapon of choice, a steel pipe.
"How do you think I got the name and the scar?" She says and it puts an odd sense of comfort among the group, minus a skeptical Rafe, to know you were confident enough in your skills that you didn't need a gun.
They beleived they were in good hands, until they realized they weren't. There was movement coming from the bushes and it made the pogues stand on guard, beckoning them to come out. Soon, the figures finally revealed themsleves. More mercenaries.
"Nicely, done Piper. It seems you can still make yourself useful after all." The red-headed woman speaks up, tossing you a pouch of money that you caught with one hand effortlessly.
"Never doubt my capabilities, it's insulting." You warn, tucking the pouch into the bag strapped across your back. The british woman continues, "Y'know, Mr. Finch could use your talents again. Once we're done tying up loose ends, we're headed back to home base in Lisbon."
Rafe is livid. He knew he couldn't trust you. It couldn't be by pure coincidence that the mercenaries popped up in the middle of this oasis when you were leading. "Lisbon? You told us Finch was here-" Kiara exclaims and Rafe interrupts.
"It was all a lie, from the very beginning. Mr. Alami, the merchant from Agapenta, he was working with you, wasn't he? You knew he'd send us to you, and now you got your sad little payout from these dipshits for bringing us to them." Rafe seethes.
"I'll neither confirm nor deny that claim, love the enthusiasm though." Your attitude remains unbothered throughout the ordeal until Pope demands, "What do you want from us? We don't have the crown! Groff took it." The red head shrugs casually, sharpening her blades as she approaches the group.
"Don't you worry, Groff will get what's coming to him. For now, it's time to repay the debt that is owed. You get blood on your hands, I get blood on mine." Your eyes bulge, "Hang on, you never said you wanted to kill them." You step in and the woman pays you no mind.
"Perhaps because It's none of your concern. You've got your cut, now's a good time as ever to leave. It's about to get messy." She retracts her hand, about to plunge the blade into Pope when she's knocked out cold by a flying piece of steel.
The group looks over to you in shock, fear, and a hint of gratitude, but there's no time to gush about it when there's suddenly a brawl that breaks out between the mercenaries and the pogues.
You all hardly take them out before escaping.
"Piper, what the hell?!" John B yells and his anger is heavily agreed on in the group, you take it on the chin before offering the most sincere apology you could come up with. They're unconvinced. "I deserve that. Everything you heard back there is true. Finch's Fortress is in Lisbon. If you find him, you'll find Groff," You trail off, reaching into your bag, handing Cleo the pouch of money you'd just gotten.
"Take this. It's more than enough to get you a boat big enough to get across the atlantic and even have some leftover for food for a few days. When you arrive on the coast of Cascais, you'll need to head north in-land."
There's silence.
A long silence, nervous glances between the pogues and Rafe's eyes roll. "You guys cannot seriously be considering trusting her. She almost had us killed! Am I the only one who cares about making it back home?"
"Just shut up, Rafe!" John B silences him, and Pope speaks up. "Listen, I don't know about you guys but Piper just saved my life when she didn't have to. We've already lost someone. Going after Groff could be a suicide missison for all we know. But we all know this isn't about our safety, it's about revenge. For JJ." His speech is moving, the expressions agree.
"For JJ." They all agree.
"To Lisbon we go." Cleo chimes, and the group moves on.
End of Script*
You had just finished reading the script and you were blown away. The cast never knows what to expect whenevfer a new script is dropped in front of them.
"Wait a minute... If the pogues are going to Lisbon in the next episode then," Madison trails off and the director ties in, "So are we. Pack your bags, flights are booked for Saturday morning at 5am, please do not miss these flights, we're not opposed to writing you out!" Josh jokes and there's excited and shock all around the table.
You knew that the last season of the show had implied that the pogues would be on their way to Lisbon but it never dawned on you that it would be so soon, even though it made sense.
"You ever been to Portugal?" Drew leans in, a soft whisper in your ear tickled your skin and made the hairs on the back of your neck at attention. "Never, have you?" He thinks about it, "If a layover counts then yes, yes I have." You're not sure if the joke was funny or if it just left the mouth of an incredibly attractive man, nonetheless, it made you giggle.
Madison kicks JD from under the table, jutting her chin towards the two of you giggling in secret and he rolls his eyes. "Patience." He says it calmly, but Madison is impatient, she knows she'll reign triumphant by the end of it all.
-
Itâs a Friday nightâor, more accurately, the early hours of Saturday morning. The world outside your accommodations complex is still cloaked in sleep, and you should be too. But no. The responsibility of making your flight in two hours has ripped you from the warmth of your bed. Groggy but determined, you scrambled to gather your belongings, knowing you wouldnât be back.
After a last sweep of the room, you opened the door with a flicker of confidenceâonly to jump at the sight of a six-foot-two figure standing in your doorway.
âDrew! Oh my god, you scared me.â Your hand flew to your chest in a theatrical gesture, your pulse thrumming in your ears.
A small smile tugged at his lips, his eyes crinkling slightly. âSorry. Just wanted to make sure you were actually up. Everyone else already left. Thereâs one driver still waiting downstairs.â His voice was smooth, annoyingly easy to listen to this early in the morning. Too easy.
âYou sound oddly refreshed for 3 a.m.,â you quipped, your own voice still husky from sleep as you grabbed your suitcase.
âThatâs the beauty of insomnia.â He shrugged, gesturing to his temples with a finger like it was some kind of genius life hack. âYou canât wake up tired if you never really sleep.â
The elevator dinged open, and the two of you stepped inside. The silence that settled was heavy, charged with something you couldnât quite define. It hung there until you both spoke at once:
âSo where are youââ âHow did youââ
You broke into quiet laughter, and Drewâs mouth twitched with amusement. âYou first,â he said, giving you a slight nod.
âHow did you know I hadnât already left with the others?â you asked, tilting your head curiously. For a moment, something flickered across his faceâan emotion too quick to nameâbefore a light blush dusted his cheeks. He masked it with an easy tone.
âI did some askin' around,â he replied, the answer short and almost vague. It was just enough to spark your teasing instincts.
âAh,â you said with a smirk, âso you missed me?â
Instant regret settled within you. The elevator seemed too small, too still as Drew turned to look at you, his gaze steady and disarming. For a heartbeat, he didnât respond, and your cheeks grew warm under his stare.
âYou could say that,â he finally said, the ghost of a smirk curling the corner of his lips. His attention shifted to the elevator doors as they slid open, leaving you to wonder if youâd imagined the whole thing.
The ride to the airport was longer than expected thanks to roadwork that forced a detour. You should've been annoyed, but at some point, your head found its way to Drewâs shoulder, and your eyes fluttered shut. The fabric of his hoodie was soft against your temple, and his warmth lulled you into a half-dream state.
Drew didnât dare move. The weight of your head against him was almost too perfect, and he fought the sudden urge to reach for your hand resting on your lap. Instead, he focused on the ticking clock in the back of his mind and the quiet hum of the car.
When you arrived, he sprang into action. âCâmon, we donât have time to waste,â he murmured, grabbing your suitcase and his carry-on in one hand while ushering you toward the terminal with the other.
You barely had to lift a finger. Drew handled everythingâtickets, baggage check, even navigating customsâwith practiced efficiency, his jaw set and his movements quick. He wasnât just organized; he was determined.
âDo you always walk as fast as a drill sergeant?â you teased as you reached the gate, breathing a little easier now.
He shot you a look, his lips twitching. âI'm not a huge fan of being late,â was all he said. But the way his eyes lingered on yours for half a second longer than necessary told you there was more to it than that.
Finally, you made it to your seats in first class. You settled across the aisle from Madelyn, who flashed you a bright smile.
âI was starting to think you two wouldnât make it,â she teased, leaning toward you with a glint in her eye. There was an underlying subtext to her words but you were too tired to decipher it.
âDrew made sure that didnât happen,â you replied with a soft laugh. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth you couldnât quite suppress.
From behind your seat, Drew caught the sound of his name on your lips--and god did he love the way it sounds. He didnât know what youâd said, but it didnât matter. The fact that you were talking about him stirred something in his chest.
As the flight began, you glanced back once, meeting his gaze. He held it for a fraction of a moment before looking away, his expression unreadable.
And yet, for the rest of the flight, he couldnât stop thinking about you. Couldnât stop replaying the memory of the weight of your head on his shoulderâor wondering what it might feel like to hold your hand in his.
Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x you#rafe cameron smut#rafe drabble#outer banks smut#rafe obx#outer banks imagines#rafe smut#rafe cameron blurb#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe blurb#rafe cameron imagine#rafe fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#bsf!rafe#rafe cameron drabble#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron fic#drew starkey smut#drew starkey#obx fic#outer banks#outerbanks rafe#obx#rafe cameron angst#light angst#obx angst
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Daddy's Girl.
Step Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)
A/N: Don't like? Don't read! Either way, READ THE TAGS. I'm starting to get pretty weird on this blog, so expect more stuff like this! A girl has to feed her fetishes, so feel free to tag along with me and enjoy what my sick little mind thinks up. Thanks for reading!
Tags: stepcest, step-dad/step-daughter relationship, cream pie, daddy issues, use of "baby girl" and "daddy's girl," daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), swearing, infidelity, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex, LARGE AGE GAP (legal), 2nd person POV
Word count: 2.1k
As far as your mother was concerned, your father was worth less than the sum of his parts. He was fleeting idea, a mere concept in both of your lives ever since you could remember. Sure, you remembered a few odd Christmases with a surplus of gifts, all tagged "from Daddy," and a few daddy-daughter dates here and there, but that wasn't enough to make up for his true absence.Â
It wasn't a surprise when your mom eventually left him, scooping you up with her. Just you and her, and the rare postcard that your sperm-donor decided to ship off once a year or so. It was good enough then when it was just you two finding your way in the world, but it went downhill when your mom found a new boy toy.Â
Leon.
He wasn't a bad guy, by any means. Wasn't pushy, didn't make you call him "dad" or try to impose his will onto you, but his presence made the absence of your real father that much more obvious. You tried to ignore him for the most part, letting your mom have her little relationship with him to tide her over.Â
But then they got married. Leon became a more permanent fixture. That was no bueno.Â
You toughened it out, being cordial with him until you finally hit that mark of independence: sweet, sweet 18! The big one-eight, your ticket to freedom!Â
Everything was planned out for your big day. Mom and Leon made a cake, presents were given, and all birthday wishes granted, except for one. What you really wanted, was for your dad to show up for just this one day, just this once, to have him and not just his money.Â
You could never get that lucky, though, and that thought was cemented in your head when you found yourself waiting for him outside of your house. The driveway was empty, not even your mom's car was out there, she still had to head off to work. The world couldn't pause for a birthday girl, it seemed.
Stepping back inside to the house, you slammed the door behind you, practically throwing yourself onto the leather couch in the living room. The tears started faster than you could contain them, and quite honestly, you didn't want to contain them. It was your party, damn it, and you would cry if you wanted to!
"You okay, kid? I heard the door-"
Fuck. Him.
Leon's heavy footsteps made their way down the stairs, leading to his place in front of you. "(Y/N), are you crying?"
You sucked back a breath of air, steadying yourself as much as you could before speaking.Â
"No, 'm not, just-- go, just leave me alone." You let your face drop into your hands, staining your sleeves with tears.
Leon, being just the right amount of pushy, took a steps next to you a placed his hand on your shoulder. "Can we talk about it? I mean, I probably know what it is, but we could- you could say whatever you need to say." His face cringed a bit at his own words, feeling like he was already fucking this up. "No judgement."
You kept your face covered but obliged, knowing that talking about it, even with Leon, would make you feel a little better.
"My dad isn't here. He's been promising for weeks that he'd show, but he isn't here."
"Oh."
Your step-dad bit his lip trying to figure out how to make you feel better. He knew you weren't exactly fond of him, but he felt a twinge of responsibility.
"Fuck 'em," Leon finally decided on. "He's a liar and you don't need him. So, fuck 'em. Why would you want a deadbeat to bring you down on your special day?"Â
"Because, he's my dad," you said, like it was the most obvious thing. He was right, of course, but the absence still hurt you.
"No dad would stand up a sweet girl like you on her birthday. You only turn 18 once. A real dad wouldn't miss a birthday this monumental for anything. What's he worth, if he can't keep to his word?"
"I guess nothing." You sat up straighter, trying to make yourself calm down. "D'ya think it's, like, my fault? Why doesn't he want to see me?"
He suddenly got really serious, making his grip on your shoulder firm.
"Not at all. You are a wonderful girl. Your mom thinks so, and so do I. You are brilliantly smart, kind, responsible, sweet, gorgeous-- you're perfect and if that scumbag can't see that, then he's beyond saving."Â
He loosened his grip, letting his hand fall down to your lap, a bit close to the crotch of your jeans. You didn't look down, trying to convince yourself it was an accident, but he didn't move his hand either.
His other hand came up to your face, holding your cheek and to your own surprise, you leaned into his hand. His big, calloused, confronting hand.
Fuck him.
Something snapped in you when he leaned in for a kiss. God, it was wrong, so wrong, but you were so conflicted. Is this what a father's love really felt like? Hell if you knew, this was close enough in your book.
"Hmph-! Leon..." You pulled away from the kiss, wiping at your mouth roughly to get rid of the salvia strings connecting the both of you. "This is wrong, this isn't okay, my mom-"
"Is not here."Â
He placed another kiss on your lips, this one chaste and sweet, so unlike the passionate one you shared before.Â
"Just you and me. I know your dad isn't here, but I am. Let me make up for him, baby." His whispers pricked goosebumps over your body, lighting a fire deep in you. "Let daddy love you. Can I show you?"
His big hand looked nearly comical resting against the small button of your jeans, pawing desperately at them. So, so, so wrong. So fucked up, so not okay, so....
"Yes," you said breathily. "Okay, I-I want you to show me. Just be careful please, 'cause.." you trailed off a bit, feeling the pop of your pants opening.Â
Leon yanked them down, tossing them away quickly. "Fuck, that's good," he said, pressing his tongue flatly on your mound through your panties.Â
The fabric slowly grew a wet patch that clung to you, getting sticky. He placed a soft kiss on your clothed clit, then rested his head on your soft thigh.
"Anybody ever touch you here?" he asked, running a finger over your pussy.Â
You softly shook your head, mumbling out a 'no.'
"Mm, more for daddy, yeah? Gonna make you feel so good," he said, slipping your panties to the slide. His mouth made quick work, tongue already gliding up and down on your clit.Â
Your face was already twisting up in pleasure, eyebrows knitting together tightly.
"That's cute," he blew cool air over your cunt, keeping his eyes on your face. "You like it? My mouth all over you like this?"
"Mhm, please- don't stop. I wanna feel it again."Â
You reached your hand out to hold his head, wanting to push it down before bringing your hand back nervously.
"That's right, push my head down if you want. 'M here to make you feel good, so you use me. Just a wet mouth for you today, sweet girl."
You nodded eagerly, running your hands through his blond hair and taking taking firm purchase of a section of it. Your hands greedily pushed his face into your cunt. The feeling of his nose rubbing against your clit while his tongue dug into your tight hole made you feel fuzzy inside.
Leon was so vulgar with his noises; he almost enjoyed it more than you were. Slurp after slurp came from his mouth, accompanied by a moan or two while he tried to get himself off by palming himself through his pants.Â
The sight of him was just as good as the feeling of him. You had never been taken care of so thoroughly. Leon was opening a whole new world to you, a world where you could be selfish and take, because your daddy would provide, no questions asked.
"Lemme try somethin', yeah, baby?"
He shook your hand off and spat directly on your clit, spreading the fat glob with his fingers. Tight, fast circles were traced over your bud, back and forth. It felt like hypnosis, the way he reeled your body in closer to an orgasm.Â
"Daddy, please, 'm gonna cum," you said, face flushing of all color. "Your mouth, want your mouth," you shot out quickly, already obsessed with the feeling of his hot mouth tonguing you down.
He obliged, of course. How could he turn his princess down? Leon's lips again wrapped around your clit, sucking on the bud like it gave him life.Â
You came soon after. You seized and convulsed and the feeling of his eyes taking you in made the waves of pleasure crash down that much harder over your body.Â
"If he knew what a sweet fucking pussy you had," Leon said, licking a final stripe over it, "he'd never wanna leave."
"Wha--?"
"I said," Leon pulled away from your pussy, lifting his head to your ear, "that even your dad would wanna be tongue deep in your sweet, tight cunt. But it's all mine, isn't it?"
The sound of his belt unbuckling made you wetter, if that was possible, but it also sent a sense of realization through you.
You had your pussy in your step dad's mouth. And you liked it. And now, you would let him fuck you. And you would love it.Â
"I know you're a virgin, but fuck, baby, you're so tight." His voice was grumbly and strained while he tried to push into you. "Maybe I need to eat you up a little more," he teased.
"No, I need you inside, wanna feel it now." You let yourself go completely. Here you were, whining like a brat while Leon's fat cock stretched you. The pain with sharp, but immediately worth it. He fit inside perfectly, easily hitting your sensitive spots with a few thrusts.
He hissed, feeling you clamp down on his length. "Shh, come on, gotta get used to it baby. Don't want me to cum too quick, do you?"
"Yes, I do," you whined, desperate to know for certain that you were making him feel good too.Â
Leon's laugh softly rang in your ears. "No, I wanna make it worth your time. Wish I could take you all night long," he muttered, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.Â
He swallowed all of your moans, slipping his tongue into your mouth while he rocked into you. He tried to find a rhythm, but he was too lost in pleasure to be neat about it.Â
He'd fuck you nice and orderly another day, but for now? He just wanted to feel you gush around him, and feel your cunt get sloppy while he took you.
Your breathless moans caught his attention. He found the angle that made you get oldest and stuck with it, lifting your hips up with his hands so he could piston into your g-spot.
"Oh my god, right there! That feels-- oh my god."
"I know, baby," he said, thumbs digging into your hipbones. "Feels good f'me too. You're so good for daddy."
Your heart, and cunt, pounded the more he spoke. You were close and you knew it, you just needed him to keep talking you through it. "I am?"
"Yes, baby, you're perfect. Daddy's perfect little princess, taking my cock so good." His cock twitched, so he clenched his jaw, refusing to cum before you did. "You know what good girls get to do?"
"Hmph?" Your face was red and hot, mouth hanging open while he continued to fuck into your spongey walls.
"They cum hard on daddy's cock. Can you do that for me? Cum all on me?" He traced his hand over your cheek, letting his thumb land on your bottom lip while he egged you on.
Your body had never reacted faster, immediately creaming on his length. Your hole milked him, each contraction gripping his length and sucking the cum right out of him.Â
Leon let a shaky breath out before pulling out of you, scooping the mixture of your cum in his fingers. He rubbed it between two fingers for a moment and popped it into his mouth, groaning at the taste.
You came down from your own high and looked over at him, feeling guilt pull at your chest.
"Leon."
"Hm?"
"What about mom? She's gonna freak if she ever finds out. Did we fuck up? What's gonna--"
"Hey," he said, shushing you with his finger over your lips. "She's not gonna find out and she doesn't need to know. I might be married to her, and I get why you're stressed, but what we have is different."
He pulled his finger off of your mouth and pressed a kiss to your forehead cheekily. "You're daddy's girl. That makes you special."
#barleyxnighteye#smutfic#x reader#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy#resident evil x reader#smut#tw: stepcest#tw stepcest#stepcest cw#dead dove do not eat#Stepdad! Leon Kennedy
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Hiii! Can you make general Sylus HCs?? Fluff ones though! YOURE LIKE A BREATH OF FRESH AIR OMG LIKEEEE THE FLUFF MAKES MY HEART SIMPLY M E L T !
Sylus Headcanons- Love And DeepSpace
a/n: omg anon you're so sweet thank you so much âĄÂŽïœ„áŽïœ„`⥠i hope you'll like this and i hope this is okay!! <3
any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy! <3
genre: fluff fluff
âïœĄâ§ËÊâĄÉËâ§ïœĄâ
General Headcanons ËËË
This man is big everywhere. If you have or seen the memory of Within Reach you know what I'm talking about. Since he has quite a large build in height and muscle, he probably has trouble finding clothing in his size in store. Sleeves would be too short or pants would be too tight so often he would have to get them tailored but it's fine because he has all the money in the world.
This man is 6'2. Since he's tall, mirrors can cut off your head or usually shower heads are mounted too low so he would have to crouch down often. But later on he took down any small mirrors and adjusted the shower to his height for his liking.
Would try to eat a healthy balance meal 3 times a day unless work got in the way. He also probably has the best skincare routine ever. He would have cleanser, toner, serum, moisturizer, and different types of sunscreens for morning or even at night.
In Tender Curve, he mentions he's there to feed a cat. Whenever he has the time he'll leave cat food outside for any strays. He has no time to take care of any pets and also Mephisto would squawk at him nonstop with jealously.
He probably thought he would never sing in his life until Luke and Kieran 'pestered' him to try it out in the karaoke room. He thought why not he had nothing else to do. He would lose track of time due to Luke and Kieran cheering him on. So if being the Onychinus's Leader never works out he figures he can be an idol in the future.
The type to accept any business as long as it's near your location whether it work or you have things to do in that area. How would he know your location? You would have your location posted on your moments and sometimes Luke and Kieran talk about you a lot. He would use any business matter to talk to you and ask if you can help him with any errands.
Relationship Headcanons ËËË âĄ ËËË
Sometimes he'll let Mephisto spy on you and update him on what you like to eat so he can learn how to cook it for you when he doesn't have the personal chef around. He likes trying new recipes and you are always there to try them or help him make it. Would love it when you would hug him behind while he's in the kitchen cooking or the other way around.
Not super big on PDA especially in the N109 zone but will do gestures like his hand on your lower back or his arm around your waist. But in private he would be a lot more affectionate. In the car, he loves having one of his hands intertwined with yours as it rests on your lap while his other hand is on the wheel. Lots of forehead kisses. Sometimes would tease you because of your height difference and make you try to reach him to kiss him on his lips. Eventually he'll crouch down to kiss you after watching you struggle.
If anything were to upset you, he'll always be there to listen and to comfort you. He'll hold your hand or wrap and arm around your waist, rubbing soothing small circles reassuring you on whatever the issue is or helping you find a solution to whatever the problem is. If it was anyone that bothered you, they might want to sleep with one eye open.
He's also kinda silly. When you walk in his bathroom while he's shaving, he'll put some of the cream on your nose because he thinks your reaction would be funny.
Would always have an outfit to have for you to match with him in a business meeting. But if you wanted a different outfit he would find something to match with you that way everyone knows that you two are together.
He's extremely thoughtful. He remembers even the smallest details you have mentioned to him. He'll always find the perfect gift to give you on anniversaries or birthdays.
What's his becomes yours. You want his clothes even though they might be too big for you? Take the whole closet. He'll find his clothing in your fitting quite adorable actually. He'll even give you keys to his armory, he has many so choose whatever you want. He even let's you have Luke and Kieran as your henchmen too as long as he gets to have them back for work.
#sylus x reader#sylus x y/n#sylus x you#sylus lads#sylus love and deepspace#love and deepspace sylus#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace#love and deepspace fic#lads x you#lads x reader#lads#lads scenarios#love and deepspace scenarios#lads fic
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soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader
pt. 1 - pt. 2 - next
synopsis: Toji takes up dog-sitting for you and learns to appreciate his new job, in more ways than one.
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Time came and went with Tojiâs frequent dog sitting. Despite the workhorse owner seemingly never being home, the dog appeared well cared for and happy.  The place became a second home for the man. On one particular 8:00 oâclock morning, he found a long note⊠and a hundred dollars.
âMr. Fushiguro, we will be getting lots of rain this week, I canât ask you to walk him like you usually would but if itâs not too much trouble, please just take him outside and let him go to the bathroom. Iâve got a raincoat in the closet by the garage, a towel for the dog, and umbrellas by the door, please utilize whatever. There are towels for you in the guest bath, I will do the laundry when I get home, please just toss them on the floor.â â y/n Â
Toji had never seen a dog so thrilled to be out in the rain. A scoff shook Toji when he found the raincoat. There was no universe where it would've fit him. The dog bounded to the door and sat patiently for Toji to open the umbrella.
It had been painfully humid that day, the rain was torrential, and he was drenched, even with the umbrella. He normally wouldnât use someone else's shower and he rarely ever did in his previous line of work.
Back then he learned that using his client's utilities gave them the strange impression that they were more than a couple bucks to him. He liked to avoid messes like that and preferred his own (much smaller) shower anyway.
Even so, when the dog and he made it back, the pristine floors and counters stuck out more than ever. He would have to be at the house for a while that day, he figured he should probably clean himself.
If it werenât for the loving pooch, the place would look unlived in. It was strange to think that before Toji got there and after he left anyone occupied the space at all.
The shower had been better than heâd ever remembered having. He tossed the towels in the wash and waited around. Toji was making more and more, working back-to-back days and he had learned to expect the apology text,
âIâm so sorry, I won't be making it back tonight, can you stay till 10?â
Toji always responded by liking the message. Their text logs looked like a line of grey text with numerous âthumbs upâ reactions. Â
Eventually, the day came when he did not have a note on the counter. The first day where there was a sign of life in the house, a mess. The dog had been anxiously circling Toji when he arrived. Tissues on the counter, trash not taken out, fridge empty, and what really stuck out to him, no money.
Toji couldnât care less about how the owner lived, but if he was promised pay, he expected pay. No matter how generous the owner had been in the past. He knew it had been an honest mistake when he texted for the first time in weeks.
âHey. Dog looks good. Were you planning on going to the bank this morning?â
It took a while for him to get a response but when he finally did, they came in quick succession.
âOh my goshâ
âMr. Fushiguro, I am so sorry!!â
âI promise it wasnât intentional, Iâll be back early tonight, donât worry about feeding him dinner, Iâll Zelle you for today and tomorrow.â
He hadnât been upset or anything. The owner had been more than lavish with their money, Toji has never been so flush with cash from so little labor. That thought was what caused him to respond,
âNo worries.â Â
Toji arrived the next morning and for the first time, was met withâŠ. Nothing? Usually, the dog was quick with its futile tackle attempts. Not today I guess Toji thought.
Toji called for the dog and he came running; just not in the way he usually did. Toji noticed immediately, the whining, the huffing, the wiggling, and the ever-constant pushing at his thigh.
âWhat? What is it, boy?â Toji asks.
The dog let out a particularly loud cry and ran back to the master bedroom. Toji looked around the kitchen, the first room from the foyer he entered. No note on the counter. But what he did find was a half-full glass of water, a ramekin with a cocktail of pills, and an iPhone with a silent alarm on the lock screen. An alarm was set for 5:42. It was 8:17.
The frantic dog rushed back to find Toji at the kitchen counter with the phone in his hand. He whimpered, nudging Toji with his face. It didnât take long for the dog to practically drag Toji by the pantleg to the master bedroom.
âWhat? What?â Toji was looking around the room to see what had the big guy so agitated. It would be a lie to say Toji hadnât done some snooping around the house. He'd wanted to see how the lavish owner lived. It's fair to say that he had never seen the bedroom look soâŠdisrupted. Toji came around the bed where a potentially human-sized lump lay under a pile that consisted of sheets, a blanket, and an exceptionally fluffy duvet.
               âExcuse me?â Toji knocked his knuckles on the dresser by the bed. Still not totally sure if there was life under all the pillows. âExcuse me.â He said, firmer. Toji raised his eyebrows when a longâŠnoise⊠escaped painfully from the frump on the bed.
               âHello? You paid me for today, you know?â
There was a shaky stretch he could see from under the fluff. Then, as though burned with a branding iron, the shape jolted up. Toji was struck by the view of the women before him. Screaming in shock.
               The dog began to whine again between Toji and the woman on the bed. You were making loud, unintelligible exclamations. The dog was licking at his paw.
               âH-hello???!â You were nothing like what Toji was expecting. But then again, he wasnât sure what he had expected from the ghost that was the owner of this place.
               âMs. y/n? You paid me to come today.â Toji had taken a step back, he was well aware that he was a frightening presence, especially for the seemingly young and unarmed woman sitting up in her bed.
               âMr. Fushi-â a cough âguro?!â your eyes stretched comically wide, and made to jump out of bed, but then you saw how close Toji was, and thought again, âI-I didnât!â Your hands fly to your head, âOh GodâŠ.â
Toji stepped back a ways, he wasnât sure what he should do or say. The women before him seemed⊠unwell, to say the least. Weak, for sure, cold too maybe.
               âBut itâsâŠ.â You began.
               âItâs Friday, you paid me last night for yesterday and today, I can leave if youâd like, but I ainât got the cash on meâŠâ Â
               âNo, no, no!â Finally, you stumbled from your bed, seemingly no longer frightened by Tojiâs looming form, you seemed flushed, and damp? Definitely unwell. âI-Iâm so sorry, I canât believe I let this happen, I swear I set an alarmâŠâ
You spin around and almost slam directly into Toji's chest. Shrieking, you pulled back and stumbled on your own footing. In the same breath Toji grabs you by the shoulder and righted your center of gravity.
Hot. He thinks She was irregularly warm. He let go and stepped back.
There was once a time when a touch like that would mean nothing, but now, he feels unsure if it was the right move. This woman was nothing like his previous clients.
               âIâm so sorry! But⊠My phoneâŠâ Your eyes survey the desk by the bed. A thermometer sat idly by the lamp.
âIâve got it here.â Toji waved the device before your eyes, âYou left it on the counter back there.â He tilted his head toward the kitchen.
The meek women seemed to no longer fear Toji at all, snatching her phone quickly and moaning loudly. âOh God!â You echoed.
You shuffle on your feet, unsure of which direction to turn, then finally decide to turn to Toji where he stands staring.
               âI- cannot. Apologize. Enough. Please, you stay here, I need to go, I am so late. I- Thank you, for taking care of my boy.â You were huffing. Stress welled in your form but you squeezed the sides of your temples and rushed to slip shoes on.
               âExcuse me.â Toji felt uncomfortable and out of place in this woman's presence but she was insane if she thought she could work in this condition. Not only due to her clear illness, but also, she was currently wearing a professional pair of flats, green and black oversized plaid pajama pants, and a thick black crewneck. âYou⊠canât work like this.â He made a face.
You look down at yourself. âOh, Iâm-Iâm so embarrassed, and Iâm sorry. I have extra clothes in the office, I can change there⊠I canât believe this happened.â Your hoarse voice had scratched and faded significantly from the screaming you had done moments before. âThank you, for waking me, and staying with the dog.â
               âErmâŠNo, I mean, you canât workâŠlike thisâ Tojiâs hand motioned to rake over your appearance. Like Hello? You are not presentable. âYou're sick.â
               âIâm-no! Iâm on the recovery side. Iâll be okay.â You state, wobbling on your ârecoveringâ feet.
               âI donât think so.â Toji wasnât trying to be pushy but it was laughable to think someone in your condition was anything but grossly ill. âI think you should call out.â
Your eyes jump at the thought. âI canât, Iâm sorry that this happened, Iâll be sure it won't again. I can't believe-ugh!â
Your exasperation was clear, and no, you were not recovering. You had come home last night beyond exhausted. You had left that morning knowing you were sick. You had left work early, (by 5:30) in hopes that sleep would help you body. But the exhaustion had overtaken you. You can recall taking medicine, placing some out for this morning, and thenâŠ. Flopping in bed.
Damn it. This was your fault. And after all the work you had done. The panic had settled into disappointment. And the large man that was supposedly your very attentive and efficient dog sitter was still in your bedroom. Staring at you. In your pajamas. Nice.
âYa can't work like that. How about I walk the dog, you take the drugs youâve got in that little cup and go back to bed.â He pauses and. Blood rushes to your face. He gives you a once over, âMaybe wash up.â
You were gonna kill yourself.
There were a million âno!â arguments that came to your mind but they were so jumbled in your fuzzy mind. Another reason for your self-induced frustration. The man was already walking out of your bedroom, your big dog in toe. Your boy!? The dog who hated everyone (especially men) but you?? He was leaving YOU for HIM? That was it.
You waddle back to your bed and flop face first into your pillow and wail. No tears come but the embarrassment and anger fill you so full you need it out of your system in some way.
Checking your (nearly dead) phone you find that it is nearly nine, you werenât THAT late, this could work. But at the realization that you wouldnât arrive until almost ten, and the sweat pricking at your neck, all the motivation to make it flooded from your bones. You work from home on the weekend anyway, if you went in today you would likely just humiliate yourself more.
You resigned yourself to the bathroom after taking some medicine, desperate to get yourself clean before the dog sitter returned.
Toji decided to take a slower pace on their morning walk. He had an odd feeling in his stomach. All he could that was that this dogs mom was not what he had expected.
It had become a game for Toji- to guess what the homeowner was like. A decrepit golfer with time for nobody but himself? An old, entitled maid, desperate to appear young? A middle-aged guy like himself, too busy trading stocks to feed his own dog?
Yet today proved that all of his ideas were wrong... you were younger than he had envisioned. You had big, full eyes and you had smiled so shyly while thanking him.
He hadn't meant to embarrass you but your face when he told you you were unpresentable just made him laugh. Your eyebrows knitting together, and your (already heated) facade seemed to rush with more blood. Your downcast gaze had lifted to show a pathetically self-deprecating smile. Toji laughed despite himself.
You had seemed small. But in the moment he had spoken to you, you had shrunk even more. No. Not what he was expecting at all.
And despite himself and his greed. He couldnât help but hope that he wouldnât be needed here for a little while.
It seemed like you needed to stay home for a while.
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pt. 3
#soft toji#toji fushiguro#toji drabble#toji imagine#toji x reader#toji x you#toji fluff#toji angst#hurt/comfort#toji fushiguro fluff#jjk toji#toji fushigro x reader#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro drabble#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#toji zenin#toji x reader angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen imagines
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texting Stan and Ford headcanons
smut version
Ë àŒâĄÂ âïœĄË Stan Pines
â§Â Stan is the kinda guy who thinks emojis are a scam, but somehow, he figured out how to use the "thumbs up" and "money bag" emoji. so, expect a lot of those in your chats.
â§Â his text tone is rough, a little misspelled, typed like he's yelling even when he isnât. Half of his texts are in all caps, and he absolutely does not care about grammar. but he gets the point across, always.
â§Â youâre getting messages at 3 am about some âbrilliantâ scheme to make a quick buck. heâll send, âLISTEN, doll, what if we made... GIANT⊠glitter-filled eggs for easter? Tourists'll go NUTS." you reply, half-asleep, with âStan, ily but go to bed." and all you get back is a âđ€ŹÂ YOU GOTTA THINK BIGGER!â
â§Â Stan sends those weird chain messages he swears are from some âhotshot businessmanâ thatâll make you rich in a week. and when you donât respond immediately, you get a: âFine, Miss Doubtful, see you when Iâm rolling in gold.â
â§Â there are whole days where he just floods your phone with random, blurry photos of some new Mystery Shack "artifact" he found. Itâs usually junk he picked up at a garage sale, like a âhauntedâ ashtray or some knock-off painting thatâs âprobably ancient.â
â§Â If heâs feeling sappy (and tipsy): you might get a rare âthinking bout you, sweet thingâ at 2 am. but if you try to call him on it the next day, heâll just be like âDidnât say that. Youâre makinâ stuff up.â
â§Â when heâs really riled up about something, though? then his messages are just. . . a stream of caps-lock curses, mixed with misspelled attempts to describe whatever nonsense he just got himself into. you just sit back and let him rant; heâll cool off eventually.
â§Â and the voice messages are something else. they sound like heâs talking through a fan half the time. one minute, heâs rambling about how tourists are âthe dumbest suckers on the planetâ and the next, heâs ranting about how âbigfoot definitely broke into the shack last night!"
types of messages Stan texts:Â
"So⊠whatcha wearinâ? đ"
âHey doll, I just found a penny on the ground! Maybe todayâs my lucky day⊠hint hint ;)"
"Iâd say somethinâ romantic, but I think my brain just shorted out. Youâre a little too cute for a guy like me."
"Just tried that new cafĂ© downtown. Ordered coffee⊠tastes like they filtered it through someoneâs laundry. Youâd hate it. Wanna come mock it with me?"
"Not gonna lie, I miss that face of yours. So whatâre we doinâ about it, huh?"
âAgain missinâ that cute little smile of yours⊠maybe you could send me a pic to remind me?â
"Wanna help me scam the tourists today? Iâll split the loot with ya⊠maybe ;)â
"You wouldnât believe what I caught Ford muttering in his sleep. Manâs like a walking encyclopedia, even when heâs unconscious."
âGot any plans later? Thought maybe we could⊠yâknow⊠not have plans together."
Ë àŒâĄÂ âïœĄË Ford PinesÂ
â§Â hehehehe heâs like an old-school emailer whoâs just now getting the hang of messaging apps. texts in complete sentences, full punctuation, like heâs drafting a dissertation.
â§Â He sends you whole paragraphs at random hours, talking about some discovery heâs made, like heâs reporting directly to NASA. youâre like, âFord, it's just a weird-looking squirrel." and he's already typing another essay about its "possible interdimensional origins."
â§Â once in a while, heâll send you a message that says, âAre you awake?â at, like 3 am followed by a string of thoughtful yet completely bonkers hypotheses. you find it cute, though, his mind never stops, not even for a second.
â§Â If heâs feeling bold, you might even get a âhypotheticalâ confession out of him: âHypothetically, if one were to develop... strong emotional attachment to a certain person... how would one proceed?" You tease him about it the next day, and he gets flustered, âIt was purely scientific curiosity."
â§Â Ford isnât big on emojis, but he likes the brain and alien ones, using them poetically. heâll sign off texts with a single brain emoji, like itâs his version of a little goodbye wave.
â§Â on really rare occasions, heâll send a voice message. theyâre always way too long, and itâs usually him whispering so he doesnât wake Stan up. he goes on about cosmic rays or âgravity anomalies,â his voice dropping lower when he gets excited. you live for those moments
â§Â and if he ever texts you a âgood night,â you just know heâs been up thinking about it for hours, trying to figure out if itâs âappropriate.â
types of messages Ford texts:Â
âItâs been approximately 3 hours, 12 minutes, and 23 seconds since our last conversation⊠not that Iâm counting or anything. Just⊠miss you."
sends a meme about science nerds âUs. But mostly me.â
âMy hands ache from writing⊠though perhaps if it were writing about you, I wouldnât mind.â
âDo you think about me too, or am I the only one utterly ruined by this⊠whatever this is?â
âIâve been thinking about that book you lent me... đ€Â Itâs honestly so much more interesting than I expected, thank you for recommending it."
"I donât know how to work this... But I managed to send a meme! Itâs not the worst thing Iâve done, I suppose?Â
âI did it. I fixed the telescope. Finally. Now we can actually look at the stars like weâve talked about. :)"
"I hope youâre feeling okay today. I noticed you seemed a little stressed the other day. Donât forget to take care of yourself. :) Itâs important."
"If I could rearrange the periodic table, Iâd put U and I together. :( Sorry, nerdy joke... :âD)â
ps - I CANT THEYRE SO CUTE BOTH I WANT TO SMASH THEM AGAINST THE WALL
lmao if someone wants, i can write some spicy types of chatting with them :)))
#gravity falls x reader#gravity falls x you#x reader#gravity falls#gravity falls smut#ford pines x reader#ford pines smut#stan pines smut#stan pines x reader#stan pines x oc#stan pines x you#ford pines x you#stanford pines x you#stanford pines x reader#gravity falls headcanons
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Need a Ride?
written for âsnowfallâ wc: 1000 # | steddie | rated: g | cw: non archive warnings apply | tags: alternate first meeting, pre-season four, feat. steve harrington's beemer
@steddieholidaydrabbles
He was sending his van right to the dump this time. He meant it.
Stupid engine heâd had to drop all his profits on for the third time crapping out right in the middle of the road. Leaving him to hoof it back to the gas station and hope that Wayne was home from his shift to get the call.
And of course, the snow season had to start today.
Head ducked against the wind, with only his battle vest and leather jacket against the bracing cold and snowflakes that stung his cheeks and nose where it wasnât covered by his hair. He was just glad that there were streetlights so he wasnât veering off into nowhere in the dark.
He could barely feel his fingers in his pockets by the time he made it to the station. He was still shivering, so he wasnât quite at the point of hypothermia, but even dialing the numbers on the pay phone was a bit of a feat in itself.
Eddie put his back to the wind as the phone rang. And rang. Eventually, it rang out.
Wayne must have picked up a double shift. Not unusual, especially this time of year. Honestly, Eddie should have guessed that in the first place and called the plant instead of the trailer.
And he didnât have enough change for another call. Guess he shouldnât have stopped to buy that pack of cigarettes. That heâd already opened and smoked one from before his shitty van broke down.
âFuck,â Eddie hissed, smacking the receiver into the hook.
He could trudge back to the van and settle in for the night. But without heat, heâd be just as well off trying to walk home in the wind and snow. And he wasnât going to be getting sympathy with how he was dressed for spare change, much less did he have anything to deal to someone who would give him the time of day.
If he didnât figure this out quick, he was going to get arrested for loitering.
AlthoughâŠ
âMunson?â
He perked up despite himself, recognizing the voice. Even if it wasnât exactly someone he was elated to have run into at a pretty low point in his day.
Standing there under cover from the wind, the snow fell gently onto Steve Harrington. Of course it did. Settled on his hair and his jacket like powdered sugar on an overly-sweet dessert.
He wasnât getting gas, pulled over and stood with the driverâs door open. One hand braced on the door and the other on the hood of his car, Steve stared curiously at Eddie. He was actually dressed for the weather, a puffy white and pale blue-striped monstrosity with fur around the hood.
Steve glanced at the rest of the gas station, noticing that his was the only car around.
âWhat are you doing here?â
Eddie stayed beside the payphone, in the wind and snow, but the farthest he could be from Steve. Heâd dealt to him a few times, just weed, really, and only knew Steve by reputation. Last heâd heard, Steve had just dumped his two lackeys, Tommy and Carol and had slung ice cream at the Starcourt Mall until it burst into flames.
Why Harrington could care about him, Eddie had no idea.
âVan broke down,â he answered shortly, shoving his hands in his pockets even though the leather was nearly as cold as the wind. He gave a strained smile. âStuck here.â
âPhone busted?â
âOut of money.â Eddie cocked his head, feeling bold. âGot fifty cents?â
Itâd be enough for another call to the trailer and one to Wayneâs work for safety.
Steve raised both brows, and Eddie blanched. He and Steve were practically strangers, and heâd immediately hit Steve up for money. Even if he was known as the rich kid with parties every week because his parents were never homeâEddie was so far off his radar, he might as well have been gum under his shoe.
âI could give you a ride,â Steve said instead. âForest Hills, right?â
A ride in the Steve Harringtonâs Beemer. Sleek and maroon and drool-worthy.
The girls at school that would have literally slit his throat to be in Eddieâs place.
Eddieâs eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but he managed to find words and point back at the payphone with his thumb.
âI really just need to call my uncle. Heâll come get me.â
Steve leveled a gaze at him. âAnd youâll spend an hour in the snow waiting. Iâm not going to leave you out here to freeze.â
Eddie sucked his teeth, staring Steve down. He hated to give Steve the point of being right, but he was starting to lose feeling in his hands and his cheeks were stinging from the wind across his face.
He sighed, wetting his bottom lip. Or tried to, since the wet from his tongue only made his face freeze more.
âFine,ïżœïżœïżœ he said, ducking his head as he trudged toward the Beemer. He didnât dare stop to double-check with Steve, wincing as he pulled his hand from his pocket to open the door and slide inside.
The inside was immediately ten times warmer, blasting from the fans and Eddie nearly moaned. Until Steveâs door slammed closed and suddenly Eddie was inside Steve Harringtonâs car. With Steve Harrington.
âYou good, Munson?â
He was staring, he realized only after Steve spoke. If Steve wasnât apprehensive about letting the school freak into his car, he was sure to be when Eddie acted as though heâd been raised far from civilization.
He forced a hard swallow. âJust surprised this isnât all some trick. My type doesnât exactly mesh with your type.â
Steve gave this chuckle, like an inside joke only he had any idea of.
âRight,â he said softly, and Eddie definitely felt as though he was way out of the loop on a new kind of Steve Harrington.
A kind he had a single car ride to figure out.
Part Two
#steddie fanfiction#steddie fanfic#steddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie munson#first meeting#alternate first meeting#steddie microfic
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in my dreams, you love me back / don't wake me up, deceive me sweetly
various hsr (dan heng, aventurine, sunday, jing yuan) characters as isekai romance tropes.
dan heng in: helping that useless prince!
the exiled prince! he ends up settling in a modest (for him - raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and all) cottage. he finds usual peasant housework and chores difficult to deal with, so he employs you to help him around the house. you wake up already months into the job, and he finds it extremely weird how his usually quiet housekeeper is suddenly all chipper and nosy into his work and daily life (i mean, he employed you in the first place because he were anything but that). he doesn't find the change bothersome though, and catches himself starting to look forward to your sudden barging into his room in the middle of the day with his tea balanced precariously in your hands, bringing a new type of entertainment into his less than exciting life.
aventurine in: stopping us from going broke!
you've reincarnated into the body of the wife of the gambler noble: aventurine. originally just a side character who gets all his money taken away from him by the male lead in service of the plot, you work to stop that aaaaaall from happening - mostly to save yourself. your current life is cushy and you would love to keep it that way! along the way, you've gotten to interact more with your husband, who usually keeps out of your way and only speaks in condescending tones. eventually, you find out that nothing is as it seems, and you discover more and more of your husband's past, and you slowly find yourself finally falling in love with each other, slowly, slowly.
sunday in: wait, is this story about us?
sunday is the tragic villain of the story - obsessed with keeping the status quo, his plans keep getting thwarted by a pesky pest - YOU. after all, he is your favourite character, and you would rather not see him go down the path that leads to certain death. you keep taking random tools that will help him, and his informants keeps mysteriously disappearing under unknown circumstances. his messages sent by bird never seem to reach their destination and his henchmen are always tripping over misplaced equipment and the main leads never seem to be where he needs them to be. he eventually pins the blame on you, and turns his gaze and focus on getting you to his side before continuing on with his plans. after all, anyone who can thwart his plans and keep up with him like this deserves to be rewarded and kept by his side, not killed.
jing yuan in: saving the general
he's the general who strikes fear into his enemies. he's the teacher whose students barely make it out alive every class. he's your sleepy boss who makes you do everything. yes, the feared and mighty general in private is utterly dependent on you in his private and daily life. as an avid reader of the original novel, where jingyuan is killed so that his mentee - the protagonist, goes off on his hero's journey in revenge, you never knew that being his assistant would be such a hassle. but the protagonist is currently a child, and he runs around your feet - so much so that you are starting to question whether the him whose challenging you to a duel right now with a wooden sword when he's only half your size is the same character as the one you read on the pages of the book. either way, you should be responsible and raise him well, while also hopefully saving him from the heartache that is losing his father figure in a few years. after all, you've gotten yourself in his good graces, and you kind of have a soft spot for him as well, not that you'll ever admit it.
#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#dan heng x reader#aventurine x reader#sunday x reader#jing yuan x reader#dan heng#aventurine#sunday#jing yuan#hsr imagines#honkai star rail#hsr
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Feels Like Home
Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Summary: Bucky's world is filled with a lot of blood, death, and danger. But when he's with you, everything is filled with love, light, and gentleness. It's a feeling he didn't know he craved until he met you.
Bucky Barnes Masterlist
Bucky at home was a stark contrast to how he was out on the streets of Brooklyn. To the outside world, he was James Barnes, the fearsome head of the Barnes Family, the leading crime family in Brooklyn. But when it was just you and him, in your dingy apartment, he was your Bucky Bear, a soft man who loved to cuddle, cook you dinner, and watch rom-coms with you.
That's the Bucky you'd always see as soon as he was in your presence.
Right now though, he isn't your Bucky Bear. He's James Barnes and he's got death on his mind. In the shadows of the alleyway, you can see how he's pointing his gun at the man in front of him.
"You've given me excuse after excuse, Dalton. I'm sick of it. Where's my money?" he grips the man by the caller of his shirt, and pulls him in closer, the barrel of the gun staring him in the face.
"Buck," Sam murmurs Bucky's name.
You watch as Bucky looks to Sam and when Sam nods in your direction, Bucky follows. His eyes widen, "Sweetheart." He immediately pockets his gun and rush over to you.
"What're you doing out so late at night?"
Your dog, Taffy, jumps at Bucky's legs when he gets close. Bucky leans down and scratches the corgi behind her ears, "Hiya, girl."
"She had a lot of energy when I got home from work. So I figured a walk around the block would be good for her." Your eyes dart to Sam and the man in the alleyway, "Is everything okay?"
Bucky looks over his shoulder and then back at you, "Yeah. Just...business." He wraps a protective arm around you, leading you away from the alley, "Wait here. I'll walk Taffy with you and we have dinner."
He moves to pull away but you grip at his wrist, "Bucky, it's fine. I can walk the neighborhood by myself. Go handle business or whatever."
Bucky continues to walk back, "Stay there." At his command, Taffy immediately sits and he chuckles, "At least she listens to me."
When he heads back to Sam and the unknown man, they exchange a few words you can't hear. The man looks at you and that pisses Bucky off.
"Don't you fucking look at her," he says, forcibly turns the man's head to look away from you.
After some low words exchanged, Bucky walks away from them, with Sam dragging the man to the other end of the alley where a car waits.
"C'mon, baby," Bucky murmurs, his arm wrapping around your waist. Taffy is happy to continue her walk, as she prances a short distance ahead of you and Bucky.
There's a weird tension between you as you walk Taffy around the block and eventually back to your apartment. You shed your jacket and shoes, unleashing Taffy, and going straight to the kitchen.
Bucky follows you, leaning against the kitchen counter, "You okay?"
You nod, "Mhm. Sorry, I just-I forget sometimes that you're..you know."
"I see."
"I've never seen that side of you, so it was a little...jarring."
"Do you...want to break up?"
You look at him with wide eyes, "What? No! Do you?"
"No, but I told you who I was from the very beginning, baby. If what I do ever puts you off, I'll completely understand if you don't want anything to do with me."
You shake your head, "Bucky, that's not it. I still want to be with you. I just forgot who you are outside of here. I forgot that's actually who you are."
It was Bucky's turn to shake his head, "Nah, baby. That's not who I am. That's who I had to become in order to survive. But here?" he points to the apartment, "This is who I really am."
You hum, "So you're really a big lovey dovey teddy bear that loves to be the little spoon, cook me dinner, and cry at rom-coms?" Bucky playfully rolls his eyes at your teasing and you continue, "Okay, really though. Does anyone else know this side of you?"
He shrugs, "Not really because I never felt super comfortable to be myself until I met you."
You scoff, "Sap."
"Only for you," he leans in and pecks your lips, "You sure you're okay? Are we okay?"
"Yeah. We're good."
Bucky pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You nuzzle your face into him, letting his scent encompass you.
You felt at home.
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fail-safe
pairing:Â yoongi x reader
wordcount: 8k
glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.
alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.
[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]
[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]
notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist
Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.
The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that heâs won yet again, heâs satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.
He doesnât want to risk losing the win heâs just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyoneâs a little greedy one way or another, but itâs the righteous part of him that thinks heâs different.
You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. Heâs this fixed older figure in your life and you canât figure out how to shrug him off â heâs this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.
Yoongiâs your older brotherâs best friend and thereâs a novelty tag that comes with him, one that canât be topped by any material possession to your name. Heâs there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. Heâs special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.
Heâs there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD youâve spent all your allowance in, and heâs there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. Youâre there when you later admit that his suggestions arenât half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.
Heâs there when Namjoon wonât cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because heâll actually give you his, but because heâll help your brother guard his plate. Youâd only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and youâre there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.
You donât need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesnât give in to every single whim that you have, but heâll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you donât want to remove until itâs February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.
Yoongiâs the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.
âI buy one scratch ticket a week â three if Iâm really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, thatâs when I know that I really need to buy them.â
Heâs calm and collected even when youâre scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and youâre still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on canât possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.
Heâs just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)â one thatâs shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin heâs ever had that happens to be older than he is â while you mutter about.
âI donât know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,â you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. âMight be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.â
âWhatâ I do not have a gambling problem! My skinâs perfectly fine too, thanks,â he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.
âThatâs what people with gambling problems say.â
âGive me that-âŠâ he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You donât give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. âYou donât get it. Itâs just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, itâs not a big deal.â
You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. âNah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldnât lose our shit,â you trail, racking your head to find the right words.âYours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-âŠâ
âYours is what?â Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where youâre going with this. He canât pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.
You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.
You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoonâs obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighborâs when heâs sent it flying to their backyard.
Youâre probably an imposter yet you donât feel like it. You donât feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you donât feel dissatisfied that your lifeâs mundane.Â
You go where your love goes.
âMine is watching you buy scratch tickets,â you shrug easily as if itâs the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. Youâve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.
âGet up. Iâm buying you your first ticket,â he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.
âBut Iâm not even legal!â you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that youâre finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because youâve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you havenât even betted for.
âRight. Like I havenât seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.â
âRude,â you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.
âItâs okay. Iâll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,â Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if youâve just asked him about the weather.
Heâs here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and heâs still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.
Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that youâre still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. Sheâs an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you wonât be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you wonât be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.
âI already used up all my change,â your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.
âRub it against the pavement. Thatâs what I do,â Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it. âI was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,â he groans, pulling out his wallet. âUgh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.â
Itâs the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what itâs actual value is supposed to be.
âEw. Iâm giving it back. It looks prehistoric,â you narrow your eyes, knowing that you donât even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that itâs already left a faint stench on them.
Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he canât tell heâs formed himself or got from you. âIf you use your brain for one second, youâd realize that itâs actually worth more because itâs older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.â
âThat sounds like a hoarding problem.â
Heâs just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.
âKidding. Thank you. Iâll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,â you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.
He waits for you because youâre scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.
Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi canât tell whatâs happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.
âDid you win?â
âNope.â
âLet me throw that out for you.â
âNo!â you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. Itâs a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didnât mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. âI-I mean no, Iâll keep it. Itâs memorable now that I think about it.â
âAlright,â he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. âHoarder.â
âGambler,â you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. âNext week again?â
Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesnât have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.
âSure.â
( ⥠)
You donât mind getting hand-me-downs.
As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that itâs been loved enough to be passed on to you.
You adore your motherâs dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you donât mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoonâs shirts that heâs outgrown, even through the numerous phases heâs had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.
You donât mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that youâre probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase arenât covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. Itâs home to your mother and Namjoon â if itâs good enough for them, then itâs already the best for you.
Even on top of everything, you donât mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and youâd barely bat an eye.Â
You donât mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they werenât offered, youâd seek them yourself.Â
So when Yoongi mentioned that heâs decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.
âGo crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.â
âI feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,â you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. Itâs a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything heâs ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.
Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. âItâs either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebodyâs uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.â
You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebodyâs uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.
The thick gray hoodie youâve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought youâd gotten hurt.
âNo way, this too? But this is your favorite,â you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that thereâs a catch to it belonging in the pile.
âEh. I know it looked good on me but I donât think itâs my favorite. Besides, Iâve bulked up! Wanna feel?â Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brotherâs at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.
âYou and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.â
Thereâs random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what youâre only allowed to grab from his stuff.
Youâre not greedy â you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But thereâs that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubikâs cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.
There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.
âYoongi.âÂ
âWhat now?â he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.
âAre you serious? Your helmet?â you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. âDoes this mean youâre passing your motorcycle to me?!â
âAre you crazy? Fuck no,â Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesnât miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; heâs not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. âObviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.â
You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasnât full of his shit. âCome on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.â
âTeaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?â Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.
âBut you still havenât taught me,â you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course â why would he do that for you?
You have an inkling that youâre being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after⊠by him.
Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didnât mean to be that blunt. âI donât think youâre even old enough to have your driving permit,â he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.
You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. âBut Iâm old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that canât fit in your carrier.â
He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. âYouâre so stubborn.â
âYouâre a hypocrite,â you retort, knowing for a fact heâs known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot.Â
Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. Youâre still not looking at him and youâre pouting and you donât even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.
âI will teach you next week.â
âOh my-âŠâ
He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. âProvided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly donât have a job yet-âŠâ
âOuch.â
âAnd I donât have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what youâll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,â Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. Theyâre too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.
âYou go on rides wearing your pajamas.â
âJust say âthank you, Yoongiâ.âÂ
âYou havenât done anything yet,â you trail off, head tilting in confusion.Â
Youâve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.
âThank you, Yoongi,â he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He wonât stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you wonât go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.
âThank you, Yoongi,â you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.
He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.
âYou can have the helmet.â
( ⥠)
Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.
Heâs been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.
Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. Heâd put strips of masking tape with his name on food thatâs neither brought in nor made for him in the first place.Â
It should be off-putting â the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didnât ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, youâre not totally alone to begin with.
You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because heâs in your life and you donât get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that youâre not, and probably never will.
âCanât sleep?â you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didnât expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.
âWhy are you up?â
âStressed,â you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor.Â
âStressed about what? Iâm sure itâs not about studying,â he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.
It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didnât know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.
You notice Yoongiâs digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to. You admit that youâve never been that scholastic; you werenât born a genius and you donât try exactly hard either.
Yoongiâs only joking but you canât help but to think that heâs pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.
âWe have to write this essay,â you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.
âBut essays are the easiest,â he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.
You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just canât seem to get it. Yoongi knows where youâre coming from but he doesnât know where youâre headed. As a matter of fact, you donât know where youâre headed either. âWe have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.â
âBut thatâs still easy.â
âIf itâs so easy, then go write it for me,â you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didnât mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongiâs too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.
He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who wouldâve been lulled to sleep if only you werenât dead-set on arguing with him. âYou know what? I actually will,â he claps, handing you his beer. âGo hold this for me.â
Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (heâs not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.
Youâve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if youâve dozed off when actually, itâs just you eyeing the can.
âNo oneâs watching,â Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and heâs far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. âItâs okay. You can have your first sip.â
You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.
âOne more?â he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder.Â
You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (youâll even drink from the tap because youâre so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldnât look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesnât taste like what youâve always imagined it to be. âJust write my essay for me,â you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongiâs back ahead of you. âDo all beers taste that way?â
âEh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,â he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.
He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.
âYoongi?â
âHm.â
âI told you why Iâm up. Why are you up?â
Heâs silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesnât answer, and you donât ask again. âDonât worry about it.â
You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You donât remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.
Your paperâs neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting thatâs clearly not yours, but with a sentiment thatâs similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongiâs beer last night.
Youâve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you canât forget despite having passed the paper already. You donât know what to feel because itâs Yoongi whoâs speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your motherâs daughter and your brotherâs sister.
He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you canât tell which one is better.
Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting â Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongiâs rock.
( ⥠)
Surprisingly, Yoongi hasnât been around that much lately.
Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasnât been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because theyâre enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongiâs been mostly unavailable.
When Yoongi is, however, he doesnât speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if heâs never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if youâve asked him directly.
Youâre getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. Heâs more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.
Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi canât get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows youâve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation.Â
Itâs late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, thereâs ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and heâs even gotten you your own glass to which heâll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. Youâre not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.
âYouâre awfully quiet.â
The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears.Â
âMy best friends want to have this slumber party,â you sigh, more upset about what youâve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize youâve just won.
Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. âThatâs great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, donât be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when youâre going out by yourself.âÂ
The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.
You should be comforted at Yoongiâs words because theyâre supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that itâs supposed to be great.
Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.
âWas it something I said?â he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. âI have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if thatâs what youâre worried about.â
âWeâre gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,â you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. âWeâre gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.â
He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoonâs when you tried opening up to him. You get your brotherâs reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if youâd be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, sheâs your parent and you just canât talk about anything and everything with her.Â
Yoongiâs your next plausible option.
âDo you want some ice cream right now? You know what, Iâll buy you-âŠâ Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.
âI havenât had my first kiss yet.â
âHeh.â
Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. âSo? What about it?â
You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine youâve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesnât get it. âI-Iâm probably the only one in my grade who hasnât kissed someone yet! I canât just lie carelessly because obviously, theyâll ask around.â
âSo?â Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. âWhatâs it to them if you havenât had your first kiss?â
âYou donât get it,â you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.
âIâm pretty sure I do,â he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When youâre not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesnât want you to develop a taste for it.
The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. Youâre presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongiâs reached so far and youâve reached so little.
âYou donât get it because youâve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,â you snap, although you donât look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, youâll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world â even a first kiss youâve never had.
âYeah, and so?â he knits his brows, growing defensive. You werenât lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. Heâs not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, itâs like you want him to burn in shame,
âStop saying so,â you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still donât ease up on crossing your arms.
Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. Heâs stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. âNo, Y/N. Iâm genuinely asking â so what? Whatâs it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you havenât? Itâs not the end of the world.â
âI-I donât know! Itâs just unfair!â you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongiâs right with it not being the end of the world, and that youâre still entitled to feeling upset.
âInstead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I donât know, try being productive? Youâre heading to college soon and you havenât even thought of a career,â Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. âSomeone elseâs luck doesnât mean itâs already your misfortune.â
âBut it is.â
You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you donât have the luck. Youâre not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.
You canât pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You canât think of a degree and a course youâll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you donât. You have no plan and no passion and you donât know if youâll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.
By all means, you donât agree with Yoongi this time. Someone elseâs luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesnât mean that itâs yours.
The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. âI just have to put myself out there, thatâs all. My first kiss doesnât even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,â you admit, shoulders relaxing.
âDonât,â Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.
He thinks that you donât get him at all.
âWhat do you meandonât?â
Your argumentâs long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongiâs getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. âDonât do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?â
âI donât want to be left behind, Yoongi! Thatâs all Iâm trying to get at,â you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly â it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. âI donât want to be picked last. I donât want to not be wanted.â
Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesnât stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.
âCan you be my first kiss?â
âAre you insane?â
âUgh.â
You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. Youâre unfazed about the win thatâs probably the largest sum youâve had ever since you started doing the lottery.
Youâre upset and youâre sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; itâs like you havenât indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.
Youâre about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.
âOn second thought, donât scratch that. Just keep it.â
âBecause you want to turn me into a hoarder too?â you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.
âBecause Iâm not going to be right about everything,â Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you canât decipher.
You try until the solemnness turns into pity.
âStill donât want to be my first kiss?â
Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down â whether easily or harshly, you canât tell.
âYou already know what Iâm going to say.â
( ⥠)
Youâd like to think that youâre not kept in the dark about most things.
You already know that although your mom hasnât had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that sheâs already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts.Â
You know about Namjoonâs growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didnât want to trouble your mom for the money. Itâs why he does his part-time job and why youâre looking for one anyways. You donât want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.
Yoongi, on the other hand, you donât know much about. You know that heâs an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and thatâs about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.
Maybe youâve become too lenient on him â either that, or heâs become too disrespectful. Itâs at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you donât want it to be yours either.
Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that itâs become the dirtiest that itâs ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.
Youâre angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.
âWhat the fuck?!â
Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that heâs shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewonâs scared shitless while Yoongiâs annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. âSorry, sorry. Sheâs my best friendâs sister. Sheâs so annoying,â he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.
âWhat the fuck was that, Yoongi?â you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because youâre so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chestâs heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything thatâs built up in the course of years.
âCan you keep it down?â Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. âWhat, would you rather see us do it in the living room?â
âIn the â what? Who do you think you are? This isnât even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?â you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesnât back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.
Heâs in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesnât realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks heâs in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.
âThis is literally the first time Iâve ever done this! I canât bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!â
âSo your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?â
âOh, youâre welcome. Itâs the most action your four walls have ever seen,â he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.
âI canât believe you!â you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. âI told you that in confidence.â
âIn confidence? It doesnât take a genius to figure out that youâre not exactly a catch, Y/N.â
You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.
You leave your home without saying another word.
.
.
.
Namjoonâs panicked.
He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that youâre not the baby that he still thinks you are â you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.
He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking heâll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.
Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and thatâs when he panics.
He canât find your slippers by the entryway and youâre not in your room either. Youâre not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and youâre not out on the street either going people-watching.
The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesnât know why. Heâs always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, youâre neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.
Namjoon thinks itâs his fault someway somehow, and the guilt canât fully dissipate from him until he sees you.
âHey, Yoongi,â he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.
Itâs his fault and heâs realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that itâs you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.
âWhatâs up, man? Itâs late,â he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he canât think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.
Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. âYeah, sorry about that. Iâm just wondering if youâve seen Y/N by any chance?â
Yoongiâs heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.
âWhat? Y/N isnât home?â Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. Heâs wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.
âSheâs not. Practice ran late and I-I know sheâs responsible so I didnât hurry home,â Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. âShe left her phone here, and mom isnât here either because sheâs visiting my grandparents, a-and I donât want to call her because I know sheâll be worried, a-and-âŠâ
Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. âIâm coming over. Letâs look for her together.â
It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas.Â
Namjoonâs filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish â too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he couldâve done more. He shouldâve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. Heâs guilty over the fact that heâs the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.
Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he canât even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that heâs to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, heâs positive that heâll be on the receiving end of a punch â what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldnât blame him at all.
They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with.Â
Namjoonâs relieved beyond compare while Yoongiâs fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it.Â
Thereâs an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongiâs car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.
âWanna tell me what you did?â your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry thatâs embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.
âWent to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,â you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.
âOkay,â he answers simply, nodding. âWanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?â
The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. âNope.â
You arrive in silence to Yoongiâs car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.
Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.
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