#Sometimes I lie awake at night and think of one three headed dog

[obae-me]

Lucifer: I had to leave my meeting with Diavolo for this. It better be important.

Asmo: We can't get MC to stop crying!

Mammon: Nothin' we say will help. You gotta do something!

Lucifer: Fine... MC, whatever is the matter?

MC: ...Cerberus will never-- will never get to experience the joy of sticking his little heads out of a car window on a drive...

Lucifer: ... ... ...

Mammon: Lucifer?

Lucifer: ... ... ...

Asmo: Oh dear... I think they're both sad now...

#Sometimes I lie awake at night and think of one three headed dog #please tell me there's magic to shrink him down so he can enjoy the fun things normal dogs can #he deserves so many things #he's such a good boi #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer

[loveinhawkins]

”How do you do it?” Eddie asks.

The question slips out far too late at night, anxiety thrumming in his chest—he’s not escaped the feeling ever since the boathouse, when he simply couldn’t sleep, felt like a fox just waiting for hound dogs to get his scent, ready to run—

Steve doesn’t need him to explain further, as if he can somehow hear a whole lot of what Eddie’s not saying: like when he picked up the phone an hour ago and hadn’t even let Eddie tie himself in knots, had just said, so easily, “I’ll come get you,” like it wasn’t a huge inconvenience, like he’d been the one to call Eddie instead.

He’s considering Eddie from where he lies in bed, leaning on his elbow, and he’s still got the covers off pointedly—and that’s a big thing, Eddie thinks, a big thing he doesn’t know what to do with, because they’ve not talked, not really, not got much beyond the dizzying relief of still being alive.

But even fraught with profound lack of sleep, Eddie doesn’t think he’s misreading the look in Steve’s eyes.

I know, those eyes say, illuminated by the warm light of the bedside lamp. It’s okay, there’s no rush. I’m right here.

Eddie’s never seen that kind of look before. Not towards him.

“Sometimes Robin sleeps over,” Steve says thoughtfully. “And sometimes the kids are around, and they’re so annoying and I get, like, three hours, tops.” He says it with all the fondness in the world. “And sometimes I’m alone, and it’s fine.”

“What about the other times?” Eddie can’t help but whisper.

If it were a reasonable hour maybe he wouldn’t dare to ask at all, but exhaustion’s worn down the filter in his head—at this point it’s practically see-through.

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, they’re shit,” he says with such honesty that Eddie nearly asks it again, how do you do it?

“But then it’s, like, a new day,” Steve says slowly, like he’s carefully weighing up what to say, “and I can… drive.” The pause tells Eddie he means go to someone. “Or, like… call, if it’s really bad.”

Hey, I’m glad you called, man, Steve had said when Eddie got into his car earlier, like they were just going to the movies or something normal—like Eddie wasn’t shaking, forehead pressed against the passenger window.

Eddie feels his throat close up a little. Tries to sniff as quietly as possible.

“Eddie,” Steve says patiently. He moves back in the bed. Gives Eddie space. “C’mere.”

Steve keeps the lamp on which helps; this isn’t the boathouse, Eddie thinks, and the slightest bit of tension leaves his body. Even that feels like a miracle.

He’s just resigning himself to lying there, staring up at the ceiling so at least Steve can get some rest, when Steve turns and catches his eye, still wide awake.

“Tell me about The Lord of the Rings,” Steve says.

The tightness in Eddie’s chest loosens; he laughs in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Eddie turns so he’s facing Steve properly, attempts a casual shrug, knowing already that it’ll be too rigid. “I don’t know, man. We, uh. We kinda lived through Mordor already.”

His hand twists in the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.

I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had…

Steve’s hand reaches across, eases Eddie’s grip on the sheets, like he’s saying, neither did I. Just give it a shot.

“The shire, then,” Steve says.

Eddie smiles. “Steve Harrington,” he says, suddenly finding enough lightness to tease; he’s missed it. “Are you asking me for a bedtime story?”

“Nope,” Steve says. “We’re just gonna lie here and talk.”

And they do.

Steve asks questions which works out for the best—Eddie can’t quite remember the last time he read the books. To tell the truth, anything that happened before March often has a kind of fog over it.

He’s sure he’s dropped at least a couple of plot points somewhere along the way, but Steve never once complains that he’s not making sense, just gently prompts Eddie until… until…

“Mm, I know what you’re doing,” Eddie mumbles through a yawn that catches him unawares.

“Oh, do you now?” Steve says, sounding smug. God, Eddie loves him. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.” Eddie says. His eyelids are heavy. “Um.” He yawns again. “Where… where was I?”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Steve says. It sounds like he’s smiling—Eddie would check, but it’s suddenly impossible to keep his eyes open.

It’s okay, he thinks hazily, melting into sleep without even thinking about it. He can ask Steve in the morning.

There’s no rush.

#on struggling with the aftermath #the trust in falling asleep in front of someone ❤️ #this may have a second part #a lil anxiety soothing stuff ❤️ #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

[charcoalhawk]

Don’t listen to a word I say, the screams all sound the same

Wulf lives his life in missed moments, and then, he doesn’t live in any moment at all.

Content warning: death, murder

Title is from Little talks by Of Monsters and Men

Wulf knows he had a real name, once. Even mean people like the butcher who always overcharged mama had a name, but Wulf can’t remember his anymore.

But mama had always called him her little wulf, and during their special nights every month when they all moved on all fours and howled at the moon, he sometimes wished he could always be one.

He wasn’t even two hands old when he lost mama and his siblings to That Man. He had broken into their little home in the woods and hit mama so horribly on the head that she never got up again. He and his siblings had tried to run, but two loud bangs had them collapsing from where they were running beside him.

The only reason he survived was because he did the one thing mama told him to never do. That Man had caught him as he was trying to shake his sister Rosè awake, yelling horrible words as he shook Wulf. And in that moment Wulf had been so overcome with rage he disobeyed the most important rule.

He’d managed to twist and sink his tiny teeth into That Man’s arm, biting down as hard as he could.

That Man had screamed and hit Wulf, but it must not have been too hard because he woke up just as the sun was setting.

That Man’s body was lying a few feet away, face frozen in a horrible scream and body stiffer than frozen wood.

He had left That Man there to rot for what he had done, then very carefully carried his siblings back to their house.

It took him three whole days to dig a hole big enough for his family, but when he finally finished it he carefully brought them all down and arranged them like he cuddles piles they would have after every full moon.

After filling the hole he searched the whole forest until he found the three perfect rocks. And carefully rolled them to lie over where his family was buried.

For a long time no one else comes to their house. Wulf keeps it as clean as he can in honor of his mama, and the forest provides enough so he doesn’t starve.

No one from town ever comes out to look for him or even for his mama, something that both makes Wulf’s heart ache yet he’s immensely grateful for.

The seasons shift and Wulf grows and settles into his quiet life. The most he ever sees of other people is when the leaves shift and deer run aplenty. Then he’ll catch the occasional howl of hunting dogs or the bang that always brings back horrible memories.

Those are the few months he dreads the full moon, because the forest is never quiet, and he fears catching any kind of unwanted attention.

But all good things must come to an end. It's a warm spring night, with the full moon round and heavy overhead, when Wulf hears a cry shatter the calm of the night and sends birds fleeing into the sky in droves.

Although he knows nothing good will come of it, his curiosity drives him to find the source of that horrid sound. As he draws closer the cloying scent of blood begins to overwhelm all other senses.

He ends up finding them in a clearing. A young boy is hunched over a crumpled figure, as blood slowly covers the forest floor around them.

Wulf pokes his head out of the foliage, trying to get a better look. A gleam of metal directs him to the weapon lying next to the two, as a picture starts to form in Wulf’s mind.

In this form he can’t speak, but maybe he can get the boy to follow him and he can bring the older man over his back. He thinks he remembers the path to town, mama made sure he remembered where deer-tree was, because it meant you were getting too close to town on your own.

Plan made, Wulf huffs loudly to alert the boy so as not to surprise him. It works almost too well, and the boy yelps when he locks eyes with Wulf.

“Oh- oh please don’t eat me señor wolf, an-and you can’t have my dad either!”

Wulf shakes his head at that, why would he ever eat a skinny human when there’s so many deer around.

“Oh! Uh, you, you understand me?”

Wulf nods his head rapidly, then makes a point to gesture at the downed man then at his side.

“You’ll help? Oh thank you thank you!”

With the boy now understanding that Wulf means him no harm he moves more confidently into the clearing, the moon illuminating his midnight fur. Maybe after this he can invite the boy and who he assumes is the boy’s father to his home. Maybe he could even go back into the village and start getting the good meat from the butcher and he wouldn’t get overcharged and-

BANG

It takes a second for the pain to hit, but then Wulf collapses where he stood, a burning line of fire shooting though his entire body, radiating from his side.

“Glad I- I always keep a silver spare.”

It’s the older man, barely sitting up, clutching that weapon like a lifeline.

“But dad! He- he was just trying to help! Why did you shoot him!”

The boy is by his side, pressing an already bloody hand into the wound.

“It’s a monster, son. And you would do well to remember that. Now, help me up, we need to go report this to the bishop.”

“But if we don't help him he’s gonna die!”

“Bah. It’s better than it deserves. Now help me up now or so help me god you can go join it!”

The boy rests one last hand on Wulf’s injured side, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll come back, I’ll bring bandages and I’ll-!”

The bigger man rips the boy away, crushing grip tight against the boy’s slight frame. He shoves the boy ahead, away from Wulf.

Wulf whines and pants as the minutes drift by. The wound had slowly ebbed from a burning inferno into shooting pain with each breath. He can feel the moon begin to set around him, taking away its cool light and leaving Wulf cold and empty.

As the sun begins to rise Wulf swears he can feel other breaths around him, a rough tongue working out the knots in his fur. It reminds him of peaceful nights with his family, and as the sun rises, Wulf’s breaths slow.

With his eyes closed, it feels like his family is still curled around him.

#dp side hoes week 2024 #Wulf #danny phantom #injury’s #death #yay haha funny event #now let’s bring in the angst

[emerald-notes]

My Guardian Angel - Part 2

Fandom: BTS Paring: Min Yoongi x Female Reader Genre: Fluff and slight angst Warning: Age gap, sorry but Yoongi spoils our little mc too much, nightmares, implication of abusive parents, running away from home, kissing (on the cheek), sickness, crying etc. Word Count: 2.8K Words Note: Since the reader is only 15 years old, I reduced Yoongi’s age to be 22. Please keep the age gap in mind before diving in to read. I must say there is nothing explicit in here.

Summary: You start to find happiness in the little things of your everyday routine bound life with the not-so-stranger in your shared home...

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 [Complete]

*************************************************

"Kitten, I'm home." A familiar voice greeted me from the outside while I was inside hiding beside the closed door.

My three most favorite words coming out of the mouth of my favorite person were enough to make even my worst day better. I tried hard to stop myself from giggling and giving away my position to him.

“Shelby, don’t!” I angrily whispered to our dog to stay quiet at her place. But she kept looking in my direction with her tail wagging behind her. I glared at her to stop. There was no time to bring Shelby beside me. Because I could already hear Yoongi opening the door.

And “Bwagh!!!” I yelled at his face right away.

“Ahh!” Yoongi sighed irritably. His eyes closed with a visible frown on his forehead. “How long will you keep this up?” He asked finally.

“Long enough for you to get used to it.” I replied happily. I wondered how stupid he could be for falling for the same old trick dozens of times. Nevertheless, this simple silly act made both of our days better.

As for most of my days, there was nothing exciting going on. Yoongi left everyday early in the morning even before I was awake. He always prepared both breakfast and lunch so that I really had no work to do. The only thing that kept me busy in this house in the middle of nowhere was our dog, Shelby. I would pet her, feed her, play with her and even talk to her from time to time to pass my lonely hours.

And Yoongi would be busy doing carpentry in the nearest town. He would have his lunch outside and would be home before it's too dark. His coming home was the time I wait for everyday since I started living with him. Because everyday I missed his presence beside me terribly.

As soon as he was home, I was happy again. I would start talking about how boring my day went and how much I missed him and what a new trick I had taught Shelby and what an interesting story I read from one of his old books and what a unique insect I had discovered outside and many more.

Despite being exhausted from his work earlier, Yoongi never complained. He listened attentively while doing his usual household chores with me. He rarely interrupted me while I talked but I knew for sure he was listening.

On a normal night, we would go to bed as soon as we were done with our dinner. But sometimes I would make a request to Yoongi to play the guitar for me. And he would be already on the couch ready to play my favorite tune as soon as I rested my head on his lap. Sometimes I would fall asleep and Yoongi would carry me to the bed without waking me up.

He let me have the bed for myself. It was too small for two people. So Yoongi would sleep on a sleeping bag on the floor beside it. I had asked him to let me sleep there instead since it was practically his house. But he refused and stayed firm in his decision.

Even with all the happiness that I never imagined I could experience, it would be a lie to say that I never feared losing it all. I often did. Actually more often than it could be counted as often. Every time I could hear Yoongi’s soft snoring through the quiet night, I would think about my life before him.

I knew that I was a burden on my step father who, after my mother’s death, had clearly shown me in every single way possible that I was unwanted in his house. But he was also very strict and possessive in nature. What if one day he decided that he would search for me?

I dreaded that my step father would find me somehow and all of this would be over. I would no longer be able to see Yoongi. I would no longer know what happiness truly feels like. I would no longer have a place to call home.

"Don't go anywhere far. I don't have the energy to look for you around the whole town." Yoongi yelled at me as I sprinted out of the grocery store.

"I won't." I replied louder as I went closer to one of my favorite places.

The gift shop.

It was a regular thing at this point. Every weekend, Yoongi would bring me with him to the town to do the week's grocery shopping and after that I was allowed to look through the cheap gift shop nearby. I would find something I liked and Yoongi would buy that for me in the hope of keeping my mood lifted throughout the whole week.

I walked around the small shop and carefully looked for the one thing that could bring me some comfort at times when Yoongi’s not there for me. And the little fox plushie, I assumed, recently came into the shop because I never had seen one here, caught my attention.

“Aren’t you a cutie?" I took the sleeping fox in my arms and cradled it slowly. I realized I had never had a stuffed animal my entire life. Not that I had always wanted one. But the sudden realization made me want to have a stuffed animal for myself.

I sensed Yoongi coming into the shop and I looked back, holding the fox towards him to see.

"So, you've already made up your mind, kitten?" Yoongi took the plushie from me to check it. But there was a frown on his forehead.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Umm... I think we can find something better than this." He returned the baby fox back to its family.

That was a really unexpected reply. Yoongi had never refused to buy me the thing I always chose for myself. I couldn’t even see any defect on it for him to say that. As he walked away from the plushie section, I took the little fox again and the price tag caught my eyes this time.

Hell, no!

"How come something that is too costly ended up at a cheap shop like this one?" I thought to myself. I could tell that my face went red from the embarrassment.

I should have been more understanding. Just because he said he'd buy me anything I liked didn't mean that I could ask for just about anything. That's asking a little too much from him considering how generous he was to me.

So, I picked a colorful key chain and showed it to Yoongi, pretending to be very hyped about it. He simply nodded and got that for me.

On our way home, I couldn't bring myself to talk like I usually did. Yoongi, too, remained too quiet.

The next weekend, Yoongi had to go to work. He said that it was the only time I had to miss going to the town and that he would make sure that it would never happen again. Despite the reassurance, I was kinda mad at him the whole day and decided not to talk to him when he came home.

He came home later than usual, called "Kitten, I'm home" as usual and asked me to put the groceries at the right places.

I, intentionally sulking at his presence, took the bags from him and got to work without any words. Judging by the heavy atmosphere that I had created around the house, he seemed to have understood how I felt. But he stayed quiet nonetheless.

My head was burning at that point. Maybe that was why I made unnecessary noises while doing the simple tasks Yoongi had assigned me to do.

"Oppa!" I couldn't help exclaiming as I noticed the small bag. I had been to the place too many times to know where it came from. And there it was. The little sleeping fox plush, waiting for me to embrace it in my arms.

I waited no longer. I ran towards Yoongi and immediately pulled him in a hug. Unable to say how happy he had made me, I kissed his cheek impulsively instead.

"Aish!" That usual sound of Yoongi whenever he was irritated or at least wanted me to think that he was.

But in a split second, his face beamed and he accidently flashed a gummy smile. Not to be exaggerating but it was a sight worth dying for. Yoongi's face changed, with that his whole demeanor changed as well. He looked like a completely different person when he smiled like that.

So, I had to say it, "Had I known it before, I would have kissed you all day and night, only for you to smile like that."

The only time I remembered going on a vacation was when I was a child and my father was alive at the time. We had gone to stay by the sea for a week. Even though most of the memories were faded, I could still see my father’s happy face in my mind sometimes.

This time it was the desert in contrast to the sea. Yoongi had planned to take a few days off from work and take me on a hike. I had never been so excited to look forward to something. We packed our stuff, got in his jeep and drove off.

The place looked so lively with many plants of vibrant colors. There were small and big mountains. The huge golden field stretched ahead of us. Yoongi parked his car at a side and we got off with our bags. After some hours of walking past the rocky mountains we found a suitable place to camp for the night.

I was excited at the prospect of sleeping in the open sky. Something about seeing the galaxy all night told me that it was a rare experience only a few fortunates could afford. I got another new reason to be grateful to Yoongi for the rest of my life.

“Oppa!” I called to check if he was already asleep since we had a long day.

“Hmm?” he replied.

“What does it feel like to look at the sky and you can see a part of eternity ahead of you?”

“Umm…” He thought for a moment before answering, “I don’t know! What do you feel about it?”

“I feel small. I feel insignificant. I feel…” I stopped and glanced at him, expecting a reaction.

He was still looking at the sky earnestly but hummed quietly at my response. It felt like I didn’t need to explain it further. Yoongi understood.

“Oppa!” I hesitantly called again, “Would you mind if I ask you something?”

“Ask away!” He shot me a pretending-to-be-annoying look and turned back to the sky.

I gulped before asking, “Why do you live alone?”

“For peace.” He sighed.

“I don't think I understand.”

Yoongi stayed quiet for some time and I felt like I shouldn’t have pushed the boundary. So, I turned on the other side and closed my eyes.

As I was dozing off, I could hear Yoongi’s deep soothing voice. He talked as if he was living the memory that he was speaking of. My tired eyes couldn’t cooperate. But my ears were all awoken.

“I was about your age, kitten, when I ran away from my parents seven years ago. Until now I never regretted that decision even though there were times I actually missed them. Because it was the only way i could bear to live with a sane mind. Solitary life offers you a kind of peace you wouldn’t know you needed until you can experience it. But…”

He stopped suddenly. I wanted to ask him to continue. I wanted to know what could be the ‘but’ when he himself said that he didn’t regret it. Apparently I didn’t need to. Because Yoongi spoke the rest of the words in a muffled voice as he fixed his posture to a comforting sleeping position.

“I never realized that it was happiness that I lacked in my life apart from peace. That was until I met you.”

His words kept me up through most of the night.

The next morning, it turned out I had a severe dust allergy. So, I woke up with a swollen face and a tight throat. The horror in Yoongi’s eyes as he realized something was wrong with me was another new thing I discovered his neutral face could do.

My feet were blistered from walking in the heat last day. So, after walking almost half of the way, Yoongi had to give me a piggyback ride until we reached his jeep.

I rested my head on his shoulders as he walked slowly carrying my weight on his back. And I spoke quietly in his ears.

“It was the same for me too, Oppa. I realized I can finally rely on someone without having to feel like a burden.”

I could hear the usual sound of the car being parked outside. I sprinted out of my room in no second to greet Yoongi. But instead I saw the man I was the most scared of before me. It was my step father.

“Long time, no see, huh?” He grinned at me with his disgusting rotten teeth.

“H… how d… did you find me?” I stammered as I took a step back.

“C’mon, now! Is that the way you greet your father?” The man began to walk towards me.

“Stop!” I yelled. “You’re not my father.” I wanted to scream it on his face but couldn’t bring myself to do so.

“Quit the game. It’s time to go home.” He quickly grabbed onto my wrist before I could turn back to run.

“Let go of me.” I screamed. “I’m not going anywhere from here.”

No matter how much I screamed or pleaded, he seemed to take no notice of that. He kept dragging me towards his van. I tried hard to fight him. But he was way too strong.

“Oppa!” I tried calling for Yoongi in vain. I knew he wouldn’t be able to hear me. He was miles away at work. He didn’t even know anything about the existence of my cruel step father.

As soon as he threw me inside his van I tried to get up and escape. But he grabbed onto my hair and pulled me back inside. I screeched my lungs out as a sharp pain ran through my head.

I woke up panting and drenched in sweat. I must have screamed in real life because Yoongi was already beside me, trying to read from my face just how bad of a nightmare I had.

I tried to speak but my breath was hitched, as always, whenever I cried. Yoongi moved a little closer and I threw myself at him, hugging him by his neck and sobbing loudly on his chest.

My grip on him tightened as he tried to move. I couldn’t let him go from my sight. I couldn’t let my nightmare come to reality.

Yoongi hugged me back and stayed that way for quite some time before whispering softly in my ears.

“Kitten!” He said, “I’m not going anywhere. Just give me a minute, okay?”

I sniffed and nodded my head as I released my hold on his neck. Yoongi went to the patio and came back quickly with his guitar. I tilted my head to the side in confusion.

Yoongi started to play a soft tune. It was a new one. I hadn’t heard him playing it before. I grabbed a pillow and leaned on the side of the bed. Then I closed my eyes to absorb the music. I noticed that it made me feel relaxed within a minute and I was able to speak again. He really knew how to calm me down.

Something that I had come to notice was that Yoongi never talked unless he knew for sure I was ready to speak again. So I had to make the first move. And I calculated just what to ask for in my head before I spoke.

“Oppa! I have a favor to ask for.” I stated quietly. I knew Yoongi wouldn’t be able to refuse.

He stopped the music and looked towards me. I said, “Can you please lie beside me until I sleep? Just tonight? I swear I won’t ask again.”

Yoongi closed his eyes and shook his head in frustration, “Aish! This girl and her whining. Yah!” He scolded me, still speaking softly though, “Don’t you think I’m spoiling you a little too much? You’re always asking for favors. How old do you think you are?...”

His rant went on about as much time as it took for him to make the bed. Then he lied in the corner, making an irritated face. I smilingly joined him without a word. Even though he would say that he didn’t like to be touched, he was undoubtedly the best cuddling partner one could ever wish for.

Special 8 Photo-folio Masterlist

My Personal Masterlist

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#bts #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts suga #suga #suga ff #suga fanfic #suga fanfiction #me myself and suga #suga photoshoot #suga photofolio #special 8 photo folio #min yoongi #min yoongi ff #min yoongi fanfic #yoongi ff #yoongi fanfic #yoongi #yoongi fluff #suga fluff #min yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #myg ff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, heavy sexual references, implied depression, infidelity, this one is very angsty, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, this part is not my favorite but it also is

part: 4/6

(other parts)  (masterlist)

When you both go to sleep that night,

What you say to yourselves:

It is just a kiss.

The truth:

Sebastian can’t forget your scent and your taste. And it’s everywhere. And it’s everything. He’s not sure if he can breathe anymore. He tries to put himself together but he loses; he lets a moan escape his quivering lips, as he comes hard, alone in bed, your lips a picture in his head.

You can’t forget his warmth. He’s long gone but his heat is making your body sweat. And it’s becoming annoyingly addictive. You try to fall into a dreamless sleep but you can’t. You grab onto your sheets, trying to shallow down his name when you have two fingers inside you.

It’s a study in remorse and guilt.

/

“Please breath,” you whisper in front of the bathroom mirror. “Breath in. And out.”

It’s been two days and one night since the doomed night. You have not heard of him ever since.

Your heart beats with the power of war tambours. You want to find him and tell him you’re sorry. You want to promise you don’t mean to cause any trouble to him. You want to let him know you don’t belong in his life. He will pass through you like cars pass red lights.

Violently.

“I’ll find him tomorrow.” You lie down and rest. “I’ll tell him everything tomorrow.”

/

Argyris can see the disorder reflecting in Sebastian’s eyes the second they pass in front of your door.

The Romanian drops his eyes on the floor and quickens his pace. Argyris is smart enough to not comment on it; at least not when they have an all night shooting in a while. He doesn’t want to distress him.

He doesn’t have a choice though; because Sebastian stops as soon as they reach the third floor.

“I’ve made such a mess.”  His voice can’t give away how nauseous he feels.

Argyris exhales loudly. This is precisely what he was afraid of. This is precisely what he had warn you both about.

“It’s not the right time” he starts quietly “We have a lot to do.”

Sebastian sighs.

He feels as though there will never be a right time for the two of you.

/

You can’t sleep. The sky is dark behind your closed windows. It’s almost four in the morning and everything around you is quiet; until it’s not anymore.

You can hear people laughing as they enter the building and you can hear the lady from the first floor yelling at them.

Suddenly you’re thankful for the terrible insulation as the whole place grows alive at the sound of noise. You’ve grown tired of silence.

You slowly open your door. You want to hear more.

Argyris is trying to apologize when the old woman starts calling them uncivil. You want to laugh.

But then you hear steps coming closer and, in a breath, he’s standing right in front of you.

“Did we wake you up?”

The others are still arguing in the lobby.

No, I couldn’t sleep, too busy thinking of your lips.

“Yes. All the noise scared me.”

He comes closer. He tries to clear his head of images he creates at night. Images with you.

“I’m sorry.” He says and it sounds like his chest feels lighter afterwards “I’m sorry for the noise.”

You nod, a blank expression across your face.

“We went for a few drinks after the shooting and people got drunk and dragged themselves hear to continue the party. It’s not Argyris’ fault.”

You turn your head away from him. You don’t dare to look at him for a long time.

“I can bet that.” Your words feel heavy inside your mouth. “He has never caused any trouble before you came.” Your words feel bitter inside your mouth.

He laughs. He calls your name. It makes your throat dry.

“You can see that I’m not the one who’s drunk and arguing downstairs.”

The space between you two starts to dwindle.

“You should go.” You whisper. “There is no reason for you to be here.”

He says nothing for a while. He just stays there looking at you with an unreadable expression. His breathing hits your face. It feels cold.

“Right.” He answers, building his guard back up, posture fixed and face blank.

And then with one last glance he leaves you alone.

/

You wake up not much later, the sun meeting the horizon.

You clean the kitchen and you water your flowers. You decide to take a walk. You haven’t done that in a very long time.

Not a lot of people are awake at that time. The streets are almost empty. You find that comforting. You pass the familiar streets and there’s a heady feeling in the air; the mouthwatering smell of fresh bread in the small bakery, the sound of a dog barking and an old man carrying around a barrel organ.

Lately you seem to forget how much beauty there’s around. Lately you seem think true beauty is only a pair of light eyes and the sound of a foreign accent. You feel selfish; your ardor for him has blinded you and everything seems too little.

You feel stupid.

/

And then you blink and it’s Sunday and you remember Argyris telling you they’re leaving on Monday to shoot scenes in some islands. You can’t decide if you want them to leave sooner or never at all.

The latter makes you forget to breath.

You take a shower. But water never washes tears completely away. They stick to your body and your pores like leeches.

The white towel feels rugged against your skin and you think of throwing it in the trash can. You don’t.

Instead, you get dressed and make a sandwich for dinner.

A knock at your door stops you.

You’ve missed that sound.

You close your eyes.

You feel as if you’re being thrown back in time, to the first time he came at your doorstep.

There’s another knock.

Maybe it’s not him. You take a step. Even if it’s him, it’s a dead end. You place your fingers around the handle, without making any motion to unlock.

You stand there for some seconds. There’s no more knocking. You smile at yourself. You were always good at hiding behind closed doors. Maybe not good enough; because now you can hear him talk.

“I’m glad you’re not here” his voice makes it sound like he’s aching “Or that you’re here and don’t want to open up.”

Your hand swifts around the knob.

“I’m glad, because if I was looking at you right now I would-”

He stops when he meets your gaze. You’re close now. And it’s hard not to wrap your arms around him, but you force yourself to just look straight ahead and do nothing.

“You would what?” You voice sounds like a mourning song.

You watch as he runs his fingers through his hair and lets a quite sigh.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

He laughs and it’s dry and sharp. And then he grabs you by the shoulder and you’re both inside your apartment and he closes the door with a shudder.

His eyes are swollen and for a moment you’re scared. Only for a moment.

“Yes I am.” He still has his arm around your shoulder. “What do you want me to say? That I would do everything? That I would kiss even your eyelids?”

You’re shivering. You feel almost sick.

“I can’t say any of those things.” He swallows hard around the lump in his throat.

You look at him starry-eyed. 

“You can.” You’re stepping closer to him. “You can say everything. There’s no one here. Just us.”

“That’s not enough.”  He says, with a look that promises all the sorrow and the suffering in the universe.

Your face splits.

“Then why did you come?”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“We’re leaving tomorrow.”

I know, you almost say. But he talks again, before you can say anything.

“I want you to come with us.”

You feel like choking on the world’s most expensive rosé. You start coughing.

He caresses your forehead, tucking some hair behind your ears.

“No, Sebastian, this is bad.”

His fingers can feel a tear dripping down your eyes and your cheeks and your lips. Slowly. He’s not certain if it’s yours or his.

“I know.” He blinks. “But we don’t have much time. And I want to be around you. We can try to be friends again.”

There's a feeling in your stomach that makes you want to throw up when he says the word friends. It makes your mouth taste sour. It's pathetic.

“I don’t know if I can do that.” You murmur.

And then his eyes pierce through yours.

And you think of that evening that you saw his eyes for the very first time. And you think how this version of events had never crossed your mind back then. Ever.

This was not supposed to happen.

You were not supposed to grow close to him.

And he was not supposed to show you the stars and dry out your salty tears.

And you were not supposed to kiss him.

And now he was not supposed to go.

“Please, promise me you’ll try to be friends with me.” He breaths into your lungs. “Promise me you’ll come.”

You smile softly. It reminds him of something sweet, like honey and cherries.

“I can try.”

Sebastian can feel his heart almost stop; like a clock that’s reminding him you do not have much time left together. This month will come and go and so will he.

And his heart knows.

So, he presses his forehead against yours and mumbles a sincere thank you.

It sounds poetic. But it’s more of a war declaration.

/

When you agreed to go with him on the trip, Sebastian fell into a world of bliss and anticipation. He had been worried you wouldn’t want to see him again after everything that occurred between you two. He had spent nights sleepless, just lying awake and trying to fathom things.

But not tonight. Tonight, he’s packing his bags and dreaming of the sea and you.

The sea. And you. Those are the things he loves most right now.

Love. It’s funny because sometimes Sebastian thinks he could have fallen in love with you, if only time allowed. But he has less than two months. He has calculated everything.

( 60 days )

( 59 nights )

He’ll probably never see you again afterwards.

He knows you were never meant to be.

He sighs.

The screen of his phone lights up and he’s certain it’s his girlfriend, because it’s 3am in Greece. Who else could it be? And that gives him an ache because he loves his girlfriend. But not right now.

He’s wrong though, it’s a message from you.

I’m sorry. I can’t come with you tomorrow. I’m sorry.

His heart falls.

It’s funny because sometimes Sebastian thinks he could have fallen in love with you, if only you allowed. Sometimes he thinks it’s better this way.

/

You read your message again and again. Your eyes scan each world like your whole life depends on them. You can’t go to the trip. It’d be like you set yourself up only to fall apart some time later. And you’d have no excuse. You don’t even know why you had said yes to him in the first place.

Perhaps because that’s what Sebastian wanted to hear and you love Sebastian. It’s very painful and all kinds of fucked up, but you do.

At first you try to close your eyes to it. You think, whatever it is between you, it’s not love. It must be something else.

But it’s not.

You always knew that.

Your heart splits at the realization.

/

Everyone is drinking and dancing. They finished shooting last night and Argyris decided to throw a small beach party. Once upon a time, Sebastian would have been thrilled about it. He always loved partying.

But those were the old days. All he can think about now, is a girl with braided hair and nails painted dark blue. That’s how you looked the last time he saw you.

It’s been a week since that time. It’s been a week and he’s getting desperate. And his curly haired co-star is moving her body too close for his liking. He’s trying to flee.

The woman smiles at him. He knows she probably asks for more than he can give. She smiles at him and she looks beautiful, so beautiful. He almost thinks it’s unfair and selfish of him to ignore such a beautiful smile.

But the woman’s hair is curly and not in a braid. And her nails are painted red instead of dark blue.

/

You don’t see him for one more week. You want to send him a message. Call him. Do something. You do nothing but check his Instagram profile almost every hour. It’s sort of becomes a habit.

At your room the walls whisper and scream about that night you fell asleep next to each other. You try not to listen.

Some nights you can picture him smiling at you and his smile feels far too heavy. Some nights you try to imagine a version of him that could grow old with you.

You can’t.

/

It’s 8:10 am. The first time you meet again. You call the elevator on your floor and when the door opens, he’s there. You didn’t even know he was back, before now. You almost get out and take the stairs instead. You hide yourself at the corner as far from him as possible. Sebastian notices for the first time how small you look.

“When did you come back?” Your mouth opens before you can stop it.

He turns to look at you. You can see he has a little tan. It looks great on him. Dammit.

“Last night.”

Your hands are shaking. You’ve missed his voice. Dammit.

Two more floors. You can make it.

You wait for him to turn his back at you again, but he doesn’t.

“Not coming with me,” his breathing breaks and his throat dries out instantly and he feels on the verge of collapsing “It didn’t help.”

It takes you a while to get what he’s saying. Why he’s saying it.

The elevator stops.

“Did it help you?” No, of course not.  

“Sebastian, please.”

You try to say something more but his voice stops you.

“Do you know any quiet places?”

You nod.

“Take me.” You shiver. “Please.”

The door opens and he grabs your hand.

You think you’ll never really understand Sebastian. He’s been so many people with you. A pretty face on screen, a stranger and then a friend. And then a lover? Maybe.

Something intimate, anyway.

Intimate, in the way pain is.

/

You’re at a small park just behind your house.

His hair has grown the last few days and he’s playing with a strand. You watch him and he watches back. He puts one hand in the pocket of his jeans and another at your cheek.

You had almost forgotten how it feels. Soft and rugged simultaneously. Almost like a transfusion, it revives you.

“We’ve screwed up, haven’t we?” His voice sounds like an old song.

You think you can hear your bones straining under the weight of his words.

“Yes, I guess we have.” You try to smile at him. Your lips don’t move upwards though. They can’t. You can feel your eyes get wet.

Sebastian can’t bear looking at you like that. He puts his hand behind your neck and brings you closer.

At that moment, by falling into his arms, you lost the battle.

Your body is cold, worn down by all the sleepless nights. You’re not sure he knows exactly what you feel at this moment. Neither do you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to the trip.”

“I understand.” He nods.

“Sebastian,” His breath hitches when you call his name. “I don’t know if I want to see you again.”

Lies.

He blinks. You don’t.

His face looks like he’s about to growl. Then his features relax.

A tear falls down your cheek and he’s quick to swipe it away. His eyes soften.

“I know,” he says in a whisper “We just keep hurting each other.”

You laugh bitterly. “When did I hurt you, Sebastian?” You push his hands away from your body. He doesn’t fight it.

He lets out a shaky breath.

“We spent the night together and you left without even saying something.” Your eyes are wide and rabid. “You keep acting like we’re something special and you have a girlfriend back home. And when I kissed you,” you pause for a second, remembering everything. “You kissed me back.”

You’re talking a little too loud. An old man passing by, turns to look your way. Your cheeks flash red.

“I wanted you to kiss me.” Your heart clenches. “I’m so sorry. I needed you to kiss me.”

He takes your hands in his. He looks at you half like he wants to apologize, half like he wants to kiss you again. Maybe, he does.

“Every time I see you, I want you to kiss me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.” Surprisingly his voice is steady and his hands grab yours tighter than before.

“It can’t be the truth.” You exhale roughly. “It will ruin everything.”

He looks at you for a while and then he does the most human thing possible; he wraps his arms around you. You hide your face at the crook of his neck.

Your breath hits his skin and it’s warm and tender.

“Not us.” He whispers in your hair. “It will save us.”

At that moment, Sebastian lost every battle.

/

Things you felt when Sebastian kissed you later that evening:

Divinity and tragedy. The feeling of going over the speed limit. The despair in his mouth. The booming in his heart. Fear for the distant future. His arms creating a shelter from the rest of the world. Affection. And affection. And affection.

Thing Sebastian felt when he kissed you later that evening:

Your heartache in his hands. The faded cherry lip balm in your lips. Your nails digging into his skin. A raw satisfaction. Madness and power. Your warmth making his heart beat fast. Freedom. And love, so much love.

/

It was never his intention to cheat on his girlfriend. Sebastian is not that kind of man. But then again, everyone is.

You try not to think about that while his mouth devours the skin above your collarbones. It makes your pores sweat and your core beat. Time spins by as you both lay on your bed.

It feels like he’s a sweet lover. Dewy eyes and warm fingertips. He makes love to you at sunset, when dreams start to form and cotton sheets stick to his skin. Yearning gets the best of him, his movements become sharper, his bones turn to steel.

You don’t mind. That’s what you need right now. Burning lips at the curve of your hips. You can almost taste it; the silage of his after shave. Eucalyptus. That’s what he tastes like.

/

He’s drawing archways in your skin. He touches the part between your breasts. Softly and gently at first. And then digging his teeth. He wonders if you want this as much as he does. It’s nearly tearing him apart. His ribs and his lungs are full of eagerness and you.

You, you, you.

To him, there’s nothing to do but kiss every inch of your body.

He knows there’ll be a cacophony soon. You’re both equipped with love that has an expiration date. But he wants to beat time. He wants to feel all of this for as long possible. For a minute, he becomes greedy. He wishes everyone would die, so that he and you could live in this world alone. But together.

It takes great strength to shake this thought out of his head.

���Please,” You say between heavy breaths and he's getting worried he's going to tell you he loves you. “Please I need you Seb.”

You've never called him that before. He can't decide if he likes that or the fact that you need him, more. He complies.

You feel him inside you as he's stroking between your thighs. You close your eyes, his heated sounds soothing everything. Your lips are red, from you biting at them.

He looks at you, with his hungry face and he finds everything about you so delicate and so beautiful.

He can keep going forever.

You're grateful.

/

Lying naked in your bed, you’re watching him struggle to keep his fevered blue eyes open. His hands still tangled in your hair.

The room smells of sweat and eucalyptus and everything in the universe feels softer.

“I think I love you.” He says, and as he falls asleep, he smiles. “I’ll tell you when I’m sure.”

“Please don’t.” That’s the most selfless you’ll ever be in your life.

/

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :)

tagging: @lharrietg @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic @itsaliceheree @sara-1705 @dorothea-hwldr @freshfreakoaftrash @drinkfantasy @christinamcdonnell​ @partypoison00​

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan angst #bucky barnes imagine #monday the movie #bucky barnes x reader #letyoudown

[adorerdraco]

Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: PART 5 ! of Draco accidentally falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and figuring out how to survive his new life while finding out a way to keep you in it. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, torture, blood, death eater stuff - the usual ! 

Words: 7.8K

A/N: FINDING WAYS TO PROLONG THIS SERIES !!!! 😼 AND SORRY IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES ITS VERY LATE AND I NEVER CATCH THEM 😔 but omg my little week long hiatus I took was against my will but i’m back and healthy again and can finally think out sentences again lmao !!! also i DO own gif 

Draco stared at the vast, dark marble ceiling as he lied awake. His black silk sheets were strewn across his king bed in a lofty heap from when he had woken up. There was a sheen layer of sweat across his skin, but his room held no warmth and the draft that was coming in from his open windows was nothing less than freezing.

There wasn’t a moment where he had enough peace to sleep, but when he ultimately did; he always regretted ever drifting off when he felt the hot, ravenous feeling that ran through his body when he would jolt awake from a nightmare with his heart thundering against him and the inability to differentiate reality from a subconscious image. He would lie back down, breathing unevenly, and fixate on a random crack in the ceiling and let his now very tortured conscience remind him, “it all happened, you can't escape it!”

And that little malicious voice in his head was right. The horrible images in his mind weren’t made up or conjured by his brain - they were very real and he had lived through them.

He remembered the agonizing decision he had to make when he left the love of his life, jinxed and in hysterics in an abandoned classroom. He remembered his Headmaster, who he had cornered and disarmed who still offered him genuine help and guidance despite the wand pointed in his face. He remembered his once-favorite Professor, kill his Headmaster who he thought for maybe a second would be able to help him. He remembered bounding down the steps of the astronomy tower, wanting to topple over and vomit while he followed closely behind a billowing cape and several sniggering and smug Death Eaters into the halls of the unsuspecting school. He remembered his aunt wreaking havoc on the Great Hall with pure joy as he could only watch in horror while she shattered the windows in her celebration. He remembered walking through a maze of trees in a dazed stupor towards Hagrid’s hut, Bellatrix giggling maniacally beside him as she skipped past him. He remembered seeing Harry run towards them, hurling any hexes and curses he could think of towards Snape while he scurried off. He remembered meeting his mother at the momentarily failing barrier, her hand wrapping tightly around his arm before she apparated them home. He remembered the cold wooden floors underneath him and the way the Manor’s structure seemed to be crashing down onto him as he tried to catch his breath and collect his thoughts.

When he would finish going over every mistake he had made that night, and every choice he could have made instead, he would turn over in his bed and stare out the large window in his room where he could see the cloudy night sky and the nature swinging around in the wind like it was in a constant state of what seemed like an approaching tornado. He would wonder about you, and what you were doing and what you thought of him. He wondered if you meant what you said - if you would truly never forgive him for leaving you there. He wondered if you thought it was him who killed Dumbledore and how you probably saw him as a killer now. He was in ceaseless disarray of wonder, a painful wonder that he couldn’t escape.

He didn’t dare try to owl you, especially with Bellatrix around the house as a very vigilant guard dog that noticed anything and everything. There were barely any opportunities in which he could leave the Manor, not by foot, by broom, or apparate. He was a prisoner in his own home, just as much as he was in his mind. The increasing amount of Death Eaters that came and went every day made him feel more unsettled than ever, all of them giving him intimidating and sneering looks as if he was a joke while they forcefully turned the Manor into their place of 'work'.

The day Lucius was released from Azkaban, Draco felt a slight hope that things would improve, that his father could somehow find a way to fix things for them as he always had and the young boy could finally step down from the responsibility he felt for his family. But what he saw in the foyer of his home wasn’t Lucius Malfoy; influential, formidable and feared by many - he saw a shell of a man who had lost all sense of who he was and had paid greatly for his failures. He recalled how his father had embraced him in a weak and shuddering hug, clinging onto him as a spew of desperate words incessantly flew from his mouth without making much sense. 

He knew immediately then that his father couldn’t swoop in and fix all his problems, and his mother couldn’t be left alone in all this. He was stuck, whether he liked it or not, and he had to follow through on anything and everything the Dark Lord expected from him or wanted out of his family.

He hated the way his home was defiled with death and wickedness. He hated the way there were lifeless bodies littered around the living room sometimes. He hated the echoing cries and pleas of those who were locked up in the dungeon below. He hated seeing Voldermort use his home as his headquarters, pacing the room in a self-given majesty and humiliating his father every chance he could get. The only reason the Malfoys weren’t killed off yet was, in Draco’s opinion, to be used as an example of what happens when you fail the Dark Lord, to be used as malicious entertainment, and to see just how far someone could be tortured from the inside. Draco did mend the cabinet, but he didn’t kill Dumbledore or die trying as his master had desired. He was always visibly apprehensive of everything he had to do and every order he was given. He wasn’t willingly cruel or vile and hated the idea of actually hurting anyone. His father had failed every mission he was given, and his mother wasn’t a Death Eater, to begin with. They were just there, as pawns and as sadistic pleasure. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was subsequently, a rare day that the Manor was empty. No one was walking through the halls or running their mucky shoes on the expensive upholstery of the furniture as they relaxed into it. Even his father was out, along with Bellatrix, which left only him and his mother at home.

Narcissa Malfoy was just as arrogant as her husband, valued the pro-pure-blood ideals she grew up with, and always appeared to be very cold and haughty. Yet there was one thing that she valued above most; her family. She was entirely devoted to her son and husband and loved them profoundly. It was for Draco she worried for the most and would do anything for. It was for Draco she would risk everything for and go against the Dark Lord for. 

So on the night she brought her son back home, and he was breaking down in her arms with cries about a girl she had never heard of - it piqued her curiosity more than she wanted to admit. She had asked Draco who you were a handful of times since that night, but he always refused to answer. She even went as far as asking Snape, pulling him aside one night behind a dark pillar in her home as everyone was leaving and whispered secretly to him.

“Severus, I know I’ve asked too much of you already but I need to know this,” she rushed to say in a very hushed and imperceptible tone but she knew he had heard her. He raised an eyebrow, looking at her quizzically. 

“What might that be?”

“On the night Draco came home, he was calling out for someone,” she began, “do you know if he was involved with anyone by the name of Y/N?”

She could have sworn she saw a twinge of muscles move in his cheek, but he only shook his head shortly from side to side.

“I apologize, Narcissa, but I know no student by that name,” he sighed. “Draco spent most of his time mending the vanishing cabinet, I doubt he had time to be venturing out in his love life.”

She wanted to believe him. But she couldn’t brush off the intuition that was beating against her gut, nearly screaming at her that she was being lied to and there was more to the story. It’s not like she wanted the information to hurt you or to judge, she simply wanted to know who had broken through to her son during the year he was the most closed off. Who had impacted him so greatly, that now that it was seemingly over left him in shambles and withdrawn almost completely. If anything, she wanted to help. And if there was a possibility where she could, she would help Draco take it if it meant it would make his life easier. There was nothing more she wanted for him, free of pain and filled with hope, and if a certain individual would help her get him there - she would be willing to see it through.

With the opportunity of everyone gone, Narcissa trailed up to Draco’s room, letting her knuckles fall softly against the wooden double doors three times.

“Draco, dear, would you like to join me on a walk?”

She heard a shuffling from behind the door and a sharp sniffle, taking in a deep breath to prepare herself to see his poorly hidden tears that she knew she would be met with.

As she predicted, the doors opened and the blond stepped out of his room, lowering his red-rimmed eyes to the ground so he wouldn’t have to meet her worried gaze. He looked well-groomed as always, but she took notice that his skin seemed gray and dull. His eye bags were deep and nearly black from all his crying and lack of sleep. When she linked her arm through his, she felt the slight weight he had unwillingly lost in the past month that he’s been home. Her mind was spinning with concern, promising herself there that she was ready to do whatever she could for him, anything she could.

She led them out of their cold and darkened home, stepping out into the gardens that sat behind the Manor in a large vastness of gorgeous flower arrangements of whites, greens, and reds. There was a large marble fountain placed in the middle of the garden, spewing water smoothly from a small bowl that spilled into a larger one beneath it. It was boxed in with stone and surrounded with red amaryllis flowers, giving anyone enough space to sit around it without being splattered by droplets of water. 

It was a gloomy day, but a warm afternoon sun had peaked through the clouds and cast a glowy light around the house that she hadn’t seen in ages. It made her feel hopeful as she walked her and Draco through the garden, thinking of ways on how to approach him. She knew he had shot her down and changed the subject every time she brought up your name, even if it was in privacy, and she pleaded to the stars that this would ultimately be the chance she would get to find out. 

When they reached the fountain, she sat them down and watched as Draco slouched, silent and staring distantly at his shoes.

“Dear, I know you hate for me to bring this up,” she started slowly, shaking her head as she spoke, “but I want to know who she is. I want to be able to help you, and maybe even her. I know you’re in love, I see it in your eyes and I see it now that you’re apart. I know everything else certainly applies to how you’re feeling, but there’s a look for heartbreak, and you have it.”

Draco looked up at her, finally peering into her worried eyes as he contemplated what she said and what she offered. The last time he told someone about you, he was reprimanded and denied any sort of help, only suggestions for abandonment were given. He wanted to tell his mother all about you, but he wished it was under happier circumstances, however. 

He wished it would be him coming home during the summer, no Voldermort or Death Eaters in his life or his family’s, and arriving with you by his side after sending an owl to his parents about the new love in his life he wanted them to meet. He would boast about you and your smarts, care, ambitions, and beauty. He would make sure his parents understood just how important you were to him and just how amazing you truly were. He imagined their inevitable surrender and allowing him to invite you on one of their luxurious trips to somewhere beautiful and expensive. He pictured a yacht ride in Italy, your skin glowing and your smile bright as you gazed at him in delight under a warm summer sun. Or a grandeur trip to France, walking around the Parisian streets with you as he spoiled you with gifts and delicious gourmet food while ending the night under the Eiffel Tower. He wanted to see you leave on shopping trips with his mother, the two of you coming back with heavy bags and new memories while his mother would walk by him and secretly whisper, “I love her!” to him. He wanted to flaunt you, and boast and gloat all about you - but the circumstances now were dreadful, and to talk about how he had failed you made him want to cry all over again. 

His mother waited patiently for his reply, clasping her hands together in her lap as he stayed quiet while he decided. He was so used to sulking and torturing himself on his own in the past month, that seeing a genuine look of concern and desire to help pushed him into making his final resolve.

“I met her around the beginning of last year,” he breathed out finally, “her name is Y/N Y/L/N, we had a Potions class together but I met her in one of the corridors where we accidentally bumped into each other. I sprained a finger trying to catch myself and she healed it without a second thought. She wants to be a Healer at St. Mungo’s after Hogwarts, and she’s very skilled with her wand. She’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met and the kindest. She always listened to me, and helped me, and encouraged me. She always reassured me when I needed it, and if it weren’t for her I don’t think I would have mended the cabinet or even had the energy to wake up every day. She stayed with me even when I told her the truth about everything. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way she does, I can’t explain it, she makes me feel-”

“Alive?” His mother softly finished for him. “She makes you feel alive.”

“Yes,” he nods fervently, “I love her and I failed her. I don’t think there’s anything I can do now and neither can you.”

“I beg to differ,” she briskly interjects. “It’s never too late for anything, Draco. There’s always an opportunity to make things right, as long as you try. She at least deserves an explanation and an apology, and it will be up to her to decide what she wants to do. She sounds wonderful, and I’m glad you met someone who brings out your best.”

Draco agreed wordlessly, his tears sitting at the brink of his eyelids begging to be released as he mulled over everything that was said. He knew where you lived, having learned the fact somewhere in your relationship when you were talking about your childhood and where you were from. He knew the place you called home and the address that came with it that you constantly reminded him of in hopeful jokes that he would visit you over the summer.

“There’s no one here, no one would know you’re gone,” Narcissa encourages swiftly as if she knew what he was thinking about. “It’ll be a few hours before anyone returns. Go to her.”

“But if I become involved with her again, he’ll find out, won’t he?” He insinuates in distress. “The reason I left her was to keep her safe from him, I don’t want her anywhere near this.”

“He won’t find out,” she promised, “I’ll make sure of it. Go.”

There was a hopeful and elating sensation that ran through his veins as he stood up, turning back to look at his mother as she nodded at him optimistically. He suddenly lunged towards her, giving her a tight hug and muttering thank you’s to her like a broken record before running out of the garden towards the front gate of the Manor.

As soon as he reached his exit, he used his newfound Death Eater ability to half-apparate himself into a thick black cloud of smoke that allowed him to fly over to where you were - not giving a care in the world if he were seen by muggles as he recklessly took every shortcut he knew towards your hometown.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

There was a slight breeze in the cloudy air that brought you comfort. It was cold, but refreshing - a sharp contrast against the burning feeling that never seemed to leave your body. You were back home now, in your small little town in England that held little to no wizards.

You spent a lot of your time wandering around the local stores and cafes nearby, mingling with strangers as you told them fake life stories for fun. There was also the small forest behind your house you regularly enjoyed, and all the small hidden creatures that you encountered along the way. You always brought along your family cat, the chunky orange tabby always finding his way for you outside of the forest when you got too far in, or if he sensed there was nearby danger and would warn you. Sometimes you would talk to him, complain to him about everything that was bothering you and he would respond to you now and then with broken meows and chirps that made you feel like he understood, even though he didn’t. It made you feel less alone.

Of course, you had your family that worried over your changed behaviors. They weren’t oblivious. They noticed the puffy eyes, the sniffles, and the quiet sobs that escaped under the space of your bedroom door when they would pass by in the middle of the night to get a glass of water from the kitchen. They noticed your sudden quietness, and your lack of interest in everything and hardly found you in the house. You were always out and about, trying to find anything and anyone to distract yourself from what was going on in your mind.

 It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to your family, even though they had incessantly offered their support, you just knew they wouldn’t understand. They would want to know about Draco, his family, and their beliefs. They would eventually figure out of his involvement with the Dark Lord and the looming second Wizarding war. They wouldn’t approve, and you didn’t want to hear the scolding you would get for ever giving him the time of day. You were bitter enough as it was, and the last thing you wanted to hear was how bad Draco was and how you were better off without him.

But even if you were supposed to be better off without him, a life where he wasn’t in it didn’t feel good at all. It felt empty and lost. You were used to his presence always being around you and how he was always a few minutes away from you. He was always available to you for anything and willingly; for company, affection, comfort, reassurance, love, everything. You hated the fact that you let yourself get attached, especially when you knew deep down the direction the relationship was going in.

There were days when you would wake up okay. Days where your mind blocked out your feelings entirely, including Draco and all the memories that came with him. There were days when you felt like you had finally forced yourself to move on, but always finding it to wear off when you’d clamber into bed at night and your brain started illustrating everything you didn’t want to remember. The silver band bracelet he had gifted you was in constant movement from your wrist and jewelry box, hidden on the days you wanted to forget him or sitting pretty on your skin on the days you missed him the most. As much as it hurt to think about him and remember him, you couldn’t stop the way your whole being drifted towards him.

You were currently stepping over a big fallen tree trunk covered in thick green moss, your cat following closely by your leg as he pranced and jumped over all his obstacles. You walked mindlessly around the greenery, not taking notice in the shape of the leaves of the fern you were placing your hand upon to move out of your way. It wasn’t until you felt the sharpened ends of the leaves dig deep into your skin that made you recoil your hand back in pain, a slight hiss leaving your mouth as a small gash began to form with blood flowing quickly upwards out of the new cut. Your hand was held in the air as you frantically looked around for anything that would stop the bleeding that was now dripping sleekly down your arm.

“Stupid ministry and underage magic,” you mutter under your breath. Your wand was in your pocket, begging to be used, but the idea of being sent a letter from the ministry that was now under the Voldermort's control quickly dispersed any desire you had to use it. “Come on, kitty. Let’s go back home, please.”

'Home' was a word the cat did understand. He bumped your leg with his head before meowing loudly at you as he began trotting off to your right side towards the exit of the forest. He moved stealthily, dodging in and out of everything that was in his path as you attempted to follow in his cleared steps. Every time you would trip or rest briefly, he would stop ahead of you and wait until you would walk towards him again before he started back on the journey.

When you finally saw your house in the distance, you sighed in relief at the thought of your first aid kit waiting patiently for you in the bathroom cupboard. And belatedly, your feet hit the stone path that led home, skipping slightly with your hand in the air before nearly toppling over your cat as he stopped abruptly in your path. You moved out of the way, last minute, and very clumsily before eyeing him suspiciously.

He was looking up at the sky, his ears pulled back and the fur on his back straightening up as his eyes frantically searched around the clouds above him. He wasn’t hissing like he normally did when he felt something dangerous coming, he looked more confused and alert than anything. You searched the sky with him for a minute before concluding he was being too wary so you bent down and pick him up with your uninjured hand, nearly scooping him into your arms until he carefully swiped at your arm.

“You’re being dramatic, there’s nothing there,” you exclaim at him irritably. You were stumped, on one hand, literally, you were still bleeding though it had significantly slowed down and was now just coagulated blood, and on the other hand, you couldn’t leave the cat outside because of the number of dead critters he left in his past outdoor ventures around the yard and his sometimes week-long disappearances that left everyone in the house worried.

In just a few seconds of your thinking, he had sprung forward and rushed towards the large open field that was a few feet away from your house. Although it was summer, it had been rainy and allowed the grassy field to flourish in tall and wild greenery. This did not help as you watched the fluff of orange disappear into the small jungle that lied ahead and you began to sprint after him, spotting his bushy tail in your vision every time he jumped over something. If you could use magic, this little ordeal would have gone much more different - but you couldn’t.

You chased him until the very near end of the field, spotting him sitting calmly as he looked back at you as if he was expecting you. Rolling your eyes, you reached towards him again to pick him up, if he wanted to go back to the house scratching and biting then so be it. You trained your gaze on him, trying your best to grab him as carefully and as slyly as you could. But as soon as your hand landed on the silky fur of his back, you heard a soft whooshing sound a few feet away in front of you and a very audible shuffle of dead grass crunching underneath someone's shoes as they moved slowly. 

You didn’t look up, all of a sudden feeling scared at who could have magically appeared in front of you, and instead, you waited for your cat to hiss and attack, but he sat himself down in a loaf as if he were in the most comfortable place in existence. This is when you looked up, and the sight before you was like an invisible force that knocked you onto your bottom as you jumped back in surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

What was supposed to sound like a concerned question, came out a little ruder than you had intended, almost seething at the boy that was fearfully staring down at you.

“I’m sorry,” Draco ran his hands over his pallid face in distress, “I shouldn’t have come.”

There was an awkwardness that hung in the air. The two of you were finally where you had wanted to be, together, but now that you were face-to-face it couldn’t have been more perplexing. He didn’t know how to begin, and you weren’t sure if you should even listen to him. It was like a weird staring competition, he was taking in everything about you as you were doing the same to him. It was obvious you were both a wreck, and the damage was apparent on him the most as he was dealing with his Death Eater status now more than ever.

“Your hand is bleeding,” he stated suddenly. You didn’t have time to answer before he had cautiously walked over to you and sat down beside you in a flattened patch of grass. “Let me see it.”

Like magnets, your hand instantly fell into his cold grasp without you thinking about it. You eyed him carefully and quietly, observing him as he turned your injured hand over in his and inspected your gash like you had done many times in the past for him. You didn’t stop him when he took his wand out of his pocket and waved it over your wound, murmuring a familiar spell that closed the cut with ease, a small pink scar left in its place. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to do that,” you say lightly. “Thank you.”

“I learned from the best,” he smiles faintly. 

Neither of you moved from your sitting spots, and neither of you said anything. He would meet your eyes now and then and search them with such a pained expression that it took everything in you not to just throw yourself into his arms and cry in relief that he was there.

“I know it was Snape who killed Dumbledore and not you,” you break the silence apprehensively. “Harry told me.”

“Potter told you?” He grimaced, but he let out a breath of relief. “I would’ve thought the git would have loved to throw me under the bus. I didn’t even know he was there, then I see him chasing us down-”

“Draco, why are you here?” You asked him again, gingerly this time and cutting him off from his rambling in hopes that he would just cut to the chase on his unannounced appearance. He sighed, looking down at his now muddy, once expensive dress shoes.

“I needed to see you,” he answers honestly. “And I wanted to apologize for how I left things.”

You peered up at him with a raised eyebrow, bringing your knees up to your chest so you could rest your head against them as you faced him. “Let’s hear it.”

“I’m serious,” he frowned. “I’m sorry I used my wand against you. I’m sorry I shut you out. I’m sorry I left without giving you much of an explanation. I’m sorry I abandoned you and disappeared off the face of the Earth. I’m sorry I broke my promise that I would never leave you again.”

“Draco-”

“No, wait, I need you to understand that I thought leaving you was the only thing that would keep you safe. I would have never forgiven myself if I let you die for trying to help me, even if you say you’re ready to accept whatever fate is in store for you, I’m not. But I don’t want to run anymore, I don’t want to be away from you, I can’t do it and I always think I can let you go for your safety, but I can’t.”

There was a brief period of stillness as you contemplated his apology. Your head moved to fall in between your knees as your hands began to fiddle with the long strands of grass beneath you. You were stripping it and pulling at it, hoping that there would be a hidden message underneath the earth that would give you an answer on what to say or what to do, but it wasn’t possible. The only thing you found was the loose pitiful tears slipping down your face that seeped into spots of dry soil. Draco stayed wordless beside you, the only sound coming from him was uneven breaths as he stressed over your reaction.

You were caught in between wanting to give in, wanting to forgive him, and hug him and kiss him to make up for all the tortuous time lost, but there was also a part of you that was now afraid to trust. You wanted to, so badly, but everything felt so unpredictable. You weren’t sure whether you could handle him leaving again if he had to. And if he were to die at the end of all of this? There was no way you’d be able to recover from a loss like that. He was on an unforeseeable path that held no clear outcome.  

“I’m scared, Dray,” you sniffle, closing your eyes tightly as you began to answer him. “We’re not kids anymore fooling around at school. Everything is getting more real by the day. How am I supposed to be comfortable with the idea that you might-”

You stopped yourself from finishing, a soft sob escaping your throat at the near mention of his possible death. You felt him scoot closer to you, stopping about a few inches away from your shuddering body as he placed a reassuring hand on your lower back.

“You say you can’t accept the decision I made when I said I’m ready for whatever fate lies ahead of me,” you mumble miserably. “Well, I can’t accept yours either.”

“I won’t make any more promises I can’t keep,” he starts warily, “but I can promise you that as long as I’m around, I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever. And as far as my future goes, I promise that I’ll do everything and anything I can to survive this.”

You had unhooked your arms from around your legs, bringing them underneath you as you sat yourself up to face him better. He was staring at you intently, hopeful gray eyes boring into yours with every emotion under the sun flashing through them. He didn’t show it, but he felt like at any moment he was going to faint. He had never seen such uncertainty on your face and it killed him, but he tried to remain stoic as he spoke and kept a brave face at every concern you had. He couldn’t guarantee you anything that lied ahead, but there was also nothing he wouldn’t do for you now.

“Okay,” you agree, finally giving him the consolation he had been woefully praying for. “I believe you, we can get through this together.”

There wasn’t another second spared before you speedily moved out of your sitting position to pounce him with a tight and suffocating hug. It was desperate and smothering, his arms wrapped tightly around your lower back as he pressed you deeply into his body as if you were going to disappear any second.

You didn’t care that you could barely breathe against his chest or that your knee was digging into the mud below you. It was the most relieving feeling in the world, finally being in his arms again with new hopes and possibilities that always found a way to present themselves. It was one of the many reasons that you knew he was the one for you. Everything with him felt easy, even if the world was crashing down around you. He could melt away all your pain and worries with one look, touch, or words. He felt like home and heaven all in one.

It came to you in the middle of your longing hug, that there was always going to be something looming over the two of you in the current state that the wizarding world was in. There’s no point in wasting time when everything could change overnight, just as it had that unforsaken day at Hogwarts before you were dragged home the next day. There was no reason for trying to stay away from him when it was everything you wanted and you knew then that you needed to take advantage of whatever time you had left with him.

“I'm sorry for saying I would never forgive you that night,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “And for being stubborn.”

“You had all the right to be angry with me,” he laments.

“But it didn’t make it okay,” you nuzzle yourself deeper in his embrace, frowning to yourself as you recalled the night.

He looked down at you, a pang of guilt hitting him when he saw the corners of your lips pulled down in sadness. He leaned down and carefully placed a kiss on your temple, lingering for a bit before moving away and muttering, “nothing about that night was okay.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

There wasn’t an inkling of an idea how long the two of you were sat outside, holding on tightly to each other as you filled each other in on any news that happened in the last month since you’ve seen each other. The only indication that let the two of you know that time had surely passed was that the sun had begun setting behind the valley in the distance. The moon now had a faint appearance in the purplish evening sky that was for the first time in a while, free of the heavy cloud covers.

You listened attentively as he told you about the Manor and how it was being used as a Death Eater meeting place. He told you about his father being released from Azkaban as a treat for the Malfoy’s since he had fixed the cabinet and disarmed Dumbledore for Snape to finish, unknowing to him that he would. He explained to you how ghostly he felt when he was venturing out of the school that night. He even scarcely described the horror that had gone on in the dead of night, when victims had been brought back to the house for ‘interrogations’ and the way their screams would keep him wide awake for days.

You nearly felt sick to your stomach the longer he went on, empathizing with him delicately when he would sometimes stop talking to take a deep painful shaky breath. The guilt that was eating away at him wasn’t hidden or pushed down, he expressed it very obviously and you couldn’t picture how he managed to hold a straight face in the sea of terrors he had encountered.

“You’re nothing like them,” you whispered tenderly to him when you saw the distant broken look that clouded his eyes. “You are good, Draco. Not once have I ever changed my mind about that.”

He was slipping, far and fast into the depths of his despair. His new life away from school was eating away at him now that he was forced to experience it upfront. He wasn’t cut out for it, nor did he want anything to do with it. It physically pained you that there was nothing you could do except offer him what you’ve always been able to provide; a listening ear and to remind him that he’s not the evil monster he deludes himself to be. 

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore,” he mumbled gloomily, taking your hand into his as he turned to look at you. “I want to hear about you and your summer.”

“It wasn’t pleasant or anything, honestly,” you shrug, “I spent most of it in the village nearby and the forest behind my house with my cat, who by the way knew you were coming somehow.”

You both suddenly turned to look for the orange tabby who had seemingly disappeared without either of you noticing sometime throughout the evening. 

“Where is the little critter so I can thank him for leading you to me,” he chuckled softly as you rolled your eyes.

“He’s probably back at home now but I’ll pass the message,” you bite back a smirk.

Draco felt the familiar fluttering of pixies in his stomach as he looked at you, a sense of exhilaration and delight shocking his body from its usual anguished state. He was so far gone in you and he never wanted to leave the feelings you left him with and with such little effort. He couldn’t count how many times he had the same thought in his head when he was around you, much like your own, he knew with you was where he was at his calmest and his happiest. It was like a chunk of agony being released from him that made him feel like he could breathe again without feeling like he was going to drown. Even if it was just for a few hours, he was always grateful for moments he shared with you and the comfort you brought him.

“I love you,” he said dazed, eyes locking onto yours intimately. “I hope you know that.”

"I love you,” you repeated, a coy smile making its way onto your features. 

“You know,” his thumb began mindlessly running over your knuckles as he spoke, “if it wasn’t for my mother knocking some sense into me earlier, I wouldn’t have had the great idea to show up here.”

He looked over at you when he felt you tense up completely, slightly worried at first before a small amusement quickly replaced his fear when he noticed you were gaping at him with wide wondrous eyes. 

“You told her about me?”

“All about you,” he nods, “I accidentally let your name slip a while back and she’s been asking me about you ever since. I didn’t want to say anything in case someone heard, but everyone was gone today and she got it out of me.”

“What did she say about me?” You asked him timidly as if it was the most important thing in the world for you.

He chortled quietly at your nervousness, “she said she thinks you’re wonderful and she’s glad we met. She pushed me to come and make things right with you and she offered to look out for us.”

There was an intense delight that beat against your chest at his answer. The only other person in his life who’s opinion he valued the most above all had made one about you, and it was one that was better than anything you could have ever hoped for. Narcissa Malfoy had vouched for you before she’s even properly met you and it left you feeling astounded and beyond appreciative.

“When you get home, please send her my regards,” you plead heartily, your hands clutching onto the lapels of his suit jacket as he laughed lightly. 

“I will, I will,” he smiles, “I have to be home soon, so she’ll hear about it within the next half hour.”

Draco pulled you up with him as he stood up, both of you finally stretching out your limbs with groans and sighs of relief from the tension of sitting for so long.

As you peered up at him, you let your hands slide up into the platinum blond strands that looked brighter than ever under the now bright moonlight. He placed a hand over one of your wrists, a smile growing on his face as he noticed the silver band sitting warmly against your skin. He leaned forward to press his forehead against yours, letting himself stay there for a minute as he tried to revel in the last few moments of peace he was going to try and prolong for the rest of his night.

“I’ll be back soon,” he cupped your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazed delicately over your cheekbone as you leaned into his touch. “Right back with you.”

“I’ll be waiting, Malfoy,” you grin.

For the first time that night, he ducked down and pressed his lips soft against yours. The gentleness quickly dissipated into longing and fervor as he kissed you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do, seeking the closeness and union he missed so desperately. Neither of you made any move to pull apart as you melted into each other, basking completely in the feeling of being so close to one another like this again.

If it wasn’t for you worrying about his timely arrival back home before everyone, you would have allowed him to keep you like that forever. But much to your dismay, you tapped him lightly against his chest that let him know it was really time for him to leave if he wanted to keep his secret trip, secret.

You stood there sadly, watching him as he unwillingly backed away from you and whispered one more goodbye to you before he disappeared into the sky in a ghost of black smoke, the aroma of his cologne still lingering in the air and a swollen feeling against your lips that left you feeling fuzzy.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

The Malfoy Manor was staring eerily back at Draco when he finally arrived back in front of the main gate of the home. It was deathly quiet and dark, only a small light could be seen from the living room as he approached further into the property.

He swiftly ran up the steps, hand falling carefully onto the brass doorknob of the front entrance, stopping in his tracks completely when he heard a mixture of hushed angry voices.

“I told you, Bella,” he heard his mother exclaim fiercely. “He only went out to clear his head.”

“Clear his head of what?” his aunt sneered. “He’s falling weak, Cissy. He should be running around in joy that the Dark Lord has him in his inner circle.”

“My son is not weak, don’t you think this can all be a little overwhelming for someone who hasn’t even finished his schooling?” His mother defended him and he could picture the exact sneer on her face as she spoke.

“I want to know where he went,” Bellatrix says hotly, “he’s been gone too long.”

Draco ran through a list of excuses in his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat when he decided on one and put on a straight face as he turned the doorknob, cautiously stepping into the dimly lit living room where both his parents and aunt were waiting for him.

“Ah, there he is,” his father announced as he was the first one to see the boy clambering inside.

“I’m sorry I went off for so long,” Draco spoke up before anyone could ask. “I remember someone mentioning they had spotted Potter around a village nearby so I tried to go look for him.”

“Did you?” Bellatrix chastised. “And nothing?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged with a feigned annoyance.

“And you were alone?” She added with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, all by myself.”

Narcissa gave her sister a pointed look as she walked up to Draco, hand gripping tightly onto his arm before leading him away from the surprise interrogation and towards the foot of the stairs where she stopped him hastily.

“How did it go?” She asked almost inaudibly.

“Y/N sends her regards,” he whispered, “thank you.”

He gave his mother a warm hug good night before he hurriedly bounded up the stairs, looking down towards the living room once more where Bellatrix was eyeing him carefully. He decided on giving her a curt nod before vanishing into his bedroom and letting himself fall against the shut double doors, a large exhale of relief slipping past his lips as he was now safe to freely recall the night with a dazed smile he didn’t want to let go of.

PART 6

TAGLIST:

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APOLOGIES IF I FORGOT ANYONEEE 🥺 BUT I REALLY HOPE EVERYONE ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER EVEN THO IT WASNT TOOO EVENTFUL ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I GOT ACTION FOR THE NEXT PIECES THO JUST WAITTTT

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[darkverrmin]

Break

a/n: a small reminder to all of you hardworking bees that it's okay to take a break sometimes. ❤

***

Geralt wakes up from their neighbor's dog loud barking. Rolling to lie on his back, he notices the other side of the bed is cold. Geralt picks up his phone from the nightstand.

03:34 am.

With a deep sigh, Geralt gets up from bed, throwing on his boxers, and pads towards the living room. He finds Jaskier in the kitchen, hunched over a bunch of books and files, tapping something on his computer. With another deep sigh, Geralt leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Jaskier".

Jaskier lifts his head, noticing Geralt's presence just now. "Oh, Geralt! Hi! How come you're awake?".

Geralt resists the urge to roll his eyes. "How come you're awake?".

Jaskier focuses his gaze back to his screen. "I'm just finishing this one thing here and then I'll come to bed".

"That's what you said three hours ago". Geralt tries not to sound too exasperated.

"I know, I know" Jaskier replies, barely looking up at Geralt. "I'm sorry, love. Work's been crazy the last couple of months. I can't fall asleep till I finish this".

Geralt sighs again, this time quietly. "I understand. But you need to sleep, Jask. You need to eat. When was the last time you've eaten today?".

Jaskier mumbles something incoherent in response and this time Geralt does roll his eyes. "Alright, I've had enough. Let's go".

Jaskier lifts his head, only to see Geralt disappearing into the bedroom. He returns a couple of minutes later, dressed in a pair of black jeans and a black T-shirt, holding both his and Jaskier's coats.

"Let's go for a walk" Geralt says, walking past Jaskier towards the door, dropping Jaskier's coat onto his lap. Jaskier huffs in response, trying to protest, but one look from Geralt tells him there's no use.

***

The walk across their neighborhood is nice. The air is cool and fresh after the late afternoon's rain. Geralt's hand in his feels warm and comforting.

Geralt buys him something to eat at a local diner, despite Jaskier's protests. It's only after the first bite that Jaskier realizes how hungry he was.

They walk towards the nearby park and sit on a bench beside the lake, watching the ducks swim. At first all Jaskier can talk about is his work, but slowly Geralt takes the conversation towards a different direction.

They end up laughing about a movie they saw a few weeks ago and about something stupid Lambert did a while back. Talking to Geralt is nice, Jaskier almost forgot how much he'd missed it.

Slowly he feels himself starting to relax.

***

When they get back to their apartment, Geralt places a kiss on Jaksier's cheek, before going to bed.

Geralt is already drifting off, when he feels the mattress dip behind him and a strong arm wrapping itself around his middle. Geralt can't help but to smile into his pillow. "Thought you had a lot of work to do".

"Mmm" Jaskier hums, kissing Geralt's neck softly. "I do. But it can wait till tomorrow. I think I've done enough for today".

"Hmm".

Jaskier places another kiss between Geralt's shoulderbaldes. "Thanks for today. Sorry we didn't get to spend much time together lately. Today was really nice".

Geralt smiles sleepily, placing his hand above Jaskier's, squeezing lightly. "It's okay. I understand that you can get busy. I just want you to remember that you also need to rest sometimes".

Jaskier chuckles into his neck, closing his eyes. "Good thing I have you to remind me of that. Good night, Geralt".

"Good night, Jask".

#geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #gerald #geraskier #geralt #witcher netflix #geralt the witcher #witcher #the witcher #modern au #witcher au #geralt x julian #julian alfred pankratz #geralt x dandelion #dandilion #dandellion #dandelion #jaskier

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Golden II (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: hello. This is the second part of the Kakashi amnesia fic. I was so conflicted on what to do in this one and admittedly, I am not satisfied with this. Not completely. I really struggle writing the second part of a trio, and it's evident here.

Part three is up!

Word count: 4200

_______

Kakashi struggled to maintain his normal persona after Y/N got into the incident. He just couldn’t shake off that desperate need to be around her. At this point, it was just instinctual to look for her in the crowds, and expect to see her waiting for him each time he got home from a mission. He missed her laugh and her smile, and the people in the village did not help.

His only solace was on missions where he could forget about it all. It was an impossible struggle, especially when everyone and their mother was consoling him every time he stepped outside to do literally anything. He didn’t want people in his business, especially something so sensitive. 

The mornings were now cold and depressing. Each time he rolled over in an attempt to throw his arm around his girlfriend, he was only met with the hollow space where she used to be. He would bury his face in his pillows and shut his eyes, just trying to drown out her voice from his mind. But her scent still lingered on his linens and buried deep into the pillows. 

He imagined her groggy eyes opening just a peek to see if he was awake before her, and he usually was. She would smile and scoot close to his body, curling up and hugging him around the waist, her head resting against his chest. He missed wrapping her up in a cuddly hug, peppering the top of her head with kisses. 

He missed going to get breakfast with her, and her ranting to him about this new novel the store had in shipment, comparing the plot to that of other books she had read and gushing over the character development or the vocabulary or a plot twist she'd never seen. She was always such a nerd, it was adorable.

And he missed meeting up with her each night as she closed the store, her hugging him so tight he could feel her heart beating against his. She'd attack his face with kisses and giggles, pulling down his mask in between the bookshelves where no one could see and gracing his lips with a kiss, or a dozen, depending on the day. 

He just missed her. But he knew it was for the best-not knowing her anymore, not getting attached all over again, or letting her get close to him again. He thought of her amnesia as a fresh start, a way to break up with her without crushing her emotionally. She would never know what she was missing.

He would be the only one suffering, and that was better to him than the other way around.

For Kakashi, it was always hard to imagine he would get to a place in life where he felt comfortable enough with someone to maintain such a relationship. He didn’t think he would grow to have these moments with someone he loved. He worked through so many walls he had built up over the years, fought against all his paranoia and superstitions, and for what? To feel his heart break?

He felt betrayed, by whom, he had no idea. He just felt like the stars had aligned perfectly in favor of screwing him over the moment he was comfortable, the moment someone was able to squeeze into his heart and share their love. It would take time to get over his feelings for her, he knew that. The memories would always linger, but they wouldn’t cut through him like they did now.

For now, the only thing he could do was lie in his bed until his next mission the following day. Without her, he didn’t see any reason to get out of bed anyway.

______

Y/N returned to her apartment after being discharged from the hospital, and did as she was instructed to do. Each day she would look through her belongings, pictures, trinkets, anything that had emotional value, hoping it would bring out some of her old memories. Nothing really changed. Sometimes she could see flashes of people in her head that lived in the village. Kakashi, that guy in the green suit, Yamato, the sweet girl that took care of her all her days in the hospital. All of them appeared in her mind at one point or another,  but nothing strong enough to give her any knowledge.

Tsunade told her to just keep trying and hopefully, something would fix itself. It seemed like a shot in the dark, but anything was worth a try.

It wasn’t until a few hours into the cleaning process, scrapping blood and ink out of carpets and stocking her shelves of the store, that she found something of real importance. Deep in the back of her front counter, hidden in a drawer, sat a small shoebox, filled with stacks of papers.

At first, she assumed they were probably just old receipts, but that was not the case.

Inside she found many things. Photos, notes, letters, and little trinkets all stacked carefully in the box like her previous self took extra special care of them. For this reason, she took the box to the table to sit down and go through everything one by one. Anything was worth a try, and maybe this would propel her recovery in motion..

First she examined the letters. They were very short, but full of information about her past self, and she found herself more intrigued and surprised with every word. Each one was from Kakashi, she noted that immediately. Out of all people, she could not imagine that man sitting and writing out anything nice or thoughtful to her. 

But she was wrong.

They stated things about how he was on missions and wouldn't be back for a month or so at a time. He often stated how badly he wished to come back home and visit her bookstore again. How he was sorry for being gone so long that he couldn’t help around the store. 

 The first few, dated as far back as 7 years, were very friendly, nothing out of the ordinary for a correspondence between friends. It still seemed sketchy to her that Kakashi took time out of his day to send her letters, but not unbelievable.  It wasn’t until they progressed right in front of her eyes that she was taking in every word with awe.

They detailed how much he missed seeing her face, which he often described as beautiful and precious. She was his motivator that kept him going each morning and through the long nights, he said. The man proclaimed his love over and over in the letters starting four years ago until the very last which was from a few months ago. He was never very descriptive or detailed, but he got across what needed to be said and what was on his mind very effectively.

She had no idea Kakashi felt that way about her. He really didn't act like they had any relationship at all. He actually spent most days avoiding her at all costs. Of course, she would see him walking down the street, and wave through the glass panels of her bookstore, not that he ever cared. He would usually take one look over at her, and then walk faster in the opposite direction. 

To say her first impression of him was a bit off putting was an understatement. Where other people like Yamato treated her with kindness and humility, he seemed to think he was too good to try and reconnect. Although, he was certainly a handsome man and very courageous. She could vaguely see why her old self was at least physically attracted to him. Even if he wasn’t acting the nicest now, the letters led her to believe he was possibly a hopeless romantic.

She scanned through the other things in the box. The photos were ones of her with all her friends, but the majority were just Kakashi. The first few photos, the oldest, with the most damage around the frayed edges, were of them when they were much younger. He didn't have on the jounin vest he wore, and she had such a baby face to match a toothy grin. Maybe they were teenagers, 20 somethings? She couldn’t tell for sure.  

The photos were just of them together. Sitting by certain sights or buildings, hugging, eating, on every kind of date you could imagine. It looked like she documented each one. Time stamps on the backs in whatever pen color she had at the time, scribbled details here and there.

It made sense now, why she had a pile of disposable cameras in her room. Dozens of photos of Kakashi, decades of memories all piled up in this box between the pair. It felt surreal, seeing herself in places she couldn’t recognize, in the arms of a man she barely knew.

She must have really loved him before. Their relationship was one of quite a few years from the looks of the things in this box, and obviously she cherished even the little moments. She felt guilt pang in her chest, and her stomach to turn over painfully. How he must have felt when she told him she didn't remember him. How it must feel walking past her in the street and knowing what they had was gone. She couldn't imagine the pain he had to be going through.

And he said that the entire thing was his fault. That day he walked into her hospital room, he apologized for what he did to her, saying that his family was the cause for this, and that he should have come to the store earlier to make sure something like that never happened. He wasn’t a superhero, despite what everyone thought of him. He was merely a man, a shinobi with a love for porn novels and dogs and one girl he desperately wanted to protect. Now that was gone.

Needless to say, she felt awful. It wasn’t her fault for not remembering him, but it sure felt that way.

She set everything back into the box and put it in its place under the counter before flipping the open sign to closed and heading out into the street. She knew where he lived, only because of the return addresses on the envelopes of the letters. She was still quite familiar with Konoha and it's workings, some of the street names hazy but there. She was now determined to make it to his apartment, even if she had to ask everyone in town to help navigate.

If he was on a mission, so be it, but if he was home, she wanted to see the man. 

Thankfully, she realized that he lived only a few streets away from her when a street vendor pointed her in the right direction, but damn,  he lived on the fourth floor and she inwardly cursed him. Her legs were still a bit shaky from the incident, and she hadn't healed completely. Stairs were a pain for her. This entire man seemed like a real pain, honestly.

She finally made it to the fourth floor after hobbling up like an old man, and knocked on the second door. She was going to have a conversation with this man, the same man who was keeping their history a secret this entire time without trying to make a connection again.

No one in this town wanted to explain anything to her. Yamato was nice but he always beat around the bush and left when things started getting informative. Sakura just fawned over her broken limbs and injuries. And the man in the green jumpsuit was too loud, she usually had to kick him out once she felt a headache coming on. Other than that, she didn’t have many friends. They’d told her her family died in a “jinchuriki” attack, whatever that meant, so she didn’t have any family to ask either.

As she waited at the door, she felt her stomach churn. Part of her was genuinely curious how her younger self fell for him and what they were like together. Like, what was the appeal? He seemed kinda strange and distant, and she couldn’t help but want cuddles and love constantly. It seemed like an odd match, and Y/N couldn’t help but question it. 

Opposites attract, I guess.

After a couple seconds, the door opened a crack, and a half dressed man answered the door. She found her face heating up a bit. He wasn’t even exposed in any way, he just wasn’t wearing his headband, nor did he have his jacket on, revealing toned arms and fluffy, messy hair that she had to admit was pretty adorable. Okay, so she could definitely see herself falling for someone so handsome, but regardless, she was on a mission.

He looked startled to see her standing there in all her glory, out of breath and bent over like she’d run the whole way here. She held onto the doorway to balance herself. Perhaps she was just a tiny little bit out of breath from climbing the stairs still. Y/N apologized quickly, “Sorry, give me a second. Going up the stairs is really hard to do and you live on the fourth floor so, yeah.” 

“Who told you where I live?” He questioned, scanning the walkway to make sure no one else was around to be listening. 

“You did, actually,” she answered after taking a deep breath. “I found an old box of letters from you, and I just went to the return address.”

The letters. How could he forget about them? He had tried to rid her place of all signs of him, taking out pictures of the two of them together save for a few with other people included. He took out every single belonging he had. The only thing he missed was the letters, ones he didn’t even know Y/N had kept in the first place. He cursed himself. 

Her reading the letters made him feel violated. Even if the letters were for her, it felt like a stranger had just read some of his deepest and most pathetic thoughts, the ones of love and adoration and depression all piled up in a few letters addressed to a Y/N he used to know.  He felt sick thinking about what this woman now knew. 

“Okay. Well, listen, you really shouldn’t just come to my apartment like this. I’m not fond of drop in visits.”

“I don’t care. I’ll do whatever I want, Kakashi Hatake, or should I say, my lover,” she laughed, resting one of her hands on her hip proudly. He felt himself wince at the sound of those words coming from her lips, seeing her childish grin. It reminded him too much of before, how they used to be, and he couldn’t handle that. Suddenly, he felt that familiar sickness rolling in his stomach. “How come you never said anything about it?”

“Because, I didn’t think you needed to know.”

“Why? Obviously you were a very big part of my life and I, yours,” she asked.

He sighed and leant on the doorframe, his eyes never leaving the village over her shoulder, anything other than meeting her eyes. He really did not want to have this conversation with her. He would have talked her ear off about a month before when she actually had her memories and knew who she was, but today, with the way she was, he might as well be speaking to a stranger. 

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Of course.”

“It’s because I was going to leave you after the accident either way” he confessed, and she could only nod. It wasn’t like she was gonna get offended by his words, she didn’t even know him. He continued, “It makes me sick knowing that all this was my fault in the first place.”

She tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“The reason that man and his lackeys kidnapped you is because of my father’s mistakes,” he sighed, “That bastard wanted to get revenge by hurting you, since you and I were close.”

She nodded, tapping the floor with her foot as she absorbed everything he’d said. That is what he alluded to before when they met in the hospital. She replied calmly, her tone so understanding it made him feel nauseous.“I see. Well, I wouldn’t exactly call that your fault. You definitely didn’t directly cause anything to happen, if anything it was your father. I’m not offended at all.” 

“It doesn’t matter what you think. It doesn’t make this anyone's fault but mine.”

“Really, it’s not your fault. You could have never predicted this,” she tried to say, but he just went on, words flowing out faster than she could argue against them. 

“It doesn’t matter. I knew that it was wrong to let you into my life. You would have lived just as happily if I’d have ignored you and let you meet some son of a baker, get married after a year, have a bunch of kids, shit, I don’t know,” he cursed. She could tell he was breaking down feelings he had been harboring for a while, and she pushed past him into his apartment, walking right under the arm he was resting on. This wasn’t something to talk about in public, out in the open. “I knew that if you were with me that you would never live a normal life, and I still let you fall in love with me, all because I was too selfish to put my own feelings aside.”

“Love shouldn’t be suppressed like that. You did what was natural.”

“Yeah, and look where that got us. Look where that got you, Y/N.” He waved to her bandaged legs. “You’re never going to remember me again, so it doesn’t matter if I rekindle our relationship, does it?”

She took a seat on the edge of his bed to rest her tired legs. He seemed so angry with himself, so much self hate radiating from his person. He was hurting so badly, and she just wished he would let her comfort him. 

For a moment, she wondered if he would let her hold him like before, so he could pretend that things hadn’t gone wrong, even for a short time. Put his mind at ease if only for a short while. Y/N refrained from saying anything, though. Physical touch was probably one of the worst things for him right now, especially from her.

Instead, she meditated on what he said. She sat there fiddling with her fingers, trying to figure out what to say to him, anything that would make the situation easier for him. All she ever wanted was to make life easier for others, and if her way of doing so was being kind and thoughtful toward these worn shinobi, then that is what she would do. 

She leaned back on her hands and let out a soft sigh, words surfacing in her brain that might just do the trick. “Kakashi, do you want to hear something that might bring you hope?”

“Whatever,” he brushed off, not thinking anything she could say would make the situation better. He’d tried for a month to make things better and nothing was working. 

“I’ve been having dreams. Dreams of the past, dreams of memories that I have forgotten. When I look through photos, new images appear of people that I used to know,” she told him softly. “Tsunade says that means I’ll regain my memories with time, it’s just taking a bit longer than we had hoped. She thinks I can get everything back. The girl that you used to know.” 

He stood there for a moment, just processing what she said. He could feel his heart beat a little faster in his chest, and he lifted his eyes slowly to meet her own. She always had such soft, gentle eyes, even now. “Do you have any dreams of me?” He was hesitant to ask, but she gladly nodded. “What do you remember?”

“Well, it’s mostly just snapshots here and there of you and everyone else. Short little tibbits of what life used to be like. I know Yamato has wood nature jutsu because in one of my dreams he had summoned this ginormous tree. I know there is a younger guy with the most yellow hair I’ve ever seen. I know that you have a red eye under the headband, but I don’t know what it’s for,” she explained, listing off some examples of things shehad dreamed of. 

He hummed. “Firstly, you’re right about Yamato. He’s actually the only one alive who can use that jutsu.”

“Really? That’s interesting. Is that why he’s head of the...uh, that group? The ones with the animal masks?” she asked, feeling foolish at her lack of knowledge.

He let out the tiniest of chuckles, just a hint of one. “It’s actually ANBU, but good on you for knowing about them. And it’s not just because of his wood jutsu, he is also a very skilled and strong shinobi. He is a good team leader,” he explained. For a moment, he almost found it fun to listen to her struggle to remember things and then help her out. He noticed the way her nose crinkled when she was thinking especially hard about something, and god, it reminded him of before. He felt his heart thawing with each look her way. 

Kakashi shut his front door and walked over to the other side of his bed. He took a seat against the wall, kicking out his legs. He was beginning to relax. “And about the yellow haired kid? That’s one of my students, Naruto Uzumaki. He’s a handful, but also a very talented, determined shinobi.”

She mouthed the name to herself a couple times, trying to memorize it. It sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t be too sure. A lot of things sounded like she should remember them, and she couldn’t exactly figure out which were right.

“And your red eye?”

“It’s a long story, and we won’t go into it. Simply put, this eye is called the sharingan. It’s a special dojutsu that only members of the Uchiha clan possess.”

“So you’re part Uchiha?”

“No. That’s the part I’m not gonna get into,” he brushed off her question. That was something that he really did not want to discuss again. He’d already told her the story once, he didn’t need to do it a second time, even if she had amnesia. When he looked over at her, she looked so familiar. Her eyes were filled with happiness, and he noticed that her lips were curled up into a sweet smile. “What are you happy about?”

She shook her head and turned her head to hide the upward curl of her lips. She was just so glad, her whole body felt warmer because of it. “Because you are being nice to me and explaining things. No one really explains things to me, they just skip around stuff usually,” she confessed as she tapped her heels together. 

He could only shake his head at that. “You deserve to know at least the basic stuff, just until you get your memory back.”

“Hmm? You’ll explain any of my memories? Like any of them?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Oh, yeah, well explain this dream I had.”

“Shoot.”

Her smile took a mischievous turn, and he definitely noticed the change. He could only imagine what she was about to ask. “I’ll give you a hint...I know what you look like completely naked,” she giggled, falling back on the bed and covering her face with her hands. 

“And you call me the pervert…” he sighed, crossing his arms behind his neck. Her laugh, it was like music to his ears. No matter what she could say, he was just relieved to feel her beside him, gleaming with a happiness he missed for nearly a month now. 

“I really had a sex dream about you the other night, but you can imagine my confusion. I was like, what the hell, I don’t even know the guy,” Y/N laughed, “It all makes sense now.”

He rolled his eyes at her sense of humor. Things felt so normal, like before. He felt his chest grow warm at the feeling. Kakashi’s  lips cracked into a grin under his mask, not that it mattered to wear the mask. She already saw his face in a dream, it seemed kinda pointless if they were alone. 

Maybe he would let things go back to normal. Maybe he would talk to her more, and let her visit when he was home. Maybe he could go to her store when she waved to him instead of running away like a coward. Maybe he could let himself be happy, despite his faults, despite what happened to her. The wounds could be mended, he decided. 

He just couldn’t help but be selfish and let her back in.

#kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi imagine #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #naruto x reader #naruto imagine #naruto one shot #i really love reader in this #i would marry her if i could #steal her from kakashi lol

[is-it-art-tho]

Summary: A mission gone awry, too many memories, too much blood, and not enough time. Bruce races to save a son he couldn't save before.

Prologue, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8

_________

Then.

“Who’s the bat now?” a young voice shouted.

Bruce paused halfway through the foyer and looked up. “Get down before you hurt yourself,” he called back.

Twelve-year-old Jason was hanging from the second-floor banister with his legs curled around the handrail, grinning impishly. “You sound like Alfred. We do way more dangerous stuff than this like every night.”

“That’s not the—” Bruce began, but the boy’s eyes zeroed in on the bowl of chocolates he was holding under his arm.

“Are those truffles?!” Jason stuck out his hands and grasped at the air between them. “Gimme gimme gimme!”

“You can have as many as you want once you get down.”

This, of course, was a lie. The first and last time Bruce had made a promise like this had involved a three-tiered cake left mostly untouched after a company party. He had been expecting Jason to have maybe three slices, max. The kid had instead eaten almost half of it, then proceeded to spend the rest of the night gagging and moaning over the toilet. (Alfred had laid into Bruce for that one: “What sort of promise is that to make to a child? Honestly!”)

A bright smile flashed across Jason’s face as he started to sit up before pausing then letting himself flop back upside down again with an accusatory frown. “Wait a second. You did that thing.”

“What thing?

“That thing with your eyebrows that you do whenever you’re makin’ stuff up.” Jason tried to demonstrate, scrunching his face around cartoonishly. “Liar.”

“All right, all right. Fair enough,” Bruce conceded, making a mental note to work on that particular tell. “But the point still stands. Leave that stuff for the practice mats and patrol.”

“Okayyy. But can you just throw one in my mouth? Please?”

Despite trying to maintain some semblance of sternness, a small grin tugged at the corner of Bruce’s mouth as he took in Jason’s pathetic excuse for puppy dog eyes. “Jason…”

“Just one?”

With a resigned sigh, Bruce plucked a single truffle from the bowl. “Alright. Just—”

***************************

Now.

“—one,” Bruce grunted over the pouring rain, adjusting the weight of Jason’s arm slung across his shoulders. When had he gotten so big? “C’mon, Jay. One step. There you go. One foot in front of the other.”

Jason’s head lolled forward as he struggled to remain upright, dragging a boot forward, then the other, his feet barely leaving the slick cobblestones. “I…hate Germany.”

“I know. We’ll be home soon.”

“Liar,” the young man rasped. He lifted his head enough to grin at Bruce, and it was a gruesome sight—his helmet was long gone, and now long trails of blood hung from his nose and mouth, his teeth a row of red—but it was somehow encouraging all the same.

“You can’t even see my eyebrows.”

“Don’t have to.”

Bruce feigned alarm. “Don’t tell me I have another tell.”

“Loads of ‘em.”

“Now who’s the lia—" he started then stopped abruptly.

The two of them heard it at the same time, muted in the downpour, but distinct—a series of quick and careful steps rushing up from behind.

Jason’s head swiveled first, and his eye that wasn’t swollen shut flew wide. Before Bruce had time to react, he was being shoved out of the way, stumbling on wet stones and falling hard as Jason spun to face the man in the balaclava that was charging towards them.

The assassin’s black uniform was barely visible in the shimmering dark of the rain, but as lightning tore through the clouds, he was lit in blinding relief, as was the ornate dagger in his hand.

And Bruce watched Jason spot the weapon too, but the young man's body was in no state to react the way it needed to, and in the span of a single breath, the dagger was gone, plunged deep into the young man’s abdomen.

The following crack of thunder was rivaled only by Bruce’s own roar.

***************************

Then.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Bruce stepped aside to let Jason shuffle past him and into Bruce’s personal quarters on the Watchtower, noting with a small pang of sympathy how the young boy started to limp as soon as the door closed behind them and there was no chance of one of the others seeing.

The boy flopped onto the bed with his face flat against the sheets. “Do what?”

“Go through all those drills with us,” he said, tugging off his shirt with some difficulty—already he was beginning to get sore. “It’s not an easy training routine. Even some of us tap out sometimes.”

“Wanted to.”

“Hm.” Bruce glanced at his bare torso in the mirror where bruises were already beginning to form. “Can I ask why?”

When Jason didn’t answer, he glanced at the boy in the mirror. “Jay.”

Still nothing. Had he passed out? Bruce turned, ready to rush him to the infirmary, only to find Jason perfectly awake and apparently furious. He was glaring at the ceiling with such an intensity Bruce had no doubt it would have melted if he’d had heat vision.

“This is about what Diana said,” he surmised, leaning back against the dresser. “You’re aware she wasn’t trying to offend you.”

“She said I wasn’t good enough.”

“No,” Bruce corrected patiently.

“She said I wasn’t as good as him.”

“She also said you had heart, which is something she doesn’t throw around lightly.” Bruce bent to pull a water bottle from the mini fridge and tossed it onto the bed beside Jason who made no move to grab it. “And you have to keep in mind Dick was almost sixteen the first time they met. He had a lot of experience under his belt by then. You just turned thirteen.”

“But it’s not just that,” Jason explained, openly exasperated. He sat up and pulled his domino off to cradle it in his hands like a living thing. “It’s everybody. Everybody thinks he was better than me. He’s the real Robin and I’m just…the replacement. I wanna show them that I’m the real thing, too. And that you didn’t make a mistake when you…”

He stopped short, but the rest of the sentence rang in the air anyway as if he had shouted it: You didn’t make a mistake when you chose me.

Bruce struggled to find the right words to say, to find that balance between sincerity and what Jason would certainly read as coddling. It was a fine line, and one he often stumbled over, and precious seconds ticked by in silence until at last Jason’s demeanor shifted.

The young boy’s face twisted into a stubborn smile, and Bruce knew instantly that the window of opportunity had passed.

“But who cares what they think anyway?” Jason smirked. “I know who I am so whatever.”

Another moment fumbled due to Bruce’s own ineptitude. He was no good at these conversations—not the way Clark and Alfred and even Dick were—and he cursed himself for it.

“Okay if I shower first?” the boy asked, scooting to the edge of the bed where he started unlacing his boots.

“Sure,” Bruce sighed. “Towels are in the drawer.”

Jason was nearly to the bathroom with a towel in hand when a knock came at the door and Bruce called, “Come in.”

The door slid open, and Clark stepped in, already showered and changed. In his hand was a pair of clippers.

“Thanks for letting me borrow these. Hey!” he beamed, turning to Jason. “Well, look at you!”

“What?” Jason shot back defensively, looking himself over. “What?”

“Nothing. Just happy to see you up and around so fast. You know, the first time we trained together as a team, this guy,” Clark held up a hand to block the fact that he was pointing directly at Bruce—Bruce saw it anyway—“came back here and slept for about eight hours. Everyone thought he was dead.”

“Seriously?!”

“No,” Bruce interjected.

“Alright. Five,” Clark allowed.

Bruce’s voice dipped threateningly. “Clark.”

“Did I mention he puked?”

By the time the deodorant left Bruce’s hand and exploded against the wall, Clark was already grinning mischievously from the other side of the room, his cape settling back around him.

Meanwhile, Jason was bent double, laughing harder than Bruce had seen in a long time. “You puked?” he wheezed.

“Like a fire hydrant,” Clark chimed, eliciting another roar of laughter. It was as innocent and contagious and perfect a sound as Bruce had ever heard, filling the small space easily.

The two men exchanged a quick knowing glance while Jason laughed, confirming what Bruce had suspected from the moment the other man had arrived—one way or another, Clark noticed that something was wrong.

Clark raised an eyebrow—a question—and Bruce nodded: He’ll be okay and Thank you packed into the quick dip of his chin. Clark smiled.

Setting aside the clippers, the Kryptonian crossed the room to pat Jason on the back, saying earnestly, “Good work today. Really.”

“Thanks,” Jason said, and this time the smile that slid across his face was genuine.

After Clark had gone, Jason whispered, “Did you really do all that stuff?”

“He exaggerated.”

“But?”

“Yes, I vomited,” Bruce offered at last, more than willing to fall on this sword if it meant hearing that sound again. After a moment’s consideration he added, “Flash slipped in it.”

And again, Jason was howling, letting himself fall back against the wall and as he gripped his ribs. “I can’t breathe!” he gasped between peals of laughter. “I—"

#a little bit louder now #batman fanfic #batman fic #batman fanfiction #batfam fic #batfam fanfic #whump #jason todd whump #hurt/comfort #whump fic #batman #red hood #bruce wayne

[katieraven]

sleep is so tough

Summary: your attempt at dealing with losing Bucky is unsuccessful and results in a sleepless night - for several reasons.

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes/female reader

Warnings: angst!!, happy ending (because I can't write sad endings for the life of me), a lot of metaphors, thoughts about death, loss and grieving, a tiny description of a panic attack

Word count: 3227

Notes: @babycap you wonderful human! 600 followers is huge and i am very happy about this fic. the prompt was: "I wanna be in your touch / Sleep is so tough" - James Bay, Chew On My Heart and I wrote a lil something that i'm kinda happy with. do enjoy!

love,

katie

It’s the same nightmare. You recognise it from the last three weeks, you’ve been here before. Doesn’t make it easier to shake out of it. You watch him convulse, face torn and twisted somewhere between pain and the desperate attempt to keep his free will. The fight against the venomous words the HYDRA agent hurls at him. They’re like daggers, needles stuck into his brain, rewiring him. And all you can do is watch. You are frozen in place in the torture your subconsciousness puts you through. Again. And again. And again.

You can’t will your eyes to tear away from him. He snarls like a cornered animal at the agents around him. Then the final words. “грузовой вагон“. Freight car. You don’t know Russian, but those ten phrases have been burned into your brain. You could recite them in your sleep.

Bucky stills. He slowly stands up from his crouched position, cold stare fixed onto the speaking agent. “Я готов отвечить“.

You startle awake, the nightmare finally loosening its grasp on your consciousness. Immediately, your hands fly to the other side of the bed. It is cold and empty and your stomach drops when realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

This is not a nightmare. At least not entirely, no. It is a memory. Because you saw the footage. You saw Bucky convulse and bend and snap and straighten. And you saw Steve, heard his scream as Sam pulled him away, forcing him to leave his best friend in the hands of his torturers. Steve knows it was the right thing to do. You do, too. The thought of Bucky being all alone behind enemy lines still makes your breath hitch in your throat, though.

They didn’t want you to see the footage, it wasn’t supposed to be something you get confronted with. But you slipped into the room, originally meaning to talk to Natasha about some software to try out in the next mission. They didn’t notice you entering, eyes trained on a screen, FRIDAY running facial recognition in the background. They kept playing the footage over, and over, and over, and again, looking for any kind of clue as to where they could find him, until your knees gave out under you and you fell with a whimper leaving your throat. Natasha was the first to understand the situation. Steve let out a string of colourful curses you would have never stopped teasing him about, hadn’t you been trying to wrap your mind around what you just saw.

If you had known they were back already, you would have noticed him missing and asked. But you didn’t even know they were back. And then he was gone.

You finally open your eyes. The New York night tints the white ceiling a blueish sort of grey and you feel like someone painted the inside of your heart onto the concrete. A perfect replica. Grey inside. Empty. Broken and alone, left to try and fail to put yourself back together.

Your fingers curl into a fist around the cold and empty bedsheets. They have been empty for three weeks now, and your body has no tears left to give. So you lie there, silent sobs violently breaking free from the void that is your chest. Sometimes you don’t know if your heart is beating, still, and your hands can’t find it in them to check. It wouldn’t be so bad to die, you think. There’s not much keeping you here.

Steve visits every few days. He carries the same hollow look in his eyes, like someone snuffed out the light behind them and carelessly forgot to turn it back on. With the sole difference that he is better at hiding it. It is only when he thinks nobody is watching that the sticky navy blue ink that is grief seeps into his face and turns his eyes empty and his face pale. You don’t mention it.

You know it’s supposed to help, sharing grief. Which is why you open the door when he visits, and don’t turn him away. He needs it, too, you suppose. So you sit on your sofa in front of the tv and watch something stupid and mindless that none of you pay attention to and both of you pretend to find acutely intriguing whenever the other is looking.

It’s all a giant game of pretend. SHIELD is feigning confidence in finding him. Everyone else oozes positivity whenever they talk about the mission. But it’s false, and hollow, and the truth of it sneers at you through translucent optimism.

You turn your head to look at the alarm clock on your bedside table. 4:36 a.m. That means you slept an astonishing three hours. That’s two more than yesterday. You’re not afraid of the nightmares anymore. You know they will come. The terror shaking you night after night has become a companion, just as the grief following closely in everything you do. It looms over you at night, hides in the shadows behind the furniture in your living room, joined by Steve’s whenever he’s there.

You were afraid to fall asleep, yes. Pulled two all-nighters in the first days after. By now you have learned to read the signs your body so openly presents you with and you know you will not fall asleep again tonight. So you lie there, hand splayed over the empty right side of the bed, eyes staring through the ceiling.

Fuck, you miss him. It rolls over you unexpectedly and your body seizes, curling up into a fetal position as your obviously alive and beating heart pumps sharp agony through your veins. He is gone. You know, of course, you understood before and this feeling is familiar, but for the first time, it truly settles inside you. Bucky is gone.

The man you imagined a future with, who handed you his broken and bruised heart and trusted you to fix it, is gone. The charming wooden home near the sea you always talked about when his nightmares were too much and too real slowly turns to dust between your grasping fingers. You feel it slip. The bell-like high pitched laughter of a young child evaporating in your mind.

You feel your heart break. There has been a dull ache in your chest for weeks. You’ve gotten used to it, embraced it into your menagerie of demons and ghosts, grief and loss. But it betrays you, right now, as you feel your heart pound against the cage of your ribs, and it burns. You still lie curled into yourself, blanket tangled between your legs. You will explode. You feel it with a new certainty, this will kill you. You breathe in and out, you know you do, but none of the air arrives in your lungs. It leaves you desperately gasping for oxygen.

Until you realise none of it is real. Because your heart is not here in your room with you, your heart lies in the mismatched hands of a broken soldier somewhere between here and the sea. It can’t kill you here, because there is an organ-sized hole in your chest and the coldness of the world tears at your exposed ribcage with icy shrapnel-sharp claws. Does it bleed? If so, you can’t feel the warmth. Blood is warm, right? Bucky always said it is.

You exhale slowly. Will your seizing muscles to relax, to let you go. To your surprise they do, and you inhale again, cold night air. It doesn’t yet escape through the wound in your chest. The hole hasn’t reached your lungs yet. But you know it will consume you, leave no part of you untouched, unbroken, will rip you apart for all your demons to finally feast on what is left of you.

Maybe he will find you first, you muse. Maybe HYDRA will find the last bit of mercy in them and send him after you, to cut his strings. You know you will not fight when he does. It would be a sweet oblivion with his eyes the last thing you see. Grey irises like molten silver when the sunlight hits just right.

Your arms fold against your chest. The skin is whole, not a scratch, no bleeding wound. You know it can’t be true. It is simply your minds way of processing this pain. Your imagination fixed the hole but you know it’s still there, still gaping. You can feel the edges burning where the hole ends and the marred skin starts. But you live. Still this broken body carries you on, one day after another.

You sit up in your sheets, hair plastered against your forehead by the thin film of sweat covering your body. As your back straightens, the metallic clinking of dog tags root you into this reality and you pull them out from under one of Bucky’s black shirts you’re wearing.

“Keep these,” he murmurs and presses something hard into your open palm. You look down and see the two thin pieces of metal piled on top of each other, embossed letters spelling his name, his full name. Your stunned eyes flicker back up into his and you open your mouth to protest, but he shushes you with a finger.

“It’s not like I need them. If I die, this thing” – he gestures to his arm – “will tell everyone who I am. But I want you to have these.”

Your thumb smoothes over the plates, shoving them against each other. “I mean … I won’t complain, but why do you …?”

He shrugs, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. “I don’t know, I guess it feels like a part of me stays with you, y’know? A physical part. So that you have something real to hold onto until I’m back.”

It hits you, then, that he’s leaving. He picks the tags up and puts them around your neck and you reach for his hands, fingers closing around his forearms. “Don’t leave me, Bucky. Please, I can’t lose you –“

He puts his hands on either side of your face and kisses your nose, before looking directly at you. “You won’t lose me, you hear? I’ll always be with you. Always.”

But now he’s gone, and you close your fist around the metal tags until they push into your palms, and harder until they cut the delicate skin. You want to be angry at him but you can’t. It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault he couldn’t keep his promise.

You steady your breathing. Eyes wander to the red numbers on your alarm. 5:23. No use trying to sleep anymore, you decide, and sit up. Might as well make coffee. Maybe you can get something done today. Clean the laundry up at least, so Steve doesn’t have this awfully concerned look on his face next time he visits.

It takes you a couple of minutes to actually, physically, move. In your mind you’re already in the kitchen, filling the coffee maker with water and watching the coffee slowly dribble into the pot below. It has something therapeutic, one drop at a time. Almost meditative.

But, well, you do have to walk over into the kitchen to reach this point of short-lived meditative oblivion. So you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, and your eyes fall onto the covered mirror in the corner. It’s floor-length, and you used to love being able to admire your whole outfit in there without having to stand on your tiptoes.

Like that one time before one of Tony’s extravagant galas, when you tried to get a good look at yourself and the glamourous dress that, as Natasha had pointed out, would look amazing on your figure. She had been right – naturally. But the tiny mirror in your bathroom hadn’t shown the whole thing and so you were leaning over the sink to try and look. Which was exactly the moment Bucky chose to walk into the room, only to promptly wear an affectionately amused smirk on his face, assuring you of your otherworldly beauty (“Oh come on, Buck, don’t mock me – “ “I’m not, you are otherworldly, doll, dazzling even!”) and pointing out that you were in desperate need of a floor-length mirror.

In the first few days of Bucky’s absence, you hung a bedsheet over it because you couldn’t bear the memory. In fact, you can’t recall the last time you actually looked at yourself. With utmost certainty, though, you can say that your skin must be grey and sunken and the darkened circles under your eyes a deeper shade of purple than when you were knee-deep in college finals. God, that time seems ages away. If you hadn’t gone to college then maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation – you would have certainly never ended up at SHIELD. For a second you wish you hadn’t. This pain would not be part of your reality, then.

But then again, you wouldn’t have met him at all. And as much as this, right now, hurts, you wouldn’t trade it with any reality in the universe if it meant not knowing him. Not loving him. Not knowing his deepest, darkest secrets that he only opened up about after one particularly bad nightmare, with his head in your lap, not daring to meet your eyes.

No, if this pain is the price for his love then you will take it. You will let it eat at you until there is nothing left except your hollowed shell of a body because it will have been worth it.

You walk past the covered mirror and open the door, bare feet against the cold kitchen floor. You go to reach for the coffee maker when something registers with you. Something out of place, a slight inconsistency in your regulated, never-changing surroundings. You barely see it in your periphery.

Your movements still and your head slowly turns toward what is undoubtedly someone sitting in your living room. The moonlight glints on his left shoulder and you realise, within the smallest fractions of a second, who it is.

The hollow excuse for a heart that sits in your chest sputters and stills, before springing back into action twice as fast. He came back.

A steady stillness settles over you as you understand the situation. They sent him. Loose ends and all. Yet you’re not afraid, this death will be quick and quiet. It gives you an odd sensation of peace, to know that his will be the last face you see – even if it is the Winter Soldier’s face. But they’re still Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s okay”, you whisper.

His intent gaze never leaves you as you slowly, deliberately walk towards him, step by step. You know that Bucky is in there, too, and you need him to understand that you accept this. That it is not his fault. That you are ready to die if it is at his hands.

There is an unusual uncertainty in the Soldier’s eyes. You have seen footage of him, cold expression, a sort of stone-hearted efficiency about his movements, never a step too much. He has not moved yet. You feel every bit of skin on your feet connecting to the wooden floor as you move towards him, slowly, but steadily. If this is how you are meant to go, then you will.

You’re only three feet away from him as you stop. His eyes followed you all the way there. Now they start to flicker over your face, your body, confusion slowly but definitely showing in the crinkles on his forehead. He opens his mouth and you hold your breath.

“I –“, it comes out croaky, like he hasn’t used his voice in forever, so he clears his throat and starts again.

“I know you.”

Your lungs deflate, shakily. He hasn’t killed you yet. If he hasn’t killed you yet, why is he here? The Winter Soldier doesn’t hesitate. The uncertainty in his face sparks something deep, deep inside of you that you thought dead by now. Hope.

His eyes find their way back to your face and he is searching it now, not the stoic, cold mask of the Winter Soldier. You don’t dare speak. The fingers of his left hand flex with an electric whirr.

“I know you, but …” he trails off.

His right fist opens, fingers seemingly involuntarily reaching out. You step closer and lower yourself down, bare knees on the wood flooring, eyes not leaving his.

“I remember you.”

His voice is steadier now, more confident that he does, in fact, know you. That there is something inside his brain, something more than just the Soldier. More than just the missions. Just the trigger.

His hand, the real one, reaches towards your face and you close your eyes upon contact, a shaky breath leaving your lips. His index and middle finger trail across your cheekbone. Follow the curve of your lips. Trace your eyebrows. Your eyes flicker open and your breath gets caught in your throat because there he is, there he is, his eyes his own.

“Bucky –“

His name leaves your lips, a choked sob partially escaping. He blinks. Still, his eyes are his own. His lips part and then he whispers your name and you are certain this is a dream. A change of pace from the violent nightmares of late, but still a dream, because this can’t be true. How could it be.

But the hardwood floor is rough against your knees and his hand is warm against your cheek and he is there. He slides off the chair onto the ground before you and you feel hot tears spill from your open, disbelieving eyes. His other hand reaches for your face and then he’s holding you there, so unbelievably gentle, his eyes tortured and lined in purple but undeniably his own.

“You came back”, is the first real thing you say to him.

His thumb smoothes over the dark bruise under your eye, proof of sleepless nights and tired days.

“I’m so sorry”, is the first thing he says to you in his own voice.

You close your eyes, lids pushing tears over the edge and you let them drip down onto your bare thighs as you shake your head, a soft smile on your lips.

“There is nothing you need to be sorry about. None of this was your fault.”

“I – you’re hurt”, he states, matter-of-factly, and your eyes open again.

You try and put everything into your eyes, everything you feel, the hope, the relief, the love. Most of all the love.

“But you’re back. That’s all that matters. Do you hear me?”

His grey irises swim with regret and pain and fear and yet you see love in them. You gently touch your forehead to his and he sighs, eyelids fluttering closed.

“I love you, and you’re back, and that’s all that matters.”

The cold seeps into your body from the floor, your knees scraping against the hardwood. Neither of you dares to move, the calm of the situation too delicate, neither sure if this is real or just a particularly cruel dream. But it is too beautiful to disturb and so both of you remain where you are, hands gently touching the other. Thankful for this moment of peace.

**

Forgot my taglist consisting of one wonderful person: @mannien

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter Three.

a/n: get ready for the yearning in this chapter! also please make sure to reblog to share and leave feedback — it really helps writers continue wanting to post and continue writing.

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 8.2k

come talk to me about wtsgd! i’d love to know your thoughts!

April 30, 2017

Luci woke up to loud knocking on her front door, too loud for eight in the morning when she wanted to sleep in. She thought she was dreaming, like someone was knocking directly onto her head, telling her to wake up. But the knocking increased, making her scream into her pillow, getting out of bed. Her pink soft house slippers that Ren made sure she brought so she wouldn’t get her new floors dirty with her outside shoes padded on the wooden floor and towards the entrance, opening the door. 

Once she opened her door, her parents and Nathan were behind it, smiling as they waved their hands into a jazz-like movement. 

“Lulu!” 

“My Lucky!” 

“Ana!” 

Her family charged through her doorway, bringing her into their arms for a family group hug. Luci was wide awake and smiling at the sight and presence of her family. They all eventually let her go to give her individual hugs to have their own moment because they just missed her that much. 

They made their way out of the front entrance and hallway, walking more into her apartment as Ren and Beatrice looked around in awe of how much natural light that was provided. She gave her parents a tour before they all settled into the living room where they had a cup of coffee in to-go cups and ate breakfast sandwiches. 

Luci then told them the events that happened yesterday, minus her unexpected hangout with Harry, and they were furious. All at once, their hearts broke but were quick to ignite with anger. 

“How could she do that?!” Ren had an angry expression on his face, and it was one that she and Nathan had always been afraid of ever since they were younger; it was rare to see their father angry since he was much softer as it would take a lot for him to get him to that state. 

She shrugged her shoulders. “People favor power over fairness these days, or else they’d lose their biggest stars.” Nathan scoffed from the sofa chair next to the couch, but didn’t say anything more. 

It was the harsh truth of showbiz that almost everyone knew—it was a fact; Broadway and Hollywood don’t play fair, it’s obvious they want the best of the best, and if that’s passing up a new talent that could take them to the moon over the seniority of actors who’ve been in the industry for much longer, they’ll take that opportunity. And Luci knew that when she signed up for this. 

Beatrice told Luci that she was sorry this was happening, and they all agreed that whenever her time to perform on stage comes, they’d be there. Luci smiled at her lap, appreciating their support. The Suki family talked for another hour and a half, catching up on the month that passed when they weren’t all together, before they took the subway to the hotel they were staying at to catch their flight out of New York. Luci said her goodbyes to them in front of the hotel, apologizing that they had to come out here for nothing, but they brushed it off, saying that they would do it again just to see her. 

She watched them get into an Uber, waving at her family as they took off down the streets of Manhattan. She took the subway back to Brooklyn as she wrote down a list of what she wanted to do today; find more decorations, clean, eat pizza, and crack a bottle of wine because she damn well needed it. 

It was almost eleven a.m. when she got back to her apartment and decided to get ready for the day. Her throat felt incredibly dry, so she hydrated herself, gulping the liquid down her throat until she heard a knock on her door. Luci furrowed her brows, wondering if it was Nathan or Beatrice behind that door, asking if they’d left their wallet or phone since they were the more forgetful ones in the family, but when she looked around her living room, she didn’t find anything.

A knock on the door was heard and Luci sighed, walking over to open it as she didn’t expect the person behind it. 

“Samuel?” 

“Hey, babe.” A smug smile was present on his face, but a scowl was present on hers, rolling her eyes at the pet name.

“What are you doing here—no, how do you even know where I live?” Luci placed her hand on her hip, a wrinkle in between her eyebrows. 

“Not gonna let me in?” He gave her an amusing smile, and she rolled her eyes, huffing before moving to the side and letting him in. He walked into the main part of the apartment, looking around. 

Luci crossed her arms, trailing behind him. “So, are you gonna answer my question?” 

“I got your address when you texted me to come over that one night, remember?” 

She mentally cursed herself. Her relationship with Samuel had done a complete one-eighty. After the afterparty on opening night, things were very weird between them after she denied his request to have sex with him in the bathroom of the longue. He had avoided her unless it was work related, but even then, he kept the conversation and words to a minimum, adding attitude and rudeness. If she thought things were weird then, it got even weirder the night leading up to when Daisy took her spotlight on stage last night. 

During rehearsals, he’d flirt with Daisy sometimes even kiss her up. Daisy would give Luci a snarky look every time his face was in her neck, biting her skin, and that was when Luci found out the real reason why Daisy despised her. All because of Samuel. All because of a man. The bitter looks didn’t bother Luci and it wasn’t like she was jealous, but it simply confused her because one day he wanted to fuck her and was sweet to her but when she said no, he was rude and would fuck someone else—there was no real type of closure. He probably took her into the bathroom after she left, Luci thought. 

So, she didn’t really care for him anymore because after all, he was just a someone to fuck; all she cared about was why he decided to show up at her apartment unannounced and uninvited. 

“That was a very weak moment for me.” Luci rebutted mockingly; Samuel scoffed and smirked cockily. He leaned against her countertops, and she hated that she still found him attractive because anyone with eyes knew very clearly that he was a very sexy guy, and the worst part was that he knew it too—he knew it very well. “So, tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?” 

“I’m here to tell you that you’re probably not going to perform anytime soon…” he said in a mocking tone, a fake pout on his face as he gave her puppy-dog eyes. 

She scoffed, shaking her head lightly. “Aww, did Daisy tell you to come all the way here and tell me that?” 

“And if she did?” 

“It’s cute that you’re a messenger now. It suits you since you have all this time to waste, like you did mine.” She breathed out a laugh, making him roll his eyes, and it only brought satisfaction to hurt his huge ego. “Well, how about you tell your little Daisy to stop sending people to tell me things because if she had the balls, then she would tell me herself. Plus, you’re wasting your time here to tell me one little thing that doesn’t affect me.” Luci dramatically gasped. “I’m really living in both of your minds rent-free, aren't I?” 

Samuel inhaled heavily, biting back his words as if Luci had offended him, but it would only make sense that he felt that way because of his feelings for Daisy. He headed towards the door with Luci hot on his tail as a way to push him out faster than he came in. 

“Well, I’ll see you Luci—not on stage, but yeah, I’ll see you.” She wasn’t going to lie, but those few words took a dig at her heart; luckily, she’s an actor, so she was able to mask her pain and anger, giving him a scornful smile as she opened the door. Samuel chuckled, not amusingly but in a way that made him think that she was an outright bitch. 

Harry’s door suddenly opened, making him stop in his tracks as he witnessed the interaction happening because it definitely looked like this guy was just leaving her place. Luci’s head turned towards him as her eyes widened slightly; Harry had a weird look on his face, looking back and forth between her and Samuel. 

“Hey, Harry.” Luci broke his train of thought and Harry looked directly at her, smiling slightly. 

“Hi, Luci.” She suddenly felt a wave of nerves wash through her, butterflies erupting in her stomach once he said her name, thinking that he was by far the best person to say it. 

She felt antsy, fiddling with fingers as she started bouncing on the balls of her feet—a habit that she did when she started to feel nervous. Samuel could see straight through her, catching all the signs when she was a bit anxious and he had a feeling that it had something to do with her neighbor. 

Samuel brisked past her, giving her a kiss on the cheek to mess with both of them; Luci’s eyes widened, pulling her face back but it was too late as his lips had already connected with her skin. 

“See you, Luci.” Instead of the cocky smirk he had when he arrived, he had a loving and kind smile as he left because he wasn’t the only actor in the room. 

Once Samuel rounded the corner, Luci looked at Harry and there was a crease in between his brows. 

“I-I, uh, that’s not-”

“No worries. You don’t need to explain to me, honestly.” Harry walked out into the hallway, locking his door before giving her a toothless grin and walking down the hall. 

Luci’s mouth was slightly ajar as she watched him. She closed her door and placed her forehead against it quite harshly, letting out a frustrated groan.

After much sulking, she decided to get on with her day, hoping she can be as productive as she hoped to be. But the thought of if Harry liked her—even as a person or ‘friend,’ if she could call herself that—lingered around in her head; and she doesn’t know why what he thought of her had so much of an affect on her, but it did. Maybe it was because she had a sort of infatuation with her neighbor, or that she couldn’t stop thinking about him and what he was doing across the hall. Whatever it was, she only hoped that he liked her too. 

May 13, 2017 

Quite early, Luci received a phone call from Tal. 

Her phone was buzzing rapidly on her brown wooden nightstand; and in her sleep, she was trying to determine if she had set an alarm the previous night. When she thought she did, she let her phone snooze for ten minutes. But it was certainly not an alarm because just a few seconds after the buzzing stopped, it had started again. 

Grumpy as usual in the morning, she groaned, propping her elbows on her mattress as she pried her eyes open and picked up her phone. When she saw Tal as the caller ID, her brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Hello?” 

“Luci? Luci? Hi, can you hear me?” The gauging sound of the city was heard on the other end of the call, and she could just imagine Tal placing one hand to her ear as she walked through the bustling streets. 

“Yeah, I can. Hi.” Luci’s voice increased, becoming more audible for Tal. 

“Great! So, I’m glad you answered. I know things have been a bit weird lately ever since, y’know…” she said, referring to when Daisy had stolen her spotlight. “But I want to let you know that you’re performing tonight. I’m saying this in a calm manner because I know you know the shit in the show, so I’m not worried about it. But I need you to play Kim tonight.” 

Luci’s breath hitched in her throat as her eyes widened. She was completely speechless and she felt like she was dreaming. But first thing’s first, she needed to know why Tal’s statement at the end was demanding and slightly panicked. 

“What happened to Daisy?” She wondered, sitting up fully on the gray wrinkled sheets from her slumber. 

Tal sighed deeply, perceptible through the chaos of the outside. “Last night, she partied a bit too hard. She’s just getting back to her place, according to Samuel, and she was high off her ass. I don’t need that today, or ever. So, I figured this would be the perfect time for you to step in.” 

“And why me? Why not Wendy?” Luci referred to the understudy for Kim. 

“Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t stick up for you when I should’ve. Daisy has always been…intimidating to me, which is crazy because I run the show, but I should’ve been more stern with her. So, with Daisy out of the picture for today, I want you to perform tonight.” 

Tal genuinely felt guilty that she wasn’t being the stage director that she should’ve been. She let Daisy control some of the show when it should’ve been her to direct everyone. Tal loved her job, she did, but every time she had Daisy as one of the lead characters, she almost dreaded work. She didn’t want to be one of those people who dreaded work because although theatre is stressful at times, it’s also fun and her passion. 

“Okay…” Luci couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I’ll perform tonight.” 

Tal let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god. Okay, perfect. Thank you so much, Luci. I’ll see you at five.” \

“I’ll be there. Bye, Tal.” 

Luci hung up the phone and sat on her bed for what felt like forever, simply gazing into the sheets as she couldn’t believe what had happened. Luci was going to perform tonight; her dream was finally coming true. 

When the realization hit her, the corners of her lips turned up into a bright and excited smile. She laughed and screamed and squealed into her pillow, doing a little mini dance on her bed. Looking at the time, it was nearing eight so she had plenty of time to start her pre-show morning routine. But the first thing that she needed to do was to text her family. 

I’M PERFORMING TONIGHT! 

Instantly, she got responses from them. 

Nathan: REALLY?! I get off work at four, I could take a last minute flight. 

Luci hearted her brother’s message. 

Pa: Luci, I’m so happy for you! Your mother is still asleep but I’ll wake her up and tell her the news. We’ll see what we could do to make it to the show. 

She thanked them, texting that she hoped to see them tonight, but would understand if they couldn’t make it since it was last minute. 

Hopping out of bed, she washed up and changed into her workout clothes to go on a walk and grab a smoothie. It was such a beautiful day out that there were more people out on the streets in the morning than usual as they were basking in the bright sun and lovely weather. 

Once she got back home, she made her favorite breakfast—a bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel with cream cheese; and rehearsed some of the more emotional and dramatic lines, taking notes on which parts needed more depth of emotion. 

The day had gone by relatively fast as she showered, tidied, and packed her belongings; and it was already 3:45, so she headed out the door. 

As Luci was locking up and about to walk down the hall, she looked at Harry’s door. She hadn’t talked to him in about two weeks, since the time he opened his door to Samuel kissing her cheek. She had sort of missed him, and she felt like the event with Samuel had put up a wall; she felt like he was avoiding her.

Thinking back to their conversation at the diner, she remembered that he told her he would be there when it was her time to perform, and she didn’t want to not inform him on that because she had a feeling that he would be disappointed hadn’t he known. 

Bravely, she stood in front of his door and knocked, hoping that he was home because she didn’t have his number to tell him. Luci waited one minute before she knocked again and waited another minute before sighing. Just as she was two feet down the hall, his door suddenly opened, making her turn around quickly. Harry looked out into the hall without taking a step out of his apartment and saw Luci with a tote bag on her shoulder, wearing leggings, a vintage tee with Stevie Nicks printed on it, and a beige cardigan. 

“Luci?” 

She turned around. “Harry, hi. Uh, how are you?” Her attitude had visibly changed and brightened as she was ecstatic to see that he answered the door. His hair was wet, separating the strands of hair into slightly thicker chunks as water droplets lingered at the tips; which explained why he didn’t answer the door right away. 

“Good, good. How are you?” 

“Good—great, actually. I-I’m actually performing tonight and I wanted to tell you that in case you wanted to watch the show.” She suppressed a wide smile, linking his hands together to refrain herself from jumping up and down in excitement. 

Harry raised his brows before the corners of his lips turned upward. “Really?” She nodded. “Luci, that’s amazing!” He exclaimed. 

“Yeah, I’m really excited. I was just called this morning that I was performing tonight, so I’m heading to the theatre right now.” 

“I’m so happy for you. But I, uh, have plans already tonight. I’m sorry,” he said sympathetically. Luci couldn’t deny the ache in her chest when he said that, but she completely understood as it was a last minute decision for her to perform. 

“Oh, no worries. Maybe another time whenever I get to perform again. I’ll let you know?” 

“Yeah, please do.” He nodded. There was a bit of silence after as there was nothing left to say. “Well, uh, good luck out there.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Maybe we could get some coffee or a smoothie. There’s this really good smoothie place down the street-”

“Brooklyn’s Smoothies?” He asked; Luci nodded. “That’s my go-to smoothie place. But yeah, I’m down for that. Just let me know when.” 

Now, she had another thing she could be excited about: her second hangout with Harry. 

“Great!” She headed towards the hall before she walked back towards him, pulling her phone out. “Here, put your number in—only if you want to.” He chuckled, grabbing her phone as he quickly put his number and name into his phone before handing it back to her. “I’ll text you. Bye, Harry!” She waved as she walked towards the end of the hall; Harry waved back before walking back into his apartment and closing the door. 

Once she was on the subway, she found Harry’s contact, which he named himself ‘Harry (neighbor)’ as if he thought she was going to forget who he was. But it was quite the opposite as he seemed to invade most of her mind as she mindlessly thought about him. She almost always curses herself for being so nervous around him, but that was because he somewhat intimidated her; and that said a lot because she’s very confident in her own skin and rarely finds anyone intimidating. But there was just something about him that made her nervous, and that thought slightly scared her. 

Hi, Harry! It’s Luci, here’s my number. 

She placed her phone face down on her thigh that was relentlessly bouncing before she hit send. Before sending it, she looked over the text, practically overthinking a simple greeting that didn’t need any more thinking. A few minutes later as she was transferring trains and sitting on the blue bench, her phone vibrated. She picked up her phone as the screen lit up; Harry’s message appeared on the screen. 

Hiiii, thank you. Good luck tonight x 

Luci smiled crazily at her phone, putting her chin to her chest as she hid her smile from the many people on the subway with her. She thanked him, and decided to start another conversation after the show so she could tell him how the show went, which was an excuse to text him again. She locked her phone and turned the volume up higher as G Luné played through her Airpods. 

Her cheeks had started to hurt due to the fact that she couldn’t stop smiling, like it was genuinely difficult for her stop. A surge of happiness and relief had washed over her that she felt the happiness line on her chart increase. With a little over two months of living in New York, she had felt like her career was going nowhere when that was the entire reason why she moved there; the whole situation with Daisy had made her life plateaued as her happiness line wasn’t moving upwards. But tonight, it was skyrocketing.

T-minus five minutes until showtime, and Luci was bouncing on the balls of her feet. She started humming and whistling to get her mind off the perturbation that ran along the linings and spaces of her body; it didn’t help that everyone was literally running around, passing by one another through the dark corridor. 

Obviously, everyone knew that it was Luci’s first night performing, so they tried keeping everything light and easy for her, which she appreciated. Once she walked through the doors of backstage, she was immediately greeted with warm and excited smiles—the complete opposite as the last time she walked through the door. Nina squealed and hugged her as they both jumped around in elation; Luci truly missed the first friend she’d ever made on Broadway, and they promised each other that they’d hangout more often outside the theatre. 

After Luci had her hair and makeup done, changed into her costume, and was mic'd up, she was standing on the side of the stage where she could hear the crowd settling into their seats as they talked amongst themselves. Peter, who was playing Chris tonight, stood beside her, rolling his neck in circles and moving his jaw around. She was glad to know that Samuel wasn’t performing tonight because god only knows what he would say to her, only to get inside of her head right before the show. 

She heard the technical and stage crew speak into their headsets, asking if everyone was ready as they counted down from ten. The lights went out, the curtains were pulled to the side, and Luci’s mind went blank as ‘Kim’ took over, completely owning this character because it was fucking showtime. 

After two hours of pouring emotion to give her best act while the spotlight was on her, shining brighter than ever before so she couldn’t see the audience below her, watching intently, her first performance was successfully over. 

She’d earned a majority of standing ovations and was called for another curtain call, where she ran back on stage to overwhelmingly smile brightly, waved, bowed, and blew kisses to the crowd who were whistling and cheering for her wonderful performance. This amazing and exhilarating feeling was something she anticipated, and it did not disappoint; it was a feeling that she wanted to feel every other night. She loved the praise, the cheers, and the claps that were thrown at her so fast that she could cry at how hard the impact was. 

When she left the stage and headed over to the dressing room, her cast members cheered for her as Luci clapped all around the room for everyone’s hard work tonight as well. They all took pictures with one another to share this memorable moment; Luci told everyone to send her the pictures because she wanted to get them framed for her apartment because this moment was definitely frame-worthy. 

When it was time to leave, they all took off their costume and hung it on its rightful rack, and changed into their own clothes before walking out into the lobby where the audience could meet and greet some of the cast. Cheers erupted in the lobby once the cast walked through the doors, and they all smiled, mouthing ‘thank you’ and bowing their heads in appreciation. 

Luci walked through the crowd as they stopped her to tell her that she did an amazing performance; she was grateful and said thank you to everyone she came across. She weaved through the crowd, trying to find Nathan or anyone she could share this moment with; and she was lucky that Nathan was tall because she spotted him instantly. 

When she finally reached him, she was somewhat surprised to see their parents with him because they didn’t mention they were coming tonight, just that they had to see what they could do in order to make it. 

Beatrice was the first one to hug her. “Oh, my Lucky Star. I’m so proud of you!” She hugged Luci tight, swaying to the side. Once her mother let go, she hugged her dad who had the proudest and biggest smile on his face. 

“Lulu, you did amazing up there.” She smiled into Ren’s shoulder, feeling herself tear up from the positive reaction of her performance. 

Nathan was patiently waiting for his hug; and Luci pulled away from her father, giving him a smile before hugging her brother. 

“Ana, you’re so talented.” He squeezed her, patting her back as she always found the action comforting since she was a little girl. Beatrice was taking photos of her kids, tears glossing her eyes at her greatest accomplishments. 

“Thank you for coming. I know you’re tired from work, but thank you for being here anyways.” She could tell that Nathan had just put a long coat over his navy blue scrubs, meaning that he had flown to New York straight from work. 

“No worries. We wouldn’t miss this for anything, honestly.” 

Luci pulled away, smiling as she faced her family. She thanked her parents for coming, still surprised, and they said the same thing Nathan did: that they wouldn’t miss it for the world. 

They took pictures amongst each other, taking a family selfie before Ren had just asked someone nearby to take a proper photo of them. 

“Excuse me? Do you mind taking a picture of us?” The man turned around, making Luci softly gasp. Tonight was just full of surprises because Harry was the one who turned around and nodded, grabbing her mother’s phone to take a picture of her family. 

Harry looked dashingly handsome; he wore black trousers, a baby pink shirt with a black coat over. He held a bouquet of flowers in his arms as he took the picture; and for the life of Luci, she couldn’t dare to stop smiling at him instead of the camera. 

Ren was the first to walk over to him and thanked him, but Harry didn’t walk away, he simply stayed put until Luci walked over towards him. Her parents and brother were looking at each other warily, wondering how Luci knew the man who took their picture. 

“You’re here.” She smiled so brightly as if the spotlight was glued onto her. 

Harry blushed, looking down at his feet before looking back up. “Yeah, I told you I would be here when you were going to perform, right?” Something that she hadn’t witnessed yet until now, that took her by surprise, was the dimple that indented his left cheek, more so than his right cheek. He looked absolutely adorable when he smiled, on top of being handsome; Harry was simply a beautiful man. 

“You did tell me that, I remember.” She couldn’t stop the giddy grin that felt like it was permanently placed on her face because she couldn’t believe that he was here. 

“Oh, these are for you. You did an amazing job—the crowd loved you.” He handed her the mixed bouquet of pink peonies, baby pink roses, white lillies, and baby’s breath wrapped in brown paper. Luci smiled down at the bouquet, admiring how pretty the colors and how well the different flowers looked together. She wondered if Harry picked these out himself; if he individually picked every single flower that was in the bouquet. 

Feeling her face heat up, she unexpectedly leaned in for a hug; and this time, he was ready as he opened his arms and hugged her. He squeezed her tighter than he did when she was crying in his arms, making her heart flutter in her chest. Luci had completely forgotten that her family was behind her until she pulled away. Her eyes slightly widened, knowing that they were most likely enjoying the show that was happening off-stage of her hugging a man they didn’t know. 

“Thank you so much for coming, Harry. It means a lot to me.” He simply nodded. Luci slightly turned her body, presenting herself to her family. “Uh, Harry, this is my family. And this is Harry; he’s my neighbor.” 

Beatrice brows raised, and Luci gave her a knowing look that told her not to say anything weird. 

“Hi, I’m Beatrice, Luci’s mom.” She shook his hand. 

“Hello, I’m Harry. Nice to meet you.” Beatrice turned towards Luci with wide eyes once she heard his accented voice, and she chuckled at her mother’s reaction. 

Ren and Nathan introduced themselves, and they all made conversation quite easily. It was a side that Luci’s never seen of Harry—quite talkative. She wondered if she was the problem as to why he wasn’t so talkative. But she figured that almost everyone wanted to impress and get along with their friend’s parents. 

Once they were finished talking amongst themselves, Beatrice whispered into Ren’s ear and then Nathan’s; and Luci wondered what they could be so secretive about that they couldn’t say it out loud. 

Suddenly, Nathan said, “Well, we’ll see you soon, Ana.” He gave her a quick hug as Luci furrowed her brows, confused. 

“Oh, I thought we could get dinner or something.” It was like her parents didn’t even consider her suggestion as they were hugging her goodbye. 

“I have to get back to Boston, work tomorrow, y’know?” Nathan excuses; Luci nodded, understanding before turning her head towards her parents, seeing which excuse they’ll use since tomorrow was Sunday. 

“Uh, we have a flight to catch—red-eye.” Beatrice spoke up, a little white lie slipping so easily on her tongue. Luci looked at Ren, finding him nodding, warily looking at his wife. 

She could tell, inside and out, that her parents weren’t being truthful because she knew that they’d want to spend every minute with her while they were in the city so they wouldn’t get a red-eye flight on her opening night. Plus, Beatrice had been eyeing her and Harry ever since he introduced himself, so she knew that her family acting weird and how they suddenly had to leave was most likely them wanting Luci to hangout with Harry. 

“Plus, don’t you have an afterparty to go to?” Ren asked. 

“I mean, yeah, but I could always skip it-”

“Now, why would you do that? It’s your opening night; people are gonna be wondering where you are!” Ren did make a point, making Luci mentally agreeing. 

Luci didn’t bother asking any more questions, and decided to let them leave, although she was a bit sad that they had to leave again. They said another round of goodbyes and hugged each other tightly; they planned to come to New York again so they could properly hang out, and Luci said that she’ll see what she could do with going back home to visit. Of course, they didn’t forget to say goodbye to Harry; Ren and Nathan shaking his hand as Beatrice gave him a hug. Luci watched them interact as if he was an old boyfriend or a new boyfriend that they happened to like and adore so much. 

She waved to them as they headed outside the Broadway Theatre doors, and then she was left with Harry. He shyly smiled at her, and Luci hugged the bouquet of flowers tightly to her chest. 

“Uh, would you like to go to the afterparty with me?” She asked. 

Luci watched as Harry considered the invitation in his head. There were two options that he was debating from: go home and have a boring night in, or go to an afterparty with his insanely beautiful neighbor that he was slowly but surely taking a liking to. He realized that wasn’t such a difficult decision after all, so he chose the latter. 

“I’d love to.” 

The entire cast settled into the same lounge that held their very first afterparty. The lounge apparently didn’t mind since everyone contributed to buying lots of alcohol, so they obviously wouldn’t pass up the opportunity of business. 

Luci introduced Harry to the cast who decided to show up, and she was happy that they were very friendly and welcoming to him because the last thing she wanted was awkward tension between her neighbor and coworkers. She wished Nina had gone to the after party because Luci knew that she would get excited about the neighbor she’s crushing on. 

Luci and Harry decided to pace themselves with the drinks as they didn’t take the shots that were given to them at the same time as the rest; instead, they nursed and sipped their drinks. They were towards the end of the circle, in their own world as they talked to one another. Luci was happy they were getting to know each other better, but she figured that was the help and magic of what alcohol did. They told each other childhood stories that made each other laugh, increasing the buzz going on inside their heads. 

Harry had an additional glow to him when he was tipsy, and Luci thought it was the cutest thing ever. He was very touchy—placing a hand on her arm, shoulder, or knee at any given moment—and his laugh was contagious as it was loud and he threw his head back. It was a side that pleasantly took her by surprise, and she hoped that as they continued talking and hanging out, this side of him comes out more when they’re sober and comfortable with one another. 

“Can I ask why your brother calls you Ana?” He wondered, asking at the same time Luci was taking a sip of her drink. 

She nodded. “Yeah. So, Nathan is five years older than I am, and my mom and dad said when he was five, he still had a hard time speaking, like he’d babble and seem to talk gibberish. Anyways, when I was born, my parents were trying to get him to say my name, but couldn’t pick up on the first part of it; he started out with ‘An,’ but eventually picked up ‘Ana.’ And since then, it just seemed to stick—he’s the only one who calls me that and would personally get offended if someone else called me that.” She ended with a chuckle and a sip of her shot. 

“What’s your full name?” 

“Luciana Ivy Suki.” She said slow and a bit sultry, which she hadn’t meant to. The dark light and booze didn’t help that she felt a bit sexy. 

Harry smirked slightly. “Luciana.” He stated as if he was testing how it sounded and felt on the tongue. Luci felt a chill run down her body, making her skin prickle from the goosebumps. 

If she was starting to melt from the sound of her nickname from his lips, the sound of her full name had completely liquified her. 

After an hour, the two moved to the bar, completely forgetting that they were with the cast. Luci suggested getting more drinks for them, and Harry told her that he’d come with. He said something along the lines of “don’t want to miss a moment hanging out with you,” and Luci swore that her heart was becoming a butterfly’s nest as it sank down to her stomach and made her smile. 

“It’s genuinely insane how talented you are, like I was nearly crying by the end of the show!” He complimented, sipping on a Pomegranate Paloma through a thin black straw. Harry was genuinely so amazed as he watched Luci act, alas he was near the rear mezzanine, which was towards the back, he was still blown away by the entire production, especially Luci’s talents. 

“That’s so sweet. Thank you, Harry.” She smiled down at her Royal Manhattan, swirling the drink around in its glass. She was used to taking compliments about her acting and talent, but when Harry complimented her, it made her insides jittery and her face heat up; she felt so honored that Harry was praising her for her talents. 

“Now, can I ask…I thought you had plans tonight. What happened to that?” She wondered. 

Harry blushed, nervously chuckling. “Uh, I canceled them.” 

Her eyes widened. “W-Was it anything serious?” 

“It was a date that my friend, Jeff, set me up with but I wasn’t all that interested in the first place. 

She pouted. “Harry, I feel bad.” 

“Don’t be. I wanted to be here.” She smiled at that, looking at the contents inside of her glass. 

“I’m really glad you’re here.” She reciprocated the thought, clinking her glass with his as they both sipped their drinks. 

After another hour, the cast was lessening one by one, calling it a night as they said their goodbyes to Luci and Harry. She hadn’t realized how quickly time had gone by until the bartender of the lounge had told them that they were closing in a few minutes. Luci looked at her phone as the time read 12:55 a.m., which her and Harry laughed about because they were both in shock about the night being so late already. So, they left the lounge, not before generously tipping the bartender $40 each and gathered their belongings; Luci made sure to not forget the beautiful flowers Harry gave her. 

Neither of them felt like they were sober enough to get on the subway themselves, knowing they would probably get on the wrong one or fall asleep and end up somewhere else. So, they decided on an Uber, seeming as that was the most responsible and safest option there was. 

Luci got inside the black Honda, saying ‘hi’ to their driver. The entire ride back to Brooklyn was quiet, only the soft breaths they both exhaled and the pounding of their hearts. Harry felt himself getting sleepier, and unexpectedly resting his head against Luci’s shoulder. She tensed up at first, not expecting the action, but she welcomed it, placing her head on top of his. They both watched the city through the car window as it disappeared from their sight once they were in Brooklyn. 

Once they were in front of their apartment complex, Harry offered her his arm and she looped her arm through his, leaning into his side as he guided her to the elevator. He leaned against the corner of the elevator with Luci pressed up against his side with her arms still around his, and he looked down to see her eyes closed. He softly smiled, moving the strand of hair that had fallen in the middle of her face to the side. 

The loud Ding! of the elevator seemed to wake Luci up as she startled awake, making Harry chuckle. They walked down the hall and towards their door; Harry occasionally had to tell Luci to keep quiet as she was singing ‘Wannabe’ by the Spice Girls, but Harry couldn’t help but join in. 

When they got to their doors, as usual, they unlocked and opened it; but they didn’t immediately go inside their apartments. Instead, they turned around to face each other; both of their eyes droopy from the slight buzz that was still in their system. 

Luci smiled before leaning in to hug him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as his arms went around her waist. The hug was sweet and warm as it definitely fed to the touchy-feely side of their buzz. 

When they pulled away, Luci leaned up to boldly plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for being here, Harry. Shall we hang out next week?” Harry nodded, not trusting his voice to say anything as his heart erupted into flames. She gave him a smile as he was frozen from the chaste kiss; and Luci walked into her apartment, waving at him before she closed the door. 

Harry was out in the hallway, stunned as he blushed from the small kiss she had left on his cheek; and it was something he was going to be dreaming of until he wakes up, only to think about it over and over again. 

Harry was cooking breakfast when he heard relentless knocking on his front door. He peeked his head out from the kitchen to look at the door, like that would tell him who was behind it, as he was whisking some eggs in a white glass bowl. Setting the bowl down, he walked over to the door and opened it. 

To his surprise, Luci was behind it as tears streamed down her face with her phone in her hand; she was in her soft blue pajama pants with a black hoodie over, and despite her recent state, Harry thought she looked absolutely adorable and cuddly. But he pushed that thought to the side; immediately, Harry was concerned. His eyes widened and his protective side turned on, thinking he was going to lose his shit on whoever caused this poor girl to cry. 

“I-I’m sorry. I just…” she hiccupped, and Harry took her into his arms. He was slightly confused about what had happened during the six hours he’d last seen her—when they were coming home from the lounge. He still couldn’t get that kiss out of his head; in fact, it was difficult for him to sleep because he kept reiterating it in his head.

He pulled her into his apartment, closing the door as he sat her down on his brown leather couch. She cried into his shoulder as she passed him her phone that was unlocked on an article. He grabbed it, not letting go of her while he rubbed her arm. 

The article read on the bright screen read: 

Miss Saigon or Miss No-BE GONE! 

Just twelve hours ago, I went to see the show ‘Miss Saigon; for the second time. The first time I went to see it was last month when Broadway star royalty, Ms. Daisy Beck, was playing the role of ‘Kim.’ With its amazing cast, production set, and story-telling, I knew I needed to see the play again. 

My hopes and dreams were crushed when I didn’t see Ms. Beck on stage, but instead, a newbie Broadway actress known as Luciana Suki. Before writing this review, I did some research on her to my very best ability because she’s practically a nobody in this business, and found out that she had been in several commercials since she was a child (great another child actor) and has been on Off-Broadway, which definitely explains the acting! At least give a man a warning before I decide to put up with a shit-show of a performance. I couldn’t even stay for the entire show because it was completely horrifying to see injustice served to Kim and a downgrade from Daisy Beck. 

I tried, I really tried; but I left during intermission. Luciana Suki is not meant to be playing the part of Kim—almost everyone agrees. There was no connection, no emotion to the character, and it was a poorly done job in Luciana’s part and the casting. 

It’s Daisy Beck or no production. Simple as that, or else, the show will lose its audience and precious money that they wasted on paying Luciana Suki. 

Harry sighed, balling his hands up into fists as he locked her phone and set it aside. How could anybody be so cruel? He understood the importance of critics to the theatre, but to outright insult and humiliate someone wasn’t even critical—it’s being straight up rude. 

Once Luci was ready and had somewhat calmed down, she pulled away from Harry’s embrace, looking at him. Poor Luci’s eyes were swollen and her eyes were red from the crying, and she was a sniffling mess. Harry quickly grabbed her a few tissues to dry her tears, and she blew her nose into the soft cotton paper, not really caring how unattractive she thought it was. 

“That article was written by Adam West—the most important critic in Broadway.” She wiped the snot under her nose. “H-He practically just ruined my career and any chances I have on Broadway ever again.” Luci sobbed as it was difficult for her to accept the fact that she may never act ever again because of a senior journalist. Her chest hurt and her eyes started to become sore from the amount of times she squeezed them shut, freeing her tears. 

“No, come here.” Harry’s heart ached for her, and he couldn’t imagine what she must be going through when that article was directly made towards her. He pulled her in for another hug, and she softly cried against his chest, staining his white t-shirt with her tears, but he couldn’t care less. “You’re insanely talented—critics or no critics—no one could deny your talent. What he said was unprofessional and poorly written, and that’s coming from an English major and a teacher. Now, I’m sure that you know you’re extremely gifted and you’ve worked hard to get to where you are. So, don’t let him get to you because almost everyone loved your performance last night.” 

Harry reassured her quite well that Luci had calmed down; it helped that the vibrations from his chest to her ear as he talked had soothed her—it was quite relaxing. She pulled away again, looking at him through glassy eyes as another tear threatened to fall. He placed his palms against her cheeks, taking his thumbs and running it across her skin to wipe her tears away. 

“Would you like some French Toast? Heard it’s a comfort-food, but I may be wrong. Maybe I’m being biased because I think my recipe is good.” He tried lightening up her mood, and it’d definitely worked because she breathed out a chuckle and nodded. 

“I’m not intruding, right?” He shook his head. “No significant other to get mad at me and throw me out?” She slyly asked as she had been wondering if he had someone. Plus, she was still wondering about the red-hair woman who frantically left his apartment. 

“Nope.” 

“The…red-haired girl. You’re not with her?” 

Harry smirked as he definitely indulged into the slightly jealous feeling that Luci was portraying. “No, we’re not dating. She’s just a friend.” He chuckled. “What about you? Someone I should be worried about?” He stirred the topic towards her as curiosity also got the best of him. 

“Nope.” She answered the same way he did. “Do you make out with all of your friends? Noticed her lipstick was a bit smeared off.” Luci knew later on that she would regret opening her mouth and spewing out those particular choice of words. Her tone also seemed a bit jealous, and she had no right to be, but her crush on Harry was quickly increasing. 

“I mean, some of them; when the time comes.” He somewhat joked. 

“Would you make out with me?” Luci spat out, but quickly slapped her palm against her mouth, eyes widening. Her mind was speaking for herself as she’d been dreaming of the way Harry’s pink lips felt against her mouth and other places she wouldn’t dare speak aloud. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why-”

“Yeah, I would,” he responded honestly. This was the most honest and straight-forward he’d ever been, which only occurs every few months, so it was time to close that window again and wait for it to open. But he also couldn’t deny his attraction to her, like it was difficult to not be so enticed with her. He felt at complete ease with her, and it felt incredibly easy to talk to Luci and be open. “So, the French Toast?” He changed the subject, walking over to the kitchen, leaving Luci glued to her seat on the couch. 

Astonished by his words, she was extra shocked that he was so quick to move on from his response. But she was glad to know that he would want to kiss her, maybe, some time in the future; but the thought made her giddy because she undeniably wanted to kiss him too.

come talk to me about your favorite moments and scenes, and your thoughts and feelings! thank you for reading <3 next chapter will be posted next saturday! 

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x ofc #harry styles ff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #harry styles writing #teacher!harry #boyfriend!harry #actress!oc

[fallinnflower]

will you be there?

hoshi x reader (apocalypse!au, established relationship, drama, fluff)

wc: 4.9k

a/n: this was originally written for my best friend’s birthday a few years back, and she’s given me permission to post it here while i’m in a bit of a slump with new writing. it has been edited/polished before posting!

You scarcely remember how it all started, where the end of the world began. The road’s beginning seems so far from you now, and you might think you had dreamed the world before were it not for the hand that holds yours as you scope out the farmhouse nestled in the valley’s swell. 

The image is like a painting, you think, except that the silence enveloping you both leaves you rattled rather than at ease. The end of the world does that, you think, as Soonyoung squeezes your hand gently, shouldering his way carefully into the house. Your free hand rests habitually on the blade tucked against your hip (really just a glorified kitchen knife, but better than nothing), and the hardwood floors exhale dust as you step silently across them. 

For the first time in hours (probably, but what is time when the sun has been hazed out by clouds in this part of the country for the past several days as you’ve wandered?) the two of you cease touching, sparing glances before you move to comb through the house. His eyes sparkle the way you recall the night sky, and you allow that thought to steel your resolve as you pick through the kitchen, the cupboards creaking as you open them. 

In one, you find an assortment of cans, and choose to grab two just in case you find a reason not to stay in this place any longer. 

You find no signs of danger or disturbance within the house — no other raiders have come through, and the house must have been left in a hurry. It still looks lived-in, and that is the disconcerting part; a breathing relic. In the dining room there is a fireplace, and on the mantle are color photographs behind unmarred glass, a tablecloth still draped over the four-seater table. The chairs are pushed in; beside the mantle, on a hook, hangs a dog’s leash and a set of car keys. 

Vehicles stopped working an eternity ago, but you can vividly remember your first date with Soonyoung, when he was too nervous to stand close to you on the bus until it became overcrowded and rattled on the road, and you could feel his heart beating quicker and quicker—

You can’t be sure if it is the dust or something else choking you up, and so you move back towards the front door. 

Soonyoung deems the other half of the house clear, and mentions that he saw a well out in the yard. If there’s water, he mentions, you might both be able to manage some sort of bath. You tell him about the food and the fireplace, and he smiles,

“Dinner and a bath, then.” Even with the dust streaking his face, he’s still the most stunning boy you’ve ever seen. 

His fingertips graze your cheek, and you smile in return. 

There are two battery-powered flashlights in the house, one in the kitchen and one in the master bedroom. While most of the linens have been eaten through by moths, the winter supply had been safe in a trunk with mothballs, and the towels you both deem suitable to your needs. You take trips to the well to fill the bottles you carry in your bags, and the large bowl you had found in the lowest cabinet. Soonyoung starts a fire while you measure out water for the bag of rice you had found in the cupboards. 

It’s the closest the two of you have gotten to domesticity since you fled your city apartment, determined to get off the grid like everyone else, stuffing a backpack with food and some clothes and running. You’re loath to admit it, but you find yourself looking back a lot. 

Soonyoung is heating the extra water over the fire, humming as he watches for steam. Beside him sits a bottle of shampoo and one of conditioner, along with a small, yellow bar of soap. A smile curls up the edges of his lips, and you thank whatever deity is watching over you for letting you keep him, if nothing else. 

You wash his hair first when the water is hot enough, gently combing through it. The water turns the color of dirt as you card your fingers through. He keeps his eyes shut, a contented noise rising from the base of his throat as you massage his scalp, and you can’t keep yourself from smiling. Even when the world has been turned upside down, your Soonyoung is just the same.

You rinse out his hair in the backyard with a bucket, and trim his bangs with scissors you found in a kitchen drawer. He shakes his head like a dog, and you break the stillness of the valley with your laughter. 

Soonyoung compliments your cooking; he grins his cheeky grin and you pinch one of his cheeks. He’s thinner now than he was, paler with the dust washed away, and you know he’s scraped some of the rice onto your plate when he thought you weren’t paying attention. You aren’t stupid, but you can’t bring yourself to argue; you’ve done the same for him.

You let your hand linger on his cheek, running your thumb along the line of his cheekbone, and he leans in to press his forehead to yours. 

“I love you,” he says, softly, like a secret, your noses brushing. You smile, close your eyes because you feel the tears stinging there,

“I love you, too.”

Even before you started dating Soonyoung, you knew he was going to be an important person in your life. Call it a hunch, call it Fate — the moment you met him, you just knew. 

It didn’t take you long to fall in love with him, though; after Joshua introduced the two of you, you realized he was just one of those rare, lovable people that drew others to him. He had a natural presence, as Jihoon had put it, and you were a moth to his flame. 

Your study sessions turned into study dates turned into just dates, and three months in he accidentally said he loved you before hanging up over FaceTime and turned the brightest red you’d ever seen him. 

(He still blushes when he says he loves you, tips of his ears turning pink, and it’s one of the things that makes you look to the past rather than the future.)

At night you lie down on the bed in the master bedroom after shaking out the sheets and checking the mattress. Soonyoung lets you use him as a pillow, and you follow his heartbeat like a lullaby as he runs his fingers through your freshly washed hair. 

You hear him humming and you think about the past, detached, catching fragments of your memories as they pass by—

Stars. Dancing. He always loved to dance, but not as much after Jihoon disappeared. Everyone went off the grid so quickly. You wonder who’s left; sometimes it feels like just the two of you, wandering alone. 

You wonder if anyone has made it to Joshua’s house, the safe one by the beach where rumor had it some people could be safe from the end of the world for just a bit longer. 

You wonder if Joshua is alive. 

Soonyoung continues humming. You curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt and bury your face in his shoulder. Some questions are better left unanswered.

The rumble of thunder startles you awake, the walls of the house faintly trembling with the force of it. It takes you a moment to adjust before you realize just what is happening.

Soonyoung stirs awake before you can even think to rouse him.

“It’s raining,” you whisper, and you watch as the excitement spreads slowly across his face, first widening his eyes and then curving them into crescents as he smiles. A flash of lightning makes his eyes spark, followed closely by another rumble of thunder that rattles the windows. Soonyoung laughs, the sound soft and yet so overpowering that you can’t help but follow suit. His fingers bunch up in your shirt and pull you closer by the small of your back, laughing breathlessly against the crown of your head.

“Soonyoung,” you say, voice just a little louder than before, and he hums in response. “Sing for me?” He hesitates, but in the end, he breathes out his reply slowly,

“Alright.” Soonyoung’s eyes slip closed as the storm picks up outside, the rain slanting towards the windows, and you tuck your head against his shoulder as he clears his throat. His voice is soft — it’s been so long since he’s sung for any reason — and he sings a song you remember Jihoon composing what seems like a lifetime ago. You watch his face carefully, the way his eyes stay closed as he concentrates, the way he shuts them tighter as his voice begins to tremble—

He gets through the first chorus before his voice finally warbles to a halt, his breaths shaking past his lips. You pull him closer to you, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair as he takes deep gulps of air. 

He doesn’t cry, because crying is for when people are dead, and neither of you wants to admit that Jihoon (or Seungcheol or Joshua or Minghao or—) is possibly gone. 

The rain drowns out the sound of his shaky breaths until it lulls you both to sleep. 

For the first time in a long, long time, you wake up before Soonyoung, your head resting on the pillow beside his. The sunlight washes over his face through the dusty windows, his lips slightly parted. They look a little chapped, you notice, and it sends a small pang through your heart; he’s still beautiful, but he’s not the same Soonyoung he used to be, the bangs you cut for him choppy and sticking out in all directions, his cheeks no longer as rounded out, dark bags under his eyes. You swallow thickly, reaching out to smooth down his hair, still thick and soft despite it all, standing out in stark contrast against the pale yellow sheets.

Soonyoung’s nose twitches slightly as the tips of his hair tickle his face, lips quirking up on one side into something almost like a smile in his sleep. It strikes you, then, hard and heavy in your chest, that you love Soonyoung more than anything in this godforsaken world; you’ve chosen to live with him, knowing full well you will more than likely die with him, too. 

You don’t regret it, even as the heaviness settles into your chest, feeling almost slightly like sobs trapped in your throat.

Soonyoung opens his eyes before you can dwell too long on that feeling, and they sparkle like stars even as he blinks tiredly at you. You smile, but it feels a little shaky, and run your hand through his hair again,

“Good morning.” A beat, and then, “I love you.” The drowsiness on his face is replaced by a smile so bright it brings tears to your eyes. His eyes still squint in the same 10:10 lines when his cheeks bunch up beneath them, and you feel the familiar warmth spreading through your chest. 

You used to talk about what your calling might have been in terms of occupation, but now you think it’s always been Soonyoung that was waiting for you at the end of the road. 

The two of you are slow to get up that morning, making the bed and packing away more clean linens in your packs. With the light spilling in through the grimy windows, it’s clear to see just how dilapidated the house is; both yours and Soonyoung’s footprints are visible in the dust and dirt coating the floors. You take a second sweep of the house, finding a few utensils in the kitchen that you had missed the night before, along with some dish soap. You can’t remember the last time you and Soonyoung had regular access to soap like this, but the family that had lived here seemed to have bought some things ahead of time. You imagine it’s because they lived so far from the nearest town.

There are gardening hats hanging by the back door, and you offer one to Soonyoung and take the other for yourself. When the two of you step out into the sunlight, packs filled and straw hats perched atop your heads, you can’t help but smile at the image of him beside you, his eyes squinted against the sky as he picks out the direction you need to go. 

“That way,” he says. “We should reach a city in a few hours.”

“Okay,” you reply, because there isn’t really anything else to be done but agree with him. After all, with the world gone the way it is, you’ve found yourself putting as much trust as possible in Soonyoung. (Which, in all honesty, isn’t so different from how it was before the apocalypse started.) The two of you walk through what used to be the house’s backyard, with remnants of an old garden still visible, stakes jutting up out of the ground. You can’t help but think this must once have been a nice place to live. 

The two of you follow the parallel lines of dirt and sand through the grass, walking on until you find the road.

Soonyoung was right, you reach the city within a matter of hours; the sun hasn’t even set by the time you find yourselves passing old stoplights more frequently. You watch them sway with the breeze, not a single bird perched on the wires, and wonder when things got this bad. The two of you stick close to one another, peering into windows and cautiously toeing open doors. 

“We should just stay here for the night,” he says, and you nod. A nagging part of you knows that Soonyoung isn’t quite ready to reach your destination, isn’t ready to see which of your friends have survived and which have been consumed by the desolate world which now consumes you. To be honest, you aren’t sure you’re ready, either, but how could anyone be?

The two of you find an apartment above a coffee shop just by chance, and while Soonyoung moves forward to scout the bathroom and bedroom you find yourself standing alone in the small living room, staring at the dusty couch with tears stinging your eyes. It’s really more of a glorified studio apartment than anything, and it reminds you so acutely and painfully of the apartment you had just recently gotten with Soonyoung, and how the two of you spent ages trying to find a cheap couch to fill your barren living room; dishes and silverware and bedding, all those stupid decorative pillows neither of you needed but bought for the hell of it and put in an apartment you’ll never get to really live in or likely see again—

Soonyoung returns to the living room to find you exactly where he left you, face in your hands and openly sobbing for the first time since you both started running for the coastline. He doesn’t say a word, just pulls you into his arms and presses his cheek against your hair, squeezing comfortingly at the fabric of your sweatshirt. You cling to Soonyoung as though he’s a life preserver, and you feel his shoulders tremble as he redoubles his grip on you.

“I love you,” he whispers, as though his voice will break if he raises it even slightly. 

You open your mouth to reply, but you only cry harder. He presses a kiss to your hair, and you both stand like that until you finally relax enough to scout through the rest of the rooms. Neither of you bring it up, but it’s all you can think about all through the evening, watching the shadows lengthen along the walls and floors. You wonder how many people have ransacked your apartment by now.

You fall asleep clinging to Soonyoung as tightly as possible. He’s the only thing you have left.

In the morning, you manage to make a little bit of coffee for the both of you with some old, yet somehow fresh, coffee grounds from downstairs. It’s bitter, and there are bits of coffee floating around in the cup, but Soonyoung smiles at you as if you’ve given him a valuable gift. 

He spreads a nice, glossy map across the coffee table in the living room, and shows you the route you’ll be taking to the coast using a red permanent marker. 

“I found this in one of the kitchen drawers,” he explains, looking up at you with a small smile still playing at the corners of his lips. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “We’ll be at Joshua’s tomorrow at the latest.” 

You smile in what you hope is a reassuring manner, reaching out to squeeze Soonyoung’s hand and hoping that’s enough; there’s nothing you can say to assuage his fears, and so the two of you merely get on with your morning in the usual way, and set out before the sun is too high above the horizon. 

The seasons are changing, and it makes you realize just how long you’ve been on this journey already. It had still been the heat of summer when you last saw other scavengers; the beginning of said season when you had last driven a car, or seen a working electric light. There’s no explanation for what happened (and it’s likely to stay that way, with no means of researching the event or spreading such information), though you aren’t sure you’d be comfortable with one. In some ways, the conspiracies that had been flung around in the early days of the outages are enough to leave you tired of searching for answers you won’t get.

The two of you hold hands on your walk, and you can feel the slight chill that lingers in his fingers, a sign of autumn approaching. The trees look deader the longer you walk on, and you wonder how you’ll manage to survive the winter (if you get that far).

You stop yourself there, picking the pace up slightly. If Soonyoung notices the sudden, slight change in your demeanor, he does nothing to stop it; merely matches pace with you, so you won’t be alone.

Neither of you say a word, as is typical, conserving your energy, but he squeezes your hand just a little to let you know he’s beside you still.

Before the grid shut off, Soonyoung had been a dance instructor and choreographer. He loved his job. He had a stage name he’d given himself when he was just barely a man: Hoshi. The Japanese word for star, like the ones that shine in his eyes when he smiles. You’ve associated the two ever since, Soonyoung and stars go hand in hand. Jihoon used to say he was born to be on the stage, he called it destiny. Written in the stars.

You’ve never agreed so wholeheartedly.

At your next stop, you find an actual apartment building and climb all the way to the first floor, kicking in doors and salvaging whatever you possibly can. Very few items of any use have been left behind, but you find a battery-powered CD player in one of the bedrooms and opt to take it with you, along with a small case of CDs you find. Soonyoung meets you in the hallways with an old tote bag full of cans and two bags of rice, then smiles somewhat mischievously at you. It reminds you of the Soonyoung before, flighty in the best way, when he says,

“Did you know this building has rooftop access?”

Lying atop one of the first blankets you had ever stolen, back when you still felt guilty every time you took a belonging from an abandoned home, dishes from dinner scraped clean beside you, you and Soonyoung watch the sky turn from violet to black. Old ballads play through the somewhat grainy speakers of your new possession, and you tuck yourself against your boyfriend’s side. Soonyoung’s hair smells like the sunlight that had been beating down on you both all through the day, and you can’t help but to run your fingers through it every now and again as you stare up at the stars that glitter so brightly in the sky.

Under other circumstances, the lack of light pollution would have seemed like a breath of fresh air, and yet…

So much has changed, and so quickly. Even Soonyoung, a constant at your side, is different than he was; you can’t remember the last time you saw him dancing, saw his cheeks rounded out with laughter he couldn’t contain. Calling him your boyfriend feels too impermanent now— he’s your life partner. Of this you’re certain.

The song changes to one you can remember hearing over the radio back when you and Soonyoung first started dating, and you take his hand and drag him up off the blanket.

“Let’s dance,” you say, and you swear you see the stars darken in contrast to the light that suddenly emanates from his eyes as he pulls you close to him. What you do couldn’t be considered dancing in any academic sense, merely swaying to the music and occasionally spinning until you fall into each other’s shoulders with laughter spilling softly past your lips, but it’s the lightest either of you have felt since the start of summer. You take his broad, unabashed smile as a sign that the times are changing for the better.

He smiles at you for a long moment before pulling you against his chest once more, his lips close to your ear. The two of you still way gently to the rhythm of the song, and you let your eyes slip closed, resting against his chest.

“I’m so happy I know you,” he says, softly, and you bite the inside of your lip to keep back the sudden tension you feel in your jaw, the tightening of your chest. Tomorrow, you will reach the coast, and everything will change again— though for better or worse, you can’t tell.

So you tighten your hold and squeeze your eyes shut, savoring the moment.

“Me, too.”

When the next morning dawns, you can see the differences in Soonyoung. He moves a bit more hesitantly, though you’re sure it’s far from a conscious decision, fueled by the anxiety that comes with the knowledge that later today, you’ll find out just how many of his friends you can confirm to be alive. It’s a daunting thought, that this whole journey is about to come to an end; there will be a place for you sleep, semi-permanently, and a house with other people to surround you—

You rest a hand on his shoulder when you notice him staring blankly into his bag, nearly finished packing, and when he looks at you his face bears a troubled smile. He takes your hand in his, presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, and returns to his packing with a soft, resigned sort of expression on his face. It would be so easy, you think, to tell him everything is going to be okay, but it feels too wrong to lie to him like that when neither of you know what’s going to happen even in the same minute. All you can do is take his hand as the two of you embark on the final leg of your journey, the sun beating down on your shoulders and the wind carrying just the slightest chill.

Soonyoung halts slightly when he catches the scent of salt in the air; when sand begins to appear in the crack of the roads you wander down; when you can no longer deny how close you’ve come to the end of the road. You don’t have a back-up plan if nobody is waiting for you, and your hunts for provisions have been conducted with the focus of getting you to the coast and won’t last you for too long beyond that, especially if you don’t have a plan. 

You pull him to a gentle stop when you realize you’re both overwhelmed by your own thoughts, and scrape together a lunch of dehydrated fruit. It had been a rare find, but you hope it will lift both of your spirits to have something sweet and familiar. It’s the best you can offer. Soonyoung seems to know what you’re trying to do, because he smiles when you press the food into his palm.

“We’ll figure it out,” you say, and he sighs when he’s finished chewing. He drops his head to rest it on your shoulder, and you reach up to brush his bangs aside.

“I know.” His voice sounds as though he’s carrying the weight of the world. You hope he’ll let you help shoulder the burden. It’s with that thought in mind that the two of you continue on your way, the map your only source of guidance. 

Neither of you have been to Joshua’s beach house since a spring break that seems like a very, very long time ago, and memorable mostly because Hansol did one too many jello shots and fell off the diving board into the pool trying to show off. On that trip, you had both been cuddled up in the backseat while Jihoon snapped at Mingyu after he made his third wrong turn. Together you have little more than hazy memories of the house’s location, and so you’re forced to rely on the directions Joshua had given you when this plan was first hatched and the maps you’ve picked up along the way. 

Many of the houses you pass along the way showcase lawns littered with broken, summer-themed decorations; flags and plastic lawn ornaments that no longer serve any practical use and have been tossed around by storms. The windows have been knocked out, leaving drapes that flutter past the broken glass and wave in surrender to those that pass.

You wonder if anyone has tried to raid Joshua’s house while he’s been in it, if any of the houses that seem slightly less damaged are also being lived in while people do their best to survive. It’s hard to imagine that you and Soonyoung may be in a similar position soon.

When you’re close enough to hear the sea, Soonyoung stops and trades his map for the small scrap of paper where you had hurriedly written down Joshua’s directions. In them he had given landmarks, though how many of those have survived it’s difficult to say; you and Soonyoung navigate the streets slowly, the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon. The only sounds are the scuffing of your shoes on the sandy asphalt and the lonely calls of gulls in the distance. 

A shock of pale blue to your right catches your eye, and you glance down at the paper in Soonyoung’s hand before tugging at his sleeve.

“That’s one of the landmarks, isn’t it? The big blue house over there?” You point first to the line on the note, then direct your boyfriend’s gaze to the house. He smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“You’re a genius,” he coos, and there’s more energy in his steps now as you follow him. According to Joshua, if the two of you continue down the street that starts at the blue house, you’ll find his at the end, which is the only thing you really remember about that spring break; Joshua’s house at the end of a little culdesac, a tiny white number to cap the street off.

And you know the house the second you see it, even if the windows are sealed shut and there’s no music pouring out of the door as you approach; you recognize the car in the driveway, although now it’s covered in sand and grime; you recognize the mailbox with the little birds painted on it, the half-porch to the side, the gated backyard that you know houses a pool (or what remains of it).

Soonyoung stops at the end of the driveway, staring up into the house as though the windows were the eyes of a great beast, and you take his face in your hands and force him to look down at you. You’re sure his heart is pounding just as loud and fierce as yours, a heavy weight of anxiety taking root in your stomach at the same moment that hope bubbles up in your chest. Everything is about to change; you can feel it when the wind whistles through your hair.

“No matter what happens,” you say, pressing your forehead to his and watching as his eyes flutter shut, as he takes a deep and calming breath. “I’m with you.” He almost smiles as those words leave your lips, and you step away, reaching out for his hand.

It is Soonyoung who knocks, keeping you positioned just slightly behind him for fear of who may be inside, and for a long moment it seems as though nobody will answer. Your heart throbs in your chest, your hands shaking as you press your palm against the grip on your blade—

“Hoshi?” Someone on the other side of the door asks, softly. You see Soonyoung’s shoulders tremble.

“It’s me,” he says. The door slowly opens, and there stands Joshua, thinner and more disheveled than you remember him but still sporting that wonderful, cat-like smile. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees the both of you, and opens the door all the way, stepping aside,

“Welcome home.”

#caratwritersclub #kpop scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop writing #kpop fanfic #kpop texts #My writing

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

When We Went From Friends to This - a. beauvillier

One day late, but here it is! I’ve been studying for the LSAT, but finally took it today, so I’ll have some more time to be writing more regularly now. Title is from Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings. I loved getting to write this, so please please let me know what you think, my inbox is always open! Reading the tags is one of my favorite things to do, and reblogs help me know people are liking my work.

word count: 7.7k+

September 18 (sat)

Astride Leclair was the kind of person you always wanted on your side. She’d drop anything for a friend, always be the first to reach out, and would never give up on something — or someone — without a fight. She was also incredibly stubborn. Astride had also always had a penchant for adventure, which is how she found herself in a new job 600 miles and one international border from her hometown. And she hated asking for help, it really didn’t matter the circumstance. Which is how she found herself alone, trying to heft an armchair up the stairs of her new apartment building after being very rudely informed by the width of the elevator door that it wasn’t going to fit. 

The lump sum her firm gave her for relocation was enough to cover a fair amount of the furniture for her new place and she tried to bring as much as she could on the drive down, but it wasn’t like she was about to rent a U-Haul and there was only so much a Honda Civic could hold. And Astride was still her father’s daughter, still would rather step on a rusty nail than pay Ikea for assembly, so by God she was going to do it herself. And “doing it herself” apparently meant dragging an 80 pound box up three flights of stairs in 90º heat in September, when New York City seemed to have not quite yet gotten the memo that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was now in fall. 

Astride finally managed to get the chair in the door, propping the door open with one of her moving boxes, unceremoniously pulling the box through the entryway as she scooted backwards into the living room. The 600 square foot expanse of her apartment was covered in boxes, more boxes, and for good measure, extra boxes. There were moving boxes, furniture boxes, shoeboxes filled with anything except for actual shoes. There was her guitar leaning against the microwave, three suitcases worth of clothes in the barely-assembled bedroom, and her dog in a crate in the corner, who had started to whine. 

“I know, baby, I’ll get you out soon,” Astride said, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the beagle mix. She had adopted Poutine a little over a year ago, soon after starting her first job out of university. It was never a question whether or not she would make the trip with Astride, and thankfully it was much easier than she anticipated to find a dog-friendly apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t too long a walk to Prospect Park, a little under a mile, and she was looking forward to getting out with Poutine later in the day. If, that was, she actually finished unpacking enough boxes to function like a normal human being. She had picked up her mattress-in-a-box earlier in the day, but it was still sitting in the corner of her bedroom and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on the hardwood floor. 

---

Three hours later, Astride had finally gotten all of the boxes out of her car and began to make decent headway on assembling the chair, finally having let Poutine out of her crate. The beagle trotted around the apartment, sniffing the baseboards, boxes, and single bag of groceries Astride had picked up from Whole Foods earlier in the day. The rest of her Ikea order was coming the next day, the actual bedframe and couch along with a couple of other larger furniture pieces that she had had to leave in Montréal. Whatever she couldn’t order online she’d find at a thrift store. 

Astride looked tiredly over at the kitchen. She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, and was in even less of a mood to dig through all the boxes until she finally found her set of pots and pans. She really should have taken her mom’s advice and labeled everything, but Astride was stubborn as a mule, and once she was stuck in her ways, there was precious little anyone could do to convince her otherwise. Pulling out her phone, she navigated to her Uber Eats, feeling a tiny pang in her heart as she switched her location to New York. Not the language, though. Astride was so hungry that she literally clicked on whatever place could get there the fastest, which ended up being a Chinese place a mile or so away. After placing her order — she got an extra box of chow mein so she wouldn’t have to deal with breakfast the next day — she settled back into the hair, the only fully-assembled piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Her finger hovered over her Instagram for a moment before she clicked on it, liking a few photos before going to post one of her own. It was a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge as she crossed it that morning, Poutine’s head lolling out the front window. One tap and one caption later, it was posted. 

---

Anthony flopped onto his bed, his duffel landing with a satisfying thump on the floor beside him. Training camp had just ended, and while he’d certainly been keeping up on his workouts over the summer, the hours upon hours of skating had nevertheless made him more than a little sore. He grabbed his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolling through the new posts, only half paying attention. Astride’s new photo caught his eye.

Sometimes, needing a change means a new haircut. Sometimes, it means a new country. Very excited to start this next chapter in my life. Salut, New York! Anthony quickly clicked onto her profile page and read her bio. International economics analyst. Eating my way through the world one pancake at a time. BCom McGill. MTL-NYC. He read the last line over and over again. MTL-NYC. He swiped back to the photo; she had tagged herself in Brooklyn. Brooklyn. She was less than an hour away, not even thirty if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she hadn’t told him, she hadn’t said anything. Anthony felt a pang in his heart. Astride knew who he played for — obviously — and she knew that of course he’d want to see her any time they were even remotely in the same place. She knew that. Right? 

He spent the next twenty minutes typing out a message to her. Then deleting it. Then retyping it. Then continuing the type-delete-retype cycle until his head was spinning. This was his best friend. Why was he so nervous to talk to her? Because she was his best friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn’t sure where they stood. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. Hey Asty! He internally cringed at himself at the use of her old nickname. I saw you moved to New York, that’s amazing! I’m over on Long Island, so I’d love to catch up with you for coffee or something when you get a chance. It’s been too long :) 

It might have been a little petty — scratch that, it definitely was petty — but Astride didn’t respond to his text that night. She didn’t have read receipts on, thank God, but it sat in her messages, without response, like something she was too scared to confront. And she didn’t even know why. Okay, fine, she knew exactly why. She had moved and suddenly they were in the same city for the first time since they were kids and he was, had been, her best friend, but why now of all times? It’s not like he was never in Montréal during the year, or like they couldn’t have committed to a weekly FaceTime or something, or at least texted more than once a month. He could have done something. And that something, that lack of a something, was what kept her from responding until the next morning, tapping out a text as she halfheartedly made her way through a bowl of oatmeal. Hi, Tito, just saw your text! Lie. I did, an opportunity for a transfer came up and I decided to take it. I figured you were pretty close by, so it would be great to catch up. I don’t start at the office for a week, if you’re free any time between now and then. That much was true. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the Islanders played on, well, Long Island, and as much as she wanted to still hold a grudge against him, her heart ached at the prospect of finally being able to see him again. 

Anthony responded almost instantly, Astride having just closed the door to the dishwasher — a luxury in New York, she was told — before seeing her phone light up with the telltale bubble. I’d love to, we just finished up training camp so I’m more or less free aside from practices. A second later. Is brunch still your favorite meal?

Astride laughed. It didn’t surprise her that he remembered, but it was still touching to see him say something about it. It is.

How about Tuesday? I’ll send you the directions. It’s this little café in Flatbush, I think you’ll love it. 

I’m counting on it. 

September 26 (sun)

Brunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into going to a Broadway show — Anthony had insisted the moment she told him she’d never been — which had turned into him coming over for Saturday night movies, an old habit of the pair’s from their days back in Québec. Which had turned into two movies and two bottles of wine, which had turned into Tito sleeping over on the couch instead of driving the thirty-odd minutes back to his apartment. Poutine sniffed him curiously, nudging one hand with her head. Astride stifled a giggle, opening the door to the balcony. “He’s very sleepy, Poutine. It’s not good manners to wake up your guests.”

“Even when they fall asleep on your couch and steal all your blankets?” Anthony said sleepily from behind. 

Astride wheeled around, greeted by a half-awake Anthony Beauvillier, who was indeed bundled in all of the blankets she owned that weren’t actively on her bed. “Tito! Oh my God, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, about as well as can be expected.” He tapped his phone, cursing when he realized it was dead. “Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced down at her watch. “8:52, why?”

Anthony jumped up, throwing his shirt back on and grabbing his still-dead phone. “I’m supposed to meet Mat for breakfast at 9:30, and the place is,” he paused for a moment, running through the grid system in his head, “probably half an hour away? I’m never the late one, can’t break that streak now.” 

“Gotcha.”

He grabbed his keys, looking back at her. “Why don’t you come? You’re already dressed, and you remember Mat, right?”

She wiggled her hand. “Kind of?” She crossed the room, letting Poutine back in. “You only want me for my charged phone and navigation system.”

“You got me,” he said, laughing. 

---

“You named your dog Poutine?” Mat snickered, taking a bite of his eggs. 

“Would you rather I named him Tim Horton?” Astride deadpanned. “He’s a good Canadian boy with a good Canadian mom. He needed a good Canadian name.” 

Mat raised his coffee mug, tilting it over towards her. “Touché.”

Anthony waved his hand in front of Mat’s face, trying to catch his attention from where he was utterly preoccupied with destroying his sourdough toast. “Hey, Mat.”

“Mmm?” He glanced up. 

“Did you know that Astride lives right by Barclays? Like, right by Barclays?” 

His eyebrows rose. “No way?” Astride nodded. “That’s a great area, would have been awesome if you were here a couple of years ago. Short walk to the games.”

“That’s what I told her yesterday,” Tito responded. 

---

“You’re kidding,” Anthony said, looking up at her building, then across the street to Barclays, then back to Astride, one hand tangling through his hair. “We used to play right across from here.” 

Astride laughed. “I thought about that,” she said. “You know I still watched your games, right? Even after we fell out of touch?” Anthony shook his head. “You were still someone I cared about, are still someone I care about, even when we only talked a few times a year.” 

Beau stood there, unable to formulate a complete sentence. As far as he knew, the last Islanders game she watched had been the 2016 opener, his NHL debut and her first year at McGill. Why did he assume that? Why did he assume the worst? You can care about people even when they’re not in your life anymore. And sometimes, if you get really, really lucky, they come back. 

October 9 (sat) 

“Ebs is having a barbeque thing over at his house this weekend, just stuff to celebrate the beginning of the season if you wanted to come. No pressure if you’ve got plans already, though,” Anthony said over the FaceTime. 

Astride nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great, I’d love to come! Just let me know when to show up and what to bring, and I’ll be there.”

 It was almost a fifty-minute drive for Astride from her apartment in Prospect Heights to the house in Garden City, but there wasn’t too much traffic and besides, she had always liked driving. So she set off in her Civic, plugged her music in, and headed down 495. Anthony met her outside of the house, greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as he cocked his head towards the backyard. “Party’s this way. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” 

Astride dutifully followed, trying not to let her nerves take hold of her. Everyone might have already been Beau’s friends, but she didn’t know them, or the dynamic of everyone’s relationships, or really, what to expect at all. 

He noticed her apprehension, stopping her with a feather-light touch on her arm just before walking through the back gate. “Hey, Asty. What is it?” 

She let out a little huff, still upset that he could read her like a book even after all this time. “I’m just worried that I’ll feel like I’m intruding on everything, like everyone already has their friends and a group and everything, and here comes some random Québécoise who’s a friend of Tito’s—” 

He laughed, turning her around to face him. “Astride, they’re going to love you. As long as you’re the hilarious, witty, caring person I know you are, they’re going to love you as much as I do, and you’re going to fit in just fine. Do you trust me?” 

She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.” 

He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good, now come back, everyone’s waiting.” 

They walked through the gate, greeted by a crowd of smiling faces as Anthony brought her around to everyone to make their rounds. There was Anders, he was the captain, and his wife. There was Jordan and Lauren, and she already knew Mat, and JGP — who was excited to have another person to speak French to — and a dozen or so others, along with their respective partners and children. Anthony had gone over to talk to Mat and some of the other players, while Astride had wandered over to the drinks table. Some of the other women were chatting nearby; one of them caught Astride’s eye and waved her over to join them. 

“Beau didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone!” one of the women said, pulling her over to the group with a bright smile and handing her a glass of sangria. 

“Mhm,” she replied, taking a sip of the drink. “I’m new to the city, obviously, so I think he wanted me to have some people I know outside of just work.” 

They all nodded. “How long have you two been together, though?” another asked. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, did you?” She looked around at the others, who shook their heads as Astride’s eyes bulged. 

“Together? No, no, we’re not together. We’ve been best friends for ages, but,” she shook her head. 

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren said with the smallest of winks. 

Astride suddenly became very interested in the floating berries in her sangria. She looked over at Anthony, who was throwing his head back, laughing at something one of the rookies had said, and smiled. But Lauren’s words kept lingering in the back of her mind. Could have fooled me. Okay, it wasn’t like it was the first time they had been mistaken for a couple; whenever she’d make the trip up to Shawingan to visit him when he was in the QMJHL, more than once she’d have to explain to his teammates that no, she wasn’t Beau’s girlfriend, they were just best friends who had known each other forever. Just best friends. 

Astride had always equated her lingering feelings for Anthony to the nostalgia of a childhood crush, the safety and security that came with remembering something from a time that seemed so simple and so easy. But childhood crushes didn’t last for ten years. And that wasn’t something she hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, something she’d been putting off for years if she was being honest with herself. 

“You didn’t tell me Astride was coming,” Mat commented, seeing her mid-laugh in conversation with the other girls. 

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t have any plans for the weekend and I thought it would be nice to introduce her to everyone. I remember how shitty it felt to be in a new city away from your family, don’t want her to be lonely. Plus, I genuinely think she’ll fit in great with everyone.” 

Mat hummed his agreement. “She’s changed since Switzerland, don’t you think?” he asked appreciatively, referring to over five years ago, the last time he had seen her in person.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beau mumbled to Mat, seeing his eyebrows go so far up they were hidden in his hairline. 

“I see a hot girl, I appreciate a hot girl,” Mat shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know she’s off-limits.” 

The rest of the afternoon passed quicker than she would have thought, and after a few hours and more good conversations, it was time for Astride to leave. “Have a safe drive back,” Anthony said, giving her a hug. 

“I will,” she responded. 

He opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m really glad you came, you know. Everyone liked you, you fit in great.” 

“It wasn’t all me,” she said, sliding into the seat, turning her head to Anthony to continue the conversation. “Everyone really did seem to go out of their way to make me feel included, I think they understood the feeling of moving to a whole new place without a big support system and wanted to do what they could to help mitigate that for me.” Astride consciously left out Lauren’s little comment, four words that had been bouncing around in her head for hours since they had been said. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t need him to know, it could confuse him and complicate things when they were just getting back into the rhythm of friendship, of being each other’s person. 

Anthony tapped his fingers on the car door. “I’m glad.” 

“Me too.”

Beau went to sleep that night, Mat’s words bouncing around in his head. “I know she’s off-limits.” It’s not like Cass was his sister or something, someone who would inherently be barred from his best friend’s dating pool. But Mat seemed to know right away, without having ever been told, that she wasn’t someone he could ever even consider pursuing. Why? And what did Mat seem to know that he didn’t?

November 12 (fri)

It was early November, and Anthony and Astride had just settled down at a table in Prospect Park, coffee cups warming their hands through the late fall chill. “How do you feel about last night?” Astride asked teasingly. He had a three point game, two goals and an assist in a 4-1 win over the Canes, so there really wasn’t any question that he was still riding on the high. 

Beau rolled his eyes. “Good, obviously. It would have been nice to get a hat trick, but I know that’s asking for a lot and I didn’t want to tempt fate too much. They made a really good push late in the second.”

“But you won,” she said, poking his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her mocha. 

“But we won,” he agreed. He suddenly got quiet, the kind of quiet where, if you know the person well enough, you can tell that something’s up. That they’re thinking of something. And Astride was right. “Do you ever think about Switzerland?” he asked. 

Astride looked at him from the side, knowing right away that he wasn’t asking about the country. “All the time,” she admitted. 

---

It was the spring of 2015, and they were in Lucerne. By they, Astride meant her, Tito, and the rest of the 2015 Canadian U18 World Cup team. And by in Lucerne, she meant crowded into someone’s hotel room with no adult supervision. Anthony wasn’t sure where any of the coaching staff had gone, but if he was being honest, he was riding on way too big of a high to even care. They had clinched the bronze medal earlier that day, celebrating with the family and friends who had made the trip out, gotten dinner, and then packed into the first team room they came to. Well, technically, Astride, Tito, and Mat had made a stop at the grocery store before meeting everyone else back in the room. The drinking age in Switzerland was 16 for everything but spirits, and everyone was planning on taking full advantage of that. The cashier gave them a look as she took her and Anthony’s French licenses and Mat’s English one, but the charge went through just fine, and fifteen minutes later they were walking back through the doorway with three cases of beer and a few bottles of sparkling wine for good measure. Astride had never been so grateful to have her own checking account. 

“You ever drink before?” Mat asked her as they opened the cases. 

Astride shrugged. “Not really. A glass of wine every now and again back home with my parents, but nothing too crazy.” 

He held out a bottle for her, fishing around in his pocket for the bottle opener they had picked up at the store. “Have fun.” 

And have fun Astride did. She had finished off two of the beers, and one of the younger teammates — she didn’t remember who — had popped open the wine. In his slightly inebriated state, it took longer than it should have to twist off the muselet, which then led to foam all over the floor and fifteen sixteen and seventeen-year-olds running to the bathroom to grab towels to try and mop it up with. And then running back to the bathroom to get the water glasses because they needed something to drink it out of, right? And then to everyone else’s rooms because they quickly realized that two cups definitely wasn’t enough to go around, and then everyone was back in the room, on the beds and around the beds, finally letting themselves celebrate. Astride was just finishing her glass when Mat spoke. “Anyone up for never have I ever?” Nobody said otherwise, so two minutes later, they were all arranged in what could very generously be called a circle, fresh drinks in hand. After a solid five minutes of repeating the rules — there was always at least one person who seemed to genuinely struggle with the idea that you drank if you had done the thing, not if you hadn’t — they were slowly but surely making their way around the circle. 

Questions ranged from the mundane — “Never have I ever gotten detention” — to the raunchy — “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on me” — neither of which Astride or Tito drank to. 

By the time it was Mat’s turn, he had had plenty of time to think, looking around the group with a conspiratorial grin. “What is it?” Tito asked skeptically. 

He shrugged. “Never have I ever...kissed anyone in the circle.” As expected, nobody drank, but apparently that wasn’t expected, not for Mat, at least. He looked between Anthony and Astride incredulously. “Seriously? You two have never kissed?”

Anthony shook his head. “Nope.”

“How? You’ve been friends for, like, a million years, not even when you were little or anything?” he asked. 

“Never,” Astride said. “Kind of hard to kiss your best friend when you haven’t kissed anyone before.” She barely even realized that everyone was still listening in. 

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Anthony asked, surprised. 

Astride looked down at her hands, sipping her beer. “Nope.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but no. Just hasn’t happened yet.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was feelings buried so deeply in Anthony’s mind that he didn’t think would ever see the light of day, let alone have to be confronted, that made him say what he did next. “I could—if you wanted—you don’t have to, but—” he stammered.

Astride laughed, looking at him curiously. “What is it, Tito? You’re not normally one to stumble over your words like that.”

He picked at his fingernails, an old nervous tick from his childhood that his mother was never quite able to get him to break, keenly aware that the whole room had decided to listen into their conversation. “I was just trying to say...I could do it, if you want. Kiss you, I mean. If you just wanted to get it over with, or whatever. I just figured. You know me, you trust me, you’re comfortable with me. Better that than some idiot at school who doesn’t care about you.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked over at him, but even though it took her nearly a minute to respond, she had her answer after five seconds. “Why not?” Astride flashed him the purest, gentlest smile, the kind that let him know just how much she cared about him and how deeply she trusted him. And the look on her face meant the world to him. 

Anthony leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just barely touching her cheek as their foreheads leant together. “You sure about this?” He needed her to be sure. 

She nodded. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I never imagined my first kiss would be in front of an audience,” she paused to giggle at the rest of the team, who were giving the scene their full attention in a way that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable at all, just wholesome and supportive, “but yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all the permission Anthony needed to lean forward, pressing his lips against hers, in a kiss that was soft and sweet and somehow everything Astride needed all in one. He pulled back after a moment, a goofy smile on his face. “How was it?”

Astride couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Good, it was really good, Tito. Thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?”

---

“Friends are for kissing each other, apparently,” Astride giggled, leaning into Anthony on his couch. 

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Did you ever think something was going to happen between us?” Anthony asked curiously. 

Astride shrugged. “At some point, yeah. I think it was kind of hard not to, with our parents and literally everyone we spent time with saying we were destined to fall in love.” She looked down at her hands, trying not to give away the fact that at one point, she had believed them. 

November 30 (tues)

“Do you want to come over Friday?” Anthony asked, sprawled out across her couch on one of his rare nights off. He had made the drive over to Astride’s apartment, cooking salmon and roasting vegetables while she took the much more daunting task of picking what to watch on Netflix. She settled on Back to the Future. “I can order in Thai, I know we’re trying to work our way through the Mission Impossibles.” 

Astride grimaced. “I actually...kind of have a date Friday night,” she admitted. 

Anthony made a hum of surprise. “You do?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so shocked, Tito. There are men in this city of nine million who want to take me out.” 

He sputtered. “It’s not that that shocks me, Asty. You’d have men lining up around the block for you if you’d give any of them a second glance. It’s just that. You never seem to bother actually going after any of them. What made this one different?” 

“I mean, honestly hour?” Astride said, shrugging. 

“Honestly hour.” 

“I haven’t been on a date since I left Montréal, you know that. It had been a few months there too. And I’ve loved hanging out with you more, getting to know Mat and the team and everyone’s partners, but...I needed something different, too. Something that felt like a part of my life that wasn’t directly connected to the team. Which, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I love them, and it’s been so nice to be a part of that group, I just…” Astride trailed off. 

“You can’t let that be the only part of your life. I get it,” Anthony added helpfully.  

“Yeah,” Astride agreed. “So enter Cole. He works in a different division of the IE department, I’m obviously Europe and he’s Asia, mostly does work with Taiwan and Singapore. Um,” she said, her eyes turning towards the ceiling, “he seems really nice, did international business at UPenn, which is a great program. Speaks fluent Mandarin, uh, I think he mentioned he’s got a few fish at home.” 

Anthony snorted. “What’s wrong with fish?” Astride asked defensively. 

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong with fish,” he said. “Just seems like an odd choice. Maybe his building doesn’t allow pets or something.” 

“Maybe,” Astride responded. “I wouldn’t know, he lives in Manhattan, over in Tribeca. Bikes to work.” 

Tito laughed again. “I don’t trust people who bike to work in New York City, Asty. They have zero regard for their own lives or safety.” 

She giggled. “That might be true. But I’m looking forward to it, the date, I mean. I really am. It’s been a while since I’ve really put myself back out there, and I’m ready for something good. Something real.” 

He gave a half-smile from his side of the couch. “I’m happy for you, Astride. I hope you have a great time, and I hope he treats you right. If he doesn’t, just let him know that you can sic an entire professional hockey team on him with a single phone call.” 

“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s over, tell you how it went.” “

I’ll be waiting,” he said. 

Anthony thought back on the conversation as he sat on the corner of his bed that night, about to go to sleep. He turned his phone over and over in his hands, his eyes fixating on the chip in the crown molding that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. He wasn’t lying to Astride when he said he was happy for her. He was, of course he was, who wouldn’t want their best friend to be happy? But while he wanted nothing more, nothing more, than to be able to give his full-throated support for her date, and the potential the future held for her and this Cole guy, he couldn’t do it. There was something stopping him. And the worst part of it all was that Anthony was starting to realize what it was. 

---

Astride had said that their dinner reservation was at 7, some brasserie in the West Village. “That’s a French thing, right?” Cole had asked. 

“It is,” Astride responded, gearing up for her translation skills to be used for the first time in months. She spoke almost exclusively French around Tito, and with JGP and Brassard, but the majority of her day was spent in English. Cole said that the restaurant had come highly recommended from one of his Wall Street friends, something that should have been the first red flag. 

“Never trust the finance bros,” Reese, a German specialist and one of her friends at the office, had said. “They all think they’re God’s gift to mankind when I can guarantee you they ain’t shit.”  

She had said it was at 7, so Anthony wasn’t expecting to hear from her until much later; honestly, he would have been surprised if she had called before 10. He tried not to think about what it could mean if she didn’t call at all that night. She had said it was at 7, so when he heard a knock at his door at half past nine, he practically jumped out of his skin before scrambling to open the door. His eyebrows rose when he saw Astride on the other side of the door, then his face contorted into a look of sympathy as he saw the sad smile on her lips, her jacket slung over one arm. 

“Can I come in?” she asked. He nodded without question, holding the door while stepping out of the way. He padded to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of Moscato and two glasses. Astride smiled gratefully at him as he uncorked the bottle and poured. He knew that she couldn’t do red wine when she was upset, and she was upset. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively. 

Astride shrugged, sipping the wine. “Not much to tell other than it was probably the worst first date I’ve ever been on.” 

That piqued Anthony’s interest. He’d never be happy that she was upset, but something told him the story wasn’t quite that simple. “What about it was so bad?” 

“Where do I begin?” she sighed. “He was on time, but that’s pretty much the only thing Cole did right the entire night. He was rude to the waitress when we had to wait all of ten minutes until our reservation was ready, because the couple ahead had gone long. Then he ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine they had, without even asking me to see what I wanted. He really just was trying to show off that he could afford it. And it was a Sangiovese, and you know I hate dry wines, so I was just trying to choke the whole thing down. And then he insisted on ordering for me, which is probably the most chauvinistic thing I could think of, I mean, who does that anymore?” she asked incredulously. 

Tito shrugged. It was disrespectful, absolutely, but more than that, it was just weird. If women have mouths that work, then they’re more than capable of doing something as simple as ordering their own food. 

“And he kept trying to pour me more wine after the first glass, even when I told him a million times I was good.” Anthony’s grip on his glass tightened. Astride rubbed her temples with her free hand. “He just kept going on and on about work, and this big promotion he’s insisting he’s going to get even though I know for a fact that they want Maria for it. I could barely get a word in edgewise. That’s when I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I faked that Jean-Claude was calling, grabbed my jacket, and caught a cab over here.” She looked up at him, the same disappointed expression she had worn when he opened the door. “I was really hoping this one would pan out, Tito.” 

He felt an ache in his heart. He may have been less than thrilled about the prospect of Astride going out on a date, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see her so despondent. He leaned over, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose. “I know, Asty. And I’m sorry it didn’t.”

December 13 (mon)

Anthony and Mat were the last ones in the locker room after a morning practice. “I found this new place nearby last week that’s got great smoothie bowls, want to get one after you finish packing your stuff?” Anthony asked, looking over at Mat. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Sounds good,” Mat nodded, half-listening. 

Anthony glanced over at him, a weird look on his face. “You good, dude? You sound distracted.”

Mat spoke abruptly, looking over at Tito with a laser-focused expression. “How long have you been in love with Astride?” 

Anthony’s eyebrows jumped a foot. “In love with Astride? Why would you think that?”

Mat gave him a look, the kind of look that let Anthony know he was dead serious about what he was saying, and more than that, that he believed it. “Tito, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s that obvious?” 

“Yep,” Mat said, popping the p. 

“Do you think she knows?” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper. 

“I don’t know,” Mat said, shrugging. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to really be able to know about something as big as that and not address it. Doesn’t like to keep things bottled up, it’s not really her style.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s not.” He raked one hand through his haid, his head still leaning on the other one. “God. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with her?”

Mat put one hand on Beau’s back, comforting him as best he could. “I don’t know, Tito. I wish I could help. What I do know,” he said, “is that you’re going to have to eventually. Because it’s going to tear you up if you don’t.”

December 18 (sat)

Astride tossed one final empty can into the garbage bag. “I think that’s it,” she said, giving his living room a cursory look. What had looked like a warzone only less than an hour before now more closely resembled the somewhat-messy but perfectly respectable bachelor pad of a man in his 20s, like it should have. With the holidays approaching, Anthony had decided to take it into his own hands to host a party — alongside Astride, who he had practically begged for help — intent on showcasing his newly-acquired skills by playing bartender the whole night. He was surprisingly capable, Astride had thought, if her Sazerac was anything to go by. 

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Asty. And thanks for staying and helping clean everything up, you really didn’t have to.” 

She tied the bag off and set it by the door with the other one. “I wanted to. And besides, I’m staying over,” she said, looking over at Anthony, “so what did you think I was going to do? Lock myself in the guest room while you cleaned up the whole apartment by yourself? What kind of a woman do you take me for?” she asked in mock offense. 

Anthony laughed, sitting down on the couch with a satisfying thump, pulling Astride into his side when she settled next to him. 

“I’m so glad we got back in contact,” she said, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so glad we’re friends again.” 

He felt guilty; more than that, he knew that the guilt, at least some of it, was deserved. “I should have done more,” he lamented. “I should have done more to keep in contact, more to show you I cared, more so you’d know that your friendship is one of the things I value most in my life.” 

Astride gave a small smile. “It’s a two-way street, Tito. Sure, I won’t lie and say that you really put all that much effort into keeping in contact. You didn’t.” He winced, she shot him a sympathetic look. “I love you, but you know me. I don’t mince my words. But I definitely could have done more than text you congratulations or leave a thirty-second voicemail on your birthday. We both could have done more. We both should have done more,” she said, correcting herself. “What do you think happened, though? Where did we go wrong?” As much as she might have hated it, Astride was that kind of person. She went through every bad decision in her life with a fine-toothed comb, needing to know what went wrong, needing to know what she could have done differently. 

“I think,” he began, “that it was just so easy to get distracted from ‘back home’ things. From our friendship, from my relationships with my family. From the important things, the things that I should have made an effort to prioritize even when the season got hectic and games got hard. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, “but there was just something about where I was, physically and mentally. I was 19, a rookie in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I think I just lost sight of things. Between the practices and games and going out and community events and trying to get in more than five hours of sleep a night, it was a lot,” he admitted. “It was stressful, probably weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m well aware I was — and am — living a life thousands of kids would kill for, but there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t really understand unless you’ve been through it. I don’t have many regrets from my rookie season, or really many in my career so far. Don’t regret moving for minors, don’t regret going to the Isles, don’t regret any of the contracts I’ve signed or plays I’ve made. Well,” he smirked, “maybe a few. But the one big one? The only real regret I’ve had? Letting you go.” 

Astride swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. “What do you mean, letting me go?”

Anthony let out a hard sigh. He’d put it off for long enough. He couldn’t do it any longer. “Never telling you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her fingers tangling in the fringe of the fleece blanket that was slung over the couch cushions. 

“Like I love you so much my heart could burst.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How long have you known?”

He looked at her with a soft smile. “Ever since Switzerland.”

“Six years?”

“Six years.” He reached out slowly, so slowly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear when she didn’t move back. They sat in silence for a moment, and when Anthony spoke again, his voice wavered. “Asty? Say something.”

Astride’s lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I knew since I was 15.”

His face split into a grin, wider and wider until she was sure she’d never seen a bigger smile. “You did? You do?”

She nodded, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering butterfly-fast underneath her fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was, Tito.”

He pushed forward, pressing his lips against hers for the first time since 2015, the first time since Switzerland. It was gentle and meaningful and somehow communicated all of the love and emotion that had been built up between the two of them in the past six years. Anthony pulled back after a minute, his lips pink and slightly puffy. “Tell me where your head’s at, Astride.”

“Is it too cliché to just say that this might be the happiest I’ve been in years?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.” But there was something that she wasn’t quite letting go of. “What is it, Astride?”

Astride sniffed. “I want this. You and I, I want it so mad it hurts. I just hate the idea that we’d turn into some sort of cliché. Childhood friends who grow up and fall in love, but something goes wrong and they split up and suddenly the dynamic of everything is messed up and I don’t want that, Tito. I don’t know if I could deal with you hating me because of how things ended.” 

“But things don’t have to end, Asty. Every broken heart, every date where some asshole has stood you up has led you to know that you deserve more. You deserve so much more, Astride, you deserve the sun and the moon and someone who would hang them in the sky for you. It doesn’t have to end in heartbreak. It doesn’t have to end at all.” 

Astride had always been someone who was cautious, someone who thought before she acted and never spoke without thinking through every possible outcome. But this was one of the times that she couldn’t do that, one of the times when, as much as she may have hated it, she needed to take a leap of faith. And so she did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his voice lifting. 

She nodded, the happiness on her face unmistakable. “Okay.”

And as Astride and Anthony FaceTimed her parents to break the news, her mom slapping her dad’s shoulder, claiming that she had “called it” back in 2014, Astride was filled with a sense of undeniable, irreplaceable joy. The kind of joy that the poets write about and artists put brush to canvas trying to depict, the kind that most people go their whole lives only hoping to get a glimpse of. The kind that made Astride more certain of one thing than she had perhaps been in her entire life. It didn’t have to end in heartbreak. And this one didn’t have to end at all. 

And as they stood two years later in a little church in their hometown, promising in front of their family and friends and the entire New York Islanders to love each other for the rest of their lives, Astride finally believed it.

#anthony beauvillier #hockey smut #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #new york islanders

[skieswords]

Pull Through Part 5

Please make sure you read the warnings in part 1❤️

"Fuck. Wake up boys, we're late." Becca's eyes fluttered open at the sound of Alex's voice, and the first thing she noticed was the warm chest her cheek was resting on, and the hand pressed against the small of her back. Luke groaned, and opened his eyes, looking down to see a mess of curls lying on top of him, and feeling Becca's t-shirt in his hand. She was on top of him, her blue eyes looking up at him in surprise. "Uh, morning." Luke grinned as Becca buried her face in his chest again, groaning into his t-shirt. They looked to their left and found Reggie staring at them, his hair sticking up in all directions. "Did you 

two...?" He pointed between them, eyes wide. Becca's jaw dropped in horror, and she jumped off Luke, accidentally kneeing him in the stomach. He groaned and buried his face in a cushion, hiding the furious blush spreading up his neck, while Becca smiled apologetically and ran a hand through her hair. "No, we didn't. Gross." Alex came in, car keys in hand, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. "Morning Bex. Luke, a word?" He shot a glare at Luke, who was now sat up on the sofa, rubbing his temples gently. He held his hands up towards Alex, and shuffled through to the bathroom, pulling his shoes on as he hopped. "Bex. Car. Now." Alex was pissed, and Becca sighed as she laced her converse, looking over her outfit. "I need to get changed. I have clothes in the l-" She was interrupted by Reggie dropping a bag on the floor from the loft, a collection of Becca's clothes from over the years. "Loft. Thanks Reg." She knelt down and started raking through the clothes, blinking desperately to keep herself awake. A few moments later, she'd yanked an old band t-shirt over her head, and tossed her curls into a messy ponytail, and was now trying to pull her shorts down in the mirror, groaning when they didn't budge. "I'm going to get dress-coded. Alex can I just skip?" Alex laughed from behind her and tugged her ponytail gently, crossing his arms as he leant against the wall. "Mom and dad are already going to kill me for having you out all night, the least I can do is force you to go to school." She stuck her tongue out at him, and gave up, hoping the tights would be enough the satisfy Ms Carlisle. The bathroom door opened, and Luke emerged looking slightly more awake than he had when they first woke up. He made eye contact with Becca and cleared his throat, glancing at Alex as she blushed and ran into the bathroom. "Seriously dude? The literal minute she turns 16 and you're after her." Luke shook his head and snorted. "Not a chance. You know how we see her. Little sister, all the way." He looked into Alex eyes, hoping his best friend bought it. They'd known since they were 12, Becca was totally off limits to the boys. Something about not wanting his little sister mixed up with rockstars- although he had a feeling that wasn't the actual reason. Becca listened to their exchange through the bathroom door, sadness clouding her eyes. She'd hoped that after last night, with Luke telling her all that stuff about being on stage, that they might have grown closer. She'd fancied the boy since she was 13- and over the last year, having shared a lot of laughs during rehearsals, she'd developed a full blown crush. But he clearly didn't feel the same.

"Bex! Where were you last night? I tried calling but your mom picked up, said you were studying..." Becca nodded slowly, realising that must have been the lie Alex spun to her parents. "Yeah, I had a ton of math work to catch up on." This was feasible. The entire class knew about Becca's turbulent relationship with the math department. Ray nodded and leaned up against the locker next to hers, taking in her appearance. "You're gonna get in so much trouble for that- Ms C is in an evil mood." Becca groaned and slammed her head against her locker door, shoving a textbook into her bag as she turned to face Ray. "I'll just avoid her. It'll be fine." He grinned and reached into his bag, holding out a messily wrapped box. "Happy birthday." She couldn't help but smile back at him, rolling her eyes and reaching out to take the box. "Thank you. You shouldn't have though, I told you I don't like my birthday." He shrugged and watched with eager eyes as she tore off the paper, opening her locker to throw it in as it fell. "No you didn't. Ray!" She threw her arms around his neck, the box pressed between them. "I noticed your wheels were looking kinda wonky the other day, so. Here you go. Can you come tonight? I'll put them on for you." Becca smiled at him and tucked a curl behind her ear. "Yeah, yeah I think so. Thank you, Ray." He'd gotten her a set of new wheels for her skateboard, which she desperately needed. A blowout with her dad a few weeks back had resulted in him tossing her board out the 3rd floor window, and had sent the front wheel off to the left, and she hadn't been able to fix it. Ray was a genius with boards, and had the most gorgeous hand painted designs. She slipped the wheels carefully into her bag and linked arms with him, letting him walk her to english. Luke watched the entire display from across the hall, his hand resting on the small box in his locker. It was stupid, just a little gift- but he thought she'd like it. It could wait, he decided, and he pushed his locker door shut a little too harshly, causing a loud clatter to echo through the hall. He swung his guitar case over his shoulder and headed for the music rooms, passing off on the AP english class he had with Becca. He couldn't watch her with that guy any longer.

The end of the day took it's time, but as soon as the bell went, Becca was out of her class and in her locker, desperate to get home. "Hey Mercer, you looked good last night." Becca looked up, surprised to find Will Thomas, star quarterback, smirking down at her. "Oh, hey Will. Thanks, I didn't know you were there?" He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. It was similar to the move Luke frequently pulled, but Becca didn't find the action as endearing when Will did it. "Uh, I should get going." She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her wrist, holding her back. "I'm having a party this weekend. You should come." Becca looked at him in shock, her eyes wide, flicking down to the tight grip he held on her. "Oh, really? I'll see what I'm doing." He nodded at her, letting his eyes rake over her body unapologetically as she walked away, her right hand rubbing the wrist he'd held. Luke watched the interaction, once again from across the hall. Having lockers opposite each other wasn't the ideal situation he had originally imagined it to be. Slamming his locker door shut again, he followed her out the doors, face thunderous and hands thrust deep in his pockets. Becca was already at the car, complaining about something to Alex. "Why can't you just drop me off on the way home? I'll get food later." Alex rolled his eyes and gave her a push into the car, opening the trunk for Luke's guitar. "It's your birthday, mom and dad want to see you." Becca huffed and crossed her arms around her knees. She brightened slightly as Luke approached the car, but sank into her seat when she noticed his expression. Apparently everyone was having a bad day today. "What's up with your face?" Luke shrugged and leaned against the side of the car, avoiding having to sit next to Becca, instead waiting for Reggie to come out. "Teachers on my ass about work, that's all." Becca frowned; Luke never did work, and never cared when he was chased up for it. "What we doing this weekend? We don't have anything booked, do we?" Alex shook his head, dumping his jacket in the back and sighing as the californian sun once again defied all odds, and appeared just as they were hitting December. "Nothing booked, think we were just going to hang out at the studio." Luke nodded, risking a glance towards Becca, who appeared to be examining her ripped tights in great detail. Luke frowned as he noticed the large tear in the material- they'd been fine that morning. Reggie arrived at the car, grumbling about his government teacher, who'd told him he'd have to drop if he didn't buck up. "At least you actually go to class. Luke skipped english this morning." At the mention of his name, Luke's head snapped up, his eyes slightly brighter. She'd noticed his absence. "Where'd you go?" Luke shrugged and pushed the seat back as Reggie clambered in, dropping into the front seat. "Didn't feel like class." Becca rolled her eyes and leaned over Alex's seat, activating her most pleading puppy dog eyes, and resting her chin on his shoulder. "How come he gets to skip class? He's behind already, and I'm acing english." Alex chuckled and shoved her back into her seat. "Luke's older than you, and exactly. You're acing it because you go." Becca scowled and leaned on Reggie, reading the various scribbles running up his arms. Looked like he had a lot of homework. "How do you guys fancy a party this weekend? Heard Thomas is having one." Becca looked up as Luke began to speak, her eyebrows raised in surprise. Reggie frowned. "I thought you hated him? Said something about him being a-" Luke glared at Reggie in the mirror, sticking his lower lip out in such a childish way that Becca couldn't help her grin. "It's something to do. Bex got invited." Becca leaned over and punched him in the arm, scowling and glancing at Alex nervously. "Yeah as if she's going. You know what he's like." Becca groaned from the back seat and kicked Alex's chair, making him jump. "I can do what I want." All three of the boys laughed at the same time, and Alex started to drive off. Becca slumped in her seat and stared out the window. Sometimes having 3 older brothers wasn't ideal.

"Happy birthday darling!" Becca blinked in the sudden brightness as she walked into the kitchen, and found her mom standing beside the kitchen table, beside a birthday cake and a bunch of balloons. "Thanks mom." Julia smiled and pulled Becca into a hug, kissing her head and squeezing her tightly. "I have a shift later on tonight, but I thought we could have dinner together? And then Alex will take you over to Reggie's to study, but I want you to come home tonight, please." Becca nodded absentmindedly, sticking a finger into the icing on her cake. It was vanilla. "Is dad coming home?" Julia shook her head with a smile, and Becca noticed that her shoulders seemed more relaxed, and her hair hung around her face, a rare sight for the usually up tight Julia Mercer. "I got you something. It's on your bed." Becca grinned and hugged her mom one more time, before running out and up the stairs, nearly knocking Alex over in the process. "Woah, what's got you in such a rush?" Becca shrugged and kept running, barging through her door and squealing delightedly. Alex came racing in behind her, afraid that she'd gotten hurt. Becca was unwrapping a small parcel on her bed, not caring about the muddy soles of her converse. "No way." She held up a shoebox, laughing lightly to herself. "Vans? I'm trying to work out if this is some type of sick joke, or if she just asked around to see what kind of shoes skaters wear. Do you think this means she'll let me go?" Alex shrugged and smiled at the expression his little sister wore. She knew she'd have to wear them, so she wouldn't hurt their mom's feelings. But she also knew wearing them to the studio would mean getting ridiculed by Luke. "Fuck it. Are you eating with us?" Alex sighed and gave her a gentle smack round the back of the head, kneeling down to tie her laces. "Depends." Becca fell silent, and he felt her eyes on him. "He's not coming." Alex looked up and met her eyes, watching the grin slowly spread across her face. "Then of course I am. I'm not missing out on birthday cake." She cheered and jumped off the bed, waiting for him to stand up before throwing herself at his back and wrapping her legs around his waist. He hooked his arms through her knees and started to carry her down the stairs, stopping on the landing. "Not a word about last night. I want to speak to you about it in the car anyway, so keep your mouth zipped." Becca nodded and rested her chin on his shoulder. This was shaping up to be her favourite birthday yet. Cake, her mom, and her brother, with the promise of a trip to the skate park and a visit to the boys as well. Not to mention she got to wake up on top of Luke Patterson. Not that that's important or meant anything to her in the slightest, she reminded herself.

Skateboard in hand and new vans on, Becca headed out to Alex's car, happier than she'd felt in weeks. Even though he'd said no to the skatepark, Alex had said she could take her board and practice tricks in Reggie's backyard, as long as she was careful and didn't damage any plantpots. "So. About last night." Becca fidgeted in her seat, not sure where this was going. Was it about the performance? Or the drugs? Or Luke? It could be any number of things, none of them particularly high on her list of preffered car conversation topics. "When were you gonna tell me you could play like that?" Becca let out a sigh of relief. Definitely the least dangerous topic. "Uh, I didn't really know I could play like that myself, to be fair." Alex raised his eyebrows at her, and pulled out of the driveway. "I taught myself a little, and I spoke to some of the music teachers at school- they helped. But I dunno, I just really enjoyed it. Luke worked out I could play by himself, he found some stuff I'd written and forced me to tell him." Alex pursed his lips, and his eyes hardened. "Mmm. That's another thing. Luke." Becca groaned internally- she'd hoped to avoid this one. "What do you mean?" Alex shot her a look of pure disbelief, and she threw her head back against the seat. "Nothing, Alex. I promise. We came in late from the garden last night, and he was gonna sleep on the floor. I felt mean so told him to share the couch." Alex looked at her intently as they reached a red light, before shrugging and continuing the drive in silence. Becca watched out the window as the houses flew by, sighing wistfully as they passed the turnoff for the skatepark.

Luke watched as Reggie nearly fell over the railing in the loft for the fourth time, rolling his eyes and collapsing onto the couch. Alex had said they'd be there around 7, and had warned they better be ready or he'd be pissed. Luke jumped up as he heard a car pull into the driveway, sharing a look with Reggie, who was still sitting on the banister. The familiar roll of Becca's skateboard could be heard on the crazy paving , alongside the jingling of Alex's car keys, and then a scuffle and a screech, as Becca tripped. Eventually, the Mercer siblings appeared at the door, Becca's skateboard tucked under her arm, and Alex trying his hardest to suppress a grin. "Oh my god. Guys!" Becca's hands flew to her mouth as she took in the garage. The boys had spent the last few hours stringing fairy lights across the ceiling, and a painted banner hung across the rafters reading 'Happy Birthday Bex!' in Reggie's handwriting, thankfully. Reggie pulled her into a hug and ruffled her hair. "It's the least we could do." Alex pushed her into the studio, and towards the coffee table, where a messily iced cake sat, chocolate frosting layered thickly over the entire cake. Becca smiled to herself, a warm feeling spreading across her chest as it hit her that the boys remembered her favourite. "Did you make this?" She glanced at Luke suspiciously, who held his hands up and rolled his eyes at her. "Reggie's mom made it- but I iced it." She grinned and pulled him into a hug, letting her head rest on his chest as she breathed in his musky scent of cheap aftershave, and something distinctly boyish. "It's awesome. Thank you." Luke wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, resisting the urge to stroke her hair. They stayed like that for a moment longer than was strictly necessary, until a look from Alex caught Luke's attention, and he jumped away, clearing his throat. "Where's Bobby?" Reggie shrugged and flopped onto the couch, watching Luke with a slight grin. The dark haired guitarist was walking around the back of the studio, scuffing the toes of his vans against the floor, as he watched Becca out the corner of his eye. The tension between them could literally be cut with a knife, but they still chose to ignore it. Even Alex had commented on it before, much to his own disgust. The idea of his baby sister dating anybody genuinely terrified him- and he knew what a flirt Luke could be. But as the drummer and bassist of Sunset Curve watched the two from opposite corners of the room, the only thought going through their minds was 'how long now.' The pair had been dancing around each other for years now. Luke had even taken Becca to her freshman, and her sophomore homecoming, with it now being an ongoing joke between them. Becca couldn't dance in the slightest. In fact, at both dances, they'd had to take a break so that Luke could ice his foot. He'd asked her by coincidence in freshman year because she'd been crying in the hallway after school, after a group of sophomores had teased her for going alone. By sophomore year, him and Alex were good friends, and they decided to do it as a joke. Junior homecoming was coming up, and he wasn't sure whether to ask her or not. He wanted to, but now that they were both aware there was something more there... it might be weird. Not to mention Alex would insist on being there with them. "We're not exactly speaking to him right now." Becca nodded at Alex's words, and let a hand drift up to stroke the edge of the banner strung up in the rafters.

"I got you something." Becca looked up, pleasantly surprised to see Luke's eyes boring into her own, a hint of worry floating in them. She smiled at him and tilted her head to the side slightly, swaying from left to right gently. "You shouldn't have. Thank you, though." Luke nodded and reached into his jacket pocket, handing over a small box wrapped in brown paper. "Meant to say earlier, nice kicks." He bumped the the worn toe of his vans against the fresh white of hers, smiling as she took the box from him with a brief eye roll. Becca felt her cheeks warming up as she stroked her thumb over her name, scrawled on top of the package in barely legible handwriting. She met his eyes again, and after an encouraging nod from Luke, tore the paper, and opened the box. She stared at the gift in silence, silently grateful that he couldn't see her expression. A guitar string lay coiled inside, resting on tissue paper. It had been cut, just about the right size to fit around her wrist. There was a charm hanging off it, three silver icons that made Becca's breath catch in her throat. A minature electric guitar, a pair of drumsticks, and a bass guitar. Her boys. A slight cough from Luke made her glance up at him, to find his cheeks on fire, and his lip in between his teeth. "It's not much- I saw the charms and thought of you, and I restrung my six string last week so I thought it would be cool, I get it if you don't wanna wear it of course, it's stupid-" He was cut off by Becca's arms being thrown around his neck, catching her in surprise and holding her tightly, feeling a smile spread across his face. "I love it, Luke. Thank you." They stepped apart, and Becca handed him the bracelet, holding out her wrist. "Can you?" He nodded and fiddled with the clasp, clipping it around her wrist. It fit perfectly. He didn't let go of her wrist, his thumb stroking over her hand as he admired the bracelet. It was pretty neat, if he said so himself. Alex watched their interaction from his spot on the couch, groaning internally. He knew it would only be so long until the two of them got over themselves, and the thought terrified him. He didn't want Becca getting hurt, and he knew Luke had a bit of a reputation. It was clear they liked each other- to everyone apart from them, apparently. Luke's attempt to lie to him that morning had been quite pathetic, even for him.

Bobby showed up not long after Becca and Alex had arrived, but he avoided giving her a hug, after multiple glares from Luke, who hadn't left her side all evening. The boys were rather cold towards him- they weren't happy he'd bailed on them for the gig. "Did you get on alright without me though? It didn't make a huge difference to the set, did it?" None of the boys got the chance to answer- Becca snorted loudly, and clapped her hands. "Ha, no of course not. They had me instead." Bobby raised his eyebrows, and looked her up and down appreciatively. "Woah, so you play too? Nothing like a girl who's good with her hands." He winked at her, and she gagged, while Alex punched his arm, and Luke clenched his fists. "In your dreams, Robert." Reggie grinned at Becca and fist-bumped her, handing her another cup of juice. Luke sighed and settled back onto his couch, trying to ignore the voice in the back of his head, telling him to floor Bobby. That wouldn't be the best way to end Becca's birthday. They sat there for a while longer, enjoying each other's company, until Alex looked at the clock and swore quietly. "It's getting late Bex, we should head soon." Becca glanced at the clock and frowned. It was only just after 8pm. She met Alex's eyes, but the slight frown on his face explained everything. "Right. Let's go."

#jatpsmut #jatpluke #jatpimagine #jatpcast #jatpimagines #julieandthephantomssmut #julieandthephantoms #julie and the himbos #julieandthephantomscast #luke patterson imagine #lukepattersonsmut #lukepatterson #luke patterson smut #luke patterson x reader #jatp

[burnedbyshoto]

Weak

anonymous asked: can we get a bakugou fluff based on the song hug all ur friends by cavetwon

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warning: bakugou has high anxiety, cussing, fluff

word count: 4,000

a/n: so I listened to the 1 hour loop to this song when writing it LMAO, I think its one of my better pieces ive written, but I guess that’s also for you to decide!!!!!! enjoy!!!!

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Bakugou Katsuki was someone who had no guilt in admitting that he cared about himself first and foremost. Bakugou Katsuki never imagined a day would come where he would find himself interested in someone-- especially in a romantic setting.

Romance and Bakugou, to him it seemed like mixing oil and water. Impractical and impossible.

Bakugou was hard, rough, and explosive.

Romance was soft, tender, and weakening.

So for the life of him, Bakugou could not understand why on god you were consuming his thoughts. Why did you have him wrapped around your fingers despite you only being his best friend? What the hell was wrong with him?!

Bakugou stared at you from the distance, his eyes were warm, his face soft, and the book in his hands long forgotten.

You were a force, this overwhelming energy that he could not figure out.

You weren’t like Kirishima who gained his friendship through mutual respect and trust in each other’s strengths. You weren’t like Sero or Mina who he came to see as friends after he used them for their quirks two years ago. You weren’t like Kaminari who he saw as a friend because Kirishima came as this unknown package deal.

You were soft, tender, and in no way were you weak, but Bakugou couldn’t think of any other word to describe you but weak.

It made no sense as to how you two became friends. The two of you had spoken once! Then you landed a punch on his jaw so strong that he needed to go to Recovery Girl and you cried for hours afterward. Bakugou thought it was dumb that you were apologizing so he yelled at you for being stupid. Seconds later you two were friends.

“Bakasuki, it’s way past your bedtime!” You screamed as you looked up from your phone. Your eyes red with tiredness and irritation still shone as you made eye contact. The impressed grin on your face as strong as if it was midday. “It’s midnight?!”

Bakugou felt his face cement over again. It was an involuntary action as you rambled off about how the big softie Bakugou Katsuki was awake at 'crackhead' hours. As you got up and walked over to Bakugou, he felt his hardened features melt as you took a stance in front of him.

“I bet you’re staying up because of me, come on, admit that you like me.”

Your words are teasing of course, yet Bakugou’s heart clenches at the truth of your words. Bakugou one year ago had begun staying awake past nine because of you. You were always active at night! You told new stories that Bakugou wanted to hear at a late hour, and Bakugou soon found himself staying up.

Ten at night turned to eleven, eleven became twelve, and then Bakugou was up until two in the morning because of you. He never complained about it, and he never dared to tell you or anyone about it. Bakugou took every teasing you gave, and you teased him about him staying up every night even if it was a year later.

“Trust me, if I was staying up because of you I would fucking hate myself,” Bakugou lies as you laugh. “Don’t think you’re fucking special because I tolerate you.”

His words were harsh to the average ear, but to the trained ear, to your ear, it was as if he nudged you playfully.

“Sure you old grump,” you wink as you stick out your hand. “Iida said it’s my turn with the Disney+, wanna go watch with me?” 

“As long as you don’t make me watch something fucking horrible,” Bakugou grunts as he takes your hand.

He would watch the sappiest of movies and the weirdest of shows if it meant that you’d snuggle into his side. His favorite memories have you at his left. These memories also included you between his legs as you laughed hysterically at the horrible and childish jokes. It also didn’t matter how many times you watched the same movie, you always ramble as if it was your first time viewing it.

“I’m thinking Lilo and Stitch,” you let him into your thoughts as you begin walking towards the staircase. His hand is still locked with yours. “I think I can be Lilo, and you can be Stitch! You two have very similar personalities!”

“Like hell I’m anything like that fucking animal!”

“I didn’t even need to goad you into a reaction!”

“Shut up dumbass…”

“If I ever stopped talking to you, you would go insane! So careful what you wish for!”

“I wish you would shut up…”

Bakugou watched as your lips pressed flat together. A faux annoyed expression on your face and you dropped his hand.

It may have embarrassed Bakugou to admit what he did next, but it took him five seconds to crack under your cold shoulder. He threw you over his shoulder as he walked to your room. Your squealing exclamations were loud as he held your lower thigh.

“See I told you--”

“Shut the fuck up, shitty woman!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Your loud groan rang in Bakugou’s ears and his eyebrow twitched as he once again looked at your slumped figure. It was the second to last set of finals you guys would be taking as hero students. Three years later, you were nearing the final countdown to graduation! But that meant finals.

Bakugou had managed to stay within the top three of his class all three years. So he felt decent in where he was in class ranking right now. He has ranked third right now after all, but you ranked fifteenth. A feat that he had zero idea about how it came to be considering how smart you were. You had a sharp mind, a witty sense of humor, and a deadly tongue! Yet you were barely outperforming the rest of his idiot friends. You were one of the few people who could beat him in a verbal challenge! But when it came to pencil and paper tests, you stumbled hard.

“Would you stop fucking groaning?! You’re not getting anything done except getting on my goddamn nerves!”

“WELL!” You immediately yelled back, your nose stuck to the sky as you tossed your pencil away. “I don’t know actually! I screamed well because I live for the dramatics!" Bakugou groaned as you laugh. "Okay, but this all makes sense to me now! It's... I’ve realized I become an idiot whenever I try doing it on the exams.”

“It’s because you are an idiot.”

“Wow, thanks,” you complain as you slam your forehead against your math textbook. You shot back up gasping loudly. “OH SHIT! Bakugou you solved all my problems! This entire time I’ve been an idiot! I’ll tell Deku to give me some smart people juice tomorrow morning, obviously, I’ve been sipping the idiot juice.”

“Hah? Fucking hell -- do you ever shut up and wait for me to finish what I’m saying?!”

“Bakasuki, there was a period at the end of that sentence! Or let me guess what you’d say next!”

“Don’t fucking guess--”

“‘Oi, shitty woman, I’m Baku-hoe Kat-sucky, and you better get your head outta your asshole! Maybe if you weren’t always on your goddamn phone you wouldn’t be failing’!” Your voice had lowered multiple octaves to the point where you sounded like you smoked every day. Bakugou watched as your face contorted into a mock scowl, your nose stuck into the air as your arms folded across your chest. “‘I’m the alpha nerd here, so you have to fucking listen to me, you damn fucking nerd ass shitty woman!’”

Bakugou remained silent as you erupted in giggles, your eyes beaming with joy as you looked at him.

“I don’t fucking cuss, shitty woman,” Bakugou retorted. He knew it was a lie but the way your eyes expanded four times their size and how you pressed your face into his shoulder was worth the lie.

“You don’t cuss?! Wow, suddenly my name isn’t y/n!”

“Hm, well I was going to point out that you probably have some form of testing anxiety, but since you’re Miss. Fucking-Know-It-All…”

“There’s no way I’m eighteen and don’t know that about me!”

“Well, you didn’t fucking know you loved chocolate caramels until this last month either.”

This launched you into another tangent. Your conversation skills always gave Bakugou whiplash! You talked about everything you could and right now it was about what you loved. It should have annoyed Bakugou, he knew that! But while you rambled about how you loved seeing oversized dogs in bags, he realized that he loved knowing more about you.

How he would kill for the chance to pull you close, he knew that if he did you would hug him without a blink of an eye. Bakugou knew if he attempted to feel your warmth you’d overwhelm him forever and he wasn’t sure if that was something he wanted. Did he want you? Did he actually love you or was it just the chemistry in his brain is dumb. He wasn’t sure what he wanted as you showcased your favorite pencil.

“Do you have something you love, ‘suki?”

You.

“No, I don’t fucking love anything. The hell is love good for?”

“Don’t you worry about what people think about you when you can’t answer a question on something you love?”

The only opinion he cares about is yours.

“They don’t need to fucking care about what I love, how the hell does that make me a reliable pro hero?! Gossip and tabloids and interviews are bullshit. How is me smiling and being nice in front of a camera going to prove anything?”

Bakugou’s eyes widened as you wrapped your arms around him drawing him into a tight embrace. His eyes blinked rapidly as he felt frozen. His hands are frozen at his side as you pressed into him. You were making him dizzy. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he feared you could hear it as you pressed your lips to his ear.

“Sometimes you just have to hug people, let them know that you’re not letting go. Being kind and offering a hand, even if it kills your feral vibes, gives them a reason to love you and trust them. Trust is important, you know that, dummy. Hugging them is a small promise of not letting go.”

His breathing stilled as you pulled away. Your hair fell in your face and you sucked everything out of him as you smiled softly. But who would Bakugou Katsuki be if he didn’t have something back to say?

“I’m not fucking hugging any of those damn extras out there!”

“It was a FIGURE OF SPEECH, BAKAGOU!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Rise and shine, grumpy old man!” Your voice rang as bright sunshine shone through Bakugou’s room.

“Fucking hell, y/n! Shut my goddamn shutters!”

“It is past noon, and I am here to make sure you are in fact alive!”

“Shitty woman, please close the damn shutters… I got in three hours ago and I want to fucking sleep in.”

The shutters closed immediately and guilt hung heavy in your voice as you said, “Wait you got in at nine?! You got called out of class early, too!”

Bakugou who had been sitting up now, glowering at your form fell back onto his mattress without a word. Unfortunately, it seemed that you weren’t quite done with him.

“Why the hell are you still in my room?”

“...can I nap with you?”

“Hah?”

“I was out from five in the morning until a few minutes ago! I just… want to cuddle, but if you don’t want to that’s totally cool!”

“You’re so goddamn annoying,” he nearly growls. It wasn’t necessarily directed at you, but instead himself. He was going to let you obviously, but how much longer could he do this uncaring act? How he hadn’t just slammed your oblivious ass against a door to kiss the soul out of you was beyond him. “Get in.”

A loud squeal emitted from your throat as Bakugou felt your figure snuggling into his chest. Your body was cold against his, and he resisted the urge to shiver as you wrapped his arm around you.

“I never fucking said you were allowed to cuddle.”

“Oh please, you were going to latch onto me at some point, might as well do it now instead of waking up to it and freaking out.”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Shh, I’m trying to nap.”

Bakugou snorted but nonetheless brought you in closer as he too closed his eyes. He ended up falling asleep with you in his arms. It wasn’t until he woke up did he realize that today was to be your friend's date. Something you had been persistent in having. But as you too woke up at half-past seven p.m., the both of you agreed that the nap was way better than going out.

That is until Kaminari sent a picture of Bakugou and you cuddling to the group chat. But then again, Bakugou may or may not have saved it as his home screen.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

4:48 a.m.

Bakugou’s eyes focused on the neon red numbers that illuminated across his bed. His alarm was positioned as such so he would be forced to get up to turn it off in the morning.

His heartbeat was pounding in his ears as everything turned blurry.

4:49 a.m.

His eyes closed and he was suddenly back in Kamino two years ago.

His body felt dirty, sticky, unclean.

His mouth tainted with the taste of copper. His teeth gritting together as he saw All Might fighting in front of him.

It was hard to fight with his sweat-soaked and stiff clothes. All he knew was those bastards turned from wanting to convert him to wanting him dead. He remembers stumbling and seeing your frantic eyes in the corner of his vision. He didn't know you well back then, so it confused him, at least before a yell from Kirishima took his attention away.

It was the first actual memory he had of you, and yet it intertwined with his memory of All Might’s downfall. A downfall that could have been prevented if he had just been fucking better. If he had been a better hero maybe he wouldn’t have been caught. If he had been a better person maybe he would never have been targeted in the first place. It didn’t matter how many different ways he ran through his memories, it always ended up being his fault.

The fight with Deku had helped relieve the surface tension. All Might saying it wasn’t his fault barely made an impact on the guilt demon that ate away at his inner thoughts.

Simply told, tonight was a bad night. Nothing he did could drive away the guilt demon.

You were the one who made him strong but you were out on a mission for your hero work. You were being a hero to people who needed you, yet Bakugou wanted you to be his hero right now…

His anxiety crawled down his spine. His mind swimming back to the image of All Might's defeated form, and it kept reeling in his mind. His palms sweated profusely, but at this point, he had no idea if it was from his anxiety or from his quirk.

It burned to breathe and he wanted to go for a run, but he knew he shouldn’t. So he stood up out of bed choosing to walk down to the kitchen.

4:57 a.m., the clock read as the door shut behind him.

He felt dizzy as he walked down the hallway, his heart racing as he went down the staircase.

The lights were on and it made his eyes hurt as he opened the door for the ground floor.

“‘Suki?” A tired voice whispered as Bakugou stared up.

It was you.

Your uniform looked rumpled and dirty. Your tie wasn’t done and your hair was a mess as you yawn, your hand rubbing your eye as you waved at him. Bakugou saw the bandage on your neck and cheek and he pointed at them.

“Some dumbass with a--” you stifle a yawn as you shake your head. “Fucking vampire quirk! If he bit you, and consumed your blood, you would be entranced with him! Can you believe that!”

Bakugou snorted as you showed him the bruised mark on your neck.

“Thing is, he doesn’t have fangs, his teeth were super dull, so now I look like I had sex!”

“Can’t have people thinking that huh?”

“Nah... now, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Bakugou knew better than to lie to you, but he couldn’t help it, you needed to sleep.

“Nothing, I needed water.”

“I’m sure you are,” you nod your head as you adjust your backpack. “But that doesn’t explain why there’s tears in your eyes and on your cheeks.”

His eyes widened as he felt the wet stains on his face, he was indeed crying.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” he grumbled as his hands shoved into his sweats.

“That’s okay,” you smile as you take a few steps forward. “Can I give you a hug?”

It takes everything in him not to scream at you to hug him, so instead, he turns his head and nods curtly. Your arms are wrapped around him immediately as he feels himself shrinking into your hold. You were safe, you were warm, and you made him weak.

It was at that moment that Bakugou Katsuki noticed that he completely and utterly was in love with you.

As he went through these thoughts you grabbed his hand and led him upstairs, “I’ll get you your water, but you need to rest.”

“Shitty woman, I can take care of myself,” Bakugou breathed as he didn’t resist you taking him to his room. “Besides we have class tomorrow, you need more sleep than I do.”

He watches as you shrug as you open his room door.

“Maybe so, but I’m a Hero and you’re someone in need of a savior!” you chirped as your lips pressed softly onto his cheek as you sat him in bed. “I’ll be right back, lay down please!”

He nodded dumbly as you left, his cheeks burning as the door closed.

It felt like no time had passed as you soon returned with a cup of water, “Now drink! Crying is good for the soul, but it dehydrates you so much.”

“Tch, idiot, don’t say that like you cry all the time,” Bakugou grumbles as he chugs the water down.

Your fingers take the glass from him and place it onto the desk, your shoulders bouncing as you sigh one last time. “Well, I should go to bed, I may not need beauty sleep, but even three hours of sleep can make me ugly.”

“Sleep here,” Bakugou found himself mumbling as you were by the door. “You can take a shirt, I just… please, just fucking sleep here with me?”

Bakugou expected teasing, he expected you to laugh it off and say he was dumb and crazy. What he didn’t expect was for you to grab his skull t-shirt and strip your clothes off in his bathroom.

He stilled as you crawled into bed with him, your body curling into his as you held him near.

“Goodnight, ‘suki,” you whispered.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, a sharp intake of air went through your nose.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome…”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You smile while wiping away tears that formed in your eyes.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down your face as you taped up the last box with writing that read: Y/N PICTURES.

It was moving out day, you had done it, you graduated.

“Y/l/n-chan!! Stop crying and c-come take a p-p-picture with us!” Mina wailed as she too was crying uncontrollably.

The common room was fill of every one of your classmates, tears were in everyone's eyes as boxes scattered near the entrance. It was over. Three years of heaven and hell were gone and even though everyone would still be seeing everyone again (you all were working in the same general areas after all), tears wouldn’t stop.

Multiple times you brushed away tears as twenty-one of you stood for class pictures.

Class pictures became friend group pictures, friend group pictures became trios and duo pictures.

Everyone was crying and everyone was laughing too. It was as if you were never going to see anyone again and the tears wouldn’t stop.

I love you’s were exchanged, promises of not forgetting who each other were as you would all become stars, and plans on monthly meetups because you were family. It was too much, it was too sentimental, and you were ready to leave.

“I hate to do this to you all, but it’s time to go,” Aizawa lulled over the roar of your classes chatter.

For the first time, his words were useless as you all took a photo with him, much to your homeroom teachers' secret enjoyment.

But now it was time to go.

You gave a one-armed hug to Mineta as he bounded out of the door. He had somewhat had drunk respect-women juice and was now tolerable. But the nightmares forever remained.

Then Koda, Aoyama, Shoji, Ojiro, Tokoyami, and Sato were done swiftly yet deeply. They all said kind words and promises to keep in touch as they left.

Then it was Iida, Todoroki, and Midoriya. The group of boys embraced you tightly as Iida told you and Midoriya to stop crying. It only strengthening your tears as Todoroki patted your back softly.

Then it was Mina, Momo, Jirou, Tsu, Uraraka, and Hagakure. The girl group and the reason why this class felt like family so quickly made you cry harder as you all lost it. Hugs were tight, hugs lasted minutes long as you all shouted over each other. This was not goodbye, just a see you later.

Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, Mina, and Jirou once again met you for a tight embrace. The dubbed Bakusquad because Bakugou was the loudest one in the group, but you all knew that if the group never held Kirishima it would never work. Bakusquad was truly Kirisquad and you excitedly talked about how you were all going to karaoke on Sunday.

A gentle cough broke you from Sero’s embrace and you turned to the last person who you hadn’t hugged yet.

Bakugou didn’t look at you as he sighed, his shoulder slumping as he looked at you. Your lips quirked as your heart raced at his red-tinged eyes, he had cried too.

“We’ll see you guys later!” Kaminari yelled as the boxes in the now empty common room belonged to you.

“We’re still on for tonight?” Bakugou asked as his finger brushed the wet trails that stained your cheeks.

“Have I ever ditched you or stood you up?”

“You could have made plans in your crying hysteria, it’s been done before.”

His words are teasing and you laugh as you launch yourself into his arms. Your arms wrap around his neck as his rest around your waist.

“I don’t know why you weren’t interested in having a spa day with the girls!” You teased as you bit your lower lip.

“Too much gossip about dicks,” Bakugou rolled his eyes as he squeezed you tightly.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t go, I wouldn’t have wanted you to see me talking about my dick of a boyfriend,” you whisper as his eyes shine brilliantly.

“Hah? You’re really gonna fucking--”

Bakugou never got to finish that sentence as your lips pressed against his and his mind went weak as he kissed you back.

You were the undoing of Bakugou Katsuki.

You made him weak, yet he’s never felt stronger.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha bakugou

[baeklination]

Ocean: the deep (2)

Pic: comma.

Date: 210114

Warnings/Contains: angst, abuse (ment./emot.), gen.explicit language

Pairing: au! Baekhyun x F. Reader

WC: 7,9k

NOTE: It’s not all angst, but describing it as fluff feels off. On sensitive/explicit topics.

Prologue  Masterlist

                                    ¤¤

Alot of us tell ourselves “I’d know”, but chances are you wouldn’t. Not if they didn’t want you to. And if they did, showed you a sliver of the truth, would you be brave enough to see it instead of thinking up an excuse? 

                                     ¤¤

“Are you okay?”, Beanie asks, putting the break on her stroller so you can sit down on the park bench.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. A little tired. Still getting used to drinking wine instead of mixed drinks I guess.”

“No, not you. I mean you guys, you and Baekhyun.”

“What do you mean? You saw him last night.” Doubt finding its way to your mind - she has after all known him for longer than you. “Did...Did he say something to you?”

“No, but I noticed…”, she turns to you, stalling. “Don’t get mad, alright?”

“Why would I get mad?”

“Just… I’m gonna say something and I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

“Okay, I won’t get mad, Bean. What?”

“I’ve been married to Minnie for a while now, so I see Baekhyun alot, and I’ve heard some things - rumours I guess - that maybe, you know…”

“Don’t say it, Bean. Please don’t say it.” Heart sinking, you brace yourself and ask her.

“That he sleeps around..?”

“No, not that. More that he’s maybe...not so...kind.” 

“What..?”, you burst out.

“Like I said, it’s rumours, I never really hung out with his girlfriends before, so I wouldn’t know. But I…”

Beanie’s fidgeting makes your throat tighten.

“I feel like Baekhyun used to dote on you, but lately he’s been acting more like...your dad.”

“That’s ridiculous..!”, you say, swatting your hand in the air. “Besides, don’t dads dote on their kids, hm?” 

“But you’re not his daughter”, she says bluntly, fixing her eyes on you.

“Are you talking about something specific that happened last night?”

                                          ¤¤

  Hearing the lock turn you breathe a sigh of relief; having a dinner party at home without the owner of said home wasn’t your plan. Baekhyun stops in the living room to greet his guests and engage in the usual banter - as if he didn’t see half of them earlier in the day - before you hear his footsteps nearing the kitchen. 

“Sorry I’m late, sweetie. I just couldn’t seem to get out..!”, he huffs.

Putting on your best Suzy Homemaker air (jokingly, of course), you turn around with your arms open.

“You’re just in time, Baekhyun. Honestly, I just took the lasagna out of the oven.”

“Wow, this looks great…”, Baekhyun says, taking the sight of your carefully planned dishes in before kissing you. “But…Are you wearing that?”, he says leaning back, his eyes slightly narrowing.

“Hm? You picked this dress. Don’t you remember?”, you say puzzled.

“Of course I remember. But it’s...more for me, isn’t it? Just me. Maybe put on something more modest?”

“Modest..?”, you laugh. “This isn’t worse than any of the other girls...” 

“Well, you don’t have to be like them, do you? You’re my girl, aren’t you?”, he coos.

You know he’s being overly sensitive, but it won’t cost your ego much to change - not as much as this dinner ruined would, so you lift your hands up in defeat.

“Okay, you win”, you sigh.

His smile lights up not only his face, but your entire being. His hands on your cheeks is a promise of sweet touches to be given later on; his lips one of your name being whispered in love.

“I’ll set the table, sweetie.”

¤

“You changed your dress?”, Beanie asks.

“Serves me right for not wearing an apron”, you chuckle as you sit down.

Baekhyun takes your hand and smiles. 

“Please, everyone”, you gesture to the fully laden table “enjoy.”

                                        ¤¤

“No, I mean in general.”

“Well, in general, you’ve nothing to worry about. Sure, I don’t get flowers delivered every other day like before, but that’s because I practically live with him now. You know how it is”, you say, gesturing to her stroller. “The beginning is always a fairytale, and then it becomes something else. You don’t need all the trimmings when you realise you…”

“Love each other?”, Beanie says, leaning forward with big eyes.

“Yeah…”, you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“Baekhyun said the L word to you..!”

“A month ago. And every day since. God, why am I embarrassed to say it!? Stop laughing, Bean!”

“I’m sorry. This is great!”, Beanie replies, clapping her hands. “Now I feel bad for dragging him like that...”

“I won’t tell on you.” You sit quiet for a moment, then continue. “And when you say “dad”, if you mean how he sometimes suggests things for me to do, or wear, I dunno, it’s because I’ve asked him to. You know I’m not from around here, so sometimes when we go places, say for dinner, I want to know what cutlery to use, or what those goddamn french words mean, you know. It’s embarrassing - for me - to be so obviously misplaced…”

“Shit, don’t I know it…”, Beanie shakes her head. “What? You know I grew up on the other side. First time Minnie took me to a corporate event...he called it “a party”, so you know I rolled up in my shortest sequin number and my highest glitter heels… Shit, the looks I got!”, she wheezes.

“Those stiffs must’ve thought you were the entertainment!”

“Hey! But you’re right. I tell you, Minnie didn’t get any for a week.”

After wiping her tears Beanie gets serious again:

“I’m sorry, alright? Only looking out for you. But who knows...soon I might be looking for a maid of honour attire”, she smirks.

You cross your fingers and smile back.

                                         ¤¤

“I’ll be a happy man the day I don’t have to read the name Seung Inc. again”, Baekhyun sighs and slumps down on the couch, lifting your head to rest on his thigh.

“Settlement getting the better of you?”

“Their stupidity might”, he chuckles, giving you a kiss. “I’ll take Ga’ round the block before bed.”

“No, I can do it.”

“I could use some fresh air. And your overdramatic drama starts soon, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a perfectly lifelike show, Baekhyun. What, you mean your boss doesn’t slap you cross the face?”, you giggle, remembering his disbelief at the scene.

“No, but I might slap him one of these days. Come on Ga’”, he says, getting up and patting his thigh. “Gawa, come here.”

Gawa doesn’t move, so you nudge him off of the couch:

“Go!”

“Why do I always have to call that dog three times?”, Baekhyun shakes his head.

“What that dog thinks is anyone’s guess. He probably likes the way you say his name. Don’t forget-”

“Bags. I know.”

  Feeling a little antsy you busy yourself with a bit of tidying up in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher, wiping the counters and the like. There’s really no need, as you’ve already done it, but it’s something to do while waiting for Baekhyun to come back, for him to go to bed. “Take it easy. It’s just a search, what’s gonna happen? Nothing. It’s not true, so nothing.” 

When he’s finally tucked in you bring in his water bottle - which he always forgets - and put it on the nightstand. 

“Thanks.”

“All set?”

“Beyond all set…”

“Mm, I can see you won’t need a bedtime story to fall asleep”, you say, running your fingers through his hair.

“Depends…”, he says, seemingly half asleep. “Depends on the story”, he smiles, guiding your hand downwards.

You pull it away. When he doesn’t even bother opening his eyes you know he wasn’t serious anyway, so you turn off the light and say goodnight, closing the door behind you.

                                     ¤¤ 

  Finishing your show you mute the TV and sit still for a while, making sure you can’t hear any sound except Gawa’s snoozing. “Let’s just do this.” You grab your computer and start reading. You’re relieved to find you can’t relate to most of the things you read, but once in a while the text makes you stop;

Patronizing; one month: 

Going through your phone Baekhyun had laughed when you suggested he wouldn’t like finding you going through his. “Go ahead. But I doubt you’d be able to discern anything.”

“What, ‘cus I’m not a corporate lawyer suddenly I’m dumb..?”

“No...But put it this way. Since I am a lawyer I know certain things. But you know things I don’t, sweetie. Like scanning barcodes, or working a cash register. That’s more your thing”, he had smiled. 

You had definitely felt some kind of way about the conversation. But seeing as he’d already said he wasn’t calling you dumb you didn’t find the words to approach it without it seeming like you were picking a fight.

“Joking”: Two months:

 “Baekhyun, I don’t think this is my size. Why’d you cut the label off?”

“It was huge. I knew you’d do it anyway. Maybe you’ve gained weight…”,  he said, chuckling at how the fabric cut into your waist.

You knew you hadn’t, and comparing it to your other trousers, the one he bought was definitely smaller.

Monitoring your whereabouts: three months:

Stacking condiments on the shelf at work you’d seen him coming down the aisle; a lovely surprise in the middle of a long shift. “Hi..! What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone, just wanted to see you’re okay.”

“I don’t have it on me, you know that.”

“Okay, you got me. I was gonna pretend I wanted snacks, but really I missed you.”

You had found it adorable that he’d gotten into the car just to see you. But had he maybe done it to see if your text was true - if you were really covering a shift for a sick coworker? 

“Sweetie…”

Drunk with sleep you rub your eyes. Baekhyun is kneeling next to the couch, the white light from your laptop making him an angelic figure in the otherwise dark room.

“Oh”, you scrunch your face. “I must’ve fallen asleep…”

“You must have”, he says, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Who’s being abused?”

You jerk, suddenly fully awake, and look at your screen: “Signs to look out for”. You scramble to sit up and close the web browser.

“No, Beanie just-”

“Minnie’s abusing Beanie?”

“No. Someone in her mom circle...she thought maybe. I don’t know…” You know it’s impossible Baekhyun doesn’t hear the lie, but he doesn’t let on. “I just thought I’d see if there’s anything she could look...out for, you know. She’s busy with the baby and all...”, you shrug your shoulders, trying to brush it off as nothing special.

“If she’s that busy maybe she shouldn’t put her nose in other people’s business”, he says, cocking his head.

There’s an almost undetectable smile on his lips which sends a shiver through your body.

“It’s not like that, she-”

“Come to bed”, he says getting up on his feet.

“I... Come on, Gawa.”

“No, he stays. I don’t want him in the room.”

  There’s something distinctly different in how his shoulders look as he walks away. Something that makes you drag out your visit to the bathroom, hoping he’ll be asleep by the time you’re done. Tiptoeing into your room you breathe a sigh of relief, until you get into bed and he immediately rolls over to hug you. Any other day this would’ve been nothing less than what you expected - and wanted - but now all you can think of is how fast your heart is beating, and whether he can feel it or not. And Beanie…“What if he asks her? I can’t tell her to lie for me, then I’d have to explain why I did it in the first place…” But your thoughts are interrupted when Baekhyun exhales loudly into your neck and pulls your body closer, easing you out of your underwear.

                                         ¤¤

  Cutting the alarm at 08.15 you sit up to find the bed empty. Well, empty of Baekhyun. He’d let the door stay open for Gawa to jump into bed, as he is now halfheartedly wagging his tail, looking at you. The fact that he’s not already in your face, vying for your attention means Baekhyun has both walked and fed him. And that means he’s not angry with you about last night.

“Ay, ay”, you sigh getting out of bed, tying your robe tightly. “Maybe I should cut back even more on my hours like he wants. Whaddya say, Ga’? Staying home watching dramas all day, wouldn’t that be something?” 

 Shuffling out to the kitchen you see a note on the counter: “I’m meeting Seung Inc.redible ass for dinner. Home early, call me if you want take out.” Baekhyun always ends his notes with a star. Never a heart, or a smiley, but a star. Today it makes you pause, mulling last night over in your head. Not so much thinking as feeling. “Sweetie…” Nothing had happened, yet deep down you know something had. But since it is deep down you swat it away with ease, going about your day as planned. 

  Coming back to your apartment to find half of your plants either dead or hanging on to life by a thread was the twig that broke the back of your dubble home lifestyle. The surfaces being covered in dust and your clothes smelling stuffy was just icing on said broken back. 

“...and cleaning up feels like a waste since I’ll be gone and the same thing’s gonna happen..”, you complain over the phone to Baekhyun. 

“Sweetie..? Are you asking me if you can move in with me..?”, Baekhyun says at the other end. You can tell he has a smile on his face.

“Wha-no… I’m not”, you laugh, suddenly realising that’s exactly what it sounds like. “I was just venting.”

“So you don’t wanna move in with me?”

If you say yes it will really seem as if you were fishing, so you just stare at the phone. 

“You there…?”

“Yeah, I just… Are you really asking?”

“Yes…”

What you want to do is swing from your lamp like it’s a merry-go-round and scream, but you keep it cool, clearing your throat.

“Well, it’s a pretty big decision. Of course I’d say yes, but I have to confer with my associate.”

“This associate of yours, does it happen to be a big furry thing who is probably lying next to you, listening in..?”

“Maybe…”

“Mr. Gawa, I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

“Baekhyun! I’ve seen that movie - it’s not a good offer..!”, you holler.

“Okay, okay”, he laughs. “My offer is love. Good enough?”

You scrunch your face and smother a yelp of delight.

“Good enough, Baekhyun…”

“Great”, he huffs. “Typical Seung, calling to rain on my happy moment… You’ll come home tonight then?”

“My first night as the lady of the manor, wouldn’t miss it. Go easy on him..! Love you.”

“Love you. Bye.”

  You sit in disbelief for a moment. Did an everyday phone call with Baekhyun just end in you moving in with him? A dozen unfinished thoughts goes through your mind; giving up the apartment seems daunting somehow; what do I do with all my stuff; does he have room for what I wanna bring..? But it is mostly happy thoughts painted in pink.

“Hope this puts an end to the tiffs we’ve had lately. Brings it back to how it was before”, you sigh. “Look alive, Gawa - you’re moving up in the world..!”, you say, wrestling with him for a bit.

                                           ¤¤ 

“Agh!”, you huff, kicking your shoes off in the hallway and dropping your bag on the floor.

Baekhyun, for once home earlier than you, gives you a curious look from the sofa.

“Rough day?”

“My car won’t start..!”

“How’d you get home?”

“It was fine, but when I turned the ignition off my headlights wouldn’t go out, so I was gonna do it again, but it wouldn’t start. I’ve been sitting in the parking lot for fifteen minutes revving the engine like Wacky Races..! I had to cut the battery ‘cus of the lights”, you complain, slumping down next to him with your head in his lap. “I was so angry I almost forgot Ga’ in the car. Ahh, that fucking car, Baekhyun..!”, you laugh desperately.

“You gonna leave it at the shop?”

“I can’t afford it right now. Not again.”

“Don’t be silly, I’ll pay for it.” 

“I don’t want you to. I’ll take the bus.”

“What’s a bus?”, Baekhyun frowns, choking a smile.

You roll your eyes at him and shake your head, as if you don’t think him playing with high class manners is funny. 

“Wait, I wanna lie down”, he says, stretching out on the couch with you as his blanket.

“I’ll give you money for the cab tomorrow”, he says, kissing your hand.

“There’s no cab. I’m taking the bus. But thank you.”

“Some start to being the lady of the manor… Speaking of which, did you give your… How many months is the notice...?”

“Three. No, I…”, you pause.

Baekhyun shakes his head a little, a question.

“I thought you might wanna talk it over.”

“We already did..? You having second thoughts?”

“Of course not..! It was just in case, since I was whining about it, maybe you asked...on the spur of the moment, kinda?”

His honeyed laughter rings in your ears.

“You think I’d ask you to move in on the spur of the moment?”

“Well, no...when you say it like that it sounds different..!”

“ Ah, what to do with you, sweetie”, he sighs. “You wanna have a party maybe?”

“A party?”

“Not a rave, but invite a few people, you know.”

“Hm...eh, I hadn’t...hm, okay.”

“We don’t have to.”

“No, I just hadn’t thought about it. It’ll be fun, let’s do it. Wait, I don’t even know - do you have a storage room in the building? If my stuff can fit there or whether I should rent something?”

“You’re bringing your things here, aren’t you?”

“I mean the big things, my furniture and…”

“You don’t need them anymore, just throw them out? Or are you planning on leaving me..?”, Baekhyun teases.

“Nooo. But I spent money on them, I don’t wanna just chuck ‘em out.”

“It’s stupid, but do as you wish”, he sighs.

“It’s not. Humour me. For a while at least.”

In these mundane things is where your heart is, feeling Baekhyun’s breathing and warmth through his thin t-shirt while he watches the news, lightly scratching the nape of your neck, but otherwise paying no particular attention to you. 

                                         ¤¤ 

  Even though you at first hadn’t a thought of having a moving-in party, the thought really grew on you, and you decided to throw something together. It was all rather ad-hoc: drinks, ramyun, games, a few shiny balloons you’d gotten from work and a dozen guests. Most of them were from Baekhyun’s office, but that didn’t matter, you knew and liked them well enough. Oddly enough, Beanie hadn’t gotten back to you today. You knew she was coming, she’d been too excited about the news not to, but you couldn’t get a hold of her now. You’d been checking your phone so often it was borderline rude, so you’d left it in the kitchen for some peace of mind, but now hearing your ringtone you excuse yourself and dash to get it. It’s not her.

“Hey, I forgot the code to the gate..?”

“Didn’t I send you a text with it?”

“Oh… I forgot that to..! Sorry, be right up.”

  Without being unappreciative of the friends that are here you can’t help missing the one who isn’t. You could probably drink and laugh away the night with anyone of these people, but with Beanie it’s different. You don’t know if it’s because both of you are from “the other side of the tracks” and somehow ended up in fancy places, but you do know your connection with her was instant, like meeting your twin from another lifetime. You know her word is her bond and that’s why her silence unnerves you.

“Problem?”

A little startled, you spin around to see Baekhyun.

“Nah, just Katy asking for the code.”

“Really..?”, he frowns. “You seem a bit…” 

“I thought it might be Bean…”, you shrug your shoulders. “Can you try Minnie, please?”

“He’s out of town on business”, Baekhyun replies casually.

“What?”

“He had to go, sweetie.”

“Had to go? Don’t you decide that?”

“What’s your point?”

“Well… Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Baekhyun cocks his head to the side. It makes your chest tighten.

“You want me to ask you how to do my job?”

“Of course not”, you say, deflated. “I’m just disappointed.”

“Well, you have guests in the other room. Maybe you should think more about them instead of sitting in here having a tantrum over someone who doesn’t even answer your calls. Shouldn’t you?”

You don’t want to let Baekhyun off the hook for not telling you about Min, but you know it wouldn’t make a difference if you continued. 

“I just don’t get why Beanie’s not picking up… What if something’s wrong?”

“She has a kid, she’s probably busy. And at this hour”, he says, looking at his watch “...she probably has her phone on mute. Come on now. I spent a lot of money on this, you don’t wanna ruin it for everyone, do you?”

Letting his words sink in, logic and guilt alike, you come to terms with the situation and realise that you really don’t want to ruin it for everyone, or yourself. You shake your head with a crooked smile.

“That’s my girl. No more pouting”, Baekhyun says, with a light poke on your nose. 

  Getting into bed you look through your phone one last time; check the call log and text messages, in case you’ve somehow clicked Beanie away, but there’s nothing there. Now, with not so little alcohol in your system you don’t worry about her being okay, but about your friendship. Had you done something wrong? Or rather, did she think you had; had she misunderstood something maybe? You try to put it out of your mind, but it sits like a little pebble in your gut, only given a break by Baekhyun.

“Thank god they’re gone..!”, he exclaims, dragging you on top of him. 

“You talked the most, drank the most-”

“I was trying to scare them away”, he laughs between kisses. “Every fucking time you moved on the couch I imagined it was me under there… Now be a good girl and ride me, sweetie.”

                                        ¤¤ 

As you hadn’t been able to get a hold of Beanie the following couple of days you had made up your mind to go to her and Minnie’s home - one of these days. Deciding to do something and having the courage to do it can be two very different things, and it fell on divine intervention to push you forward.

Waiting for Baekhyun to pick you up from the mall you spot Minnie walking across the parking lot.

“Min..!”, you shout, zig-zagging your way through the parked cars.

He smiles when he spots you, but you detect a degree of discomfort in it.

“Oh, hi. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been to lunch with my mom, just waiting for Baekhyun to pick me up.”

“Lunch date with mom, that’s nice. I haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?”, he asks, as he starts for his car again.

“I’m good. You?”

“I’m good, just came back from out of town-”

“Yeah”, you interrupt. “That’s actually what I wanted to ask you about… Is Beanie alright? She didn’t come to my party and I can’t get a hold of her.”

“Yeah, she’s fine. You know how it is, busy with the baby and all… She probably just forgot.”

 Even with his face turned away as he’s putting his bags in the trunk you can tell he’s not being honest. You’re not sure if you want to know why though. You study his face as he rounds the car to the driver’s door - he’s clearly uncomfortable, trying to force a normal demeanour, so you press him on it.

“But I don’t think she’d forget about it. Or not get in touch on her own - we talk almost every day, Min.”

“Shit...”, he says, fidgeting with the keys. “I asked her not to go, okay. To keep a little distance for a while.”

“From me? Why? I thought we were-”

“No, it’s…”

They way he’s frowning and struggling with his words you know why.

“Baekhyun asked me to”, he finishes, holding his hands up in defeat.

“What, no. You must’ve misunderstood, Min”, you say, not wanting to let on what you’re really thinking. “Why would he?”

“He didn’t say, he just… Aeh, you know what? Maybe I did misunderstand him. Talk to him when you see him, it’s probably nothing”, he says, getting into the car.

“Yeah, I’ll tell him you ruined my party over nothing”, you chuckle. “Tell Bean to answer next time, alright?”

“Will do. See you around?”

“See ya”, you say, waving him off.

  You spend the few minutes you have left to wait wondering - fearing - why Baekhyun would ask such a thing of Minnie. Actually, you’re not wondering at all - you know why. But if that’s the case what does it mean? Why wouldn’t he sit down with you and have a conversation about it like an adult? Why would he essentially order Min to keep her away? He must know what it looks like… And what would Beanie think it looks like? What the hell are you gonna tell her when you see her again? “If you see her, you mean? I will see her.” You promise yourself you won’t let Baekhyun get away with this, that you’re gonna have a proper talk about it. But your resolve gets a nick as soon as you get in the car, for a moment pretending that it might just be a misunderstanding…

“How’s your mom?”

“You know, same old, same old.”

“Nothing new on the westfront..?”, he smiles at you and takes your hand.

“Not much. But I saw Min. Bumped into him, I mean. Just now.”

You can’t tell if you sound casual. When Baekhyun tightens his grip on your hand you definitely feel less than casual.

“Hm. Beanie?”

“No, it was just him. He-”

“So what’d he say?”, he asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

This is your in, but you’re not as brave as you were five minutes ago. If you bring it up you can’t unsay it and everything that follows will be your doing; do you want to spend a wonderful evening with your man or do you want to walk around on glass shards?

“Beanie thinks you don’t like her…”

He spares you a quick glance with a furrowed brow.

“He said that?”

“Not exactly. He said, eh, I don’t wanna be a tattle tale...”

“What are you, ten years old?”, he scoffs. “We can talk about it when we get home”, he continues and lets go of your hand. 

 It’s sickening, the darkness that emanates from him. Even shifting in your seat to look out the window you feel like a bother to him. You don’t want to “talk about it”, you want to shout at him for trying to decide who your friends are, and for cutting you off. But you also wanna sweep it under the rug, beg his forgiveness with your saddest eyes and let him know he’s more important than anyone else.

                                            ¤¤

  From the garage to the elevator to the hallway, every step feels like you're walking closer to springing a bear trap you set for yourself.

“You’re hovering...”, Baekhyun notes when you stand by the kitchen island, watching him scroll through his phone.

“Well, you said...we were gonna talk…”

“What’s there to talk about?”

You look at him, dumbfounded, until he puts away his phone and raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Minnie. Did you say anything to him about Beanie? I’m hoping it’s a misun-”

“That he should keep her away? Yeah.”

“Why would you do that? She’s my friend!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me.”

“Baekhyun…”

You try to find the right words as your eyes start burning, but end up throwing your hands up in defeat.

“She’s my friend…”

“Sweetie”, he says, coming up to you, looking down at you. “I’ve known her longer than you, I think I know what’s best.”

“I can take care of myself. Make my own decisions.”

“Sure you can. But I’m the one who moved you from a tiny apartment to a skyrise flat, no?”, he chuckles.

You know he sometimes has a tendency to poke fun at you, but this was different. Going from letting you know it doesn’t matter what your paycheck says to making sure you know it does - the audacity doesn’t make you angry, it hurts you.

“Why do you have to put me down? Like in the car, when you called me ten..”

“What am I supposed to do with you when you act like this then?” Pausing, seemingly drawing pleasure from your expression he continues in a softer tone, putting his arms around you “I was only kidding, you’re too sensitive, sweetie.”

“I guess I am...”, you whisper, knowing you can’t make him listen anyway. “I’m gonna take Ga’ out.”

   Giving Baekhyun the silent treatment doesn’t work. He sees through it, thinks it’s childish and wants no part of it. Besides, he’s better at it than you are; making some calls, working in his home office, reading the paper while seemingly not noticing your silent rebellion. After a while the TV and Gawa can’t keep your fearful thoughts away, the ones where he decides you’re no fun anymore. The clock is creeping closer to dinner time and that’ll be make or break as you see it - making up and eating together or eating alone and making a bad situation worse. You don’t want to give up even more of your pride, but his silence won’t stop any other way. “And besides, a relationship is about diplomacy. Sometimes you have to let the other person win.. It’s normal.”

 You walk past his study and the kitchen to find him lying in bed with his phone. Quiet as a mouse you sit down on your end, suddenly scared it won’t work, that he’ll brush away your attempt at reconciliation like so many bread crumbs from the mattress. “Do I beg?” A part of you is disgusted with yourself because you know he’s waiting for you to crawl back. He doesn’t look at you when you turn around to face him, but oh, he’s waiting alright. Shuffling up next to him you cautiously lower yourself down, hoping he’ll let you in. When he moves his arm for you to lay down, putting it around you when you have, the release you feel is immeasurable. Winning or losing isn’t so important. Baekhyun is. He runs his hand over your hair, eyes still fixed on the phone, you stretch your arm out, tucking your fingers beneath his shirt to feel his warm torso. That other stuff may be important, but not right now. 

                                            ¤¤

“Dear Diary in my head… Why didn’t I say anything? I’m not afraid of him, so why was I afraid to? I was lazy ‘cus I didn’t wanna go on with the fight. But I’m not a fucking school girl wanting a boy’s approval, so I should’ve insisted. Now it sounds pathetic, “I should’ve insisted I be allowed to see Beanie”, like he’s my dad - shit, that’s what Beanie said… I AM allowed to see her, goddamn it, and I will, I don’t care. He’s the one being unreasonable - as if I love every single one of his friends..! If that article is what he's mad about it doesn't even make sense, ‘cus he’s not like that. But what if he is...like that rumour she was talking about… Jesus CHRIST, I’d know if he was! Now I’m just winding myself up ‘cus I’m irritated, stop it. I know how he is; hot headed in the moment, but forgets about it quickly. I mean what, he’s gonna hate on his colleagues wife forever? Ah-ah, he’ll get over it. And I need to stop being such a pushover when we argue, that’s for damn sure…”

                                           ¤¤ 

“How many times have you seen her?”, Baekhyun asks coldly, holding up your phone.

You hadn’t, as you first thought, forgot to take it with you to the bedroom last night - he’d taken it before you woke up. There’s no room for you to come up with a lie, white or other. Actually, this time there’s not even room for your dread as you immediately get pissed off at him for taking it.

“I didn’t opt out of having a password for you to go through my phone”, you say sternly, going to retrieve it from him. When he moves you fix your eyes on him “Baekhyun..!”

“How many times?”

“A few times. She’s my friend, and I missed her. I know y-”

“A few times?”

There’s a glint in his eye that makes you unsettled so you make like you’re starting breakfast, with him following you.

“What do you talk about?”

“Nothing. This and that…”

“For example..?”

“I don’t keep a log, do I?”, you mumble sarcastically, more to yourself than him. 

Before you have time to react he's grabbed your arm, making your head bounce against the wall.

"What did you just say?", he spits in your face, but seeing how you cower, eyes locked on his hand hanging in the air, he remembers himself. "So fucking dumb", he hisses, releasing his grip on you with a shove to the side.

Toppling over, trying to compose yourself you see him snatching his blazer from his seat before leaving. 

  In an instant Baekhyun has made you so small you feel that the chairs, table and island are all towering up around you where you sit on the floor. Your eyes are fixed on the door, terrified you’re going to see the lock turn open. You won’t hear it through the piercing sound in your ears. “He was gonna hit me…” Understanding he’s not coming back you stand up, bracing yourself against the wall. What now? You look around aimlessly, not even realising you’re clutching your arm, until you see your phone on the counter. Like a bolt the obvious answer hits you: “You can’t stay.”  Hurrying to the closet you grab one of Baekhyun’s overnight bags - he won’t miss it - and open the drawers, grabbing a handful of everything and stuffing them in it; tearing clothes off their racks, making the hangers fall to the floor with a clank and sweep toiletries in  with one movement. Lacing up your shoes your heart threatens to break your chest in half. You repeatedly call Gawa, then remember your mom’s had him a few nights.

“Where’s my...” You look around for your jacket in a fever, unable to focus. 

“Did he take my jacket? My keys...no...”, you think even though you’re certain you never saw him with it.

“Ah!”

 Running to your room you breathe a sigh of relief when you see it hanging on a chair; putting it on you check your pockets to see everything’s there and *qo...*. You freeze. Was that the bolt sliding? Not hearing any other sounds you slide your phone open, ready to call whomever, leaving sweat marks over the screen, and inch your way out to the dining room. 

“Baekhyun..?”

 Your bag is right there. If he’s somehow managed to come in without you hearing it, he’s seen it, and with the open floor plan the only doors in the apartment are on the bathroom, office and walk-in closet - all situated round the entrance. You can’t lock yourself in. Your gut churns as you expect him to round the corner with his head to the side - the way it always is when he disapproves of something. Feeling like he’s toying with you, you give way to despondency, wiping your tears before you keep walking and turn the corner. But he’s not there. The door is locked. You sink down on wobbly legs, catching your breath. Grabbing your bag you hear that sound again, and realise it was just a glass bottle in the bag settling, knocking against another one. 

“Fuck! Jesus Christ…”

 Sitting down you start thinking about where to go. In the back of your head you’d assumed your mom’s place, but now you see there are only two ways that could go: you don’t tell her why, so she’ll invite Baekhyun in when he comes looking or you do tell her and she’ll insist you report him to the police. But what’s there to report? “He DIDN’T hit me. He grabbed your arm! Yeah, he grabbed my arm in a fight when he found out I’d been lying to him… They won’t do anything…”

“Why did I lie to him..! None of this would've happened if I’d been honest, just told him the first time I saw her. And if I hadn’t acted like that when he asked… Of course he'd be angry, anyone would. Being angry is one thing, punching someone is different. But he didn't… I mean, haven't I been so annoyed I've wanted to hit him? It's not the same thing! Why not? Because he happens to be stronger than me? It's still violence...You KNOW why it isn't… If he HAD, sure, I'd never let him near me again, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t.”

 Going back and forth with yourself in your head was just a formality and a way to convince yourself you're the type of person that 1: won't tolerate being treated like shit, and 2: would give someone a second chance. “Everyone deserves a second chance. At least a chance to explain themselves.” 

Putting your things back you make sure they are exactly as they had been, while ignoring the voice that asks why you’re worried he might be able to tell a difference. Now there’s nothing left to do but somehow pass the excruciatingly long hours until he gets off work...

                                        ¤¤

 Not hearing from Baekhyun all day had you go from thinking he’d been wrong to fearing he’d still think you were.

If you can forgive him then surely he can forgive you, right? If he’s still angry, you’ll make an effort; if he doesn't say anything about it, neither will you. You’ll go on as usual, have a visit with your mom, be fine. 

Standing in front of the mirror in your closet, trying to figure out what top to wear has a different feeling to it today; you're trying to cover up your arm. There isn't any bruising on it as far as you can tell, but you never know… When the lock turns your pulse goes up. You’ve been anxiety ridden all day, as well as longing for him to come home, so you can really put this thing past you and go back to normal. 

He peeks in through the door with a gentle smile and presents a bouquet - yellow peonies.

"I think roses are the official flower of apology, but I know how you love these."

“He’s not mad, thank God, he’s not mad…” 

"I don't know what came over me”, he starts, coming up to you. “It must be all the stress at work, with the buy-out and I… I would never hurt you! When I saw that look in your eyes I couldn’t believe what I was doing-”

“Why didn’t you call me all day?”, you ask, teary-eyed with relief.

“I wanted to, sweetie, but I...every time I picked up the phone I saw that look and I didn’t know what to say… I’ll never hurt you again, I swear.”

“You real...really scared me”, you manage to say through choppy breaths.

“I know. I’ll do whatever you want, give you anything you want”, he says, hugging you tightly “...just forgive me.”

You don’t take pleasure in seeing him distraught, but note that suddenly the roles are reversed - he’s the one pleading, and you have the power to lift him up.

“You have to promise me, Baekhyun.”

“I promise, sweetie. I promise..!”

He tips your head up by the chin:

“You believe me, right?"

With such sincerity in his eyes and tremble in his voice, how could you not?

“Good”, he says when you nod, giving you your long awaited kiss. “I’m so sorry…”

“Let’s...”, you exhale deeply, turning to the mirror again.“Let’s not talk about it anymore, okay?”

“Sure. What are you up to?”

“I'm just deciding what to wear. We have to be at my mum's in forty-five minutes, so if you're gonna shower before we go…”

Coming up to stand behind you in the mirror, the way he puts his hands on your shoulders makes you wince, if ever so slightly. But he doesn't notice. 

"Do you really think it's a good idea for us to go over there today? I think we could really need this time for ourselves. Don't you agree?"

"But I've already told her we're coming over…"

"I know, but with everything that's been going on… Tell you what...You go put these in water and I'll give her a call, tell her I've got a migraine."

"I have to get Gawa, she's had him four days already", you say, happy to have found a good reason for going over.

"She won't mind will she?", he asks, spinning you around to look you in the eyes. "Aren't I as important as him? I've really missed you today, sweetie."

You don't want to upset him again, and you've really missed him too. So you give in. 

Curled up on the sofa with your head on Baekhyun's chest, his fingers are playing with your hair.

"Sweetie? Have you thought about maybe letting your mum have Gawa?"

"Have him? Past tomorrow?"

"Keep him. For good, I mean."

"What? No, why?"

"Don't get upset", he says soothing you. "I don't mean he can't come over from time to time."

A sickening feeling creeps into your heart, but not wanting to risk another fight so soon you hold your tongue. Nonchalantly flipping through the channels on the TV he adds:

"We don't have to decide anything now. It's just...something to think about."

                                            ¤¤ 

  Drying your hands after finishing up the dishes at your mom's you hear Baekhyun from the living room:

"... to have him full time."

Your stomach's in knots as you join them. Baekhyun smiles and grabs your hand. 

"I was just telling your mom how we think she should keep Gawa - if you want to, of course", he adds thoughtfully, looking at your mom. 

"But he's your everything, honey", your mom, correctly, points out. "Why would you ev-"

She cuts herself off with eyes growing wide.

"Are you pregnant..!? Oh, oh..!", she blurts out before you can stop her.

"No!"

Baekhyun bursts out laughing, pulling you to sit on his lap.

"Not yet, mother. But who knows, might not be too long before you hear the tapping of little feet around here…", he jokes.

At least you hope he is. Not feeling entirely comfortable with the turn the conversation has taken, you get up, calling Gawa to you. 

"Well, I guess we should be going, mom. Come on, Baekhyun, Ga'."

There's a flicker in Baekhyun's eyes, but you know he won't make a scene in front of your mom.

"We'll give you some time to think about it", he says, hugging her goodbye. 

You can feel the cold emanating from him like dry ice in the elevator. 

"I'll drop you off at home before I head into the office", he says, clearing his throat. 

"It's Saturday, you're off."

"I might as well get some work done if you don't want to be with me. If you choose that animal over me."

                                         ¤¤

  Forty-eight hours ago you had been looking forward to the weekend; visiting your mom with your handsome, successful boyfriend and winding down with the love of your life - Gawa. But nothing had gone the way you had imagined. Even after the incident it was as if Baekhyun hadn't let go of your arm, keeping you under his eye and forcing you to prove your loyalty to him. But then again, you had just been through something big, however short it was. It was only natural he'd want a little more attention from you than normal, right? He probably didn't mean for you to give Gawa up for good, it was just bad wording. He loved seeing you happy, why else would he buy you flowers and jewellery, insist that you cut back your hours at work to be home more, call you every other hour to say hi? 

  Thinking about it in those terms made it simple - if not easy - for you to do what he wanted. Because he was what you wanted, wasn't he? So, not having told him you were returning Gawa to your mom the same day you were waiting for him to come back home. What had started as excitement about pleasing him had, as the hours passed, turned into a tremendously guilty conscience and now, lying in bed as he approaches, you can't even pretend to be happy.

"Why is it so dark in here?", he asks, throwing his blazer on the bed. "Where's Ga'? Gawa..!", he calls.

"He's not here", you answer him, your back still turned against him. "He's with mom…"

"Oh, sweetie", he sighs, laying down behind you, giving you a kiss on the neck. "I didn't mean for you to take him back today. Turn around, let me see that pretty face. That's better", he says, brushing the hair out of your eyes.

"My red eyes and runny nose is better?", you pout, partly fishing for a compliment. 

"Mm-hm. Of course I don't like to see you sad, but I really appreciate what you've done. It shows that you respect me. That you really care about me."

Little by little his words push away your melancholy. The way he's looking at you now, with his gentle brown eyes and sweet smile, prickles your skin. This is the reaction you had wanted from him.

"And besides…", he continues, slipping his hand under your t-shirt "I've been thinking about what your mother said… About a baby."

"No. Baekhyun, that's insane. That’s…"

"Why? Too soon? Who decides that? Look...", he says, nudging your t-shirt up to show your stomach "...can't you imagine a little Baekhyun growing in here? Or my daughter? Walking in the park with the stroller, showing the baby to everyone at work… I’d show you off to everyone the minute I found out."

“Aeh..”, you swat your hand as he gets up, but when he’s out of the room you scrunch your face with delight at the thought of it. Somehow you can see it. But in your stomach isn't just the butterflies of an imagined little life - it’s the whispered knowledge that you've left the right love behind.

#baekhyun #baekhyun angst #baekhyun scenario