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studioghibelli · 3 months

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bewitched, bothered, bewildered.

a joel miller x reader

summary: after your parents leave on a cruise for winter break, your best friend sarah invites you over to her house for the holidays. she failed to mention her father is the hottest man in the world.

warnings: best friends dad!joel, slight canon divergence as in Sarah is college aged come 2023, a big phat girthed up age gap, alcohol consumption, reader has just gotten out of a relationship, various media references, smut (fingering, female masturbation, f receiving oral, dirty talk, pet names, tiniest sir kink.) mdni!

note: this could be a series. i’m not too sure right now. let me know if you’d be interested in this as multiple parts!

You had never been to Texas before.

Tales of obnoxiously large barbecues, ten gallon hats, and vast, desert plains where rattlesnakes roamed freely filled your mind. Sticky sweet iced tea, kind old women who called everyone “honey”, and dry, arid heat were also things you associated with Texas.

And, sure, Texas was hot and humid as hell.

But it was beautiful.

While the plane made its final descent down to the Austin airport, your eyes took in the most beautiful sunset you had ever gazed upon, never before seeing oranges and reds quite as beautiful. By the time you deplaned, the deep navy of the night sky showcased millions of glimmering stars. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw so many stars. It must have been ages, but nonetheless they had ignited you with a sense of wonder.

“It’s about an hour, to my place.” Sarah warned, standing by your side as you both waited to catch sight of your luggage.

You nodded a bit, patiently looking to see your dark teal suitcase pass through the conveyor belt.

“Hey,” she nudged you in the side, causing you to glance her way. “Are you still thinking about your ex? Not good for you, so you better stop.”

“What if we were soulmates?” You grumbled, knowing how stupid you sounded. Your shoulders slumped forward. You didn’t actually think that idiot was the person you would spend the rest of your life with, but it was nice to have someone. To have… your person.

“If you two were soulmates, you wouldn’t have been broken up with. Now would you?” Sarah smiled sadly, gently patting your head. “Winter break is a month long. Who knows? Someone here might catch your eye!”

You rolled said eyes at her wiggling brows, grumbling beneath your breath. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe.”

“My dad has loads of hot guys working for him. They stop by the house sometimes, maybe you could…. I don’t know- waltz downstairs wearing a tight shirt and stick your ass out.” She wiggled her butt against you with a faux-seductive dance move.

“Sarah!” You laughed, gently pushing her shoulder.

“Dad says he should be here in about 5 minutes. Oh! There’s our bags.”

You grabbed your luggage in unison, lugging them off the machine before rolling through the crowds of people, no doubt travelling to and fro for the holidays.

“Look for a black Chevy!” She warned as you walked outside.

“I don’t know what that looks like!” You shouted earnestly, over the hustle and bustle of the pick up area.

Sarah looked at you, before rolling her eyes with a laugh. “There he is!” She waved both her hands towards a truck in the distance. You watched as it pulled to the curb, windows tinted black. When the driver door opened you heard Hank Williams crooning from the stereo, still unable to see the figure that was Sarah’s dad.

The shadow on the sidewalk was broad as it made its way towards the two of you, and when you finally dragged your eyes up, you saw Joel Miller in all his glory.

Tall, rugged, a little rough around the edges- but undeniably handsome. He wore a regular tan crew neck underneath a brown flannel, jeans spread out tight against his thick thighs, with the pointed toes of two leather boots sticking out. His dark hair, littered with strands of drool worthy gray, was slicked back from a fresh shower, one stray curl managing to sneak its way out.

And when he stepped closer, you smelled him. God, you smelled him. He wore just the right amount of cologne, and it made your knees weak. Joel smelled like woody vanilla, swirling with cracks of cardamom and whiffs of lavender tinted flowers of iris. You almost moaned. He smelled delicious.

Joel greeted Sarah, but quite honestly you were too overwhelmed to hear anything they were saying. And then he turned to you.

You.

“Hello.” He smiled a bit, eyes glimmering with something you couldn’t quite pin point. “I’m Joel. It’s real nice to have you stayin’ with us.”

You smiled. A real smile. He was kind, too? What a fucking dream. “Thank you.” After telling him your name you went to pick up your luggage, before a hand grabbed your arm gently.

His hand. Well worked, rough, calloused- an honest pair of hands that were scarred by a lifetime of hard work. Honorable hands. Sexy hands.

“There ain’t no way I’m lettin’ a pretty thing like you lift that suitcase all by herself. You’re in Texas now, honey. Don’t you know we practically invented gentlemen down here?” He joked, grabbing your bag and tenderly sitting it down in the bed of his Chevy.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I guess I’ll just let you do everything for me, since you’re a gentleman and such.” You teased. You watched the hint of a smile ghost across his lips.

“Well, you might just have to, darlin’.” With a wink that made your belly tighten, he opened the door for you, and you joined Sarah in the backseat.

“Dad, what the hell are you listening to?”

“Hank Williams.” You both said in unison. He put his eyes on you from the mirror, winking at you.

“Bring this one around more, Sarah. I like her.”

Sarah smiled, looking at you with love sparkling in her eyes. The kind of love that only existed between two bonded women, the kind of love that only two girls in a deep, genuine friendship could share. You smiled, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Dad, you know she just got dumped.”

“Sarah!” You guffawed. And that special moment was over. Tenderness now replaced with annoyance.

“Who got broken up with?”

Sarah nudged her head towards you.

“Her?!” He spoke incredulously. As if Joel could not wrap his head around the idea of someone ever leaving you.

You buried your hot face in your hands, mumbling a bit. “Was a fucking jerk.” You grumbled after a long moment of silence, pulling away from your palms to look out the window, watching the city pass by.

“Must have been, breakin’ your heart.”

“Dad, you have no clue. So it all started-” As Sarah started explaining your past relationship and breakup, you watched the backdrop of Austin rush past your window.

Beautiful buildings shimmering in the night, the distant noise of the city clamoring, vibrant grass and trees scattered about. It was stunning, alive, noisy. It was nothing like what people had described Texas as. And the only person who had called you ‘honey’ so far, was your best friend’s hot dad.

You pulled away from where you looked, coming back in to reality. Sarah was still going on and on with her drama spilling. Joel was still listening, or at least looked like he was listening. His plush lips were cemented into a tight line, eyes dark and focused on the highway ahead. He met your gaze in his rearview mirror once again, and the tightness of his furrowed brow softened momentarily. You offered him a hint of a smile, and he gladly took it.

“So, what’re you majoring in?” He asks you. You didn’t quite catch his question. You were examining how his hands looked around the steering wheel as he turned it, the way the pad of his thumb caressed the leather, the way his thighs looked spread out against the brown of the sleek seat. God. Was it normal to wish you were a fucking steering wheel?

You clenched your thighs together. You wondered if he noticed. He seemed rather perceptive.

“I’m sorry sir, what did you ask, Mr. Miller?”

Joel swallowed thickly, sucking in a sharp breath. “Joel, please. Call me Joel. I asked what you’re studyin’, back at school.”

Sarah laughed a bit, not looking up from her phone. “What isn’t she studying?”

You grinned a toothy grin at the comment. “It’s true. I’ve changed my major loads of times. I started with French, then anthropology. Now I’m stuck between film and history. There are a lot of things I love learning about. I just…. want to see the world, experience it all.” You explained softly, looking out the window as you thought. “It’s kind of hard to focus on one thing when your heart is all over the place. Y’know?”

Joel nodded a bit, clearing his throat. “You sound way smarter than me. Been contractin’ my whole life. Nothin’ special like French or history.” You giggled to yourself at the way he pronounced ‘French’, his Texan accent thick on the syllables.

“Contracting is honest work. Takes a big, strong man, you know? It can’t be easy. I admire that.” You hummed. Your eyes met once again. Joel’s tongue flicked across his lower lip, nostrils slightly flared.

Sarah was none the wiser, scrolling through her phone. You hummed a bit, settling in to your seat. By the time you looked at Sarah, she was passed out, fast asleep.

“So,” Joel began, turning on to a dirt road. You saw a few cows in the pasture fast asleep, the moon hanging above them. It looked like something from a storybook. “You heartbroken’ over this break up?”

You thought for a moment. “I don’t…. really know. It’s just weird…. it’s- it’s like I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. Like, yeah, I was cheated on, then dumped. But we did everything together. Went out, grabbed dinner, saw movies. I just don’t know what to fill that up with. I do all those things with Sarah, obviously, but it’ll still be weird. I don’t know. I’m rambling.” You huffed out a breath of air you had been holding, shrugging a bit. “Probably sounds stupid.”

“It ain’t stupid.” Joel reassured softly, his deep voice rumbled like a song through your ears, filling your mind with symphonies and day dreams. Day dreams of feeling his mouth on your own, hearing that voice from behind your back while he took you- wait, what? No! He was Sarah’s dad! You shook the thoughts away. “Don’t uh….” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t feel bad for feelin’ any sort of way. Alright?”

As he pulled into the driveway of his home, you nodded slowly. “I’ll try not to.”

“Do or do not, there is no try.”

You laughed. “Star Wars! I love Star Wars.” You cooed, rubbing a hand down your cheek in an attempt to stifle your giggles.

“Sarah would never watch it with me. Been beggin’ her for years.” Joel admitted through a cracked grin.

“Well, I’ll watch it with you.”

Joel shot you that glance once more. “I’d like that.”

Was it a date? No. Surely not? Stop getting ahead of yourself! You took in a deep, shaky breath, gulping down a thick lump that had been forming. No. Calm down. There was no way.

Sarah woke up with a yawn, smiling when she realized the truck had finally pulled in to the driveway.

Joel helped you all unload your things, showing you to the guest room. “Feel free to help yourself to anything. Fridge, drinks. In the garage we got beers and some of them fruity mixers that Sarah likes. Our home is your home.” He explained, extending that Southern hospitality that you had heard so much about.

You felt your body warming up. “Thank you.”

“And, uh….” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost nervously. “I’ll be downstairs in the livin’ room watchin’ some movies, if you want to join me.”

WHAT?!

“Okay. Sure. I’d like that.” You said calmly, stiffly, and definitely not using a oh-my-god-did-he-really-say-that tone of voice. Nope. Not you. Not at all.

“Don’t feel pressured or nothin’. Just a thought.”

Before you could respond, Joel had walked through the hall and down the stairs. You threw on your pajamas, a simple pair of fleece bottoms and a tank top, rolling the thought over in your head. It would be nice, to sit next to him, hear his laugh, cast glances at his side profile. But you weren’t too sure if you could be trusted. Just out of a relationship, full of emotion, irrevocably attracted to this man….. No. No. It wasn’t a good idea. What if you did something you regretted?

So you climbed in to bed, shutting your eyes tight.

And then thirty minutes passed, and your eyes were wide open.

And then an hour passed, and your eyes were still wide opened.

What-fucking-ever.

You threw the covers off with a huff and walked out of your room, quiet as not to wake Sarah. She had had a rough finals week, and you knew she needed a good night’s rest. You on the other hand? Your body was aflame, every nerve lit up like a Christmas tree by Joel’s charming laugh, perfect hands, stern face. God. Why was he so attractive? So alluring? You buried your face in your hands as you shuffled down the hallway.

You were really doing this.

You reached the couch, and saw Joel watching the television, strong arm thrown across the back of it.

“Uhm, Mr- Uh, Joel?”

He turned to look at you, and you noticed a smirk tease the corner of his lips. “Well, hello darlin’. Started to think you weren’t goin’ to take me up on my offer.” Joel patted the empty space beside him. The couch was small, meant for two people.

You weren’t complaining.

“Yeah, well.” You let out a nervous giggle, sitting down beside him. “Couldn’t sleep, so.”

“Oh. So you’re tellin’ me I’m your rebound?” He joked.

“Yeah. Sorry… I’m real desperate these days.” You teased back, holding an embroidered pillow to your chest.

Joel chuckled a deep, beautiful, throaty chuckle, his arm not moving from the back of the couch, brushing every so often against your shoulder blades. “Do you want a drink?” He asked, turning to look at you.

“Sure.” You smiled softly at him, eyes lingering for a few beats to long. He shook his head a bit, as though he were thinking something he really shouldn’t be thinking, before looking away. A moment of awkward silence fell between you two.

Without missing a beat, he slapped his hands on his knees through a deep sigh, getting up and walking to the garage. When he came back, he had a six pack of beer in one hand, and a box of pre-mixed Strawberry Daiquiris in the other.

“Didn’t know which one to grab for you. A bit of everythin’, I suppose.” He sat the cartons in front of you, and you opted for the Daiquiri.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” He grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels. “Anythin’ sound good?”

You hummed out in thought, eyeing all the movies. “Oh! Stepbrothers! That’s a good one.”

He looked at you. “Really?” He teased dryly.

“Sarah and I quote it all the time.”

Joel nodded for a moment, before turning to you, a serious look on his face. “Did you… touch my drum set?”

A long bout of silence passed, before you took in a deep breath and looked up at him. “No.”

He furrowed his eyebrows together, clicking his tongue. “It’s just weird, cause it seems like someone definitely touched my drum set.”

“Yeah, that is weird, cause I didn’t touch them.”

You stared at each other intensely, both feigning fake anger, before you broke out into giggles. He shook his head with a chuckle.

“So, Stepbrothers then-”

“Oh!” You cut him off excitedly. “Look! The Empire Strikes Back!”

He hummed in agreement, clicking it on. You both got settled in, your shoulder touching his side, his arm thrown behind your back again. Comfortable silence blanketed the room, and you took in the scene around you.

A small living room, a flat screen propped on a wooden console that looked handmade, a nice rug spread out over the hardwood floors. There were some car magazines on the table, a pair of work boots sitting in the corner. It smelled like him, and his electrifying cologne. It felt like him, too. Masculine, woody, comfortable. It was incredible.

You had finished the box of drinks before the end of the movie, and by the time Han Solo was frozen solid in his fancy little fridge, you were crying your eyes out.

Not because of the movie.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Joel’s eyes slightly widened as he turned to you. “Hey, honey, what’s the matter?”

You sniffled, face planting in to his chest. You were tipsy, the newest recipient of a so called broken heart, and he was warm. So, so warm. Without missing a beat, Joel’s arms wrapped around you, his grip tight and secure. You had never felt more protected, more wanted, more cared for.

“Shh, it’s okay.” His long fingers ran through your hair, gentle and soothing. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m such an idiot.” You grumbled into his husky chest, no doubt leaving a stain of tears. “I should have seen it coming. Everyone warned me about… about… even Sarah knew. But I didn’t listen. And now I’m here, crying to my best friend’s dad who is way too hot for his own good, full of all these feelings, and-and-….. oh, fuck.” You realized what had spilled from your mouth, pulling away sheepishly and stuffing the pillow in your face.

Joel sat for a moment, wordlessly, slowly looking at you. He gently pushed the pillow away before his index and thumb grabbed your chin, demanding and gentle, tilting your gaze to meet his own. “Too hot for my own good, huh?”

Your face heated up with embarrassment. You wanted to recoil away, maybe throw up a little. You wanted to climb beneath the couch and die there. Anything but own up to your words.

“It’s okay. Think you’re the first of Sarah’s friends to get a little crush on me?” He joked softly, gently rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

A pinch of jealousy surged through you. It wasn’t making you feel any better. You sniffled loudly, your eyelashes fluttering.

“I will say, you are the first of Sarah’s friends I’ve…. well, you’re beautiful. And smart. And, you know.” Joel paused, clearing his mind. He was usually much better with his words. “Look, darlin’. I like you, a lot. And I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you or anythin’, but I can help with that broken heart of yours.”

A gulp of air caught in your chest. With shaking hands, you gently grabbed his own, pulling him closer to you. A deep breath, and then: “Please. Help me forget.”

Joel chuckled, his palm dragging down the side of your body. “I can do that.”

His lips met yours. Hungry, passionate, deep. Joel kissed you like he’d never kiss again, and you happily let him, lips parting, heart mending. He pushed you down onto the soft couch with his weight hovering above your own, fingers tangling into your hair. He wanted you. All of you.

“Can I touch you?” He asked softly, hand moving down to your pajama pants.

“Please.” It came out choked, a plea, a prayer.

He pushed your pants down, allowing you to kick them off, before his palm found your core. Hot, soaked, weeping for him. He groaned, gently rubbing your swollen clit from behind the material of your underwear.

“God damn, girl.” He smirked, eyes darkening. “This all for me?”

You nodded meekly, the inside of your cheek caught between your molars. “Touch me.” You begged.

“Here?” He whispered, his thumb dragging across your soaked slit, over the cotton material.

“Anywhere. Just, please- make me cum.”

“Oh, I’ll make you cum alright, girl. But you’re going to have to stay quiet for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

He pushed your legs back, slipping between them as he lowered himself, now face to face with your pussy. Joel slipped your underwear to the side, his tongue sweeping across his lower lip, before leaning forward and taking your clit in his mouth. You shuddered at the contact, groaning softly.

“I think,” he whispered quietly, your ears straining to hear him, “I want you to rub this pretty clit while I finger fuck your pussy.”

You groaned softly, eyes blown wide and dark, as you slowly sat yourself up on your elbows. “Ye-yes sir.” It just slipped out. You were too horny to care.

A guttural hiss seeped through his teeth. “I like that.” He warned deeply. “Go on, rub it for me.”

You lowered your shaking hand, the tip of your index slowly tracing up the length of your clit. It was screaming, begging, throbbing for any semblance of pleasure.

Joel’s eyes were on you.

He was inspecting your every movement like a panther stalking its prey, eyes full of lust, tongue dripping with desire.

You took in a sharp breath before rubbing your bud between your index and middle finger, a soft breath leaving you.

“Good girl. Good girl.” He praised, middle finger sinking in to your tight cunt. Joel sighed out a string of curses. “You’re fuckin’ tight, baby. That little pussy is drippin’ for me.”

“For you.” You whispered.

He looked up at you as he kissed your thigh, biting down on the soft, supple flesh. “You’re fuckin’ delicious.”

You threw your head back at his words, hips bucking. You felt your orgasm growing nearer, stomach tensing. Joel pushed your hand away, and you jerked your head to look at him, so quick it almost gave you whiplash.

“Sorry, I just can’t help myself.” He leaned forward, sucking at your clit again, his tongue swirling and flattening against it. Joel knew what he was doing.

As his finger still hit inside of you, you brought your hands down to his hair, tugging at his curls, the once slicked style now rampant and messy. You tried to stop yourself from moaning too loud, fearful of waking Sarah, but how could you not?

Joel fucking Miller, the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on, was worshipping your pussy. You shivered, thighs clenching.

He was worshipping your pussy.

His hot tongue felt like Heaven against you, and Joel was eating you like a starved man, like your cunt was the nectar of the gods. He did what your ex had never done before- he made you feel wanted, made you feel desired.

Joel moaned into your pink flesh, sucking and licking, nibbling and swirling, until your stomach grew tight with a looming climax.

God, he was good at this.

“Gonna cum. G-gonna cum, Jo- oh, oh. Oh.” You hummed out in relief as your orgasm washed over you, eyes widening as he continued licking, sucking, finger fucking- he didn’t care that you were getting sensitive. All he cared about was you. Your sweet pussy, delicious cum, soft folds- he wanted all of it.

“Fuck, you taste good.” He whispered, bringing himself away from your core. “Sweet little thing, ain’t ya?”

Your cheeks heated, and you slowly sat up, legs still shaking. “Jesus Christ.”

Joel chuckled, reaching towards you as he fixed a few strands of messy hair. “Yeah, Jesus Christ.”

You stared at one another for a moment before he tackled you with a deep kiss, hungry and crazed. You wasted no time kissing back, feeling the outline of his cock on your bare thigh. You gasped for air at the touch, already knowing he was big, thick, perfect.

Your hand was moving towards his shirt before the hallway light switched on.

“Fuck. Here.” He tossed you your pants and you quickly slipped them on, resuming your positions on the couch as normally as possible.

As Sarah walked down the stairs, your chest tightened with a sudden realization.

This was going to be a great winter break… if you made it out in one piece, that is.

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steviebears · 2 years

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That's My Girl

SYNOPSIS: Being Steve's ex was not easy, especially now that you are with "freak Eddie". Steve regrets how he treated you and wants you back.

GENRE: angst, fluff

"Max, I haven't been to a party since I broke up with Steve. What if I forget how to... I don't know, be human?" The redhead snorts and rolls her eyes at you. You sigh and look back in the mirror, holding two dresses up to yourself.

"Go with the black." she says in reference to the tight black dress you've held up.

"Yeah?"

"Wear it with your leather jacket." She suggests, nodding her head to the coat rack. You nodded and slipped on the dress.

"What if Steve is there?" You ask worryingly, making eye contact through the mirror.

"Just be normal, he'll be normal too." You bit your lip. Would he? He didn't take the breakup very well at first.

You stand near the hallway, bored out of your mind. You never realized how much you relied on Steve to be social. He's been sneaking glances at you all night. It turns into genuine staring, and just as you're about to leave from being so uncomfortable, a certain someone burst through the door. Eddie "the freak" Munson. You didn't think this was his scene, in fact you knew it wasn't.

He enters with his arms fully out, stepping in theatrically.

"Well well well, all of Hawkins finest all in one place! I must be so lucky to have been invited." He says making eye contact with one of the cheerleaders who had clearly invited him as a joke. A few people shout out insults that seem to bounce right off of him. He chuckles and starts to walk past, but catches a look at you and hangs behind.

"Y/n? Didn't think this was your scene." he says with a sly look. You had a few classes with Eddie last year, you got along quite well.

"Could say the same about you, Munson." You say, taking a sip from your red solo cup. You look over and catch Steve staring. He looks away quickly, but not quick enough to miss Eddie's gaze. You shut your eyes a sigh. He notices you displeased reaction and takes a gamble.

"You know, I never thought he was the right guy for you." He says, looking at the teen and his great hair.

"Yeah, well. I certainly am not the right girl for him." You take another drink. Your relationship with Steve was great when it started. You had great chemistry and cared about each other. But soon, he became distracted. He missed phone calls, bailed out of dates and seemed disinterested in you overall. All because he never got over Nancy. Once the initial attraction to you wore off all he was left with was his love for Nancy. You weren't stupid, so you realized and dumped him. He was clearly still in denial of it himself, insisting he didn't love her. But you knew it was true.

"If it's any consolation, you've always been my dream girl." He confesses with a chuckle. Your eyes widen and blush creeps its way to your face.

"No way, really?" You questions with an incredulous look. He nodded with a smile.

"Had a huge crush on you last year." He looks relieved but nervous about his sudden confession and he fakes a cough.

"Me too." You return his feeling. He steps closer to you.

"I was going to ask you out, but then you got together with the hair." You pursed your lips and frowned a bit, looking down to your feet.

"how about we get you a drink?" You offer.

"I'd rather share yours." He says, gently taking you cup from your hands and taking a sip. You smile wide.

That was the start of your relationship with Eddie. Soon enough you moved in together and were having the time of your lives together, falling deeper in love with one another each day. He made you feel like the only girl in the world.

"When I saw her at that party, I don't know something inside of me just fell into place. And I knew I had to get her back." Steve says with a sigh as Robin hoists herself atop the counter.

"So? Get her back then."

"She's with Eddie now." He whines rubbing his face.

"No shit, Eddie Munson?" He nods and slides down the counter. Robin raises her eyebrows and shakes her head.

"I don't know what to do. Something about her Robin, I just can't let her go. I can't believe how stupid I was." Robin turns to him, curious.

"Stupid?" He nods again.

"Stupid. She gave me everything and I mean, I was still in love with Nancy. And she totally knew it so she dumped me. Didn't realize what I had til' it was gone." Robin gives a sympathetic look to him.

The door rings as two people step in; you and Eddie. You give a smile to robin and a little wave, meanwhile Eddie gives a polite and tight lipped grin to Steve. Steve doesn't miss the way Eddie's grip on your waist tightens when he sees him.

Steve cannot keep his eyes off of you. The way you giggle when Eddie seemingly suggests a stupid movie, the way you hit his shoulder playfully when he teases you. That should be him. He misses you.

Eddie settles behind you with his chin leaning on your forehead, arms wrapped around you while you browse the horror collection. The jealousy hit's Steve's heart hard, and Eddie notices. Eddie looks over to see Steve staring and he doesn't hesitate to send a glare back. Normally Eddie would be very civil with his partner's ex, but after knowing how Steve treated you and made you feel he couldn't play nice, especially not when he looked at you the way he did.

Steve looks away and to Robin who was looking very uncomfortable with the tension, tension you were entirely unaware of. Steve gets frustrated from seeing you looking utterly in love with each other and leaves to the back.

You tried to convince Eddie to go to your friend's birthday party but to no avail. As much as he loved you he really didn't feel like listening to the name calling today. You understood, of course, and decided to just go without him. He helped you pick out your outfit (not without him feeling you up) and you drove off, looking forward to seeing the friends you hadn't seen since graduation. You knew Steve would be there but it didnt bother you very much. You were sure he wouldn't say much more than a greeting.

The staring begun again, and Steve couldn't stand to see you without him. So without warning, he pulls you to the side.

"Oh. Hey Steve."

"I can't stand it anymore."You cock your head to the side and raise an eyebrow questioningly.

"Please Y/n, just hear me out. I just need you to hear what I have to say." You rub your arm, feeling on the spot. You nod at him to continue.

"I know I fucked up, trust me I know. But I just don't want to be without you anymore. Just let me show you I love you." He pleads, looking straight into you.

"Steve, stop being ridiculous. I have a boyfriend." You scoff, turning to walk away before you are stopped by Steve blocking your path.

"I know. And I don't-" He sighs and pinches his nosebridge.

"I don't care. Just one night, that's all I ask. Just one night to let me show you how much I love you. I need you in my arms again." His voice breaks to a whisper. You couldn't believe the disrespect Steve just showed your relationship. To think he could ask you to cheat on Eddie and just switch back to him was frankly insulting. So your face morphs to a genuine frown and your eyebrows furrow before your hand swiftly slaps the the side of Steve's face, harder than you meant to.

"Fuck you Steve." You spit, turning around to exit the now silent party. He tries to stop you from leaving, grabbing your arm and telling you,

"It was never Nancy, Y/n. It's always been you." His sudden confession has you feeling feelings you had when you were with Steve. Feelings of always being the second choice. Feeling like your own partner didn't love you. You couldn't help but let the tears of frustration for your younger self spill and you slammed the door in Steve's face.

"Hey, princess. How'd it go?" You just sigh and hug him, starting to feel your eyes well up again. Once he heard your sniffling his eyes widened and hugged you tighter, holding your head in his chest.

"What happened baby?" His low voice soothes you. You take a deep breath.

"Steve was there." Eddie leans back, wanting to see your face. His heart hurts at the sight of your red eyes.

"What the hell did he do?" He can't help but start to get heated, his desire to protect you taking over.

"He- I don't know. It doesn't matter, it was stupid." He can tell you're holding back. He doesn't have to say anything more, only looking at you with the softest of looks until you tell him.

"He asked me to cheat on you, with him. Something about showing me his love." Eddie is furious, but more than that, frustrated and sad for you.

"Are you being serious, I swear to fuck I'll-"

"I took care of it." You assure him. He couldn't help but smile. How could he think even for a second you wouldn't?

"I slapped him, harder than I thought and I think I made it pretty clear I wasn't interested." You say with stern tone. He grins wide and proud, pulling you into his arms.

"That's my girl."

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jupitercomet · 1 year

Text

The Starry Night

summary - You’re not enough for him because of something you can’t even control. And if he truly felt that way, you wish he would have never started anything with you in the first place.

“Fuck you, Bradley.” You seethe, turning to the bedroom with a finality. Your hand wraps around the door knob before you stop yourself. “You know, for a guy who hates making mistakes he has to apologize for, you’re really fucking good at it.”

Bradley’s always been good at saying things he doesn’t mean, and maybe this one he can’t take back.

warnings - age gap relationship (Bradley is 38, reader is 25), language, angst, references to mental illness, listen the lock thing is a bit of a stretch but plot > realism

word count - 3.5k

part two i ain’t worried ‘bout it masterlist

“Would you stop?” Bradley follows you out of the Bronco as you slam the passenger door “You’re being—” He cuts himself off and you whirl around.

“What? I’m being what, Bradley?” You spit the words out like venom. “Please, enlighten me.”

Bradley kisses his teeth with his tongue. “You’re being childish.”

Even though you knew the words were coming, it takes a second for them to hit and you laugh hollowly. “Right.” Tears prick at your waterline. “I’m being childish because I’m upset my boyfriend ignored me the entire night.”

“Oh, is that what you call slamming car doors and throwing a tantrum? Being ‘upset’?”

You purse your lips trying to hold back the angry tears that are threatening to spill down your cheeks as you open the front door. You don’t really want to hash all of this out in front of Bradley’s neighbors—the last thing you need is to make tonight more embarrassing.

Bradley scoffs. “What? Are you ignoring me now?” He follows you into the house, shutting and locking the door behind him as you rip your sandals off.

Whipping around again, you fully intend to bite his head off, but you stop yourself, taking a deep breath. “I don’t think I can be around you right now. Because I know I’m going to say something I don’t mean and I don’t want to do that. We should talk about this when we’ve both calmed down.”

With that, you walk out of the foyer and turn with every intention of get out of your sundress and take a long, destressing shower—

“That’s fucking bullshit.” Bradley’s words have you freezing in the hallway. “I’m so sick of you doing this whole thing where you act like you’re better than me.”

You look at him incredulously. “How am I acting like I’m better than you?”

“Because you’re so smart and you never get mad, right? You’re too good to fight with me, and I’m always the one who makes mistakes and gets angry and has to apologize!”

“Are you seriously mad at me for being a healthy communicator?” Your eyebrows jump in disbelief.

“You’re not!” Bradley’s voice has finally risen to a shout. “You’re not a healthy communicator, you run away from confrontation. Deciding that we’ll just never fight isn’t being a healthy communicator.”

You don’t understand how Bradley can misconstrued your intentions so much, but the heat of the setting San Diego sun and the embarrassment and hurt radiating off of you makes you more desperate than proactive. “I am not running away! I just know that we’re both angry right now and that isn’t going to solve anything. I don’t want one of us to say something we can’t take back.”

“You’re the one who started this in the first place! You can’t just accuse me of shit and then leave.”

“You know what? Fine. If you wanna fight, we can fight. You ignored me the entire night, Bradley! To talk to your ex-girlfriend. In what capacity do you think that’s appropriate?” You take a step towards him, your bare feet planting on the hardwood.

Bradley scoffs. “I did not ignore you. And last time I checked, you can’t dictate who I talk to. She came up to me and said hi, do you really expect me to just pretend she isn’t there?”

“No, but I expect you to try and bring me into the conversation, or notice when I leave, or not let her be all over you,” you list on your fingers accusingly. “You didn’t even fucking introduce me as your girlfriend! And I just had to sit there the whole time feeling like you were ashamed to be seen with me.”

“Oh, come on—”

You narrow your eyes. “I wasn’t finished, Bradley. You made me feel like you didn’t want your ex-girlfriend to know that you’re now with a woman a decade younger than you! That it’s embarrassing to move on from someone like her to someone like me—”

“Well, when you act like this, it is!” Bradley’s mouth closes as soon as he tastes the words on his tongue but it’s too late, they’ve already been said.

They hang in the air and you honestly don’t think Bradley could have said something more hurtful to you if he tried. You feel pathetic in the salmon colored sundress you’d been so excited to wear to Bradley’s high school reunion—the dress he’d been so excited to see you in just a handful of hours prior—like a little girl playing dress up.

Bradley’s embarrassed of you. Enough so that he let you stand there, all by yourself, as fellow members of his graduating class made disgusting jokes about how “you must be lost, sweetheart, the school’s closed for current students” that you had to laugh along at uncomfortably, while he let some woman hang off his arm because she looks better there than you do. You’re not enough for him because of something you can’t even control. And if he truly felt that way, you wish he would have never started anything with you in the first place.

You cry for a good hour and a half, rolled over on Bradley’s side of the bed, his pillow held to your chest as you curl up on your side. The bedroom door is locked and Bradley has made no attempt to enter the room yet. Your salmon sundress is a puddle on the floor, you can’t be bothered to hang it up—you don’t know if you even want to wear it again.

By now, you’ve stopped crying, maybe you’ve simply run out of tears. You just hold Bradley’s pillow and stare at the wall blankly. Your head’s a tornado, ripping up every memory of you and Bradley and swirling them around in this unsure windstorm. It tears apart each one, looking at the mangled pieces for anything that could reaffirm what Bradley had so kindly let you know tonight. That he’s ashamed of you. That you embarrass him. That, to him, you’re just a kid.

“Honey?” Suddenly there’s a soft knock on the bedroom door and you tense. “Can… Can I come in?”

Bradley waits several minutes, but you don’t say anything—you don’t even move. You hear him let out a soft sigh.

“I’m sorry, I should have never— You were just trying to handle this maturely and you were right, I wasn’t ready to talk. I— I should have never said that to you and I swear I didn’t even mean it. I’m so sorry, honey.”

You want to hate him, in some twisted way it makes it all easier. Because you hate feeling like this—like there’s something you’re missing, like you’re the outsider to an inside joke you just can’t understand. And you didn’t used to feel this way, not before Bradley. You didn’t feel like you were running in a race where everyone else had a head start. A race you didn’t even ask to be in.

But you do it anyway because you love Bradley. You put up with people looking down on you like you’re some little girl who doesn’t know better, who couldn’t possibly have anything to offer Bradley intellectually and emotionally. You feel like you constantly have to prove to everyone that you’re worthy of being in a relationship with him. And maybe you aren’t. Because if he’s so quick to use your age against you whenever it’s convenient, then there’s nothing you could ever do that would be enough for him. You’re too young and you’re not enough for him.

You hear what sounds like Bradley sucking in a breath as he tries again. “You’re unique in all the world to me.”

And that’s what does it. Eight words, so quiet and hopeful, and your heart breaks in two. You burst into tears so suddenly it surprises even you as you bury your head into Bradley’s pillow. It’s the gross, intense kind of crying with hiccuped breath, and puffy cheeks, and a nose that won’t stop running as tears wet Bradley’s pillowcase.

“Honey? Shit—” The door knob jiggles as Bradley’s voice rises in panic. “Princess, I know you’re mad at me, but please let me in. I can’t—”

Maybe you are childish and immature, just a kid throwing a tantrum all because someone wasn’t nice to her. Because you don’t want to open the door for Bradley, even though you know you should. You just want to cry and feel sorry for yourself until this feeling goes away. You just want Bradley hurt the same way he hurt you.

You hear the door knob jiggle again and, in the back of your head, you recall something about Bradley once learning how to pick locks—something about growing up with “Uncle Mav”. Bradley confirms it when the door clicks open suddenly and he rushes into the room, but you can’t even bring yourself to care anymore, unable to do anything but sob into his pillow.

“Oh, honey,” Bradley drops to his knees, gently coaxing his pillow from your grip so that he can pull you into his arms. He maneuvers you both so that he’s sitting on the bed, back resting against the headboard while you cry into his chest. “I’m so, so sorry, pretty girl.”

And you know that he is. From the second it left his lips, you knew he was sorry. But it doesn’t change the fact that he said it. That either, even just for a second, he meant it or he knew that it would hurt you and he wanted it to.

Something soft brushes your hand and you grab for it before you fully realize what it is. “You, um, you left him on the couch, I thought…” Bradley doesn’t finish his whispered thought, watching as you cry painfully into Pooh’s fur.

He doesn’t know what to do—and it frustrates Bradley to no end because he feels like he never does. But you’re letting him hold you and Bradley knows he has no right to ask for more, so that’s what he does. And his heart breaks with every strangled breath you let out, every tremor of your body as you unleash everything you’ve been feeling for the past 7 months.

Bradley just keeps whispering how sorry he is. How he didn’t mean it—how he’d never mean it. He wants nothing more than to take it back. Because the more he sits with you, the more he starts to think that he might have just pushed you a step too far to pull you back from.

One thing that has always been like a breath of fresh air to Bradley is your emotional maturity. You’re healthy. Bradley’s always been a bit hotheaded, always saying things just to say them, only to hate himself after. But you’re clear, even when you’re angry. You treat Bradley with respect and you show him how to do that too. You communicate and you do your best to honestly understand where he’s coming from. And, if things ever do go too far, you still try to work through it because you love him more than you’re mad at him and he loves you more than he’s mad at you too.

But right now, no matter how much he tries, he can’t coax words out of you. Even after you stop crying, you stare at the wall wordlessly. Bradley’s not entirely sure you hear him, your entire body unresponsive. You’re letting him hold you, but maybe that’s just because there’s nothing left in you to fight him on that too.

“Honey?” Again, he calls out to you, because he’s so used to you letting him clean up his messes. He’s so used to feeling like you think he’s worth fixing things.

Because you’re so much better than Bradley in that way, you think about his feelings so effortlessly. And sometimes he resents that. That you love him so good, it sometimes makes him feel bad. Why is it so easy for you to love him the right way when he can go an entire night making you feel insufficient and not even realize it?

Sometimes Bradley feels like you’re too mature for him. Like you understand things that he doesn’t and you know things that he never learned—you are smarter than him. And sometimes Bradley’s pride can’t take it, because he wants to be that person. Who understands his emotions so easily and articulates them like he walked out of a self-help book. Instead, he’s the person who has to watch all his flaws and mistakes turn you into an empty, indifferent husk. He’s the person who says things and then has to listen to you cry.

“Please, princess, can you talk to me?” Bradley hates this. He hates knowing he hurt you, but not what’s going on in your head. He hates that he has no idea how to fix it. “You can yell at me. Call me an asshole. Just—” There’s a soft crack in his voice and his eyes water. “Talk to me please.”

He thinks that surely you’ll say something. He’s begging now, and you’ve both had time to think, and you never like leaving fights unresolved. But you say nothing, still staring numbly at his wall. Bradley feels his heart drop to his stomach.

He knows what he said was wrong and hurtful, he knows that. But this time, it almost feels different, like he’s fucked up in a way he hasn’t fully realized yet. Because you don’t do the silent treatment. You talk to Bradley or, if you feel like you can’t, you tell him as much. You’ve never ignored Bradley out of spite. So this can’t be spite—Bradley feels like it’s something worse.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to hate being in my 20s this much.” Your voice finally comes out, small and sniffly, a hollow sound as you continue staring at the wall.

Bradley swallows thickly. “What— What do you mean, honey?”

“I’m just really tired,” you continue and it’s like you don’t even hear him. “Of having to be perfect all the time so you’ll be proud of me.”

“Princess, I am proud—”

“I’m tired of having to impress your friends even though they act more immature than I do. And I go to all these stupid things with you, and I let them talk over me, and belittle me, and make me feel like a child… What did I do to deserve that?” Your voice wobbles, breaking at the end, and Bradley tightens his grip around you.

“Nothing. Honey, you didn’t do anything to deserve that,” Bradley assures you, his own voice wavering. “And I’m so, so sorry I didn’t realize that you were feeling this way—”

“You make me wish I were older. I think I’d be enough for you if I were older.”

Bradley feels sick, shaking his head vigorously as tears prick his waterline. “No. No, you’re enough for me now, honey. Don’t say that, please— How can I fix this? Just let me fix this.”

“I’m tired, Bradley. I want to go to bed,” you sigh.

“I don’t want you to go to bed feeling like this,” Bradley’s tentative with how he argues with you, but it’s almost scary to hear you sound so numb and exhausted, so indifferent to the idea of him, like maybe he isn’t worth all the trouble of loving. “Can… Can we talk some more? Or— Or I can talk and—”

“I just want to sleep.”

And after everything he’s put you through tonight, Bradley can’t ask you for more. So he relents, letting you roll off him and get settled in his side of the bed. Your back is facing him as Bradley wordlessly takes your side. He watches as your middle rises and falls, unable to take his eyes off you but too afraid to hold you like he wants to.

Your breath evens out relatively quickly, Bradley’s watching you so intently he can pinpoint the exact moment you fall asleep. His mind is too restless to follow suit though, too focused on replaying every moment of the night. Why hadn’t he noticed how uncomfortable you were tonight? Why had he spent the whole night talking to Hannah without realizing he’d left you on your own? Why couldn’t he have just said he was sorry, instead of making everything worse?

Bradley gets up, careful to make sure he doesn’t disturb you. You cried a lot, he reasons, you’d probably want some water when you woke up. And Bradley’s too restless. He couldn’t risk waking you and having you decide that you don’t even want to stay at his house at all.

Now at the foot of his bed, Bradley looks at you again. You look so small under his blanket, your eyes and cheeks puffy and wet as they press against the damp fur of your favorite stuffed animal. You’re still beautiful of course, but a different kind of beautiful. A sad kind of beautiful—like The Starry Night, Bradley thinks.

Bradley had never really been into art, and he’s sure no one expects him to be, but you love art. Once he had surprised you with tickets to a van Gogh exhibit at the San Diego Museum of Art and the way you lit up the entire room with your smile had Bradley deciding that he’d walk through every art museum on the planet with you just to see you smile like that again. And in going to this museum with you, Bradley learned that maybe he did like art after all—but only when he was with you. Because your love for art wasn’t pretentious. You didn’t force him to stare at one painting for half an hour as you contrived meaning from every brush stroke and color choice. You just liked to look at it.

But Bradley will never forget the moment the two of you stopped at one of the few paintings in the exhibit he’d actually seen before and you pursed your lips gently.

“I’ve always had mixed feelings about Starry Night.”

Bradley turns his head away from the painting to look at you. “In what way?”

“I don’t know. I guess, for me, it’s always represented how selfish we can be as people,” you shrug.

Bradley squints at the painting, tilting his head slightly as he tries to understand what you’re seeing in the brush strokes that he’s missing. What’s so selfish about a painting of the night sky?

“It’s pretty well known that van Gogh wasn’t… doing well when he painted Starry Night,” you gesture slightly to your ear. “And that, actually, painting might have been making it worse, with everything that’s in the paint and stuff. And that’s part of the reason why Vincent van Gogh went through a lot of pain and suffering over the course of his life. But, even knowing that, you know what we say? We say, ‘well, if he hadn’t, we never would have gotten The Starry Night’. As if this painting,” you stop to point at the canvas in front of you, “is somehow worth all that suffering just because we find it beautiful. I just feel that it’s an awful, awful thing to be grateful for someone else’s pain solely because it created something we think is beautiful.”

Bradley has long since stopped looking at the painting, watching your profile as your eyes rake over the colors and shapes thoughtfully. You fiddle with the strap of your purse.

“I don’t know— For all I know, van Gogh could disagree, but I think I’d rather be happy than beautiful.”

And that’s the kind of beautiful Bradley sees when he looks at you asleep in his bed. The kind of beautiful that hurts. The kind of beautiful that only ever shows itself because Bradley’s selfish. He’d rather have you, sad and beautiful, than not know of your beauty at all.

But Bradley wants to have you happy. He wants you to be the kind of happy that lights up rooms because he got you tickets to an art exhibit. The kind of happy that makes his heart skip a beat when you walk into the living room in your salmon colored sundress.

He hopes that, in the morning, you’ll wake up not as tired with him and he’ll be able to fix things. To make it up to you the way he should have when you first started acting different in the car. Bradley has always been so sure that the two of you could work through anything. That you love each other more than you’re mad at each other. That you want to fix things more than you want them to just stop.

Now, as he watches you like The Starry Night, Bradley hopes more than anything that that’s still true.

I don’t have a taglist but feel free to follow my library @jupitercometgold if you want to be notified when I post

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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year

Text

Never Meant to See You Again

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend, Jake Seresin, confesses how he really feels. Meanwhile, it's raining, so he looks sexy af doing it.

CW: ANGST - sorry, my loves. I know it's Valentine's season but sometimes you just wanna hurt so good.

WC: 1600+

This fic was written for @roosterforme's love is in the air tgm challenge! Inspired by the song I Wish It Would Rain Down by Phil Collins.

Masterlist

“Hey!” you hear the desperation in his voice even with the deafening wind. “Y/N!” he shouts when you don’t stop walking. “Will you just” – he pleads, the sound of his voice growing closer despite your quickening pace – “Just for one second, just” –

You feel his hand close around your arm and you whip your head around. Jake watches you with a grimace as the wind pummels his face. “What?” you ask aggressively.

Jake lets go of you and shrugs, spreading his arms to indicate that he hasn’t thought this far ahead. “We have to coexist, Y/N.”

“Great,” you respond. “Let’s do that.” You start walking again – briskly because the sky is darkening and your hair is starting to escape its bun and swipe violently at your face.

You hear him sighing just before a boom of thunder drowns out his approaching footsteps. He falls in step with you despite you trying to keep your distance. “We’re on the same team,” he says, loudly enough that you can hear him despite the howling wind.

You glance up at him distrustfully as he slows his pace to meet your gaze.

“Y/N,” he starts again.

“Don’t.” You shake your head, tearing your eyes away from his overgrowth of stubble, still walking.

“Look,” he says, taking a hold of your arm again to get your attention. “I know that you don’t need me,” he pauses, watching you steadily. “You don’t need me in your life.” He sighs, regret stealing over his features. “But you might still need me up there.” He points up at the rolling clouds overhead with the same hand that’s holding his helmet, because his other one is still firmly wrapped around your forearm.

You glare at him mutely. Jake Seresin might have been a shitty boyfriend, but he’s a hell of a pilot and you know that he’s right.

Jake lets out a resigned breath. “Wasn’t my idea. I never meant to see you again, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s temporary,” he says and you wonder if he’s referring to the mission you’ve both been called back for or him calling you ‘babe’.

“We should go inside,” you say stoically as the weather that’s put your training on hold for the day deteriorates further.

Jake nods, his eyes still lingering on yours, stalling. He takes a moment to run a hand through his hair, longer these days but no less obnoxiously becoming. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Not now, Seresin,” you say flatly, starting for the hangar again. You feel the first drop of rain land on your forehead.

“Y/N,” he says.

You turn to see him standing there defeatedly, watching you with a miserable expression. You can tell that he’s still hurting and, despite utterly hating his guts, it isn’t easy to see him in pain. The year of distance has tempered your loathing, much to your dismay, and now you find yourself almost feeling sorry for the man. Almost. “Was there something else?” you ask, trying to keep your breathing steady as you meet his gaze.

He gives you a small smile. “Just that, it’s good to see you.”

You exhale sharply as his words send a jolt through your body. “It’s starting to rain,” you state, wavering on the spot while Jake stands perfectly still. Further down the flightline, the maintenance crews are retreating after having secured the last of the equipment before the storm.

Jake takes a step forward while you focus on remaining upright against the gusts of wind. But his growing proximity isn’t helping you feel steady on your feet.

You let him come right up to you before finally taking a step back. “I’m not getting caught out in this storm,” you say, retreating.

Jake glances up at the skies as though he’s welcoming the impending shower. “It’s just a bit of water,” he says as the rain starts coming down harder. “It’ll be over soon enough.”

But he knows as well as you do that you aren’t one to wait around, hoping that the storm will pass. You don’t have that kind of patience. “I can be civil,” you call, walking backward as the downpour intensifies.

Jake watches you through the heavy rain pelting the tarmac. You try to catch your breath as it washes over your face and trickles past the collar of your flight suit, soaking your undershirt. “Me too,” he responds.

You flex your hands, curling them into fists as your pace slows to a halt when you see that Jake isn’t budging. When he finally takes a step forward, you sigh, trying to summon the hatred you once felt toward him. Unfortunately, all you can muster is despair.

Jake is moving slowly, as though he’s half-expecting you to run, but the truth is, you can’t move a muscle because you’re entranced. It’s ridiculous how attractive he looks with rainwater dripping from his soaking hair. He approaches cautiously, his eyes meeting yours as he presses his lips together solemnly. “I let you down,” he says, his eyebrows converging as he frowns. “And I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I know that. I’m not expecting it.”

You clench your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling as your eyes well up. Finally, the pouring rain exhibits an advantage – masking your falling tears.

“But I need you to know that I am sorry,” he continues, his eyes searching your face. “I’m an idiot for ever letting you go.”

You lower your gaze, blinking through the water – whether it’s tears or rain is irrelevant at this point. Jake’s hands come up and he places them on your arms, so gently that you wouldn’t feel them if you weren’t watching them in action. You let out a shaky sigh as he takes another step forward and, when he presses his lips to the top of your head, you squeeze your eyes shut.

“God, I missed you,” he breathes as his mouth moves to your forehead.

You shake your head, lifting your face to grace him with a reproachful look. You’ve spent an entire year getting over him. Twelve months coping with the pain of losing your best friend. Three hundred and sixty-five days adjusting to his absence. And he has the nerve to tell you that he’s missed you? “Come on, Jake,” you say, not quite able to suppress the hint of malice in your tone. “Doesn’t look like this rain is going to be letting up anytime soon.”

Jake studies your face. “One day, maybe.”

You scoff. “Meanwhile, it’s getting uncomfortable.”

Jake smiles sadly. “I don’t mind it,” he says. “As long as I’m with you.”

You take a step back. “You’re not.”

“I know.”

You let out another frustrated sigh but you can’t seem to hold it together any longer. Dropping your helmet into the puddle at your feet, you break down in tears.

Immediately, Jake closes the gap between the two of you and takes your face in his hands, his eyes flitting between yours urgently despite the wall of rain between you. “Please don’t,” he begs, his face contorted as he tries to hold back tears of his own. “Please.” He rests his forehead over yours.

You push at him and back away. “Then stop!” you yell, your words barely audible over the pouring rain. “Stop making me hurt!”

Jake bows his head, running a hand over his face as his shoulders start to shake. When he glances up at you, his eyes are red and shining. “I can’t stop, Y/N,” he croaks, his voice breaking when he says your name. “I love you.”

You roll your eyes and let out a spiteful laugh but, when Jake steps forward again, cupping his hands around your cheeks, you bite into your bottom lip, falling silent.

“You might not need me anymore,” he says, “but I still need you. And I know that’s selfish, and I know that it’s never gonna happen, but I’m not gonna stand here and pretend to be okay. I’m not okay.”

You watch him solemnly, trying to subdue the trembling of your body. Whether it’s the rain or his words causing you to vibrate uncontrollably is anybody’s guess.

“I’m never getting over you,” he whispers, his lips hovering just over your mouth.

It’s taking all of your strength to hold back a sob; to keep from falling into his arms and letting him shelter you from the rain. Jake has always been an expert at testing your self-control. “We should go,” you mutter. “Before this storm gets any worse.”

Jake sighs over your lips. “It’s just rain, baby,” he whispers. “It’s always gonna pass.”

You close your eyes, feeling yourself submitting to his pull. “It’s getting cold,” you counter.

“I can warm you,” he breathes.

And suddenly, you’re letting out a whimper and grabbing a hold of his flight suit and drawing him impossibly close. At the same time, Jake lifts your face, finally locking his lips with yours. His kiss is so needy, so fevered that it’s making your head spin. His hands leave your face as he wraps his arms around your neck, moving further into you as your fingers clasp behind his back, squeezing him against your body.

You aren’t thinking about the past when his tongue is pushing urgently against your own. You aren’t thinking about the future when your palms travel up his chest, slipping up the wet skin of his neck until your hands are on his face, your fingers stroking the stubble on his jawline. The storm is far from over but perhaps you’ve got what it takes to ride it out.

Jake clutches your waist as he layers your mouth with kiss after kiss. “Oh, baby,” he mutters apologetically. “Baby, I swear I never meant to see you again.”

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hugshughes · 1 month

Text

Casual J. McCarthy

JJ McCarthy x fem!reader

synopsis - Although your relationship with JJ has always been categorized as no strings attached, the way he makes you feel is anything but casual.

wc - 4.6k

contains - she's angsty :( takes place in a universe where JJ and Katya broke up during like spring 2023!!! friends with benefits but more!!! "casual" relationship that acts like more, cursing, kissing, making out, reader's not great family life is mentioned once or twice, sex references (no elicit smut!), caught feelings, arguing, misunderstanding, shouting, eating, crying, hurt with comfort??? i think that's it!!! lmk!

an - wowwwwww this oneeeee. this took me so long to write like SO FUCKING LONG. started it, got sick, got better, wrote some more, got sick again, got better, THEN FINALLY FINISHED! ummmm idk... OH! i was surprised with tickets to Olivia Rodrigo and flew out to her Charlotte show A WEEK AFTER I COME BACK FROM THERE FOR SPRING BREAK to go with my favorite person ever! and Chappell Roan is her opener currently and SHE PLAYED CASUAL AND I CRIED.

my friends call me a loser, 'cause i'm still hanging around.

You often got shit from your friends over your relationship with JJ McCarthy. If you could even truly call it a relationship. The two of you had gotten "together" around the beginning of the school year. He'd followed you on Instagram after meeting at a party. How romantic?

He and his long term girlfriend, Katya had broken up about 6 months prior and the boy was not ready for another true commitment of any kind. You'd also gotten dumped by your boyfriend of over two years over the summer, so honestly neither were you.

You two were strictly casual. Just two not quite friends but also definitely not dating kids who made out and fucked, but also cuddled and kissed each other with no sinful intentions. He took you on dates but God forbid you call him your boyfriend.

i've heard so many rumors, that i'm just a girl that you bang on your couch.

You knew people talked about you two. Girls at parties and in random classes in hushed conversations while they glared into the back of your skulls.

"No, she's not like his girlfriend. She's like his no strings attached side piece or something."

Your eye twitched when you heard it whispered all too loudly behind you in a marketing class. You sighed and shrunk into your chair, reminding yourself that you were gonna private your Instagram.

JJ treated you like his girlfriend, point-blank. It wasn't even like a switch from in private to in public. He always did. But nevertheless he always said that it was all informal. There had been many nights where you stayed up questioning it all. Was you falling sleep on his chest while he played with your hair and kissed your head just another Saturday night for him?

i thought you thought of me better. someone you couldn't lose.

JJ made you feel special, like you were special to him. Special was something you didn't feel often, not after how your ex treated you. You were lucky to even get the bare minimum from him, yet you stayed because he made you believe that was what you deserved.

You and JJ both truly cared about each other. Even though you two were not together, you guys did everything two people that were together did. You went on dates, went together everywhere, cuddled, kissed, had long conversations. It was hard to not imagine how it would feel for him to really be your boyfriend.

You remember the night JJ unknowingly broke your heart. You were at a party, and you'd left to get drinks for the two of you. You were walking back over when you heard one of JJ's friends ask a stupid question.

"Where's your little girlfriend, Jay?"

"Oh, we're not together."

you said "we're not together". so now when we kiss, i have anger issues.

He laughed awkwardly as he said it, rubbing the back of his neck. You turned around and explored the rest of the party for a little while before going back over to JJ. When you returned and stuck a can in his hand, he pulled your arm towards him and kissed you deeply. It was a good kiss, all kisses with JJ were, but it left you hurting.

you said, "baby, no attachment",

It was always the same with JJ. There would be a long while where you and him were in a blissful and amazing haze of acting like a couple without having to be one. Then someone would ruin everything by asking if you were together, causing you two to realize you acted too much like a couple.

You and JJ trusted each other entirely. You'd seen every inch of each other. Helped each other through the bad days, all of it. You'd held him in your arms while he cried over the pressure he felt because of football. You cheered him on at every game. You spent countless nights in each other's beds. He listened while you talked for hours about problems with your family.

but we're... knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out.

You'd done stuff with JJ you'd never have the heart to repeat to anyone. You got closer to each other than you'd ever been with anyone else, and still there was a strict separation between you.

Your head often drifted to one of the many nights you spent in intimacy with JJ. Flashes of you in the backseat of his truck, in his bed, his shower, all of the above. You never let the words JJ said to you while he groaned above you in bed get to your head. You wanted to believe them, but knew you were better off to not. He made you the happiest you'd ever been while also making you completely miserable sometimes.

is it casual now?

Over the winter JJ had even brought you to dinner with his family. You'd met his parents, and his sisters, and they immediately fell in love with you. They assumed you were his girlfriend, though he never actually said that. They were so glad to see their boy so incredibly happy after being in the dumps over Katya all summer.

You remember at that same dinner freezing in your seat when his mom had what she felt was a bright idea.

"Oh, JJ, she should come to the beach this summer!"

You had to awkwardly laugh it off, throwing a joking 'Maybe!' out as his sisters boasted about how that was a great idea. JJ smiled uncouthly, laughing and carelessly nodding his head. You knew that topic would never be brought up, JJ would definitely not be asking you to spend the summer with him.

two weeks and your mom invites me, to her house in Long Beach. is it casual now?

You liked to pretend he was your boyfriend, it wasn't that hard most of the time. You were exclusive with each other, that was made clear at the beginning of your "relationship". JJ said something about how he wasn't the type to see more than one girl, and that you were that girl for him.

You were the one with him when he won the National Championship. He'd invited you to sit with his family. Like, what the fuck? How were you supposed to not be in love with him?

You knew JJ only wanted something casual. You tried not to think about how he was probably just with you to get over his ex. He told you about her, sometimes. He said how he thought he was gonna marry her, but she didn't want that. You couldn't imagine why. JJ was everything you'd ever need in a man. He was stable, and loyal, and made you laugh so hard you cried. He cared for you, no matter the status of your relationship.

i know what you tell your friends. it's casual, if it's casual now. but baby, get me off again. if it's casual, it's casual now.

What you had going on with JJ was great, and you were in no position to ruin it with your stupid feelings. You didn't really care what you were, as long as it was with JJ.

Now you were getting ready to go over to JJ's apartment for the night. He invited you over a couple hours ago, telling you he wanted to watch some movies and hang out with you. Of course you said yes, how could you not? He'd just finished up with the NFL Combine a couple days ago. And spring break had just ended so you hadn't seen him since before then, you were excited.

You adjusted your hair for the fourteenth time before you were satisfied. You would only be going from your place to the car to JJ's apartment. You still wanted him to think you looked good, good enough to be more than just his fling.

You grabbed your small overnight bag filled with the barebones of your necessities and left your apartment, swiftly locking the door behind you.

You listened to low music while you drove lowly through the college town. It was only a seven minute drive, so you got there right away. You parked your car and sat for a second as you were overcome with a random wave of dejection. You took a deep breath, your brain reminding your heart not to get too excited. You shook off the feeling, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat and exiting your car, locking it behind you.

You knocked lightly on the door you'd walked through all too many times. Barely ten seconds passed before the door opened, a bubbly dirty blonde with the cutest smile you'd ever seen standing opposite you. JJ immediately grabbed you by the hips, pulling you to hug him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking your head into his shoulder. You let yourself believe all the stupid fantasies for just a second.

dumb love, i love being stupid.

"Missed you, gorgeous."

dream of us in a year.

You shut your eyes, squeezing him. He giggled, turning his head to kiss your neck. You felt his smile against your flushed skin.

"I missed you."

He held you tighter, pulling away to kiss your forehead and grab your hand. He shut the door behind you and pulled you further into his apartment. He led you to his bedroom before dropping your hand, turning to go back to the front of the apartment. You dropped your bag next to his bathroom door before taking your shoes off and tucking them just underneath his bed so they were out of the way.

maybe we'd have an apartment. and you'd show me off to your friends at the pier.

"How're you doin' pretty?"

JJ's voice echoed from the kitchen, you could literally hear his smile.

"'M doin' okay! Nothing new, y'know."

JJ heard something different in your voice. Something other than happiness, which obviously concerned him. You sat back on his bed, sighing.

"What's wrong? Sure you're good?"

"Yeah, it's fine! Some shit happened over spring break so I've just been a little out of it is all. Don't worry!"

The blonde came through the doorway again, this time holding a plastic bag with a logo you knew all too well. You gave him a smile that didn't aid his now worried mind.

"What happened? You could've called me."

"Oh come on, Jay. You were literally at the NFL Combine. I was not about to distract you with my stupid problems."

It's not like I'm your girlfriend. JJ shook his head as he sat the bag next to you, turning to open his closet door and rummage through his clothes.

"You can always call me. I wanna hear about all of your problems. You're my best friend, y'know."

i know, "baby, no attachment." but we're...

You winced, fuck. The man you were certain you were in love with just 100% friend zoned you. Just his best friend that he kissed, laid skin to skin with, told his family about.

knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out.

"I know! But still, you're Mr. National Champion and I'm not gonna bother you with dumb things."

"You're never bothering me. You don't bother me."

He came out of his closet, now shirtless and in new sweatpants. His eyes found yours and he raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to agree with him.

"Okay, okay, whatever. Come eat."

He climbed over you onto "his" side of his bed. You ate while asking him about the combine, as if you hadn't watched the videos of JJ's performance. You definitely appreciated how he looked in his tight red shirt.

"It was fun, nerve wracking as hell though. Kinda like made me realize that like I actually am going to the NFL. It's a lot closer than it feels."

He could say that again. You knew your time with JJ was coming to its end. Whenever he got drafted to an NFL team he wasn't gonna keep wanting a random girl from his old college. Not one that wasn't actually his girlfriend or anything. He'd find another one very quickly, you knew it.

"That's so scary. I couldn't imagine that. Having so many people depend on you for their happiness is too much. But you're good at it."

He threw you a smile, moving closer to you.

"I just love it. It's so fun for me. Obviously not like losing but having so much support is actually really nice sometimes."

You nodded, trying to fathom how it was possible for the boy to be so positive always. You both were done eating so JJ took all of your trash and threw everything into the garbage. When he came back he pulled you closer to him, your head on his shoulder and your back to his chest.

"But enough about football. How was spring break? D'you have fun?"

"Um, yeah! For the most part it was really fun. Florida was fun but when I went home for the last three days it was honestly the worst. My mom was so mean for no reason the whole time, I don't know."

He ran his hands over the tops of your thighs before wrapping his arms around your hips. He kissed the side of your head sweetly, not moving as he spoke into your hair.

"'M sorry baby. Y'don't deserve that."

"Eh it's whatever. I'm used to her not being my biggest fan at this point."

JJ felt so bad. He couldn't relate to you on this level. He'd never know what it feels like to not have good parents.

"Well if it helps any, my mom's your biggest fan, to be completely honest. She keeps texting me to make sure you know you're invited to the beach this summer."

two weeks and your mom invites me, to her house in Long Beach.

It comforted and hurt you all the same. There's no way you could accept that invitation, no matter how sweet it was. You couldn't survive a week with his family while still only being casual. No way in hell.

"That's really sweet, Jay."

You shifted in his arms, turning so your cheek laid against his bare chest. You smiled and lightly kissed his pec.

is it casual now?

"So, what are we watching, Jay?"

"Whatever you want."

It was just another small thing that made you fall harder for him. You didn't know how much longer you could pretend like you didn't want him more than physically.

"How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days?"

"Are you plotting or somethin'?"

You can't lose something that isn't yours. Your smile faltered but you let out a forced giggle, telling JJ to just play the movie. You watched the majority of the movie in silence, answering JJ's questions whenever he had them. At some point the movie got boring, you'd seen it a million times before. You started running your nails over JJ's pec, unknowingly distracting him. He traced his hand up your back and to your hand on his chest, interlocking his with yours.

i know what you tell your friends. it's casual, if it's casual now.

You leaned away from him just a bit to look him in the eyes. You stared at each other for just a few seconds, just until JJ took his hand out of yours, grabbing ahold of your jaw. The thoughts filling your mind seemed to quiet down as JJ kissed you. The kiss quickly grew hot as JJ's hands traveled back down your body. Your tongue hit the seam of his lips, a downright immoral sound leaving his mouth.

You shifted onto your knees over JJ, the connection between you persistent. Your hands ran through his hair, tugging slightly at the dirty blonde locks.

but baby, get me off again. if it's casual, oh, oh, oh.

Your chest pressed against his as he pulled you closer, leaving no space between you. Every move of JJ's mouth and hands cushioned your spiraling thoughts, muting them. Your could focus your thinking on nothing but the physicality of the situation. Until JJ shifted his hands to the curve of your ass and gentley moved so your back was flush with his comforter, the quarterback kneeling over you. It was the position change as much as what he groaned out when your lips parted for just a moment that had you stopping in your tracks.

"Fuck, my girl."

His girl. His girl? How could you be his girl? You didn't mean to hesitate in your kiss with JJ but you did, pausing for just a second. Though it was long enough for JJ to notice and immediately grow concerned. He pulled back from you, his eyes full of worry. Did you not want this?

"Hey, what's wrong? We don't have to do anything, you know that. Right? Sorry I got carried away, baby."

He comforted you immediately, like a man who loved you would. Not like a no strings attached fuck friend would. It soothed you but also made you ache even more. Why did he have to act like he cared? It wasn't fair.

"No, Jay. Sorry, it's fine. I just,"

You trailed off, wanting to hide from his concerned blue eyes. You kind of wished he'd get pissed off that you were hesitant, asking 'The fuck is wrong with you?' instead of being the most gentle and loving person you'd ever known.

"Hey, it's more than okay. Alright? Is something else wrong?"

Yes. Something else was wrong. You're in love with JJ but he's unattainable. You wondered if he knew, if he knew and was still treating you the same just to keep you loyal. Your silence proved JJ right, something was seriously wrong.

"Talk to me, okay? I wanna make you feel better."

You finally looked into his eyes. He was now next to you, laying on his side, confused and concerned.

This is where it ends, you told yourself. There really wasn't a way around telling him, and all you could do was imagine his reaction. You sat up, crossing your legs and looking down at your hands. How the fuck were you supposed to start this? Do you just break it off with no explanation, or let him do it after you tell him you're in love?

"Well I just, I don't know if I can do this anymore, JJ. And I'm sorry, I really-"

"What? That's really not what I thought this was about."

He was shocked, his chest tightened as he leaned away from you, moving off the bed to stand. He crossed his arms over his chest for some comfort.

it's hard being casual, when my favorite bra lives in your dresser.

"JJ, I'm sorry, really. I just, we're supposed to be strictly casual and it's honestly kinda hard when we're so close to each other. Like a quarter of my clothes are in your closet! It's just kind of a lot."

You too stood from his bed, now standing on opposite sides. You didn't want to hurt JJ, but it would only hurt you worse and worse in the end if you kept letting yourself indulge in him.

"Baby, what changed? I thought everything was fine the way it was."

it's hard being casual, when i'm on the phone talking down your sister.

"Jayj, it's just kind of a lot of pressure. Like, we FaceTime your sister when we hang out! Your mom invited me to your summer vacation! Like how is that casual?"

JJ stood there, astounded. He was shocked you felt this way. He thought everything was better than okay. He would've never guessed it all felt too relationship-y for you.

"So, what? Are you like breaking up with me, or?"

"That's exactly my point, JJ! What do you mean by breaking up? There's nothing solid in between us! Our quote unquote label is 'friends that fuck but also sometimes just lay skin to skin and talk for hours on end'. That's fucking confusing JJ! I don't get you!"

and i try to be the chill girl, that holds her tongue and gives you space. i try to be the chill girl but, honestly, i'm not.

Your volume rose as felt tears pricking behind your waterline. You brought your hands to your eyes, rubbing aggressively with the heel of your palms. JJ was so hurt. He didn't think of you as just something casual, not since the very beginning had he thought you two were just random and informal. He knew you two weren't a couple, but he didn't think of you as anything near just his fuck buddy. Watching you, obviously distraught, almost crying in his bedroom over him being too much of a boyfriend had JJ rethinking himself.

"Am I too much? I thought we were more than that to you. I thought I was more than that."

"You are! You are and it's ruining my fucking life!"

knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out. two weeks and your mom invites me, to her long beach house. i know what you tell your friends. baby, get me off again.

You shouted, tears starting to fall down your face. You tried to wipe them away as you hiccuped, cutting JJ off before he could respond.

"You tell me all you want is something casual so that's what I give you! I was there when you needed it, I left you alone otherwise. But then you just didn't let me go! You make me feel important! And like I'm special to you, then I hear you tell your friends we're nothing serious! I met your family, I went to your championship game and sat with them! Do you know how fucked that is? To tell a girl that is obviously invested in you that she means something to you then doing that! I just- I really wanted you to like me, for real. And you act like you do! But I know you don't really care about what we are. I can't pretend to not like you more than that, JJ. It's not fair anymore."

i fucked you in the bathroom, when we went to dinner.

Holy shit. You'd just practically told JJ you were in love with him. He was even more confused now, was this a joke?

your parents at the table, you wonder why i'm bitter?

"What are you talking about? This hasn't been casual to me since fucking October! I do this shit because I like you! Like, I really like you! You know, before I got broken up with in February last year, I thought I was ready to fuckin' marry her. And then seven months later you come into my life, and you're supposed to be this girl that I'm not really committed to, and that distracts me from how hurt I am. But, I'm more in love with you than I ever was with her! And I thought I would spend my entire fuckin' life with her! Do you know how scary that is? That someone I've known for barely seven months is making me feel more than the girl I dated for years! I'm terrified, it fucking sucks!"

bragging to your friends, i get off when you hit it. i hate to tell the truth, but i'm sorry dude you didn't.

Your mouth fell open, pupils constricting under the haze of tears. JJ just told you he was more in love with you than the girl he thought was gonna be his wife. His tears were flowing by the end of his emotional outburst. He buried his head in his hands, turning away from you.

You couldn't believe what you'd heard. The boy you were convinced didn't want you enough to really have you had just poured his entire heart out over how much he loved you. You were in love just as hard.

You moved slowly around his bed, watching for signs of him shifting again. You gently grabbed his wrists, urging his hands from his face. You jumped to throw your arms around his neck, wrapping him in a hug. His arms wrapped around you so tightly, he cried into your shoulder.

i hate that i let this drag on so long. now, i hate myself.

"I'm sorry."

"'M so sorry."

You both let out your apologies at the same time, causing JJ to let out a wet giggle into the crook of your neck.

"I just love you so much."

Your heart squeezed as JJ spoke into your shoulder, teary and sweet. You loved him just as much. You couldn't believe what was happening.

"I've been in love with you since you took me to the lake."

You whispered it slowly, muffled by his shoulder. On that chilly day in November JJ had driven you guys an hour or so to the coast of the nearest Great Lake, Lake Erie. You ate of the sandy shore and watched the water. It was one of the first times you two were together where it really felt like you were boyfriend and girlfriend.

You'd realized he was the sweet and caring one you'd been waiting for for so long. And it ruined you.

JJ squeezed you tighter. A little sob mixed with a giggle shaking through him. He sniffed, kissing your neck gently.

"I didn't wanna believe I was in love with you, as obvious as it was. I was scared of really being in love after what had happened before. You were just so amazing, and kind, and you listened to me. I've been trying to push it away 'cause I didn't think it was how you felt. Which I can't believe you didn't just tell me, by the way."

You giggled now, pulling away from his shoulder to look at him, jaw dropping.

"Alright, Mr. I don't really need anything serious right now I'm still hurt over my ex. Yeah, sorry I never told you I was in love."

JJ just kissed you, and it felt so incredibly right. Kissing the boy you loved, in his bedroom, where half of your clothes lived. The boy who's whole family, including him, loved you and thought you were perfect for him. You smiled against his lips, you just couldn't help it.

"Can't believe you went from friend zoning me to telling me you loved me in two hours."

JJ pulled away from you abruptly, confusion filling his face.

"When did I friend zone you? I didn't do that!"

"'You can always call me. I wanna hear about all of your problems. You're my best friend, y'know.' It wasn't very soothing to a girl who was actively debating telling you she was in love with you."

"Well you are my best friend! But also the girl I want so, two for one."

You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully as you pulled him by his neck to kiss you. You both couldn't help it as you smirked and giggled into your kiss, hands and minds wandering.

JJ pulled back from you for just a second, causing you to groan.

"Can I be your boyfriend?"

Your annoyance was quickly replaced, your eyes widening. You just smiled and nodded pulling him back in.

"Duh."

Your boyfriend squeezed your ass at your playful response, kissing you deeper. Your head was spinning, JJ was finally yours, for real. You were his girlfriend and he was your boyfriend. And one day, you'd walk down the aisle with him waiting at the altar, not that either of you knew that now. So much for keeping your relationship casual?

i hate that i let this drag on so long. you can go to hell.

159 notes · View notes

woojoongstreasure · 2 months

Text

It Was Supposed To Be You | Kim Hongjoong

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Y/N runs into her ex the night before she's meant to be getting married.

Warnings: Angst turned to fluff. Ex-lovers to lovers. Swearing. Kinda run-away brideish. This is a repost from my now deactivated blog. More of an explanation in my pinned post.

Word Count: 3,013 - this is the longest imagine I've ever written. It took 4-5 days and a lot of editing. I hope you all enjoy.

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Y/N can't help but laugh at a joke told by her maid of honour. She is out for dinner and cocktails, celebrating what her friends and her older sister affectionately refer to as her "last night of freedom". Shes getting married tomorrow afternoon. Everything appears to be going well until she sees someone she never expected to see again.

Kim Hongjoong, her first and former love, is seated at a nearby table with his friends. Filled with a mix of emotions, she excuses herself from the group of women she's with, mentioning that she needs to use the restroom. She politely declines her sister’s offer to accompany her, and she walks in the opposite direction of the restrooms.

Stepping outside the restaurant into the cool night air, hoping the gentle breeze will help alleviate her overwhelming feelings, she doesn’t notice she's being followed until she hears his familiar voice. It's the same voice that she once adored and found comfort in, whether he was talking, rapping, singing, or shouting at his fellow members.

She turns to face him, unsure of what to say or do. The last time they had seen each other, it had been a whirlwind of anger and heartbreak. Determined to keep her composure, she acts as she hadn’t just seen him a minute ago. "Kim Hongjoong?"

"I heard you were back in town," he says, a look of surprise on his face. His eyes drift towards her hand, fixating on her large engagement ring. "I heard you're getting married." His eyes met hers again with a mix uncertainty and a hint of sadness. "Congratulations."

Avoiding his gaze, she glances down at her shoes and quietly thanks him.

"Are you happy?" Hongjoong is unable to stop himself from asking. Thoughts of her, her happiness, and the impending wedding have consumed his mind ever since Wooyoung shared the news with him last night.

Tears threaten to fall as she struggles to hold back her feeling as she continues to avoid his intense stare and nodded her head. She knows as soon as she looks at him, he will see the doubt written all over her face.

In the weeks leading up to her wedding day, she has been plagued with self-doubt. Is she happy? She believes so. Her fiancé is a good man who treats her well and cares for her. However, deep down, she knows he is not the one she always pictured marrying. The painful truth is that he will never be.

Because the man she had once imagined spending her life with now stands before her, igniting a whirlwind of conflicting feelings. Memories of their past relationship flood her mind, reminding her of the deep and unconditional love they once shared. It was a love that was abruptly cut short, leaving her heartbroken and longing for what could have been.

Even after meeting her fiancée and allowing herself to move on, her thoughts wandered back to Hongjoong often. But it was never intentional. She'd hear his songs on the radio, overhear teenagers at the coffee shop she worked at discussing ATEEZ's latest comeback, posters would be hung up in the music store she walked past on her way to work, and her younger sister, who was a toddler when she and Hongjoong met, will ask about him every time she visits her parent’s home.

She shakes her head, as she gathers the strength to confront her feelings. "I... I'm happy, but not as happy as I used to be," she confesses, her voice barely loud enough for him to hear her. "I was happier when we were together."

Hongjoong's eyes widen as her confession weighs heavily in the air between them. He takes a step closer, his presence enveloping her in a familiar warmth that she has missed. It's as if time stood still, and they are transported back to when their love was all-consuming.

Reaching out, he gently places a hand on her arm, offering her a comforting touch. He smiles, his eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and understanding. “I was happier when I was with you too.”

It was at that moment the tears began to fall as she finally embraced the truth – she only settled for a good man, because her heart will always belong to Hongjoong. The thought of calling off her engagement crosses her mind. Immediately after, a wave of guilt washes over her.

"It was supposed to be you," she reminds him. "I was supposed to marry you."

"I know," he says, hanging his head in shame. "But I fucked up and now you're marrying someone else."

"I am," she says trying to sound confident as she lifts her head but still won't look at him, knowing if she did, she wouldn’t be able to contain herself. "It was nice seeing you again."

Before he can reply, she turns on her heel and starts walking away from the restaurant, unable to go back inside and pretend nothing just happened.

Y/N enters her parent's home well past midnight, only to find her sister anxiously waiting for her. With a deadly expression, her sister rises from the couch to confront her.

"Where the hell have you been?" She whispers yells, making sure not to wake their parents and younger sister. “You took off from the restaurant and we couldn’t call you because you left your phone at the restaurant. We’ve been worried sick about you. I only just managed to get mum and dad to go to bed. I promised them I would stay up and wait for you.”

"I’m," Y/N lowers her head in embarrassment. She intended to message her sister, but upon reaching the park, she realized she had left her phone behind.

"What's wrong with you? Does it have something to do with Hongjoong? I saw him at the restaurant and wondered if you had seen him too."

Y/N nods in response. Even after leaving Hongjoong at the restaurant, he continued to occupy her thoughts. The more she thought about him, the more she contemplated calling off the wedding. However, guilt would always creep in, reminding her that she is marrying the man that she’s supposed to marry.

"What happened?" her sister asks, her angry expression transforming into one of concern. She’d witnessed the aftermath of Y/N and Hongjoong's breakup, so she knows how heartbroken Y/N was and hoped Hongjoong was just as heartbroken, if not more.

"Nothing," Y/N lies, brushing past her sister and heading towards her old bedroom. "I'll see you in the morning."

"But-"

Y/N cuts her sister off by closing the door, knowing that it wasn't just "nothing". Y/N had been fine before she left. Her sister was determined to uncover the truth in the morning, one way or another.

“Oh, sweetie, you look absolutely beautiful,” Y/N’s mother gushes as they stand in the living room, admiring her in the full-length mirror. Y/N just finished getting ready, with her hair and makeup perfectly done.

Y/N attempts to smile, but it quickly falters. The thought of calling off the wedding haunted her all night, as she struggled to push Hongjoong out of her mind.

She’s tried to convince herself that she is ready to move on, that her love for Hongjoong is a thing of the past. And for a while, it seemed like she had succeeded. Her fiancée become her everything.

But, as the wedding day grew nearer, doubts began to creep into her mind. She couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that maybe she hasn't fully let go of her past. When thoughts of Hongjoong resurfaced, she would find herself questioning if she was truly ready to commit her life to someone else.

It isn't fair to her fiancée, who has done nothing but love and support her. She remembers the way her fiancée's eyes light up when she said yes to marrying him. Calling of the wedding, would be an act of betrayal. But is it a betrayal she’s willing to commit?

No matter how much time passes, the memories of Hongjoong refuse to fade. From the early mornings spent together before he had to be at the studio to the late nights she’d stay awake just to make sure he went to bed and got a decent amount of sleep, to being his biggest support during his trainee days. They lingered in the deepest corners of her mind, like a constant presence that she couldn’t escape.

Their relationship had been built on love, trust, understanding, and a shared passion for everything they loved and enjoyed. It was a relationship that evolved into something more meaningful than they ever imagined it would. Despite the challenges they encountered, their commitment to each other never faltered. When he left school to pursue his dreams of becoming an idol, she was there, as his biggest supporter. Likewise, he was there as she pursued her passion in photography, a shared interest they both loved. Every moment they spent together, the good and the bad, left a mark on her heart. After their breakup, she spent so many nights replaying their memories over and over again, wondering where it all went wrong and how they could have fixed it.

With a heavy heart and tears streaming down her face, she desperately reaches behind her, struggling to find the zipper of her dress so she can take it off.

"What's the matter?" Her mom inquires, taken aback by her daughter's behaviour. She noticed her acting strangely throughout the morning, but assumed it was just pre-wedding nerves. Now, she thinks that something more that is troubling her.

The only word that she can get out is, "Hongjoong."

"What does Hongjoong have to do with anything?"

"Please just unzip my dress," Y/N pleads, frustrated with her own failed attempts and her mom's lack of help. "I need to take it off." Her voice grows louder with each word as she becomes more desperate to remove the white garment. Her cries catch the attention of her older sister, who rushes into the room concerned.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” her mom replies, “Something about Hongjoong?”

At the mention of his name, Y/N collapses to the floor, sobbing. Everything from the past few weeks comes rushing to the surface.

Her sister kneels beside her, embracing her tightly, doing her best to provide some comfort. It's been a while since she's seen Y/N this distraught. Their mother joins them, wrapping her arms around her two eldest daughters.

"Tell us what's going on, sweetheart," her mom coos, concern filling her voice. She motions for everyone else to leave the room to give them privacy. The last thing she wants is for Y/N to feel embarrassed when the gossip train, especially her cousin, starts spreading rumours.

Y/N, through her tears, lets it all out. She tells them about what happened the night before and all the ways she's felt recently. Her sister and mother listen patiently, giving her the room to speak without any interruption. As she finishes telling them everything, a feeling of calmness comes over her.

Y/N's mother, broke the silence that had fallen over them as they tried to think of something to say. "what are the odds of him showing up like that? You haven’t seen him in three years and last night he just so happened to be at the restaurant you’re at. It's like fate was giving you one last chance to reconsider.”

Her mother's words seemed to validate everything Y/N was thinking. The encounter with her ex-boyfriend, just hours before she was set to marry another man, felt like more than just a mere coincidence.

And this wasn’t coming from a place of hate, disappointment or unsupportiveness, on her mother’s behalf. While her parents think that her fiancée is a good and decent man, they had witnessed their her previous relationship, and couldn't help but notice the subtle hints that suggest she is not completely over Hongjoong. When they confronted her about it, she would shrug it off, making it seem like there is nothing to be concerned about. Their advice was not meant to discourage her from moving forward with her fiancée, but rather to ensure that she went into this new relationship with a clear and open heart.

"You're right," Y/N whispers, her voice barely loud enough for her mom and sister to hear.

Her mom reaches out and gently squeezes her hand, offering her support. "Sweetheart, sometimes we get so caught up in what we think we should do, that we forget to listen to our own hearts. It's okay to question things and to take a step back to rethink it over. This is your life. You get to choose who to spend it with.”

Tears form in Y/N's eyes once again, but this time they are tears of relief from having her family’s support. With nothing more to be said, she quickly stands up and rushes to her bedroom, searching for some clothes to change into. Her mother follows behind her and helps her out of the dress. She quickly changes and goes to leave the room but hesitates.

“What about the wedding?” she asks.

“Your father and I will handle it,” Her mom assures her. “Now go work it out with Hongjoong and call us later.”

Her hand still on the doorknob, she hesitates again as her gaze falls on the beautiful engagement ring adorning her finger. With a sigh, she gently slides the ring off her finger, feeling the weight of her decision in her hands.

Turning towards her mom, she hands her the ring. As she speaks, her words are filled with guilt, "Let him know that he deserves someone who is sure of what she wants and can give him the same love that he has given me. Tell him that I’m sorry I couldn’t be that person for him.”

Her mom nods and takes the ring. She hugs her before going back to the door. Taking a deep breath, she turns the doorknob and leaves the room.

Arriving at Hongjoong's dorm, she anxiously knocks on the door, hoping he's inside. As the door swings open, her excitement fades seeing Wooyoung standing there. It's not that she doesn’t want to see Wooyoung, she would be thrilled to see all the guys again, she was really hoping it would be Hongjoong that answered the door.

“Y/N?” Wooyoung asks with a look of disbelief. “I thought you were getting married today,” he continues as he takes her in. She’s standing there in an oversized t-shirt, a pair of denim shorts, her hair a mess and her make up smudged from the all the crying and then trying to fix it. A look of empathy crosses his face. “Are you okay?”

“Is uh… is Hongjoong here?” She asks as her, her anxiousness growing but the second.

He nods looking back towards the inside of the dorm, “I’ll go get him for you. Did you want to come in?”

She shakes her head, “I’ll stay here.”

He nods again and leaves, leaving the door open, to get Hongjoong.

A minute or so later, Hongjoong arrives at the door, the same look of surprise on his face as last night. “Shouldn’t you be getting married right now?”

Shaking her head, “I couldn’t marry him, not when the man I want to spend the rest of my life with is right here, in front of me.”

“But after everything that happened, you should hate me.”

“You weren’t the only one who fucked up, Hongjoong,” she says, her voice filled with sincerity. “Leaving you instead of fighting for you, is the biggest regret of my life. We could have worked it out but instead we let each other go. But I haven’t been able to let you go. You’re always in my mind, in my dreams and everywhere I go. Seeing you last night, made me realize that you’re the still the one who I can see myself spending the rest of my life with.”

Hongjoong's surprised expression slowly transforms into a mixture of hope and uncertainty. He takes a step closer, closing the door behind him so they could talk without the other guys being nosy. His eyes search hers for any sign of doubt.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice filled with a vulnerability he often doesn’t express. She reaches out and gently takes his hand, intertwining their fingers.

"I’ve never been more sure," she replies, her voice steady. "I love you, Hongjoong, and I want to be with you."

A wave of relief washes over Hongjoong, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "I couldn't let you go either. And I never stopped loving you."

They stand there, eyes locked together, and fingers entwined. Their past mistakes and the uncertainty of their future hangs in the air, but they both willing to fight for their love.

"Let’s start over," he finally says, with a new sense of determination.

A single tear of joy escapes her eye. Without hesitation, he reaches out, and lightly brushes away the tear. With his hand cupping her face, he leans in closer, his lips planting to hers in a soft and lingering kiss.

As they part, a smile spreads across his face, showing the happiness he's feeling right now. Seeing him smile, causes her to smile, her own happiness mirroring his.

"What's the bet the guys have are up against the door trying to listen in, right now," he chuckles, knowing his group members well enough to know they will be.

"I wouldn't past them," she agrees just as there is a loud shout from Wooyoung telling someone off for standing on his hand.

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggests, “I’m not ready to share you with them yet,” he adds earning another shout from Wooyoung and groan from the others before the door swings open and arguing ensues.

Y/N and Hongjoong, quietly sneak away, wanting to be alone for a little while longer as they talk and get to know each other again.

Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated.

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vellichxrr6782 · 11 months

Text

— all too well.

character[s] — diluc. theme & genre — lovers to exes, angst. cw/tw — very toxic diluc, fighting, self-deprecation, breakups. word count — 4.2k words. a/n — let's play a game called, "spot the references i've made to other taylor swift songs in this fic" :D | a heartfelt apology to all diluc kissers, but no apology to diluc bc he REFUSES to come home

"diluc, what the fuck?" you spat, your face showing utter disbelief.

"what?" diluc groaned, taking off his coat and setting it on the rack, "what is it now?"

"what do you mean!? did you not hear what the hell your colleagues were telling about me?" you raised a brow, crossing your arms while you leaned against the doorframe.

"what did they say?" diluc paid no heed, his face devoid of any empathy as he poured himself a glass of water.

"don't act like you weren't there." you clenched your fists, gritting your teeth. "they were making fun of me."

"you're simply overreacting." he furrowed his brows.

you and diluc had been dating for seven whole years. isn't that insane? seven years in heaven, yet these days, it started to seem more like hell. maybe you had been ignorant of all your problems for seven years, or diluc recently had a massive shift in his attitude towards you.

he treated you like a deity before, now he treated you like you were a job. like you were an obligation.

you went out for dinner with diluc's colleagues tonight, hoping it could be a nice change for you both. diluc and you had both been busy with your own things for the past few weeks, and you hoped this dinner could help you both bond.

but instead it drove you both apart even more.

"did you not fucking hear what they said? 'oh, i thought y/n had so much of experience with guys, but i was pretty shocked to find out they were often simple flings with no significance. i was surprised when she started dating you, though, i didn't think you liked girls like her' meant? huh? am i not allowed to date other people?"

"and how does that imply they were making fun of you? to me it sounds like they're just thinking about our relationship, normally."

maybe that's how you ended up in an argument with your significant other, who didn't seem to think you were significant at all. your opinion didn't matter as long as diluc had his way.

"it implies that i don't put in any effort into my relationships, diluc. it says that i go around sleeping with every man i meet. you of all people should know that that's not true." you clenched your fist, "they shouldn't be thinking about my relationship, i should. you didn't say a word to defend me."

"god, y/n, what if they were right?"

"excuse me?" your eyes widened in disbelief. "what did you just say?"

"what if they were right?" he raised his voice, standing up. he slammed the glass down on the kitchen counter, and you flinched, and noticed a small crack appear in the glass. "what if you're not putting in any effort for us? i have to do every damn thing. i need to make time for you, do you know how big of a deal that is?"

you were shocked, to say the least. where was this sudden outburst coming from? honestly, was he even listening to you right now? was he listening to himself? he sounded absurd, it was like you didn't know him anymore.

"wow, okay, if making time for your girlfriend is such a nuisance for you, then how wonderful would it be if you didn't have one at all?!" you shouted, gritting your teeth as the words left your mouth.

diluc didn't spare a second in bouncing back, as if he was speaking from the bottom of his heart, and he didn't need to think twice.

"yeah, that sounds pretty nice right about now, y/n." diluc let out a laugh, "it sounds pretty fucking nice."

your throat went dry. you felt your heart shatter. it was as if your world came crumbling down onto you, you didn't expect for him to agree with you. at a loss for words, you sharply inhaled to stop tears from falling. you felt immense anger at first, but for some reason, when he admitted that, your anger disappeared. it was replaced by hurt.

in your storm of emotions, in your speechlessness, all you could manage to utter was a broken, pathetic, "fine."

and you turned around and left out the door, grabbing your coat. you stopped there, in the doorway for a second.

just a second. one second, diluc. that's all you wanted to give him. cause no matter how much he hurt you, you still had that wretched thing in you.

hope.

you had hope, god, you had faith that diluc would call your name, apologise, you both could make it up to each other, you would apologise, and- wait, what were you even apologising for?

well, one thing was certain when you didn't hear his voice call out to you. diluc ragnvindr, for the first time in the seven years you had known him, betrayed your faith.

it had been two weeks since the fight that night. two goddamn weeks. not a single call, not a single text, not a single glance was spared for you from diluc. it was as if you didn't exist anymore.

he probably wished you didn't.

yeah, sure, couples often have their fights, their arguments. but in the end, they meet in the middle and talk it out. but what could you do when there was nothing more left to say? when every cruel claim had been made already? when it was too late?

daylight hit your drawn curtains, itching to be let into your room, but you refused. the light hurt your eyes, you'd much rather prefer to be in the darkness of your bedroom, with the only light being diluc's contact on your phone.

it baffled you how someone could pamper you and give you all their affection one moment, then completely disregard you the next. you threw your phone on your pillow, collapsing onto the bed. his words played on loop in your mind.

you wanted to cry, you really did. but the tears refused to come out, you wouldn't cry for him. especially when diluc probably doesn't feel an ounce of guilt for everything he said that night.

your phone buzzed, and you jumped to see what the notification was. your frown immediately turned into a smile when you saw diluc's name.

you picked up the call, and bated your breath.

"y/n. let's talk."

wow, couldn't he have even said hello? just cutting straight to the chase. he sounded so... demanding that it made you feel like you're the one at fault, and you owe him an apology.

"you finally came around, huh? two weeks and now you wanna apologise?" you grit your teeth, awaiting his response.

"who said i'm apologising?"

what?

"what do you... what do you mean- " you started, but paused when you heard diluc sigh.

"just come to good hunter at 2 o'clock. i'll buy you something." he hung up, not even allowing you to speak any further.

you had no choice but to listen to his bullshit.

you were seated across diluc. in silence. painful silence.

perhaps even the waitress at good hunter, who was waiting at your table, could sense it. you would've felt bad for her, but right now, you pitied yourself even more.

he looked so... dignified. he looked like he was in a completely different world from you, you felt small and meaningless compared to him. you hated it, you hated feeling that kind of worthlessness.

who knew? the same diluc who showed you the stars and showered you with fake niceties, now stole away all of that praise he'd once given.

"two black coffees." he stated, and the waitress scurried away with the order.

"you know, i can order too right? i know how to speak, thank you very much." you rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair.

diluc frowned, "i don't want to spend too much time here, let's just get this done with."

"alright, what did you wanna say to me, that isn't an apology?" you furrowed your brows, emphasising the fact that he still owed you one.

you didn't expect diluc to utter the words you had been dreading. the words that would absolutely tear you apart.

"let's break up."

you thought time came to an abrupt stop. the world stopped. your world stopped.

no.

no, no, no, no, please no.

"...what?" you almost choked, biting your lip to stop it from quivering. "you're serious?"

please, diluc, no.

"you heard me, let's break up." he wasn't even asking you, he was just demanding it. "this isn't working anymore."

this isn't working anymore, you almost would've laughed if you weren't on the brink of breaking down.

"it isn't working because you refuse to do anything from your end. you're so fucking entitled, you think you have the right to treat me like fucking shit-!" you started, your frustration seeping through your words.

"we're in public, calm down for god's sake." he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"so that's why you called me here? in public, so i wouldn't make a scene, and just quietly accept whatever you're telling me?"

"why do you always twist my intentions? i called you here because it's a place we both can go to easily. i didn't want to bring you to my place, if i was gonna break up with you anyway." diluc massaged his forehead, letting out a groan. "we're over."

he was so cruel. so, so, utterly cruel.

didn't this hurt him too? why did he look so unfazed? did he never love you to begin with...? no, that can't be true. you rememeber diluc from years ago. he was so kind, so loving. what happened to him? why did he change?

questions revolved in your head, all left unanswered when diluc willed it. he was always in charge. you were just some pathetic pawn for him, just a tool with no emotions.

"my world revolved around you for seven years, diluc. how do you expect me to throw it all away?" tears welled up in your eyes as you spoke, unable to grasp the sudden news. "if we had just tried to love each other-"

diluc's harsh tone suddenly changed into a soft one, as he said, "i don't think we should be trying to love each other, y/n." he sounded guilty, almost.

almost. you hated that word. it reminded you of a future that could've been.

"that's all i had to say to you." he claimed, "if it makes you feel better, i'm sorry."

"i don't want your fucking pity apology, diluc." you let out a scoff, "i want my seven years i wasted on you. i want them back. can you do that for me?"

"you know i can't-"

"i thought you were pretty accomplished, though? master diluc, the king of the wine industry. a strategist, a business tycoon, a master manipulator," you waved your arms around, "i never understood that last one until now."

"enough." diluc narrowed his eyes.

"yeah, enough. i've had enough." you got up, almost crashing into the waitress who was bringing your black coffee. the one you didn't even want.

it would've been childish to take the cup of black coffee and throw it on diluc. it would've been dramatic and badass though, maybe you should've done that. but you would've felt guilty about it, later. even if diluc hurt you, you would've probably thought that was too far.

fuck, why did you care? he went too far too. and he didn't apologise for it, he never felt guilty. why did you?

that really said a lot about your relationship with him, huh?

it had been exactly seven hours since you and diluc broke up. you watched as the clock struck hour nine, minute five, exactly seven hours from your break up.

you didn't know what else you were supposed to do except count every second.

lifelessly, you stared at your bedroom ceiling. you inhaled deeply, glancing towards your phone screen.

9:06, no messages.

nothing.

maybe it was wrong of you to expect something in the first place. but could you blame yourself? you loved him desperately, and the only thing you wanted was that love to be returned. you had to fight the irrational urge to call him first.

the sun went down, and your love died.

you kept your phone aside, getting up to clean your room. your head hurt seeing the terrible state of your bedroom, clothes thrown around, papers falling from drawers and the table.

sitting down, exasperated, you started folding your clothes to distract yourself from your grief.

your mind was silent, you were too tired to think anything. you were too tired to utter another word.

in your heart, you knew you were just waiting for your phone to ring, and diluc's name to show up on the caller ID.

but in your heart, you also knew that it wouldn't happen.

your eyes couldn't help but wander to one of the corners in your room in which, tucked away safely, sat a carboard box. you held you breath in contemplation. arguments were drowned out by silence, and you got up, and took out the box. opening it, your eyes focused on the collection of small trinkets and notes.

on top was a picture of you and diluc, the one you had taken on your first date. there was a note attached, with the date and diluc's handwriting, "first date, liuli pavillion."

your mind was blank, you didn't know what to think. should you smile at those fond memories, or frown cause it's gone forever? should you let out a laugh at how gullible you were, or cry because you're still gullible, and worse, probably, if you still had hope.

you found a few cassettes thrown around in the mix, labelled with the names of cliche love songs, and a "to y/n, my beloved" or "to diluc, my dearest" written.

you chose to laugh at your own incredulity. it came out pained, weak. tired.

tied with a worn-out rubber band, you saw a stack of small papers, with affirmations written on them. before diluc headed out to work, he used to write you little notes to keep you company in his absence.

adelinde probably helped him put those around the house. it ranged from simple, mundane things like "finish two bottles of water today, you can't keep forgetting", to essays and paragraphs about how much he adored you. you valued both of them equally, they really made your day.

and those notes that made you grin back then, now make you break out into a pitiful sob. you thought to yourself, you were pathetic.

it hurted so much. you couldn't explain it, but it was eating you whole. you made him your temple, your world revolved around diluc solely for seven years. now that he was gone, you didn't know what else you had left. what responsibilites, what obligations and commitments did you have now?

the gods hated you, you thought. diluc hated you too, probably. you hated yourself even more.

maybe going out for drinks wasn't a good idea. you thought it could get your mind off things, but instead, you were running straight to the problem.

you called diluc.

"diluc," you slurred, holding onto the coffee table. "i miss you."

your house was a mess, with things thrown around, a broken vase lying on the floor from when you bumped into it a few seconds ago. you got drunk, despite being a lightweight. you just needed to get your mind off everything.

but even in your subconcious, you still came back to him. that's what you hated most. and you most certainly weren't in the right state of mind to call your ex.

you could hear diluc's steady breathing from the other end of the line. he didn't respond to you, instead choosing to ask a question.

"...are you drunk?"

"no," you chuckled, "i just miss you." you were starting to have a splitting headache, so you crashed onto your sofa. you accidentally collided with the lamp next to it, and hurt your arm.

you let out a groan of pain, and diluc asked you, worry evident in his tone, "y/n?! are you fine?"

"not really..." you replied, feeling your eyes close as you dozed off in deep slumber, he could hear your soft snoring. he hung up.

around 10 minutes later, you heard the doorbell ring, but you couldn't get up to answer it. diluc opened the door, mumbling a, "god, you forgot to lock the door? what if i hadn't come?"

he rushed to your side, calling your name. "y/n, look at me." he asked, and you grabbed his hand, eyes meeting his.

"you're really here... diluc? or am i hallucinating.." you mumbled, struggling to keep your eyes open. "i'm so mad at you."

diluc's throat went dry, and he spoke, "i know."

"i really want to hate you."

"i know."

"but i can't find it in me to hate you, for some reason. i'm just really frustrated at you, for treating me this way." you gripped on his clothes, shaking. "you're the worst person i've ever known."

"i know. i'm sorry." was all he could say, as he gently wrapped an arm around your back, trying to carry you.

"you're not sorry." you replied, with a hint of sobriety. diluc couldn't respond, he didn't know how. he silently carried you to your bedroom, slowly placing you on your bed.

"it didn't hurt as much as i thought it would, when you broke up with me. in that moment, i was just angry." you confessed, "but after a few days, it hit me. the realisation that you won't be there when i wake up anymore."

he didn't know what else to say. diluc didn't even know why he came running to your house. he wasn't in love anymore. it was over for him. it would be an overstatement to say he cared, too.

maybe it was pity.

but that made him sound heartless. maybe he was.

"i was so angry at you, i thought i never wanted to see you again." you frowned. "but when my anger faded, and i felt grief instead, i wanted to come back."

"why?" he asked.

"i wanted to come back because i loved you." you raised your voice, still keeping your calm.

diluc paused, not knowing what to say. he pressed his lips into a firm line, "i guess we've found another thing we can't agree on anymore."

"get some rest." he whispered. it was definitely the effects of the alcohol you had that night, but diluc almost seemed kind. you felt like you were in the past again.

why were you still clinging onto what was long gone? it was just you. he had moved on. you should too. though it was easier said than done.

maybe, just for tonight, you'd let yourself mourn your love that died. the love that would've, could've, and should've been something beautiful.

you sat with diluc on a park bench. your scarf was tightly wrapped around your neck, and you shuddered, feeling the cold air brush past your face.

"aren't you cold?" was the first thing you said to break the silence.

"no." diluc replied.

"ah, well, i shouldn't be surprised. for some reason, you never used to get cold." you let out a small laugh, "you're like a walking heater."

"is that why you liked to hold onto me?" he spoke, gaze fixated on the concrete street, as if it was far more interesting than you. "you would say, 'you're warm'. i thought it was just an excuse for you to get hugs."

"it was." you smiled. "i just wanted to hold you, to make sure you were real."

"did you wish i wasn't?" diluc asked, meeting your eyes for the first time in the last ten minutes. "when we had that fight, i mean."

"which one, diluc?"

diluc felt a pang of regret cut through his heart.

"the one we had after we had dinner with my colleagues." he inhaled sharply, shuddering as he breathed out. it wasn't because of the cold, maybe just because of how nervous he was feeling, or because of how he was just a few words away from letting tears roll down his cheeks.

"i always wanted you to be real, 'luc. no matter how hurt i was, i always hoped you'd come back. if it was a dream, i hoped i'd never wake up." you fiddled with your fingers, your cheeks red. "i guess i thought that... if we loved each other, then we'd always come back to each other."

silence engulfed the air, suffocating you both. gripping at your necks, but your pride was too strong to let you beg for mercy, too strong to let you both tear each other apart.

you were too mature for that, now, weren't you? you both had grown up, you couldn't let your emotions handle you. but sometimes, you wished you were a teenager again so you could forget about maturity, and scream, shout, cry, and yell at diluc, telling him how much he had hurt you.

"i... i'm... i don't know what to say, except, i'm so-" diluc began, but you knew what he had to say. and you didn't want to accept it. so you chose to not hear it at all.

"diluc. snow." you looked up to the sky, and he paused.

you watched the snow glisten in the sky, in pretty shapes that crystalised in the sky.

fog hazed over the night skies of mondstadt, and soft flurries of snow quickly rushed to the ground. they started to group together on the ground. white specks drifted in the winds, frigid air bellowing as you shivered.

you felt a wave of warmth rush through your body as diluc put a hand on yours in an attempt to warm you. in that moment, you couldn't help but think how he'd wrap you in his arms before. it just wasn't the same as it was.

"i feel happy," you murmured, tears rolling down your cheeks. "so happy."

diluc didn't have it in him to look at you.

you were close to accepting it all, though. all the heartbreak, all the tears and lonely nights spent agonising. you would accept all the bad times, just like the good ones.

it would just... take a while. you couldn't move on that fast. the would was so deep that it would take time to heal, but in the end, it would, nevertheless, heal.

if you had been sent an invitation to diluc's wedding a year ago, when he broke up with you, you wouldn't have attended. you would've cursed them out of spite.

but it had been a year since you two broke up. since you wrapped up the heartache. so when diluc's wedding invitation was sent to you in your mail, you smiled.

that's how you ended up at the venue of this momentous occassion, though arguably his bride-to-be was not all that happy about having you here.

i mean, you dated diluc longer than she had known him.

and maybe diluc dragging you away to a secluded corner was seemingly innapropriate behaviour at his wedding, but diluc (for once) did not care about what other people thought. he needed to talk to you.

you weren't that interested in anything he had to say. he had told you everything already, even the most hurtful of words. still, guilt doesn't let you end things to make peace with yourself. and it seemed, this same guilt was eating at him.

"i'm sorry, y/n." diluc held your hand tightly, his voice low.

"careful, you wouldn't wanna get caught being handsy with another woman at your wedding, no?" you laughed, letting go of his hand. "i've forgiven you, diluc. not because i excuse whatever you put me through, but because i want to move on from you."

you looked at diluc's bride.

"... congratulations, diluc. she's beautiful." you smiled, cheeks warm.

a beautiful fool.

diluc felt his breath hitch, and he nodded, "yeah. thanks."

it was time for the ceremony, so diluc left you, once again. just like all the times before. but the only difference was, it didn't hurt as much this time.

he had found happiness. and you told yourself, you could too. without him.

you were over diluc. for real, this time. no going back.

he wouldn't look at you the way he used to, he won't hold you the way he used to. that love dissipated into thin air, like it never existed.

you had accepted it, though. it was over. your relationship with him would never come back. but it was terribly beautiful while it lasted, ingraved in your memories. your love in the shade of golden.

published on; 24th may, 2023. writing belongs to @/vellichxrr6782 on tumblr.

#[🔖 vellichxrr writes ]#genshin diluc #genshin impact diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc #diluc angst #diluc x y/n #diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact #diluc x you #diluc headcanons #diluc imagines

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 7 months

Note

Any fic recs where Stiles is like a badass Navy SEAL or ex-Marine or some kind of sniper. I'm craving badass military/Stiles. Preferably Sterek but doesn't have to be. Thanks!

Yeah!

I'll make an alpha out of you by ElisAttack

(2/3 I 6,873 I Mature I Sterek)

"Did they send me omegas, when I asked for men!" Peter Hale shouts.

Stiles clenches his fists in anger. The scar tissue along his side where he burnt away his omega mark itches. Stiles may be pretending to be an alpha, but he knows deep down what he really is. Once an omega, always an omega.

Or the one where Stiles takes his father's place in a war he doesn't believe in.

they never tell you that bullets bite back by snickiebear

(1/1 I 7,442 I Mature)

When he’s pinned down and the light at the end of the tunnel flickers, he thinks about his Dad, about Derek, and about his goddaughter he’ll probably never get to meet.

He survives every time. Still hasn’t met her. She’s seven now.

or, stiles leaves and finds a new war to fight

bone deep by localsharkbait (nemonight)

(1/1 I 9,153 I Not Rated)

Stiles really could not have known that joining the military would have lead to him meeting Iron Man and getting a boyfriend.

Staring into the muzzle blast by ElisAttack

(2/3 I 13,586 I Mature)

"The hairs rise on the back of Stiles' neck when he glances out the porthole and gets a real close look at the asteroid’s surface. It’s covered in cable lines and electronics, too small and sparse to be seen from anywhere but the surface. They flow towards a series of boulders and what appears to be a heavyweight airlock. Someone built a base here and nobody knew about it. Not Earth, not Mars, not the Belt.

Stiles grips his rifle tighter."

Or the one where Stiles is an Earther marine, sent to the Belt to help investigate a distress beacon. What he finds brings to light a conspiracy that has the power to shake the Solar System to its very core, and change everything he’s ever known.

Specialized Technical Intelligence and Logistics for Earth and Space (S.T.I.L.E.S) by Yiichi

(10/10 I 73,419 I Not Rated I Sterek)

“What the hell kind of a name is Stiles?” he asked.

“You know, a series of sounds spoken in a particular sequence that represent my identity, primarily, referring to me?“ the AI – Stiles – answered cheekily, crossing his own arms in front of his chest, mirroring Derek’s position.

“Ooh, this one’s feisty,” Peter smirked.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #bamf!stiles

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blues824 · 1 year

Note

Reader with the first year having friendship love? like they could flirt or call each other a 'slut' or whatever and just laugh about, not having any romantic feelings!

Let’s play a little “Bro’s the Type”, shall we?

Ace Trappola

Bro’s the type to respond positively to being called ‘slut’

Bro’s the type to call you ‘hoe’ in response

Bro’s the type you call at 1 am just to annoy

Bro’s the type to call you in the morning to say “What up baby?” in the raspy morning voice just to make you laugh

Bro’s the type to quote different Magicam memes with you

Bro’s the type to have a ‘girly middle school’ sleepover with you just because

Bro’s the type to pull pranks on you at every single chance he gets

Bro’s the type to egg your ex’s house/dorm if the douche canoe cheats on you

Bro’s the type to send you memes even if you are both in class

Bro’s the type to give you a look of panic when you have a test, but that panic doubles when you’re giving him the same exact look

Deuce Spade

Bro’s the type to not react positively to being called ‘slut’

Bro’s the type to not come up with a nickname for you and just call you by your name

Bro’s the type to be there for you

Bro’s the type you would call in the case that there’s a creep

Bro’s the type who you could put down as a reference to anything

Bro’s the type to try and help you on homework, but not know what the fuck he’s talking about

Bro’s the type to not let you do all the work but rather divide it evenly

Bro’s the type to consult you whenever he’s uncertain about something (PTSD from the egg situation)

Bro’s the type to leave you on delivered for hours and even days on-end

Bro’s the type to say ‘oops. didn’t see this until now’ as an apology smh

Jack Howl

Bro’s the type to not react at all to being called ‘slut’

Bro’s the type to roll his eyes at any corny pun you throw at him

Bro’s the type to partner up with you if you want to start working out and exercising and hold you accountable

Bro’s the type to be a gym bro

Bro’s the type to push you far so you can discover your true potential

Bro’s the type to actually accidentally leave you on delivered, and has a valid excuse

Bro’s the type you call when you can’t sleep and he’ll tell you a story about his siblings

Bro’s the type to text you before he puts his phone on silent

Bro’s the type to roll his eyes when he sees that he still has 69 missed calls and 420 unread texts from you

Bro’s the type to prefer texts rather than calls

Epel Felmier

Bro’s the type to shout at you when you do something stupid

Bro’s the type to scratch the back of his neck when he does something stupid

Bro’s the type to throw hands when you call him ‘shawty’

Bro’s the type to throw hands that you can’t catch when you show up to his dorm and say ‘SURPRISE SHAWTY’

Bro’s the type to do the late-night workouts to try and get stronger and taller

Bro’s the type to try and prank you

Bro’s the type to fail in pranking you, and scream when you rat him out to Vil just for trying to prank you

Bro’s the type to let out his Southern drawl around you because he’s comfortable

Bro’s the type to ask you to help him reach a balance between masculine and feminine because Pomefiore has made its impression on him

Bro’s the type to ask you ‘if I was a worm, would you still be my friend?’

Ortho Shroud

Bro’s the type to act like a kinder younger brother

Bro’s the type to watch Big Hero 6 with you and take inspiration from Baymax

Bro’s the type to go around waiting for you to get hurt just to ask you to rate your pain on a 1-10 scale

Bro’s the type to be confused when you say ‘I like the pain’

Bro’s the type to research memes so he can understand what you’re saying

Bro’s the type to help you with your homework, but not give you the answers

Bro’s the type to try and recruit you in a huge plot to try and get his older brother to walk outside for an hour at least

Bro’s the type to not be surprised when you end up chucking Idia outside and yelling ‘THIS BITCH EMPTY. YEET’

Bro’s the type to ask Idia ‘how would you rate your pain’

Bro’s the type to greet you with a ‘smile’

Sebek Zigvolt

Bro’s the type to yell at you for calling him ‘slut’

Bro’s the type to yell at you in general

Bro’s the type to not know how to be a good friend

Bro’s the type you have to teach about friendship because he has dedicated his entire life to worshiping Malleus and therefore never had the time for normal friendships

Bro’s the type to ditch you for Malleus

Bro’s the type to leave you on read, and for days at a time

Bro’s the type to have the Twisted Wonderland equivalent of an Android (no hate, it’s just that blue>green in my not-so-humble opinion)

Bro’s the type to not see the problem with the green text messages

Bro’s the type to yell at you for being unprofessional when you were ‘flirting’ (platonically) with him

And finally, bro’s the type to really cherish your friendship, even if it doesn’t seem like it.

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fabuloustrash05 · 8 months

Text

So the DBZ Abridged Buu Saga clips are out, here are my thoughts:

Android 18 knowing about Maron and her and Krillin messing with people about their daughter being named Marron is genius (cause I always found it weird that Krillin named his daughter after his ex girlfriend)

It's kind of insinuated that both Vegeta AND Bulma see the Capsule Corp interns as slaves, just shows they are perfect for each other, but also shows Dr Breifs' evil side peeking through his daughter

Trunks and Goten's voices were so damn cute!! Shout out to their VAs!

Everyone making fun of Gohan's durag XD

KAISER VOICING SHARPNER!! "He knows I love him. You know I love you" Me: AND I LOVE YOU!! A character I did not like in DBZ is now one of my favs in just a minute!

I loved the detail of Trunks referring to Goku as Kakarot (makes more sense since this Trunks grew up with and spends a lot of time with his father Vegeta)

The baby shark bit XD

"Gohan, you taught him how to dodge, that's great!" "TRUNKS PULL UP!!" LMFAO

Dabura's voice! HOLY SHIT!! it was hot

Buu's voice was also good, similar to the dub but way less irritating.

Goku, Shin and Gohan's discussion on shopping carts and tipping, as someone who worked in both fields, I FELT THAT! THERES A SPECIAL PLACE IN HELL FOR THOSE PEOPLE

Goku's "oh no" and a little giggle when Shin asked if Vegeta has evil in his heart. Goku KNOWS what's gonna happen and he's gonna let it happen XD

Vegeta's "I know you're playing me..." line to Babidi being a parallel line to Perfect Cell

Lani once again NAILING THOSE SCREAMS as Vegeta!

Vegeta killing thousands of innocent people, Goku's okay with, but bringing potato salad to a BBQ, HES CROSSED A LINE!

"God I missed you..." that made me chuckle.

Vegeta going to BBQs and movie nights with Krillin, they are friends now and I love it (underrated dynamic in DBZ tbh), also Vegeta acknowledging that he's now referring to Krillin by his actual name instead of "the bald monk". I always felt that Vegeta referring to people by their names is his way of showing respect, so him calling Krillin by his name, he hates that he now respects Krillin.

"Too bad we couldn't finish our fight. I didn't get a chance to wip out my new form-" *Vegeta knocks Goku out* PFFP- HAHAHAHA if he only knew

"I'm going to hug you now" "Hug complete" *knocks Trunks out* "I'm a way better dad than Kakarot" ASDFGHJK LOLOL

Vegeta referring to Goten as KAKATOT lol <3

The "Vegeta no" "Vegeta yes" bit having a conclusion with an emotional impact tied to Vegeta's death.

Even as a joke, I still got emotional during the abridged version of Vegeta's sacrifice.

BEST BUDDY!! HE SAID IT! HE FINALLY SAID IT! WE ALL KNEW HE WOULD BUT GOD DAMN THAT FELT GOOD!!

#my reviews #random thoughts #dragon ball z abridged #dbza #dragon ball #dragon ball z #dbz #team four star #youtube #son goku #vegeta #trunks briefs #krillin #son gohan #bulma briefs #majin buu #majin vegeta #buu saga

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thebottomfromhell · 1 month

Text

Headcanons

Uppermoons defending GN reader from shitty starlker ex

Warnings: Slight manga spoilers (Douma's only), Cannibalism, Excesive use of violence, Yandere behaviour, Toxic relationships, And Non-Character human death.

Request by @lovely-star in her previous account, and this is probably the last requests I will make from said account since she erased it and so everything of that account in my inbox got deleited too. This is the one I remember she wanted. Ex refered as "they/them" for better understanding.

Gyutaro:

Gyutaro is jealous and envious by nature, he is also protective by nature. Still, unlike with his sister, you don't wake up those urges in a way he can't control, so at first he doesn't act on it. He just see someone that is more attractive than him getting close to you and his first instict is to draw back and isolate himself into a state of self-loathing. This time is no different. He draws back in his insecurities, hiding, still believing you are leaving for someone who isn't an "ugly freak".

The your ex, the one that came closer, grabs your arm as you were trying to get away. "Let me go! I told you, we are done! I don't want anything to do with you anymore!" You look distressed as you pull your arm back, struggling against the grip, trying to take some steps back. Just then Gyutaro realizes how upset you are, so he appears from thin air the same way he faded away just before. "Oi..." He says, and both you and your ex turn to see him.

As you sigh with relief the second the let go of your arm, the same time the approach Gyutaro, getting in between him and you, telling the demon to get lost, that it has nothing to do with him, and not sharing expenses at throwing insukts to the insecure creature. Gyutaro, who was looking down, raises his head to face this person, clearly irritated as he begins to scratch his neck. "Oi, oi, you are talking way too much, ne. I'm getting angry. Ne." Eyes glow, and just then you ex takes the time to look him up and down with the red light.

First comes disbelief, then fear, and lastly, before they could scream, a flesh-looking kanna stabs through the open mouth, the angle going directly to the brain, blade coming out from the skull. The body becomes limb as Gyutaro release it, letting it fall. "I'm not feeling hubgry, but it would be a waste, ne. Go home for now, Y/N. Ne?" You only stay as he gives you his back, eating the corpse, using his hands and teeth to rip off pieces of flesh... you feel relief. Still, you don't say anything... for a while.

Gyokko:

Gyokko hates being ignored, if paople pay more mind to you than him, is no exception. He doesn't like to share the spotlight, and he doesn't like to share you neither. He also dislikes when others distract him, so, when you both are home, curtains blocking the sun, and suddenly there is a lound banging on the door at the front, he is not happy. "Urgh! What now? Y/N, make yourself useful and go to deal with that waste at the door." You were about to open, but the you hear your ex's voice, so instead you keep the door shut.

You both start to argue through it, becoming every time louder. "Go away! I won't open this door!" And louder. "I can and I did!! I don't want you anymore!!" And louder... "I SAID-" "WOULD YOU TWO UNCULTURED WRENCHES SHUT UP?! I'M TRYING TO WORK HERE!! Y/N, WHY IS THIS TAKING YOU SO LONG?!" And of course your the next thing your ex does is ask who is there with you... you knew better than to keep shouting, they didn't. It didn't take much for Gyokko to get tired of the shouts, sone threats were even send to him so ot's no surprise he got offended.

Except, Gyokko likes the spotlight... so he put a base on the door before opening it as he hid in a shadow. Then the ceramics sucked your ex, mending and breaking blood, flesh and nerves. You only look at it. "Your welcome." He says before setting that same vase as an inner decoration in the hallway before retreating. Well... that went as to be expected.

Hantengu:

Hantengu never acts up on jealosy, he doesn't dare to. He fears you will leave, that you will hurt him, that people will accuse him of crimes he swears he didn't do. It doesn't make sense, but there is nothing one can do on that coward. Your ex is no exception, since the second he heard banging on the door he went to hide in the wardrobe, crying, holding his head and keeping his knees close to his chest. "They are coming for me! Those villains want to hurt me!" You were just about to calm him down when you hear your ex's voice.

You wonder if you should just hide too, squeeze in besides him, pretend there is nobody at home. You hear the door being shut open, and you stop thinking, just doing. "Eeeeeeeeck!" You try to shudh him with no avail as you hear your ex step into the house, and you curse leaving it unlocked for the clones who are not here. "It wasn't me! I am not a liar! These hands are at fault!" And you curse even more knowing they will hear Hantengu's whimpers and sobs. For some seconds you panic, not knowing what to do. Should you get out? Stay put? Look for another play to hide? Run away? Face them? Threat-

The door of the wardrobe open, and the second your eyes where getting used to the light difference... you see Hantengu lunge into your ex. Both the demon and other scream of fear as the oldest grabs your ex's shoulders, squeezing pulling, you can hear bones cracking as the surprise in the fearful human screams turn int agony. They don't seem to notice you as Hantengu destroy their shoulders in desesperation, running away from the with limp arms and blooded shoulders the second the demon let's go.

Now you blink, Hantengu crawling to a corner, still sobbing, as you process what just happened before the rambles and rants continue... you should better comfort your beloved...

Sekido:

Sekido doesn't like people, they make him angry, so you can understand he wasn't happy when your ex got near you two. Specially when you use him to make distance between your ex and you. "HEY! I'm not your meat shield!" He genuinely tries to grab you and toss you in front when your ex's start getting closer... too close. "Get loss, you pathetic scum! You are unwelcome!" He basically growls at your ex, who after getting over their shock seems to rely on their pride to not show fear... bad idea.

There is an argument between your ex and Sekido, you use this chance to take some steps back quietly, as insults are being thrown around with the angry energy, metaphorically, for now. You lost track of who was saying that, but then they both realize you moved, as you step in some leaves, making noise. Both Sekido and your ex turn towards you, and that seemed to be your beloved's limit, "How DARE you leaving your problems to me?!" because he slams the ground with his staff, letting the thunders take over the area.

The second your ex was about to scream as the thunders slowly become less intense, Sekido hits his head, basically blowing the brain up as it's tissues spread around. "THERE! Are you happy now, you little shit?!" You... weirdly enough are not. This is a lot to take in. The second you don't asnwer Sekido gets even more irritated and basically storms off "Fuck you!"

Karaku:

Karaku notices something is off the second you tense, but honestly pays it no mind. He is part of Upper 4, what could honestly happen to you with him around? Tha answer: them. You are having a dinner date with Karaku pretending to be human, and having money stolen to invite (which means a lot considering he is just watching you eat while flirting with you). You don't let that bother you, unlike your ex's voice calling your name, making you by instict stand up and look around, clearly upset. Your date only tilts your head in confusion before leaning to see who you are looking.

They get to the table and grab your arm, trusting that you will follow for the sake of not causing an scene in a restaurant, but you stay in place, grabbing yourself by the table for stability. "Go away. I'm busy." You do try to keep your voice low in order of not draw too much attention to yourself, looking a Karaku for help. Thankfully, he does. "Hey, sweet thing. You are ruining our date." Before you ex could get into an argument with Karaku, he grabs their wrist, harshly. "Listen here, if you want to play like a punk, little mouse, you will have to wait until I'm in the mood." He laughs as you ex release a gasp in pain and disbelief the second Karaku squeezes har enough to fracture the bones.

Of course, once Karaku physically threats to grab something else, your ex leaves running away. Everyone is looking at your beloved, who just shrugs and orders dessert for you. "Now, back to what we were doing." You only look at him and smile, knowing you can trust him with that problem. "Of course."

Urogi:

Jealous and clingy, Urogi doesn't like strangers near you, and strangers in this context are anyone but the other clones and Hantengu. Besides that, he hates having to share you, even doing tantrums everytime you have to be out of his sight, that can be anything from pouting and whining to actually trash on the ground. You are aware he can also hurt your loved ones, so you make sure to never let them get close and avoid having Urogi meeting them. Of course, you were not counting that in a walk with Urogi (he was flying, and it was dark, so it wasn't easy to see him) during night time you ex would appear.

You have told Urogi to not attack people when getting close to you, to stay hidden, so he did. "What do you want?!" You scream back to them as they get close, you take steps back and shield yourself so they can't grab you. "Leave me alone!" And the next thing you see is Urogi landing on your ex, using the talons in his feet to pin him on the ground and the rip the flesh out with his hands, starting to eat the person alive.

It takes you a few secons to get over that, to focus less on the fact you knew this person and more in the fact that Urogi is eating a corpse, he has done that before. "Tsht nishe! Wont shom?" He speaks with his mouth full... you need to sit for a moment. "No thanks." And... he just keeps eating.

Aizetsu:

Aizetsu is pretty laid back, so he doesn't even react as you use him as a human shield the second you see you ex. He is just wearing a cape with hood and gloves to walk on the sun, as you wanted to go out and he needed some fresh air from the others. He looks tired, but that is all, nobody would think of him of something more than a tired, and maybe a bit sick, young man. Unfortinately, no one seems to have sympathy for that as he is being pushed by your ex for him to move out of the way and pulled by you to keep your shield close.

Not that any one you manage to actually tug him around, staying stable on his feet, mostly havibg to move his feet for space and to balance himself. There is shouting, threats and insults, but everyone around just watches. "Can you both stop? Being tossed around like this is making me sad." Your ex, angry, just takes their anger on your shield, moving the hood. Aizetsu reacts before the horns are exposed, covering the with his wrist as he starts to release smoke, a scream of pure pain comming up his throat. He pulls the hood back again as your ex backs up scared and people start to go see him, worried.

In the end, it's the crowd the one to scare your ex away, thinking they did something to Aizetsu. They recieve threats and insults, besides havibg so many people against them, it's bound to ruin their reputation. You wouldn't be surprised they would leave the town. "I'm sad, I want to go home." You do help him get home through the people, trying to tell everyone off... poor Aizetsu.

Nakime:

You came to her stressed one day, almost crying about your ex, the fact that you met them again, that they haven't changed... you had a rough break up, you relationship with them became toxic and it was already so hard to pull out of in and they are trying to get you back in. Guilt-tripping, gaslighting, threats, the physical manipulation... the worst thing is that you only notice every detail of what they did once the encounter is over, not before.

You probably would have already being bullied back into the relationship if it wasn't for the distress their presence causes you and the fact you sre already in a relationship with Nakime, who listens about the issue without saying anything. "It seems very bad, but don't worry. You are safe here, specially with me around." She speaks and smiles softly before sending you to rest...

The next day you see your ex's corpses on the ceiling (another floor upside down). None of you talk about it, and after Nakime made sure you saw it, she made it go away. It all... just went away with the cord... you need time to think about that. "Did you have a good rest?" You nod and rest some more.

Akaza:

"What's wrong?" He asks the second you tense up, Akaza is very protective, he would rather die than let anything happen to you. Anyway, his question is answered when you ex screams your name as he storms into your direction, as you use the demon as a shield. You were both put for a festival, and it seems the word that you are back in town spread around, to the point you were easily found. The crowd is loud, and it takes a lot of spaces, so people barely spare a second glance to the scene, even as Akaza, in human disguise, also tenses up, ready to fight this person off.

"You are looking for trouble here. Go away and you won't have to eat your own teeth and walk by your own." The tone of voice is calm, but he is clearly not, more like a dog growling, getting ready to jump towards the threat the second it's owner release the leash. "Say one more word and you are done, you pathetic weak." Your ex didn't know when to shut up. Thankfully, with the crowds and your begging, Akaza was actually too smart to kill that person, from your point of view that was the reason at least, and just made a harsh step in the ground, crumbling it.

That already made your ex take a few steps back, but the Akaza threw a hit to the side of the face of your ex, letting the friction with the air and speed make a cut in their chin. There is a thunder-like sound a few second after it, making some people react as your ex's falls into the ground due the shock. "Last warning. Get lost." They do. "Sorry about that, Y/N." You shake your head. "No, it's fine. Thank you for that. Maybe we should look for a quiet place to see the fireworks." You won't let this ruin your night, Akaza smiles at the idea. "Yeah... that would be nice."

Douma:

This is not the first time someone comes to Douma's cult demanding for someone to go with them, honestly. Sometime youngsters run towards his cult to scape the responsibilities set by their parents, so when that happens it's not weird to have an angry husband or father, usually followed by a mother or mother-in-law, storming in, looking for the young one. He usually doesn't get in between family matters, prefering to play dumb than taking sides. "I'm afraid I don't know who you are talking about", "I can't say for certain they are here", "It's not proper for me to get in between family business, I'll let you solve your squarrels", or whatever excuse he has, not that he has ever lied. There are so many humans in his cult, how should he be able to remember the story of every follower he ever had and recognize them by face and name?

Kotoha was an special case, and so seems you are, since you both are the only times he recognized who this person, your partner, was talking about from name alone and slight description. Like her, is a partner, and brings the same arguments. "Scaping responsibilities" this, "gone out of their mind" that, "ruining image" here and a "have to go back" there. Really, nothing new, you just had the bad luck of going to see Douma on the worst time. He can see this person march towards you as you cower away and both begin to push and pull. "Excuse me, can you leave us be? I will be solving this matter in private, thank you." So he does the same thing he did when Kotoha's husband and mother-in-law came. The difference is that you will get to see it.

One movement, fast and smooth, moving his hand, armed with one of his fans, directly to you ex's neck, and he is decapitated faster than slayers do to demon, with only some drops of blood spilled on your face as the body falls limp and start to bleed out, head nowhere to be seen. "My, my! It seems I did a bit of a mess. Here, let me clean your face, dear!" He licks his thumb to wipe the blood off softly.

You just let him do whatever he wants, there isn't much to do about it anyway, and at least he is nice. He protected you, after all...

Kokushibou:

Kokushibou doesn't care about other relationships you have or had, from co-workers to family, he is simply not invested on knowing anything about them. More often than not he spaces out everytime you begin to talk about others, specially family bonds... he is not going to change in thas aspect. So when you are walking out one night and suddenly you shift to hide behind him, the only thing he wants to do is move out of the way. He is very petty, so he tries, but you don't let him as your ex walks into you both.

They trie to surround Kokushibou, as you manages to convince him to disguise himself as human to go out. He is not a human shield! Let. Him. Go. Now.... please? Your ex keeps talking, telling you that they wants you back, that they need you, that you had no right to leave them, you just try to keep your distance and avoid eye contact while Kokushibou would rather be anywhere else. In a desperate move.... you tell them to deal with Kokushibou.... he looks as his mind just emptied. Typical phrases: "What are you? Y/N's new boyfriend", "Y/N is mine", "Y/N is just with you to make me feel jealous" and "Whatever."

"I really don't care. I don't have any bussiness with you, so leave." He commands with authority. Your ex takes a step back, but doesn't want to appear intimidated. He charges into Kokushibou, charging to him him while screaming. The demons dodges and by instinct brushes off the human, making them impact against a wall, falling unconcious. You have the feeling they won't be bothering you anymore. "Thank-" and Kokushibou doesn't want to be bothered anymore too. So he leaves without you. "Kokushibou!"

#demon slayer #kny #upper moons #kny x reader #karaku #urogi #aizetsu #sekido #gyutaro #hantengu #gyokko #nakime #akaza #douma #kokushibou

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adore-healy · 1 month

Text

Talk!

Introducing my next piece — my biggest ever baby — just short of 18K of pure angst so buckle up! Please read the warnings below very carefully — I think I have everything covered but if there's anything else triggering which I've overlooked, please let me know!

Please be kind! Your lovely comments always mean the world to me! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings? Please read at your own risk! Brief mentions of body confidence (insecure reader); alcohol (mentions of vomit); drugs (mentions of rehab); very descriptive illegal drug use and overdose (injecting/needles, vomit, seizures, and mentions of death), sexual scenes and references; and bad language.

Talk!

Swaying ever so slightly, thanks to the glass of wine you’d downed upon your arrival at the party for some liquid confidence, you cross your legs and pray that whoever is taking so long in the bathroom will speed things along because you’re not sure how much longer your bladder can hold out for.

Leaning against the wall for support, you find yourself immersed in people watching as a form of distraction. It seems as though the landing area of the house was the most ideal make out spot for couples tonight — and you assume that the bedrooms are already taken; so you dare not risk using any of the en suites attached in fear of disturbing someone’s mid-fuck.

A group of lads are sat in a circle on the other side of the landing, engrossed in a card game which heavily involves alcohol as you hear them egg each other on with chants galore. One girl sits on the carpeted stairs, only two down from where you’re standing, and she drunkenly sobs into her phone, desperately apologising to whoever is on the other end — presumably an ex partner — as she begs them to take her back.

Your eyes wander observantly over to a group of girls huddled in a corner and despite your innocence in the drug scene at parties, you know that they are abusing a substance as they take turns to dramatically snort white powder off a car key. You’re instantly drawn to them; each of them dressed in clothing that accentuates their stunning figures, paired with high heels that you’d surely break an ankle in.

Self-consciousness suddenly becomes your most prominent feeling as you look down at the loose-fitting floral playsuit you’d chosen to wear this evening, along with your white low top converse. Wrapping your arms protectively around yourself, you wait as patiently as you possibly can.

As though your silent prayers had been answered, the lock of the door clicks, indicating that somebody is finally exiting the bathroom — although you’re hardly surprised when a girl stumbles out of the doorway and balances herself against the doorframe, a slight giggle escaping her lips.

“Steady, love,” a voice sounds from behind her.

Even in your tipsy haze, you’d know that northern accent anywhere — and as his hand comes to rest on the girls’ hip to support her in her drunken state, there’s no mistaking the recognisable box tattoo inked on the inside of his forearm.

Tears pool in your eyes and cloud your vision as you drink in the girls demeanour. Despite having full awareness that it’s not her fault, you can’t help but feel incredibly bitter towards her.

She’s hot.

Her brunette hair frames her face and the luscious curls fall to halfway down her back; fake tan and make up seemed to have been applied in excess but she was able to pull it off with ease; her lips — clearly injected with filler — were ruby red (although the smeared lipstick across her face doesn’t go unnoticed by you); and her waist is adorned by a matching black leather co-ord, her knee high boots giving prominence to her stature.

She’s really hot. Something that you’re not.

And …

… Matty.

The amount of times you’d spoken his name aloud; shouted it during an argument; whispered it in your sleep; whined it each time he would bring you close to the edge with his fingers, or tongue, or sometimes both, only to deny you of the orgasm you desperately craved; moaned it when he did finally let you come around him.

You wonder if his name would roll off your tongue so easily now.

He looks, dare you jinx it, healthy; adorned in a simplistic but dressy pair of black slacks paired with a plain white shirt (because he thinks it makes him appear ethereal — note: it does) and the outfit is completed with black patent shoes. He looks every inch the award winning successful pop star — and you liked it — until you remembered the girl he was keeping company with.

You hadn’t expected this situation to arise tonight; hadn’t prepared yourself for an awkward encounter with your ex-boyfriend; let alone seeing him clinging to a girl — a girl who isn’t you.

Upon handing out her birthday party invites this summer, Charli had confidently assured you that Matty wouldn’t be attending. You’re now realising it had perhaps been a ploy to get you here in the first place. Charli knew you wouldn’t miss her birthday, you’d promised her that yourself; but you would have preferred to have done something different between the two of you — or your group of shared girlfriends — to celebrate; a spa day; a bottomless brunch; a trip to the theatre; anything that didn’t require much social interaction (such as the disorderly house party currently taking place).

Dazed and slightly unsteady, you’re at a loss for words as you look up at Matty and the brunette — but your heart need not race with anxiety, your body need not shake with trepidation, your mind need not be perplexed — as the pair wade past you, not bothering to acknowledge your existence.

Narrowing your eyes, you watch the couple shuffle down the stairs and dodge past the sea of people loitering. Matty keeps the girl close to him, her back pressed against his chest, as his fingertips dance on her skin, his nails biting into her flesh as though he fears letting her go.

The urge to vomit overwhelms you — and you don’t think it’s tonight’s consumption of alcohol. Stumbling into the bathroom, you’re sure to lock the door behind you, before grabbing the porcelain basin for stability. Steadying your breaths and grounding yourself with a few ‘you’re okay’s,’you’re able to calm yourself down enough to remember why you’re in here in the first place; your bladder is about to explode.

Seating yourself on the toilet, your body slightly swaying in your intoxicated state, you close your eyes to ground yourself, drifting off in a daydream where times were different.

You were never Matty’s type — not typically. Fans often reminded you of that across various social media platforms, although not all comments were nasty. Some simply stated that you were far too innocent to be dragged into Matty’s world of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll; whilst other opinions were cruel, leaving you to question your existence in Matty’s life altogether.

Their bitterness was laughable — until it wasn’t. Your rockstar boyfriend would often come home to you - a shell of your former self - locked away in the bathroom; tearfully obsessing over your looks (although not narcissistically); picking yourself apart; and somehow managing to find non-existent faults.

But ever the charming boyfriend, Matty loved on you every day of your relationship. You were continually reminded of his affection towards you with lavish bouquets of flowers, luxurious gifts, romantic picnics, candlelit dinners, and general expressive gestures — often intimate.

However, in spite of Matty’s adoration of you, it was his weakness that had come between you and ultimately resulted in the end of your relationship.

Although grateful for Matty overcoming his heroin addiction, his reliance on drugs had acted as a permanent barrier to a potential future together. You wanted forever with Matty; yearned for him to get down on one knee during an idyllic getaway to pop the question; desired to raise a family with him and experience the highs and lows of parenthood; and eventually grow old together (the only argument being who would be the first to go, because neither of you could live without the other).

It was an unrealistic scenario; you were unable to bring a child; Matty’s child; into a world where his substance abuse was coming first again; and before you. You didn’t condone it but you had accepted his use of recreational drugs — your boyfriend was in a band, after all, and smoking marijuana, snorting lines and popping pills was normalised in his world where creativity was key.

But Matty getting high once a month had soon turned into once a week, and coming home from a writing session in the studio with red eyes which rolled into the back of his head soon became once a day; and spending your evenings alone in your shared apartment whilst you awaited his arrival was proving difficult as you succumbed to the loneliness. Along with the lack of intimacy and the diminished romance, it felt as though you were living separate lives, passing ships in the night.

Late nights, drug dependencies and an obvious lack of appreciation often resulted in slanging matches between the two of you; harsh words thrown around and reverberating off the walls, both viciously biting back and mocking insecurities just to one up each other and instantly regretting it but both too stubborn to apologise. Arguments between you would conclude with slamming doors and estranged sleeping arrangements.

You’d remain in the apartment, clutching the teddy bear he’d won you at a Christmas fair one year — one that held a photo frame which housed a nostalgic photograph of the two of you together after the band had performed their self-titled album in full ten years after it’s release. You’d eventually sob yourself to sleep.

Matty would be cursing to himself and running a frustrated hand through his hair as he’d roam the streets, angrily kicking the ground and scuffing his shoes all whilst contemplating who to call at ungodly hours — before ultimately heading off to find his next fix to alleviate the pain he was causing to himself and everyone around him.

You were both hurting.

“Please y/n, let me come in,” a female voice begs.

You frown, adjusting your eyes as you rewire your drunken brain to return to Planet Earth. You wonder how long you had disassociated for; how long someone was calling your name from outside the bathroom before you finally noticed their presence.

It takes a minute to sort yourself out before you open the door to reveal Charli on the other side. She gives you a solemn but albeit reassuring smile before pulling you in for a hug.

“You said he wouldn’t be here,” you whisper into her neck as you rest your head on her shoulder.

Charli sighs sadly as she draws back from you to close the door behind her, locking it securely and leaving you both with some privacy.

“I wasn’t lying when I told you that y/n, please believe me,” she urges. “George …” she trails off, before explaining how the misunderstanding had occurred.

She doesn’t mean to throw her own boyfriend under the bus and shift the blame. It had been an accidental slip of the tongue during a recording session between the two band members, which resulted in Matty assuming he was already invited — and George didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.

“’s fine, ’s not your fault,” you mumble in an attempt to reassure your friend. “Just wasn’t expecting to see him,” you add with a shrug as you sit yourself on the edge of bath.

Charli kneels in front of you, taking your hands in her own. It’s a silent comfort, a gesture to say that she’s here for you, one that you’re grateful for.

“Is he —” you begin, sighing heavily as your eyes find the ceiling, struggling to vocalise the words. Charli understands and gives you time to figure out what it is that you want to express. A tear rolls down your cheek and you finally whimper, “Is he clean?”

Charli sighs heavily, the pads of her thumbs gently rubbing reassuring circles on your knuckles.

“He’ll always have a problem with drugs, y/n,” integrity is laced in her voice. “But it’s mostly weed nowadays. He hasn’t touched heroin since rehab, you know that,” she reminds you. “He occasionally does coke, but it’s for creativity, and he’s never alone.”

You nod in understanding. You’re fully aware of the demands of his rockstar lifestyle and how the use of substances heavily influence his song writing and record producing; and using it in the company of the other band members wasn’t really the issue; it was when Matty used it alone and vowed to himself to keep it a secret that it became a problem, lying becoming a huge factor in the breakdown of your relationship.

“He realised,” she pauses, taking an in-breath before revealing, “after losing you, he needed to get his act together. He knew he couldn’t build a life with someone if he was always off his face.”

“Looks like he’s building a life with someone else just fine,” you sigh sadly, your eyes averting towards the bathroom door.

The thought of Matty’s arms around another girl especially in front of you makes you feel incredibly uneasy; your heart physically hurting as though somebody was continuously puncturing it and putting you through consistent pain; your stomach turning at the idea of their hands roaming each other’s bodies.

“Oh babe,” she whispers sadly.

“It’s ok,” you tell her with a small nod. Wiping the tears away from your face, you take a deep breath and compose yourself. “I’m ok,” you say, a little more convincingly paired with a smile. “I’ll be fine; it was just a bit of a shock, you know.”

Charli nods in understanding. “You were together for a long time, babe. You’re bound to be upset at seeing him move on with someone else … although,” her speech becomes slurred slightly due to her alcohol consumption and she’s suddenly whispering as though she’s about to reveal a sacred secret, “between you and me, I think he’s just looking for a quick shag.”

Her words, surprisingly, don’t cut deep, and you realise it’s perhaps because she’s drunk and she doesn’t really know she’s saying; or maybe it’s because you know it’s true. There had been no sign of another girl after you; no dating rumours maliciously spread online or in the media, no mention of a female name whenever you met with the rest of the band members and their other halves. Perhaps Matty was in need a good shag — and this girl was the first person willing to provide it for him.

“C’mon,” Charli gives you an encouraging nudge, breaking you out of your own drunken trance. “There’s more vodka and tequila and wine downstairs,” she lists the various alcohol options begging to be consumed. “Let’s get wrecked,” she finishes with a smirk.

It’s a mystery to you how both yourself and Charli have made it to the bottom of the stairs in one piece; not once stumbling or losing your balance despite your intoxicated state. Although, you weren’t complaining. Nobody needed to end up in hospital with a sprained ankle or broken leg, especially on Charli’s birthday.

“There’s my girl,” a male voice can barely be heard over the deafening beat of music that pulsates throughout the house. Emerging through the sea of people and heading towards you both is George, his arms outstretched as he makes a beeline for his girlfriend.

“Baby!” Charli yells dramatically as she stumbles into his open arms, nuzzling into his broad chest. She takes a few moments to regain her composure, inhaling his scent; the strong cologne smothering his plain white t-shirt.

“Someone’s having fun!” George exclaims over the music that reverberates around the house. He glances down and presses a kiss to Charli’s head, running a hand comfortingly across her back as they look ever the disgustingly in love couple.

“We are!” she slurs, smirking up at her fiancé, before loudly declaring, “I’m going … that way!” She points theatrically towards the kitchen as she suddenly steps out from George’s embrace to meet his gaze.

“And why’s that, baby?” he asks, pressing his hands gently to her cheeks, cupping her face.

“Because … that’s where the vodka is, silly!” she giggles, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend, as she feels as though she’s stating the most obvious thing in the world before she starts swaying on the spot.

“Whoa,” George murmurs softly, wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. “‘m not sure you need anymore vodka, babe,” he sniggers at his girlfriend’s drunkenness, although already dreading the raging hangover she’ll experience in the morning. “I best get this one some water,” he tells you, when Charli once again drunkenly collapses against his chest. “Will you be alright?” he asks, peering over her head to meet your gaze, genuine concern laced in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah … go on, you look after her. I’ll be fine,” you nod in reply, waving him off.

Taking a step down the corridor, Charli flings her arms around George’s neck, causing them both to stumble down the hallway and out of sight into the kitchen, leaving you alone. You watch them for a while, noting the interaction between them — physical touch clearly their love language as they can’t keep they hands off of each other — and despite your happiness for them in their relationship, you can’t help but feel immensely jealous of the love they have for each other.

Taking in your surroundings, you’re indecisiveness would normally kick in around now, unsure of where to go and who to spend your time with, but thanks to the many shots you’d manage to knock back this evening, your anxiety is currently kept at bay as you head into the lounge.

Drunken revellers are scattered all around the room — some making out with each other on the sofas, hips grinding against each other and moans of pleasure filling the air; others are in large gatherings and engaged in booming conversations about anything and everything; party goers sit on the floor playing drinking games; whilst a couple of guests are sprawled, uncomfortably looking, across the sofa clearly sleeping off the early hangover that’s already kicked in.

Panic threatens to rear it’s ugly head as you suddenly become hyperaware of the scenario you now find yourself in currently playing out — and you mentally scold yourself for ever thinking that the alcohol you'd consumed this evening could ever give you enough liquid confidence to mingle at such a social event.

You’re in a room full of people; yet you’re alone. None of these people are your friends, and you’re not looking for a quick fuck, either. You don’t have anyone to talk to; anyone to interact with. Desperately seeking a solution, your eyes dart around the room, yet in only a matter of seconds they seem to find a problem in a darkened corner, and you’re forced to watch an intense interaction unfold.

How was it possible to feel everything and nothing at the same time?

Your heart stops beating within your chest, whilst simultaneously shattering into a million pieces. Dizziness consumes your entire body as though you could collapse at any given moment, but your feet are planted firmly to the ground. Your palms start to sweat and your cheeks glow red, your body’s way of telling you you’re overheating, yet your blood runs cold within your veins.

The scene in front of you burns into your eyes, as though it’s a movie that you must involuntarily watch repeatedly; experiencing the trauma over and over again; because you’re adamant that even when you close your eyes, the image will be etched in your brain, one that you’ll see in your nightmares every night from now on.

Matty’s hands are snaked around the brunette’s waist, his fingertips digging into the fleshiest part of her as his larger, overpowering frame keeps her in place against the magnolia wall. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned three from the top, his inked skin exposed as the woman’s palms rest atop his chest, her digits occasionally finding themselves dancing upon the artwork that adorns his body.

You can’t help your eyes wandering below as it becomes increasingly apparent that Matty’s erection is straining within his trousers, his well-endowed manhood threatening to break free of the material. As he becomes progressively turned on, he thrusts his hips towards her body, and one of his hands comes to rest on her inner thigh.

Based on your previous experiences in make out sessions with Matty, you know his fingers will soon find their way up the leather skirt that clings to the girl’s body, before they seek out her sweet spot and have her coming all over them.

You watch his tongue battle against hers for dominance; and you’re surprised at how easily you play into your own imagination as you’re plagued with thoughts about his mouth; because you know you would have submitted by now, granting Matty permission to take full control of the situation.

The affectionate act would be reassuring, your comfort absolutely paramount to him. With your arms around his neck and your bodies desperately pressing together as though intertwining, Matty would trail sloppy wet kisses along your jawline. One hand resting upon your hip and the other placed on the wall of the darkened corner behind you, you would be trapped, pleasantly, in his company.

As his head lowers towards your neck, he’d pull the strap of your playsuit down, exposing your clavicle. He would greedily eye up your collarbone, before allowing his lips to linger for longer than necessary as he gently sucked at your skin, surely leaving a bruise as a reminder. Expressing your pleasure through a small moan would have his lips crashing against yours instantly, the taste of cigarette smoke still on his breath, his lungs full of tar as you inhaled the tobacco second hand.

However, it wouldn’t be long before your insecurities during intimate acts would rear their ugly heads, getting the better of you, and a small whimper against Matty’s plump lips, as you desperately seek solace, has his hands cupping your face, his confidence blooming as he guides you throughout.

“Doin’ so well for me, love,” he would murmur against your lips. The conviction in his voice soothed you, the passionate kisses made you feel secure, and the tenderness of his touches made you feel safe; as though you have a place, with him, in this world.

“Matty,” is all you’d manage to whimper against him, your body quivering at the slightest touch, his words of praise turning you on.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he’d encourage more moans to escape you, desperate to hear how good he makes you feel. “Gonna let me touch you?” he always had the gentlemanly habit of asking for your consent, despite you both already knowing the answer.

With his hot breath fanning over your blush cheeks, you’d nod against him, responding with a mumbled, “mmhmm,” and granting him permission to do so, unable to form a coherent response.

Wasting no time, his fingers would brush past you intimately, and he’d be so grateful that the playsuit you chose to wear tonight was loose fitting around your thighs, giving him the easiest access to the ever growing wet patch on your underwear.

“So fuckin’ wet for me, darling,” he would express his approval at the dampness between your legs. “Good girl,” came the praise as he’d edge you, his digits rubbing hard against you.

You would flinch as his thumb circles your sensitivity in repetitive motions. His kisses become wetter and sloppier as you moan into his mouth, his lips smirking at the hushed moans leaving your lips.

Bucking his hips towards you and pushing you further into the corner, ensuring to maintain your dignity and leaving no space between you, would have him breathless against your body.

“Can you feel that, darling? That’s what you do to me.” He’d be hard; only for you.

His thumb and forefinger work in tandem against your bundle of nerves, and with the increased pressure to the circular motion he inflicts upon you, you would be so responsive for him, whimpering and quivering against him, desperate for release.

“Come on darling, you gonna come for me?” he’d ask, rhetorically, because he knows you will. “That’s it, love, give me a good one,” he talks you through it, and you don’t take much more coaxing before you come undone around him, soaking his fingers and coming over the cotton material.

He’d gaze intently, the sight of you post-orgasm incredibly mesmerising to him. He’d allow you a few moments to regain your composure; you regulate your breathing simultaneously with his whispers of encouragement, words of praise, and affectionate touches guaranteed to soothe you.

“That’s it, darlin’. Come back to me,” he would press a kiss to your cheek, bringing you down from your high and back to reality, his admiration for you soaring. Despite being surrounded by hundreds of people at the house party, Matty somehow had the ability to make you feel as though you were the only person in the room.

He anchored you.

But you drowned anyway.

“Come on, darling,” a soft voice from behind you whispers.

A tentative pair of hands come to rest on your hips, fearful of startling you. Normally, despite your timid personality, you would react to unwanted male attention, uninvited hands touching your body, but it’s Ross, and you know you’re safe with him.

“Come on,” he repeats. “You don’t need to see this.”

He manages to guide you out of the lounge and into the hallway; although you’re not quite sure how your brain and limbs are working in tandem. It’s as though your feet won’t move; stuck to the spot and unable to drag yourself away from the torment unfolding before your eyes; yet you can’t move quick enough, your body urging you to leave the horror behind.

Alcohol courses through your veins and you wish the depressant had acted as a sedative but instead it’s dramatically heightened your feelings. Your stomach is turning at the sight of Matty passionately making out with the brunette as though they were a couple of horny teenagers, desperate to get their end away.

Music thumps around you, drum and bass bouncing off the walls and reverberating around the room and you’re pretty sure that your pounding heart is simultaneous with the fast breakbeats, both working in unison.

Your knees begin to buckle beneath you, unable to support yourself as adrenaline pulses through your body. Desperately trying to swallow air into your lungs, your breath hitches around the tears that flow freely down your blush cheeks.

The oxymoron of your emotions is terrifying and there’s too much to contend with; it’s as though you’re in a dream like state — a nightmare — and a passing thought of, “Is this the equivalent to being high?” crosses your mind.

“Breathe, y/n,” Ross gently encourages as he steadies your body against his own. “Just breathe.”

You can feel people staring, eyes watching intently as they nosily observe your demeanour. They probably assume you're drunk or high; you don’t really care; you’re unable to concentrate on anything other than Matty at the moment.

“’s loud,” you whimper.

Cigarette smoke and marijuana fills the air, hustle and bustle continuing around you as Ross comes to stand in front of you, blocking your view of the party guests loitering in the hallway, as he attempts to protect you, maintaining your dignity in your vulnerable state.

“What was that, love?” he asks, lowering his ear to your mouth in an attempt to hear you around the electronic dance music that blares through the speakers.

“It’s loud!” you cry out again, shaking your head vigorously as though to rid the noise around you; the chatter amongst friends, the laughter between guests; the deafening music; your own thoughts. At the risk of looking as if having a breakdown, your place your hands over your ears, covering them.

Your eyes dart towards two figures fast approaching and even through your tears you instantly recognise them to be Carly and Adam.

“What’s happened?” Carly asks, obvious concern lacing her voice.

You squeeze your eyes shut and fiercely shake your head once more. “It’s too loud!” you sob this time because why does nobody understand?! Why is everybody talking so loud?

“Hey, it’s ok, I’ve got you,” Carly reassures you, gently placing a supportive hand on the small of your back.

You’re too in your own head to realise that the other two men in your presence exchange a glance, Ross pulling Adam aside to fill him in on Matty’s antics tonight.

Pulling you close, Carly attempts to protect you from the continuous stares of the other party goers, and upon overhearing the conversation taking place behind you between her husband and his friend, simultaneous with her reassuring words of, “It’s ok, darling, just breathe,” she makes an efficient decision to take you into the kitchen.

Carly understands, completely, and takes control of the situation. Leading you towards the corner counter, she encourages you to rest your swaying body against the unit for some sort of stability. The kitchen, filled with pop-stars, is almost like a safe haven for you — these people were important, and you weren’t, so they had no time to focus on you and your breakdown. They didn’t care.

“Here,” a voice murmurs softly, a glass of water offered to you in an outstretched hand. It takes you a few seconds for your blurry eyes to focus, your body swaying slightly, before you realise that it’s Adam.

You reach forward, tentatively taking the glass of liquid between both of your hands, attempting to steady your hold on the object which proves to be difficult with your shaking frame. You bring the water to your lips and start to sip it, before increasing the pace in which you drink and taking larger gulps.

“Slowly,” Carly whispers, placing her hand over yours on the glass and encouraging you to take your time. “That’s it, y/n. Nice and slowly,” she praises you as you take smaller sips once again.

You finally regain yourself, tears no longer freely flowing — but your cheeks are stained with track marks where you’d previously been crying. The reverberating music doesn’t seem quite as harsh against the walls in the kitchen; and it’s perhaps the most peaceful room in the house, despite there being plenty of celebrities surrounded by cigarette smoke and noisy chatter amongst friends.

Placing the glass down on the kitchen counter, you turn to Carly and Adam. “He … there was …” you attempt to explain yourself but you’re unable to vocalise the horror that you had witnessed — Matty making out with another girl.

“’s ok,” Carly intervenes, recognising your struggle.

Your bottom lip trembles again and it shatters Carly’s heart that you feel this way, your emotions heightened and running away with you — upset; angry; distressed; inferior; betrayed. She gives Adam a knowing look, and he too is burning with rage.

“Just … wait here,” Carly tells you softly, her hands coming to brush your hair out of your face. “I’ll be right back, ok?” she assures you, softly cupping your face in her hands as she wipes away the remnants of salty tears.

You don’t really comprehend what she’s saying to you; everything is a surreal blur — but you nod anyway. As you stare into space, you hear Adam whisper hiss, “I’ll kill him,” under his breath, as he and Carly head off, presumably back to the lounge.

And just like that, you’re alone, again.

With alcohol increasing your sensitivity to everything, the lingering taste of tequila is still prominent on your lips and the smell of cigarette smoke — once a comforting scent when it came to Matty — and marijuana fills the air, making you feel lightheaded, and you know it will take at least three hair wash routines before you get the smell out.

Your eyes avert around the room as though you’re in a dream-like state. In body, you’re here, but your mind is elsewhere. You observe the other pop-stars who are loitering and talking, not giving a fuck about you — and you also note the amount of bottles that clutter the countertops; some beverages opened and half drank, the sides inundated with empty ones, and a few completely untouched.

“You need to lighten up, sweetheart.”

In your dazed state, you’re not sure who is talking to who right now. You lazily turn your head in the direction of where the voice had come from, to see a young man sitting on the kitchen island opposite you. It takes you a few seconds to realise that he’d aimed his comment at you.

He was alone, too.

He’s cute, you note. Dressed in a moth-bitten black knitted jumper and a pair of black skinny jeans, he mirrors Matty’s iconic grunge look and it’s enough to make you want to fuck him on the kitchen counter in front of everyone; and vomit at the sight of him; at exactly the same time.

His dangling legs are swinging beneath him as he fidgets atop of the counter to get comfortable, his fingers drumming against the granite surface.

Ignoring your initial liking to him looking every inch the boyfriend, you reach forward, opting for the bottle of wine sat next to the him, shrugging off his comment and not once acknowledging his existence. You didn’t have the time of day for any man right now.

Taking a swig from the half-full bottle of Pinot Grigio in your hand, you close your eyes, still trying to rid yourself of the image of Matty embracing another girl.

“Seriously, babe,” he tries again, “You look upset … and wine definitely won’t help you,” he tries again.

You lower the bottle, although it’s still close enough to your lips that it’s practically dancing against them, as you get ready to down another mouthful of the alcohol once this conversation concludes.

“And what will?” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him.

“Something stronger … if you get my drift,” he raises an eyebrow.

You know what he’s implying, but you choose to ignore him. You raise the bottle back to your lips, but something stops you — the guy before you wraps his hand around your wrist, preventing you from drowning your sorrows further.

“Drugs?” you ask rhetorically, mirroring his raised eyebrow at his obviousness.

He shrugs at you although you can tell he becomes slightly shifty, his eyes wandering to make sure nobody had heard you. Delving into his pocket, he pulls out a small packet containing a white powdery substance and throws it down onto the island in front of you.

“’s your call,” he murmurs with a nod. “You can have this one on the house,” his eyes flit between the package and you.

Anxiousness is your forefront emotion as you gaze down at the illegal substance. You weren’t naive to the reality of drug-dealing. The first batch this guy had just offered to you for free was a ploy to get you hooked; to keep you coming back for more as a regular client.

But in turn, it meant addiction; an illness. Being with Matty had shown you an ugly side of drugs that you could have only ever imagined. At the time of being your boyfriend, Matty had fallen into a world of lies and deceit, ultimately resulting in a failed relationship.

You shake your head, “No, thank you though.”

The man opposite you furrows his brows.

“Are you sure? I have plenty and … well, it’s just you seem pretty upset and it will make you feel better. I’m going to hazard a guess that it’s boy trouble?” he asks, almost knowingly.

You don’t respond; you didn’t want this man — a complete stranger who you'd known less than five minutes — psychoanalysing you.

“You know, everyone here is doing drugs,” he informs you in a whisper, stating it matter of factly. “These people; they might seem like they’re put together and better than everyone else, but the truth is, they need to take their pain away, too. Trust me, I can help you.”

Registering his words, your eyes avert back to the package.

“What … what is it?” you ask him, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Smack,” he answers without hesitation. “Looks like you need it to work pretty quick as well,” he adds, before taking another object out of his pocket and placing it on the counter beside the drug. “The quickest way to get your high is by cooking it, and then injecting it, preferably into a vein,” he tells you as you look down at the syringe now on the kitchen side.

It would be plain to anyone watching this interaction that you’re unknowledgeable; possessed by innocence in this life. Sure, you’d experimented with the socially accepted substances; alcohol (many of nights had ended with you retching into a toilet bowl and nursing a hangover into the next day), and smoking tobacco cigarettes; but otherwise, you’d lead a pretty sheltered life, for which you were grateful for.

“How?” you ask, before clarifying, “How do I cook it?”

The attractive guy smirks back at you. Perhaps he thought you were cute? Or maybe he was lonely and wanted the company? Then again, it could be because he was grooming a young, vulnerable girl into taking an illegal substance which would hopefully have her hooked and coming back for more.

You shake your head at the intrusive thoughts that begin to plague your mind, your anxiety levels peaking as you realise just how unsure you are of this; and how alone you are at the moment.

Matty was too busy trying to get fucked by a pretty model; Ross, Adam and Carly had all left you to go God knows where; and knowing them, George and Charli were probably shagging in the flowerbed at the end of the garden.

But ultimately, you were alone.

“’s easy,” he mumbles, jumping down from the side and walking over to the kitchen counter where you were stood, cornering you between the units.

He’s confident, but not cocky or threatening, and right now you feel seen; heard; and maybe even safe in this man’s presence right now. He reaches towards the cutlery drawer next to you, pulling out a silver spoon.

“Firstly, we need a cooker and a heat source,” he shows you the cutlery in his hand, although you already know it’s a slightly amateur move when he hasn’t provided his own equipment in his drug sharing ritual — but you’ll let him off since you’re no expert either.

With his back turned towards everyone else in the kitchen, he’s left to secretly pour the contents of the plastic bag onto the spoon. He steadies his hand, before delving into his pocket with the other and reaching for a lighter. Placing it underneath the spoon, he begins to melt the heroin, and you watch on, fascinated as the powder gradually turns into a liquid.

“Take it for me,” he gestures towards the spoon.

You do as he says, trying your best to steady your grip on the handle of the cutlery.

The man turns to discretely observe the other party goers in the kitchen and he’s satisfied when some of the guests had filtered out of the room — a few of them having decided to go into the garden — and those who were remaining were still just as uninterested in you both.

“We can put it in this now,” he tells you, and he draws the liquidated substance into the syringe, filling it with the drug. “I need your shoe lace,” he nods down to your fresh white converse.

“Why?” you ask.

He smirks — although you’re not sure if it’s his way of flirting or if he’s amused by your lack of knowledge and obvious inexperience. It’s probably the latter, you think.

“Because …” he begins, placing the needle on the kitchen counter top before kneeling down in front of you and continuing, “We need a tie off.”

His words don’t make much sense to you as he makes light work of untying your shoe, removing the lace through the eyelets with ease. It seems almost affectionate; but then again, you were able to romanticise most things in your life. Perhaps it’s fate that you and the guy who’s teaching you to inject heroin had met this evening. Everything happens for a reason.

He stands up again, towering over your frame, the shoe lace held loose within his hand.

“I need to tie this around your arm,” he tells you, brushing the material across your skin.

Tying the shoe lace tightly around your arm, he then uses his two forefingers to tap against your skin a few times, encouraging the blood flow to make a vein become more prominent.

“If you inject into a vein, you’ll feel the effects quicker,” he whispers to you, as he runs his fingers across a protruding blue blood vessel. “You’ll get high before you even realise it.” Taking the needle from the kitchen counter, he holds it towards you.

“Are you ready?” he asks gently, an eyebrow slightly raised as he observes your nervous features.

Were you ready?

You think back to the series of events that had occurred throughout the course of the night. Seeing Matty with another girl — a hot brunette that was totally his type — had destroyed you. It made your heart physically ache; shattering into millions of tiny pieces; and he just didn’t seem to care. He hadn’t even noticed you all evening.

Despite his friends rallying around you, you knew it was perhaps out of guilt and pity. Did they really love you, or did they see you as a weak and vulnerable ex-girlfriend who needs babysitting because she can’t control her emotions?

Heroin had been a welcomed escape for Matty throughout his time of using — it distracted his brain from everything bad that was happening around him — the drug was there, begging for him to use it to ease his pain and make life more bearable.

What had only ever meant to start off as experimenting, part and parcel of being a rockstar, soon turned into a severe dependence on the drug; an addiction; resulting in constantly lying to those he loved, relationship breakdowns, arguments between family and friends and ultimately, losing you.

But heroin relieved Matty of his emotional pain and torment, even if only temporary and perhaps you needed a distraction tonight, something to take away your pain — even if only temporary.

One time wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’m ready.”

Matty’s moans are soft and delicate as his back arches into the fabric sofa, the hot woman’s lips nipping at his neck as she straddles his thighs, clearly turning him on. She grinds her hips against him and he bucks himself towards her, cursing the clothing that gets in the way of his ever growing erection.

“Fuck,” he groans softly.

He doesn’t care who hears him, other drunken revellers finding themselves in similar positions around the house, and for those who aren’t looking for a quick fuck tonight are too drunk or high to get laid anyway. He seems to be the least important pop star in the room — and for once, he thinks he likes it.

“Fuck,” he moans again, when she sucks at his neck. “Fuck, yeah,” he bucks his hips towards her again as her tequila tasting lips no doubt leave a harsh love bite on his pale skin, a bruise already forming with the intensity of her actions.

“Can’t,” she suddenly groans against him.

Matty understands, immediately.

“Upstairs?” he questions.

He’s sure — so certain — that she wants to take this further but can’t because they’re in the living room — able to be gawked at by others; which is odd, he thinks, because she hasn’t been shy about where their make out sessions have been taking place so far. She hasn’t cared who has been watching.

“Stop,” she whisper hisses, before making her voice more firm. “Stop, Matty. Need … need t’ … stop,” she tells him, before pulling herself away. She can barely look him in the eye as she runs a hand through her tangled hair.

“‘s wrong?” he asks.

She shrugs before removing herself from his lap. There’s not much dignity for Matty as his erection strains against the black tailored trousers he’d chosen for this evening — and there’s no cushion or throw to cover his embarrassing situation.

“You ok?” he asks, genuine concern laced in his voice.

“I … I need to get home … to … my …” she stutters, almost embarrassed as reality hits hard.

“To your what?” he asks breathlessly, giving a deathly stare as his patience is beginning to wear thin and his nostrils flare because he has a horrible feeling where this conversation is heading.

“To my … partner,” she adds, finally allowing the words to leave her lips. She smooths the black leather skirt down her legs properly, the material having ridden up her thighs to expose her hips during the steamy session.

“You … you have … have a boyfriend?” Matty splutters, as they make eye contact with each other; the first time since the woman had pulled away from his embrace.

“Husband,” the younger girl corrects him, the disco lights suddenly reflecting off the wedding band that adorned her ring finger — a harsh reminder to him that he was being used. Biting her lip mischievously, she cruelly tells him, “Just because you’re a rockstar, doesn’t mean I was going to let you take me home. It was just a few kisses here and a few touches there. ’s no big deal. I … we had an argument and I did … things … this … in the heat of the moment.”

“No big deal?” he repeats her words, shaking his head and furrowing his brows in disbelief.

“You’ll get over it,” she shrugs unapologetically, pulling her bra strap back over her shoulder before standing up from her position on the sofa and heading towards the doorway of the lounge. She doesn’t even turn back as she leaves and Matty emits a breathy laugh, almost shocked that he, Matty Healy, would be leaving the party tonight without a girl to fuck.

It’s humiliating for him — and his dick is still relatively hard, the tip surely leaking with his salty pre-come. He sighs heavily, throwing an arm over his face as he tries to ignore the twitching in his pants.

He takes a few deep breaths, composing himself, before reaching towards his jacket pocket and pulling out a packet of cigarettes and lighter. Taking a drag, he leans back against the sofa again, finally satisfied as his erection eventually begins to soften.

“No less than you deserve,” George suddenly mutters as he pushes himself away from the wall where he had watched the scene unfold. He draws in a deep breath from his own cigarette as he approaches Matty.

“Fuck sake,” Matty groans, embarrassed, running a hand through his dishevelled hair before taking another drag. It had been degrading enough for Matty to experience being mugged off by the younger girl, let alone one of his best friends having watched the interaction.

“Dick,” George murmurs under his breath, shaking his head, before flicking some ash from the cigarette still held loosely between his first and middle fingers.

Raising an eyebrow, Matty looks puzzled at his friend.

“What did you call me?” he asks breathily, in disbelief.

“I said,” George inhales, stepping closer, standing over his friend, and giving him a sarcastic smile, “You’re a dick.”

“Oh fuck off,” Matty quickly brushes it off as banter.

“’s a dick move,” George repeats once again with a shrug, although his tone is serious and filled with sincerity. He backs away slightly, standing upright once again as he drinks in Matty’s pathetic demeanour, shaking his head once again.

With the attitude and lack of humour, Matty realises that George is being serious. He’s upset about something, clearly pissed off — and now he’s worried.

“You knew she’d be here,” George tells him, pointing his forefinger towards Matty. “You fucking knew!” he grits his teeth, angrily, before turning around and running a hand over his face.

Matty stands up, prepared to square up to his best friend. Despite the fact that the boys never really argued much — and nothing was ever too serious between them — alcohol consumption and the fact that Matty’s really pissed off would be motive enough for them to have a few harsh words between each other.

“She saw you, Matty!” George yells, turning to face the other man again before grabbing at the collar of his white shirt. There’s no opportunity for Matty to react or defend himself as George shouts at him once again, pushing him against the wall and backing him into the corner.

The feeble one sided brawl earns a few concerned looks from the other party-goers as some guests slyly watch the commotion between the two men unfold, whilst others are more obvious, eager in their observations as they gossip amongst each other.

“She fucking saw you with another girl and it’s breaking her heart! Everything she ever did for you … she stood by you when everyone else fucked off and left you!” George shouts into Matty’s face, harshly reminding him who was there for him during his time of need.

“Who?” Matty asks, aghast. “Who saw me?”

George shakes his head in disbelief, loosening the grip on the collar of Matty’s shirt.

Inhaling another drag from his cigarette, George looks Matty up and down, regaining his composure.

“Who, George?” Matty repeats his question. “Who saw me?”

“She saw everything; y/n saw everything,” George closes his eyes as he speaks, almost pained on your behalf.

“She … she saw …” Matty stutters, releasing an in-breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. The mere mention of your name has his heart pounding within his chest, his palms sweating from anxiousness, his knees almost buckling beneath him.

So many questions were whizzing around his head right now.

He didn’t even know you’d be here; was none the wiser that you’d been invited.

Were you here alone or did you have company?

Why hadn’t you made it clear to him that you were here?

He hadn’t already seen you — had he?

Matty knew you — he fucking knew you. A party like this — this wasn’t your scene. Or had he just lacked so much attention this evening that you were able to bypass him at any given opportunity?

Because if he had have seen you, he would have made it his priority to have had you straddling his hips; your mouth suckling his prominent collarbones and leaving a permanent reminder, your cunt he’d be edging with his fingers, before your pretty lips would be begging to be wrapped around his cock.

Not the woman he can’t even remember the name of.

Guilt is his forefront emotion; a horrific feeling of shame overcoming him as he can only sympathise with how you must be feeling — you’d seen him in the company of another girl — a girl that wasn't you. Granted; it was a terrible context but it was still one that he could not excuse or condone — but the only reason he’d had a sleazy make out session was to distract himself from you. He had to find you and tell you.

Arriving at the party tonight, Matty had felt lonely — all of his friends were coupled up.

Ross and Chloe.

George and Charli.

Adam and Carly.

Matty and … nobody.

“She … she’s … here?” Matty finally chokes out.

George nods slowly, finally having calmed himself down as he seeks out the ash tray that stands on the coffee table behind him.

“Where … where is she?” Matty asks urgently, mirroring George’s actions and following suit as he too, stubs out his own cigarette.

“I don’t think she’ll want to see you, mate,” George tells him regrettably.

“I need to talk to her! I need to …” he shouts desperately, making a beeline for the door of the lounge, but George’s broad frame comes to stand in front of him and is able to stop him from going any further.

“You need to calm down first, yeah,” he begins, placing a hand on his chest, but Matty quickly interrupts.

“I am calm!” his tone contradicts him — although George knows his raised voice isn’t from a place of anger at you — but more so frustration towards himself.

“You’re angry,” George clarifies; it’s a statement, not a question.

Matty nods in agreement, knowing there’s no denying his emotions, before reassuring his friend, “Not at her, though.”

“I know,” George sighs, his eyes finding the ceiling as he contemplates allowing Matty to find you — but he’s really not sure that’s a good idea right now considering you had been having a breakdown no less than fifteen minutes ago.

“I’m not … don’t want t’ churn out any drama,” Matty runs his hand frustratedly through his hair, clearly at a loss. His eyes wander intensely around the room, unsure of how to approach the situation. “I just … want to make it right, ’s all,” he adds, desperation evident in his voice.

Matty knows — he fucking knows — he has to make this right. He doesn’t want to be finding a meaningless fuck at a party. It’s you — and only you — that he wants — and despite the breakdown of your relationship that was his fault, the history between you, the chemistry; it’s always you.

“Ok,” George sighs, defeated. He steps aside, allowing Matty the freedom he desires to find you, but he’s stopped instantly when Carly appears at the door frame, her cheeks blush and her features panicked as she catches her breath.

“Carly?” George questions, mirroring the concern etched on her face.

“What?” Matty’s husky voice asks. “What’s happened?” he repeats, urgency evident in his tone when he drinks in Carly’s solemn expression.

Time stands still for a few moments — George’s expression is full of confusion, his brows furrowed, and Matty’s stomach drops, his palms beginning to sweat and he’s worried — because he knows whatever she’s about to reveal isn’t good news.

Carly sighs heavily, her tongue running across her bottom lip before she finally utters the words, “It’s y/n.”

“Get out the fuckin’ way!” Matty’s voice can be heard as he forces his way through the sea of onlookers before he’s eventually pushed himself to stand at the forefront of the crowd, George and Carly hot on his heels as they both come to stand behind him.

The sight that greets Matty is one that he never, ever, thought he would see; and he wishes, so desperately, that this is a nightmare and he’s about to wake up any second now; but not all things were possible.

He’s certain, one hundred percent, that his heart stops beating once he claps eyes on you; fear and anxiety consuming his entire being as he suddenly feels nauseous, his mouth as dry as sandpaper and his legs wobbling like jelly.

Your body is passed out on the kitchen floor; limp and lifeless.

“No,” a strangled cry leaves Matty’s lips, as George’s hand comes to firmly rest on his shoulder.

It takes a moment before his brain can signal for his legs to move, shock taking over him as he looks down towards your unconscious body placed in the recovery position against the cold tiles.

“No, no, no, no,” he continues breathlessly as he lowers himself beside you. “She … is she …” he chokes on a sob, grabbing for your wrist. Placing two fingers on your pulse point, he sobs frantically once again, “I can’t … she hasn’t …”

“She has a pulse,” a voice sounds from the other side of your body.

Ross.

“She …” Matty stutters.

“It’s faint but that ambulance needs to hurry up,” Ross speaks more to himself — but it’s a hint to Adam as well — who Matty now realises is on the phone to a call handler. Adam rests a palm on the kitchen countertop, remaining calm as he passes on the crucial information to whoever is on the other end of his mobile, to ensure help arrives as soon as possible for you.

“What’s happened?” Matty cries out, not even attempting to compose himself in front of the onlookers as his eyes scan your features for any sign of visible injury.

There’s nothing upon his initial inspection; his eyes wandering briefly over your body — no bruises or bleeding; nothing that would indicate any valid reason as to why you’re passed out on the kitchen floor and unresponsive to everything going on around you.

“She’s …” Ross begins, “She collapsed. She’s taken …” he gulps nervously, unable to continue.

“What? What has she …” Matty begins, but he’s unable to vocalise the rest of his question as his eyes avert around the room, looking for any clues as to what substance you had abused.

Much to his horror, he notices the needle, spoon and empty packet that lays only a meter away from your unconscious body. The last straw for Matty is seeing the tie-off around your arm, and quickly recognising it as a shoe lace, he confirms his suspicions as his gaze wanders over your converse with the missing lace.

He shakes his head, attempting to rid himself of the thought of you injecting an illegal substance to numb the pain that he caused tonight. George was right; this was his fault.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, running an agitated hand through his hair.

It’s Ross who takes the lead on trying to stir you as he gently rolls you onto your back and applies a harsh stimulus, rubbing his knuckles along your sternum. “Come on, y/n,” he encourages. Adrenaline coursing through his own veins, he increasingly adds more pressure, no doubt leaving bruises along your chest.

“Come on, darling,” Matty whimpers, focusing his attention entirely on you as he instead runs a hand through your hair. It’s a reassuring gesture, one to let you know that you’re not alone, despite Matty knowing you’re completely unaware of your surroundings and the situation you’re currently in.

“Do you have any Naloxone?” Ross is confident he already knows the answer now that Matty himself is clean of heroin, but he clutches at straws anyway in any attempt to revive you, not once stopping applying the stimulus to your chest.

Matty shakes his head.

“No,” he swallows, his hand still stroking your hair affectionately.

If only it had been that simple. For once, he curses himself for no longer possessing the cruel and life changing heroin addiction he’d once been a victim to; maybe then he could provide an antidote that would reverse the opioid overdose.

“Alright everyone, out!” a voice suddenly yells.

Carly.

Despite her smaller frame and her sobriety, she’s forceful in her words.

“Come on, we don’t need an audience!” she speaks again, encouraging the guests to leave — although not giving them much of a choice as Charli and George come to her aid to create a barrier, ushering them away from the kitchen.

“We’ll keep them away and … entertained,” George murmurs, considering a choice of words, although he’s not sure either Matty or Ross are taking on board what he’s saying, understandably preoccupied with helping you. Together, the three of them ensure they maintain your dignity as much as possible.

There’s a few groans, some of the party goers wishing to be nosy at the scene unfolding. If Matty wasn’t so consumed by your unconscious state, terrified of your fate, he thinks he would have been physically violent towards some of these people, prepared to start a brawl with anyone who was revelling at your position and the drama unfolding.

“s ok, love,” Matty whispers softly, although he’s not sure if he’s attempting to reassure you or himself when there’s still no inkling of you coming round just yet.

“Fuck sake,” Ross mutters, as he observes the equipment sprawled across the floor nearby. His eyes averting to the shoe lace around your arm, he shakes his head, before saying, “Someone’s helped her to do this. She wouldn’t know where to start.” He gestures towards the equipment before returning to rubbing your sternum once again.

Matty whimpers, knowingly.

It was true; respectfully, you had no idea how to administer any form of illegal drug or how to even get hold of any such substance. Even when Matty himself was actively using, he made sure you were nowhere near heroin — or any other drug for that matter. The fact that the equipment littered around your unconscious body had indicated that you’d cooked a drug before injecting it made both Matty and Ross feel uneasy — another person had played a part in this.

“C’mon y/n,” Ross repeats.

It feels as though it takes a lifetime before any success comes of the stimulus Ross applies but a sudden choked splutter indicates your regain of consciousness.

However, there’s no time to waste as the two men kneeling at your frame quickly realise they need to roll you into the recovery position again. You emit a small whinge at the action, taking a dislike to being moved so suddenly before you vomit violently on the cold tiles beneath you.

“’s it darling, there we go,” Matty comforts you, reaching for your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He shuffles himself as close to you as he can possibly be, as though his presence alone could make you better, and not once fazed by the sick that you eject.

“That’s it baby, let it all out,” he encourages, brushing your hair away from your face as Ross rests his hand gently atop of your back as you uncontrollably empty the contents of your stomach.

“Ambulance will be another twenty minutes or so,” Adam murmurs softly as he comes to kneel beside you as well.

Keeping the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder, he looks between Ross and Matty as they try to deal with the copious amount of vomit. Adam shakes his head, knowing just how touch and go this situation could be for you now, and swooping in with one hand full of kitchen roll, he wordlessly begins cleaning up around you.

Your bout of sickness seems never ending and it’s obvious that the alcohol you’d consumed in high volume has also played a huge part in why your reaction to the heroin you’d injected was so severe, your body rejecting the liquids you’d downed that night.

“That’s it, good girl,” Matty praises you softly, once you finally stop being sick, gently resting his palm on your face, skimming your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sweetheart, how much have you taken?” Ross speaks next, hoping for some sort of response from you, although as he’d expected; nothing.

Instead, you let out a whimper, softly beginning to cry.

“’s alright darlin’,” Matty assures you, continuing to stroke your hair. “I’m here, we’re all here.”

“Did you take all of it, y/n?” Ross tries a different approach, reaching out for the empty syringe that had previously contained the contents of the illegal drug. There was no knowing just how much you had taken but Ross realised he had to consider the worst case scenario — that the syringe had been full.

There’s no answer once again. Unbeknown to what is happening to you at the moment, all you can do is express your dislike at the situation you’re in through a cry and an agitated moan; but at least you’re conscious. You’re alive.

“Hey, ’s ok,” Ross attempts to calm you down. “We’re gonna help you.”

The relief that both the men had felt over you being awake — although not alert — is short lived, however, when your cold and pale body goes limp once more, your breathing shallow as you fade back into unconsciousness against the tiles.

“No,” Matty raises his voice slightly in an attempt to keep you awake. “No, no. Stay with me y/n,” he encourages, gently shaking your frame.

Adam stands from his kneeling position on the floor, talking to the call handler with urgency to make them aware you’d once again slipped into a state of unconsciousness, leaving only the other two men towering over you.

Your lifeless body suddenly goes stiff before your limbs starting jerking and your eyes begin rolling into the back of your head and it takes Matty a few seconds to realise you’re having a seizure. Understanding completely, both Matty and Ross allow your body to move freely, not once restricting your uncontrollable movements.

‘Hann!” Matty shouts.

With Adam acutely aware of the severity of the situation, he passes on the vital information to the call handler once more, explaining that you’re experiencing a seizure. Ross’s eyes flit between everyone in the room; panic being the forefront emotion as your body continues to shake; compassion for Matty as he watches this nightmare unfold; all whilst wishing he could intercept the phone call mid-air to hear what is being said.

“That’s it darling, ride it out,” Matty reassures you. “‘m here, sweetheart, ‘m right here.”

“Fuck,” Ross mutters underneath his breath.

He removes the jacket he had been wearing throughout the course of the evening and places it carefully beneath your head, supporting you against the cold, hard tiles.

“Where’s that bloody ambulance?!” he shouts to Adam, as he checks his watch.

“ETA of ten minutes,” Adam responds without a beat.

“Ten minutes?” Ross questions rhetorically, shaking his head in disbelief, as he notes the time of your continuing seizure by tapping away aggressively on his phone.

“She needs them now!” Matty yells, a sob escaping his lips.

After three minutes, your body begins to regulate itself, your flailing limbs slowing as your previously tense body begins to relax, indicating your seizure had finally come to an end.

“That’s it darling, good girl,” Matty encourages once again. He tentatively reaches out his hand to comb through your hair once again, soothing you as you shiver and whimper against the cold tiles. “‘m right here, darling, ‘m not going anywhere.”

It feels like a lifetime, but after another seven minutes and true to their word, the distant sound of sirens can be heard — but Matty still can’t bring himself to breathe a sigh of relief just yet.

Since arriving at the hospital, you’d been cruelly snatched away from Matty, wheeled to your own private room where you received the treatment needed for a heroin overdose, leaving Matty, Ross and Adam in the family waiting area, none of them able to seek solace amongst the lacklustre slate walls, or the strong smell of disinfectant in the air.

The scene continues to play in Matty’s mind, all too easy to remember. When the paramedics had arrived, they quickly tended to your lifeless body, as the other three men watched on.

The hushed begs of, “Please help her,” and whispered prayers of, “Please please please,” had escaped Matty’s lips as the older female paramedic placed an oxygen mask over your mouth and nose to help your breathing.

She was a seemingly maternal lady, no judgement passed despite it being quickly obvious that you’d taken an illegal substance tonight, and she kindly told Matty, “We’re going to do everything we can to help your girlfriend.”

He didn’t correct her — although if it were different circumstances, he would have taken pride in people assuming you were a couple; as though it was obvious to the outside world that you both have an unbreakable connection to each other.

The younger male paramedic calmly asked questions — some unanswerable — as he began injecting your body with a substance — which Matty assumes is Naloxone; to reverse the effects of the opioid overdose.

What was your name? Which drug had you taken? How much of the drug had you taken? How much alcohol had you had to drink over the course of the evening? Did you have any allergies? How long did your seizure last? How much had you vomited?

Matty could barely think straight as he was being quizzed by the ambulance crew, although it almost felt as though it was an interrogation. The finger of suspicion would probably be pointed at him as to where you’d acquired an illegal drug, but he didn’t care about that right now; his priority was you.

When the paramedics were able to move you to the ambulance, they did, and Matty accompanied you all the way to the the nearest Accident and Emergency Department who would be more equipped to help you, whilst Adam drove himself and Ross to the hospital, following closely behind.

It had been agreed that Charli, George and Carly would stay at home on the understanding that they would be contacted if there was any change to your condition — and having ushered the guests away from the party, sending them elsewhere to continue their celebrations, the three of them were on hand if they were needed at short notice.

“Matty, just … just calm down, yeah?” Ross murmurs.

Matty emits a sarcastic, breathy laugh, continuing to pace aimlessly around the room, having done so since arriving. Running a hand through his curls, something that signals his distress, he repeats the words in a murmur.

“Calm down?” he scoffs, scuffing his shoes against the light grey flooring. “Calm down?!” he raises his voice, turning on his heel to see the other two men sat on the blue cushioned chairs.

“She’s strong, mate,” Adam reassures him, his knee bouncing and indicating his own nervousness at the situation. “She’ll be ok,” he adds, although even he’s having difficulty at being optimistic at this given moment.

“She overdosed,” Matty’s voice cracks, the image of your unconscious body sprawled across the kitchen floor, vomit surrounding you, your body seizing, cruelly plaguing his mind. “She … I thought she was …” he can’t vocalise the word, unable to finish his sentence in fear of it ringing true. “Fuck!” he swears angrily, his bawled fist making contact with the wall.

“Come ‘ere!” Ross yells, using all of his strength to pull Matty away, preventing him from punching the wall a second time. Despite Matty’s pathetic attempt to fight against his friend, fists hammering into his chest, Ross’s large hands come to rest on his face, forcing eye contact between them. “Listen … listen to me!” he encourages in a raised tone. “You need to be strong for her, Matty, y’hear me?” Ross’s own voice is thick with emotion.

Ross embraces Matty as another sob escapes his lips, and not once does he attempt to hide the intense emotions he was battling tonight — fear, worry, and anxiety all at the forefront.

“I shouldn’t …” he breaks off. “She shouldn’t … shouldn’t even … be here,” he chokes out, his obvious distress preventing him from forming a coherent sentence. “’s my fault, ’s all my fault,” he cries into Ross’s shoulder. “All the times I’ve used and I’m still here and she …” but he’s stopped when Ross pulls away from him, resting his hands on Matty’s shoulders.

“Don’t!” he warns, unwilling to comprehend the turn in conversation. “Don’t you fucking dare! This is not your fault! She was … unlucky,” he sighs, closing his eyes briefly, trying to shake the thought. “She went to the wrong person … people …” he furrows his brows, realisation suddenly dawning on him that someone at Charli’s party had taken full advantage of you — your distressed state having seen Matty’s make out session; praying on you and your vulnerability, providing you with an illegal substance you’d never even seen before, let alone experimented with.

It makes him — all of them — feel uneasy that someone had targeted you.

“s not your fault, Matty,” Adam softly pipes up with his reassurances. “Come on, mate. There’s no point in blaming yourself or getting angry, it’s not going to help anyone,” he speaks matter of factly, the voice of reason amongst them, as he anxiously drums his fingertips against his thigh.

“Come on,” Ross encourages him, nodding towards the cushioned chairs and coaxing him to take a seat. Matty does so before Ross offers, “Do you want a coffee?” as he sits beside him.

Matty shakes his head and whisper breathes a quiet, “No.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees before placing his head in his hands. His quiet sobs begin to subside as he finally regains his composure and regulates his breathing. “Fucking hate hospital coffee,” he murmurs in addition, and it’s the first lighthearted comment he’s made all evening.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Ross tells him again, placing a supportive arm around him.

“Thank you,” Matty breathes softly as he looks up and averts his gaze towards Ross next to him, sincerity laced in his tone. “To both of you,” he clarifies, looking between both Ross and Adam.

“What for?” Ross frowns.

“You were there … already helping her,” Matty shrugs, placing his palms against his thighs. “What happened?” he dares to ask, against his better judgement.

Licking his lips, Ross begins, “I’d gone to check on her. She’d been upset and … well, I know George told you,” he tells him, nervously shuffling in his chair. Ross knew better than anyone that Matty would be feeling incredibly guilty right now and to soften the blow, he’d decided to choose his words wisely.

“She saw me,” Matty confirms.

Ross nods his reply.

“She’d seen you in the lounge with … well, whoever it was,” he acknowledges the existence of the brunette woman. “I managed to get y/n out of there. Carly and Adam took her to the kitchen to calm her down. I caught up with George and Charli. The next thing I knew, I went to kitchen to find her again but she was alone.”

Ross shakes his head, and runs an agitated hand over his face, a feeble attempt at ridding himself of the horrific memory that vividly replays in his mind.

“She was stumbling around, trying to steady her balance against the kitchen side. She was muttering away, talking to herself … she didn’t make any sense,” Ross takes an in-breath before continuing. “I asked her if she was alright. I thought maybe she’d been drinking more, you know? She kept saying your name, said she needed to find you. That’s when she collapsed,” he clarifies. “I couldn’t wake her. At first I thought it was the alcohol that had affected her; made her paralytic. Everyone was looking so I wanted to move her to somewhere more comfortable. That’s when you came in,” he nods towards Adam.

“I saw it straight away,” Adam sighs regrettably, before clarifying his statement and briefly describing the events that had occurred. “The needle was on the kitchen side, the bag was empty, and there was a spoon and lighter next to it. We realised then what she’d done, so I phoned the ambulance. They said it was safer to keep her on the ground where she was, put her in the recovery position and not to move her. We made her as comfortable as we could … and that’s when Carly came and got you.”

Matty’s eyes begin to pool with tears again, his vision clouded as he can only imagine all too easily how the scene had played out. He feels sick with worry over you; guilty and ashamed at his own actions which had acted as a catalyst; and intense rage at whoever dealt the drug to you tonight.

“If she’d injected, it meant she’d cooked it …” Adam speaks aloud.

“I’ve never shown her how …” Matty trails off as he defends himself. “I never had that stuff around her.”

“We know, mate,” Ross reassures him. “You would never do anything to put her in harms way.”

“What if she gets addicted now?” Matty asks in a whisper, fear evident in his voice.

“She won’t,” Ross replies confidently.

“How can you be so sure?” he asks.

“You know her, mate. Just this once would have terrified her enough to never touch it again. She never used anything before and tonight would have been a one off. She probably met the wrong bastard tonight who took advantage. She probably thought that one time wouldn’t hurt her; that she’d be lucky,” he bases his assumption on how well he knows you.

Leaning back in his chair and resting his head against the wall, Matty closes his eyes. Bouncing his knee nervously, he draws a deep in-breath before murmuring, “I don’t want her going through the same thing as me. All I ever wanted to do was protect her from it. It was … different for me, I guess. It’s like I fell down a rabbit hole — the first time I took it and could disassociate from life — it was like a release. And I know it put a lot of pressure on us as a band, but …”

“Mate, you had an addiction. You were ill,” Adam intervenes, comforting his friend as whole new can of worms is about to be exposed about one of the worst times they’d experienced in their career as a band; but first and foremost, within their friendship.

“Didn’t mean I had to push her away, though,” Matty whispers. “I was so lucky when I went to rehab. Some people in that place had nothing; they’d lost their family and friends, their homes, their jobs, their money. I had everything; my family, you guys, I had her. But I still left rehab and scored other drugs and fucked everything up anyway,” he sighs deeply, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, mate,” Ross pipes up, resting a hand on Matty’s knee.

“She was always there for me,” Matty continues. “I just couldn’t be the boyfriend she needed me to be, but if I could go back and do it all again, I would do things so differently,” he whispers. “I should never have let her go.”

“Sounds like we’re not the ones you should be saying this to,” Adam half smiles.

Matty bites his lip, his thoughts running away with him as a comfortable silence fills the room.

He notes that his white dress shirt is still unbuttoned three from the top and the memory of the sordid make out session he had encountered earlier that night makes him feel queasy, a harsh reminder of the tragedy.

“How … how did you know what to do anyway?” Matty stutters as he clears his throat, breaking the quietness that had temporarily engulfed them.

Ross shrugs, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair before replying.

“I guess … well … we all kind of wanted to learn how to respond in that … situation … incase it was ever … you,” he’s careful with his words. Whilst Matty’s addiction had never been an attempt on his own life, the idea of an accidental overdose had spurred the rest of the band on recognising the signs, as well as the basics in how to respond to any such situation.

Although honesty was a crucial part of their friendship, talking about Matty’s heroin addiction had always been a difficult subject to approach. The illness had taken a toll on his physical and mental health, had destructed his relationships, and had negatively impacted his song writing. Rehab helped him get back to the person he once was before the addiction.

“I fucking love you guys,” Matty manages to choke out around the lump that formed in his throat at the turn in conversation, and for the first time this evening, he smiles a genuine smile.

With the small distance between the two of them sitting opposite each other, Adam, with his arms crossed firmly over his chest, gently taps his foot against Matty’s — and it’s a minor physical touch that would usually result in a game of footsies between the pair — only this time, it’s a reassuring nudge that would normally be a wordless indication of their feelings; but Adam finds it within him to vocalise an emotional, “We love you too, mate.”

As quickly as the three men succumb to another comfortable silence, it’s broken once again, with Ross not wanting to give Matty the opportunity to get too into his head with the lack of conversation between them, understanding his friend well enough to know he’d be imagining all sorts of scenarios — none of which likely to be positive.

“Do you need to go for a cig?” Ross asks.

“No,” Matty shakes his head — and it’s a shock to both the other men in the room. Someone who seemingly can’t go five minutes without a cigarette during a live performance actively turning down the vice he uses each day. “Don’t want t’ leave her,” he adds.

Almost as if on cue, a doctor donning a white coat and firmly gripping a clipboard with important documents attached in his large hands, enters the family room and introduces himself to all three men.

He shakes hands with Matty, who is the first to approach him.

Matty quickly fires questions at the medical professional, not once missing a beat as he barely catches his breath in between the queries about your health.

“How is she? Is she ok? Can I see her?”

Ross comes to stand behind him and rests a supportive hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze, to remind him of his friends’ presence — and that he’s not alone.

The doctor gives a reassuring smile, the first giveaway that your outcome is a positive one.

“I am sorry to tell you that y/n did in fact overdose on heroin; we’re yet to determine if that was intentional or accidental. The paramedics on scene administered Naloxone to reverse the effect of the opioid but another dose was required since fentanyl was also present. That combined with the level of alcohol in her system caused the severe reaction tonight, making it much easier to overdose, which is why it took her longer to respond to treatment.”

Matty groans at the information. The thought of you having mixed three substances together, although likely unknowingly, has him feeling physically sick at your vulnerability; and someone else’s cruelty.

“Fuck,” he shakily mutters under his breath, knowing just how severe this is. Shaking his head, he murmurs a quiet, “Sorry,” before allowing the doctor to continue with his medical findings.

“Since there’s no medical history of y/n experiencing seizures, it’s more than likely that it was brought on by the drug itself. Taking that into account, there doesn’t seem to be any reason as to why y/n won’t make a full recovery so overall I’d say she’s very lucky,” he pauses, before looking between the three men. “She’s awake, but is still a little drowsy, which is to be expected. I’d still like to keep her in for observation overnight, just as a precaution,” he says.

Whilst Matty understands the importance and necessity of this monologue, it seems to take forever for the doctor to spiel medical jargon, before he finally speaks aloud the words that Matty longs to hear.

“You can go and see her.”

It takes a few minutes for Matty to pluck up the courage to enter your hospital room to see you, his palms beginning to sweat out of anxiousness and his heart occasionally skipping a beat. He’d been desperate to remain by your side since arriving at the hospital, a strong desire to interfere with the doctors and nurses that had tended to your lifeless body, almost as though he could be the one to cure you.

Questions plague his mind as he runs through several scenarios.

Would you even want to see him after the events that had built up to your accidental overdose tonight? After all, if he hadn’t been so concerned with getting his end away with a random, then you wouldn’t have felt the need to find a vice to cope with your feelings. He was the reason you were here — and he’s probably the last person you want to see.

What would he say to you? No words in the English language could be vocalised to condone his behaviour this evening. Sadly, your latest memory of him was a sordid, dirty, not-so-secret make out session in the corner of a room — not very classy, and not in the least bit romantic. Sorry seemed false; even though he was undeniably apologetic, but no amount of regret could rewind the clock, no matter how much he wished for it.

Running a hand over his face, he rids himself of any negative thoughts, composing himself. He had to stop being selfish; to remove any egotistical notion of himself. This wasn't about him anymore. This was about you.

He takes a deep breath before placing his hand on the doorknob. He pushes it gently so that the door is fractionally ajar, so as not to startle you, and then, almost impatiently, he extends his arm, opening the door fully to reveal you to him.

His eyes find you immediately. Your fragile figure lays still in the hospital bed, looking almost helpless and it saddens Matty to see because he knows how much you would hate that. He avoids reacting to your demeanour, not wishing to alarm you.

Still, you were conscious.

“Hey,” he whisper breathes a sigh of relief, giving you a small smile. “You look better than when I last saw you,” Matty tells you softly, as he comes to stand at the end of your hospital bed, his patent shoes clicking against the tiles when he halts.

Hands in his pockets, he looks rough; you note; as though he hasn’t slept in weeks. The stubble around his jawline denotes he hasn't shaved in the last couple of weeks at least, most likely due to tour commitments. His dishevelled hair is a solid indicator that he’s run his hand through it many times — or someone else has — and perhaps it's because you haven’t seen him in a while — or maybe it’s because he’s mid-thirties — but the grey strands are becoming more prominent atop of his head.

He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, anxiously, although attentively, observing your surroundings. Monitors bleep around you, screens recording your vitals — numbers that mean absolutely nothing to him — but the consistency that the machines offer indicates that you must be within healthy ranges. Bags of liquid are hanging on a drip stand and IV’s are inserted into your veins pumping unknown substances into your body.

Removing a hand from his pocket, he nervously clears his throat as he slowly makes his way around the bed and towards you, before finally stopping beside you. Tentatively, he lowers himself and perches on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking slightly beneath his weight.

Even in your drowsy state, lethargy consuming your entire body, you roll your eyes at his comment and Matty’s never been happier to hear a breathy laugh escape your lips. Reaching for the oxygen mask, you attempt to remove it, but Matty’s hand is quickly placed over yours, stopping you from doing so.

“No, no, keep it on darling,” he whispers delicately.

Your lack of energy, consumed by tiredness, as well as the the throbbing pain across your forehead ensures you don’t fight him on this one, instantly giving up, your hand going slack underneath his. Satisfied that you won’t oppose his actions any further, he rests his hand against his thigh.

Matty’s eyes avert to your other hand which rests atop of the hospital blanket. He’s somewhat hesitant before deciding to reach towards you, his fingertips brushing against your skin, careful not to dislodge the drip inserted into a prominent vein. When you don’t flinch at the physical contact, he encloses your hand within his own.

Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes, as though his admission will be more bearable to speak aloud if he can’t see your reaction.

“I was so scared,” he whispers.

He opens his eyes again, drinking in your exhausted demeanour.

“I was so fucking scared,” he repeats, with equally as much conviction as the first time.

“Matty,” you whisper tearfully at his words, your tone apologetic.

“Never wan’ to see you like that ever again, you hear me? You … you don’t get to do that,” his words are a firm warning but he lacks any threat with a soft tone, an oxymoron of emotions engulfing him as his voice wavers, his thumb skimming the upside of your hand. “You don’t get to do that to me. Can’t lose you darling.”

He swallows the lump that’s formed in his throat. Metaphorically, he’d already lost you in the midst of a relationship breakdown — but the mere thought of you losing your life to the same substance he had battled an addiction with for several years would literally break him.

You reach for your oxygen mask once again, and when Matty attempts to prevent you from doing so a second time, you swat his hand away — albeit pathetically — removing it from your face.

“I didn’t mean to,” you desperately try to convince him. “It was an accident,” you tell him, tears pooling in your eyes.

One of the machines begins to beep harshly, the numbers displayed on the screen increasing rapidly, and Matty immediately realises that your heart rate has spiked.

Determined to soothe you, Matty reassuringly squeezes your hand.

“I know, darling. I know. Just calm down for me, yeah?” he encourages, leaning forward to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You offer a small nod in response although his words seem to have no positive effect as the bleeping continues with the same level of consistency, numbers incessantly and hastily increasing.

“Listen to me, y/n,” his tone is firmer this time, obvious desperation laced in his words. “I need you to calm down for me. Take a deep breath,” he models it himself, inhaling air deeply into his lungs through his nose and exhaling through his parted lips.

You copy him, mirroring his actions a few times.

“If you need this again,” he gestures towards the oxygen mask but you shake your head as your breathing begins to regulate a little and the numbers on the heart rate monitor gradually decrease once more.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you assure him.

He nods, understanding, but encourages you to continue, “Deep breaths, love.”

You compose yourself relatively quickly, almost surprised at your own resilience as you inhale and exhale a few more times, steadying your breaths and repeating the action until you’re fully calm.

“That’s it,” he praises, stroking your hand with his own, whilst his other hand finds its fingers twirling through your hair, stroking loose strands out of your face.

He takes a few moments, allowing you to succumb to the peace that surrounds you both — but he has questions and he yearns for answers.

“Do you think you can tell me what happened tonight?” he practically dares to ask.

You shift uncomfortably beneath the thin blanket that covers you, barely keeping you warm. Taking a deep breath, you nod, nervousness consuming you as you brace yourself, preparing to inform Matty about the events that had occurred earlier that evening.

“I saw you,” you state matter of factly, although it’s not news to him. “You were with someone … another girl,” you clarify.

Your gaze subconsciously averts away from Matty’s but out of the corner of your eye, you’re hyperaware that he also follows suit, unable to make eye contact with each other at the harsh admission. Your cheeks redden slightly in embarrassment, whilst his features are full of guilt.

“I saw you coming out of the bathroom together at first. I didn’t realise it was serious, not until … well, I came down to the lounge and you were … the two of you were …” you trail off, fiddling with the hospital admission band around your wrist that suddenly becomes interesting.

The pads of Matty’s thumbs gently massage your skin, encouraging you to continue. Raising his head and meeting your gaze, you’re able to find the strength to carry on.

“I was upset and didn’t want to feel anything. I’d had a lot to drink but that wasn’t numbing the pain. So when I was offered heroin,” you shrug. “It never affected you that way so I thought … I thought I’d be ok,” you whimper, your bottom lip trembling.

“Darling,” Matty whispers, his thumb gently soothing your skin as your hand remains enveloped in his. “It affects everyone differently. There’s so many factors that affect someone’s reaction to drugs — the amount you’ve taken, it’s purity, what it’s cut with, the method of using …” he begins to list.

“I know, I know,” you shake your head, cutting him off.

You already felt foolish enough for ever trusting the guy you’d met tonight in the kitchen — felt embarrassed that many people had seen you unconscious against the cold tiles, vomiting and experiencing a seizure. Whilst you know it’s not Matty’s intention, the last thing you want — or need — is a lecture.

Instantly understanding, Matty drops the topic as quick as he'd raised it, and instead, decides to pass on the good news.

“The doctor says you’re lucky; reckons you’ll make a full recovery. You just need to rest,” he breathes a sigh of relief himself as his sentence rolls effortlessly off of his tongue.

Your ears prick up at his words and you give him a hopeful smile.

“Does that mean I can go home?” you ask, suddenly sitting yourself upright, ignoring the pounding in your head accompanied by the dizziness, in turn making you feel a little nauseous.

Home.

Matty wonders where home is for you now.

In an ideal world, Matty would want you living with him again — reliving your favourite memories that you experienced as the couple you once were when you were unconditionally in love with each other, as well as making new ones together.

You’d be waking up in his bed each morning; sometimes to sex, always to coffee, with mundane household chores threatening to be completed as adulthood entailed cooking, cleaning, tag teaming washing the dishes, and starting petty arguments over whose turn it was to dispose of the rubbish on bin day (it was his turn every week).

He would give the world and more to have you telling him that you don’t mind what film you watched together — even though you did — only for you to fall asleep within minutes of putting it on. He would ensure that you have warm, fluffy towels for after your bubble bath, and you’d be welcomed into the kitchen with the inviting aromas of your favourite dishes that he’d cook for you.

Matty would keep you safe — always — keeping a watchful eye over you so as something like this could never occur again, giving not one single soul the opportunity to hurt his girl — and the realisation dawns on him that perhaps one of his downfalls was that no matter how hard he tried in this lifetime, he couldn’t protect you from everything.

“They want to keep you in overnight,” he breaks the bad news to you, regrettably.

“No,” you whine, emitting a groan as you roll your eyes to the ceiling.

“‘m sorry, love,” his tone is apologetic, “But they want to monitor you.”

“Please, Matty. I’m fine! Please see if they will discharge me tonight,” you beg, your doe-eyes pleading with him.

“Darling,” he murmurs softly, stroking your hand reassuringly once again. “You overdosed on heroin, which was cut with fentanyl, by the way,” he informs you, before continuing matter of factly, “Your alcohol levels were through the roof, you had a seizure and you were sick. You’re in the best place right now.”

There was truth behind Matty’s words and you know it. Admitting defeat, you know there’s no arguing against the doctor’s decision to monitor you overnight.

Instead, you ask, “Stay?” your tone nervous, as you softly plead with Matty. “Will you stay with me?”

Matty exhales a shaky breath, offering a small smile as relief washes over him that you want him; need him.

“Of course I’ll stay, ‘m not going anywhere.”

There’s not much time to succumb to the silence that threatens to engulf the two of you as a hesitant knock, accompanied by a throat-clearing cough, can be heard against the grey door to your hospital room. Straining your neck and peering towards the entrance, you notice two figures lingering in the doorway, one of which is leaning against the doorframe.

Matty whips his head around to see who the disruption is, before turning back to meet your gaze and announcing with a small smile, “I think someone want to say hello.”

As if on cue, Ross and Adam enter your hospital bay and approach you. Coming to stand beside you, Ross acknowledges you with a small kiss to your temple and Adam rests a hand atop of your hospital blanket, reassuringly squeezing your leg.

“How’re doing?” Adam is the first to ask, as they each take a seat in the grey plastic chairs beside your bed.

You give a small nod and shrug in tandem.

“I’m ok,” you tell them — although even you know that they know that you’re not being entirely truthful so you decide to elaborate on your answer further, providing them with some honesty at least. “I’m tired and have a headache, but other than that I’m alright.”

“You scared us back there,” Ross pipes up, worry evident in his tone.

“I’m sorry,” your eyes avert to your hand enveloped in Matty’s.

“Don’t be,” Ross softly murmurs, shaking his head and resting a hand atop of your arm.

You shake your head in protest.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” you tell them apologetically, sincerely adding, “I’m sorry that you had to deal with me like that.” You shake your head slightly, closing your eyes for a brief second as embarrassment consumes you.

“’s not your fault,” Ross tells you. “We’re just glad you’re ok.”

“Thank you,” your eyes flit between the three of them this time, acutely aware of the vital role they had all played tonight in getting you the help you needed from the emergency services. You can only imagine how terrifying and surreal the ordeal must have been for them as well.

“Don’t need to thank us,” Matty furrows his brows.

“If you hadn’t …” you begin. “I’d be dead,” you state it so matter of factly, that Matty feels physically ill.

“Don’t, y/n,” he gently warns, unable to fathom any other outcome.

Silence fills the room, further accentuating the bleeping sounds of the machines that whir around you. For the first time, it’s an awkward quietness, seemingly uncomfortable between the four of you once the discussion had taken a darker turn.

However, there’s still one more topic of conversation dancing on the lips of the three men amongst you but nobody has seemed willing to take the lead in voicing their thoughts just yet — that is until Ross clears his throat, less confident than he actually appears as he delivers his question.

“Who gave it to you?” he asks, a strong desire to know who dealt you the drug.

“I don’t know,” you shrug.

“Please, y/n,” Matty begs breathlessly, his eyes finding the ceiling. “Please don’t protect anyone,” he pleads, the pad of his thumb continuously circling itself against your hand.

“I don’t know,” you repeat. “Honestly. It was a random guy who got talking to me. I didn’t even ask his name.”

Your earnest tone is all that’s needed for them to know you’re telling the truth; you’d just been unfortunate enough for your vulnerable self to fall victim to the dealer this evening, him cruelly having taken full advantage of your distressed state.

"If I ever find out who it was," Matty begins, using his free hand to clench his fist out of anger.

“Don’t,” you practically beg, shaking your head. “Please don’t. It was my own fault. I should never have listened to him or trusted him in the first place. It was a bad idea and I knew it. I just went against my own judgement in the heat of the moment and acted on impulse.”

Whilst you knew how it appeared, you really weren’t defending the dealer who had provided you with the substance and tools that could have resulted in you ending your life tonight — but the last thing you wanted was violence. Neither Matty, Ross or Adam had fighting tendencies and that wasn’t about to change because of you and your one mistake.

Ross sniggers slightly, before raising an eyebrow as he looks between you and Matty.

“Impulse? You two really are perfect for each other,” he laughs.

You roll your eyes at the humour implied in his light hearted comment. It was public knowledge that Matty would often find himself in hot water due to acting on impulse, often through the portrayal of an online persona, or through expressing controversies during live performance and interviews.

You had often scolded him during your relationship, heavily reminded him of his role model status to many young and impressionable fans, because his words had consequences, often resulting in him being ‘cancelled.’

Before you can respond, another small knock at the door indicates an interruption for the second time — saddened when the nurse on call entered the room and informed you that only one person could be at your bedside for the remainder of the night.

Adam emits a groan, admitting defeat once the nurse bids you farewell for the night, although not before reminding both you and Matty that she’s on duty throughout the course of the early hours and until sunrise, so if you needed anything, she was your go-to.

“Suppose we best be off then,” Adam rolls his eyes.

“You take care,” Ross offers you a smile and presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “See you soon, mate,” he reaches forwards and offers Matty a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You look after her,” he finishes his goodbyes.

Once the hustle and bustle of them leaving your hospital room subsides, you and Matty are left only in each other's company, surrounded by a comfortable silence once more.

Your eyes avert to the window of your hospital room as you observe the outside world, nothing but darkness consuming everything at this ungodly hour, with the exception of the few street lamps that light up the hospital car park that your room overlooks.

With your hand still enveloped within Matty’s, you can feel his eyes focussing on you — and you alone.

“I’m ok,” you whisper softly, turning to Matty, distracting him from his own thoughts.

“Hmm?” he hums, indicating that he had been out of touch with reality. Your statement had grounded him, bringing him mentally back into the room with you as he looks up to meet your gaze.

“I said I’m ok,” you repeat, and it’s your turn to massage the palm of his hand with your thumb, reassuring him you are physically well — and alive.

He nods in acknowledgement but it’s clear he has a lot plaguing his mind. You decide not to push him just yet, knowing him well enough that he’ll communicate his thoughts and feelings on his terms, although you're surprised when his response comes almost immediately.

“I thought …,” Matty exhales a shaky breath, tears pooling in his eyes, “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologise, your bottom lip trembles, the heightened emotions you’re both feeling needing to be addressed with each other properly. There was still so much to say, so many things you had to discuss, questions that had to be asked, answers that needed clarifying.

Matty shakes his head vigorously, stopping you from continuing your apology.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” his tone is full of sincerity. “I just need you to know that … if I’d lost you … I don’t know what I’d do.”

He chokes on a sob, the memory of your unconscious body sprawled across the kitchen floor still haunting him — and he fears that your lifeless frame will appear in his nightmares every time he closes his eyes. Bringing your hand up to his lips, he presses a soft and tender kiss against your skin.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“Matty,” you breathe, comprehending his words immediately.

“I love you so much, darling,” he whispers.

“I love you too,” you reply, barely missing a beat.

He knew it were true; you didn’t say things you didn’t mean.

“I’m sorry if I ever … that I let you down,” he adds — and it’s not a comment out of guilt or pity for himself. It’s an apology to you — an earnest admission, honest and sincere, as he recalls the times when he hadn’t been the boyfriend he should have been for you.

“You haven’t,” you whimper, choking on a sob, emotion overcoming you at the sudden change in dynamic of the conversation. “Matty, you never let me down. You had an addiction! I know that you came off the heroin after rehab but you were still battling a drug addiction. You still needed something to get through life, a vice to help you cope. If anything, I’m sorry that I didn’t recognise the signs sooner and get you help.”

“Darling,” Matty gently warns.

Whilst he understands the importance of this much needed conversation between the two of you, it’s a topic he doesn’t want to explore too deeply just yet — there’s plenty of time to discuss everything that had contributed to the breakdown of your relationship but right now, you needed to focus on your own recovery from tonight.

“Not now, eh?” it’s a rhetorical comment.

Before he can stop himself, he leans forward, resting his forehead gently against your own. It’s the closest he’s been all night and you can still smell the smoke that lingers on his clothes; the warmth of his breath fanning your cheeks each time he softly exhales. He feels like home. His eyes avert downwards towards his hand intertwined with your own in his lap — and it feels right.

“We have a lot to talk about,” you whisper, breaking the silence, your lips a hairs breadth from his.

Nervously gulping, as though an in love, giddy teenager, Matty agrees.

“Yeah, we do. But it can wait, darling. You need to rest.”

You shake your head, a feeble attempt at protesting against his suggestion.

“Rest, sweetheart,” he reiterates. “We can talk about everything tomorrow, yeah?”

You both know you won’t. Matty will still want to give you time to recover, waiting on you hand and foot, treating you as though you’re made of glass for at least the next month — but you don’t actually think you’d mind.

“I’ll still be here. I’m not going anywhere,” he reaches forwards, resting his palm gently against your cheek.

Muscle memory, instinct, and habit amalgamate and you tilt your head towards his hand, leaning into his soft touch on your face. The welcomed familiarity makes your heart swell as he cradles your cheek. Inching forwards ever so slightly, Matty presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his soft, plush lips lingering against your skin for longer than necessary — but you weren't complaining.

“‘m not going anywhere,” he repeats quietly, emotion thick in his voice as he swallows the small lump that has formed in his throat, his brain in overdrive as he contemplates the magnitude of events that had occurred tonight.

“You promise?” you question, as you raise your hand to cover his own, your fingers intertwining with his against your blush cheeks.

“I promise.”

74 notes · View notes

m-jelly · 7 months

Text

Tea for two - Chapter 9

Pairing: Post-war Levi x Fem!Reader

Tags and warnings: Canon world, post-war, injured Levi, scarred Levi, romance, falling in love, fluff, angst, emotional pain, emotional Levi, dad Levi, baby.

In this chapter: You are attacked on your way home to Levi, but Levi saves you. Levi surprises you with a gift he's made before you two enjoy a swim right as the baby decides it is time to arrive. You and Levi have a sweet moment together on your date out with the baby.

AO3 Link

The end

Levi winced a little as he limped after you. “Darling, don’t go.”

You fixed your little cape and turned to him to show off your big baby bump. “I have to get some stuff for you.”

He sighed. “I know, but…”

You cupped his face and kissed him. “Go in your wheelchair.”

Levi welled up a little. “I haven’t used that in months. I don’t want to go back.”

You wrapped your arms around Levi and hugged him tightly. “I know, but you’ve hurt your knee.”

“I pushed myself too hard when I trained with your dad.”

You led him to his chair and sat him down. “Levi, there is nothing wrong with not feeling strong sometimes. You can’t always be one hundred per cent.”

He held your hand. “I understand, but you need to rest too.”

“The baby and I will be perfectly okay.” You kissed his forehead. “I’ll go buy your meds and some nice baked goods and I’ll be right back.”

He sighed. “Okay. Kiss.”

You giggled and kissed him. “Love you.”

“Love you always, Mrs Ackerman.”

You winked at him. “That’s right.” You grabbed your shopping basket and pulled your hood up. “Love you, Levi and our baby loves you too.”

Levi blew you a kiss. “Be careful.”

You waved to him before leaving the home. The air was nice and cool, but there was a threat of rain. You were hoping that your cape would protect you. Both you and Levi were excited to have a summer baby. The names you picked were perfect for a sweet baby. You were both hoping it was a girl so you could call her Kuchel. Kuchel was a wonderful mother to Levi. She reminded him of a flower, which bloomed the strongest in summer.

You gazed up when you heard a distant rumble. Thunderstorms were nice and relaxing when you were inside your home, but not so much when you were out and about. You were hoping that you could finish shopping before the storm arrived. You picked up the pace and made it to the pharmacy. You smiled at the man behind the counter who recognised you right away.

He hurried to the collection point and grabbed Levi’s medication. “Here you are, Mrs Ackerman. I’ll also get you some stuff for you and the baby, free of charge.”

Your cheeks burned at his kindness. “Oh, thank you so much.”

“Not a problem. Least I could do for the wife of the amazing Captain.”

You placed the meds in your basket as you felt a little awkward. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

“Take care now, all right? It looks like there is a storm coming.”

You bowed your head to him. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”

The air was still outside, which concerned you because it meant the storm was getting closer. You hurried to the bakery and picked a few nice things for Levi and you to share. The last stop was to get something for Bo because he deserved a treat. You picked a few things and became distracted by a baby shop. You slipped inside and bought an adorable blanket, along with things that had references to Daddy.

“Unbelievable.”

You turned and gazed at your ex-best friend. “Claude.”

He scrunched his nose up at you. “I cut ties with you because you got involved with that foul man. I went to your home to forgive you, but you weren’t there.” He glared at your swollen belly. “Are you fucking pregnant?”

You turned away from him and went to the till. You paid for everything as he shouted your name. You were done with this man and his insults towards your husband. You were just done and wanted to go home. Plus, your feet were killing you from carrying a baby in your belly. You tried to ignore Claude chasing after you as it started to spit.

Claude grabbed your upper arm. “Would you just talk to me!”

You yanked your arm from his grip. “I have nothing to say to you! You cut ties. You were done. Once you cut, there is no going back. Release me and leave me alone.”

“You married him. Is that his baby too?”

You placed your hand on your belly. “Yes, and this baby is ours.” You let out a long sigh. “I have to get home to my husband before the rain gets worse.”

Claude snarled as you started walking away. “Get back here! Don’t walk away from me!”

You moved a little faster. “Leave me alone! I’m done with you and you’re done with me. There is no use in chasing me down!”

Claude ran after you as he shouted your name over the pouring rain and thunder. “He will lead to your death.”

You stopped and turned in the street. “No. No, he won’t. Levi is an incredible man who I love with everything within me. You have no say in who I love. We are done as friends. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“I love you!”

You stared at Claude as he looked at you with pleading eyes. The rain was so loud and the thunder roared through the town. “You’re unbelievable. Do you think I’d fall for that? Even if that were true, do you really think I would drop everything and run into your arms? I want you out of my life.”

“I am not letting you go!”

“If you don’t let me leave, I will contact the authorities.”

Claude moved closer to you. “He’s controlling you.”

You let out a long sigh. “You are exhausting to talk to. I’m going home because I’m sure my husband is worried about me being in this storm.”

“Just listen to me.”

“Goodbye, Claude.”

Claude grabbed you by your upper arm and yanked you hard before releasing you due to the hard whiplash. He flinched when he heard a crack. Your head had hit the wall. Claude shook a little when you slumped to the floor. His heart jumped to his throat when he heard your name screamed by a familiar voice over the rain and thunder. Fear surged through him. Cautiously he turned to see Levi holding his cane with Bo at his side, both of them racing over.

Levi dropped to his knees and ignored the pain shooting through his left leg. He cradled your face and saw some blood. “Talk to me. Come on, darling.”

You opened your eyes and smiled softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t hurry home.”

“It’s okay.” He kissed your forehead. “It’s okay.”

“Claude stopped me from going home.”

Levi kissed you. “Sit there with Bo, okay?”

You hummed. “Okay.”

Levi rose to his feet and glared at Claude. He clenched his cane tightly as his rage consumed him. “What did you do?”

Claude shook in fear. Though he was taller than Levi, Levi was a very terrifying man because of how strong he was and how dedicated he was to justice and what was right. It was very clear to Claude that he was going to be beaten. The first smack hit him in the gut causing him to double over in pain. The second went up against his face sending him backwards and slamming against the floor. A strong and ball-breaking kick connected with his privates, he was sure something had ruptured.

You stumbled to your feet and whined. “Levi?”

Levi stopped his attack and turned to you. “Darling?”

You limped over to him. “Can we go home?”

He nodded and put his arm around you. “Use my cane and me.” He took your basket and held it in his other hand. “We need to get you home.”

You walked together in silence for a while as the storm grew closer. You gazed at Levi to see his stoic look, but you knew a lot was going on in his head. “Thank you for protecting me.”

“I’ll do anything for you.”

“You’re the best. I love you.”

He smiled a little. “Love you always.” He unlocked the front door and helped you inside. “Go change.”

“Yes.”

Levi put the food away and quickly took his meds. He checked your basket and felt his heart flutter at the baby things. “Tch, adorable.” He sighed and looked at Bo. “Your mum is so cute.” He gathered the baby things and the first aid, along with a drink and meds. He moved into the bedroom to see you pulling on your night dress. “Ready?”

You sat on the bed and hummed. “Yes.”

He sat next to you and began cleaning your wound. “I haven’t done this in so many years.”

“Is it bringing back scout memories?”

Levi hummed a laugh. “Yeah, good ones as well. The cadets used to push themselves or do stupid shit during training.” He inspected the cute and saw it didn’t need stitches and only a patch. “I would patch them up.” He placed a patch on your head and handed you a drink and meds. “Hange would too, but seeing as they trained under me, I thought it was best for me to do it.”

You gulped down everything and sighed. “Thanks. I bet you were a wonderful Captain.”

“Sometimes.” He picked up the baby things. “These are adorable. You got all daddy things. What about mummy things?”

“Oh, well I might get those next time.”

Levi saw you fiddling with your dress, meaning you were anxious. He placed his hand on yours. “I’ll get them. I want to buy more for you and the baby.”

You laughed. “You spoil us plenty.”

“I need to spoil you more.”

You giggled as Bo nudged his face against your baby bump, so you fussed him. “All right. I’ll allow it.”

“Thank you.” He pulled his wet clothes off and changed into his night things. “I’ll sort out the washing.”

You hummed. “But your leg.”

He cupped your face and kissed the end of your nose. “You are far more important. Now, I need you to be a good girl and stay awake for a while.”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you have a headache?”

“No.”

“Promise?”

You grinned at him. “Yep! You know why?”

He smiled. “Why?”

“Because I want you to call me a good girl.”

Levi stared at you as his heart throbbed in his chest. “Now, those are some flirting words.”

You giggled. “I’ll behave 'cause we’re both unwell.”

He pressed the end of your nose. “Just wait until we’re better.”

You gulped hard as a tingle went through your body. You looked down at Bo as he gazed at you with his tail wagging. You hummed a laugh and petted him. “Your daddy is a wild man. I love it.”

Levi was in his massive back garden full of life. He was busy making something special with his carpentry skills. Being retired from the scouts and casually running his shop meant he had a lot of time on his hands. People need hobbies to keep them busy and it is fun to make progress. So, Levi started making things out of wood and had a great skill for it.

He shifted back from what he was making and admired his work. Sweat rolled down his back as the sun beamed down on him. He grabbed his rag and wiped his sweat a little. He grabbed a bobble, pushed his hair back and proceeded to tie it back into a little top knot with a few strands loose. He gripped his shirt and tugged it off. Sweat glistened on Levi’s muscles and scars.

“Sexy.”

Levi turned and gazed at you holding a tray of drinks. “Thank you.”

You waddled over to him and placed the tray down. “I could just take a bite out of you.”

“Please do.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. “Mm, tasty husband.”

Levi squeezed your waist. “You’re the delicious one.”

“Thank you.”

He shifted his hands to cup your belly. “How are you and the baby?”

You grinned at him. “Perfectly well. I am fit to burst though.”

“The little one is overdue.”

“They are.” You sighed and rubbed your belly. “They’re not ready yet and that’s okay.”

He lowered his head. “Mm.”

You cupped Levi’s face and lifted. “I know, I know, you’re excited to meet them. You just have to wait a little longer. You can do that, right?”

Levi’s cheeks turned pink as he smiled. “Yes.”

“Good boy.” You looked around him. “What are you making?”

Levi shifted out of the way. “It’s for you. It’s a rocking chair for you to sit in with the baby. I can use it too, but I mainly made it for you for comfort.”

You welled up. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Levi.”

He held your hand and helped you sit in it. “Comfy?”

You hummed a laugh as you rocked back and forth. “This is amazing.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “You did incredible.”

He knelt between your legs. “I’m glad.”

You reached over and petted Levi’s head. “You’re better than you think you are. You have such an amazing talent.”

He rested his head on your lap. “Thank you.” He looked over at Bo staring at him. “No, Bo, this is my lap.”

You giggled at Bo sulking. “You’re both very cute and funny.”

Levi pressed his face into your thighs and lap. “Comfy.”

“I was thinking we go for a swim today. I heard it’s good for pregnant ladies because it eases the weight they carry.”

Levi clenched up a little and lifted his head. “Yes, we’ll go for a swim. Anything to help.” He jumped to his feet and pulled you up. “Do you need help changing?”

You sighed. “I do.” You smiled at the rocking chair. “We should put this in the living room. It’s perfection.” You ran your fingers over the detailed etching. “I love it so much.”

“I’m glad.”

You jumped into Levi’s arms. “My talented and cool husband.” You covered his face in kisses. “Love you.”

“I love you.” He glanced and looked at the scar on your forehead. “Let’s get you in that nice cool water.”

You squealed in delight. “Yay!”

Levi ushered you into the house. “Go change and I’ll bring your chair in.”

“I’m gonna add a nice a nice blanket and cushion to that lovely chair.”

Levi blushed at how much you adored something he made you. He lifted the chair and set it in the living room. He added a cushion and a blanket that he knew you liked. “Darling? I made your seat extra comfy.”

You walked out in your swimming things and gazed at the rocking chair. You welled up at how cute it looked. “Oh…oh…oh, I love it!” You hugged Levi tightly. “You’re the best.”

Levi held you tightly. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll make more things.”

You smiled at him. “I love the cot you made our baby.”

Levi blushed bright red. “I’ll make them a rocking horse when they’re older.”

“That’d be perfect.”

He cupped your face and kissed you. “I’ll get changed. Rest for a bit, okay?”

You shifted and plopped yourself on the rocking chair. You moved back and forth as you felt yourself relax. “I love this chair. This might be my new favourite chair.”

Levi joined you and heard what you said. “You like it that much?”

“I do.”

“Mm…” He blushed a little. “I can’t get over this. Sorry, I keep asking if you like it, but I just need reassurance.”

You got out of the chair. “No need to say sorry. I’m the same with food I cook and bake.”

“I love all your baking and cooking.”

You giggled. “Thank you. Shall we take some food and drink?”

“I’ll pack, you rest.”

You huffed a little. “I want to do a few things.”

Levi chuckled as he started to get food and drink to put in a bag. “Well, you need to rest.”

You ran up behind him and grabbed his pecs. “Mean.”

He smiled when you bit his shoulder. “You’re adorable.”

“I love you.”

Levi turned in your arms and smiled at you. “I love you.”

You leaned closer and captured his lips in a sweet and loving kiss. “My Levi.”

He released a happy sigh. “Yours. Now, be a good girl and wait by the front door for me.”

Your cheeks burned at his words. “Yes, Levi.”

He packed the bag and made sure he had things for Bo. He pulled the bag on his back and walked over to you. “Ready?”

You grabbed his hand. “Yes.”

Levi led you through the front garden, across the road and down the beach path to the private spot he owned. He set up the seats always there and made sure yours was extra comfy. “Okay, it’s all ready.”

You pulled your beach dress off and kicked your shoes off. “I’m going for a swim!”

Levi huffed when he watched you hurriedly waddle to the water. “Be careful!” He yanked his shirt off and ran after you. “Troublesome brat.”

You giggled and flopped into the water causing Levi to be splashed. “Got ya!”

Levi dove under the water and swam up to you. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better. The weight of the baby has been eased.”

He moved closer to you. “You’re so amazing. You carry and grow our sweet baby. They must be so heavy.”

You nodded. “Mm, that’s right.”

Levi moved behind you, linked his fingers together and raised your belly. “Oh wow, this is heavy. Our baby is a big one.”

You moaned in delight and leaned against Levi. “That’s incredible.”

Levi smiled and held your tummy. “I’ll do this for as long as you need.”

You closed your eyes and relaxed against him. “Thank you.” You frowned a little when you heard quiet splashing. You opened your eyes to see Bo paddling past. “He really loves the water.”

Levi chuckled. “It’s hard to keep him out.” He sighed. “Little bugger.”

You laughed. “He’s a happy boy. He’ll be a wonderful big brother.”

“I think so too.” Levi lowered your belly carefully, wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “This is the life. I never thought years ago this would happen to me. I thought I had lost everything, but you entered my life and brought light and life into it. You are truly my everything.”

You reached up and squeezed his upper arm. “I can tell you’re worried about something.”

“I am. I’m nothing without you and I know childbirth is a scary thing. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. I’m strong, Levi.” You turned in his arms and faced him. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here with you, always.”

He lowered his head a little. “I so desperately want to be a father with you as the mother. However, there are fears and worries.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I understand. I’ll live and we’ll raise our baby together.”

“I just…I don’t want a repeat of my mother…”

You hugged Levi tightly. “I’ll stay with you until we’re very old with lots of grandbabies and great-grandbabies.”

Levi closed his eyes as he imagined it all. He smiled at the wonderful thought. “I can see it now. It’s just perfect.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot and me saying it’ll be all right won’t fix a thing.” You sighed. “But it really will be all right.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

You hissed a little in pain. “Baby is having a little party.”

Levi placed his hands on your bump. “Relax, sweet little baby. Relax for momma.”

You winced again. “I don’t think it’s them causing this.”

Levi went white. “Are you?”

You groaned. “I don’t know, maybe?”

Levi scooped you up like a bride and ran with you to the shore. “We need to get to the hospital right away.”

“Levi, you don’t need to run with me. I can walk.”

“I know, but let me do this.” He gazed at you with pleading eyes. “Please.”

You smiled softly at Levi. “Of course, my grumpy. I’m all yours.”

The birth of your daughter Kuchel went smoothly, but Levi was a wreck. When he saw the blood and the mess that came from giving birth, his PTSD was triggered a little. You felt awful that your husband was in pain emotionally. Levi stayed strong though. He held your hand and breathed with you. He held his little girl in his arms and was speechless. Kuchel was perfect and healthy.

You took everything in your stride. Levi was in awe of you. He truly had a strong and brave wife. Though you went through a lot of pain, Levi was with you every step of the way. He helped you through your breathing and he was there to help you go to the toilet in the days after giving birth when everything ached.

Levi went into full caregiver mode. He made you rest as often as possible. He changed Kuchel, cleaned the house and did the cooking as you got all the rest possible to heal up. Your home was filled with laughter, love and sweet coos of a baby. You fell in love with Levi in a whole different way. There was just something about your husband holding his daughter and singing to her. He often rendered you speechless with how impressive he was at taking care of the baby. Levi Ackerman was a sexy dad.

Levi was deeply and completely enamoured by you. He too had fallen in love with you in a whole new way. The fact that you made a sweet baby, brought her into this world and was now caring for her was beyond incredible to him. You were this sexy goddess in his eyes that could create life. He was madly, deeply and hopelessly in love with you.

You rocked in your chair with Kuchel in your arms as she fed from you. Your hand lightly patted her as she happily fed with eyes closed. You felt the loving gaze of your husband upon you. You glanced up to see him staring at you from the sofa. You could have sworn Levi had hearts in his eyes.

You smiled at your husband. “Something on your mind?”

“You.”

You hummed a laugh. “I’m always on your mind.”

“Yes.”

You pulled Kuchel from you and helped her burp. “You’re a man of few words today.”

He moved over to you and took Kuchel so you could fix your dress. “I’m just…you render me speechless a lot.”

“You’re adorable.”

“I love you.”

You blushed a little. “I love you too.”

He gently rocked Kuchel in his arms. “Our daughter is so beautiful.”

You hummed a laugh. “She is. Do you want to go for a walk with her? It’s a nice day and I know Bo has been itching to get out.”

Levi nodded. “I’d like that.”

You got out of your seat and moved around the kitchen to get snacks for a little picnic. You glanced over at Levi as he walked over to the pram with his daughter. You smiled as Bo followed Levi. Ever since Kuchel was born, Bo had been at her side always. Bo used to sleep in your room, but now he slept with Kuchel and protected her. He was the best big brother to her.

You picked up the basket of food and walked over to your husband. “She ready?”

Levi smiled with pride as his little girl in her pram. “She’s all snug.”

You reached down and tickled her cheek. “Precious baby.”

“She’s so cute.”

You placed the basket in the bottom slot. “She’s adorable. All packed.”

Levi pushed the pram out of the home and smiled down at Kuchel as she looked around her in pure awe. He turned to you and pouted when you didn’t walk next to him. He blushed when you giggled and hurried right over to him. You shifted over and hugged his arm as you walked. Bo walked ahead and led the walk into the town. All attention was on the two of you. Most people couldn’t believe the famed Captain was now a father.

You gasped when you looked ahead at the park and saw the cadets having a little break. “Look, Levi. It’s the cadets you trained.”

Levi groaned. “I’m glad to see them, but I was hoping this would be a nice picnic as a family.”

You kissed Levi’s cheek. “We’ll say hello for a bit and then have our little family gathering.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “Yes. Besides, I’m sure they’d love to see the baby.”

Levi blushed hard as he gazed at his little girl. “She is so beautiful. I do like showing her to people.” He smiled. “We made a wonderful baby.” Levi gazed at you. “You’re so incredible.”

You hugged Levi’s arm. “So are you.”

Levi pushed the pram over to the gang. “Morning all, I have someone for you to meet. Tch, try not to crowd her.”

Mikasa looked down at your baby and gasped in delight as a cute blush spread on her cheeks. “Baby.”

Connie shot to his feet. “Baby!? Captain had a baby!?”

Jean frowned. “How did you not know he was going to have one? I told you at their wedding.”

“Ooooooh, yeah I forgot.”

Armin smiled at your baby. “Beautiful.”

You scooped her up into your arms and showed her off. “This is Kuchel.”

Annie walked over and looked down at your baby from behind Armin. “Cute.”

Levi pulled you back and away from Annie, it was understandable that he still had issues with her. “How has everything been for you lot?”

Armin smiled. “Well. It has been hard work, but we’re getting there.”

You moved over to Jean. “I know you love babies.”

Jean blushed as he looked down at Kuchel. “So pretty.” He offered his finger to her and blushed harder when she held onto him. “This is amazing.”

You hummed a laugh. “She likes you. I bet you’d be a great uncle to her.”

“I will!”

Mikasa shifted over and lightly poked Kuchel’s cheek. “She’s so soft.”

You hummed a laugh. “She’s family to you, right? You’re a distant cousin to Levi.”

Mikasa nodded. “Yeah.” She welled up a little. “Family.”

“I’m sure you’ll care for her too, right?”

“Promise.”

Levi placed his hand on your back. “Darling?”

You smiled a little. “We have a little family date. So, we should arrange a time and date for us all to meet again. I think a nice little party should be good.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

You placed Kuchel back in the pram. “I’ll see you all soon. Let’s go, Levi.” You frowned as Bo was rolling on the grass with everyone fussing him. “Bo? Come on!”

Levi whistled causing Bo to run right over. “Good boy.”

You waved to the group and walked with Levi across the park to a nice shaded spot under a tree. Levi set the blanket up and the nice cosy spot as you gathered Kuchel in your arms. You sat down and lay her on a little bed Levi made her. You snuggled up to your husband once he joined you and relaxed together.

Levi pulled a face. “Do you think I did a bad thing back there? You know, running from them?”

“I think there is nothing wrong with it, grumpy. It’s okay.” You kissed his cheek. “Sometimes you need the company of those you hold dear and love.”

“Thank you for reassuring me.” He looked over at Kuchel giggling at Bo sniffing her. “Do you think Kuchel loves me?”

You gasped. “Of course! She adores you! As soon as she sees you she is so happy! I’ll prove it.” You picked up Kucel and angled her so she could see Levi. Kuchel smiled brightly and reached for Levi. “See? Now, I’ll cover her eyes.”

Levi moved closer. “Yeah?”

You hummed a laugh “She’s calm now, but then…” You lifted your hand. “Daddy!”

Kuchel blinked a few times before squealing and reaching for Levi. “Aboo!”

Levi chuckled. “She really loves me, huh?”

You handed Kuchel over. “She loves you more than anything.”

Levi cuddled his baby. “Oh, well I think she loves you more. I talk to her about you.”

You giggled. “I know, I’ve heard you.” You reached over as Kuchel lit up in delight and flopped her hand at you. “I’m right here, my little flower.”

Levi smiled as tears filled his eyes. “I’m happy, really happy. I am at a loss for words to explain how happy I am.”

You leaned closer and kissed Levi. “I feel the same. We have a long road ahead of us. Just wait for when she can run.” You laughed. “She’ll be running circles around you.”

“That’s a bit exciting. I can’t wait and for more kids, maybe?”

You nodded. “Yes. I would love more.”

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