#instead of him seeing nothing he just sees everything blurry

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

27 / 1.7k / spreading rumors about dating Gaz, part 2

⬇ nsfw; mention of revenge porn

...

Gaz doesn't negotiate. He doesn't back down. When the situation calls for it, he knows when it's time to escalate.

That's why he fucks you on your dining room table instead of a public bathroom. Partly because he's not a slag. The idea of you possibly agreeing to do it--of giving him the same ammunition you gave your ex to humiliate you--leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Even if you started rumors and risked his reputation.

A growl rises in his throat at the thought of your ex having the gall to send him that video of you. Christ. What on Earth did you see in him?

Partly, though, he wants to fuck you in your own house so that when he next sees your prat of an ex-boyfriend, he can properly rub it in that fucker's face that you invited him in on the first date.

Or maybe he'll take a picture of your panties in his teeth. He hasn't decided yet.

You're strung out with pleasure, your bare back against the table. You’re caught between wondering why he wanted to fuck you after all and letting every last reservation about it vanish into nothing. You’ve always wanted this. You never thought it would happen.

"Sergeant," you gasp out. "Is this-- what about your reputation--?"

"Don't start." His fingers trail the lines of your body, his eyes fixed on the parts of you he caught only blurry glimpses of in your ex's video. It didn't do you justice.

He wants to pretend there's nothing to this besides convenience--you did owe him. Hell, you wanted to sleep with him. You always made that crystal clear. Now he's just allowing himself to give in to baser impulses like a dog snatching up a rabbit thrown into its path.

But you're right. This will look bad if someone finds out. He should worried, but it's hard to care about that when the thing competing for his attention is the filthy way your pussy swallows him again and again, seeing how slick you leave the base of his cock.

He should've used a condom. He knows for a fact you knew he didn't and you said nothing. He'd tell you off for it now, too, but he's absolutely certain it would just make you cum. The nerve of you.

His hips stutter for a second before he can banish that thought from his mind. He shouldn't like the idea of you being that obsessed. Acting like you'd do anything he asked. Christ, work would be a nightmare if this got out. Him actually sleeping with you. But then again, he suddenly doesn't much like the idea of you finding a different rebound. You'd just be thinking of him anyway, right? Wouldn’t you?

Whatever. He’ll deal with the fallout later. When he's not enjoying your body.

“Who’s going to know?” he murmurs, eyes falling to your chest. “Let it go.”

“Mkay,” you sigh out. There's nothing more you want than to please him right now.

"You'd do anything I asked, wouldn't you." It's not a question. You both know it's true. And he likes that--he hates admitting it, but he does. His eyes drop to your pussy again, and his hips pick up their pace.

You've spent months flirting with him, teasing him about taking you to bed. Now you're getting everything you want. He's right. Why would you care one goddamn second about the consequences? “Anything.”

He hates how needy you sound when you say that. You're too trusting. He's taking advantage of you. Don't you get that?

His grip on your hips tightens, pushing into you more and more roughly. Your moans rise in pitch and he has to grit his teeth.

“Good." He says lowly. "Then you won't tell a soul about this, will you?"

"But--ah, ngh..." You bite your lip as he stops thrusting and grinds himself into you. You gyrate your hips, needing friction. "But people already think we're together."

“Do they? That’s a bold claim.” You're overestimating how many people believe silly rumors. Besides, it's hardly your concern anymore. He lays his palms flat on the table on either side of you, bracing himself. Your skin is so soft; your neck tempts him, but he restrains himself. "You're keeping your mouth shut from now on, yeah?"

You let out a sound of frustration as he slows even further. You try to push your hips harder against his. "Sergeant, please!"

"You want this, don't you?" His voice is chilled, but the heat in his eyes as he stares down at your bucking hips is hardly discouraging. "You'll want it again. You'll keep wanting it."

"Ugh, yes," you snap, squeezing your thighs fruitlessly around his toned waist.

"As long as you don't tell a soul about this, I’ll see to it that you get what you want," he growls. "Not your team, your friends, your stupid ex. No one."

You open your mouth to question him again, but he pulls away and snaps his hips hard into yours. Whatever you were about to say dissolves into a string of semi-coherent affirmations. Yes, you'll keep it quiet. Yes, you'll pretend none of this ever happened. Yes, you'll never use his name on base again. Anything he wants. Just don't stop.

"Good girl. Good girl..." Easy enough. Now that he knows how to get his way with you, you shouldn't be such a problem anymore. He can’t help but be a little greedy, though. "You're not going to fuck anyone else, either."

"Never!"

He grunts in approval. "And you'll never--and I mean never --try to get back with your ex. Understand? You'll stay away from him."

You writhe and plead, winding your arms around his shoulders. He grabs your wrists and pins them to the table, the muscles in his arms taut.

"Do. You. Understand?" His voice comes down on you like low thunder, all around you.

"Yes!"

"Good. I'll know if you do. Mm…" His breathing grows shallow. Your heat is impossibly tight, and tightening up even more. He squeezes your wrists. "You going to cum?"

"C-Can I?" you breathe out. "Please, can I cum?"

His hips stutter and he has to close his eyes for a moment. God, he's never been tested like this.

"Sergeant, please!"

"Cum," he says, the word short and sharp like gunfire. "Cum on my cock. Right now."

He presses his thumb to your clit and you wail, clenching around him like you haven't cum in weeks. Your body rolls, practically convulses, your head knocking against your dining table as you arch up. He lets out a snarl, not slowing down despite how painfully tight you squeeze him.

Once you come down from the high, his pace never slowing, your swollen core twitches and spasms with overstimulation. You cry out, but you make yourself stay in place. You want to keep making him feel good. You want to make him feel better than he ever has.

"Cum inside me," you pant out. "I-I'm on birth control. You can-- please--"

"You're a liar," he growls through clenched teeth even as he picks up his pace.

"I promise," you plead. Even if you're a liar, and you are, you're not lying about this. God, you want him to do it so bad you can feel yourself clench up again at the thought.

You're teetering on the edge of another orgasm when he pulls out, spilling his load across your chest and stomach instead.

You clench down on nothing, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction even as your orgasm ebbs out of reach. You let your head fall back onto the table, your breathing heavy. You don't see his eyes running over you, deliberating.

"Sergeant?"

"Mm?"

"Do you maybe want my phone number?" Almost seems like a silly question. He has your address now anyway.

"Hm." He pulls away, picking up your discarded purse from the mess of clothes on the floor. He pulls out your phone and opens your texts, types in his number, and sends himself a quick message. Then he finds your conversation with your ex-boyfriend. His eyes narrow. The last texts exchanged were earlier tonight. And you started it. You told him you were out to dinner with someone else. Just to get a rise out of your ex. It obviously worked.

That's okay, he figures, opening the menu and blocking your ex's number. If there's one person he does want to know about this, it's that arsehole. Maybe now he'll stay away from you.

You sit up. "Kyle?"

His eyes meet yours, steady and unwavering. "Yeah?"

"Were you serious?"

"I was."

"Even about coming over again?"

"I mean every word I say.” He hands your phone back to you and begins to get dressed.

You watch him, grasping the edge of the table. "When will you be back?"

"My squad leaves on assignment tomorrow. Don't know how long it'll be." He zips up and grabs his t-shirt. "I'll text you."

"Right, right." You suppress a sigh. "Always got a job to do."

He slings his coat over his shoulder, then pauses. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help but reach his hand out to your cheek. He runs the back of his finger over your jawline. Then he disguises the tender gesture by gripping your chin and pulling it up so you're looking him in the eye.

"Behave," he tells you, voice low. "No sleeping around. No flirting of any kind. Is that clear?"

Your heart pounds. You swallow and nod.

"Good," he says, holding your gaze a moment longer.

As he leaves, closing the door behind him, he curses himself.

This is not a good idea. What's he trying to do, fix you? Stupid, stupid, stupid. This isn't going to end well. You're not good for him. But damn if he doesn't feel more satisfied than he has in years.

He has no choice. If he wants you to behave, he'll have to keep your eyes on him. Whether he’s on base or not.

...

part 1 / [part 2]

more Gaz / masterlist tag

#mine #story #fem reader #soft dom gaz #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #gaz cod #kyle garrick #gaz Garrick #cod #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #gaz smut #gaz x reader smut #cod smut

[plan-3-tmars]

malevolent au where everything is the same except the king in yellow is called the king in red so arthur looks high asf in every single fanart of him

#genuinely thought about this #instead of him seeing nothing he just sees everything blurry #so he thought he was hallucinating the evil voice in his head #“i have your eyes so you're going to shut the fuck up and listen to me” “parker is it meant to work this fast..?” #malevolent #arthur lester

[earthtooz]

fluff with a lot of angst, reader is injured and in hospital for one scene but it's not graphic, lovesick!bakugou

during the many years you’ve loved bakugou katsuki, you have only seen him cry three times.

the first time, you were alarmed. where you fell asleep on the couch awaiting your boyfriend’s return, you did not expect to wake up to the sound of sniffles and the sight of drying tears.

“katsuki? what’s the matter?” you asked cautiously, immediately sitting up to wipe his tears away.

your touch, like a healing balm to the blond, lets you treat him like glass when both of you know he is nothing akin to fragile.

“‘s nothin’,” he gruffly huffs, voice cracking a little.

“if you say so,” you murmur skeptically, knowing better than to prod when it’s bakugou involved.

“were ya waitin’ for me?”

you nod. “i thought we could eat together but- what time is it?”

“almost nine.”

“oh. i thought we could eat dinner together but your patrol must have ended a lot later.”

his heart aches pitifully, worsening when he watches you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “‘m sorry, i didn’t mean to come home so late.”

“it’s okay, i get it.”

“we can still eat together, if that’s okay,” he grumbles, looking away bashfully and missing the way your face brightens.

“that sounds lovely, i’ll go heat up dinner-“

“-no, i’ll do it. it’s my fault for coming home later, i’ll call you when it's done.”

bakugou is out of your sight before you can argue any further. as you watch your boyfriend disappear, you’re left pondering on the couch as to why he was acting so uncharacteristically. did he have a bad day? did something happen at work? was he unable to save someone? that’s can't be the reason, he always-

“dinner’s done!” your boyfriend calls from the kitchen, disrupting your thoughts.

when you asked, it didn't sound like he had a terrible day, in fact it sounds like he had a successful patrol, but you cannot fathom any other reason for his melancholy, but if he’s forgotten about it, then you will too.

but... bakugou doesn’t forget. he still remembers when midoriya first alluded to the inheritance of his quirk from all might, he remembers the night vision goggles kirishima broke when trying to save him that one time, he remembers your favourite things and what makes you happy; he remembers everything.

and he’ll never forget that the tears he shed tonight were over the fact that bakugou will never get to show you how much he loves you.

bakugou katsuki, for the first time, realised just how painfully human he is.

he has a heart that beats for you, limbs that longingly ache to be near you whenever he’s not, a mind devoted to you and a cursed mouth so incapable of expressing it all.

if he could, he would wrestle the night sky to give its stars to you instead because you love stars. you love the stupid things in life that bakugou can't give. he can’t give you everything you could ever want and with that realisation, bakugou discovered just how beatable he was.

you may never know the multitude of bakugou’s love for you, and that fact alone brings him to tears as he gazed upon your sleeping figure on the couch, resting peacefully until his arrival.

the second time, you wake up confused.

the lights in the room are dim, there's a machine beeping intermittently and you think it's a heartbeat monitor but you don't really think too hard about it because your body hurts.

you have to blink a few times to get the blurriness out of your eyes, but you eventually comprehend the sterile walls of a hospital room. then the memories come back one by one, a patrol gone awry, evacuating citizens and... ah, being slammed into a wall back-first by the villain. explains the pain.

then you register the looming figure beside your bed, a pair of widened vermillion eyes gazing into your own with untameable blond hair to match, you can't help the smile from spreading on your face when you see your lover.

"hey," you cough weakly, throat dry and scratchy from lack of use.

next thing you know, bakugou's bulky figure is draped over yours, forehead resting on your chest as his arms gently snake around your torso, bringing you into his chest and pressing himself firmly against you.

you feel him; his relief, his sorrow, his devotion, his painful sobs as he shakes against you and it kills you that the only thing you have the strength to do is run a hand through his hair. you want to kiss him, to tell him that it's okay and that there's nothing to cry about, that you're here and nothing will change that, but you're so very sore and barely in tact.

"don't do this shit again," he threatens weakly and you feel his tears seep through your hospital gown. "you had me so fuckin' worried, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, i can't believe you'd do this to me, do you know how much it sucked to be without you?"

"sorry, katsuki," you whisper and he looks up at you, glossy eyes and quivering lip.

"promise me you'll never do this again."

cupping his cheeks with your hands, there's a rush of deja vu as your thumbs catch his tears. "i don't know how realistic that promise is given that this is my job-"

"-your job is to save lives, not go crashin' into buildings, idiot."

you laugh gently, a stabbing pain making itself known in your gut when you do. your wince doesn't go unnoticed by bakugou, who knows you better than the back of his hand and his heart lurches at the slightest evidence that you're in pain. "still, i won't make promises i can't keep, you know how our jobs are, katsuki."

he frowns, furrowing his brows. "then i'll promise to always be there for you. don't go where i can't."

"that's not realistic."

"watch me."

"okay then, deal."

there are questions you still want answers to, but for now, you'll let the blond continue crying with his ear pressed against your chest.

(you won't ever know about the few days bakugou has spent in your hospital ward, absolutely miserable as he looks upon your gaze with anticipation. he hates how helpless he is, that he can't do anything to rid of this horrible feeling in his chest but wait for you to wake up. he hates that he can't any semblance of peace, he hates the man that love has made him, but most importantly, he hates being without you.

you won't ever know the struggle it was to get bakugou out of your room for even just an hour. midoriya and kirishima had to wrestle him in hopes of getting some proper food together, and yaomomo and todoroki had to literally block the door with various items to prevent his entrance.

you won't ever know how alienated bakugou felt, unable to face your shared home without you in it. without your music playing, without your shoes messily thrown at the genkan, without your comforting presence to return to when all is said and done, there isn't much of a home for bakugou.

you won't ever know how desperately bakugou clung to your hand, fiddling with it whenever he needed a safe haven.

you won't ever know the amount of tears the blond had shed by your side, hunched over your bed, with nothing and no one to comfort him but the sound of the heartbeat monitor.)

the third time, you cry too.

it's your wedding day.

when the news first came out, japan practically roared with excitement and anticipation for the special day that their two favourite heroes would wed. the enthusiasm has not dimmed down even months later, and now, as you're one door away from your lover, you feel it buzzing in your bones.

it all goes by in a blur. one second you're about to trip over yourself in nervousness and the next, you're walking down the aisle with a stunned bakugou failing to keep his composure at the altar. despite the amount of close friends and family around you, all you can see is the love of your life who looks at you with unmatched adoration and affection in those ruby irises of his.

up close, however, all you can see are the tears forming in his eyes, and his first sniffle takes everyone in the room by surprise. no doubt, this is their first and last time seeing their beloved hero cry.

more tears are shed and then, it's just waterworks from practically everyone in the room as bakugou breaks down even more.

thank goodness for a private wedding because you know he is never going to live it down if the press got their hands on this image.

a close friend of yours hands you a handkerchief and you wipe away bakugou's tears with a teasing smile, unable to keep your wobbly laughter at bay as your lover- japan's symbol of victory and heroism, turns to nothing but putty in your hands. he lets you treat him so delicately because you've seen him at his lowest, most shaken, and most unlovable, yet still decided to stay.

"sorry," he apologises as you dab at his tears, words reserved for you and you alone. "you're just so... divine. i can't believe i'm marryin' you."

you feel your first tear roll down your cheek and bakugou catches it before it can go too far, wiping it away.

"such an embarrassin' way to start our wedding," he grumbles.

"embarrassing for the both of us, but memorable no doubt," you try to reason.

"everything is memorable as long as i'm with you."

"such a sap," you whack his shoulder lightly. "have you been saving that line for today specifically?"

"you should wait til the vows. bet mine are better than yours."

"i didn't know you could be a poet."

"only for you."

"well then, i can't wait to find out what else you are, katsuki."

"i'll always be yours."

you laugh, "i'm glad to hear that 'cause i love you."

"i love you even more, i'm crying just to prove it."

"your tears are dangerous."

"yeah well, you're marryin' these tears so."

"like i said, i can't wait."

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

#don't talk to me abt this. this was so bad #lmk if there are warnings i missed #i'm pretty sure this is gn!reader i mean i'm gender neutral so hey if the shoe fits #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader

[screampied]

saying “goodnight,” to gojo is one of the worst things you could ever tell him.

some may ask why . . it’s a simple word, a sweet farewell of good dreams if you will. but in this case, perhaps not. just a simple word, a simple word that always knew how to bring the strongest to complete tears.

“goodnight, ‘toru.” you’d murmur, swiftly running your hands through his white tangled strands. he was struggling to keep his eyes open. the calmness of your voice soothed him. cerulean irises stared right back into you before he lets off a soft sigh. his face was so relaxed, he stares into your eyes with his own becoming a bit droopy.

“goodnight,” he’d utter before his eyes briefly closes. “i love you.”

is what you thought he’d say in a moment like this. but even sometimes, reality can be faux. life’s pretty funny, isn’t it.

gojo didn’t like the word ‘goodbye’ simply because it brought back too many hard memories.

he wasn’t one to really explain why, he was more resvered sometimes than anything. he was often too embarrassed to get things off his chest. especially things like this, you did always wonder why though. how sometimes you’d kiss him on the cheek, reaching for the light before uttering off those fatal words of, “goodnight, satoru.”

despite everything though, he always gives you a soft kiss on the lips, murmuring, “sleep well, angel,” instead of goodnight. he’d hold you in his arms, stroking you gently until you fell fast asleep into his arms, where you always belonged.

why was goodnight such an avoidance to gojo’s vocabulary. it was simple, really. a bad experience, a very bad experience actually.

“i don’t like seeing you cry like that,” he’d grumble in a merely defeated voice. he sounded so different, so tired, so … weak. gojo’s voice, it was once so full of life and oh so effervescent. and now, it sounded like he was clinging onto his last and final conclusive breaths—in which he was. “hey, hey. look at me.”

you’d sniffle, glancing at gojo. your eyes were merely blind with your own pathetic tears, everything you saw through your own lens of eyesight was straight blurry. that dumb dorky smile remained plastered on his face despite the circumstances.

the circumstances, gojo satoru had been finally defeated. the strongest, considered as once the strongest, was now lying in your arms, squeezing your wrist as if it’d be the last time he’d touch you. and it would be.

“don’t cry for me. you’re gonna make me cry, silly,” he whispers in a jesting tone, brushing a thumb against the outer part of your hand. you always loved his touch, there was nothing like it. gojo actually for once seemed scared, he was always so good at concealing his emotions—but with you, that was an entire different story.

you could hear the tremble in his voice, his time was rapidly running out, and he just wanted to reassure you, even though perhaps you should have been reassuring him.

“s-satoru,” you’d reply in a shaky voice, you felt an abrupt sharp sting prod through your heart.

you didn’t expect to come to contact with the feeling of heartbreak so soon, but it hit you like a truck. you hated feeling powerless, you couldn’t do anything but just sit here and . . hold his hand.

one … last … time.

“you’ll be okay,” he murmurs, and he lifts up your hand, struggling at first. you’re kneeled down beside him as he lies on the floor. a pool of his own defeat starting to fill from underneath him before he kisses the palm of your hand. “i… i want you to promise me something though. can you do that, angel?”

“y-yes,” you immediately reply, your grip on his hand only growing tighter. suddenly, the air felt so thick and warm—everything felt so out of place. your ears, both of them rang and rang. there was a sting in your heart and it refused to go away. you were experiencing heartbreak at its finest, in slow slow waves.

gojo inhales, and you watch as his pretty lashes flutter at least twice before he says in the most broken, defeated voice you’ve ever heard.

“promise me,” he starts, and you watched as a tear ran down the corner of his eye. even he knew what his fate was coming to, everything was catching up to him and you were sharing the exact dreading emotion. gojo’s eyes flicker up towards you before he sniffles. “promise me, promise me that you’ll be here when i wake up?”

silence—pure silence was your reply, you didn’t know what to say.

but that pure silence only lasted for about three seconds before you nodded, feeling your own tears start to trickle out the crevices of your eyes. “i promise, i’ll be here, i’m always here, ‘toru,” and with a sob nearly escaping your lips, you whimper out a, “i love you.”

“i love you,” he replies with a cheeky grin, and by now he’s really clinging onto his final breaths.

all gojo could focus on was your face, the tears that swelled up through your eyes. he hated seeing you cry, he truly loathed it. with your fingers interlocked with his, gojo says in a soft broken tone, “goodnight, baby.”

“… goodnight, ‘toru.”

but instead of waking up next to gojo like promised, you woke up alone with his side of the bed empty. then reality hit you, he was already gone.

#★vegasbaby. #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #gojo angst #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk fic

[feyascorner]

Ok but what if tav is the hero of baldurs gate right, the god killer, slayer of the chosen three, savior of the emerald grove etc etc and after all that is told they had this incurable illness that the parasite had only slowed down. Now, with it gone, it’s progressing again and Tav can’t help but feel so stupid, weak even, that such a mighty hero could be struck by the weaknesses of their own body

Maybe pushes everyone away when they find out, too afraid to tell them that after everything they’ve been through after surviving all of that that they were going to die anyways

AND THEN ASTARIONS REACTION!!! Because surely he would not take that news sitting down (if he found out at all)

a/n. anon how did you know this type of prompt is exactly my cup of tea <33

It's not fair.

You did everything right. You saved the grove, the Tieflings, the Druids, the gnomes, the city, and even those who did not deserve saving, you always came to their aid. You've slayed gods, mind flayers, githyanki, even a bloody elder brain. And now, finally, after so long, with the brain having been defeated, and nothing but pure bliss occupying your headspace, you think you finally have time to relax.

Instead, you're reeled over the bathroom sink, eyes blurry from how much your body seems hellbent on making you miserable.

Ah, you remember. No matter what you've done for others, no matter what you've sacrificed, you're reduced to nothing but a sick patient. One that has no hope for a cure.

The months spent with little to do with your illness has left it to come back tenfold, and now all you can do is grovel on the bathroom floor, head in your hands as you understand that this is all you were meant to amount to. In the end, you were always destined to rot away by yourself and succumb to this gods forsaken disease. You are no hero. This is what you truly are---the pitiful remains of someone who longed for more.

The weeks following the defeat of the elder brain are filled with mournful streets for those who lost their lives and the joyous laughter of those who live on for them. Celebration--though it's difficult with half the taverns having collapsed in the battle--is not out of the ordinary. Strangers and friends alike come together every night, singing praises to whichever gods they worship. Your companions are no exception.

But each and every time, you deny their offers. You've become quite skilled at making up excuses about feeling tired, about having errands to run, or having loose ends to tie up. In reality, you're a coward. Despite the trust they put in you, you cannot provide it back--not in matters like this. Not when you've all been through so much, just for your own journey to amount to nothing.

It's not like you haven't known about this disease. You knew your death was imminent. But now, after experiencing just a fraction of what life has to offer, you no longer want to let go.

It's just not fair.

For what seems to be the millionth time this week, you hear someone knock at your door. Whichever one of your companions it is, you don't bother taking a step from your bed, face still planted into your sheets. You don't have the energy to move, and the useless healing herbs scattered across the room don't exactly hide your secret. So instead of standing, you bury your face deeper into your bed.

"You can't stay in there forever."

You flinch as you realize it's a voice you've dreaded hearing. One that invokes so much love yet fear as you remember that if you see him right now, it might be your last. And you don't want that. Not at all.

"I don't know what we've done to make you push us away like this," he says through the door, and your fist tightens in front of your chest. "But this is getting ridiculous, darling. You have to come out eventually."

You remain silent.

"Gods, just--" he stops, and you can hear the hesitance in his voice. You swear it almost cracks a little. "--Have I done something wrong?"

At this, you're suddenly on your feet, rushing to push yourself against the door, but unwilling to open in. "No, Astarion, you haven't done anything wrong. Don't you dare think that way."

You can hear him shift. "Then why do you avoid me? The others, I can understand, but me?...I mean, I thought we were more than that..."

"We are, it's just..."

"Just what?"

The final thread of your resolve snaps, and you reach toward your lock. Your hand falters for a moment, but you eventually open the door slowly. And if the way his face falls tells you anything, you must look absolutely dreadful.

"Oh, my sweet, what's happened to you?" he whispers, his eyes widening even more when he sees the mess of your home behind you. The clothes all over the floor, the blinds shut despite there being no sunlight to shield from, the healing potions and herbs messily tossed around...you'd feel ashamed if you weren't so tired already.

"...Are you sick?" he steps inside, taking his time to take in the state of what you call home. When you don't answer, he whips around to you, alarmed. "You're sick. Is it a cold? Flu?"

You shake your head, sick of having to lie to the one person you don't want to deceive. "It's a long story."

"I'm undead, darling. I have all the time in the world."

"It's not a very nice story."

"If I wanted a nice story, I'd be listening to a bard someplace else," he says, and you feel your eyes bubble with tears as he steps closer. "What's happened?"

The words spill out like vomit, and you're soon telling him what's been weighing on you for so long. You find yourself sliding down to the ground, and he goes with you, letting you grasp desperately at the sleeves of his shirt while you tell him everything. You can barely breathe with how fast your talking but you're afraid you won't say everything if you get any slower. The entire time, he just stares at you, his arms circled around you, and only when you're done does his gaze finally flicker.

"...Surely, there must be a cure." He's suddenly glancing around the entire room, at pieces of herbs. "Surely, at least one of these would--"

"None of them work, Astarion."

"Then we can find the finest healers in the city--we can even go back to that damn druid, and ask him."

"I've tried."

"Well, you haven't tried hard enough, obviously, if you haven't found a bloody cure!"

You give him one hard look--one with dark bags under your eyes and a weariness that stretches on for weeks--and his temper seems to cool. His shoulders slump, but he reaches for your hand, rubbing his thumb against your skin. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just felt so weak," you whisper. "I didn't want you to think that too."

Immediately, his eyes harden, and he takes both sides of your face in his hands. "No. I don't think you're weak, and that's not going to change. You've proven yourself more than I can count, and I know you enough to know that you can't let it end like this, love. You can't leave like this."

"Astarion..."

He shakes his head. "I won't let this take you from me. There have been too many opportunities for us to lose each other, and we've overcome them all. We'll just do it again. We'll go to the most skilled healers in Faerun. We'll go to all of them if we have to, and we'll start tomorrow."

You can feel yourself tear up again, and he kisses your tears away while you sob in his arms.

"I'll save you," he mumbles against your temple. "Even if it's the last thing I do."

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3

[cryptidghostgirl]

Caged Bird (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Description: Y/n wakes up, her wings gone and her mind fuzzy. What will ensue? PART TWO TO MY ONE SHOT UNDERSTAND.

Link to Part One: Understand (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

Warnings: Uh, brief mentions of bandages and pain and stuff. Toxic relationships. Kidnapping?? What you'd expect to come after part one.

Word Count: 1,500

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N you guys have been like, breaking my door down for this one.

The world spun circles around Y/n as she opened her eyes. Memories as blurry as her vision, she struggled to bring her surroundings into focus. She could tell she was in a bed but not much else. Everything was different shades of red and unfamiliar, with a window to odd dark woods in her sight.

As the room settled into focus, the first thing she realized was that the window was not in fact a window. Instead, the room simply came to a point where the walls fractured and gave way to the outside. The second thing was that she was not alone.

"There you are, darling." came a hauntingly familiar voice from beside her, "I was starting to worry."

Everything came crashing down around her as she heard his voice. In her minds eye, Y/n watched the portal close. She saw her husband soaked in blood -- in her blood -- with that far off, crazed look in his eyes.

Alastor reached out to wipe a tear that threatened to fall from her eye and Y/n violently jerked away on instinct. Pain ricocheted through her body from the movement, stemming from the middle of her back. Emanating from the place where... she couldn't bring herself to think of it.

He let his hand hang there in the air by her face for a moment before bringing it back to his side with a sigh. Y/n turned her head to the side, her cheek pressing into the cool silk of the pillow case. She watched Alastor carefully.

There hadn't really been time when they first encountered one another in that ally to take in his new appearance. He leered over her, the same constant sharp tooth smile. Y/n couldn't help but notice that there was something there in the red glow of his eyes that was the same. It was the only thing that really remained of the man she had known. Well, that and the monocle.

"How are you feeling?"

"Awful."

With painstaking effort, Y/n pulled herself into a sitting position in the corner of the bed where it met the wall. As the blankets fell from her torso, she realized she'd been wrapped in crisp white bandages.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't give you anything for the pain until you woke up. Here."

Y/n looked up from the bandages to see that Alastor was holding a few pills and a glass of water out to her. She eyed them suspiciously.

"It's just aspirin."

"And you're just my fucking kidnapper. You're just the one person I was supposed to be able to trust completely."

Alastor's eyes fell to his hands. He took a deep breath.

"Y/-"

"You know," Y/n cut him off, her eyes falling to her hands as they fiddled with the blanket pooling in her lap, "I really thought you..."

Alastor looked over at her as her words fell off into silence. There were tears pooling in her eyes again. He didn't regret what he had done. No, it had been necessary. He couldn't lose her again. None of that mattered right now, however. It still hurt, to see her in such pain and know he was the cause.

"Thought what, my dear?" he prompted after a few moments.

"It's dumb." Y/n shook her head, still refusing to meet his eyes, "I was dumb."

"Now now, you know how I feel about you talking down about yourself. It is unbecoming and untrue."

Y/n shook her head again, letting out a small, sad, laugh. The sound was nothing more than a sharp exhale through her nose, it was rueful.

"I mean it, Y/n." Alastor insisted, "Tell me what is on your mind?"

As he spoke, he reached a hand out to her. He tried to hold her hand, he wanted to comfort her but Y/n flinched away again and so, he stopped his efforts.

"I thought you wouldn't hurt me." she admitted at last, meeting his eyes once again.

An arrow through his heart.

"I really thought you... I was so dumb."

"I'm not going to apologize." Alastor sighed after a moment, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest, "I did what I had to do."

"What you had to do?" Y/n really did laugh this time, her eyes searching the room before meeting his once again, "What you had to do, Al?"

"Yes. One day, you will realize that and you will thank me for it."

"Alastor fucking Hartfelt: no."

He stilled. It wasn't the usage of his full name, no. That he was used to hearing from his wife. She had a love of calling him it, it was a privilege in her mind. The real issue was that Y/n, the prim and proper precious girl he adored so much, had cursed. The only other time he'd heard her do that was when she had learned about his mother dying. She was serious.

"No." Y/n said again, shaking her head fervently as her gaze lowered to her lap, "I... in what world would I thank you for cutting the wings off my goddamn back? In what world.... how the fuck do you think things are ever going to be okay between us again?"

His hands slowly slid from his chest, falling loosely to his lap as Y/n met his eyes once again. She looked tired, she looked heartbroken. He hadn't meant for that.

"I..." Alastor searched for the words but they both knew there were none, "I didn't know what else to do."

"I told you I was going to figure something out!"

"And what if you didn't!?" Alastor yelled back, getting to his feet, "What if someone on your end found out and you got killed, for real killed."

He slammed his hands on the bed, leaning over Y/n who trembled slightly, her eyes wide.

"I did what I had to do." Alastor sighed, the anger falling from him as quickly as it had arrived, "Just... please. Please, Y/n. I couldn't lose you again."

Y/n's heart hurt. He was begging her. He had hurt her so much but, had the reasons really been that bad?

She knew he was right. With her plan, she would have most likely ended up dead or worse, with Adam forcing her to kill Alastor, or forcing her to try to at least.

He was begging her. He was begging her and even after what he had done, she loved him. Even after the violence, the pain, discovering his new nature, she loved him and was elated to be in his presence once again. Y/n wanted to scream, she wanted to cry. More than anything, she wanted to close her eyes and open them again to find it had all been a dream, open them to their sweet little house in the garden district -- alive.

"Please." Alastor said again, sinking to his knees as if in prayer, "Please, Y/n. I don't expect you to forgive me right away just try to understand where I'm coming from."

She watched him, his head in his hands, his eyes on the mattress. Y/n was angry. Because he was right, because she still wanted to scream, because god she just wanted him to hold her. Even knowing that he was the source of the pain, all she wanted was for him to hold her and make it all better. Because that was what Alastor did, what he had always done. He made things okay.

Life was easier with Alastor, life was lovely. Memories overtook Y/n, over took her reason and her anger and her fear. Tentatively, she reached a hand out and placed it on Alastor's head. He looked up at her, ears swiveling. Still smiling.

"Can you do anything else? Can you only smile?"

He hesitated a moment before shaking his head no and Y/n sighed.

"I..." Y/n trailed off, sighing once again.

She felt caught, trapped. Even if she wanted to go back to the hell of life as an exorcist, she couldn't. Options were limited: Alastor or alone. Y/n didn't think she wanted to be alone. Not now, not here, not like this.

"Can I have a hug?"

The question was small, her voice trembled. Alastor's eyes lit up. With a practiced grace, a practiced giving of space and time, he stood and sat down on the bed beside her. She fell into his chest, clutching his jacket as he wrapped his arms around her, careful to avoid the fresh wounds he had inflicted.

Y/n began to sob. Big heavy breaths, big wet tears soaking through his suit into his skin.

"It will all be okay." Alastor cooed, rubbing her shoulder gently, "It will all be okay."

And the worst part was, she beleived him. His words made her feel better. And the worst part was, Y/n began to smile.

----

A/N I looked up his last name and this is what the wiki said. Please don't be mad at me.

Tags:

@trashbin-nie @themoonitselff @lululucii @asianfrustration13 @sphynxtheweeb @nenerobobot @bumblebeebluebell @ast-jime @otherthoughtsofbu @sanemiswifeyxo1 @messyserver @rainyvandragon @xxwerefangxx @campgarbage @alexdelray1 @ellie-x0xo

#x reader #fic writer #x reader fics #x reader one shot #x reader writer #alastor #fanfic #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin hotel fanfiction #angst #x reader angst #yandere x reader #yandere #dark!fic #dark!Alastor #dark #x reader fanfiction #x reader fanfic #x you #yandere x you

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

A lot can happen in six months (and yet nothing can change) (M)

Genre: Hallmark Christmas Romcom!core, Ex!Mingyu, angst, bad decisions are made and talked about, porn somewhere in here because of course

Warnings: Exes are exes, breakups are breakups and this writer doesn’t know what that’s all like, creampie, unprotected sex, switch?gyu, switch?yn, dub con

Summary: 

Six months ago you and Mingyu broke up and you weren’t sure exactly how to move on. Now, he was calling you all over again, as you to go on a non-refundable romantic Christmas weekend in New York City, and you know that you should say no... But how on Earth, does one say no to Kim Mingyu? 

-

All things in life happen for a reason. 

That’s what you told yourself like a mantra whenever you weren’t sure where your life was headed. When you were graduating high school and only got into one of your colleges, when your grandpa died and you had to fly out to your hometown for his funeral, even when you lost your job and spent five months unemployed unable to land a job despite your many qualifications. 

But the time that echoed the loudest through your brain, the time you depended on it the most was the time that you would live to hate for the rest of your life. 

“Walk out that door and we are through.” 

When you had made it to Chwe Hansol’s apartment door, you were sobbing and he had a girl hooked to his arm. 

In minutes, that girl was gone and you two were alone in his apartment, your head in his lap as you sobbed. 

“I don’t get it,” you stuttered through tears. “We were fine. And then he-“ 

You hiccuped but before you could say more the door was opening to the apartment. You looked over your shoulder to see a blurry image of short brown hair and tall slender legs. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Hansol said softly. “I invited Dasom over.” 

You turned back to Hansol shoving your face into his chest as the tears ran freely down your face. Of course, you didn’t mind Dasom being over. Out of everyone in your life Hansol and Dasom were your two favorites. They had been there for you since before Mingyu and you had ever even met. They knew all of the ups and downs of your relationship with him and everything. 

Never had you imagined that they would end up seeing the end of it. 

“What happened?” Dasom asked, a hand finding its way to your back. “Hansol just said that it was an emergency and I needed to come over.” 

You pulled out of Hansol’s chest, giving her what had to be an incredibly pathetic look. 

“We broke up-” 

This time instead of falling into Hansol, you fell against Dasom, burying your face into her neck. 

“This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Hansol said bluntly. You looked over at him, shooting him a glare. 

“Hey-“ 

“The world doesn’t end because you stop dating Kim Mingyu.” 

“I thought I was going to be with Kim Mingyu for the rest of my life,” you snapped back. “He was supposed to be my last relationship. My ride or die. The man I married.” 

“How did this even happen?” Dasom asked, still completely lost. You looked at her. 

“He thought I cheated on him.” 

“Which is stupid,” Hansol inserted. 

“Well, it wasn’t baseless!” You protested. You dug your phone out of your pocket, clumsily unlocking it and shoving the phone in Dasom’s face. 

“This is why he thought I cheated and honestly? I’m starting to think I did cheat on him.” 

Dasom took your phone, confusion settling itself on her face as she scrolled through the conversation. 

“You cheated on Mingyu?” She asked in disbelief. 

“Of course, I didn’t!” You protested. 

“Then who is Byungho?” She asked. 

“Who is Byungho?” You agreed loudly. “Do you know a Byungho? I don’t. Hansol doesn’t. No one does! But who would believe that with that conversation on my phone.” 

Hansol scoffed and took the phone from Dasom’s hands, looking at the conversation himself. 

“Obviously Mingyu should know you better than this. This person doesn’t even text like you.” 

“I think he was too busy having his heart broken to analyze the way that I was texting,” you said bluntly. “So instead, he just broke mine too.” 

You broke down into sobs earning yourself a sigh of sympathy from Dasom. 

“What are you going to do? You and Mingyu were perfect together,” Dasom said. “You’ve got to get him back.” 

“There’s no getting him back, he blocked me on everything,” you replied between your tears. “And I tried to go back to our apartment, but Soonyoung threatened to take legal action if I showed up again.” 

“What a-” 

“He’s just being a good friend,” you interrupted shooting yet another glare at Hansol. “I can’t even be mad I’m just… Completely and utterly helpless and I’m never going to be in love ever again.” 

“Hey-“ 

When you didn’t look up Dasom’s hands fell on your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. 

“You’re going to fall in love again. Everything is going to be okay.” 

You nodded at her, but your heart didn’t really match the optimism. 

“Besides, who knows? Maybe this will all blow over and Mingyu will take you back.” 

But weeks of staring at your phone waiting for that phone call turned into months, and before you knew it all your stuff was in Hansol’s apartment and he was the first person that you saw every day. 

Now, you were the you after Kim Mingyu. 

“Y/n!” Jeonghan cheered from across the bar, holding up two shots. “Come here! Let’s toast!” 

You waved off the person you were talking to and squeezed past people in the bar until you were pushed right up to Jeonghan. You smiled at him as he pushed one of the shot glasses into your hand. 

“Let’s drink,” he said excitedly. “To being newly single.” 

“I’ve been single, Jeonghan,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “And Jihyo was barely a relationship.” 

Jeonghan’s mouth dropped open and he feigned hurt by placing his hands to his chest. 

“Barely a relationship?” He exclaimed. “After the amount of sex we had I wouldn’t say-” 

Loud protests coming from you stopped Jeonghan from talking with a laugh. 

“Look, you’re just jealous because no one has even tested the waters with you since you and Mingyu broke up.” 

“That’s not true,” you insisted. Jeonghan rolled his eyes.  

“Okay then, where’s the comprehensive list?” 

You comically dropped open your mouth. 

“Mr. Yoon, I don’t kiss and tell.” 

Before Jeonghan could attempt to humiliate you further, a hand wrapped around your wrist, and Dasom fixed you with a large smile. 

“Did you come here to talk to Jeonghan or did you come here to have fun?” She asked. You laughed, letting her drag you into the middle of the bar. She put her back to a guy you knew she didn’t know and began to grind on him. You covered your mouth as you laughed as she turned and drew the guy into a kiss. 

When she looked back at you she gestured around her. 

“Come on. Pick a guy. Don’t you want to have fun tonight?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“I’m just dancing here on my own,” you said, moving your hands to your sides and doing a truly awful dance move from side to side. As you moved someone came up behind you, their hand on the small of your back. 

“I know a guy you could grind on.” 

You turned back to Jeonghan. 

“Why don’t you find a different person to grind with?” You said. “You might not strike out if you start somewhere else.” 

He laughed. 

“Okay no grinding, but I have all night to find someone to go home with.” 

His hand move to yours and he swung your hand back and forth. 

“Tonight I’ll just bother you until we find someone for you to hook up with.” 

You rolled your eyes, falling into step with Jeonghan as you two danced around the room. 

“I’m not going to hook up with someone tonight,” you protested. 

“Come on!” Jeonghan protested. “You’ve got to! You’re in a dry spell. You’re never going to move on from Mingyu if you don’t take this step.” 

“I’ve moved on from Mingyu,” you replied. “It’s been months-” 

“Six to be exact,” Jeonghan replied. “Six months since anyone has entered your sacred temple-” 

“Ew-” 

“It’s not healthy to go that long without sex,” Jeonghan said seriously. You shook your head. 

“I’ll get back into the game when I’m ready to get back into the game,” you said. “You should focus on your own chances tonight. You’re going to strike out a lot with that shirt on.” 

Jeonghan laughed but he seemed to accept your answer this time. He spun you around, his eyes suddenly on the crowd around him. 

“Alright, so let’s see,” he said softly. “Who do you think is the girl who has drank the least but is still hot and smart enough to come home with me tonight?” 

“I actually think everyone here is too smart to go home with you tonight,” you replied. Before Jeonghan could express his offense you pointed at a girl not too far. 

“What about her? She’s hot, and she’s not holding a drink,” you suggested. He hummed, clicking his tongue.  

“She’s watching her friends like a hawk though. No way she would leave the bar with me.” 

“Unless we get her to send her friend's home one by one,” you replied. “All it takes is for an observation from a friend and a certain Yoon Jeonghan offering to call them a cab like an absolute angel.” 

A smile spread over Jeonghan’s lips as he slowly whistled and then pressed his lips to your cheek in a brief kiss, that left you laughing and batting him away. 

“You clever thing you.” 

To be completely honest you liked helping Jeonghan with his hook ups and simple plans like getting a couple of friends home safe while Jeonghan made his move were fun. You weren’t surprised when Jeonghan was leaving the bar with a girl on his arm, and a wink over his shoulder in your direction. 

Luckily for you, during the whole debacle you had found a fun stranger to pass the time with. 

You weren’t paying any attention to the time, or even Dasom as you danced with the person, talking about your day and your plans for the week. 

You felt your phone vibrating in your pocket and you glanced down, slipping it out of your pocket. It took one glance at the phone number on your screen to have you pushing your beer on the counter. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

You felt your heart rate increasing as you pushed through the crowd, feeling the phone vibrating in your hand. Each time it vibrated you worried that you were taking too long, and yet you still had a while before you would get out of the bar. 

Before you could think it over twice, you answered the call pressing the phone to your ear. 

“Hi, just one second-” 

You pushed past a few more people and out the door of the bar, jogging until you were in the quiet alley next to the bar. 

“Hi, sorry, it’s so loud in there,” you said, laughing slightly as you changed the ear that your phone was pressed to. 

“Hello.” 

You hadn’t thought you were going to hear that soft voice ever again. You thought maybe right now on the phone he sounded raspier. But maybe that was just in your head. 

“Sorry, this is-” 

“I know it’s you Mingyu,” you breathed, pressing your back against the brick wall behind you. 

“You still have my contact?” 

“No. I’d just recognize your phone number in my sleep.” 

There was a moment of silence where Mingyu took the chance to breath. 

“This is.... This is stupid,” he finally said. “I shouldn’t ask you this.” 

You waited for him to go on, but he was hesitant. 

“Maybe not,” you agreed. “But I can tell you if it really is or not. Just ask.” 

You really didn’t care what he had to say. You just wanted to continue to hear his voice. 

“You know how we had planned to go to New York together for Christmas?” 

You were quiet for too long. You were enjoying listening to him so much that you forgot how to speak. 

“Yeah. We booked the flight and hotel and everything,” you replied. 

“Well, it’s non-refundable.” 

“What?” 

“The flight, the hotel? It’s all non-refundable.” 

“Oh,” you replied softly. “Well, that’s okay. You should still go.”  “No, no, I want you to go,” Mingyu replied softly. “It was your dream to go there over Christmas.” 

“Mingyu you paid for it. I can’t just take your-” 

“I’m not going on that trip,” Mingyu interrupted, his voice rough. You scoffed. 

“I’m not going either.” 

There was silence between the two of you, long enough that a few minutes passed and neither of you hung up. You wondered if he was holding on for the same reasons as you were. Because you missed him more than you had realized. 

“Y/n, I shouldn’t have called you.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed softly. 

“And I’m about to suggest you something stupid that I really shouldn’t suggest.” 

“I can decide that.” 

He sighed. 

“If you won’t go to New York because I paid for the tickets, and I won’t go because you’re the one who wanted to why don’t we.... Meet in the middle.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

“Meet in the...?” 

“Let’s go to New York together.” 

“What?” You blurted. You cleared your throat, trying to get control of how loud you had been. “Mingyu that’s crazy.” 

“It’s crazy for us to just let the money go to waste!” 

“Do you even want to go on the trip with me? You’re the one who-” 

“I know what I said,” Mingyu interrupted. “I’m not... I’m not saying I regret it I just... You deserve that. At least. After this year, you deserve New York City at Christmas.” 

Silence fell between you two again. 

“I shouldn’t have-” 

“Let’s do it.” 

“... Really?” 

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It’s just one weekend right? What harm is one weekend?” 

“You’re stupid,” Hansol insisted, watching you from your bed as you packed another shirt into your suitcase. You shot him annoyed look, which just made him shoot you another wide eyed one. “What? You are! You’re going on a weekend trip with your ex?” 

“It’s just five days.” 

“That’s five more days than you ever thought you would see him again,” Hansol hissed. “You’re going to go on that trip and you’re going to-” 

“What?” You interrupted Hansol. “Fall in love with him again? It’s five days. I’m not going to fall in love with him again over five days.” 

Hansol was quiet for a little bit and while it should have made you relieved you couldn’t help but think that the silence was worse than him talking. You tried really hard to ignore it for a few minutes but the silence was deafening. 

“What?” You sighed. Hansol looked away from you. 

“I didn’t say anything,” he said. 

“You think I’m going to fall back in love with Mingyu on this trip?” You pressed. 

Hansol sighed. 

“I don’t think that you are ever fell out of love with him.” 

You stopped in the middle of packing your bags, looking away from Hansol. You hated the way his words made a knot grow in your throat. Not because Hansol was wrong and it was making you frustratrated… But because you knew that he was right. 

“A lot of people are still in love with their exes,” you said quietly. “Our break up wasn’t satisfying for me since I never got the chance to explain. Of course I’m still in love with him.” 

“It’s not going to be good for you to go on this trip with him,” Hansol insisted. “Let’s say he falls back in love with you. Because you’re familiar and he misses you even though he thinks you cheated on him. He’s never going to trust you. He’ll never believe you when you promise that guy from the club approached you unsolicited or that Chan from work really did need extra help.” 

“Hansol, you’re being ridiculous,” you insisted. “Mingyu has too much self-respect for himself to go back to me after I cheated on him.” 

“You forget I was friends with him before the break up,” Hansol said. “If Mingyu loved you as much as he seemed to, then he very well would take you back.” 

You weren’t really sure how you were supposed to react to the prospect of getting back together with Mingyu. Your whole body buzzed at the excitement of it, but you couldn’t help but think about what Hansol was saying. 

Would he really take you back just because you were familiar? Was it possible that he missed what you two used to have? Surely, he wouldn’t subject himself to the pain of never being able to trust you just because he had never been able to fully move on from your relationship. 

You shook your head, clearing your mind of your rampant thoughts. 

“It’s just a trip,” you said. “Nothing’s going to happen on a trip.” 

- 

“You know it’s not too late to back out,” Hansol warned as you looked through your bag to try and make sure that you had all of the documents that you were going to need. “I won’t be upset with you if you want me to drive you back home.” 

“I’m going on this trip Hansol,” you said, shooting him a glare. “I don’t care if you don’t think it’s smart. I’m already here and packed. Besides…” I want to see Mingyu again. 

Before Hansol could start to lecture you again about how bad of an idea it was, you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket. You dug it out and shushed Hansol as you answered the phone. 

“Hi,” you said. 

“Hey it’s-“ 

“Mingyu, I know it’s you,” you interrupted softly. “I just got to the airport. Are you here?” 

“Yeah, I can see you.” 

Your eyebrows raised. 

“Oh, where-” 

“Turn to your right and right next to the pillar…” 

You followed Mingyu’s instructions and when you finally found him, standing across the airport in a long dark grey trench coat with a scarf tied tightly around his neck… You forgot how to breath. 

You hadn’t seen Mingyu since the fight. Not even in passing on the street or at a club by chance. You hadn’t seen Mingyu since the fight. 

Your phone lowered ever so slightly from your ear and your mouth gaped a little. You felt your eyes flutter and- 

You felt yourself get nudged sharply in the side. 

“Just a weekend trip?” Hansol hissed at you. You glared at him and shoved your finger in front of your lips again. 

“He can hear and see us.” 

“Good, maybe I can talk some sense into him about-” 

“I’ll be right over,” you interrupted loudly into the phone, quickly hanging up. As soon as the phone call had ended you looked over at Hansol giving him a look that you could only hope would kill. 

“Can you not be good for two seconds?” You asked him. “I’m going on this trip. Would it kill you to be supportive?” 

“You took one look at Mingyu and it was like you were already falling in love with him all over again,” Hansol said. “Did you not see your face? You looked like you were ready to marry him and you haven’t seen him in six months.” 

“Shut up Hansol. You’re making it out to be a much bigger deal then it is,” you snapped. You snatched your suitcase from Hansol’s hands. “If you’re not going to be civil you can just leave me right now.” 

“I’m just trying to look out for you!” Hansol argued back. “And not just you, I’m trying to look out for Mingyu as well.” 

“We don’t need your help Hansol!” You argued back. You felt heat raising to your face, but before you could argue with him more you forced yourself to take a deep breath. “Look. This is the last time I’ll see you before Christmas. I don’t want to argue with you right before Christmas.” 

Hansol scoffed and looked away from you so you sighed. 

“Hansol, you know you’re my best friend ever right?” You pressed softly. Hansol glanced over at you. 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

You stepped closer to him, smiling up at him. 

“I love you.” 

Hansol tried to still look annoyed but a small smile spread itself over his lips. 

“I love you too.” He said. He raised his hand to your hair. “Be good in New York, okay? You know I’m just a phone call away.” 

You nodded, and you went to say something else to him but before he could someone cleared their throat. You glanced over, your face flaming red when you realized that Mingyu was standing right there next to you. You took a step back, your fingers tightening around the handle to your suitcase. 

“Sorry,” you murmured. 

Mingyu shrugged. 

“I’m not upset,” he said. His eyes flitted over to Hansol and they narrowed slightly. “I’d be upset too if my roommate was going on a weekend trip without me.” 

Hansol rolled his eyes. 

“Good to see you too,” he said. He turned his attention back to you. 

“Don’t forget,” he reminded, taping his phone with his index finger. “Just a call away.” 

“See you Hansol,” you said. He nodded and raised his hand in farewell, nodding to Mingyu as he left. You watched him for a while, secretly wishing he would stay with you two just a little longer. 

“So… You’ve moved on from Byungho then?” 

“Byungho?” You repeated, your eyebrows scrunching at the name. Mingyu scoffed and took your suitcase from your hand. 

“You and Hansol just looked really comfortable,” he replied. Your eyebrows furrowed at the statement, but you were too focused on your suitcase to mind. 

“Hey, why are you-” 

“It’s always the ones that they tell you not to worry about,” Mingyu continued with a roll of his eyes. He started walking forward, not really giving you the time to digest the statement. “Come on, our gate is this way.” 

You rushed forward to try and keep up with Mingyu- he was walking fast. You noted that he never used to walk this fast. Not when you two were dating. People always talked about how fast Mingyu walked but you had always been able to keep up with him so you just assumed that you were a fast walker too. 

Now it was evident that he walked slower then for you. 

“It’s uh…” You trailed off, glancing at the people walking past. “It’s really nice to see you.” 

Mingyu was quiet, so you decided to press the topic. 

“I never thought you were going to talk to me again.” 

“I didn’t either,” Mingyu replied, his voice soft. You thought again about what Hansol had said. Remembered that he thought Mingyu would let himself fall back into a relationship that lacked trust and… 

“So, we’ve got quite the flight ahead of us,” you said, clearing your throat and turning away from Mingyu. 

He hummed, as he looked you up and down. 

“Yeah.” 

He sighed. 

“Aren’t you cold? Do you know how cold it is outside? And it’s going to be even colder in New York,” he commented. You glanced down at your clothes, your head falling to the side. 

“I’m wearing a long-sleeve.” 

“But you get cold so easily,” Mingyu replied. You’re going to be freezing in New York.” 

You rolled your eyes away from him. 

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted. Mingyu seemed like he didn’t want to argue it anymore and his attention turned away from you. 

“Our gate isn’t that far from here. Did you eat?” 

As he walked, your eyes stayed trained on your bag that he was rolling through the airport. 

“Hansol and I grabbed coffee on the way here,” you replied. 

“Oh,” he said, sounding- If you remembered him as well as you thought he did- a little disappointed. “I haven’t had anything. I think I’ll grab a scone and an americano once we get to our gate.” 

“Okay,” you replied. “Can I have my bag back?” 

“I’ve got it,” Mingyu replied. 

Your eyes narrowed, but Mingyu didn’t notice because he was walking so damn fast. You didn’t get a chance to catch your breath until you two finally got to the gate and he had sat your bags by one of the seats. 

“I’m going to swing by the Starbucks okay? I’ll be right back.” 

You nodded and as soon as Mingyu had disappeared you went through your bag to try and find the book that you had brought to help pass the time. It was sort of hard to focus on it. After all, you were in an airport with Mingyu and you were about to go on a weekend trip with him. Your ex. 

You had never done anything so stupid. Somehow with your past relationships the breaks had always been clean and there had never been any drama between your friends. No rumors of cheating, no emotional abuse. Just a I think we should break up text and a normal following Tuesday. 

But your relationship with Mingyu had been so intense. It being ripped away from you meant you never got the closure that you so desperately craved. 

“Here.” 

You looked up to see that Mingyu was holding a Starbucks cup in front of your face. Your eyebrows rose. 

“What...” You trailed off as you took the warm cup from you. 

“I wasn’t just not going to get you something. I hope you still like lattes.” 

Mingyu took a seat next to you and pulled a danish from out of a little bag. He began to snack on it, taking a sip of his americano between the drink. As he did, you turned your attention to the latte that he had gotten you. It was hot. You generally enjoyed them iced, but you knew he must have gotten it hot because it was so cold out and he wanted you to stay warm. 

You took a sip of it, glad to see that not only did it have your favorite kind of milk in it but that it was a flavor of latte that you hadn’t had since the breakup. You smiled against your cup, turning your head so that Mingyu wouldn’t see. You had sort of thought that Mingyu would have forgotten these little things about you. 

Mingyu didn’t talk to you much while you waited for the flight to start boarding. You read your book and finished your coffee and he threw away your things before you two finally got called on board. 

Getting onto the plane brought you the very first surprise of the trip. As you two walked through the plane you walked past the normal part of the plane... Then the business part of the plane... Until you got to... 

“You bought us first class?” You hissed. Mingyu glanced over his shoulder at you and shrugged. 

“It was your dream to come to New York City for Christmas. I wanted this trip to be a dream.” 

 “Going to the city of lights is a dream enough you didn’t have to buy us first class tickets.” 

The two of you sat down in seats that were practically twin recliners right next to each other with a large shared movie screen between the two. You glanced around as you sat your stuff down noticing the people next to the two of you had a literal gucci jacket on. 

“Mingyu, how much did this cost?” You asked, keeping your voice hushed so that it wasn’t too obvious that you two didn’t belong here. 

“I had just gotten a promotion... Remember?” Mingyu asked. “I make a lot of money now.” 

“Yeah but...” 

“Don’t worry about it, y/n.” 

“I can’t believe you almost let this much money go to waste,” you said with a shake of your head. “How am I supposed to not worry about it? That’s a lot of money.” 

“Why don’t you pick a movie?” Mingyu suggested, ignoring the fact that you were obsessing so much over how much money he must have spent on these tickets alone. 

“You can’t distract me from...” 

Even as you spoke Mingyu had started to scroll through the movies on the screen, and before you could finish your statement you saw something that you hadn’t thought you would see. 

“No way they have Onward,” you exclaimed excitedly. You instinctively grabbed Mingyu’s arm, and shook it the best you could (Mingyu barely budged because... You know...). “Can we watch Onward? Please?” 

“You haven’t changed a bit have you?” Mingyu asked with a laugh. “I think they also have Frozen on here. You sure you don’t want to watch that?” 

The endorphins raced in your body at the idea of watching that movie too. 

“It’s a long flight,” you said. “We can just watch both right?” 

Mingyu hummed. 

“Yeah, we can watch both.” 

If there was one thing that you hadn’t been expecting to happen when going on this trip was to fall into old habits. But the entirety of the flight didn’t feel awkward at all. Instead, you spent the whole trip reciting your favorite lines, under your breath, only to catch Mingyu smiling at you in between instead of being annoyed the way that you would think he would be. 

Eventually he dozed off to sleep, and it was just you sitting next to him on the flight. 

You couldn’t help the feeling in the bottom of your chest. A feeling that you hadn’t felt in six months. You swallowed hard and looked down at your hands. 

You thought you needed to focus on the Onward and stop focusing on the sleeping man next to you. 

When you and Mingyu made it to the hotel you tried your best not to freak out like you had about the first-class tickets. Why would you have to try your best not to freak out? Because the giant marble atrium of the hotel lobby that you were standing in was making you think that maybe Mingyu spent a little bit more than the budget you two had discussed so long ago. 

“I have a reservation under Kim Mingyu,” Mingyu said to the attendant who was standing there with real diamond earrings in her ears. She smiled at him, and typed a few things on her computer. 

“Ah right, Kim Mingyu. The gentleman who booked our honeymoon suite over Christmas.” 

“Oh-” Mingyu laughed nervously, glancing back at you. “I called to switch the room. Did that not end up happening?” 

The lady’s head cocked to the side and her eyebrows riddled in confusion. 

“We didn’t get a call about that? Do you remember who you talked to?” 

“Angela,” Mingyu replied without missing a beat. “She said that she could switch to a room with two queens...?” 

The lady at the desk sighed. 

“Between you and me? Angela is days from getting fired. She never does what she is supposed to.” The lady clicked away at her computer. “Let me see. You just need a room with two beds?” 

“Yes. You don’t have to charge me less just... Some things have changed.” 

The lady at the desk thankfully didn’t pry. She clicked away at her computer for a while before finally sighing and turning her attention to Mingyu. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Kim, but I have nothing.” 

“Nothing at all? I mean we’ll take-” 

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, taking a step forward. You smiled at the lady and shrugged. “He’s always so considerate but it’s really fine if we share a bed. The honeymoon suite sounds fun.” 

You couldn’t help the way you bit the bottom of your lip. 

“Expensive,” you mumbled and then flashed a smile. “Fun.” 

“Okay! Then here are your keys-” She slid the two of you hotel room keys. “It’s the top floor. Has a balcony, only room on that floor. Would you like someone to take your bags up to the room?” 

Before you could answer Mingyu was nodding. 

“We have a show to catch.” 

You turned to Mingyu your eyes wide as you mouthed: Show to catch? 

Mingyu shrugged. 

“We’re going to see Beetlejuice on Broadway.” 

“What!” Your voice rose a little louder than you wanted it to, so you covered your mouth and leaned closer to Mingyu. 

“We’re going to see Beetlejuice?” You hissed. “How are we going to see Bettlejuice?” 

“It was the musical you wanted to see when we made the plans to come here,” Mingyu replied pointedly. “I bought the tickets back then.” 

“How did you know that I wanted to see Beetlejuice?” You asked. Mingyu reached into his jacket pocket, rummaging through it a little bit before pulling out a piece of paper. 

“Don’t you remember? You wrote an itinerary for the trip,” he replied. You took the piece of paper and surely enough, there it was... The itinerary that you had spent hours drafting up all those months ago. You had completely forgotten about this itinerary. In fact, when you and Mingyu had broken up you had completely scrapped all thoughts of coming to New York City at all. 

“You still have this?” You asked. Mingyu’s eyebrows scrunched together uncertainly, and shrugged. 

“I...” He trailed off, clearly trying to think of something good to say. “We should go now so that we have plenty of time to get in our seats.” 

- 

“I can’t believe we just saw a Broadway musical,” you said excitedly. “And Beetlejuice at that? Remember, that was the only thing I listened to for like a straight month.” 

Mingyu smiled at you as he took his coat off and began to take yours off your shoulders. 

“Dead mom was stuck in my head for like a week straight,” he replied with a chuckle. “How could I forget?” 

You sang the song quietly under your breath for a moment and then your eyes fell on the single bed in the room. You swallowed hard. 

“Uhm, so what are we going to do about...?” 

You didn’t even have to finish. Mingyu finished hanging up your two’s coats and then joined you looking at the bed. 

“I’ll just sleep on the floor. They have extra bedding in the closet.” 

“What?” You blurted. “You shouldn’t be the one to sleep on the floor. You spent so much money on this room-” 

“I keep telling you to forget about the money-” 

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” you finished. 

“Not happening,” Mingyu replied with a shake of his head. “Why are you being so bratty on this trip? It’s just a few nights on the floor. I’ll survive.” 

“Bratty?” You blurted, your mouth dropping in disbelief. “Did you really just call me bratty?” 

“You keep worrying about money when I tell you not to.” 

“Even when we were dating, I didn’t like it when you spoiled me!” You insisted.  

That wasn’t entirely true, and you knew by the narrowing of his eyes that Mingyu could tell. You had liked it when Mingyu spent money on you because you knew that was a part of his love language, and you could pay him back in your own ways. 

But here? Now? How would you pay him back? 

And furthermore, why was he using his love language on you here and now? Six months after your breakup. Six months after he was supposed to take you back. 

You glanced up at him as he began to pull something out of his suitcase. 

Six months too late. 

“Let’s just share the bed,” you suggested. Mingyu looked back at you, frowning slightly. 

“Share...?” 

“We’re already crossing every boundary,” you pointed out. “Might as well cross this one too.” 

You went over to your own bag. 

“Besides, it’s a king size. It’ll be like we’re both in our own bed.” 

Even though you said that laying down in the bed with Mingyu made you nervous. 

“Do you mind if I read something?” Mingyu asked. You gestured for him to go ahead and rolled over so that your back was to him. You were scared to move. Practically hugging the side of the bed as you stared at the beige wall in front of you illuminated in the amber light. 

“Is it too bright?” Mingyu asked. You shook your head against your pillow. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay with sharing the bed?” Mingyu continued. You glanced back at him over your shoulder. 

“Of course, I suggested it.” 

“You’re stiff as a board,” Mingyu pointed out. Your mouth gaped. 

“I’m not-” 

“We were together for-” 

“Okay fine, I’m a little on edge,” you replied. “It’s just that we broke up. I mean we can pretend all we want that it’s not but... It’s weird.” 

Mingyu nodded. 

“Let me just take the floor.” 

“I’ll get over it,” you replied firmly. You turned back around. “If I’m not sleeping on the floor, no one is sleeping on the floor.” 

Mingyu sighed but didn’t argue your point. 

“Tell me if I should turn the light off.” 

You didn’t tell Mingyu to turn the light off, but you didn’t fall asleep either. Time passed until Mingyu’s pages stopped turning, and the light went off, and he laid down in the bad. It wasn’t until long after his breathing evened out that you were finally able to drift asleep. 

When you woke up on your own side of the bed you had never felt more relieved in your life. You were on your side of the bed, not wrapped in Mingyu’s arms with your head on your chest or anything of the sort. 

After the whole one bed debacle you had been sure that you had been thrust into some shitty hallmark movie about being forced to spend time with your ex for holidays (one that probably wouldn’t have a happy ending but... Who knew.) Maybe that one cliché was just a coincidence. You sat up in bed, not really surprised to find that Mingyu was awake and reading through his book again. 

While he had never been much of a reader, Mingyu read what Wonwoo read, and this must have been his most recent recommendation. 

You quietly got out of bed, going over to your suitcase to pull out your outfit for today. 

“Mind if I shower?” You asked, noting that it looked like he had already gotten ready. 

“No go ahead. We have a reservation for breakfast in an hour.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. 

“We aren’t just eating breakfast here at the hotel?” 

“In New York City?” Mingyu questioned back. “If I remember right...” 

He pulled out that wrinkled paper itinerary. 

“You were very excited about Old John’s Diner.” 

You couldn’t help the way that your eyes lit up at the reminder of the restaurant. 

“Oh my god, chocolate chip waffles,” you said excitedly. “I’ll be out so fast.” 

True to your word, within the next hour you and Mingyu were sitting down at Old John’s diner. The diner was everything that you had imagined it to be in the pictures. Green stools at a bar, light up Parquette's that read: Take a Break and Sweet Dreams. An espresso machine to match the green bar stools, a led light that read: Since 1959. 

You were practically buzzing in excitement as you slid into one of the booths, your fingers spreading across the marble tabletops. 

“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” you hissed. Your waitress walked over adorned in a red hankerchief tied around her head like a headband and she smiled handing the two of you a menu. 

“Good morning,” she greeted. “Can I get you two started with anything? Water? Coffee?” 

“An Americano,” Mingyu said. 

“A latte,” you piped up afterwards. The waitress wrote down the menu items and smiled at the two of you.  

“I’ll give you some time to look at the menu and I’ll be back soon.” 

You didn’t have to look at the menu to know that you wanted chocolate chip waffles. How could you want anything but chocolate chip waffles? You had practically been thinking about these specific waffles for six months. 

But still you peeked up over the top of your menu, looking at Mingyu close, trying to tell by his eyes what he was going to pick. Six months ago you would have known. Six months ago he would have chosen exactly what you had suggested on the itinerary. 

But this wasn’t six months ago. This was now. 

“What are you thinking of getting?” You asked conversationally. Mingyu hummed, dragging his eyes up to yours. As soon as you two made eye contact however your eyes darted back towards your menu, feeling your heart do something strangely akin to skipping a beat. 

But surely, after having broken six months ago it was incapable of doing that. 

“Do I really have a choice?” He asked, but there was a smile in his voice. “Chocolate chip waffles.” 

Yep, that surely was that feeling in your chest. That echoing, body shaking thud after an absent one was nothing other than your heart reactigin to Mingyu’s words. You weren’t going to do this. 

You weren’t here to fall back in love with Kim Mingyu. 

 You were here to experience the city. To finally see Times Square dusted in snow. To take a walk through Central Park to- 

“Oh my god, wait.” You put your menu face down on the table. “If we are following my itinerary-” 

“To the T,” Mingyu added. 

“That means we’re doing.... Everything?” 

“Our next stop is Starbucks, and then we are seeing Santa Claus at the Empire State Building. We’ll get some KBBQ in Korea Town after that and then go to one of those Holiday Market’s you just wouldn’t stop talking about-” 

“Oh my god and then Spectacular Factory right?!” You exclaimed in excitement. 

“The Holiday Multiverse, open through January 8, is an imaginative multiverse of holiday villages with a candy cane carousel, thousands of nutcrackers, giant swinging jingle bells, holiday wreaths,” Mingyu read somewhat monotone. “We’ll hit the shops and check out the Holiday window displays.” 

“We’re finally going to get to go to Bergdorf Goodman,” you replied, fidgeting in your seat. “And shopping at Fao Schwarz.” 

“Which you kindly included closes at 8, so we have quite the day ahead of us,” Mingyu replied. “But luckily, the last thing on the docket today is open late.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to remember what the last thing for the day was, but you were drawing a blank. 

“McGee’s pub?” Mingyu reminded softly. 

“From How I Met Your Mother! The bar that inspired it all!” You exclaimed excitedly. You realized that you were getting a little loud and physically lowered your head a little. “Mingyu we’re keeping my entire itinerary?” 

“You spent hours on it!” Mingyu replied. “How could we do anything but?” 

He was right. You had spent a long time on it. But regardless it seemed crazy to you that he was going so far out of his way to make this the perfect vacation.  

“I’ve got to ask though... Starbucks?” 

When you looked at him you saw the jest in his eyes, but you still felt the need to defend yourself as if he wasn’t just joking. 

“It’s New York City!” You replied insistently. “How could I not get Starbucks in New York City?” 

A plate of gooey chocolate chip pancakes, and a tall caramel macchiato later and you and Mingyu were almost up for seeing Santa in none other than the Empire State Building itself. 

When you were younger and had imagined that architectural landmark you had never imagined it would be just as amazing as it was. Sure, it was just a building, but it still left you awestruck. Mingyu poked your arm. 

“We’re almost up,” he said softly. 

You thought it would be awkward to spend this time with Mingyu. And sure, it hadn’t been that long but so far it was everything but awkward. It was actually quite comfortable. You knew that if you had come to New York City for a weekend trip with most people your ideas would clash, but just like Mingyu had insisted since you started planning the trip when you were dating the trip was all about you and if you want to do it, then I will have fun guaranteed. 

“I can’t believe that you actually want to see Santa Claus,” you said with a scoff. 

“Hey, it was on your itinerary!” Mingyu protested. He crossed his arms. “Besides, I have something I need to ask Santa.” 

You laughed incredulously. 

“Mingyu,” you lowered your voice a few octaves. “Santa’s not real. He can’t make your Christmas wish come true.” 

Mingyu’s face contorted into that of a kicked puppies. His eyes wide, his eyebrows lax, his bottom lip protruding.  

“Not with that attitude he can’t.” 

“I just thought it would be good for pictures,” you said, resisting the urge to pat Mingyu’s head as if he actually were a dog. “But it seems a little odd to take pictures now.” 

“Proof that even exes can get along,” Mingyu said matter-of-factly. 

“Next.” 

You and Mingyu wormed your way around the velvet ropes up to the man pretending to be Santa Claus. He was sitting in a huge gold and velvet chair, with arm rests perfect for sitting on. 

“Well look what I have here,” Santa Claus boomed. “It’s always good to see older believers.” 

“Oh y/n, doesn’t really believe. Just wanted the pictures,” Mingyu tattled. 

“Yeah but you believe Mingyu. That’s what matters.” 

Mingyu’s eyes lit up in excitement that Santa knew his name, even though it was obvious that he had just overheard you two a few moments ago. Santa gestured for you two to take either side of him, patting his legs as you two took your seats by his side. 

“Now before the picture. Have you two been good this year?” Santa asked. Mingyu smiled so gummily it was like he was a little kid again. 

“Absolutely! I pulled a few pranks on the boys but overall, I’ve been good.” 

Santa let out a hearty laugh. 

“A few pranks is okay,” he said. He turned his attention to you. “And you? Have you been good this year?” 

“I’ve made a few mistakes,” you replied, risking a glance at Mingyu. “Some people think I’ve made ones I haven’t, but other than that I think I’ve been good.” 

“Well, we can’t help what others think,” Santa replied. “ But remember, this is the time of truth and forgiveness. If there’s ever a time that you would be able to convince someone of something you know to be true. Now is it.” 

Santa shrugged off-handedly. 

“Maybe that person already half-believes it anyways.” 

You couldn’t help but think that Santa was awfully on point with his speech but before you could say anything about it he was turning his attention to Mingyu. 

“Now Mingyu,” he said. “What is it that you want for Christmas?” 

Mingyu gestured for Santa to lean close. 

“I can’t let y/n hear or it won’t come true,” he insisted, making you roll your eyes. You couldn’t hear what Mingyu said but you noticed that his eyes stayed on you the whole time he told Santa his wish, and his expression was scarily serious. 

Santa nodded. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said seriously. He turned to you. “And what do you want for Christmas?” 

You knew that you were supposed to say something dumb that any adult would say. Or you were supposed to ask for something a kid would ask as as joke: Oh I’m still waiting on that Easy-bake oven. 

But any joke that was going to leave your mouth died on your lips. 

“I just want him to believe me,” you whispered softly. Your eyes flickered to Mingyu’s worried that he could hear you. Honestly, his serious expression didn’t tell you if he had heard or not, but regardless Santa pulled back. 

“I think I’ll be able to deliver on those Christmas gifts,” Santa said, sending a wink towards Mingyu. “Now why don’t we smile for the camera? Say Merry Christmas!” 

After Korean BBQ, the next destination was Grand Central Station for the Holiday Market. 

Again, you were taken aback by just how majestic the building was. Despite how people brushed into your sides, and how many different vendors there were to go look at you were completely awed by how large Grand Central was. The room was easily five times larger than you thought it was going to be. 

A giant, beige atrium with huge windows and wreaths scattered across the walls. 

“Are you sure you shouldn’t have gone into architecture?” Mingyu asked in amusement as he dragged you through the terminal. “You aren’t even paying attention to the venders.” 

You gave him a serious look. 

“I’m seriously wondering that as well.” 

It surprised you how much Mingyu was paying attention to you. He made sure not to wander away from you in the market. Noticed when you rushed away to look at something. He even made sure you didn’t miss a booth he knew that you would love. 

Mingyu had always been like this… Always known you so well.  

“I can’t believe we are actually here,” you exclaimed, your shoulder brushing against his. As soon as you made contact you shifted your body so that you were no longer touching. “This is so exciting.” 

Mingyu rolled his eyes lightly. 

“I never saw what you saw in that show,” he murmured. You ignored him and rushed over to the bar. You waved over a bartender, sliding them your ID and your card. 

“Can you open a tab? I think I would be remise to not start with the Naked Man,” you said excitedly. You nudged Mingyu. “And let’s see... A Gay Pirate or a Daddy’s Home for my friend here?” 

“Seems like a Gay Pirate sort of guy to me,” the bartender commented, a laugh left your lips, but it only made Mingyu grumble. 

“A Daddy’s Home,” he insisted. “Trust me. Under different circumstances I would be able to prove with this one alone that a Daddy’s Home suits me more.” 

Your face blazed red. 

“Naked Man, and Daddy’s Home,” you replied quickly, desperately not wanting Mingyu to elaborate on his comment. “We’ll be sitting over there.” 

You dragged Mingyu over to one of the booths, only to be shortly followed by your drinks. Both of your drinks, of course, being references to some of the ways that one of the characters, Barney, would pick-up girls. 

“Remind me again...” Mingyu said. “The Naked Man?” 

“When a date is going bad you ask to go up to their place to use the restroom- or any excuse really to get into their place. Then when you two are in separate rooms you strip naked and surprise them.” 

“And the show is claiming people will actually sleep with you after that?” 

“It has a two-thirds success rate,” you replied. Mingyu laughed incredulously.  

“And Daddy’s Home?” 

He gestured to his own drink. 

“Barney has so much rizz he can just walk up to a girl and say those two words to her, and she’ll be in his bed.” 

“No way,” Mingyu said, his body shaking with his laughter. “How could I possibly forget that?”  You leaned close to Mingyu, giving him a seductive expression. 

“Daddy’s home.” 

Mingyu laughed at your bravado and got up from the table. 

“You got me, I’ll be in your bed tonight,” he jested. “I’m going to get another drink. What should I get this time?” 

“Oh, I have the perfect drink you should get a..... Wait for it...” You paused just like Barney would in the show and then after a few silent moments you concluded. “Wait for it, the drink. It’s a drink.” 

Mingyu laughed at your antics. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back with a wait for it.” 

You nursed the drink in your hand as you looked around the somewhat familiar bar. As you sat there your phone began to go off. Your eyebrows scrunched and you raised your phone to your ear. 

“Hansol?” 

“Hey,” Hansol replied, clearly shifting the phone. “Are you and Mingyu fucking yet? Is this a good time?” 

“I know full well that you have me on Find My. You know that I’m at a bar right now.” 

Hansol laughed. 

“How’s New York?” 

“Beautiful,” you murmured. “Amazing.” 

You sighed. 

“Mingyu has been... He’s keeping my itinerary!” You exclaimed. Hansol’s confusion was heard through his voice. 

“What?” 

“Remember when we were first planning the trip?” You replied. “He kept my original plans. We went to see Beetlejuice yesterday and today we went to see Santa Claus at the Empire State Building!” 

Hansol was quiet on the other side of the line, so you sighed. 

“Yeah... I know.” 

“Do you?” Hansol asked. “Do you really know? Because it seems to me like you don’t realize just how stupid you are being.” 

“Nothing’s happening,” you insisted softly. “You’re being so dramatic. Everything has been normal. Just like we are two friends in New York City for a weekend.” 

“Yeah, nothing romantic about New York at Christmas,” Hansol agreed. “It may be fine right now but sooner or later you two are going to start getting to that point where the friendship is so comfortable it feels like your relationship all over again and then...” 

“The breakup is going to come back up,” you whispered. 

“Exactly.” 

“I don’t want to think about that right now.” You looked up and as you did Mingyu was standing there, setting his drink on the table. His eyebrows rose slightly, and you pointed at the phone, mouthing Hansol’s name. Mingyu nodded and sat down. “All I know is it’s been a good weekend. And look, I should be going.” 

“Mingyu’s back isn’t he?” Hansol asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“Let me hold you for just a little longer,” Hansol said. “Dasom is going on a trip too so it’s just me for the holiday’s.” 

“What?” You asked. “What about your mom? Sofia?” 

“They’re travelling so we’re not having Christmas until the 27th.” 

“Ah gee, I’m sorry,” you said softly. “You should come here. You could hang out with Mingyu and I.” 

“I do not want to be there when whatever you and Mingyu have going on goes up in flames,” Hansol replied. “Just think of calling me a bit this weekend. Send pictures.” 

“For sure,” you agreed. “I’m sorry I wouldn’t have come if I had known.” 

“It really is okay. Talk to you tomorrow?” 

You nodded and Hansol sighed. 

“Tell Mingyu I say hi.” 

“Okay. Bye Hansol.” 

You hung up the phone, shooting Mingyu an apologetic smile. 

“Hansol’s really worried about me,” you explained softly. You let that sit and then realized what you had said. “Not really of you or anything... It’s just he’s worried I’m going to get my heart broken.” 

You noticed that it didn’t get better the more you said. 

“Why would you be the heart broken one?” Mingyu asked. “I was the one who got cheated on.” 

Your lips pressed together uncomfortably, and you tried to think of a way to change the topic but you didn’t have to. Instead Mingyu tipped his drink towards you. 

“Yn. You should catch me up on what you’ve had going on,” he encouraged. You stared at him, suspiciously you’ll admit, and it made him sigh. 

“This is your bar isn’t it?” Mingyu pointed out softly. You looked down at your drink. “Let’s have fun? Like your tv friends. Tell me what you’ve had going on!” 

At first, you just told Mingyu little things. Tried to talk more about others than your life, but that didn’t work for very long because it was Mingyu you were talking to, and he knew you. Each time he made you laugh, or reminded you of some stupid inside joke you two shared it made your heart ache a little more. You didn’t mean to drink much... You really didn’t, but how could you not drink when all you could think was that eventually this was going to end. And come December 27th, you were going to be alone all over again, with Yoon Jeonghan trying to convince you to sleep with a stranger at a bar. 

And so, it wasn’t really all that surprising, that by an hour in you were completely wasted, and while it was surprising that Mingyu would ever actually be drunk, considering the amount at which you had been watching him dunk back drinks it made sense that he was in fact drunk. 

And, considering the way the conversation had turned... You knew that you both had to have been completely wasted to be joking about the fact that you had cheated on him. 

He laughed, but you could hear your heart thudding in your ears. You waited for the blaming to start again, waited to have to fight for your life trying to convince him that you hadn’t cheated. 

In fact, the sentence was on your tongue- 

“Unless... You didn’t cheat on me,” he continued. Your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. You couldn’t let your hopes get up. It had been too long since the breakup. He had probably stopped thinking about you months ago. There was no way that he had even come close to thinking that maybe you didn’t cheat on him. 

“Mingyu what are you talking about?” You asked. 

“The weirdest thing about our break up was probably the fact that I thought I knew you,” Mingyu said. “One thing that I had always taken for granted was that I could read you. I always knew when you were lying or telling the truth.” 

You let a small smile flicker across your lips. 

“God that was so frustrating,” you agreed softly. “I couldn’t lie to you if I wanted to.” 

“So how did you hide an affair from me?” Mingyu asked. You sighed, resting your head on your hand. 

“Do we really have to talk about this?” You asked. “It’s not going to get us anywhere.” 

“Just answer the question.” 

There’s nothing to answer,” you replied. “I didn’t hide an affair because I didn’t cheat on you. I don’t even know who the guy is that I supposedly cheated on you with!” 

“He’s one of Dasom’s friends,” Mingyu replied. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Wait one of Dasom’s friends-”  “You just... Even with all the proof laid out for me it doesn’t make sense.” 

Mingyu set down his drink and the now empty glass clicked against the table. 

“Can we not talk about this?” You asked Mingyu. “I don’t want to argue with you.” 

“I know you didn’t cheat on me,” Mingyu said finally. 

You looked at him, and your eyes drifted down to his drink. You wanted to be able to blame the alcohol on his words but he had barely drank anything at all. 

You thought maybe you hadn’t drank enough so you dipped the rest of your drink into your mouth. Your nose scrunched at the burn. 

“No you don’t,” you said. 

“I do,” Mingyu reasserted. “Look... I just-” 

He interupted himself to let out a frustrated noise. 

“When I saw those texts on your phone I felt so betrayed. I thought I knew you? I had already had someone telling me that you were cheating. They just pointed out some of your behaviors and claimed it was weird so there was this seed in my brain. And then I told Soonyoung about it...” 

He hesitated and glanced at the bar like he needed another drink. 

“Texts are so definitive and so I just cut you off. Soonyoung told me that was the best idea. You could convince me it wasn’t true and we knew it was, but... I know you.” 

“You don’t know me,” you negated.  

“I do and the whole time it felt wrong, and I have been scrounging for any excuse to get in contact with you again because you would never cheat on me.” 

You felt something warm and wet slide down your cheek and you immediately reached up to wipe the liquid away. There was no way Mingyu knew what he was saying. He couldn’t possibly mean what you thought he meant. 

“I do mean it,” Mingyu insisted. “Today only reminded me that having you in my life is the best thing that ever happened to me and I was stupid to cut you out without hearing you out.” 

“You were just protecting yourself.” 

“But it’s you,” Mingyu emphasized. He reached across the table and took your hands in his. “Will you date me again?” 

“Mingyu...” 

“I know that leaving you hurt you, and I promise to never do it again,” he insisted. “In six months, I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I’ve typed your number in my phone a million times. Soonyoung has taken all communication devices away from me when I was drunk countless times.” 

He squeezed your hands comfortingly. The only problem with that being that now you couldn’t stop the tears streaking down your cheeks. 

“Communication and trust are the two most important things in a relationship,” Mingyu continued. “I trust you, and I promise this time I will do nothing but communicate with you.” 

He made sure your eyes were on his for this next part. 

“I love you. Please come back to me.” 

You had to pull your hands away from Mingyu at this point because you were full on sobbing. Your hands covered your face as you rapidly wiped tears from your cheeks, only for them to immediately be streaked all over again. 

After only a few moments of your constrained gasps and hiccups you felt someone slide in beside you and muscular arms wrapped themselves around your body. You didn’t care to fight it anymore. You didn’t care what Hansol had to say about it. 

You turned into Mingyu’s body, letting yourself soak his shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” you managed to get out. One of his hands fell on your head. 

“For what?” He whispered. 

“For not being strong enough to protect you,” you mumbled. Mingyu laughed. 

“You’re the last person I need protected from.” 

When you had finally stopped crying you and Mingyu made your way back to the hotel. You were mostly quiet, your heart racing in your chest, both from the thrill of Mingyu’s confession and the uncertainty of what you really should do. 

Once you two had laid down you waited until his breathing evened to sneak out of bed and call Hansol in the hall. 

“Why the fuck are you calling me at two in the morning?” 

You completely ignored Hansol’s tone of voice. 

“You were right,” you mumbled. A surprised tone left Hansol’s side of the phone and you heard shuffling like he was sitting up in bed. 

“What happened?” 

“Mingyu confessed to me. He told me he loves me. He told me he believes me.” 

Hansol was quiet for a moment. 

“And?” 

“I believe him,” you replied softly. You heard Hansol let out a frustrated sigh. 

“I knew that this trip was only going to end one way,” he mumbled. 

“Well, is it a bad thing?” You blurted. “He loves me! I love him!” 

“But that doesn’t take away those messages on your phone.” 

You sighed. 

“But he trusts me. Text messages or not, he believes that I didn’t cheat on him.” 

“I mean if he really does feel that way, than that’s enough.” 

And there it was. The reason you called. The words you wanted to hear.  

“It’s enough,” you agreed.  

“But if he doesn’t feel that way...” Hansol started and you groaned. 

“But he does.” 

“You don’t know that for sure,” Hansol bit back. “I mean, what is going on with you two anyways? Weren’t you at a bar earlier-” 

“Well-” 

“And now, what? You are two exes, who just had an extremely romantic day in New York City at Christmas. Remembering the good old days, thinking about how Mingyu even smells the same way you remember him-” 

“He-” 

“And then you two go get drunk, high on the thought that Mingyu loves you, and what’s going to happen next?” 

You felt frustration bubbling inside your hazy brain. Because you wanted Hansol to be wrong. He was so stupid. Because Mingyu didn’t just say things. He didn’t just say he loved people. If he said it he meant it and... He had never said something drunk that he hadn’t meant to say... 

“Shut up Hansol.” 

“You know I’m right.” 

“You’re not rght Hansol, you’re wrong and you’re stupid and shut up,” you blurted out angrily. There was silence between the two of you. The silence in which you recalled just how drunk you were. Just how sad you were because you wanted everything that Mingyu had said to be true. You wanted him to be in love with you. 

“If he believes that you didn’t cheat, that’s enough,” Hansol said finally. Your fingers tightened on your phone. It was like he had hit rewind. 

“It’s enough,” you agreed firmly. 

You and Hansol were silent for a few moments, and then he sighed. 

“Did I say what you wanted? Can I go back to sleep now? Not all of us are on vacation you know.” 

A smile spread over your face even though you knew that Hansol didn’t really think it was enough. Even though you knew that it wasn’t enonugh. 

“Yeah, thanks Hansol.” 

Hansol grumbled back a you’re welcome and the connection promptly ended. You pressed your back against the wall of the hotel hallway and sighed, looking down at the carpet beneath your feet. 

Not a stain in sight. Mingyu had really done too much. 

Your heart skipped a slight beat. He had always been like that though. Spoiling you. 

It made warmth spread in your chest to think that this whole trip had been a plan to get back together for Mingyu. He wasn’t just being nice, he had planned this. Everything was done perfectly, purposefully to remind you both what it was like to be together. 

As you stood there thinking about Mingyu, the door to the hotel creaked open and Mingyu’s head popped around the corner. You stared at each other silently for a moment, a smile crossing his lips while your face reddened. 

“Hansol’s on our side now?” He asked, his hair wet from what you presumed was a shower. You stared at Mingyu for a moment, his words going over your head. You watched the water drip down his neck, and you noticed that where a shirt should be there was the collar of a fluffy white bath robe. 

You swallowed hard. 

“I thought you were a sleep,” you replied. He shrugged and pressed the hotel room door open further, and with that you caught sight of his whole body. No shirt... No pants... His white robe tied loosely around his waist barely concealing anything at all. 

He closed the distance between the two of you, his hand raising to caress your cheek. Your face burned even darker as he grew closer to you. 

“You always hated it when I kissed you right after drinking,” he mumbled. 

“Because you tasted like bad beer,” you replied, your nose wrinkling. Mingyu chuckled. “But you... You brushed your teeth.” 

Mingyu took that as all the approval he needed. He closed the distance between the two of you dragging you into a deep kiss. You felt yourself pressing closer to him as you two kissed, you raising your own hands to his cheeks to keep him as close as possible. 

God, it had been so long since you kissed someone, and you missed the feeling of needing someone’s lips on yours as much as you needed to breath. And as you two kissed your whole body began to burn. 

Mingyu walked you back a bit, pressing you into the wall. His knee settling between your legs. His hands brushed further back on your head, one of them lowering down to your neck, his thumb brushing the base of your throat as his other hand tugged lightly at your hair. 

You whimpered into Mingyu’s mouth involuntarily and you shifted your own hands to Mingyu’s wet hair. It was so slick, and he was so warm and this hallway was so cold. 

Mingyu’s hand began to make its way down your body, sliding down your sides, growing closer to a spot in which you really wanted Mingyu to touch you. 

And of course, with the worst timing ever that was when you heard the door click behind Mingyu. You, regrettably, pulled away from him. 

“Mingyu, did you bring out a key?” You asked. Mingyu’s eyebrows rose. 

“You didn’t?” 

“I left the door cracked!” 

Mingyu let out a soft laugh and his warmth escaped you. 

“I’ll go downstairs and get a spare key from the front counter.” 

You nodded. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

You thought about standing in the hall alone for a minute. 

“I’ll come with you.” 

When the two of you got back into the room, your body was still burning now partly with jealousy because the lady at the desk was about as distracted by your wet barely clothed ex-boyfriend as you were. And that had made you drag him back to your room, and that had meant Mingyu’s hand was on the back of your neck the entire rest of the trip back up. 

But the second that door was closed, and you stared at Mingyu with wide kiss me, fuck me eyes, he was groaning and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Y/n, you need to go to sleep,” he said softly. Your disappointment was clearly expressed on your face. He groaned again. 

“You don’t even know how badly I want to...” He let out a small laugh, his eyes flickering across your body. “But not like this... Not drunk. Not exes. Not without knowing that you want me too... So you need to go to sleep.” 

You resisted the urge to scream because when did men get so smart and emotionally intelligent. You nodded. 

“I’m going to take a shower first.” 

And when you got back out, Mingyu was already pretending to sleep, a wall of pillows piled in the middle of the bed. 

- 

Despite going to sleep so late, you and Mingyu were still up early enough to go to Pershing Café, and get some of the best, most fluffy pancakes that you had ever had in your life. After eating, Mingyu gidily asked you if you remembered what was next on the itinerary- you didn’t. 

At least you didn’t until the two of you were holding pairs of ice skates. 

This trip hadn’t felt real when you had planned it. Sure you had written up the perfect itinerary, meeting Santa Claus and going to a tv show bar, but regardless it had never really felt real. So standing with Mingyu in the center of Rockefeller Square? 

Well, you briefly forgot how to breath. 

Mingyu was acting so casually about everything, as if the Christmas tree that loomed over the square wasn’t the biggest you had ever seen, and as if ice skating at Rockefeller Square wasn’t something that you had dreamed about doing. As if, he hadn’t drunkenly confessed he still loved you the night before. As if you hadn’t almost let him fuck you. 

“Come on,” he said, laughing at your dazzlement. “If you never get your skates on, we’ll never get on the ice.” 

You nodded and sat down next to him, but you weren’t able to do much because as soon as you were down Mingyu was on his knees in front of you.  

If when you had woken up this morning you had been under the impression that your conversation at the bar hadn’t happened, that thought was nearly immediately banished from your mind, because everything about the way that Mingyu was treating you today, screamed that he was trying to win you back. 

Your face blazed in embarrassment. 

“Mingyu,” you hissed. “What are you doing?” 

“Helping you put your skates on,” Mingyu replied innocently. Before you could protest more he was slipping your shoes off, and replacing them with the clunky ice skates. 

His indifference to the situation didn’t make you any less embarrassed, and the girls looking over and cooing in envy at the sight of the two of you did make you more embarrassed. 

“Mingyu, I’m not a princess,” you protested, but you let him tie the shoes regardless because who were you to try and convince Kim Mingyu not to do something when he was determined. Mingyu just smiled up at you, as if he could read your thoughts. 

“But I can still treat you like one.” 

He stood up and held out his hand to you. 

“Come on, you’re good at ice skating, right?” 

You and Mingyu had never been on an ice-skating date before, and it wasn’t because you were afraid of the cold or the ice. It was because you knew that if Mingyu went down, you were going down too. You had no clue whether Mingyu would be good at ice skating or not. He could be amazing at it but he could also be absolutely terrible and either way you wouldn’t bat your eye. 

You had sort of secretly figured you would be better than him at it. 

You had sort of secretly figured wrong. 

Mingyu insisted on holding your hand. Of course, he did, considering all the other couples were doing so and the part of you that wanted to remind him that you two weren’t together anymore (thanks to him) couldn’t say it when you saw the look in his eyes.  

And thank god he did end up quietly convincing you to hold his hand because you couldn’t stay upright to save your life. While you would have fallen if Mingyu went down, Mingyu was as stable as a wall as you tumbled to the ground. He just laughed, slowed to a stop, peeked down at you: “Are you okay?” And lifted you up off the ground like it was nothing. 

It was humiliating, really, how much time you were spending sitting on the ice versus skating on it, but seeing Mingyu’s radiant smile and hearing his infectious laugh every time you fell made you not even care about the bruises you would surely have later. And it made your heart yearn because the thought that this might be one of the last times you ever hold Mingyu’s hand hurt worse than any fall. 

“Maybe we should call it a day,” Mingyu said after about an hour. You had gotten a bit more control of your balance at this point and you were skating just as good as the five-year-old that had just gotten here. 

“Tired of picking me up?” You managed to get out in a teasing tone because now your arms, your heart, and your ego had been bruised in one short hour. 

“No,” Mingyu laughed. “Your nose is just red from the cold, and if I remember right the next thing on our itinerary is hot chocolate.” 

- 

“This, is a marshmallow shop.” 

“A marshmallow shop with some of the best hot chocolate in New York City,” you replied pointedly. You looked along the wall at all the bags of the different types of marshmallows. You couldn’t help the way that you were practically drooling. Squish Marshmallows had a variety of different marshmallow flavors: Rocky Road, peanut butter and jelly, tea and scones. 

“What could tea and scones even taste like?” You asked excitedly. Mingyu seemed just as intrigued as you did. 

“We can’t just get hot chocolate here,” Mingyu said, practically bouncing as he spoke. A complete 360 from his initial reaction upon seeing the store. “I never knew that I needed cookie dough marshmallows in my life, but now I know I do.” 

You laughed as Mingyu led you up to the counter, remembering what it was like to have Kim Mingyu match your energy.  

First ordering two cups of hot chocolate, both with your choice of marshmallow, and then ordering a variety of the different flavors for you two to try. You had to stop him after back tracking to get more than two of each flavor: 

“But what if we like them all so much we want more?” 

“Think about the calories Mingyu.” 

“What is the point of vacation if I’m thinking about calories?”  

“So, how long have you been planning this?” You asked softly. “Like, really.” 

“Thinking of what? Getting you back?” You didn’t respond so he mulled over what you had asked. “I think I was upset for about a month before I started to think about you. Like really think about you.” 

You two wandered around the Union Square Holiday Market, him stopping at a booth with little yarn bracelets. 

“I thought about what our relationship used to be like. Like I remembered you letting me come over after you got out of classes because I hadn’t gotten to see you all day. I remembered that you let me keep you up until five even thought you had an eight am.” 

Mingyu picked up one of the bracelets up, showing it to you: “Is this still your favorite color?”  

Your heart was pounding in your throat so hard that you couldn’t even open your mouth to answer. You just nodded. Mingyu smiled down at the bracelet, nodding slowly. 

“Real,” he whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. Before you could even realize he was doing it- Mingyu was buying the bracelet, and handing it straight to you. 

“So I already missed you and that was when I got an email reminder that I had booked this trip. And that is when I started to plan this.” 

Of course. 

“Months,” you mumbled softly, your fingers picking at the bracelet Mingyu had just given you. The bracelet that had been next to so many in a similar shade of the one in your hand. A bracelet that Mingyu had skimmed over a few times while he looked at the bracelets before finally setting on that one, that one perfect one. Because this wasn’t just your favorite color, it was near perfect to the exact shade down to the color code that you liked. 

How could he have remembered something like that about you? 

“Mingyu do you know how crazy it is to have been planning to convince me to go on a trip to New York city with you before... I don’t know, asking me to grab coffee with you and talk through our break up?” 

The question irritated Mingyu. 

“What do you expect? Me to sit you down in some coffee shop that will make me want to bang my fist into the wall and ask you if you cheated on me?” He asked you. 

“Well what do you expect?” You shot back at him. “What conversation do you think we will have in New York City that we wouldn’t have in that stupid coffee shop?” 

Mingyu’s nostrils flared a little bit. 

“Did you cheat on me?” He asked you. 

“No,” you pressed. You two were quiet before finally Mingyu pointed at a stand behind you, adorned in fancy lanterns, the green roof only a bit taller than him. 

“And do we have a lantern stand at your coffee shop?” He asked you. He pointed at the booth next to it. “Or a caricature stand?” 

Your eyes narrowed at Mingyu. 

“How do two people fight in New York City y/n?” 

You wanted to point out that technically, this was a fight. That no amount of christmas lights or kids walking past the two of you would make this not a fight.  

“New York City doesn’t make me love you again,” you said softly. A flash of hurt went through Mingyu’s eyes. 

“But New York City can make you fall back in love with me,” Mingyu replied. Your fingers twitched at your sides because it was hard enough to be in love with Mingyu and have to pretend you weren’t because this was all so stupid. The kind of stupid that only you and Mingyu could possibly have gotten caught up in. 

But instead, you leaned into what Mingyu had been trying to say earlier. 

“Are those... Are those not the most beautiful wooden ornaments you have ever seen?” You asked him, pointing behind him. When Mingyu didn’t respond, you pressed the issue. “No, Mingyu, these are so beautiful I think actually that your mom would love one.” 

The atmosphere between the two of you quickly evolved back into what it had been before, and that was perfect and just in time for the next item on your docket. 

“Street dogs!” You said excitedly rushing up to the carnival-esque hot dog stand on the side of the road. You bounced at the edge of the stand, waiting patiently for Mingyu to join you at your side, your eyes focused on the red and yellow sinage before you.  

“Nathan’s famous,” you said excitedly. “This is the next thing on the list right?” 

“Right you are,” he replied pointedly. “And after this George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker. Balcony seats.” 

You gasped, and you didn’t know why you were even surprised at this point. You slapped your hand against his chest. 

“That’s too expensive,” you insisted. 

“I figured we could spare a buck or two with how much money we’re spending on our meal before hand,” he replied, his tone high with jest. 

“You know that you’re crazy for this right?” You asked Mingyu.  He smiled down at you, still completely unbeknowst of the sullen mood that had suddenly overcome you. “I’m serious.” 

You shifted your wait and gestured, frustratedly at the New York City streets as if they had done something to offend you. 

“You can fool me with the other things. The plane ticket, the hotel room, even the broadway tickets- Which by the way I know you can easily just resale,” you stated pointedly. “But tickets to the Nutcracker?” 

“I’m not trying to hide anymore the fact that I made this trip happen,” Mingyu said, and his tone was still airy while yours was drowning in your own frustrations. “And whether or not my very brillant plan works, I will not regret the money I spend on this trip.” Your faced was painted in dismay. “And I will not regret the money I spend on these hot dogs.” 

“We are not dating,” you said back insistently. 

Frustration flickered across Mingyu’s face, while he was trying so hard not to fight. 

“Y/n, it’s just ballet tickets.” 

“You shouldn’t be spending money on the girl who cheated on you,” you stated bluntly. And again, Mingyu’s expression soured. 

“Y/n, don’t-” 

Someone suddenly bumped into Mingyu, causing him to inturn bump into you. His hands immediately went to your shoulders to help settle you. You two looked over at the person that had bumped into you two and it was curiously enough a Santa. He gave you an apologetic expression. 

“I’m so sorry to bump into you two,” he said softly. He let out a small but hearty laugh. “But it seems that you two don’t mind too much.” 

He sighed, sounding a bit exhausted. 

“Young love...” 

“Oh it’s not-” 

“But, oh, you won’t hear me complaining that much,” he continued, ignoring your protests. “Even though Mrs. Claus and I have our ups and downs sometimes even after all these years she still makes me feel like a teenager all over again.” 

He laughed again shaking his head. 

Neither you or Mingyu knew what to say but you didn’t have to because after only a few moments you heard the sound of christmas beels ringing. He reached down and pulled out a pocket watch. He tutted when he saw the time. 

“I’m always late,” he said with a shake of his head. Then his eyebrows furrowed and he gestured to the two of you. “And don’t you two have a ballet to catch?” 

Mingyu suddenly snapped out of his trance. 

“Oh! He’s right, we’re going to be late,” He said. He rushed over to the hot dog stand that lucky had no line nad quickly bought to hot dogs for the two of you. He shoved one into your handd. 

“Come on, we’ve got to go.” 

- 

You couldn’t be mad at Mingyu for the amount of money he had spent on you for too long, because when you started crying during the Nutcracker and you reached over to grab Mingyu’s hand and saw that he was actually crying harder than you were you remembered one of Mingyu’s finer points. 

He was one of the most caring people that you had ever met. Mingyu never let a single person around him feel uncared for, unless they were an absolutely horrrible person. He was able to make connections with anyone and everyone. The kind of person who saw someone crying on a sidewalk, would stop to talk to them, and would actually be able to comfort said person. 

When you two had first met that had been the reason you didn’t realize at first he liked you. Because the whining for attention, the offers to carry your things, the middle of the night texts to come over and play video games and actually playing video games screamed not only just friends in your face but also treats everyone this way. 

But then he asked you out and you realized that despite the fact he was nice to everyone, that niceness was different when it came to you. So at first, maybe the first few months with Mingyu you were jealous. Jealous of every girl that he talked to. Even jealous of his friends. 

And then it hit you that there was something different about you. Something that made you stand apart to Mingyu from all the other people. 

And even though you couldn’t see it, that was enough for you. 

And it had always been enough for you. 

And despite everything that thing that Mingyu saw that set you apart from others had made him continue to think about you even after he thought you had cheated on him. And it had made him think through what had happened. And it had made him doubt. And that was enough for you. 

You two were walking through the Dyker Heights with him, your shoulders brushing as you looked at the extravagant colorful lights decorating the houses. Mingyu kept letting your fingers brush, and while he pretended to be looking at the lights you knew that the only thing on his mind was you. 

You were a bit tired of pretending. 

You finally intertwined your hands together, feeling the giant man perk up at the touch. You sighed softly. 

“To be honest, I want to be with you,” you whispered. Mingyu’s fingers tigethened in your grasp. 

“Really?” He asked you softly. You looked back over at him, his face illuminated in red and blue lights. 

“Of course really,” you mumbled softly. You let out a small laugh, but there was pain concealed in it. “I thought you knew me.” 

Mingyu let out a soft laugh with you. 

“I do know you,” he said. “Y/n, did you cheat on me?” 

“No,” you insisted quickly. “I didn’t cheat on you! I didn’t even think about cheating on you. I don’t even know who the guy is.” 

Mingyu stared at you, seeming to note the desperation in your voice. 

“I told you already he’s Dasom’s friend,” he replied slwoly. 

“She’s never even mentioned him before!” You blurted back, the frustration rising. “Surely when I was balling my eyes out about the break up and about how I didn’t even know who that guy was she would have thought to mention that it was her friend.” 

Mingyu stared at you, his face molding into one of confusion. 

“What did you say?” 

You didn’t know what he was confused about. 

“That I was crying over our break up?” 

He shook his head, grabbing you by the shoulders. 

“No, no not that. You said Dasom was there when you were crying about your break up.” 

Your frustration simmered. 

“Well, yeah? She’s my friend.” 

“No she’s not,” Mingyu said bluntly. Your face contorted more. 

“What the fuck Mingyu? Yes, she is? You got Soonyoung in the break up and I got Dasom and Hansol,” you replied slowly. Mingyu let out a small laugh. 

“No, I got Soonyoung and Dasom in the breakup,” he replied. 

Jingle bells was playing in the distant background as you tried to process what Mingyu was saying. 

“You’re still friends with Dasom?” You asked. 

“Dasom was the one who told me that you were cheating on me,” he said insistently. Despite the fact that you two were clearly talking about something serious. You know the reason that you two broke up, Mingyu was now fully laughing now. You were still confused, and you furrowed your nose, turning your head a bit. 

“Mingyu I don’t understand.” 

“Dasom made everything up.” 

Before you could ask him what he was trying to get at, Mingyu was pulling out his phone. His phone started to ring, and he put it on speaker phone. When a small hello rang out- Dasom, Mingyu put a single to his lips. 

“Dasom, you were right.” 

As soon as Mingyu started to talk his joyous expression dropped.  

“Why don’t I listen to you more? You told me that y/n cheated on me back then. You told me that cheaters never change. You told me that I would get hurt all I over again but I still came to New York and-” 

He interrupted himself with a very convincing choked sob, that made you really think he was crying. You worriedly made eye contact with him, and at that he gave you the biggest, most radiant smile, you had seen on his face in a while. 

He was a psycopath. 

“Mingyu, I’m so sorry,” Dasom’s voice came sympathetically, and you noticed that with it her voice was rising. “It’s so hard to accept and notice when you are being used. But it’s over now then, yeah? You can finally move on.” 

“What is it that you always say to me?” Mingyu asked, his voice sounding broken. “That promise you always say?” 

“I’ll pick up the pieces that y/n broke,” Dasom said immediately, not even pausing in thought. “I’ll always be there for you Mingyu. I love you, and I can and will treat you the way that you deserve to be treated.” 

Again that smile broke out on Mingyu’s face. He gestured to his phone as if something huge had been revealed. 

“I have to go Dasom,” Mingyu said, his voice still sounding completely wrecked. “I just... I just can’t believe I let y/n break my heart again.” 

“Take all the time you need Mingyu.” 

Mingyu clicked to end the call, and then without even letting you process what the fuck just happened, he was grabbing your phone from you, unlocking it because you had never changed the password, and was dialing Dasom’s number. 

As the phone began to ring he shoved it back in your hand. 

“You’re heart broken, you don’t understand why I don’t trust you, and you need support from your friend,” he explained quickly. And then Dasom was picking up the call. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong? You don’t usually call me?” 

You didn’t give yourself time to think. You just did the one thing that you had wished Mingyu did six months ago, and blindly trusted him. 

“Dasom, I don’t understand. He still thinks... He still thinks that I cheated on him,” you said, your voice hushed. You made sure to take appropriate pauses, making it sound like you were having trouble speaking. 

“Y/n... Hansol and I told you that this trip would only end badly.” 

“But I don’t understand!” You exclaimed, your voice rising. “He told me all that time ago that he loved me, and then he doesn’t even believe that I don’t even know who the guy is I was supposed to be cheating on!” 

Mingyu was looking at you, very seriously, paying attention to every word. 

“Who even is that person?” 

“I don’t know y/n. We won’t ever know now will we? You both know now surely. You’re better off without one another.” 

And then, finally what Mingyu had been trying to insinuate. The thing that he had already somehow figured out, crashed into you like a train. Your heart skipped a beat, and for just a second the world slowed. 

And you last your chance at an Oscar. 

“Oh my god... You broke us up.” 

The phone call was silent for a few moments, and then Dasom spoke. Her voice scarily even. 

“What?” 

“You broke us up,” you said again, your voice rising. “The only person who could have had access to my phone other than Mingyu or Hansol was you. You put those texts on my phone. You played it out to be your friend to make your plan more convincing. You pretended to be both of our friends just so that you could fucking get Mingyu.” 

There was silence on the call as your brain continued to rush to catch up with your thoughts. 

“Because you’re in love with him.” 

More silence, and you looked up at Mingyu, not even realizing tears were streaming down your face. 

“You two are together... Aren’t you?” Dasom asked. 

“I thought we were friends,” you said, and you didn’t have to pretend that you were heart broken this time. You really were. 

“I saw Mingyu first y/n,” Dasom blurted with an anger that you didn’t even know that she had. “He loves you so much he was fucking blind. That’s not fair! It should have been me. I had to feed him so many lies, and convince Soonyoung that complete no contact was better just so that I could keep Mingyu from realizing the truth.” 

Her voice was shaking even over the phone. 

“But you two are both so fucking stupid. Who goes on a Christmas weekend trip to New York City with their fucking ex?” 

“Dasom-” Mingyu said, taking your phone from your hand. He turned the phone off speaker and turned away from you, his voice dropping a few octaves, so that you couldn’t hear what he said. And then, after about a minute of hushed conversation, your phone was being slid back into your hand. 

Tears streamed down your face, and Mingyu leaned forward, his thumbs brushing the tears off of your face. 

“Y/n...” He let you cry there. Brushing the tears off of your cheeks before they could drip all the way down your chin. Your body shook as you tried to comprehend the emotions you were feeling. 

The fact that Dasom had been lying to you for so long made you so completely upset. The fact that she was willing to manipulate you because of unrequited love hurt even worse. But then, you were in New York City at Christmas with the love of your life, and he had been so hard to manipulate that after six months her lies no longer worked. 

The tears slowly stopped streaming and Mingyu’s hands took your face in his. He leaned close to you, his nose brushing yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have trusted you. I should have completely and fully trusted you.” 

You didn’t say that you couldn’t have expected that from him. You didn’t tell him that you were both the victims really. Instead, your ears zoned in on the song playing in the distance. 

I really can’t stay... Baby, it’s cold outside 

A laugh erupted through your body. 

“This song is so creepy Mingyu,” you said. His lips flickered into a smile and he seemed to focus on the faint lyrics as well. 

“This evening has been,” he sang along with the words, taking your hands in his. “So very nice.” 

You laughed at him, but you let him start to drag you into a small little dance on the sidewalk. As you two drifted together, a few other couples began to do the same thing as you. Each of them pulling their partner close into a slow dance along with the melody of a frankly predatory song. 

And yet, as you looked up at Mingyu, all you could think about was how lucky you were for this trip. 

“Mingyu,” you said softly, your lips pulling up at the corners. “I don’t know if this is still on the table but if you wanted to go out again-” 

Mingyu interrupted you before you could finish, dragging you into a passionate kiss. You laughed against his lips, slapping his chest. 

“I was about to say that I don’t want to date you-“ 

Another kiss, and you were still laughing and pushing away from him. 

“I’m serious Mingyu I think we’re much better at being exe-“ 

He interrupted you with another kiss, and once he had properly stolen the breath from your lungs he was speaking. 

“Y/n we are awful at being exes,” he said lightly. “Exes don’t spend Christmas together in New York City.” 

You couldn’t hide the stupid gummy smile on your lips, and you couldn’t help nod along with him. 

“We truly are awful exes,” you agreed. “So I’m super glad that we are together again-” 

Mingyu smiled so hard you thought his face was gonna break. 

“We are together again,” he said gummily. “For our first date… Have you ever heard of a New York City Christmas Miracle Pop-up bar?” 

- 

Everything was perfect. 

As terrifying as it was to say so. The Miracle Pop-up bar was just as beautiful as Dyker Heights had been. The christmas lights were practically blinding, and the walls of the makeshift bar were lined in tinsel. When you looked up along with sparkling white snowflakes there were faux wrapped presents hanging from the ceiling. 

In the past you had wondered what kinds of lonely people went to a bar on Christmas Eve. But this Christmas eve? Your shoulder brushing Mingyu’s as he played pool against a different couple one from Texas, you understood that in New York City? A bar on Christmas Eve was just the place to be. 

When Mingyu had lost his pool game and needed comforting you two had found a somewhat quiet spot in the bustling bar and spent hours just catching up. 

You told Mingyu everything you had missed, all the people that you had met that you couldn’t wait for him to see. All the things that had happened you were sad he missed. All the work gossip about your coworkers that he still remembered every detail about. 

And by the time that you two were leaving the bar and you two were walking down the street, you didn’t think things could get any better. 

“Y/n it’s snowing.” 

Before you could stop him Mingyu had taken off down the sidewalk. He slipped a little on the exact thing he was excited about but he regained his balance almost immediately and then made his way into what looked to be a park. 

You laughed and chased after him- A bit more careful than he was though. You slipped anyways when you got into the snow-covered grass, and fell into a small pile with an audible oof. 

You were thinking that surely your heroic, white knight, boyfriend who you hadn’t really been around in six months would come running to your rescue but instead a cold pack of snow hit your face. You let out an astonished laugh, looking over at Mingyu. 

“Hey-” 

“Merry Christmas!” He called out, as if he hadn’t just thrown snow in your face. You scrambled to your feet, scooping up some snow in your own hands.  

“Yeah, Merry Christmas,” you bit back. Mingyu must have seen the determination spread over your face and realized that he had messed up. He started to try to barter for his dry clothes but just as he started to talk a snow ball was hitting his face and it was over for you two. 

You were sure as the two of you made your way into the hotel, jackets wet and half off that all the attendants thought that you two were drunk, but as you two burst into your hotel room, absolutely freezing from the cold, you knew that there wasn’t a drop of alochol in your system. 

And remembering what Mingyu had said to you the night before you were glad that the two of you hadn’t drank at the bar. 

As soon as the hotel room door clicked behind you, you were being shoved against it. Mingyu’s lips on your lips, and his hands pressing your wet clothes off. You raised your hands to his head, pulling at his strands of hair as he tried to get your clothes off. 

“Y/n you’re so warm,” he mumbled against you, his head dipping to kiss the nape of your neck. You shivered. 

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you hadn’t dragged me into-” As you spoke Mingyu’s fingers dipped into your pants, and without a second thought he pushed two fingers deep into you. “-The snow.” 

“No... You’re always this warm,” he said, his tone hushed. “Especially when I have my hands on you.” 

A whimper ripped through your body, and your fingers gripped desperately at Mingyu’s shoulders. 

“Oh Mingyu, fu-”  

“Where you with anyone?” Mingyu asked you softly, his expression zereoed in on you. You could barely think enough to answer because no you had not and it had been so long since anyone had touched you but yourself that you had forgotten how good it felt. 

And Mingyu wasn’t making it easier to answer. His fingers began to slowly push in and out of your pussy which had been soaked way before he had gotten you into this hotel room, but now it was to the point that you were almost uncomfortable. You wiggled under his grasp, trying to remember how to think or breathe but all you were thinking about was if Mingyu’s cock was as big as you remembered... 

Mingyu suddenly raised a hand to your chin, and he squeezed your face there between his fingers, forcing your face to look at his. 

“I wasn’t with anyone,” he said, his voice urging you to listen to what he was saying. Something about his words made that aching for his touch even worse. 

“I can’t talk right now,” you managed to get out. Mingyu didn’t stop slowly easing his fingers in and out of you. Not teasing you. No... He was stretching you out. BUt he was taking his time with it. 

You did not want him to. 

You began to desperately push at his shirt, trying to push it off his body. But when you realized you couldn’t get it off with his hand in your pants, you were trying to get his pants off instead. 

“I need you so badly Mingyu, I need you so bad.” 

Your words were a desperate whine at the tip of your tongue, and it made Mingyu laugh at you. 

“It’s been that long?” He asked you teasingly. You gave him a very serious look. 

“Six months is too long,” you said bluntly. His expression sombered a bit and he nodded. 

“Six months is too long,” he agreed. 

Without telling each other to, you both suddenly separated, began to rip off one another’s clothes. You two were, for once, almost as in sync as you two had been when you were dating. When you were struggling to get off your shirt, Mingyu stopped to help you rip it off. He paused to press a kiss to you and then immediately he had pulled away so that you could rip his shirt off, before the two of you were finally naked. 

Mingyu paused once his clothes were off, and your clothes were off. He was staring at you, with the look of someone who was so in love with you he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

But you didn’t need someone to look at you like he was in love with you right now. You needed someone to look at you like they needed to be inside of you. You pushed Mingyu back onto the bad, climbing into his lap as soon as he was there. 

You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your lips against Mingyu’s in a desperate air sucking kiss. Mingyu happily let himself be dragged into it, and as you kissed him, his hands found your ass. 

“I wonder what all has changed in the last six months...” He whispered against your lips. You mostly ignored him in favor of grinding yourself down on his cock. Wanting it inside of you so badly you could scream. “Are you still into this?” 

His hand suddenly came down on your ass. You yelped, but it turned into a whimper that had your forehead pressing to Mingyu’s as you tried to keep yourself from sliding him into you yourself. 

That was answer enough for him. 

“Oh you are.” 

His fingers slid a bit, and slipped back inside of you. You whined at the stretch of his fingers because this time there were three. 

You rolled your hips down on Mingyu’s fingers, trying to force them deeper into you. Mingyu laughed. 

“Y/n, you’ve never been so desperate for cock,” he teased you lightly. Before you could respond his head had dipped and he had nipped a spot on you that had always been particularly sensitive. You slammed your hand over your mouth, letting out a sob of desperation. 

“And I see that I still remember that about you,” he mumbled softly. You wanted to hit him because now wasn’t a time for experimenting on what he remembered you liked and if you still liked it, but instead you pulled your hand away from your mouth and leaned back. 

“Mingyu, please, please, please,” you begged. “Cock, I need your cock.” 

You reached down between the two of you, taking his cock in your hand. You had been dripping all over it, so once your hand was on it your fingers were sliding across its length with ease. You tipped it up a bit, and it hit your clit. 

Your forehead hit Mingyu’s. 

“Oh god, Gyu I need it now.” 

Mingyu’s fingers slipped out of you. 

“Whatever you need baby.” 

You couldn’t have lined yourself up with his cock faster. You started to push yourself down on him fast- But you quickly slowed down your pace because despite the three fingers inside of you, it was still a bit of a stretch. 

As soon as the tip of his cock was inside of you however, you had leaned forward, catching his lips so that you could hide your pathetic whines. But while the kiss did contain your whines and moans to a minimum, they did not conceal how badly you felt like you needed Mingyu right now. 

Because as you kissed him and lowered yourself down on his cock, your hands were all over his chest and his neck and his face, and in his hair, drowning him in a kiss that was so intense whenever you two had a chance to breath, you were gasping for air. 

And you didn’t slow down when you had gotten all the way down on his cock. In fact, when you started to fuck yourself on Mingyu’s cock you only started to sound more desperate. 

Your whine’s became nearly indistinguishable to moans, and your pace was inconsistent. Anytime that you felt like you just couldn’t fuck yourself on his cock anymore you were rolling your hips down on him, feeling his cock twitch inside of you, hearing his own whines escape his lips. 

“Y/n, if you keep this up-” His voice was broken. “I’m going to do something inside of you that I really shouldn’t do.” 

One of his hands tightened on your hips to slow you down, but you deterred that by grabbing both of his cheeks in your hands. You probably sounded a bit crazy when you blurted out: “Do it.” 

But it made a whimper escape Mingyu’s lips that made you feel as crazy as you sounded. 

“Do it Mingyu, fucking come inside of me, please. It’s been six months since I was even touched like this. I need it-” 

You interrupted yourself because you could feel Mingyu’s cock twitching inside of you and you knew that you had said enough. Your lips collided with Mingyu’s again, but his orgasm was ripping through him so intensely that he couldn’t even focus on that. So you just bit at his bottom lip, forcing yourself to keep fucking him as his cock spurted cum deep inside of your pussy. 

Your fingers tugged at the roots of his hair as your orgasm began to approach, but before you could hit it. Mingyu’s hands were stilling you. You cried out in desperation at the sudden stop, but before you could complain you were being flipped. 

Your back hit the bed, and Mingyu’s hands were on your hips again, pulling you close to him sharply. 

“I remember that you like this.” 

To be fully honest, he could have done anything to you and you would have liked it. But Mingyu pressed his hand down on your stomach and fucked you so hard that you were coming under him in mere seconds. 

Even if you had wanted to keep yourself together, you couldn’t have. You were making grabby hands at him as you came underneath him, so loud that you thought you would get complaints- Did people even make noise complaints in hotels? But Mingyu didn’t kiss you again until you had stopped shaking underneath of him. 

He stilled himself, burying his cock deep inside of you as he came all over again. As soon as Mingyu was close enough that you could shove him down onto you, you were. You two became a mess as you continued to kiss him like your life depended on it, and that kissin did not make the burning in the pit of your stomach go away. 

You flipped yourself back ontop of Mingyu, taking in the blissed expression on his face. 

“We’re going to make up for six months in one night,” you said suddenly, your hands pressing down on his chest so that he was still under you. Mingyu gave you a wide-eyed smile. 

“Whatever you say.” 

- 

When you woke up the next morning Mingyu wasn’t there. It felt like it had felt every single day for the last six months for about two seconds. And then Mingyu was leaving the bathroom, fully naked with a towel drying his hair like he was the main male lead. 

When he saw you looking his smile grew. 

“Oh sorry, did you want to take a shower with me.” 

Your face burned at the implication, and you looked over at the time on the clock on the nightstand. You squinted. 

“Where is breakfast today?” You asked him softly. He began to rummage through his luggage. 

“Here,” he replied. You heard him getting his clothes together, and you resisted the urge to look at him because it meant that you were going to want to stop him from putting those clothes on. 

“Then we don’t have a lot of time left,” you said with a soft groan. You let your head hit the pillow again. “Breakfast at hotels are too early.” 

Your eyes fluttered open in time to see Mingyu leaning down to kiss you. You couldn’t help the way you let yourself be physically pulled out of bed, chasing after his lips even as he pulled away. 

“If I could make breakfast stay open longer for you,” Mingyu promised lightly. 

“Even if you could,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. “We have a schedule to keep?” 

“That we do.” 

Even though breakfast at a fancy hotel meant you weren’t the ones making your own waffles, they didn’t taste quite as good as the breakfast’s that you two had been having. Not that it really mattered. It was still breakfast. An amazing breakfast. With every food group, and Mingyu was picking food off of your plate, and it was enough to remind you of sleepovers in the past. 

And it made you unbelivably happy. 

After breakfast you two bundled back up, Mingyu wrapping your scarf around your neck as you shimmied in your shoes. And then you two were checking off just another one of your New York City wishlist boxes. 

Central Park. Central Park, covered in fluffy, white snow. 

It sounded a bit cheesy, but looking around at the ice sparkling on the tree limbs it reminded you of Narnia. With the old fashioned lightposts, and the pure emptiness of it all. Other than the random other couple, it was really just you and Mingyu there walking through the snow. Talking about good times, remembering the good times. 

“Mingyu, I can’t... I can’t emphasis enough how perfect this trip was,” you said softly. “I mean, even when we were planning it, this was a dream trip. The perfect trip. Everything down to the second.” 

Mingyu nodded slowly. 

“You did an amazing job planning it,” he agreed. You sighed. 

“But this trip would have been nothing without you,” you insisted. You grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “You mean everything to me.” 

Mingyu nodded slowly, his other hand fidgeting around in his pocket. 

“You mean it?” He asked you softly. Your eyebrows furrowed a bit. 

“Of course I do,” you said softly. 

“But do you mean it,” Mingyu asked again. “Outside of this. Christmas, and New York, and the memories of what we used to have. Can you really actually, honestly see a future with me.” 

You thought about your relationships prior to Mingyu’s, and you thought about what it had been like to be with Mingyu. Sure when you broke up with people before you had been sad, and you had been wanting them back, but yif you thought about it right now. If you put all those people back in a room together and they all told you that they were in love with you and that you wanted them back there was only one person that you could really imagine saying yes to. 

“I’ve always been able to see a future with you,” you said honestly. Mingyu’s lips flickered into a small smile. “But what about you Mingyu? You thought I cheated on you, how do you know those feelings aren’t ever going to come back?” 

Mingyu nodded slowly at your question, his eyes very briefly trailing away from yours. 

“Because it’s you,” he said. “Outside of New York, and Christmas, and missing you the person that I have wanted to spend my life with has always been you. Did you know that? Do you know how long I have known that I wanted to be with only you for the rest of my life?” 

You shook your head blankly. 

“Since Hansol first introduced the two of us,” Mingyu said. “I don’t know... I know it’s stupid to believe in love at first sight-” 

You laughed, rolling your eyes a bit because of course he would say something dumb like this, and of course you knew that he meant it to his core, and of course it made your heart skip a beat. 

“But I think that the first time I saw you I knew that you were the one that I wanted to be with.” 

Mingyu leaned down to you, pressing a small kiss to the tip of your freezing nose. You smiled up at him, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. 

“Mingyu-” 

“Hey, look at that,” Mingyu interrupted. He pointed over your shoulder and you looked towards where he had pointed, wondering what was so important to him that he interrupted your moment. You stared into Central Park. At the snow, at the trees... You didn’t see anything. 

“Mingyu, what am I supposed to be looking for?” You asked him, a laugh in your voice because of course Kim Mingyu would have seen something tiny in Central Park that would completely distract him from the moment that you two were having. 

“Oh, nothing over there.” 

Your confusion grew, and you turned around and the sight before you made your heart promptly stop. For one... Two... Three... 

“Oh my god.” 

Mingyu was on one knee in the snow, his gloves discarded next to him in the snow so that his hands were out. He had a small box in his hands, open, showing off what could only be described as your dream ring. 

You took a step back, your hand covering your mouth. 

“Mingyu-” 

“Y/n I love you,” Mingyu interrupted, his eyes red as he looked up at you. “I’m sorry for everything these last six months, but I know now and have always known that no matter what I want you to be the person I spend the rest of my life with.” 

He nervously glanced down at the ring in his hand. 

“So much so that I bought this ring shortly after we started dating,” he said, a twinge of embarrassment in his voice. “And so much so that I never returned it. Even after we broke up.” 

His eyes flickered back up to yours, and he shrugged a little. 

“Six months is a really long time, y/n, and I never ever want to be apart from you for that long again.” He laughed. “So, if you could make me the happiest man-” 

You interrupted him before he could say the corniest most overdone sentence in the book. 

“Yes,” you blurted, surging forward so that you could wrap your arms around Mingyu. “Yes, okay, I’ll marry you.”  

You were laughing as your knees hit the snow, and as you grabbed Mingyu’s face and kissed him. And as he tried to take your gloves off of your hand so that he could slide the ring he had gotten you onto it. 

“This trip-” You asked hushedly, watching the ring slide onto your finger. 

“Was always meant to be the one that ended with you having a ring on your finger,” he said softly. He wrapped his hands around yours. “I don’t know what I would have done if you said no.” 

He was laughing. 

“But you knew I wouldn’t,” you whispered back. He nodded. 

“I knew you wouldn’t,” he agreed. He leaned in again, to kiss you and you let him. 

You couldn’t believe it the rest of the day. When you two got Chinese food in China town, or when you walked out onto time square you still couldn’t believe that you were now engaged. 

And a dark part of you thought for sure that when the two of you landed back home, things were going to be hard. But when you thought about that, and you looked at Mingyu all you could think was that every difficult moment would be worth it right by Mingyu’s side. And so in the end you didn’t really mind. 

-

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[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter one ⭐︎ Waiting Room

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of death and injuries, mention of physical assault (physical fight), head injuries, mention of bruises and scars, mention of Eddie's almost death. pining. allusions to unrequited love. enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort. lots and lots of tension. slow burn. also, instead of writing summaries, I will name each chapter after a song that fits the vibe of each chapter. Also, mentioning this again, her nickname has nothing to do with her hair color.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Author's note: @hellfire--cult you know I will mention you in every chapter, so don't even try to fight me. Thanks for coming up with all these ideas with me mwah! — This is only the beginning, guys. This story will progress into something much more intense after chapter four or five, I can’t wait to share this one with you and get into the good and spicy stuff hehe!

Read the prologue first!

series masterlist ⭐︎ next chapter

♡

Your body was aching and everything inside of you was screaming at you to not open your eyes just yet, you felt as though you were being dragged out of it. All your limbs were hurting, your skin aching, your head was pounding. You could not begin to describe the pain even if you tried, it was unlike anything you had felt before. Your memory was lost, at least that’s what it felt like for the first few seconds. 

Then they started coming back slowly. 

From the gate in the water, to Steve being pulled under.

From the bats trying to bite chunks of his skin to you doing everything in your power to save him. 

From the creepy old Creel house, to Max offering herself as the bait. 

As pictures of her flashed in your mind, you suddenly started to register the smell – the disinfectant, the disgusting smell of hospital. You heard the beeping of the machines next to you, and you felt the wires attached to your body. 

You tried to press your lips together, though tears burned in your eyes when the crack in your lip stung. 

You moved your hand as you slowly opened your eyes to bright lights shining into the room you were in. You squinted them, trying to adjust to the light and the vision in front of you, it took you a moment, everything was still so blurry. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see a mop of dark curls. You slowly moved your head to the left side, restraining a groan when you felt a flash of pain in your head. You blinked a few times, taking in the sight of a bruised and battered Eddie, who was looking down at his rings, twisting and playing with them nervously. 

“Eddie?” You said and only then you felt how dry your throat had felt, how raspy your voice had sounded and how much it was aching. 

You did not notice the movement on your right side.

He straightened up as he lifted his head so suddenly, eyes wide as he looked into yours. Relief flashed his face and a smile appeared on his lips.

“Oh thank god.. Hi sweetheart.. slept well?” 

You stared at him for a good long minute, trying to figure out what had happened to him. By the developing scars on his face and the white bandage around his neck, you had an idea of what had gotten to him. 

Was he on the brink of death just like you had been? 

By the look in his eyes, you could tell that he was. 

“Huh… I’m not dead?” 

He shook his head, eyes filled with relief, “gladly no.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, “well, shucks,” you sighed, like you didn’t fight for your life back at the Creel house. 

Eddie sighed but chuckled, understanding your dark humor better than anyone else – despite only knowing you for a few days. 

A cough finally fell from your lips when you tried to sit up, though losing the strength to, you fell back again.

Eddie instantly reached for the water bottle on the table next to you, pouring some into the plastic cup before he carefully placed it into your hand, trying not to touch the bruises on your knuckles. 

You thanked him with a small smile before you lifted the cup to your lips with shaky hands. 

“Careful,” Eddie whispered as he watched you.

You nodded and closed your eyes as you took a sip of the water, welcoming the feeling of the coldness in your dry throat, you took a few sips before you handed him back the cup. 

“How long was I out?”

The sigh from your right side startled you a little, with furrowed brows, you turned to look only to be caught off guard. 

Steve Harrington.

With his arms crossed, he stood by the window, staring at you with an unreadable look on his face. He took you in, eyes glaring at the wounds on your skin. 

“You had to have surgery. There–... There was a deep concussion in your head and a vessel popped. If they didn’t do it quickly you..” He could not bring himself to finish that sentence, he clenched his jaw and looked down at his hands. 

Your heart fluttered at the sight of him. 

Even in this current state, you could not help but smirk cheekily, though it dropped the moment it appeared when you suddenly could feel all the bruises on your face. Your eyes watered and a wince fell from your lips. 

Steve lifted his head at the sound. 

And Eddie straightened up. 

“Don’t move your face too much, sweets.. It’s…” He stopped as he felt anger and sadness hit him all at once. 

He did not want to tell you how bad it really was – how your skin was bruised, how puffy your eyes were. 

You closed your eyes again and laid your head back. 

“Ah, he got me good, didn’t he?” 

Steve swallowed harshly. 

He pushed away the pain from seeing you like this and cleared his throat. He licked his lips and leaned closer. 

“Yeah, but you got him better.” 

You frowned at his words, not quite understanding. 

Eddie glared at him, not knowing how you would take the news so soon. 

“Huh?”

Steve ignored the look in Eddie’s eyes, he kept his on you. 

“Jason’s dead. He fell onto broken wood… that impaled him.”

Oh. 

Flashes of the night came in a blur. 

The fight. 

His rough hands as he hit you, over and over again, as he held you down and wrapped his merciless fingers around your throat, aiming for the kill. 

You felt your heart beating a little faster at the memory, how scared you were when he pointed a gun at Lucas before you stepped in between them, knowing that he could have shot you, right then and there. How much it hurt when he sliced your cheek open with the stupid ring on his finger as he delivered the first punch, how close to death you were when he choked you. You saw the look in his eyes, the rage, as he called you a traitor for protecting ‘the killer’ of your friend. Tears of frustration and anger fell from your eyes when you almost lost the fight – Lucas’s screams as he called out to Max urged you to fight back, and you did, you used every last bit of your strength to throw him off of you and pushed him away. 

Pushed him into his death. 

You do not feel bad. – Max could have died because of him. He would have killed Lucas. He wanted to kill you. 

“Good,” you murmured as you blinked the tears away that formed in your eyes again, “he was going to kill the kids.. He had a gun.. He had a gun, Steve.”

It was almost weird to hear you call him by his name. 

He instantly rushed to your side and reached for your hand, something that neither of you would ever think back to again. 

“Yeah, and you saved them. Listen, you can’t talk much, you need to heal, Blondie.”

Right. The ache in your neck was not from the lack of water, it was from the bruises, from almost being strangled to death.

“Everything else is being taken care of,” he said as he squeezed your hand. 

You ignored the feeling in your chest and turned to look at Eddie. 

“And you?” 

“Well, you are looking at a free man! A free man that was targeted by Victor Creel himself after he got out of Pennhurst. I trespassed into his home many times and he had a vendetta against me or some shit.”

You felt relief rushing through you. 

Though, you saw the hurt behind his eyes, knowing he had to lie about seeing Creel killing Chrissy. 

He did not want to put the blame on somebody else, he knew what it had felt like to be accused of something he hadn’t done – but there was no other option, he had no choice, he wasn’t given one. People of power had told him what to do. In return, he got his name cleared and had been given a good amount of money for ‘the troubles’. Money that he could live off from for the rest of his life.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Eddie.” 

He smiled at your words, nodding. 

“What happened to you?” 

He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Steve. 

“He played hero when he shouldn’t have.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes at him. 

Hero. There wasn’t only one hero that night. 

Almost in panic, you straightened up. 

“Where’s Max?” 

Steve put his hand on yours again, giving it a pat as he tried to calm you down, though all he gave you was shivers running down your spine from his touch. 

“Healing. He broke one arm and one leg, but she is awake. Robin is with her, she’s been waiting for you to wake up.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, the weight in your shoulders fell just like that. You felt like crying, but you wouldn’t do it here, in front of them. 

“And everyone else?”

You took in the sight of him, properly this time. 

There were dark circles beneath his eyes, tiredness in his face.

You didn’t know what prompted you to do this, maybe it was the high anesthetic in your system or a spur of the moment – but you lifted your hand, reached out to him to graze your fingertips against his neck, on the mark where the tail of a demobat almost strangled him. 

He did not pull away, but he stared at you with wide eyes, blushing at your action.  

“I-I’m fine.. Everyone else is too,” he said and cleared his throat. 

A scoff on your left pulled you back and you removed your hand from Steve’s neck to look over at Eddie. 

“Speak for yourself, I have like forty stitches all over my body.”

How he managed to joke about that while he was still in so much pain? You did not know. But then again, you were just the same. 

He spared you the details when he began to talk about what happened in the upside down. Steve did not want to revive the story again, seemingly not handling the thought of his new friend dying so cruelly. He left and told you that he’d come back later. 

As Eddie was telling you about the swarm of bats, you felt the pain in your chest, just like when you had found out about Chrissy, just like when you had found out about him. 

Eddie was a new addition to your life, you two are barely even friends, though you do not know how you would handle the news of him not making it. 

“I’m happy you’re here.”

Eddie’s eyes softened, though a smirk tugged at his lips. 

“Going soft on me now, sweets?” He chuckled, surprised to hear such words from you. “Or are you still on drugs? Where’s the little ol’ meanie, I kinda liked her.” 

A pained chuckle fell from your lips. 

“She’ll be back in no time, don’t you worry.”

Your laughter died down when you thought of the way he looked at you. 

Judging by all the pain you were still feeling, you knew that you looked awful. 

“How bad do I look? Be honest, please.”

Eddie shook his head with a pained look on his face. He looked down for a moment. His eyes flashed with anger and sadness. 

“Bad, sweetheart. When we found out that Jason did this to you.. We wanted to revive him only to kill him again,” he said angrily. “Steve wanted to rip his corpse apart, that’s what Robin told me.”

For a moment, you felt cheerful and your eyes had softened. 

For a moment you had thought that he cared. 

But Eddie quickly pulled you back into reality after shattering that illusion. 

“He saw what he did to Lucas, it’s not as bad as you but.. fuck. He was going to kill Max too.”

Steve was angry at Jason because of the teens, not because of what he did to you, never because of you. He wouldn’t have cared if you bleed out on the ground in the Creel house. He wouldn’t have cared if you died. 

You focused on Eddie, on the anger in his features – it made your eyes soften, knowing that you found another friend, one that you should probably protect from the curse that you are. 

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I can walk now..”

You frown, tilting your head at him before you look down at yourself. 

“How long have I been out?” You asked when you realized that Steve had never answered your question. 

“You’ve been out for a whole week, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened, you dug your hands into the mattress and pushed yourself up. 

“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie raised his hands as he tried to stop you from sitting up. 

“W-What, oh my god, my sister must be worried!” 

He put his hand on your arm, gently – you had noticed it before, how careful he had been to touch you, like he was afraid of hurting you, like you were something fragile. 

“Yeah, about that–” He never got to finish his sentence as the door burst open and your sister stormed inside the room. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of her, not because you were surprised or confused to see her here, but because it’s been two months since you had last seen her. Besides the concerned look on her face, she was glowing – maybe it was the pregnancy or maybe it was just the fact that she has been much happier since leaving Hawkins behind. 

“Hi hi, honey! Are you okay?” 

That day she had the same concern in her voice as she does now while she talks your ear off about how important it is to go to all your checkups at the Hospital. She is calling every day, just to remind you – and to check on you. 

You are fine. Just fine. 

You survived an attack, you survived surgery, you survived. You made a good recovery and you are getting better each day. Besides, Eddie and Max are on your back about the check-ups just as much, you have no choice but to go to them. 

You’re holding the telephone between your ear and your shoulder as you finish touching up your make up, applying some gloss to your lips before you pick up the brush one more time and carefully go through your hair, trying not to hurt yourself, your head starts hurting at every slightest touch and it’s beginning to frustrate you. 

“I’m telling you, this baby is going to be a little runner.” 

“Is she still kicking?” 

Your sister huffs before she laughs, “she is kicking all the time, sis.”

You smile as you take the telephone and walk towards your window, leaning against the wall as you wait for the Impala to pull up in your driveway. 

“I can’t wait to meet her. I never held a baby before.”

“Well, you’re about to – give it a few more weeks and you’ll turn into an auntie in no time.”

“I am already an auntie,” you chuckle. “How could you forget little Luna? She was your first child.” 

You remember how devastated you were when she took the black cat with her as she moved out of your parents house and left the town, for good. You begged her to leave the cat with you, put on your best puppy face but she wouldn’t have it, it was her cat, after all. 

“Right, sorry sorry.” She laughs. 

You hear rustling in the back and a moment later, a loud crunch sounds through the phone. You don’t have to ask to know what she’s eating. Chips. She is always eating salted chips, now even more so than before. 

“What are you doing today?” She asks with a mouthful. 

Looking down at your outfit, you place your palm on your new denim shorts before you slide your fingers into the pocket. 

“I’m going to a barbecue in a few,” you say. “Max basically forced me to come.”

“Wait, you’re not driving yourself, are you?”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as a huff falls from your lips. 

You’re not allowed to drive, not yet. Your vision gets blurry sometimes, and you get light headed very easily. Your doctor said that it would pass, but it’s been two weeks since you had been released from the hospital and it hasn’t passed yet. 

Jason truly did a number on you. 

“No, don’t worry. My friends would kill me if I even tried–”

“Don’t say that word,” she cuts you off with a stern voice. “But I agree with them.”

You snort. 

“Anyways, Eddie is picking me up.”

Silence follows for a good thirty seconds before she continues eating her chips. You can practically hear her thoughts, you already know what she’s about to say next. 

“Eddie. He was the cute one with the long hair, right?” She asks, innocently. “The one who brought you chocolate and magazines?” 

Rolling your eyes at her teasing voice, you push yourself away from the wall when you see the black Impala pulling up to your house. 

“Don’t even,” you sigh, scrunching up your face in annoyance. 

She has been waiting, waiting for years for you to finally have a crush on someone, to fall in love, go on dates and get a boyfriend. 

Though, unlike her, you weren’t exactly popular – maybe it was your own fault, but that’s beside the point. Your sister loved having crushes and going on dates. She loved falling in love. 

You? Not so much. 

Love has only brought you pain. 

And you never cared much for dating – not even for fun. You don’t mind being on your own, loving someone from afar and in secret, for probably the rest of your life. 

“What’s wrong with him? Isn’t he super sweet?” She asks. “He brought you chocolate, sat by your side and you seem to like him–”

“Yeah, as a friend.” 

“Oh,” she sighs, humming. “Yeah, you never liked the nice guys, did you?” 

She got you there. Well, kind of. He is nice. He is nice to everyone, but to you. 

“What about the other guy then? What was his name again… Steve?” 

Just the mention of his name has shivers running down your spine, your heart fluttering and your skin crawling in tingles. 

You feel your cheeks glowing but you roll your eyes at the stupid giddiness that you feel, everytime you think of him.

“Mhmm, Steve.” 

“Huh.” You could practically hear the smirk in her voice. “What about him?”

If she only knew. 

Eddie honks the car horn, giving you the perfect excuse to hang up the phone. You walk back to your dresser, putting the phone down. 

“Anyways, I love you, sis. But a very hungry Eddie is waiting for me in the driveway.”

You know that he is hungry, he is always hungry, always eating away all the snacks and stealing leftover fries from everyone’s plates, no matter how much he had eaten already.

“Have fun with uh Steve! Love you, mwah, bye!”

You roll your eyes once again as you hang up the phone. 

Steve and Fun in one sentence just doesn’t sound right. That guy would rather stay miserable for the rest of his life than even try to have fun with you. 

He can’t stand you. 

And well, you can’t stand him either. – At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself, all while knowing that it’s very much a lie, but how else would you stay sane?

You quickly make your way down the stairs, reaching for your keys and your sunglasses on the way out. You skip down the porch steps. You tap the hood of his car before you get into the passenger seat. 

Eddie is already grinning at you, waving his fingers at you. 

“Hey sexy.” 

His brows shoot up and a smirk tugs at his lips. He playfully eyes you up and down. 

You close the door and sit back, greeting him with a mocking smirk. 

“Hello to you too, sweets,” he says in a low and deep voice – one that almost has you laughing. 

“Oh, I wasn’t greeting you,” you say, nonchalantly. “I was talking to Arwen,” you gesture to his beloved, new car, that he of course named after a Lord of the rings character. 

“But, hi Eddie.”

A loud laugh leaves his lips, his brown eyes twinkle with amusement. He grabs the gearstick, shaking his head at you. 

“You ready for some heavy metal heaven?” 

You put on your sunglasses and fasten the seatbelt after he points at you with a stern look on his face. 

“Sure,” you snort, knowing that the drive to the Sinclair house will be anything but uneventful. When Eddie isn’t singing and bobbing his head to the music, he’s shouting over it, telling you a story that he can’t wait to get off his chest. 

Your friendship with him is something you didn’t see coming. You tried to push him away, knowing how your friendships with people you care about usually end, but he wouldn’t have it. He kept coming back, just like Robin, just like the teens. 

You don’t understand why. 

What’s there about you that they want you around so bad? 

You’re never in a happy mood, you’re never entertaining, you don’t bring anything into the friend group. You don’t get along with most people – by most people you only mean Steve Harrington. 

You wonder if it’s because you almost died and they’d feel guilty to exclude you after helping them or if Max forces them to accept you into a friend group you never even wanted to be part of. 

“How’s your head doing?” Eddie asks as he drives on Maple Street. 

“Good, s’not hurting anymore.” You lie. 

He knows. 

Eddie sees the way you react to bright lights, the way you scrunch up your nose a little whenever the sun shines into your eyes or the way you rest your hand against the nearest wall when you seem to get dizzy. 

“When’s your next check-up?” 

He sounds just as concerned as your sister does, it makes you laugh a little. 

Who would have thought that Eddie could be so caring? 

“Tomorrow, 3pm.”

“Want me to drive you?”

You shake your head, “no, it’s fine. I’ll take the bus.”

He scoffs, shooting you a glare as he pulls up into the driveway, parking his car behind the burgundy BMW. 

“You think I’ll let you take the bus? I’ll drive you and then we’ll get burgers.” 

You unbuckle your seatbelt, chuckling as you turn to him, “okay, dad.” 

“Shut up,” he grumbles at you with a glare. 

Laughing at the look on his face, you get out of the car and make your way over to the house. Eddie bumps his shoulder into yours, tilting his head down, he looks at your heart shaped sunglasses. 

“Where’d you get these?” He asks, pointing at them. 

“Macy’s, why? You want some too?” 

“What if I do?” He asks, ringing the doorbell. 

“Then we’ll get you some pink ones.” 

A smirk tugs at his lips, “hell yeah.” 

Robin opens the door with an excited smile on her face, grinning when she sees you. 

“Hi!” She beams at you. “Come on in.” She steps aside, lifting her arm as she waits for you both to step inside. 

You walk in first, and as you do, Robin pulls you into a hug, greeting you once more. 

“Hey,” you mumble as you slowly lift your arms to hug her back. 

Eddie chuckles at the confused frown on your face, he follows inside and closes the door. 

“C’mon, Steve is already bitching about you two being late.” 

And just like that, your heart jumps a little. You hate yourself a little in these moments. 

Pushing your sunglasses up on your head, you and Eddie follow her out into the garden. 

You can hear the music outside, laughter and Steve’s stern voice as he scolds Dustin, as always. The smell of smoke lingers in the air and as you step outside, you catch sight of Steve, standing behind the grill, with one hand on his hip and the other pointing at Dustin with the grill tong. 

His hair is messy, a spit curl falling before his eyes. He is wearing his black sunglasses, green khaki pants, a gray tank top,– oh god. This is going to be a long day. 

You swallow as you tear your eyes away from him, looking around with squinted eyes, the sun is harsh and you instantly put your sunglasses back on.

“Are the Sinclair’s around?” You ask, meaning Lucas’s and Erica’s parents. 

Robin shakes her head, “no, they’re out in Indianapolis until tomorrow, Steve is probably gonna stay the night.”

You nod. 

You hear your name being called and you turn to your right to see Lucas waving at you with a smile on his face. He is sitting on the lounger Max is laying on, still with casts on her leg and her arm. She pushes herself up on her elbows, looking in your direction, a smile appears on her face and she greets you just as kindly as her boyfriend did. 

Robin leaves your side, walking towards Dustin who plays with his new, portable Stereo. 

As you pass by Steve, he turns around to greet Eddie with a smile and you with nothing more than a nod and low grumble, “Blondie.” 

Whenever he seems moody or pissed off, you feel the urge to make it even worse. And you do, every single time. 

You walk around him and look at the meat on the grill, whining.

“I don’t eat meat.”

He turns to you, eyes growing wide at your words. He didn’t know. And he already feels guilty for not asking you first. He pushes his sunglasses up into his hair as an apologetic look crosses his face. 

“Fuck… I-I didn’t know–” he stops when he notices the smug look on your face and hears Eddie chuckle over his shoulder. 

He should’ve known. 

With a groan, he rolls his eyes and pushes his sunglasses back down as he turns back to the grill. 

“Hey Eddie!” Dustin calls out to him, already grinning at Steve. “Check this out!” 

“Don’t you dare, Dustin–” Robin gets cut off by a scream as it blasts from the stereo. She smacks him lightly on his head, yelling at him to turn it off. 

Eddie laughs loudly, leaving yours and Steve’s side. 

“Jesus christ,” Steve mumbles, scrunching his face up at the music. “That shrimp has been doing that all day. Eddie really is a bad influence.” 

“Aw, poor Steve,” you pout at him, “are you mad that you can’t listen to Madonna?” 

He scoffs at you, though he doesn’t say anything and focuses on the sizzling burgers as he turns them over. 

You press your lips together, ignoring the tugging in your chest or the feeling in your stomach as you use his distraction to look at him. 

It’s only nearing the end of April, but it already feels like the beginning of summer. Steve’s skin is already sun kissed. You hide your eyes behind your sunglasses as you ogle him. Taking in the sight of his veiny hands, his arms that have just the perfect amount of muscle, his chest hair that you always tease him for, the silver chain around his neck. 

You swallow. 

Cursing inwardly when you feel your stomach fluttering. 

He turns to face you again, totally catching you and your staring. 

Fuck. 

“Like what you see?” He smirks down at you. 

You bite the inside of your cheeks, trying not to blush under his gaze. 

He is feeling smug. Not because he likes you staring at him, but because he’s been waiting for a moment to embarrass you with something. 

He expects you to stutter, to step back and answer his question with a shaky and squeaky voice, because that is what he must be used to, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You take a step closer to him, biting your lip as you eye him up and down. 

You can tell that it catches him off guard a little, but unlike you, he isn’t blushing. 

“Yeah, actually,” you whisper and put your hand on his shoulder as you lean closer to the small table where he left his coke. You wrap your hand around the can, it’s cold against your palm and you hum in satisfaction as you raise it up to your lips, taking a sip of his drink. “Mmmh, perfect.” 

You turn around, and walk away without another word, leaving him huffing and glaring at you. 

You fail to notice or feel his eyes on you, the way they rake down your body, the way he licks his lips before he forces his eyes away from you. 

You greet Lucas and Max properly, hugging the latter before you take a seat on the lounger next to her, choosing the one that is half in the shadow, so you can hide your face from the sun. 

You easily fall into a conversation with the teens. You had always been close with Max, even before you were dragged into all of this. 

Being friends with her, also brought Lucas into your life. Unlike Dustin, who is always somehow trying to get on your nerves by teasing you with crushes that don’t exist or annoying you like a younger brother would do, Lucas is always very kind. 

“I can’t wait for you to get your car back.” 

Chuckling at Lucas’s words, you take off your sunglasses and put them down beside you. 

“Why’s that?” 

“So you can drive us around again,” he shrugs as he flashes you a smile. 

“Are Steve and Eddie not good enough for you?” You snort. 

Max scoffs loudly, rolling her eyes as she turns to you. 

“Steve is always whining about something!” 

“Yeah, and Eddie drives like a maniac,” Lucas groans, throwing his hands up. 

Max purses her lips, looking down at her cast. 

“Yeah, like your girlfriend,” you laugh, glancing at Lucas. “I wonder who will teach her how to drive properly.” 

“First of all, I don’t drive like a maniac,” says Max. “Second, why don’t you teach me how to drive?” 

You raise your brows at her, shaking your head, “sorry girl, but I am not a good teacher.” 

“But you’re like a big sister to me, you’re supposed to teach me,” she teases, though she looks at you with her best puppy eyes. “Besides, we can take Billy’s car.”

Shaking your head at her, you lay your head back and close your eyes, “don’t even try, Max. We’ll both end up in a ditch, we barely made it out last time.” 

She snorts at your words while Lucas looks between the two of you with disapproval on his face. 

“I’m starting to think that neither of you should ever drive again.” 

“I actually agree with you,” Robin chimes in as she joins the three of you. “I’ve heard of Max’s driving skills and uh… you lady,” she points at you, moving your legs to the side as she takes a seat on your lounder, “are danger in person.” 

“Me?” You gasp, putting your hand on your chest. 

“Yeah, you!” 

Steve watches you from afar, ignoring the heavy metal music and the curly heads behind him, who are going crazy over a song he just can’t find a liking to. 

He watches you – the way you crack a smile and shake your head with an amused look on your face. 

He watches you talk to the teens and to his best friend, easily falling into conversations. He rarely sees you like this – smiling and carefree. You’re usually always tense, annoyed and wearing a permanent frown on your face. Mostly around him. 

Steve will never know what it’s like to have a normal conversation with you, to see you smiling at him, not in a teasing way, in a real way. He is not sure if he ever even saw a real smile on your face – not even the one you are wearing now is real. 

But, why does he even care? You two have never gotten along, you hated each other, at first glance. 

With a sigh, he turns off the grill. He carries the tray filled with food over to where everyone is sitting, motioning for Eddie and Dustin to follow. 

Steve walks past you, not paying attention to how close he is to you, he accidentally bumps you in the head with the corner of the tray. He doesn’t even notice that he did – not until, you duck your head down and raise your hand to touch the side of your head. 

Max snaps her head up at him with a glare on her face. Lucas freezes when he sees how angry she is. 

He looks down at you, to see you looking up at him already. 

“I’m sorry..” He murmurs. 

You don’t speak, instead you look up at him with big eyes and a pained look on your face. 

“Oh come on, I barely even touched you,” he says, nervously. 

Eddie and Robin glance at each other, confused and worried. 

He rolls his eyes at you, knowing that this is another one of your little games that you always play, whenever you get bored. 

“Are you fucking with me again?”

Max shoots out of her seat, almost falling over due to the cast on her leg, her cheeks grow red in anger as her eyes burn into Steve. 

“Her head! You hit her head, you stupid idiot!” She points at him with rage in her voice. 

Steve’s eyes widen as deep guilt rushes through him, he instantly drops the tray on the table before he crouches down in front of you, shakily laying his palm on your shoulder as Max continues to curse at him. 

He wasn’t thinking. He didn’t think of that. 

“S-Shit,” he mumbles, looking at you apologetically. 

How could he forget? The doctor told you how sensitive you would be at every slightest touch to your head, how every slightest bump could cause nausea, dizziness or even a migraine. He was there, he heard him say it loud and clearly, yet he forgot.

Only now does he notice the hurt in your eyes as you place your palm over your ear – your ear that is ringing, for a moment it feels as though you’ve been pulled under water, and still you hear Max yelling at Steve. 

It’s not his fault, it was an accident. 

“Max! It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t do it on purpose! J-Just fuck…” You curse at the pain, not even recognizing your own voice for a moment. Who would’ve thought that you would be this sensitive? You feel his hand on your shoulder, maybe it eases the pain a little, or maybe it’s just the comfort that you feel from only his touch. 

“I-I’m gonna get you some ice,” Steve mumbles and rushes into the house, with Eddie following close behind. 

He throws his sunglasses on the counter and huffs in frustration as he tugs at his hair. He opens the freezer and gets an ice pack out. 

“Steve–”

“Fuck, Eddie. I didn’t know, I thought she was fucking with me again,” he stammers, wrapping the icepack into a cloth. “She always does this a-and I wasn’t thinking of the fucking injury.”

Steve is cursing at himself and at Jason who caused all of this, who did this to you. 

Eddie takes a step closer to him, placing his hand on his shoulder, trying to calm his friend down. 

“Steve,” he sighs but he won’t look at him. “You didn’t know, i-it’s just a migraine, nothing else–”

“Nothing else?” Steve scoffs, frowning at Eddie. 

How could this be nothing else? He caused you pain with the slightest touch, something that reminded you of what you had been through, only a few weeks back. And he might have just triggered even more than a migraine, he might have triggered some thoughts to come back that you tried to not think of. 

He rushes back out to you. 

When you see him, you are already reaching for the ice pack, waving your hand at him to give it to you but he pulls it back, not handing it to you. 

You huff in annoyance, looking at him in disbelief. 

Max is standing with a hand on her hip, extending her arm as well as she glares at him in annoyance. 

Lucas and Dustin glance at each other, like they are afraid to move or even say anything as they quietly eat their food. 

“Lego head, give me the ice pack–”

He startles you a little by sitting down right behind you, “where do I press?” He asks. 

You’re taken aback by his words and his action, you’re taken aback by his touch. 

“Huh?”

“Where do I press the ice pack?” He asks again, breathing down your neck. 

You glance up at Max, she raises her eyebrows at you. Normally, she is the one who helps you, sometimes it’s Eddie or Robin, but Steve? Steve never helped you. 

She eyes Steve and the look in his eyes, the guilt and the pain from hurting someone when normally, he tries to do everything in his power to protect people, even the ones that he doesn’t like. 

With a sigh, she slowly sits down. 

Despite the pain that is pulsating in your head, you feel shivers running down your spine when Steve moves your hair to the side, his fingertips grazing your skin. 

“Where?”

“I uh–... here,” you mumble, quietly as you point to the spot where it hurts the most. 

“Okay,” he whispers and scoots even closer to you, he presses the ice pack against the back of your head. 

You sigh and relax a little, closing your eyes as you welcome the coldness. 

Your heart flutters in your chest when he presses his free hand on your shoulder, touching you gently. 

“Max, you should eat something,” Robin says, trying to smile at the angry teen. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna heal faster if you eat a burger,” Eddie grins, trying to ease the tension as he hands her the plate. 

“A burger will help me heal, really?” She scrunches her face up but grabs the plate, nonetheless. 

“Yeah, actually. It’ll give you some of the strength back,” Dustin winks at her before he takes a bite of his burger. 

She snorts, shaking her head at them. 

You listen to your friends chatter as you keep your eyes closed. Tilting your head to the side, you lean back slightly, – wishing you could just lean into him. You can sense how tense he is, you are almost certain that you can hear his thoughts, how he is cursing at himself for this, for hurting someone – even if it’s just you. 

“Stop stressing about it, Harrington. It’s nothing,” you sigh, trying to ease some of his tension. 

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “You and Eddie, I swear if you keep saying this is nothing..” He huffs in frustration. 

Not only does he hate all of this – he also hates the feeling of your soft skin beneath his touch, the smell of your perfume, the smell of your body wash that he is close enough to smell – and fuck, does it smell good, good enough to make his stomach feel all weird again. 

You try to chuckle, though he can tell that it’s pained. 

“What, you worried about me, Lego head? Thought I didn’t affect your life at all?” You ask smugly, as though it’s a joke to you. 

Your words feel like a punch to his gut, even though he was the one who said these words to you, it hurts for some reason, because maybe, these words aren’t true in the slightest. 

You might not be someone important to him, you might not be special to him. 

Yet it doesn’t change the feeling he had felt in his gut when he found out that you were on the brink of death, that night. When he saw you in the hospital room hours after your surgery, how lost and empty he had felt when he saw the state you were in. How he sat beside you for hours before the nurses finally kicked him out and told him to go home and rest. 

He clenches his jaw.

“Yes, I’m worried,” he huffs. “So shut up because you will make it worse, Blondie.” He says with full expectation to hear some smartass comment back from you. 

But you stay quiet, fully quiet. 

You open your eyes and you look down at your hands in sadness. 

You wish he didn’t say that to you. You wish he kept the hate comments instead, that he left you with the idea of hating you completely, not showing an ounce of worry towards you. Because this is ruining you. The act of kindness is completely destroying you, and he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t feel it either. 

You really are hopeless. 

>> next chapter

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington enemies to lovers #stranger things angst

[neochan]

FAULT LINE (M) - TEASER

PAIRING. ex!haechan x reader

GENRE. exes to lovers, toxic relationship, smut, plot of sorts, street racer au (barely)

WARNINGS. toxicity, smut mentions

WC. teaser is 1.1k

A. NOTE. so i needed a break from the pick me chronicles and stumbled across this type of hyuck characterization!

"where the fuck are you at?"

blearily blinking, you take a look around. when did you step outside? you think as hard as you can, but nothings coming too. you're drunk. very drunk.

people littered the front of the club - some waiting on ubers, others making out. but you - why were you out here? where were your friends?

"y/n. tell me where the fuck you are."

oh shit.

the phone pressed to your ear brings you back into a sort of semi-focus. you faintly remember crying to a random stranger in the bathroom about your recent break up. the poor girl had reassured you that everything would be okay, but you barely recall pushing her aside and mumbling something about calling your ex to make up.

that was until you had caught the attention of a guy at the bar and ended up doing green tea shots with him.

oh.

oh shit.

okay yeah, every memory was bombarding you now.

if the the still sticky cum dribbling down your thighs didn't serve as a reminder, than the memory of him pressing your hips against the porcelain sink while he fucked into you should have.

"y/n?"

and then you stepped outside to call your ex because. . . you felt bad? yeah you felt bad.

his voice was becoming more impatient with each passing silent second.

"hy-uck?" you hiccup.

he sighs, "god, i thought you passed out or something."

he didn't sound mad. had you already told him what you did? you can't remember.

"hyuck." the whimper trembles from your lips, "i need you."

"i know, that's why you called me." he seems to be fumbling around with something on his end, the muffled strain of his voice giving it away. "baby, where are you? i called you earlier but you didn't hit me back."

tears start to well in your eyes as you press against the brick wall of the club.

"i went out dancing and i did something bad. i-i'm sorry." your words are slurring together and it's becoming harder to breathe. "i didn't mean to, he- he just. . ." your voice trails off in a whisper.

"he? who the fuck are you with?" the jangle of keys sounds on the other line, a few seconds later accompanied by the slam of haechans front door. his temper is rising. he knows he should calm down. shit, he's probably scaring you bad right now, but the thought of you with another guy? you broke up two days ago. why the fuck would you be with another guy.

"i fucked up, hyuck."

"this isn't a game. send me your fucking address." the purr of his car engine rumbles through the phone.

shakily, you take the phone from your ear and send him your location.

"i'll be there in five." another sigh on his end... "if i see whoever this guy is, i'm not sure i'd be able to stop myself from killing him."

you hiccup, "yeah, i know."

four minutes and thirty eight seconds later a black ford shelby GT500 screeches to a halt against the curb.

through blurry eyes, you watch as grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt approach your slouched figure. his jaw is set, eyebrows drawn up - yet you feel nothing but relief.

"jesus, how much did you fucking drink?" he scoops you up in his arms to help you stand despite your wobbly frame. the earth is swimming in your frame with each step you take, but being pressed against his lean body grounds you. so does the cologne doting his chest - so familiar and warm, you press your nose into his t-shirt.

"you smell good." you hum.

"thanks." he peers down at you with a curiosity you don't notice. maybe the breakup affected you way more than he thought because he's never seen you this fucked up. "theres a curb right here, be careful."

deep in your muddled brain, you want to kiss him and thank him for coming to get you - for actually being worried about you for once.

but you don't.

instead, you climb into the rich leather interior of his car and settle back. it stings, being back in a place you once felt so comfortable in. tears pinprick the corner of your eyes for a quick second, but you blink them away. you just let hyuck reach across your chest and buckle you in.

"hyuck i'm sorry."

his gaze fall to yours, millions of emotions lurking deep in those luminous doe eyes. you look nearly innocent and he felt bad.

he swears underneath his breath, "your guilty conscious is gonna be the death of me."

a shaky hand reaches out to touch his cheek. a familiar gesture you can't yet get rid of - not when he's three inches away from you. "hyuck-"

"fuck this." he pulls back and cards a hand through his hair. "what were you doing with another guy?"

"we- we were doing shots and -"

"how many." he breathes.

"a couple? i don't know, maybe. . . maybe three?"

a forced huff leaves his chest, "three shots with a fucking stranger?"

"hyuck, i said i'm sorry-" your hands twist regrettably in your lap.

"yeah yeah, and then what?" he's leaning against the passenger doorframe, leg bouncing right next to you.

"and then he took me into the bathroom and we fucked."

a few seconds of silence. you try to face him. you can't. why did everything have to be so complicated.

"you fucked another guy but called me to come get you?" he sneers. he has to have lost all respect for you. there's no way he hasn't.

"i'm sorr-"

"i get it. you're sorry." he pushes off the doorframe and starts to pace. "what's his name?"

the lump in your throat grows when you realize you never caught his name. "i don't know."

"you don't know? so you fucked a complete stranger?" a laugh rips from his throat, "this is unbelievable."

"can we just go? please."

he ignores your question and presses you further, "what does he look like?"

"hyuck no. please, can we go."

each word is punctuated by the grit in his teeth. "what does he fucking look like."

it was futile to argue with hyuck when he got this way. he was gonna find out who this guy was either way.

"pink hair, silver button down, black pants, expensive watch. probably drinking green tea shots." the details of the night might have been distorted, but you could have picked out this handsome stranger in a line up.

"stay right here. i'll be back."

"no! hyu-" your cry is cut off by the slam of your door. anxiously, you watch his lithe figure move past the bouncer and into the club. a sinking feeling falls in the pit of your stomach.

what the fuck did you do.

ANOTHER NOTE. is this worth continuing? let me know if it is :)

#haechan smut #haechan x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #nct haechan smut #nct haechan x reader #hyuck x reader #hyuck smut #nct dream fic

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

12 — IN SOME SAD WAY, I ALREADY KNOW

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

“A written statement from the General himself.”

You mindlessly nod, eyes unfocused and ears ringing as you sit at the conference table, Laswell at the head with the paper in hand. Her brows are furrowed, and one of her hands rests at her hip as she reads over the paper’s contents once more.

Everything feels numb. Like your entire body’s been reset, and nothing makes sense – as if your very existence has been muffled.

Price and Ghost sit at the table, too, sharing looks with each other. The Sergeants are out training rookies – and a small, minute part of you is grateful. You don’t want them to see you so…

Whatever you are. Numb, cold, unfeeling. Any adjective that fits.

“Shepherd traded her,” Price seethes, knuckles whitening on the tight grip he has around his pack of cigars. 

“But why?” Laswell asks, exasperated, pacing at the front of the conference room. The overhead beams have been left off, so the frosted window is the only source of light. It allows a soft, gentle glow from the moon to fill the room, and it helps with your racing mind.

“We need to find him,” Ghost demands, voice gruff and icy. Thinly veiled anger – you recognise the tone all too well. 

“This gives us evidence to push the search further,” Laswell cuts in, her footfalls pausing as she searches the scrawled handwriting for something. “And it opens up a new trail. Why did Graves want you? And what did Shepherd deem worthy of trading his star soldier?”

Your leg’s bouncing, the soft tap tap tap of your foot against the linoleum floor sounding more like a ticking time bomb than anything.

When you look up from the table, your eyes instantly clash with a pair of dark brown. Ghost.

He’s watching you – something hidden behind his gaze that you can’t unpack. Not now, at least, with your mind racing at a million thoughts per hour. With your body feeling as sensitive as a live wire. Every breath feels manual, a feat in and of itself.

You break your eye contact with him suddenly, weary, looking to the window instead. The moon isn’t so complicated; doesn’t hold so many layers of darkness, both in colour and soul.

There’s nothing like the feeling of moonlight against your skin, the brush of nightly breezes against your chilled skin.

“Sweetheart –” Your attention instantly goes to Price, whose hands are clasped on the table, gaze heavy where it sits on you, “Do you know anything at all that could help us. Any leads.”

You go to open your mouth, but everything feels wrong, your stomach sinking and hands trembling and vision going blurry.

Without any thought, or reason, you abruptly stand, slightly shaky on your feet. You swallow, once, a difficult movement against your barren throat. Scratchy and harsh.

“I – I’m sorry, I need a moment,” you manage to mutter out, taking a step back in a shadow of defence.

Brows furrow, a question’s asked – you don’t hear, don’t see, because all you can do is turn and bolt out of the room, shouldering the door open and heading down the hospital light-white corridor, the white burning your vision.

Your eyes sting with unshed tears, your chest heaving, the echoing sound of your boots against the floor a distant soundtrack.

“Fuck,” you mutter, palms coming up to rub harshly at your face as you slow, unsure. You just need space, a moment to yourself, a place to break apart with no one as your witness.

A slightly ajar closet to your left seems like your best bet.

Heading for it, you push in, the stale scent of cleaning products hitting your nose. It’s difficult to find any part of you that cares in the slightest.

The door closes, and you just stand, for a moment, your head resting against the wood. Every breath rattles your bones, like your core is falling apart at its seams. Another breath. Two more.

Except it’s getting harder, with every breath, to fill your lungs. They come out harried, shallow and not unlike slices of a knife against your windpipe. They tear from your mouth like coughs.

Your back hits the wall, and you slide down, until you’re sat on the floor, head sat between your bent knees as the first tears finally fall down your cheeks. Hiccups leave your chapped lips, and you squeeze your eyes shut as your shoulders shake.

You haven’t allowed yourself to break down like this in... Gods, you can’t even remember. All you know is that it hurts, at your very core, but it’s also kind of freeing.

It’s as if your world is closing in around you; your breaths doing nothing to quell that intense sense of suffocation, cruel in the grasp your fear has around your throat. Nothing makes sense – everything hurts, your tears leave lines of heat down your cheeks –

The door creaks open.

Heart stuttering in your chest, you look up from your balled up frame with blurry vision, to see who your intruder is. Did Gaz or Soap leave the rookies early? Did Price or Laswell get worried and come check on you?

“Sweetheart.”

The tall, threatening frame of the man fills out the small crack of the door in a way that has your breath catching for a whole other reason.

“Ghost?” You find yourself asking, your voice threatening a whine with the state you’re in. 

He steps in, the scent of blood and some cologne filling the space as he does. You wipe at your bloodshot eyes, curling in closer.

“If you want to kill me, this is probably your best bet,” you bite, posturing, an attempt of goading so your image isn’t completely ruined. The idea isn’t completely unfound, either – he very well could pull out his gun and shoot you clean through the head.

He shakes his head, closing the door – allowing pitch black to envelop you both.

“You’re too cheeky for your own good,” he mutters, and despite all of your notions of the man, he slides into a sitting position next to you.

If you could stabilise your breaths, you would, if for no other fact than your own embarrassment. Your body still trembles, and small hiccups still leave your lips with every shaky breath.

His presence is warm against yours, and when he moves, the fabric of his uniform brushes against your own.

“Why are you here?” You find yourself asking, a whisper under your breath. Just loud enough for him to hear, for him to hear the fragile undertone. The risk you’re taking, sitting beside him in this state. 

He looses a breath – easy, soft. Unlike everything you know about the hulking man. “I understand.”

You can’t help the uneasy chuckle that leaves your lips. “You understand? Mister been-conspiring-against-me-since-day-one?”

“I understand what it’s like to have the weight of the world on your shoulders, with no one you trust there to hold you, too.”

You look to him, but in the darkness, it’s more of an instinctual act than anything. 

“Didn’t realise you were a poet, Lieutenant,” you chide, voice breaking slightly around the syllables. He doesn’t comment; a small mercy.

He shrugs, brushing against you as he does. “Not a poet. Just a soldier.”

“And an asshole,” you hum, and you can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes you when he elbows you in the dip of your waist. You elbow him back, unthinkingly, freely.

Silence fills in the gaps, except for the background noise of your shaky, tight breathing, and the bounce of your knees.

That is, until the man beside you breaks it.

“I asked my dog what two minus two is,” Ghost says, easily. You loosen your posture, just slightly, brows furrowed when you turn your head towards him once more.

“What are you on about?” You ask, incredulous. He shrugs. Nods.

“I asked my dog what two minus two is,” he continues, despite the confusion that is surely emanating off of you. “She said nothing.”

You let out a shocked, lost bark of a laugh at that, turning your body around so you’re facing him in the enclosed space. “Was that a dad joke?”

“I found out why my dog’s such a bad dancer,” Ghost starts once more, continuing despite your elongated groan. Seems to relish in your dismay.

“And why’s that?” You entertain him, despite the anxiety in your gut, the words left unsaid burning your tongue.

“She’s got two left feet.”

You heave a sigh, shaking your head – but the corners of your lips pull into a cheesy grin, and your breaths are lighter. Easier, natural, less harsh against your dry throat. “Do you even have a dog?” You ask.

“Her name’s Riley. She’s my family,” he says, earnestly, and your heart shatters just a bit more.

“What breed is she?”

“German Shepherd. Used to work in the military, till a mission gone wrong left her too scared to work in the field. Saved ‘er from the pound.”

How can this man be the same one who threatened your life? Who – who had made it very clear how little he trusted you, and was generally such a jerk? A complete asshole, of whom you had no qualms hating?

“She’d like you,” he adds, and you blink, “Always did like girls more than guys. Strong ones, at that.”

“You think I’m strong?”

You can tell he rolls his eyes, even without being able to see it. “I’ll bring ‘er in, when this is all said and done.”

“When this is all said and done, we’ll probably never see each other again. Small mercies, hey?” Your tone takes on a joking lilt.

He doesn’t laugh.

And it hits you, then. How fragile this very situation is. How unimportant, in the real scheme of things, your relationship with the 141 is. When Graves and Shepherd have been dealt with, where do you fit in? What purpose will you have?

You don’t, can’t, truly fit in with them. They’re already so interconnected, memories spent together that you’ll never understand, connections you have no place in joining.

Oh, what a stab in the gut that is.

“I can get Johnny or Kyle if you want,” Ghost offers, but you find yourself answering just this side of too soon.

“No.”

You realise, as you sit here beside him, that he is all you need. Soap and Gaz would’ve tried to ramble or make a move on you, Price would’ve tried to embrace you. Ghost just sits, and waits, his presence speaking a thousand words. He’s your anchor, right now.

“What does a bee use to brush its hair?” Ghost breaks the quiet, once more, his words steady and grating with the low timbre of his voice.

You exhale, but go along with it anyways. “I haven’t a clue.”

“A honeycomb.”

You scoff, but the smile on your face doesn’t waver – your cheeks hurting from the way it tugs on the muscles of your tired face. “That was awful, Lt.”

“Johnny laughed at that one,” he replies, head tilted to rest his skull against the wall. His arms rest on the bends of his knees.

“That’s cause he feels bad for you,” you hum, satisfaction weighing on your words.

Ghost elbows you once more, a bit too hard, but you find the movement grounding more than harmful. Like a way for your body to come back to itself, and register the world around you. No need for self-destruction or derealisation.

“They really like you, y’know,” he murmurs, and your breath pauses in your chest. “The Sergeants. Won’t shut up about you when you’re gone.”

“Well, if you’re gonna hate me, some support is nice,” you retort, and he huffs a low breath. Pauses, like he’s thinking something over. Weighing the risk and reward of his next statement.

“I don’t,” he rolls his tongue in his mouth, “I don’t hate you.”

“You’ve had me fooled,” you retort, the cool wall against your cheek a steady reminder of the world. “The whole threatening to kill me thing, and all.”

“If it means protecting Johnny, Kyle – even Price, I’d do it. Still will,” he says, the last statement bordering on a warning. “If you’ve somehow fooled us all, then I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.”

You swallow. Scratch at the skin of your wrist.

“I just need to figure this shit out,” you admit, looking to the roof for answers. “Once Shadow Company’s been taken down, and Shepherd’s dealt with, everything can go back to normal. This’ll just be a blip in time.”

“The Sergeants aren’t going to let you go,” Ghost warns, an edge to his words. “What are you gonna do, anyways? Live in the countryside?”

“I don’t know,” you confess, picking at your fingernails. “I’ll figure it out when it comes to it. We’ve got bigger things on our plate.”

With his shoulder pressed against your own, you let your body relax, your breaths finally even. No tears on the verge of falling down your cheeks – and no fear lacing your veins with a thick coat of adrenaline.

However, that short-lived relief is quickly replaced with the all too familiar crash.

Your head pounds, and your limbs suddenly feel heavy. Your eyelids threaten to close, even though you don’t feel the need to sleep.

“Tired?” Ghost asks, low and soft, careful not to startle you. So at odds with the idea you had of him.

Without meaning to, you lean further against him, using his frame to hold your own up. He doesn’t comment on it. “I’m – just need a minute,” you murmur.

His hand moves to rest at the side of your head, pulling you in so your temple rests against his shoulder. It’s warm, comforting – a parallel to the man of which you thought you hated.

Rest comes easy, at the side of one of the men who wants to kill you.

*

When you come to, it’s with the feeling of fingers brushing through your hair, and the scent of cajun.

The gentle mid-morning light filters into the room, casting light through your closed eyes, the faraway sound of bullets being fired an odd comfort. Soft sizzling, too, can be heard, as well as the chopping of a knife against a board.

“That smells bloody divine, Si,” a familiar, Scottish voice calls, quietened by what you can only suspect is due to your ‘sleeping’. “Ya’d be a bonnie housewife.”

“Watch it, Johnny,” Ghost replies, stern, even with the undercurrent of humour in his voice. 

The fingers in your hair continue to card through your strands, pausing to massage at your scalp every now and then. The movements have you melting further into Soap’s lap.

“Ken the other two are goin’ at it?” Johnny chides, and even without vision, you can see the goading smile on his face.

“I ken you should shut your face,” Ghost retorts, the sound of chopping finally coming to a pause. “And, no, you’re a bloody idiot.”

“Rude.”

Fluttering your eyes open, you let out a small huff of air, stretching your tense muscles. They feel sore with lethargy, and stiff from the position you fell asleep in.

“Mornin’, Sweetheart,” Johnny smirks, looking down at where your head sits in his lap.

When you look towards the kitchen, it's to find Ghost, flipper in hand as he stands by the stove, a glass bowl filled with salad to his side. One thing in particular has you looking twice.

“A bit promiscuous, don't you think, Lieutenant?”

Ghost's eyes narrow, but Soap lets out a pleased chuckle. “Like a lad seein’ an ankle, aye?”

Instead of gloves, the pale skin of his hands is shown for the first time, patterns of ink decorating the back of his hands. The small hint of a sleeve has you desperate to see the full thing.

“You're both fuckin’ ridiculous,” Ghost scoffs, starting to swap the contents of the pan into the salad bowl.

As you move to sit up, Soap’s hands fall to your waist, pulling you so your back presses against his chest. His thumbs trace circles into the skin where your shirt rides up, but it’s more out of instinct than anything else.

“What’d you make us?” You ask, rubbing at your weary, sleepy eyes as you deflate against Soap.

“Cajun chicken ‘nd salad,” Ghost quips, serving up a plate for each of you. It smells nothing short of delicious, and you sit up straighter against the Sergeant.

“Lt and Gaz are our personal chefs,” Soap chimes, squeezing you tighter against him. “Bloody perfect at it.”

Ghost rolls his eyes, but comes over with two plates, setting them on the coffee table in front of both you and Soap. It’s a small space, next to the personal kitchen, but it’s nice. Intimate.

The first mouthful of salad is like heaven on your tongue, and you look up at Ghost with wide eyes as you swallow. “This is amazing.”

“You’d better eat it all then,” he jerks his chin towards your plate, grabbing his own before sitting on the chair to your left. Soap, still with his chest to your back, shovels his food into his mouth like a man starved.

It’s quiet, for a few moments, just the three of you enjoying your food.

“What’s the next step?” Johnny asks, around a mouthful. You elbow him in the side, and he feigns hurt. He swallows, before continuing, “Aye mean, what’re we gonna do? What lead do we follow?”

“I think,” you work your jaw around the words, thinking, “I think if we get to the root, we can bring down the whole tree.”

You scan the two men, and it’s Ghost who understands your words first.

“Shepherd. You think we should take him out first,” Ghost leans back in his seat, studying you with calculating, chocolate brown eyes. They shine in the midday light.

Nodding, you swallow around some lettuce, before continuing, looking between the two. 

“If we can find Shepherd, and learn why everything’s happened the way it has,” you rub at your face, “Then we can bring it all crumbling down. Like dominoes.”

“He’s MIA,” Soap furrows his brows, placing his empty plate on the coffee table. “We’ve tried finding the twat – he’s gone.”

You shrug, a plan forming in your mind like the final pieces of a puzzle connecting. A small, pleased smile spreads on your lips, before you’re moving off of the couch, ready to head to Price’s office.

“Where’s you going?” Ghost queries, leaning forward, elbows resting on his spread knees.

You tilt your head.

“Power in numbers, right?” Heading for the corridor, you open the door, before turning back to look at the two men one more time.

“I know two soldiers who’ve been waiting for a call.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee @simp-sentral @littlecellist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @browtfyoudoing @oreo-cream @fanngirl19 @infpt-zylith @marispunk @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @xvintageghostx @thigh-o-saur

#🤍 : forever winter #⌨️ : love's writing #cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod x reader #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #mw2 #soap cod #tf141 #tf141 x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #price x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #gaz garrick #cod #kyle garrick #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #soap x ghost #soapghost #call of duty x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #cod smut #simon riley x reader

[dcxdpdabbles]

Could you do more cave boy Danny please? I really wanna see what you have in mind for the direction you want the prompt to take 👻

The first thing that registers for Danny is the flouting feeling that he often relates to flying. To him, it always felt like being in the water, perfectly balanced with his arms and legs spread out, letting himself be weightless and left up instead of fighting gravity.

He allows himself to be taken by the sensation. It's not often he can fly just for enjoyment, especially in recent months. The Waynes were far too observant.

It is only when he tries to move into a more comfortable position that he notices the restraint.

Unlike in the water, he does not move slightly up and down with waves so he knows he's not flying in his ghost form. There is nothing that ever hinders him, even if slightly.

This is a different sense of flying.

It's caused by medication.

Danny's eyes snap open, fearing men in white suits, and instead gets a teenager in black and red-leaning his head into his hands. There are no restraints or a containment pod, instead, there are soft warm blankets and a large bed.

There are beeps from machines and a tube inside his arm, tapped to the top of his elbow. He's not sure what is in it but he hopes it to help with his pain and not to....see what his DNA is made of or something.

Thoughts are....hard right now. Like trying to grasp sand but it only slips through his fingers. He is aware but not. Did someone steal his brain? He is usually a much better thinker.

"Brucie!" The red and black teenager grasps, throwing his head up. Danny squints at him, wondering if his black wings are alright. They didn't explain or even react to his movement.

Danny should contact Frostbite. His Yeti can fix up those right up.

"It's a cape" The other laughs but his voice is soft with sadness. Danny squints at him trying to pinpoint why he would be so sad. It might be because he hasn't shifted into a butterfly yet.

"I'm not a butterfly." The other laughs a little more amused.

Danny's eyes widened. Was the teenager a mind reader? That's a scary thought. What if he learned all of Danny's secrets?

"Brucie....who's Danny?"

Nah, Danny wasn't risking it. He was going back to sleep. He had to escape into his dreams that way they would be just as confused by them as he was. He chuckles to himself, knowing that they won't know what to do against the giant green dog that guarded his dreams.

"Goodnight Brucie. Enjoy your green dog"

________________________________________________

Hours later Danny wakes up again but this time he is much more lucid. He glances around the room, eyes flickering over the machine and wires attached to him with little care.

He can recognize the room the Waynes gave him with ease. Everything from the posters he had put up in an attempt to look like an average teenager- even if he did only put up posters of Batman and his crew- to the random nick-nacks he left behind in his escape.

It was a bit bare from when he took everything but it's still the room he called home for a while.

How in the world did he get back to Wayne Manor?

Danny needs to get out now.

Standing up on uneasy legs, he rips out the wires as fast as he can, uncaring of the loud alarms that ring the moment he does. He rushes for the door, vision blurry, having to force all of his will into getting one step and then another.

Danny is forced to take small pauses every now and then because his body simply can't handle moving too fast. His legs shake from the effort it takes to keep him up right but he pushes through anyway.

It's only when he manages to get to the door that he remembers his powers. Danny flexes his abs into a clench that he had come to associate with activating his powers. For a brief second, twin rings of light appear, but they only move z few centimeters before flickering out of sight.

It feels like all his energy fades with with.

Panting, he slides to the floor, his limbs feeling like lead and his head swimming with fog. His head falls to the side slightly, but he can see that the door is right in front of him.

Danny tries to reach for it but all that does is cause him to tumble over. There is a dull ache on his chin and chest, as he lays there on the ground breathing heavily, and small black dots start to appear in his vision.

He is likely going to pass out soon from his core's backlash. Danny can't afford that. Not until he's safely away from the Manor and back in his cave.

How in the world did he even get out of his cave? How did he end up here?

All questions he'll have to answer later.

Planting his forearms before himself and pushing one leg slightly to the side, Danny lifts himself up. He lets his legs relax, making sure they don't drag behind him, as he shifts one arm forward and then another, crawling towards the door in the army crawl his mom should him.

He makes it to the door in what feels like hours but is probably seconds. His hands reach upward to launch onto the door handle with all his strength. to heave it open.

There is a moment of pure unadulterated joy that he was able to get this far when Danny encounters a slight problem. There is a force field right inside the doorway.

He figures this out when he slams into an invisible wall. A startled yelp is ripped from his throat as he stumbles back, blinking owlishly at the flickering force field light that gleams and ripples mockingly at him.

For half a second, he thinks that one of his siblings had pranked him by putting up plastic wrap to have him walk into it.

Except for the man in a brown trench coat who is staring down at him with an open mouth.

"Brucie!" Bruce shouts pushing the stranger out of the way to kneel down. "What happened?"

"He activated my wares to keep out spirits....or in this case keep them in?" Trench coat is staring at Danny with a strange expression. It seems like a cross between intrigued and weary. "What are you?"

"I already told you, this is my counterpart from a different universe," Bruce says helping Danny into a sitting position. "We confirmed it the first night he was here. Both DNA and our multi-universal tests came back positive."

"Batty, I highly doubt you have the technology to test for dimension travelers-"

"I do. I used it on every Flash I have ever come across, every time I see them."

"......I know I call you batty but honestly Batty that's alarming."

Danny's eyes flicker between them before he activates his intangibility. It's an ability that doesn't require his full form, however just as he's starting to slip through Bruce's fingers his legs slam against a similar field just a few inches from the floor.

His knees pop loudly and Danny screeches.

"Brucie!"

"Yeah, I wouldn't do that. My wards are all around us. I put them up after finding your cave drenched in otherworld energy. Figured I was protecting you not capturing you."

Danny's yanks his legs up, trying to crawl away from the man. Bruce throws an arm in front of him and Danny foolishly presses himself into the older man's back, trying to shield away from the very alarmingly competent Ghost Hunter.

"You leave him alone. He is not a threat. He is just a civilian boy who happens to be a meta" Bruce's voice is low and dangerous. Danny has never heard him speak like that, even while dressed as Batman.

"Batty, whatever that is, it is certainly not a civilian let alone a boy. The amount of will it took just to keep my wards up by him hitting against them by accident is nothing to sneeze at." Trench Coat insists, pulling out a stone with a strange marking on it. Danny squints at the symbols and then gasps when he recognizes them.

ᛙᛁ⸜⸍ˎ⸜ᛍ╵╮ˎ◟ᛍ╵

It's Fenton Works spelled out in runes, medieval runes to be exact. Danny knows because Jazz and he had a bonding phase where they translated the family name and business. They would carve the symbols into hundreds of wood plates, to bond with their aunt.

"Yeah, even the Witch Boy flinched at this seal." The man smirks, holding out the plat as if he were warding off a spirit. Danny cowers more behind Bruce."You have no idea what I had to trade to get this"

"What the hell are you doing?" Tim's voice cuts through the tension. He is standing in the doorway, arms crossed and face dark. Behind him are the rest of the Waynes. None of them are looking friendly.

"Constantine." Bruce growls. "You are on thin ice. Backdown. Now".

"Not to be disrespectful Batty, but that thing is-"

"His name is Bruce Wayne, You will do well to remember it. " Damian cuts in. The blond man holding- his own carving?- tilts his head.

"But that's not your name is it?" He asks Danny, who swallows. He presses closer to Bruce and watches the Waynes slowly circle Constantine. It's obvious they are about to jump him and Danny-

Danny realized that he may have tried to run but that obviously wasn't going to work. He couldn't hide either, because they found him.

He needed to come clean.

"Wait." He says, his voice stilling the room in a way that only those with complete control. He scoots to the right leaving Bruce's protection. "Wait. He's right. I'm not Bruce Wayne. My name is Danny Fenton. I've been lying to you all. I'm sorry."

"Fenton?" Constantine repeats confused but he doesn't get to continue because Bruce pulls him back behind him.

"You aren't lying. We knew you had a different name, you're still my counterpart."

What.

"Yeah Danny, we kind of knew from day one that you were a version of Bruce even if it was under a different name" Dick laughs. "You told Tim your real name a few days ago as well as your universe coordinates. We already confirmed its location and Tim is working on a ship for you."

What

"We knew. You Bruce." Cass says looking right at Danny. "We since the day we found you."

That's....not right at all.

"No. I'm Danny Fenton. I'm not a version of Bruce. I can prove it!" He shouts, throwing his hand on Bruce's back. He makes his core glow, knowing no two people could ever have the same one unless they are variants of timelines.

That's why Dani's core won't glow with him but Dan will.

Constantine nods his head "A core glow test. That will prove that you aren't Bruce and are something that's pretending to be him. Claiming to be part of the King's family is also a bold claim."

"Look ma I never claim to be part of some King's family I only-"

Twin blue and green glows burst from Danny's and Bruce's chest and Danny's words die on his tongue. Constantine drops his hand in shock.

"See? You are Brucie!" Dick laughs as if he hadn't just shattered Danny's entire world viewpoint. He could only gape at the group of people before Bruce placed a hand on his head.

"I'm sorry. If I had known you knew where your world was located we would have gotten you home to your parents weeks ago. You must have been so scared. Don't worry. We'll have you home soon."

Again and with great feeling, he will say what!?

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #cave boy #part 9 #Danny was actaully Bruce all along #Constantine sweating bullets that he threaten the King's family with the King #They found him and he was unconsious for days #Tim is building him a ship as a appology

[fangirl-writes]

And It’s a Goddamn Tragedy

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader; John B. Routledge x Sister!Reader

Warning(s): guns, gunshot wound, blood, hospital. Angst.

Notes: Could be in the same universe as my Nightmares imagine but can be read on its own as it makes no references to that fic. Also I have never been shot, but I did do a little research on the feeling, however most of the reaction is purely fictional.

Summary: JJ and John B. know their lives are a tragedy, but goddamnit, why do you have to pay the price?

The gun let out a loud bang as it fired, everything falling into slow motion. Engulfing your senses with nothing but a high pitched ringing and the slow movement of the gun in Rafe’s hand.

You saw a sharp look of regret pass over Rafe’s features before being swallowed by seriousness again. And then you could feel something wet start to blossom on your t-shirt.

Your face paled as you turned to the pogues, feeling the heat rushing from your face, mouth open but no sound coming out.

You could see the horror in their eyes, see John B. and JJ’s mouths moving, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was like there was cotton in your ears, and the ringing persisted, louder with every second.

You felt yourself start to become lightheaded, the world starting to become blurry.

Feeling sick, you dropped to your knees, everything still slow and disorienting until your body hit JJ’s.

“Hey, hey, Y/N, come on, stay awake," he said,

It was an overload on your head, everything rushing back to full speed quickly, and instead of pain, there was a burning, aggravating sensation in your stomach area, growing outward from where the bullet struck you. Intense and hot.

John B. was next to you in a second, holding your head with one hand and pressing his other against your wound. “Listen to JJ, Y/N, stay awake.”

You let out a loud cry, the burn overwhelming and tears swelling in your eyes.

Pope, Kiara, and Sarah stood above you, shouting incomprehensible things you couldn’t focus on.

“Hospital, John B, we’ve got to get her to a hospital!”

Hospital? Would you make it to a hospital?

Your brother peeled off his button up, wrapping it around your middle to try to stop the bleeding.

“Call 911!”

God, you couldn’t afford an ambulance. Just put you in the Twinkie and let you go. John B. would get over the blood stains. Like that thing had never been bled on before.

“Fuck it! JJ carry her to the van, I’ll drive.”

You felt your body move, being lifted into JJ’s arms. You looked up at his face, it was the only thing in focus. He looked worried, scared even.

“Hold on, Y/N, we’re gonna get you there. You’ll be okay," he said.

You smiled lightly. If you didn’t feel like passing out, you might’ve kissed him. That always calmed him down.

Pope threw open the door of the van, and JJ hopped in, sitting down and cradling you carefully in his arms.

Sarah was next to you then, pulling off her tank top and pressing it hard against your stomach.

You let out a cry and JJ looked like he was going to murder her.

“What are you doing!”

“Trying to put pressure on it! John B.’s shirt isn’t going to hold it enough.”

You groaned, not feeling up to arguing with anyone, just dropping your head into JJ’s shoulder and letting Sarah press against your wound.

Pope and Kiara jumped in last, barely getting the door shut before John B. was speeding down the road toward the hospital.

JJ kept whispering reassurances. You weren’t sure if they were for you or him. Maybe both.

You could hear the loud honking of horns as John B. tore through town.

Your eyes fluttered closed.

“No, no, no, Y/N, you have to stay awake. Open your eyes,” JJ urged.

You let out a soft whine. All you wanted was to sleep and let the pain go away.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. “We’re almost there, okay? Almost there.”

Before long, the vans door was being thrown open again and you were jolted around as JJ ran into the hospital, John B. close on his heels.

“Help! Help, she’s been shot!”

Your body was laid down on a gurney and the staff started rolling you away.

Your hand slipped out of JJ’s as a nurse stopped him from coming along. The pain and sorrow in his eyes were the last of him you saw.

“Y/N?” One of the nurses above you said. “Can you hear me?”

“Y-yes…” you said before your eyes closed, relieving you from enduring the pain any longer.

JJ watched with tears rolling down his cheeks as you were carted away from him.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up. We’ll let you know what’s happening as it happens, okay?”

JJ nodded once, but didn’t take his eyes off of you until you passed through a set of doors and he couldn’t see you anymore.

He let himself look down at his body. His hands and shirt were covered in your blood and he felt sick to his stomach.

Pope gripped his shoulder, snapping him out of his daze and ushering him to a bathroom.

John B. and JJ entered the hospital restroom, walking to separate sinks and washing the blood off their hands.

JJ couldn’t quite fathom what happened yet. It started to settle in as he watched the water turn crimson.

He looked over at John B. who was doing the same as him, his stare harsh and unmoving as he washed his hands.

There was a swipe of blood on his cheek.

Suddenly, his best friend choked out a sob. He gripped the side of the sink and cried.

“I can’t lose her too.” John B. said through tears. “I can’t lose her too.”

JJ moved over to him, wrapping him in a hug that was quickly reciprocated. 

“She’s gonna be okay, man,” he whispered into John B.’s shoulder. “She’s gotta be. She wouldn’t let punk ass Rafe be the one to do her in.”

John B. let out a watery laugh, squeezing him tighter.

Neither boy moved to break away from the hug, the both of them needing the comfort for a little longer. 

“Why’s she always the one that gets hurt because we’re stupid?” John B. asked, quietly. “Why’s she gotta pay the price?”

“I don’t know...” JJ replied, just as quiet.

It was true that you always seemed to be the one getting hurt.

When JJ stole money from Barry, you were the one who got the shotgun pointed at your head. When John B. was spiraling from the loss of their dad, you were the one who picked up the pieces. When Topper almost drowned John B., you were the one who tackled Topper before JJ got the gun out.

You were the one left alone after John B. and Sarah got lost in the storm. 

And now, you were the one that got shot with the bullet meant for John B.

Well, that’s what he assumed anyway. Why would Rafe want to shoot anyone but him?

“Hey, she’s out of surgery,” Pope said, opening the bathroom door where JJ and John B. were smoking a joint by the window. 

“Fucking finally,” JJ said, putting the blunt out on the windowsill. 

The doctor was talking with Kiara and Sarah when the boys approached.

“She’s stable. And lucky,” the doctor said. “We’ve got her on an IV and will prescribe her some pain medication once she’s discharged, but we’d like to keep her overnight.”

“I’ll stay with her,” John B. and JJ said at the same time.

The doctor chuckled. “I think there’s room for both of you, though you should think about shifts so you kids can leave to clean up and get some sleep.”

Both boys knew they wouldn’t be leaving her side all night.

“Someone will let you know when she’s awake.”

With that, the doctor left the group alone. 

“You guys really should go shower and change,” Sarah said.

“Nah, no way I’m leaving,” JJ said. “What if she wakes up and I’m not here?”

“She probably won’t be up for a bit,” Pope said. “Most people wake up thirty minutes after the anesthesia.”

“Regardless, I’m not leaving.” John B. said. “This is my fault and I’m not leaving her again.”

“I never left her,” JJ said, crossing his arms.

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” John B. replied, face contorting angrily.

"Hey!" Kiara said, getting in between the two. "Not the time nor the place. You can both stay if you're going to asses about it."

They let it go, backing off and biting their tongues.

"Keys." Kiara said, holding out her hand.

John B. reluctantly dropped them into her palm.

"We'll be back. Text us if she wakes up before then and don't fight."

Dropping into chairs on opposite sides of the waiting room, JJ and John B. watched as the others left and waited for any news.

John B. was doing anything he could to distract himself and was failing miserably.

Nothing on his phone could hold his thoughts and none of the magazines on the table were even worth looking at.

So, he looked at JJ.

JJ's knee was bouncing, nervous. He didn't even look at his phone to pass the time, just stared at a spot on the floor.

John B. thought back to when Sarah got shot and he thought he was going to lose her. That was pain like he'd never felt and he could see by JJ's seemingly emotionless expression that he was feeling that same feeling.

John B. loved his sister. Y/N was the only family he had left, and he'd be lost without her. But the pain of potentially losing someone you love so deeply and so romantically was different.

It was hard for him to wrap his head around at first. That his best friend and his sister were together.

But they were good for each other. They understood each other on a level he never could.

Sometimes, he thinks that makes him a bad friend, a bad brother. But when JJ looks at Y/N like she hangs the moon, he knows he’s just being silly. Because Y/N looks at JJ like she’s never looked at anyone.

Because they’re in love.

"Y/N Routledge?"

John B. and JJ jumped up immediately. "Yes?"

The nurse gestured for them to follow her, and they didn't hesitate.

JJ's heart pounded as they followed. He was almost impatient in his movements; like his feet weren't going fast enough.

He just wanted to see her. To know she was okay.

The nurse pushed open the door, entering the room first. "Y/N? You've got some visitors here."

And then there you are.

You look exhausted, eyes drooping, skin pale. There's an IV in your wrist, and a hospital gown had replaced your bloody clothes.

"Hey, guys," you said, voice scratchy.

"Oh, honey, let me get you some water," the nurse said, putting down her clipboard and leaving the room.

John B. got out his phone to text the other pogues while JJ went to your side immediately.

He sat on the bed next to you, taking your hand.

"Hey, baby," you said, softly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

JJ relished in the contact, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Tired," you replied. "But I'm okay."

John B. pocketed his phone and went to your other side. "Hey, butterfly."

You smiled at him. "Hey, birdie."

And suddenly, the tears are back. "I'm so- so sorry."

"Hey, it's not your fault," you said.

John B. didn't reply, just hugged you tightly.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," you whispered, hugging your brother with one hand, squeezing JJ's with the other.

The nurse came back in then and the boys seperate from you so she could give you the water.

"Just hit your call button if you need anything," she said with a smile.

"Thank you," you replied, nodding.

The door closed behind her and the tone in the room shifted slightly.

"I'm gonna make that asshole pay for this," JJ said, the sadness now replaced with anger.

"No, you're not," you say firmly. "If either of you land in jail again, don't think we're bailing you out."

JJ made a noise of protest, but you just glared at him and he shut up.

"We're moving past this, okay? It happened, it's over, I'm alive. We're not letting this lead to more trouble, alright?"

The boys just mumbled agreements, not entirely satisfied by your requirements, but understanding of them all the same.

You'd been through too much for them to break your heart again.

The other pogues came in not long after that, smuggling in your favorite chocolate bar and a change of clothes for both JJ and John B., who took turns showering in the hospital bathroom.

Kiara took the liberty of brushing your hair out and braiding it as much as its length would allow.

Sarah was the one who spoke with the doctor, getting insurance and payment figured out as well as what pain meds they were prescribing you.

Pope took to being a buffer between your boys, making sure they didn't spring into another argument or try anything stupid while you rested.

As if JJ would have moved from your bedside by anything except force.

John B., now knowing you were safe and alive, was more relaxed, speaking in low voices with Sarah about your condition.

The nurse was kind enough to allow them all to stay the rest of the day, but once visiting hours ended and the sun went down she had to ask them all to leave.

"Only relatives are allowed to stay overnight."

JJ deflated at this, squeezing your hand tightly.

"Can he stay?" You asked. "He's my husband."

A bold lie on your part, considering you were in a hospital.

"Fiance, she means," John B. chimed in.

The Routledge siblings in tandem as always.

The nurse seems skeptical but considering you'd just come out of surgery as a result of being shot, she cut you some slack.

"Sure. But just you two."

They thanked her repeatedly but she just waved a hand. "I'll be back in a moment to set you up for overnight."

You said a quick goodbye to the other pogues, getting a hug from each and a kiss on the cheek from Sarah.

"We'll be back in the morning with breakfast."

"Ooh, hashbrown patty?" you asked.

"I think we can swing that," Kiara replied with a smile. "See you tomorrow."

The nurse came back shortly after to change your IV and check your blood pressure, temperature, and pulse. She also brought you a warm blanket and helped you into a pair of pajamas after changing your bandages.

After that she left you a cup of water and the name of the nurse that would be taking over her shift.

And that was that.

JJ wasted no time climbing into bed with you after she was gone, allowing you to curl into him, careful not to brush your bandages.

John B. settled himself into a couple of chairs for the night and closed his eyes.

"You sure you're all right?" he heard JJ whisper.

"I'm good, J, I promise," you replied.

"JB and I kind of had a cry session about you, ya know."

"Really?"

"Yeah, cause we love you and shit."

You laughed quietly. "Well, I'm glad you weren't tearing each other apart again."

"We almost did, but Kie stopped us before we could get started."

"Good. I don't think either of you would've been allowed in here if you'd've brawled in the waiting room."

John B. smiled softly.

"You're probably right," JJ said.

John B. peaked an eye open. You and JJ were facing each other, lying down. You were playing with JJ's fingers, eyes fluttering as sleep threatened to overtake you once again.

"Sleep, pretty girl, it's okay," JJ said, adusting himself so that you could lean against his shoulder.

"Okay..."

John B. closed his eye again, allowing himself to find his own sleep.

Safety may not be their strong suit, but for what they lacked they made up for in love.

And nobody loved you more than JJ and John B.

#outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x routledge!reader

[jxsterr]

hey. what if link was so consumed by grief he was angry. cuz a tired link is brilliant, a riddled-with-illness-and-depressed link is even better, but what about a link that is so sick of all of this happening to both zelda and him that he's just FURIOUS.

like he's angry as fuck at how, despite everything they have done to protect hyrule, they're right back where they started. all that effort they put into sealing the calamity, those a hundred years link spent asleep just to be able to live again and those a hundred years zelda spent tearing herself apart just to hold that beast back, all for it to be for nothing. all that effort to dispel the ganon from their time only for ganondorf to appear from another time. it's borderline comical. link has to laugh or he'll cry. he's so tired of this constant fight but he's only tired for himself, when it comes to thinking about how much zelda has suffered and continues to suffer it conjures anger so vivid he feels it in his chest. he's so angry at how much the world continues to punish someone who has done nothing to deserve it, someone who has given her all for the people of this world and more and yet she cannot even feel the grace of peace for longer than a few years. she of all people deserves a break more than anything and he finds himself wishing he'd fallen instead of her.

link finds it hard to process or even care about the goings on in lookout landing after he finally wakes up (again). purah is babbling in his ear about something to do with increasing monster attacks but it's impossible to remain present when his mind is so torn up over zelda, his zelda. gods. she really is gone, isn't she? he doesn't know where she is, doesn't know if she's still breathing, or if he'll ever see those emerald eyes again. it's so much harder this time because last time he didn't even know her—at least not as much as he knows her now. her face was blurry back then and her voice was something so familiar yet so distant, but now he loves her. he knows her inside out, knows her favourite tea to drink in the early mornings and what books she'll pull from the bookcase based on her mood. the sun died that day and so has a part of him.

the air beside him feels so thick with emptiness that he finds himself getting lost in helping the local folks just to fill it, taking up a few errands and joining in with the monster control forces just for someone by his side. weeks pass since her fall and link finds himself stuck in the anger phase of grief. it feels like a disease, he doesn't like how angry he feels but goddess he can't stop feeling this way. it's just so fucking unfair. more often than not link finds himself venturing out of lookout landing deep in the night just to kill. not defeat, not vanquish, but to draw blood in a feeble attempt to quench the burning rage inside his soul. he tears his pathetic excuse of a sword mercilessly through the flesh of unsuspecting bokoblins, slices through the tendons of gloom hands and unleashes the full extent of his fury onto the phantoms of ganondorf's shrivelled form. he yells as he plummets the tip of his sword through the phantom's chest until it disperses into thin wisps of gloom, but it's still not enough. it's never going to be enough. he repeats the same useless task every night yet it does nothing to change anything. he's still angry.

purah's told him about the phenomenas pestering the four corners of hyrule but he can't bring himself to focus on the world just yet, so he goes to mount lanayru. he's waist deep in frozen water with hands clasped around one another when he begins his plea to the goddess. he asks her why zelda was served a fate as cruel as this, and why he seems forever cursed to walk hyrule alone. she doesn't answer. it irritates link, so he repeats himself louder. she still doesn't answer. he's yelling at her now, using the full extent of vocal cords that have barely moved since he awoke, and driving his fists through the spring water in an act of overwhelming frustration. answer me! tell me why we have to endure this! he cries, but the goddess is evermore silent. he chokes out a sob, and then, in a moment of fury, unleashes words undeserving of anyone to hear, not even ganondorf himself. he needs something that will just sit there and take it and right now he's beginning to understand the frustration zelda felt all those years ago when all her efforts went under appreciated. he decides this act is some sort of revenge for how the goddess has ignored them, even if it really isn't her fault; he just needs to feel like he's done anything of use when he's been rendered so powerless. his bitterness only continues to grow the longer she ignores him, until he's exhausted himself from the outburst and stands in the water until his limbs go numb. pathetically quiet, he curses the goddess.

when link learns of zelda's fate after the final tear, he goes missing for weeks. the only noticeable trace of him in the world is the sudden lack of monsters in some areas of hyrule, namely the lynels. the tears had acted as a sort of comfort to know that at least wherever zelda was, she was able to find some sort of comfort or happiness there. the memory of zelda and sonia made him cry hysterically afterwards, of course she still finds a way to speak of him even when they're separated by a millennia or more—but the final tear makes him feel like the air was knocked out of him. he can't even think about it, he tried to ignore zelda's dragon floating aimlessly about the skies for the first few days but the grief became too much. he finds himself cross legged on her snout, braiding blue nightshades amongst silent princesses in her mane, taking comfort in talking to her about the weight of everything on his shoulders. purah's search party is useless when he spends the first week or so constantly by zelda's side, sleeping in amongst the warmth of her locks and offering her buttered apples whenever she perched. "hey, old girl."

seeing zelda this way, knowing she has destroyed herself just so that he may prevail in the fight against the enemy who caused all this suffering.. link vows to become his worst nightmare.

#zelink analysis #hey I'm back from the dead #nice meaty post for you all #had writers block womp womp #legend of zelda #loz link #loz zelda #tears of the kingdom #zelda and link #zelda x link #zelink #link #princess zelda #zelda tears of the kingdom #totk #totk spoilers #loz totk #zelda totk #totk link #the legend of zelda #zelda

[adventuringblind]

Sunrise

Oscar Piastri x Autistic!Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: The fans and media get to Oscar’s girlfriend in a way he’ll never forgive

Warnings: SUICIDE AND SH depictions, toxic media, death threats, lack of communication, anxiety, Oscar is a mess.

Notes: …. We’re not talking about my patterns alright. I swear I’m in therapy.

Masterlist

Oscar is not normally an irrational person. He prides himself on his calm and collected state. Something that his neurodivergent counterpart loves because it makes him easy to read. Everything is clear to her with him.

He adores his girlfriend. Plans to eventually marry her one day. He doesn’t care that her body isn’t the ‘standard’ for beauty because he finds her stunning. He doesn’t care that she has deep passions for her interests and could talk for hours about it because he loves listening.

So why is it his fans don’t get that same thing? Why do the vultures have to attack her for doing nothing wrong?

He ponders these questions as he sits in the hospital waiting room. Fingers crossed he got to her in time.

~

She’d turned off all her notifications on social media. She had to. For some reason now that Oscar and McLaren are on track and fighting again, people are seeming to notice her more often.

Gone are the days of sneaking off into the quiet corners. Numbered are the days she’ll be able to spend with him at this rate.

The death threats started a month ago. To many things she’d rather not think about. The name calling is flat out unnecessary and something she doesn’t understand.

She knows logically nothing can come if it. But the nagging at her brain won’t stop for some reason. She hates it, being empathetic. She just feels so extremely that she can’t decipher if the words hurt her or if she’s angry and why she feels this way. It’s to much for her mind to process.

So she turns everything off. No social media for her.

She’d simply told Oscar the hate was to much and she needs a break from the internet. Which isn’t a lie, but she didn’t want him to worry about her and start doing poorly because of it.

Instead curled up underneath her blankets with music and switched off the world.

~

Oscar is feeling alright with fifth in Hungary. Not exactly where he wants to be, but it’s still considerably better then where he was previously.

As is routine, he gets into the garage as quickly as he can. The one thing he managed to negotiate for with his PR team: the he gets to check in on his girlfriend before he does media duties.

He peers inside. It’s mostly empty due to the incoming podium celebration. But there is no sign of her. Nothing is the garage or his driver room or Lando’s room, or the bathroom.

His heart thuds in his chest. This is routine, and she always sticks to her routine. If she’s not here then something must be terribly wrong. Oscar pulls out his phone to see he has a text from her and the weight on him lessens just a tad.

‘Sorry I won’t be there for the end of the race! I was feeling incredibly sick so I went back to the hotel room! I love you so much! 🧡🖤’

And suddenly that weight is back. If she left then something is clearly wrong. She’s stayed through blurry vision from migraines, endured hours of overstimulation for him, even dealt with his fans pushing her around. Yet she always stayed. If something caused her to leave then it’s definitely something to worry about.

He ended up missing the podium celebration. His PR manager is looking for him. But he could care less and heads straight for Zak.

He gives a brief summary of what’s going on and defines is as an emergency. That word was what made Zak let him go as long as he promised to keep everyone posted.

Then he ran.

~

Race weekends have come to be one of her favorite things. The consistent hum of car engines stimulates her brain in a way that she loves.

What she doesn’t love is the fans. She wonders for a moment if all the WAG’s have this kind of hate. So she sets off to go find Lily and ask. She’s become close with her over the course of this year. She’s also passionate about things and it’s fun to listen to her get excited over her interests. Something the female can relate to well.

When she neared the Williams hospitality, she saw Lily and waved her over only to be stopped in her tracks by a few fans in McLaren gear. She instantly took notices of the very blatant disregard for personal space and the negative energy they carried with them.

Then they out in some fake smiles and handed her an envelope, walking away without a word.

She was left confused and stunned. But also curious. The envelope in her hands had some weight to it and she can’t help but wonder what’s inside.

She doesn’t hesitate to open it. Her eyes scanning over the contents. Every second she looks at it makes her feel sick to her stomach.

Someone had been stalking them. Not just her and Oscar, but Lando as well. Addresses, pictures, personal information, even images from intimate moments where they are very clearly without clothes.

She could see the possibility of her and maybe Oscar being stalked if these are the same fans who have been harassing her for a couple months now. But Lando as well makes her feel dirty and upset in a way.

It’s to much. She feels to much. It’s overwhelming.

She stuffs everything back inside and finally gets to Lily. A brief excuse leaves her lips that she’s going back to the hotel cause she’s feeling sick. She takes note of Lily’s instant concern and the female does her best to fight back every emotion. It’s utterly draining. She has no energy to sort out her feelings and other peoples feelings when she can’t understand any of them anyway.

Lily lets her go on the condition she texts her when she gets back to the hotel.

She agrees. She'll be messaging everyone when she gets there.

~

Oscar gets into his car and fumbles around for the keys.

He left them with his stuff. His stuff that he doesn't have. Now he's going to have to run all the way back.

He gets out and heads straight to the McLaren garage. Ignoring the strange looks.

He even tries pulling his phone out to call her. Straight to voicemail. Twenty times.

Halfway there, he runs into Lando. The Brit is winded and carrying Oscar's things.

"I'm driving."

~

She can't believe she's actually going to do this. It's not that she's never thought about it before. Feeling alien on your own planet will do that to you. But she feels like she has no other choice.

It's too much. The fans want her dead, and they are willing to do horrible things to get it.

She can't handle it. The feelings of all of it are overwhelming. She can't tell where her emotions end and someone else's start. The letter written to her only points out further.

The last few months have been beyond her limit. She doesn't feel safe in her own skin. Everyone is telling her she'll never be enough. That she is not meant for this life.

She'd thought about her friends as she wrote those damn notes. The blank looks when she says something lnnapropriat for the conversation. The times she's had meltdowns and they had to deal with her.

She thinks about Oscar, too. His note is three pages long. It's intimate, and she hopes he can understand it. Words she's written countless times the last months to make sure he understands her decision.

She lays it out where she knows he'll see it and then locks herself in the bathroom. The bathtub is filled with ice-cold water and not filled all the way to the top. Just enough to make things easy.

Is she really doing this because those damn fans are going to leak everything about their lives tonight if she doesn't? Certainly a factor in her decision. It seems the logical solution if she's to fix the problem. She hates herself for this; that she can't just be what everyone wants.

That thought brings the first cut.

She didn't bother taking off her clothes. She hates the feeling. They cling to her skin and it makes her want to peel her skin off.

The second cut is for her clothing.

Then the third.

And a fourth.

The fifth makes her dizzy.

The sixth causes her vision to dance.

The seventh and eighth she can't even register.

Everything is numb by nine and ten.

Then nothing.

~

Oscar and Lando take three steps at a time.

Apparently, Lando had run into Lily and found out what had happened. The Brit also felt his stomach drop with the feeling something is wrong.

Oscar sprints down the hall when they make it to the right floor. Fumbles around with his key card. Then, finally, he gets the door open.

He scans the room. There is paper stacked neatly on the table. An envelop almost thrown to the side.

He looks at the note addressed to him, and he chokes. Lando is searching for any sign of life but the Aussie can't see past the fact that there are fans asking her to kill herself. And that she felt the need to say yes because now they have stalkers.

He'll think about it later. Right now, Lando is screaming for him.

He barrels to where the voice comes from. Again, he chokes. This time on frantic tears.

Lando is looking like he might pass out, but the Brit is staying strong for his teammate and friend. He tries to get Oscar to help him.

She may be passed out, but the Aussie registers Lando saying she has a pulse. That she's still breathing even if it's shallow.

They work together to drag her out of the water. Her make it so that when they set her down, she immediately is sliding on the tile. They wrap her arm in wash rags. The only thing they can find to slow the bleeding. But the cuts are too deep. It doesn't slow.

So they call an ambulance.

Oscar doesn't register much after that. Listening to Lando instruct him on what to do, including breathing. Riding with her to the hospital. Watching her be taken away. Meeting Lando in the waiting room.

Now he has nothing to do but wait and look through everything he missed.

Her socials are where she's being threatened, sure. But it's the contents of the envelope that got Oscar angry. Way past the point of livid.

"Lan, I- what the hell." He shows everything to his teammate, and terror stretches across his face.

And then she was left with a ticking clock and an ultimatum. Disappear or have all this and more released to the public. What better way to disappear than to do it permanently.

It breaks him. He can't breathe past the thought of not having her around. He can't live knowing she left because the world is suck a cruel place. And he feels utterly selfish for wishing her to stay with him through it.

Somehow, he ended up on the floor, sobbing dramatically into Lando's sweatshirt.

But then others start to appear. It's not just the two of them because there are so many people that care for her.

Max shows up first with a certain Monegasque in tow, followed by Alex and Lily, the latter of which looks about as broken as him. Then George and Lewis appear, followed by Logan.

They explain what happened. Everyone is shocked, and there are no words between them for a few minutes as everyone processes.

"I don't understand why someone would do this." Pipes Max. He knows about death threats fairly well, but this is a new level of extreme.

"We could say something. Make a statement about it and start a suicide awareness campaign." Lewis suggests.

Oscar knows a campaign probably won't do much against whoever sent this, but a statement might. He wants to say everything on his mind.

And that's exactly what he did. His PR team be damned because this takes precedence.

~

She wasn't expecting to wake up. She wasn't supposed to wake up. So how is she awake?

She cracks her eyes open just a tad to assess her surroundings. Her arm is bandaged and she's underneath some of the worst textures to come in contact with.

The thing that catches her eye is the brown locks of a specific Australian. She moves her hand to them and runs her fingers gently along his scalp.

he shifts around a bit before relaxing into the feeling. At least she could give him this before she ruins his and Lando's life.

She's not sure how long they go on like this until Oscar sits up and yawns. He blinks a few times and adjusts himself to the florescent lights.

She's not sure she's ever seen Oscar cry before. Once at a really sad movie, but even that was just slight. Now he's crying tears for her. The sound makes her tear ducts spring into action as well.

"Please, don't ever do that again." He rasps. His voice crackles with the sound of sobs.

She doesn't say anything. She can't say anything. So instead, Oscar crawls into the bed with her. He just cradles her body into his.

"I'm sorry." Is all she manages to say. And after a few more breathes she continues. "I didn't want to be the reason you and Lando lose your jobs. Or be the cause of your stress. And then everything felt like it was too much, and I just wanted it to stop." She feels pathetic.

"I promise that I will never be upset with you for something like this. The fans pushed and pushed and then drove you into a corner. But in the future, you have to come to me. I can't help if you don't communicate with me."

"What about racing? And Lando? And all your personal information?" The weight she'd had before has made a sudden return.

"Should be taken care of. We beat them to the punch and made a statement about how someone close to McLaren had been threatened and the person responsible would be posting personal information." Oscar explains. She feels better knowing they didn't say it was her name. "I also said I would be taking a break from socials for personal reasons... and also said something about how much I love you."

~

The news came out eventually. It's not every day that F1 driver's campaign for mental health. But they've all been incredibly helpful. She is on the road to recovery and Oscar intends on being with her through every step of the way.

#x reader #fanficion #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 #racing #f1 fanfic #angst #lando norris #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren racing #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar pastry #mclaren #McLaren f1 #papaya #formula one x reader #lando norris f1 #oscar piastri x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #ln4

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

if i fell through the floor i would keep falling ; suguru geto

synopsis; geto knocks at your front door one morning ten years after leaving everything he knew behind, fully expecting to be met with a middle finger or a hand to the throat. when you invite him in, instead, he can’t help but feel somewhat perplexed.

word count; 7.5k

contents; suguru geto/reader (platonic or romantic, up to u!!), gn!reader, geto-typical angst with lots of yearning, open-ended, geto’s pov, reader is a softie, mutual pining kinda, geto is terminally bitter and terminally lonely and also kind of a bitch but we love him

a/n; i’m extremely normal abt suguru geto and the debilitating loneliness he must’ve felt during the ten years after he left <33

”it’s been a while.”

the smile on his face must be sweet, he thinks, illuminated by the blurry light of the morning sun. as charming as it’s always been. coated in a thin layer of lighthearted deceit, a cruelly projected sense of normalcy.

with a hand raised up in cheerful greeting, geto gazes down at you.

— admittedly, he’s a little underwhelmed by your reaction.

astonishment or bafflement was maybe a little too much to ask for. you don’t look very surprised to see him at all; almost as if you were expecting him to show up in front of your apartment at the break of dawn.

and, really, maybe you were. after all, satoru must have told you already. why wouldn’t he let you in on their touching reunion, the promise of war that spilled so easily from his lips?

of course you would have heard of it by now.

still, geto can’t deny that it’s just a little bit disappointing. he would’ve liked to see your wide eyes, would’ve liked to hear you stammer a bit. the expression you’re currently sporting is something else entirely.

you look sad.

there’s a fondness in your eyes, though, unmistakable. a spark of it, entirely impossible to ignore, that catches him off guard. and there’s a softness in the way you raise your head to look up at him, a familiarity that flickers in the depths of your irises.

geto is just a little bit put off by it.

it looks the same as always. you look the same as always. and geto’s heart constricts, where it rests, tucked away deep within the confines of his ribcage.

a moment passes. the sun peeks out from beneath the curtain of the horizon, the violet and indigo of the morning sky melting into that familiar burst of ochre. and geto is content, to silently admire the way that you glow in its light.

he waits, patiently, for your expression to shift. to melt into one of anger, or repulsion, or any other kind of bitter hue.

it never does.

a sigh flows from your parted lips, instead. a soft little breath. in the bitter cold of a morning such as this, it turns into vapour as it drifts through the air. you blink, tiredly, eyelashes fluttering with something akin to exasperation.

”you’re a cruel guy, you know that?”

geto blinks. a fickle moment passes.

then, he smiles.

you’re admonishing him, but you’re doing so almost gently — with an easygoing kind of disapproval. as if you’re still in high school, huffing over the teasing bout of laughter he lets slip when you trip over air.

geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, an action he’s grown awfully used to over the years. smiles are a form of currency, he has come to realize — smiles of deceit, of fondness, of barely contained disgust. all kinds of smiles, whether plastered on or genuine. a means to meet an end.

a single tug of his lips, encompassing an immeasurable number of unspoken words.

the smile that geto graces you with is an amused one. it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s friendly enough. ”so i’ve been told.”

for a minute, you do nothing but observe him. there’s a turmoil behind your eyes that seeps out in the way you look at him, the way you shift from foot to foot and gnaw at your bottom lip anxiously. geto doesn’t interrupt, observing you in turn. waiting for one of you to move the first piece of this little morning game of chess.

in the light, he can almost delude himself into thinking that your eyes change colour, different shades and hues dancing around your dilated pupils. as you gaze over the contours of his face, a certain kind of affection blooms within them, one that geto expected to have faded over the years. 

but it’s still there. and it’s the same. a little more blurry, maybe, a little faded at the edges — more matured. but still the same, despite that. 

(a memory comes to him. one of you, and him; sharing a bag of chips on the school’s rooftop when neither of you could sleep.

bathed in the light of the moon, your eyes glimmered with that very same affection, like a shooting star breaking out across the night sky.)

one long, careful, tender moment passes by. 

the intense contemplation on your features is almost enough to coax a chuckle from the depths of his throat. an urge to tease you creeps up on him, slowly, but before he can open his mouth you seem to come to a kind of conclusion.

and so, you step to the side — allowing him to see inside your apartment, catch a brief glimpse of the interior. you look oddly comfortable, at peace, having made your move; the next piece is his to place.

what a surprising move, though. geto can’t help it if his eyes widen just a smidge, if he blinks in a way that could almost be interpreted as briefly confused. out of all the possible scenarios he’s played out in his mind over the years, this wasn’t the one he expected to merge with reality.

”wanna come in?” you ask, tentative. your voice is inviting. a little clumsy, although he supposes that could just be because of fatigue. it is early, after all.

geto takes a moment to think.

as far as he can tell — and he always can, in one way or another — there is no deceit hidden in your expression. no signs of bloodlust, no spark of violence, no quiet resentment bubbling beneath the surface. earnest. that’s all it is. a little awkward, but candid. pure, in a way.

you aren’t trying to trick him. you’re genuinely, seriously, honest-to-god inviting him inside your apartment.

the next move is his to make.

and geto knows exactly what he should do. he should decline, politely, excuse himself with feigned remorse and a jovial invitation to his own personal hell.

(surely, you already know. the others have almost certainly told you by now. geto just wanted to personally invite you, himself. face to face.)

right. that’s what he should do. that’s the winning move.

and yet, he finds himself moving.

lips curling up on their own, without his approval, geto moves forward. one step is all it takes for him to cross the threshold of your home; a boundary he didn’t expect you to offer up so callously, truth be told, but who is he to deny the wishes of a dear old friend?

”why, thank you,” he smiles, voice pleasant, smooth like silk.

(for just a little while, he supposes he can indulge himself in the opportunity you’ve so graciously given him. just for a bit.)

geto doesn’t bother taking off his footwear, and he knows you couldn’t care less either way. allowing him to pass you by as he waltzes into your very own space, you close the door behind him. he half-expects to hear the click of the lock, but it never comes.

a particular scent envelops him, as he stands by the coat rack, unmoving — he has no intention of taking off his robes, heavy with his carefully nurtured devotion. a symbol of his choice.

the scent is familiar, but also unlike anything he can recall within the borders of his memory; a soothing blend between fresh laundry, and sunlight, and cat fur, and something rather sweet.

there’s more to it than that, though. a certain scent geto could only ever describe as you. 

(his heart aches with longing.)

as he ponders the intricacies of the fragrance, geto is acutely aware of the stare burning into his back. how careless of him, to leave it facing you, unguarded and vulnerable.

what a perfect opportunity he’s presented you with; the great curse user suguru geto, forever exiled and wanted dead, now merely a fly at the mercy of the web you’ve created. trapped in your apartment with his back turned to you, a mere lamb to the slaughter.

how easy it would be, for you to plunge a knife into his flesh. to curve your way along his spine.

you do nothing of the sort, though. and for some reason, the realization that you aren’t going to irks him, even though deep down he knew that would be the case. still, it crawls its way under his skin, along the arteries of his forearm, an itch he yearns to claw away.

how foolish. how very like you.

(what a cruel thing change can be, when no one else seems to succumb to it.)

unable to do anything but accept it, however, geto turns towards you once more. you stiffen, as if burned by his gaze, and a part of him delights in it.

”how have you been?” he asks, bright and courteous. there’s a genuinity to the question that geto can’t deny. something about this situation sends a spark of fondness running through his veins.

at the sound of his voice, your eyes soften again. it’s a subtle shift, but he doesn’t miss it. doesn’t think he ever really could, because even though the light inside your eyes makes him uncomfortable, down to the very marrow of his bones, he can do nothing but bask in it. in your attention, in that heavy gaze.

a single word could never hope to faithfully describe the emotion smouldering inside it — but if forced to, geto would humbly settle on resignation.

it’s almost as if you still haven’t fully accepted it, ten years down the line, that you’re only just beginning to. like even now, you’re convinced that it’s nothing more than one big joke; that he’s about to reveal a hidden camera, and gleefully tell you that it was all a prank to get back at satoru.

naive, naive, naive. but geto can’t deny that it tastes sweet, on his tongue — to imagine that you might still have some faith in him, after all this time.

a sigh leaves your lips. you sound a little bit exhausted. it sends a pang of ache to the very center of his heart, and a part of him yearns to soothe you. another part relishes in the pain he must have brought you over the years.

the rest of him smoothly tucks those stray thoughts away, as he brushes non-existent dust off from his robes.

then, your eyes take on a more tender hue. you ignore his question entirely, and speak in a low voice. raspy and sincere, and maybe just a tad bitter, given everything.

”those robes don’t suit you, suguru.”

— a shiver travels down his spine.

suguru.

(the way your lips form around the syllables is still so lovely.)

you’re full of surprises, as always. at least to a certain extent, he was expecting you to settle on geto, to draw a firm line in the sand between him and you. the ocean and the land, always meant to be separated by that thin line, kept apart in each other’s best interest.

but geto is beginning to accept that you’re going to do this your way — sincerely.

the statement is a veil, obscuring a million unspoken thoughts, double meanings that aren’t particularly hard to discern. a silent rejection, a quiet disapproval. there’s a grief to it that sits heavy on your tongue.

taking a moment to collect himself, geto meets your gaze, and all its weight. his lips curl up into a sad smile, a little fatigued. he wonders if you can hear it, in his voice.

(maybe it was stupid of him, to think he could keep this meeting professional.)

”… is that so?”

you continue to look at him, as if waiting for something else. but geto doesn’t give you what you want, that touch of tender honesty he’s sure you’re hoping for.

”i think they suit me just fine,” he playfully disagrees, instead, tone bordering on something childishly stubborn.

you wait just a single moment more, still clinging to that hope for something sincere, anything. 

then you huff. it sounds vaguely amused.

”you look like a con artist,” you deadpan, eyes flitting down to examine the outfit again. geto would be offended by your rudeness if you didn’t also happen to be right.

”how sweet of you,” he purrs, shooting you a smug smile. the words are lighthearted, mildly teasing. “that’s exactly what i’m going for.”

you give him an unimpressed look, that he mirrors with a perfect smile — and then you give in to another amused exhale, paired with a soft shake of your head.

there it is again, geto thinks. that sense of déjà vu. it’s equal parts eerie as it is comforting.

silence lingers in the air around you, as hazy sunlight flits in through the gap between your curtains and cascades across the floorboards. until you clear your throat endearingly, and walk past him.

”well, make yourself at home,” you murmur in passing.

considering the circumstances, the words are spoken fairly naturally, and geto has to resist the urge to laugh at how ridiculous this is. inviting a wanted criminal into your home, a literal mass murderer, and treating him with the same politeness you’d show to any other guest.

what would the elders think, he wonders, if they knew? would they brand you an accomplice, question your motives? put your head on the chopping block right next to his? he wouldn’t put it past them, the pieces of shit.

but despite his amusement, geto doesn’t laugh. he only watches as you make your way to the kitchen counter, a firefly catching his eye in the summer night.

(except you aren’t a firefly, and it’s not summer. it’s winter, and you’re someone geto wishes he didn’t still care for.)

”i was thinking of making tea,” you hum, voice soft but still easy for him to discern from his spot in the living room. ”do you want some?”

geto’s lips quirk up into a tiny smile. his voice is teasing, as it flows out from his lips.

”how generous,” he chirps, still idly watching the way you move around the open space, your hair changing colour in the flickering light of the sun. ”satoru could learn a thing or two from you.”

he expects you to flinch. a suitable reaction, to how casually he brings up his reunion with his best friend, like it’s nothing. like it means nothing. like nothing’s wrong.

geto knows it’s cruel, which is exactly why he does it.

but you don’t flinch. you don’t even stiffen. and he senses no anger in your body language, in the silence that settles in the space between his words and yours. all you do is exhale sharply, a little exasperated.

”you shouldn’t be so cruel to him.” a beat. your voice sounds just a little smaller when you continue. ”he’s missed you, you know.”

the reply is nearly instantaneous, and it’s bare. honest. you sound like you’re scolding him, but it’s more protective than angry. and it’s gentle, like you’re patching him up after a mission, reprimanding him for not being more careful.

at this point, geto can tell you have no intention of playing along. how annoying. he wishes you would — that earnest sadness and regret of yours is almost unbearable, and the gentle bluntness you present him with cuts much deeper than his casual cruelty ever could.

you aren’t going to play along, aren’t going to pretend you don’t care. geto wonders why you won’t, why you’re the only one who still refuses to.

satoru certainly has no issue with it. playing along, putting up a front. attempting to treat him coldly, as an enemy. but geto knows him, knows his soul like the back of his hand, and he could tell it was trembling when their eyes met. from underneath those bandages of his, the thin layer of cowardice that shields those precious eyes from the rest of the world. from geto.

and shoko is just as unbothered as ever. always playing it cool, never caught off guard or shaken to her core. geto can’t even tell if it’s an act or not, anymore. but he knows that she was angry, when they spoke that day, ten years in the past. knows she wanted to tell him off, but chose not to.

both her and satoru are like that. always have been. closed off, accustomed to bearing an unbearable weight, resigned to the ache that it brings them. acting distant in a desperate attempt to mend it.

you, though?

you were always a little too sincere for your own good, a little too true to yourself. it must hurt you, he thinks. it must hurt you even just to look at him. yet you continue to do so, unflinchingly.

that’s simply how you are.

you’ve always enjoyed dipping your toes into the grief of it all, leaning into the pain. always the first to take that step into the abyss. content to tear yourself open for everyone to see, even if no one follows suit.

never averting your eyes. never taking the easy way out.

(unlike him.)

geto hums, smiling a little at the sickening irony of it all.

the gentle clinking of ceramic resounds throughout the kitchen, and geto’s ears perk up. his gaze follows your hands, as they move to grab two cups from the wall cabinet. floral designs, he dully notes. blue bells on one, red camellias on the other. a porcelain teapot rests on the kitchen table, but no flowers adorn it.

without your expressions to keep him entertained, geto decides to wallow in the fleeting peace and quiet. aside from your soft breathing and the occasional clinking of teacups, there are no sounds to be heard. 

a moment that seems to exist outside of time and space, where time passes backwards and your shuffling in the kitchen is his only concern.

eager to satiate the mellow boredom in his chest, geto’s eyes begin to flit across the space of your apartment. greedily drinking in every detail he can see, as if he’s trying to memorize it all. maybe he is.

everything he can see is a piece of your existence, in one way or another. every inch of the apartment is littered with your fingerprints, your choices and fickle tastes.

like the rich yellow of the curtains you’ve picked out to frame the glass of the windows, bright and stark and blending smoothly in with the cream colour of the wallpaper surrounding it. or the forgotten cup on the table in front of the tv, a faded green. he vaguely remembers seeing you drink out of it back when things were still good, when you both thought of the school as your home.

a book rests on the duvet pillows of your couch, but he sees no bookmark peeking out from between the pages. geto wonders if you still dog-ear your books, and thinks to himself that a crime of that calibre would warrant your own exile if the world was only fair. alas, it isn’t. war of the foxes, he reads from the cover. ironic.

along the windowsills are potted plants, stacked up next to each other, green and flourishing despite the snowy wonderland of the outside world. their leaves differ in shape and size, some accompanied by blooming flowers. he imagines you watering them, dutifully, nurturing them with gentle hands and sleepy smiles. 

there are many things to look at, more and more little fragments sprouting up the longer geto continues to do so. a knitted sweater thrown over the wooden armrest of a chair. colourful candy wrappers littering the table. an old radio tucked away in a corner of the room. 

geto drinks it all in — a home you’ve painstakingly created, that you’ve allowed him into. he examines it thoroughly, the way an art dealer judges a painting on display. turning the image over inside his mind, twisting it, burning it into his retinas. soaking in every little detail he manages to find. 

your home.

(it’s so like you that it hurts.)

finally, geto thinks he’s had his fill of the living room. so he ventures into the kitchen, only a couple long strides away.

the scent that greets him this time is comforting, homey. the aroma of coffee grounds, a touch of leftover curry, a strong fragrance of blooming hyacinths and dried lavender sitting contentedly by the windowsill. through the translucent glass, geto sees layers upon layers of snow on the rooftops, and the gradual rise of the glittering sun. 

the quiet buzzing of the electric kettle is the only sound he hears, along with the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall, as his eyes wander along the kitchen.

the shelves are stacked with a variety of different spices, and glass jars of honey and jam. along the counters rest a wide array of kitchen appliances, from blenders to rice cookers to french presses. mugs with silly designs are stuffed into an opened wall cabinet, and geto recognizes some of them, to his silent delight. 

there are colourful post-it notes stuck to the fridge, messy scribbles of recipes and reminders. meetings, birthdays, grocery lists. even just little doodles, smiley faces and napping cats that make his lips quirk up. and polaroids — he tries not to let his gaze linger on the picture of satoru sleeping in the most uncomfortable, inhumane position he’s ever witnessed, nor the blurry image of shoko smoking by a balcony railing, sleeves cuffed and expression forlorn. he can’t imagine either of them noticed you snapping the photos.

(no polaroids of him. of course not. why would there be?)

geto tries not to look over at the fridge again, examining the floor and furniture instead. over in the corner stands a bowl of cat food, seemingly untouched. the kitchen table is covered with a checkered cloth, kept down by a plate of chocolate chip cookies. 

your kitchen is fairly small, but it’s cozy. rays of fresh sunlight envelop it in a giddy, ruminating glow. like something out of a dream.

when geto enters the space, your eyes flit over to him briefly, and he shoots you a friendly smile. your eyes do that thing, again, where they crumble a little at the corners and get a tad softer. like you’re looking at an old friend.

(he supposes you are.)

you clear your throat before speaking, as he takes in all the sights.

”what kind of tea do you want? i’ve got, uh…” 

with gentle movements, you open a wall cabinet, eyes swiftly scanning over the different labels of the many boxes, jars and sachets of tea inside. dutifully, you list off the ones you can see. 

”earl grey, chamomile… oolong, rooibos…” you continue, seemingly never running out of options, fingers tapping at the handle. ”ah, this one’s kinda weird. it’s supposed to be, like, cherry flavoured? don’t ask, satoru picked it out — but it tastes more like laundry detergent.” 

a pause. 

”it’s pretty good, though.”

geto can’t help it. the comment coaxes a chuckle from out his chest, and he’s surprised at how genuine it sounds when it spills from his lips. 

you seem to notice it, too, seeing as you perk up where you stand by the counter. out of the corner of his eye, geto thinks he almost catches the fleeting glimmer of a tiny smile on your lips.

and for a moment, everything feels familiar. eerie and comforting, in equal measure. a sense of nostalgia drifts throughout the kitchen, mingling with the scent of tea leaves and sunshine and freshly baked cookies. 

this is the opportunity you’ve given him — a slice of normalcy. as close to normalcy as one can come to in a situation such as this. a soft bout of laughter, shared between estranged childhood friends, one of which is a mass murderer. it’s really not normal at all.

normalcy is no more than a fever dream. that much has always been the case, but —

there’s a comfort in it, in this. the familiarity of it all. the way you settle into old roles, share knowing looks and cycle through old memories he knows you’re both haunted by.

it’s soothing.

he’s changed, and you’ve changed, but there’s still a sense of belonging between the two of you. in this moment, this sole flicker of nostalgia. in this kitchen.

and for a moment, geto almost forgets why he’s there. almost forgets the unforgettable, the inevitability of a choice he made long ago. it stings, and he wonders how you can bear it; this thin line between longing and awareness.

”so? what’ll it be?”

your voice rings out across the open space, face angled towards the table to meet his stare. 

geto hums, absentmindedly, and takes a step closer.

the narrow distance between you two lies heavy, as he shuffles up right next to you, haphazardly sweeping his eyes over the wide assortment in front of him. he can almost, almost hear your breath hitch when the fabric of his clothing grazes your shoulder.

he wonders if the tea is just an excuse, to be able to come so close. to bask in your warmth.

you don’t move away.

”oolong,” he firmly decides. he doesn’t really need to think about it.

then he swiftly turns on his heel, and takes a seat by the kitchen table. confident and graceful — as if this isn’t your kitchen, but his. unconcerned over table manners, his elbows resting on the wooden board, as his jaw meets the heel of his palm. he bites into one of the chocolate chip cookies, the sweetness crumbling on his tongue.

this time, you finally do stiffen — though geto doesn’t see it. he does, however, feel your lingering stare, and when he tilts his head in your direction he catches a glint of sorrow passing through the depths of your irises.

geto blinks. he tilts his head questioningly, a cue for you to follow.

and finally, finally, you stammer. barely, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of your voice.

”ah — sorry,” you mumble, gaze falling down to the floorboards. you seem almost flustered. ”it’s just…” 

there’s something raw in your voice, something that wavers. 

”back then, you’d always choose earl grey.”

a long moment of silence passes.

there are a million unspoken words in that sentence, geto knows. words you’ll never say, words you’ve always yearned to say. though he has no intention of digging them out. 

the sentiment is more than enough.

a bitter taste settles on his tongue, but he smiles, careful to keep his voice light.

”well,” he hums. ”some things change, i suppose.”

to that, you huff out a breath of amusement, turning around to face the counter once more. but not before eyeing his robes again, expression rich with humour.

”yeah,” you hum, lighthearted. something close to a chuckle. ”i suppose they do.”

geto grins softly, in tandem, from his spot by the table. like you’re still teenagers, sharing a look over an inside joke no one else is privy to.

after that, he simply watches you work, chewing at the treat while he waits for the tea to be done. the light of the electric kettle flickers off, and your hands curl around the handle, bringing it to rest next to the teapot on the tablecloth. he watches, expression mildly bored, as you grab the ceramic cups and the silken sachet bag of dried tea leaves.

a strong scent of oolong tea wafts through the air, when you flick your fingers to pour some of the leaves into the teapot. there’s a certain elegance in the way you pour the boiling water, slowly, in a smooth circular pattern. geto follows the movement, the rise and fall of the leaves as water fills the strainer.

you’re unhurried, methodical. there is care in the motion of your hands, the intense gaze you bear as you perform it. every slight twitch of your knuckles, the soft exhale you emit when the teapot has been filled. 

geto can do nothing but watch, in silent admiration. 

you put the porcelain lid back on, blocking the steam rising up in a flurry of warmth. while the tea simmers, soaking up the flavour of the leaves, you busy yourself with readying two teaspoons. 

”how do you take it, these days?” you ask him, as you languidly pour hot tea into the cups. ”any sweetener? milk?”

”one cube of sugar. no milk.”

at that, your eyes flit up, recognition blooming in them as you hear the familiar sentence. but geto keeps his gaze glued to the hyacinths on the windowsill, never meeting yours.

truthfully, he says it mostly to appease you. he figures he can give you this one thing, at least — this one hope that maybe everything hasn’t changed, after all. that he hasn’t changed, in his entirety, that there’s still some remnant left of who he used to be. even if all that’s left of him is just one single cube of sugar.

it’s kind of funny. but geto doesn’t laugh. 

you place a cup in front of him. the one adorned by red camellias. geto racks his brain, flitting through past conversations with florists and paragraphs memorized from non-fiction books on botany. what was it, again?

eternal love. long-lasting devotion.

the petals and the calyx of a camellia always fall together.

geto bites back a laugh. some part of him wonders if you’re making fun of him, if this is how you’re planning to release your pent-up anger — in such a petty, roundabout manner. but deep down he knows it was no more than an absentminded choice, on your part.

(you always hurt him most when it’s not your intention to do so.)

as you take a seat on the opposite side of the table, he gingerly touches the rim of the cup. soft steam rises from the liquid, its colour marigold-esque, and geto breathes it in deeply before bringing the ceramic to his lips.

you watch, in anticipation. intensely enough that he can feel it even when his eyes flutter shut, your gaze prickling his skin as he sips from the cup.

the warmth of the tea is comforting, a distinctly floral taste spreading along his tongue. there’s a slight nuttiness to the taste, a rich sweetness. as it runs down his throat, geto hears himself hum softly. a satisfied smile slips into the curve of his lips. inside the depths of his chest, a light nostalgia swirls, pleasant and tingly. 

he remembers moonlit nights, whispered secrets you could only ever tell each other, the glimmer of aluminium and rush of caffeine as you gulped down the too-sweet coffee that the vending machines had to offer.

he remembers sunny mornings, muffled laughter shared in the solitude of the kitchen, basking in the floral scent of chamomile and lavender and everything in between as the world woke up around you.

with a clink, geto sets his cup down on the table, pinkie raised lightly. smile a tad bittersweet.

”this is good tea.”

a moment passes. you break out into a genuine smile, nearly beaming, delighted by his approval. 

”isn’t it?” you chirp, fingers curling around your own cup, the little painted flowers adorning it. blue bells. geto recalls that old wives’ tale — how wearing a wreath of blue bells compels one to tell the truth. ”nanami got this one for me, actually.”

he smiles, perking up ever so slightly. a little more animated. ”oh?” he takes another sip. ”he always was a snob, wasn’t he.” 

that makes your own smile grow, lips twitching upwards, and an amused exhale flows from your lips. a gentle breath. you always were very fond of your grumpy underclassman. ”yeah.”

there’s something familiar about this, geto can’t help but think. eerily so. an acute sense of déjà vu, the same one that’s been plaguing him all morning.

the way you’re treating him isn’t how one would treat an enemy, nor a stranger — it’s how one would treat an old friend. that, and nothing more.

(geto wishes he could say it didn’t soothe his heart so terribly.)

he allows himself to sink deeper into the rotten sweetness of it all. indulges in this one fleeting moment, before everything crashes and burns. 

the world outside your kitchen is a cold one, he knows, blanketed by snow and frost that has yet to be stained red. the pure white is a warning, not a consolation — a reminder that there are still things to be lost.

the world of curses is an empty promise, the promise of suffering being rewarded. the idea that the sun will melt the frost around your legs if you wade through enough snow. 

(but geto knows better.)

outside your kitchen, only one path exists for him. it isn’t a kind one, nor is it particularly comforting. but, unlike those empty promises, that path has a truth to it. an end point, that isn’t just wait and see what happens, maybe the sun will rise if you’re lucky.

he isn’t a fool. the world is as cruel as it is beautiful, which is a false simile because cruelty is only ever beautiful when you aren’t a part of it. another one of those empty promises. geto has no idea how they kept him going for so long.

but here, in this moment — the world feels rather kind. kind in the sense of being just enough, the kind of brief solace that used to give him enough hope to get through the day.

for now, this aching gap of yet-to-be-ruined is enough. it’s all that he cares about, all that exists.

— but all good things must eventually come to an end. 

geto knows it better than anyone, so he isn’t particularly surprised when he looks up to see your face set into hard lines.

you meet his eyes with a certain flickering determination, a conviction — and geto knows you’re about to cross the comfortable line he was hoping you could both maintain for just a little longer.

”suguru.”

he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to. a smile is enough. so his lips curl up, silently.

”can i ask you something?”

every move geto makes is calculated, a performance, as your words sink into his subconscious. dragging the silence out, as if trying to waltz around the inevitable end of this sickeningly sweet game of morning chess. 

the slow circling of his spoon, creating a vortex for the oolong tea to follow, as it catches the light falling from the window. the way he leans back, to make himself comfortable, letting his jaw rest on the heel of his palm as he dissects your expression from across the table.

there is something almost taunting in his eyes. 

but he smiles. courteous, bright. ”go ahead.”

for just a second, he sees you falter. just a smidge, but the way your nails dig into the skin of your palm is telling, just like the way your eyes choose to linger on the tablecloth a second longer than they need to.

then you meet his eyes once more, and begin to speak. geto hangs on to your words, as if they even matter.

”i’m not expecting you to be honest with me,” you state, bluntly. he’s glad to know you’re on the same page for once. ”but i’d appreciate it if you could. just this one time. i won’t ask for anything else.”

another long and tactful sip of his tea. he wasn’t lying, before — it really is very nice. the flavour is strong and thick on his tongue, sweet and bitter all in one. expensive. the pads of his fingers tap along the ceramic of his cup, right over the red flowers that seem to taunt him so.

here it comes. your lips part, but no sound comes out, and geto knows you’re thinking of how best to phrase your inquiry. it doesn’t take you long to decide, a firmness blossoming in the scope of your iris. a sense of finality.

”are you happy?”

despite everything, his breath hitches in his throat. the movement of his fingers halts.

your question comes out clear, candid, sincere. the look in your eyes makes him feel a little like he’s being devoured. vaguely aware of how his smile wavers, for just a split second, geto can only hope you don’t notice it — but he doubts you do, because you only continue to speak, unperturbed.

”i’m sure you’ve changed a lot, these past ten years. and i’m sure you’ve had more than enough time to convince yourself that you’re happy, even if you aren’t.” you bite your lip. ”i should’ve asked you this a long time ago. but now — i’m asking.”

geto’s eyes never leave your face.

”are you happy? are you genuinely satisfied with your life? are you happy with your choice?” 

there’s something desperate in your eyes, now. something geto can’t look away from, despite himself. all he can do is touch the ceramic beneath his fingers, hot enough to burn, and listen to you speak. 

”if… if you are, then —” 

you take a deep breath, a sharp inhale that geto would mimic if he wasn’t dead set on maintaining his composure.

”— then i won’t get in the way. i’ll let you live your life the way you want to. just as long as that’s true.” 

geto looks at you, smile nowhere to be seen. time itself seems to halt, in the space of your kitchen. the current center of the world.

he doesn’t dare to even breathe.

”… but,” your voice trembles. you stare intently at your own cup, surely beginning to grow lukewarm at this point. what a waste of good tea. ”if you aren’t happy, then —”

a pause. no one says a thing.

”then what?” geto spits. his voice comes out sounding just a tad sharp, cold like the frost outside your apartment. more so than he meant it to.

your pupils waver, before you lift your head to look at him. the resolution in your eyes makes his breath hitch. an unflinching kindness, one he can’t remember you ever not having.

”— then i’ll do whatever it takes to change that. no matter what.” a beat. “even if it makes you hate me.”

such immense honesty.

geto wonders why he came here, in the first place.

to declare war. was that his genuine desire, though? or was it just another excuse?

with satoru, he can pretend. with shoko, he can pretend. with himself, he can certainly pretend.

but with you?

his fingers leave the ceramic, eyes burning with a decision mirroring yours.

geto’s burned many bridges, in his life. but this particular bridge is one he’ll miss. the cinders that follow won’t keep him warm, that much he knows.

but in the face of such honesty — such genuine kindness — he couldn’t bear not to give you a serious answer.

(it’s the least he could do for you.)

”i am.”

a moment passes. the center of the world shifts. 

”i’m happy with my choice.”

it was the only one worth making.

as they fall from his lips, the words taste heavy, absolute. in the light of a morning still yet to be broken by the passage of time, your eyes shift. for a moment geto wonders if you’ll close them. if you’ll give yourself that one relief.

you don’t.

instead, you bite your lip, eyes stubbornly never leaving his own. now you look a little angry, a little frustrated. he’s glad to see that flicker of fury directed at him, at last.

”but are you happy?” you persist, frustrated in a way that buzzes with kindness and concern. a way that makes him feel rather lost.

geto hears himself speak before he has a chance to think about his answer. the voice that comes out of his throat sounds oddly soft.

”that doesn’t matter.”

”it should.”

your reply is equally instantaneous. and geto feels a tremor run through his heart.

”are you happy, suguru?” you try again, pleading. that hope of yours is back, the hope that he’ll be honest just this once. sincere, even just for a syllable or two.

the clock on the wall ticks, hands moving methodically and cruelly, second by second. another moment of time burned to cinders. geto knows what must be done.

this mindless self-indulgence was nice, for a while. but geto has more bridges to burn. more wars to brew.

one final touch. that’s what he’ll give you, in return for your generosity. one final touch of tender honesty, even if it burns his tongue.

”i will be,” he exhales, breathless. ”once all this is over.”

then he gets up from his chair, the squeaking of wood against the floorboards signaling a parting. your eyes never leave his face, as he dusts off his robes absentmindedly, glancing at the half-finished cup on the table.

then geto smiles at you. there’s a fondness to it, one he’d only ever show you. his eyes crinkle, just barely, and the dark brown of his iris shifts into a mellow amber as sunlight cascades down the contours of his face. a genuine smile.

”thank you for the tea.”

there it is. your eyes soften, again, helplessly. 

you aren’t satisfied. geto doubts you ever will be.

but you’ve always been the only one to tear yourself open, the only one to step into the abyss. geto has always admired it, just as much as he’s always found it foolish. not once has he ever followed suit.

things like honesty and tenderness don’t suit him. he doesn’t think they suit any sorcerer, except maybe for you.

at last, that grieving resignation finds its way to your eyes again. it doesn’t hurt him as much this time, perhaps because he was waiting for it.

”… you’re welcome,” you breathe. a sad little breath.

geto allows himself to look at you for just a moment more.

then he turns on his heel.

”well, this was nice,” he hums. ”but i really must be going now.”

pleasant and jovial. a voice unsuited for a situation like this. geto wonders if it hurts you as much as it hurts him.

rubbing salt into wounds is all he seems to do these days, anyhow. so he smiles. ”i’ll see you on the battlefield, i hope —”

”suguru.”

…

deep down, geto knows that there’s no going back from this. that the moment he moves his feet, the moment he leaves your apartment — the moment he steps over the threshold in front of him — he can never return.

your kitchen was never his to walk into, in the first place. he was never meant to set foot into your home. that was your choice. geto can’t help but think that it’s every bit as cruel as the one he made ten years ago.

your voice is the same as always. sad and fond. familiar, in how it twists and tugs at his heart in a way nothing else can anymore.

geto waits. he’ll let you have the final word. the final piece moved into place. checkmate.

he’ll let you be the one to devour that aching gap.

curse me, he whispers to the confines of his mind. resent me. i’ve caused you so much pain.

curse me yourself, so i can hate you properly.

”if you ever want another cup, i’ll be here.”

silence falls upon the kitchen.

geto stands still, feet rooted in the spot by the threshold separating the kitchen from the living room. the ticking of the clock is the only sound he hears.

there isn’t a trace of resentment in your voice.

(he wishes you would play along, even just once.)

a low hum buzzes in his throat. the seconds stretch on; more hands moved, more time burned into nothing. the silence is deafening, thick and heavy. an intense moment of contemplation, as geto tries not to shiver under the warmth of your constant gaze, burning into his back.

the center of the world shifts, once more. the gaze of fate falls upon the two of you, bathed in the rays of the rising sun, in a kitchen where normalcy is a little more than just a fever dream.

it doesn’t mean anything, anything at all.

geto knows it. he knows it better than anyone. but maybe he can allow this mindless self-indulgence to carry on, for just a little longer. if only to give him the excuse he needs to see you again, to stand in your kitchen like this, like the view of the rising sun is something he’s allowed to behold.

how greedy. how callous. hasn’t he always been, though?

just for a little bit longer.

”… you know,”

geto takes a step forward, robes fluttering with the movement, heavy and pious. he crosses the threshold, words just above a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear.

(in the space between the words, laced together with the silence, lies the ghost of a smile.)

”it’s been a while since i had earl grey.”

#something something geto being represented by a setting sun vs reader being represented by a rising sun…. u get the vibes. #this was supposed to be completely angsty but i got attached to the final line LOL. so now its just a tiiiiny bit hopeful #i mean hes still probably dying lets be honest but theres some room for interpretation if ur delulu like me #tbh the idea of geto continuing his genocidal agenda while casually having tea parties w/ reader on sundays is just.. INSANELY funny to me #every girlboss needs her selfcare day <3 #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #geto angst #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

[daenysx]

waiting for your comments and requests, hope you like this! prison era. NSFW.

send me your requests for drabbles

the realization hits hard.

not because he hates the facts, not because he thinks this is stupid.

but because he thinks he may not be strong enough to afford his feelings.

daryl dixon is in love with you.

maybe this is nothing new, it has been there for a long time, but he realizes it just now. you are standing there, leaning to the wall. your eyes look blurry, your hair a little messy, and you are wearing one of his old shirts.

"is tha' mine?" he asks, already aware of the answer.

you nod. "sorry, i took it without telling you but-"

he shakes his head quickly. "nah, it's fine. looks good."

you smile and his heart clenches. "thank you, daryl."

he tells you to keep the shirt. you accept happily, saying it's so comfortable. he smiles. he is in love.

the first time you accept your feelings for daryl, you have the shirt on you. he doesn't even know what to say, all he does is pulling you against his body a little harshly and kissing you breathless. you melt into the kiss, he smiles.

when he meets you in your cell, you are lying on the bed, wearing the famous shirt. you extend your hand, he comes to your side, kisses the back of your hand. you start a kiss that you never want to end, a kiss that feels so good it makes you feel like you are in the heaven instead of the apocalypse.

you try to take off your -his- shirt but he stops you. "wanna see it on ya." he keeps kissing you, takes off your panties instead. his clothes are next on the floor as he places himself on your body, careful not to crush you.

you have seen his scars before. you have touched them, kissed them better. he is relaxed, he knows you want him. he wants you, he wants everything with you.

"not gonna hurt ya, sunshine. hear tha'?"

you nod. "i trust you."

and it feels so good, to have someone so lovely as you, trusting him. trusting enough to close your eyes under him, part your legs to keep him, allow him to kiss you everywhere.

you moan, trying to be quiet. it's not so easy when he sucks a little bruise on your collarbone. "ya like tha'?"

you nod, again. "i like it when you-when you do that."

you must be a dream, he thinks. he gives you two more little marks, on your neck and on your collarbone again. you squirm under him and the action is so sweet he smiles against your lips as he kisses you.

the first time he touches your cunt, he almost loses it. you are wet- because of him. his fingers are coated with the sticky sweetness of yours and he takes them to his mouth like it's the greatest thing he ever tasted.

you blush when he sucks his fingers. "daryl, stop!"

he shrugs. "can't i have a taste of m' girl? so fucking sweet, yer a delicious little thing."

you kiss him again, taste yourself on his lips. "as much as i enjoy this, i need you to do something."

he smirks playfully. "yeah? wha' you need? tell me, an' it's yours."

you blush again. "daryl, please."

he pushes his cock inside you slowly, he is impossibly hard, it almost hurts. he exhales when he settles deep inside you, all tight and warm for him. you grab his shoulders, trying to move under him.

"shh, i'll take care of ya. tha' sound good? i'm here for ya, sweetheart."

he moves and moves and moves. he is relentless when he hits your g-spot, aware of the change in your reactions when he finds the spot. your fingers rub your clit as he moves inside you and for a moment you can't breathe.

he holds you through your orgasm. his head falls back as he comes, he knows you have morning after pills, and honestly he isn't strong enough to pull himself back.

he makes you come two more times that night.

and at the end, you are lying on his chest, all naked now. he smokes a cigarette, brings it to your lips sometimes. you are worn out, relaxed, and happy. his chest feels like the comfiest pillow you ever had, his fingers lightly massage your skin.

"i love you, daryl."

he closes his eyes as he confesses you back. it's hard but he can't possibly let his girl think her feelings aren't mutual.

"i love ya, sunshine."

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #daryl x reader #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon imagine