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#none of the losses felt like anything
proto-language · 3 months
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hrngnfghnfg
#just thinking aloud but#i dunno. kind of feel like the last Barrier between me and Normal Personness or whatever#is just. i feel so completely and utterly unable to feel empathy specifically with regards to children and childbearing and childrearing.#like. i have known ever since i was small that my parents lost other pregnancies before me and between me and my sister. and all i could#feel about that as a kid was 'thank god because i never wanted a sibling anyway' and 'uh well i never asked to be born soooo... so what'#and now as an adult. i know that it's a terrible thing to suffer a loss like that.#and i'd at least manage not to act inappropriately towards someone i knew if they were in that position.#but i still can't find any of the *feelings* about it.#which is strange because i usually feel Everything So Much.#i also still don't understand when people talk about like. instantly falling in love with their kid or whatever#like maybe i almost get it if it's a child you've gestated for nine months and then given birth to.#but i feel like people *must* be at least partially lying about it when it comes to things like adoption#because there'd be such a high psychological and social penalty to admitting that you felt anything less.#adoption in general drives me crazy like i cannot Believe that it's still just a really accepted alternative to having a biological child#when... any kid who has had to be removed from the circumstances into which they were born and given to new people#is surely going to be traumatised or have issues or however you want to put it.#and it can't possibly be the Same Thing as having a... fresh baby of your own.#anyway. i feel some sympathy for and plenty of logical understanding of children and parents.#but none of it makes sense to me on the level on which i usually connect with people.#and hell maybe everyone feels that way until they have a kid. in which case i think everyone#is wildly irresponsible for having those kids without knowing they're gonna like it or be good at it and hoping it'll just work out. lmao
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autoneurotic · 1 year
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i know i’ve talked about my horrifyingly vivid nightmares on here before (and definitely in therapy!) but like. how on earth do you stop them. i’m not anxious in my waking life, the anti anxiety/sleep medication i take just gives me different kinds of vivid nightmares. what’s a guy to do
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yandere-daydreams · 19 days
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tw - dub/con, afab!reader, cockwarming, medical malpractice, nonconsensual drug use, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, and obsessive behavior.
[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]
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“It really is a shame to lose such a lovely patient.
His hand drifted from your thigh to your hip, rocking you back as you tried to squirm away from him. He was too deep, too big, and you’d been sitting on his cock for too long. Whenever you tried to shift your weight, though, the arm wrapped around your waist would tighten its hold and drag you back into place, leaving your ass slotted against his hips and your cunt struggling to clench around his base. You didn’t know how long he’d kept you like this, but it must’ve been longer than an hour, if not two, three, four. Despite your foggy senses, you could feel slick dripping down your thighs, an empty void in the pit of your stomach where pleasure should’ve been. You could remember hearing that Harper was a good doctor, but that couldn’t be right. Doctors weren’t supposed to make you feel so bad.
“I mean, I know it should be a doctor’s goal to see their patients off as happy and as healthy as can be, but—” He paused, sighed, and you could picture him rolling his eyes, feigning wistfulness as he let out an airy chuckle. “Good, obedient patients can be so rare, especially in a town like this. I’m allowed to mourn the loss of my best charge yet, aren’t I?”
You felt him twitch inside of you, and in search of a distraction, your gaze fell to the collection of papers fanned out over the desk in front of you. You knew you were supposed to be reading them, but the text seemed so impossibly small, and your last round of medication was still clouding your senses, making it hard to focus on much of anything beyond the throbbing in your core, the feeling of his cock stretching you open despite your body’s best attempts to force him out. You could recognize the phrases, signal out words like ‘unfit’ and ‘dependent’ mixed in with the rest of the benign text, but when you tried to put it all together, none of it made sense. It was all you could do to check the boxes Harper pointed to, sign your name on any dotted lines that hadn’t already been filled by his. You could only hope that, when you finished, he’d let you stand up, get off of him, go back to your cozy room with its nice, soft padded walls. You couldn’t imagine having to sleep in his office, again.
“And you’ve been so cooperative, too,” he went on, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “Always taking your medication, always following your treatment plans, always coming to our little sessions with an open-mind – the pinnacle of an ideal patient. Honestly, sometimes I think I could tell you to stick your hand in a vat of boiling water, and you’d do it with a smile on your face. All for the sake of your recovery, of course.”
It was him moving, this time – shifting forward until your stomach was pressed against the blunt edge of his desk and he was all-but draped over you, his body pressed flush against yours. You let out a pitchy whine by way of protest, but Harper didn’t seem to notice, only humming as his hand found yours. “Almost done, little mouse. Just one more page.” He was practically cooing as he took you by the wrist, guiding your hand to the bottom of the final page. Two thick, cutting lines occupied most of the available space, his neat signature taking up the first. He brought you to the second, almost daunting in its vacancy, his index finger tapping against the back of your hand. “You remember your name, right? Can you write it for me?”
It was so hard to think, to stay awake, to try and remember a time where he hadn’t been planted so deeply inside of you. “If…” you started, only to trail off. You blinked once, then twice, and did your best to force your tongue to move. “If I do, can I go home?”
Usually, Harper hated it when you talked about the orphanage, about school, about home. You hadn’t meant to, you just wanted to go back to your room, and you moved to correct yourself, to promise that you didn’t want to be anywhere but this hospital, his hospital before he frowned and prescribed you another electrotherapy session, another dose of the small, white pills that left your thoughts blurred and your body hot. But, anything you might’ve been able to spit out died with a breathy laugh, a peck to the corner of your jaw. “Of course,” he purred, rocking his hips gently against yours. “Sign, and I’ll take you home tonight.”
For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to smile. Hastily, smudging the ink more than once, you scrawled your name across the brutal line, dropping the pen and going slack against Harper as soon as you were finished. There was another open-mouthed kiss to your throat, then the dip of your shoulder, and he dragged you back onto his lap with a playful squeeze to your thigh, a grin pressed into the crook of your neck. You squirmed unabashedly, now, your hands  graspingly weakly at the arms of his chair in hopes of pulling yourself to your feet, but Harper held you tight. “Where do you think you’re going, little mouse?”
“I need to— You said I could go—”
“Just give me another minute, darling.”
His cock pulsed against the walls of your cunt, and you felt something break open inside of you.
“I want to appreciate this moment before we get you to proper, brand-new home.”
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innerwomen · 2 months
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To the paparazzi.
Paring: Husband!Bruce Wayne x (batmom) F!Reader
SUMMARY: At a gala you hear reports negative comments towards you but you brush it off, but when someone mentions your children? Peace was never an option.
TYPE: angst with sweet revenge
WARNING: body shaming. Swearing. This takes place in the original DC AU the only difference is that COVID-19 also took place (quarantine).
Reminder: you are beautiful, so who gives a shit what they say? (If you have any requests, I would love to know!! Don’t be shy!)
“And next we have… Oh my god! It’s Bruce Wayne and wife Y/n Wayne! This is the first time we’ve seen them out in public since Covid-19 lockdown!” The reporter was just one of many people screaming, taking pictures or asking questions towards you and Bruce.
After two years or complete lockdown, Gothams elites were back at it again with the parties, galas, and charities. And as the wife of a socialist, you and Bruce had a lot of events to attend. You and your husband were making your way into the after party for the election of the Mayor, the one Barbara Gordon won. You had to admit you slightly missed the parties, and the music, and the social interactions. But god, you’ve always hated the paparazzi.
“While it looks like Mr.Wayne kept himself busy at the gym during quarantine, looks like Y/n was taking it easy.” You heard a reporter say as she looked you over, judging.
“Seems like we are going to be seeing a weight loss journey from Mrs.Wayne coming soon. Hopefully.” Another snarking comment.
You heard the comments, they wanting you to hear them. Bruce heard them too; it was bothering him and he wanted to say something about it. “Y/n, give me the word and I swear- those people won’t have a job in three lifetimes.”
“Bruce, don’t let it get to you, I don’t. I couldn’t give two shits what those people say about me, what do they know? I look good, and I feel good.” Though you were appreciative, you didn’t need Bruce to defend you. When you were younger, you probably would have let those comments get to you, but as you’ve matured, you realize, no one can pay you enough to care what people think.
You and Bruce were at the end of the carpet and about to make your way inside the building when suddenly you hear, “If this is her, I would hate to see how her sons have gotten. The once handsome Wayne sons, may have let themselves go, and their daughter? She was chubby to begin with, imagine her now….!”
You’re furious, you couldn’t believe somebody had the actual audacity to speak about your children that way. Literal children. You were all about ‘not letting it get to you’ but messing with someone kids? That’s a whole different story.
You let go of Bruce’s hand and grab the woman by the shirt collar, “Listen hear, I couldn’t care less about what you say about me…” you bring her closer, “but if you ever say anything about my children again; I will pull your tongue out of your mouth, drag it around your neck, and strangle you with it.” You keep eye contact the whole time, letting her know, you aren’t playing around. “Do you understand?”
“Y-yes… sorry….” You felt her quiver. Good.
You let go of her and she immediately collapses onto the ground. You walk back to Bruce, grasp his hand and walk inside. “Are we going to act like… none of that just happened?” Bruce asked as he glanced down at you.
“She’s so lucky this dress is tight, if not, I would have punched her so hard in the vocal cords she’d become mute.” You say irritated.
“I think she’s learned her lesson, honey. Let’s get you a drink.” He smiles as he walks you over to the bar. “By the way,” his voice drops and he whispers to you, “that was so hot, seeing you put her in her place.”
You felt your cheeks blush and you shoo him, “Just get me my drink.”
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xythlia · 5 months
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𓏲 ࣪₊➷ CAN I GET A KISS, CAN YOU MAKE IT LAST FOREVER?
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› thinking about being the cute younger teacher & how much of a determined freak satoru would become learning ur a virgin idk he's ruining the idea of any other man for u babe
› satoru x f!reader
› word count : 2.5k+
warnings : loss of virginity, porn with a dash of plot if u squint, unprotected sex, cervix fucking, fingering, biting/hickies, alcohol consumption, praise, use of pretty girl/baby, not edited I needed to get this out of me like a possession victim getting an exorcism
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You decided Satoru Gojo was a pervert.
It was made all the more embarrassing by the fact that you were a virgin, wholly inexperienced and totally at the mercy of his unending teasing. The little jabs he'd manage to work into conversation, or that he'd say in passing with that particularly cheery tone. It always made your chest burn hot with a strange mixture of desire and discomfort.
You should've never said yes to going out with the other instructors for a drink that night. Should've said something, anything when Ieiri burst out with "holy shit, you are a virgin aren't you?" but instead you'd drunkenly shied away, eyes wobbly and looking anywhere but at your fellow teachers.
It was all the confirmation he needed.
The days that followed made you think surely you should schedule a check up, Saturo without a doubt had a negative impact on the levels of cortisol in your brain but at the same time when you'd wearily collapse in bed at night he was still on your mind. Those whispered, teasing jokes about your lack of experience stuck on loop in your brain paired with thoughts of how experienced he must be in contrast.
Would he work your body over in ways that would make you sob into your pillow? The loose image of it alone was enough to leave you with a sore clit as your eyes drifted closed, your fingers still slick as his voice curled around your brain to drag you off into dreams so depraved they made you sweat getting dressed in the morning, feeling embarrassed about having to look him in the face during the day.
A part of you wished, again, that you'd have said no to getting another drink with him. Shouldn't have giggled like a school girl at the suggestion of coming back home with him, shouldn't have so brazenly straddled his lap while the faint aftertaste of gin clung to your lips as his tongue mapped your own in a sloppy, burning kiss.
The way his body was still so completely relaxed beneath your tense one intimidated you. You felt embarrassed at the idea of how awkward and jerky your movements must be, sure you'd kiss before but never with someone who so clearly wanted to devour you whole. It was comforting though that his hands didn't stray from your waist, as if he was acutely aware of your anxiety. Although the way his lithe fingers drew circles against your skin, slipped beneath your shirt, and dug into your flesh still made your hands shake against his chest.
"Sa-" you started to say his name but the breath was snatched from your lungs in another heated kiss, the way he overrode each of your senses.
Sliding his tongue past your lips again, somehow in the same lighthearted way he'd teased you. When his hands drifted down, out from your shirt, under your skirt to trace the hem of your panties against your ass you froze.
Without you needing to say anything he pulled back, and a fresh tidal wave of anxiety beat against your mind. You know he's hard, can feel it pressing against you through your clothes. He was the first man to hold you, touch you, make you feel like you'd swallowed hot embers that now seared low in your tummy.
You suddenly felt burdensome, ridiculous for instigating something you weren't sure you could finish. Guilt also mingled in your head, it was hardly fair to go through all this set up just to back out at the last second. Would he be upset with you?
You caught your bottom lip in your teeth, eyes searching his catastrophic blue ones for signs of upset. But none existed there, only meeting your gaze plainly and with an air of calm, like he knew this was going to happen.
Shyly you averted your eyes, holding contact with him for too long made your liquor buzzed brain feel like static shocks were rolling over it. Your breathing hitched as you whispered in the half dark.
"You... you can touch me."
The silence was deafening, making your palms grow damp.
You caught his blue eyes widening in faux shock, a lazy grin dancing across his lips. "Really? Can I touch you there?"
Your ears burned in humiliation as you pouted at him. "Don't say it like that!"
Your indignation was cut off into a small yelp as he manhandled you into sitting with your back pressed against his chest. Your head spun as he wiggled your panties down, inch by inch, fingers leaving scorched trails on your thighs. His arm came to rest against your tummy, one hand still at your thigh as he spread your legs with his.
His breath fanning against the back of your neck made gooseflesh rise across your arms.
"W-wait," you stammered.
He hummed over your shoulder, his voice dripping with arousal. "What now, hm?"
It would make you more nervous if you couldn't hear the smile in his voice.
"Wanna take care of you," you say leaning your head back so you could see more of his face. Satorus eyes were full of amusement.
"Do you know how to, pretty girl?" His hand caressed the underside of your jaw, thumb swiping across your lips.
"Sorta," you mumbled, chest feeling fuzzy at the thought, vaguely recalling porn you'd watched forever ago.
"Sorta?" He snickered. "What happens if you choke huh?"
Your mind went as fuzzy as your chest, something told you hes hardly the type to exaggerate his size. That and you could feel his erection pressing into your back.
"Pinky promise I won't choke," you whisper, making yourself breathless already imagining what he'd look like in your hands.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," he spoke against the shell of your ear sending shivers down your spine. "There's plenty of time."
His words were punctuated by feather light swipes of his index against your inner thigh, making you jump in his hold. Your breathing sped up, eyes fluttering closed and you gasped as his fingertips ghosted through your slick arousal, spreading your folds before concentrating on your clit.
It felt like a live wire pressed against you, tearing a sharp gasp from your lungs as you fought the urge to snap your legs closed. Meek whimpers rose in your throat as he barely circled around your clit, pressing soft kisses to your temple as your back arched ever so slightly away from his chest.
"Feels good?" He hummed against your skin.
You couldn't articulate words to answer with because at the same time he slipped his index inside you, so slowly you could feel his knuckles sliding past the ring of muscle as your body eagerly accepted the intrusion.
If you had the wherewithal you might have been embarrassed at how badly your legs shook with just that little taste, but thanks to his ministrations there was no room inside your head for anything except how good he made you feel. Gingerly he started stroking against your slick walls, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed on his lap and inadvertently pressed your ass down firmly against his painfully hard erection.
A breathy laugh came from above your head as he slid in the second finger, your hazy eyes seeing hungry amusement dancing in his own. Your lips parted, one hand coming to clutch his forearm in a tight grip but he never slowed the scissoring of his fingers inside you.
"Can't use your words?," he teased.
"Want more," you gasped out as your hips began rolling in fits and starts, awkwardly trying to chase more stimulation from him.
"Lemme take care of you, yeah?" He said as he pulled his fingers away. The absence of him made you whine again in response, but you didn't have time to pout as he helped you ease onto your back, his deft hands helping to strip you and toss your clothes somewhere across the room.
The only thing left on you was the pencil skirt you'd worn out, now bunched up around your abdomen as you laid in the dark, eyes taking him in as he pulled off his shirt, the blindfold also yanked from his neck and lost to the carnivorous floor.
This time it was you playing the role of pervert, eyes wide and drinking in the sight of him from chest to abs to the waist of his pants barely showing the top of his hips. Leaning back he undid the fabric confines with quick movements, letting his cock spring free to lightly slap against his abdomen. Your throat suddenly felt parched taking in his pretty, flushed tip as his hand gave a few quick pumps but his lilting voice snapped you out of your trance.
"That face your making's pretty lewd," you knew he was teasing again, seeing his teeth flash in the half dark as he came down to brace his arms on either side of your head. "It's actually really damn hot."
Your toes curled from the embarrassment at being caught ogling him so nakedly but who could blame you? You could tell from his grin he knew he was attractive, enjoyed making you drool over him.
You let out an content sigh while tilting your head back against the pillows as you felt his cock start to grind against you. The feeling of his weight on you was intoxicating on its own but you were itching for him, impatient to feel him inside you, eager to know exactly how he felt.
His fingers reached down again to spread your folds, middle finger swirling around in your slick. "You're already such a mess." He almost held a tone of awe.
He kissed his way from your cheek to your lips, grinning into the kiss as you spread your legs wider in restless anticipation. Using one hand he dragged your arms to lace behind his neck, resituating himself as he felt your fingers dig into his back already.
"Hold on to me." He could've told you to dive head first into the Pacific and you would've without thought. Satoru pressed another soft kiss to your forehead, a reassurance as you felt the first stitches of pain as the head of his cock nudged its way past your entrance. Your head tipped back, pressing against the pillow as your mouth dropped open.
Your cunt instantly clamped down on him, earning a few pants as he pressed his face against the side of your neck.
"You gotta relax, baby," he whispered raggedly against your ear.
You whimpered. "Can't-"
"You okay? Need you to look at me." He cooed, nudging his nose against yours until you opened your eyes already swimming with tears.
"S'okay, you know I got you, right?"
You nodded, feeling every bit like a crybaby as you clung to his shoulders. You cried out again as he pressed deeper, feeling your rigid walls relax into a smooth, throbbing pulse around him as he slowly bottomed out inside you. Your chest felt heavy, mind somewhere beyond empty as you reveled in just how full he made you feel, your nerves alight feeling him nudging against your cervix.
The pain ebbed with your every exhale, your pussy easing up on its stranglehold letting him know he could move.
"Knew you were a good girl," his light praises made your nails scratch against his warm skin. "Gonna take it all, right?"
His lips devoured yours before you could respond, nipping at your bottom lip before marking a sloppy trail down the column on your throat.
"Wanna hear you make those pretty noises again, can you do that for me?" He spoke between each hot press of his lips against your skin. It felt like you were on fire, doused in sweat and helpless against the feeling of him rocking against your hips.
Little did you know it would be ingrained in his head forever, the feeling of you clenched around him and practically dripping down his twitching balls.
Your hand slid up to tangle in his hair as he found a rhythm, slow deep thrusts that tore moans from deep down in your diaphragm. The smack of his hips against yours made you feel like you were melting apart in a sticky puddle, like hardened sugar powerless to warm water.
The sound of skin smacking felt dreamlike and far away as your eyes screwed shut, fingers tugging at his snowy locks.
Stickiness spreads, hot and thick, throughout your body turning your mind into a sluggish mess and you swore you could feel your heartbeat through your entire body, thrumming in time with every one of Satorus thrusts.
"Fuck," he groaned, "You really know how to get me going." He was unabashedly thrilled to be the one to reduce you to a teary moaning mess, the very first to ever witness it. Equally exciting was the thought that he was the one getting to mold you to his cock, claim you and make sure nobody else could ever make you feel as good.
Your voice was cracking, wobbly on the verge of wailing and you dragged him down to you, frantic lips on any patch of skin you could reach before sinking your teeth into his shoulder after a particularly brutal thrust had him hitting you just right, enough to make stars dance behind your eyelids.
As your pussy clamped down again one of his hands slid down to roughly circle your aching clit, making you squeal and release his shoulder. Rough groans rose from his lips, tongue lapping at the now blooming red splotches on your neck from his previous nips to the skin.
"Gonna make sure I'm the only one who can take care of you."
His words barely reached your ears as you sobbed feeling something like pressure pop deep inside your tummy, wailing his name like a prayer all the whole his fingers never left your clit and his hips never slowed, fucking you through your orgasm.
"Hold on baby, I gotta pull out-"
"No," you hiccuped, delirium curling through the word and making his head drop, teeth gritting feeling your slick heat sucking him back in and your legs locked around his hips.
Your distant, glassy eyes and sweat sheened skin made the case for you, he wasn't going to deny you, the pretty little thing blubbering for him so sweetly against the mattress. But his right mind won out, pulling out at the last second to give himself a few harsh pumps before spilling hot and thick across your belly.
Your unfocused eyes watched him stroke himself dry, feeling the slick mess between your thighs and the little pin pricks of soreness along your throat. It took some time to feel like you'd regained any control of your body, bones feeling more like jello as Satoru toweled you off.
That amused grin stayed lodged on his face as he laid beside you, pulling you over so you were curled against his side.
You whined, small and cracked as your hand rested against his chest, the steady beat of his heart helping to ground you.
"What's the matter?" He mused, dragging his fingers up and down your back. "Can't do anything unless you tell me."
As you mumbled your request, eyes closed and avoiding his gaze, he broke out into a cocky laugh.
"There's always next time, don't worry your pretty little head."
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dreaming-medium · 1 day
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No Contact
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Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader
Word Count: 7.6k
Tags: ANGST with a happy ending, amnesia, memory loss, grief, pining, yearning, hurt/comfort
Summary: It was one of the worst car accidents the city has seen. You weren't supposed to be in that car, but you were. When you lose your memories from the incident, Chan is ordered to stay away for your recovery's sake; but it takes a larger toll on him than anyone could have imagined. Until one day, he just can't take it anymore.
A/N: inspired by this post. Angst ahoy <3 I had too much fun writing this. Maybe I like writing emotions. Enjoy <3
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No contact. That’s what Chan was told was best for you. That’s what was going to help your healing process. 
No contact whatsoever. No texts, no calls, no little surprise visits. No fucking contact. None. 
He was told it would just hurt you if he talked to you— that he would just make it worse. That you would only become more confused and upset. It would be absolutely detrimental for him to see you.
Hell, it might even make you worse. 
It’s killing Chan slowly. Every single day feels like torture for him. The days get exponentially worse. He feels like a hollow shell of his former self, like the wind goes through him when he steps foot outside. It feels like his shoulders are permanently sagged forward. 
But the worst part is that you don’t even know it. You don’t know how he’s collapsing inwards like a dying star. 
It was one of the worst car accidents the city has seen in years. A friend was driving you home that night; Chan had begged to be the one to pick you up, but no, you said it was fine, the friend was heading that way anyway. Why make the unnecessary trip?
You told him he needed sleep. Always putting his needs before your own. You always did. 
He should’ve put up more of a fuss. He should’ve put his foot down. He should’ve already been outside the house in his car with the passenger seat warmer on by the time you left that stupid party. 
He should’ve gotten out of the car and opened the door for you and had a cold bottle of water waiting in the cup holder. He should’ve kissed you on the cheek and asked you all about your time. He should have been there.
But he wasn’t. 
A drunk driver slammed into the passenger side of your friend’s car at a speed that you shouldn’t have even survived.
Miracles do happen, though. But what a price to pay for a miracle. 
For as long as he lives, Chan will never forget the sheer panic and terror he felt when the call came in from your mother. You were already at the hospital undergoing emergency surgery.
He was the last to know. 
After all, he wasn’t your emergency contact. He’s only your boyfriend.
Was. Was your boyfriend. Was? Is that the right word? He isn’t. But he is. There was no breakup. 
Is that what he’s going through right now? A breakup? 
You’re not on a break. But what is this? What is this loss? This severance is so horrible. 
It’s fucked up. It’s a fucked up, amnesia induced breakup. 
Memory loss is a funny thing. Doctors scratch their heads and shrug their shoulders without any answers. The brain is a tricky thing. 
Chan did what he was allowed to in that hospital. He sat in that stark white room under those harsh LED lights and he waited until you were awake. He even waited much longer after that because only two visitors were permitted inside your room at a time— and he wasn’t about to force his way in and kick one of your parents out. 
He let your sister go in first. He even let your cousin go in before him. But when it was finally his turn… 
He never got to see you. 
“The last five years?” Chan asked with a tight throat. Did he even have any more tears left to cry? How is there any liquid left in his body?
“She says doesn’t remember anything, Chan.” Your mother’s voice was just as hollow as his. “She was asking about her freshman roommate.”
A doctor stood in between him and your mom. “It’s best if we don’t throw everything at her at once. Amnesia victims rarely never get their memories back, but we’ve found that it needs to happen organically. Seeing her will overwhelm her and that could stunt the healing process.”
Chan’s mouth opened and closed several times but no words came out at all. His heart may have stopped. 
Does that mean…?
No…
“He can’t see her at all?” Your mother asked quietly. “Not even to visit? He doesn’t have to mention he’s her boyfriend, he can just say that he’s a friend, or a coworker, or—“
The doctor cut her off. “No contact. Not until we’re a bit through recovery and she’s starting to get her memories back.”
Chan was suddenly in a chair. 
When did he sit down? The Doctor’s hands were on his shoulders and he was looking down at him with a sympathetic stare.  
“It’s not forever, son.”
Chan was only able to nod. His mouth was so dry, the back of his neck felt clammy. His head was spinning.
Books often speak of moments as ‘Earth-shattering’. Of moments so catastrophic that the planet stops spinning on its axis and time stands still.
He gets it now. 
The doctor spoke a few more words to your mother before walking away. She looked down at Chan sadly. 
Your mother sat on the chair next to him and wrapped him up in a hug. His world was falling apart around him. You were slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t even see you.
Hot tears poured down his face while he sat there with his head in his hands. Why does it feel like he’s losing you? Why is this the only way? Why are these the cards that are being dealt?
Why didn’t he pick you up from that fucking party?
“She loves you, Chan… she’ll come to her senses, I promise, I promise.”
It’s been two months, one week, two days and eight hours since he’s talked to you. That long since he’s known peace. Since he’s known any sort of comfort. 
You’re the last thing he thinks about before he closes his eyes at night and the first thing he thinks about in the morning. No matter how many times he wakes up and feels the cold bed next to him, it never dulls the ache in his chest.
It’s not a healthy mindset, he knows. And it’s not that you were codependent on one another, that’s not it at all. You were just… ripped away from him. 
Food has no taste. The sky isn’t as blue as it used to be. Clouds don’t make fun shapes like they did with you by his side. The stars are still in the sky, he thinks, he hasn’t had the guts to look at them. 
God, you love the stars so much. You always talked about how pretty they are— how absolutely breath-taking you think the universe is. Chan would simply listen, he would always listen. All he ever wanted to do was listen.
How is he supposed to look at anything the same way? How is any day supposed to be normal when half of his life is suddenly missing. What’s the point of making music if you’re not there to listen to it?
5:00 PM is the hardest hour to get through. You don’t open the door to his apartment when you get off work. You don’t tell him about the things that happened during your shift. 
He can’t leave little snacks out on the counter for you to eat when you get home like he used to. 
Mice would get to it before you did. 
His lonely apartment is slowly losing your smell. He could spray your perfume, sure, you keep a bottle at his place, but it’s not the same. You somehow made the scent sweeter by letting it linger on your skin. 
All of your old toiletries are still there where you left them. Your spare toothbrush has been bone dry and untouched since 9:28 AM that morning. Your shampoo bottles are still half full and waiting for you on your shower shelf.
It had rained a few days before your accident. You had started a puzzle on his dining room table that day– you told him it was the perfect rainy day activity. It was a picture of different comic book covers. It’s now collecting dust. Unmoved and unsolved. 
Just like him.
It was a battle and a half to throw away your leftovers from two nights before your car accident. He felt like he was throwing away your normal life, your tiny domestic traces. 
He didn’t want to cleanse you from his life, but you were washing away. Your ghost was eroding with time. 
Your spare car keys are still hanging on the key ring. Your rain coat is on the third hook draped right over your work bag. Even your phone charger is still plugged into the wall on your side of the bed.
Did you know you forgot to put your favorite gold earrings on that night? You left them on the nightstand. They’re still there, don’t worry. Right next to the glass of water you drank half of. 
Do you even remember them…? He got them for you for your first Christmas together. 
There are so many signs of a life interrupted integrated so deeply into his. 
You’re a clock whose hands stopped suddenly at 1:24 AM. 
This sort of haunting is unbearable. You’re not a phantom in his life, though. You’re something so unattainable that he had once but it was taken away with empty promises of return. 
It’s like you’re a shiny diamond hidden away beneath lasers and traps like in those stupid, cheesy spy movies you love so much. 
Do you know what he would give to watch one of those with you in his arms right now? 
Chan feels like he’s banging on the glass of a one sided window, screaming for you to remember him. Meanwhile you’re on the other side only staring into a mirror, trying to pick up the pieces from before. 
Your mom sends him updates on your condition all the time. He knows that you started working at the local library about three weeks ago. 
You had worked there in college before graduating and getting your last job. It was one of your favorite jobs you ever had. That library was so special to you. 
To him too. 
It’s the library where he first met you. 
The same library Chan finds himself in front of now. 
He shouldn’t go in. He can’t go in. He absolutely should not go inside. 
Bang Chan you should not and cannot go inside this library. Under no circumstances should you step foot inside this building where your other half is working. 
Absolutely not. 
The door emits a soft ding when he opens it. Electronic. Quiet. Peaceful. 
There’s a certain type of silence that sits in a library. It’s closer, thicker— warmer. It’s an expected silence. They’re supposed to be quiet. 
Chan can hear his sneakers take every step on the carpeted floor. There’s no one sitting behind the front desk; that’s where you usually were. 
His eyes look all around, but there’s no sign of you anywhere. A few people toddle around the shelves. 
There’s more soft beeping coming from the self checkout. That’s new. They didn’t have that when you worked here years ago. You probably hate it. 
On the day he met you, you were wearing a pair of dark green pants and a black long sleeve shirt. Your hair was clipped behind your head and pieces were falling over your face. 
Chan was only in the library to look for the bathroom. He was on his way to lunch with a friend, but he just had to stop somewhere. The library was the closest option. 
When he had heard the sound of books falling, he investigated and found you in the center of the carnage, the glasses on your nose sat crookedly and you rubbed your head. 
Your eyes met. He was a goner. 
How disgustingly poetic that he finds himself here now. Where he really shouldn’t be. He was quite literally prescribed a restraining order against you. 
Chan meanders around with his hands in his pockets, the silence getting louder and louder the further he gets inside.
Maybe you’re not working today? 
No one is anywhere to be seen. He’s checking down all the aisles but he doesn’t see you anywhere. 
Maybe it’s for the best that you’re not here. He’s not supposed to see you anyway. He’s breaking the doctor’s rules by doing this anyway. 
He needs to leave. He needs to get out of here. 
His feet stop in front of the very aisle where he saw you for the first time. 
Empty. 
You-less. 
If he thinks hard enough, Chan can picture you in front of him, laughing quietly with the most adorable, embarrassed blush on your cheeks. 
What a moment. 
Is it possible to spend eternity in that moment? Obviously internal clocks can be rewound, paused, flipped every which way; can he go back to that day? Can he go back to the day where every single poem suddenly made sense?
He would take any day, really, any day that had you in it. Birthdays, holidays, late night dates, Hell, he’d even take a day where he only saw you when you dropped off a drink for him in his studio. 
Anything, he would take anything just to see your smile bloom on your face while he watches.
“Can I help you find something?”
His breath catches in his throat, it feels like he’s physically punched in the chest. That voice. That beautiful, melodic voice. He hasn’t heard it in person in months, only in videos he had on his phone. 
Slowly, Chan turns to face the source of his favorite pitch. 
His throat immediately tightens. 
There you are. You. Beautiful you. 
Standing right there. Looking at him like a complete fucking stranger. 
“I…” his voice is hoarse. Chan can feel the tears in his eyes begin to form. He didn’t think this through, did he?
You’re staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to say anything. You’re waiting, come on, Chan. Speak up. Say something. 
Looking up at the shelf, you look back down at him with a smile. “A history guy, hm?”
No.
“Yeah.”
You giggle. “I always had a thing for History.”
He knows. 
“Really?”
“Mhmm.” You respond with a grin. 
Specifically Ancient Rome. He knows. 
You continue. “Specifically Ancient Rome.”
Chan nods and clears his throat. His palms feel so sweaty. His chest is almost panting. Every single cell in his body just wants to lunge forward and wrap you in a hug. 
He wants to bury his face in your neck and sob while you hold him. He wants to tell you that he missed you so much. He wants to tell you how your pillow is losing the scent of your shampoo. He wants to tell you that he’s been DVR-ing your favorite show so that you can watch it later. He wants to tell you about his day. He wants to kiss you until you’re breathless. He wants you to hear the new song he’s been working on.
But—
“If you need anything, let me know.”
You start to walk away.
Chan feels his heart physically break. It’s happening again. He’s on the other side of that one way mirror. It’s happening again! No, no please. 
His eyes widen, the words get caught in his throat. Fuck, Y/N, please!
“W-Wait!” he says quickly. 
You turn around with a curious look. 
“The Odyssey,” he blurts. “Where uh… where can I find it?”
Your eyes light up. “Oh, I love The Odyssey.”
He knows. You collect different translations of it. 
“I collect different translations of that book, here I’ll show you where it is.”
With a little hop in your step you lead him towards all the classics. 
He watches you like you’re an oasis in the desert— maybe it’s because you are. You’re what he’s been crawling towards for two months. 
You lead him all the way to the shelf where the Odyssey lives. Your nimble fingers reach forward and grab one of the copies. 
Green nail polish. You still paint your nails green. You picked that habit up a year after he met you. 
The memories have to be there, Y/N, they have to be. Chan bought you that first bottle of green nail polish as a joke on Saint Patrick’s Day. 
Y/N, please. 
“This translation is my favorite,” you whisper and hand him the book. 
Chan smiles sadly and takes the book from you, unable to meet your eyes. He knows if he gazes into those gorgeous eyes that he’ll lose it. He’ll fall to his knees and cry. 
“Thank you,” he whispers back. 
You stand there for a moment, he can feel your eyes on his face. He always has been able to tell when you were looking at him, it’s a little, secret superpower. 
From foot to foot, your weight shifts. 
You only do that when you’re confused. Why are you confused? Y/N, are you confused?
“I’m sorry…” you start, sounding so unsure. “You remind me of someone…”
It feels like a defibrillator was hooked up to his chest. Chan’s eyes widen and he finally looks up at you. 
You’re looking at him so carefully. He can see the gears turning in your head. Your tongue pokes out of your lips and wets them. 
Y/N, please. 
“I just… I can’t figure out who. Do I… do I know you? I was—” You stop yourself. 
Fuck. Fuck! What was he supposed to say? Fuck! 
Chan wants to scream. He wants to grab you by the shoulders and cry that he’s your soulmate, that he’s the person that knows you better than anyone else in this world. 
Yes, you do, you do know him. And he knows you. He knows how you take your coffee, what movies make you cry, what color jell-o is your favorite. 
He knows that you never wear matching socks and you always lift your feet when driving over railroad tracks. 
He knows that when you were 6 you ran into the corner of a cabinet and that’s how you got that scar next to your eyebrow. 
Chan knows that your entire life you wanted to be an author but you’re so scared of failure that you decided not to chase after it. 
He knows everything. 
“I just have one of those faces, I guess.” It comes out of his mouth so strained. 
You stare back at him so carefully. Do you see right through him?
“Maybe,” you say slowly. You don’t believe him. He knows that tone. You absolutely do not believe a word he’s saying. “Are you sure?”
Chan swallows, he grips the book in his hand tighter. The lump in his throat almost doesn’t go down, more tears prick at his eyes. 
“I would never forget a face like yours,” he chokes out. 
Your eyes widen and you blush, looking to the side with a smile. You always were a sucker for cheesy compliments. 
After thinking for a second, you reach into your pocket and take out a little slip of paper. 
“Here,” you say after scribbling something down. Holding it out, Chan sees it’s your phone number. He has it memorized. “If you ever need more books to read… or find… call me.”
Chan takes the paper with a racing heart. He gives you a smile, his dimples showing. “I think I will,” he whispers to you. 
Another few moments pass of you just staring at him before you nod and giggle nervously. “Well, I gotta get back to work, so..”
Chan nods and moves to the side. You walk past him. 
Your perfume curls around him like a blanket and he craves that sweet serenity he finds when he holds you close and breathes you in. 
Three steps after you pass him, you turn around. “Oh, I didn’t catch your name.”.
“Chan,” he answers softly. 
“Chan,” you repeat. It goes right through him. 
Your voice. Your sweet, beautiful, melodic voice. Finally, he heard you say his name again.
“I’m Y/N,” you whisper to him with a friendly smile. 
“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Chan has to physically force the word ‘meet’ out of his mouth. 
“You too, Chan.”
And with that, you were gone, retreating back into your fortress of papyrus. 
—————————————————————
A bad idea was going into the library that day. 
An even worse idea was texting you the day after to ask how your day is going. 
And then an absolutely fucking idiotic move was asking if you wanted to go to dinner with him. 
And the worst part? You said yes. 
So, now here Chan was, standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom getting ready for what you thought was a first date, but to him was just a dinner date. 
How is he supposed to do this? He’s not, that’s how. 
Chan fiddles with his bracelet right before his phone rings. 
His heart drops when he sees the caller ID, your mother. 
“Ah, fuck…” he whispers before grabbing his phone. Of course you were going to tell your mom, you tell your mom everything. 
“Hello?” he asks warily into the phone. 
“Hi, Chan,” she says slowly, she sounds nervous, why does she sound nervous. 
“How are you? Is everything okay?”
“It’s Y/N…” Her voice lowers. Chan’s heart drops. “Before you panic, she’s okay! It’s um.. she’s getting ready right now… for a date…”
Chan isn’t moving. Yes, he knows you are. He knows it. But words won’t form in his mouth. 
“Channie.. I’m starting to wonder if that doctor isn’t right.. I can’t stand the thought of her finding someone else when you’re waiting for her… I tried to talk her out of it but she just seems so floaty and happy. God, I feel sick to my stomach.”
His jaw clenches. Now or never. 
“It’s with me,” he blurts. 
Your mom goes silent. Then a huge sigh comes out of her mouth. 
“I wish I could say I’m angry,” a little laugh follows it. “I think I’m only angry that you didn’t say something.”
He tells her everything, down to the way he pretended not to know you. 
“Well, you’re going to have to tell her eventually.” Your mom sounds unsure, herself. 
“Or maybe she’ll remember me.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
Chan sits down on the edge of his bed. His eyes are staring at the wall, unfocused. 
She’s right. What if you don’t? 
“Then, I’ll just … do it all again.”
Silence greets him on the other side of the line. Another tiny laugh comes from your mom. “I always knew you two were perfect together. Just like two magnets, you always come towards one another.”
—————————————————————
“I’ve never eaten here before,” you say with a chipper smile on your face from across the table. 
Yes, you have. 
“Really?” Chan asks, taking a sip of his water. 
“I pass it all the time and always wondered how the food was.”
He looks back down at the old menu. 
This restaurant was more than special to him. It’s where he took you on your first date. It’s an old fashioned burger joint with the greasiest, most delicious French fries in town. 
The first time you guys came here, you talked and talked until the place closed. And even after that, you drove around and talked until it was late. 
“I’ve been here a few times, it’s really good. The milkshakes are some of the best I’ve ever had.” Chan’s sweaty hands fiddle with the menu. 
He’s more nervous now than on the first date. 
“What’s the best one?” you ask with a smile. 
A small laugh comes out of his nose. “The peanut butter one.”
It was your favorite. 
“Yeah but then you can’t have any,” you say so nonchalantly, looking down at the menu. 
His eyebrows knit together. “What?”
“‘Cause of your allergy.”
He stops. 
You stop. 
He has a peanut allergy. Chan has a peanut allergy. 
His lips purse like he’s going to say something but you beat him to the punch. 
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I… I don’t know why I thought that.” Your hands grip the menu a little tighter. “Maybe I’m thinking of someone else?”
Chan shakes his head. “No, no, it’s okay. I… I do have a peanut allergy. Maybe I said something before?”
You stare at him for a long second before looking back down at the menu once more. “Yeah… um. Maybe.”
He definitely did not say something. 
Dinner continues on. Chan listens to you talk and pretends he’s never heard your stories before and he tells you ones he knows he’s said before. 
The entire time, you were beaming at him, just like you used to before the accident. Your face never loses its constant happy glow. He’s not sure that the muscles in your face know how to frown.  
You’re the last two people in the restaurant. The staff doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe they recognize you both. Maybe. 
A lull dips into your conversation. Both of you know you should leave. Neither wants to. Especially the broken man sitting across from you. 
Chan takes the last sip of his drink. The bill has been paid for about an hour at this point. You’re looking down at your lap with a pink flush on your cheeks. 
You bite your lip and look up at Chan carefully. 
“Are you… are you sure I don’t know you, Chan?”
He stares at you. Did you know that you always bite your lip like that when you’re confused? 
“I just… I really feel like I know you. There’s just…” you pause, trying to find your words. He knows you want to tell him about the accident. He knows you want to say it but you don’t want to weird him out. 
What the fuck is he supposed to do? What is he supposed to tell you? 
“Something happened to me a little while ago, my brain’s been… fuzzy since then,” you explain shyly. “I know you said you don’t know me but I just… I can’t help feel like that’s not true.”
Chan’s jaw clenches, his knee bounces anxiously underneath the table. His head turns to the side in his typical nervous tick. 
Your mother’s words echo in his mind, his tongue suddenly feels like it’s swelling to the size of his mouth— making him unable to speak. Should he tell you? Is it now or never?
“I don’t mean to make it weird, Chan.”
He licks his lips and opens his mouth. 
Your phone rings. 
A sigh of relief comes from deep within Chan’s chest. 
Reluctantly, you pick up the phone and hold it to your ear. “Hello? …. No, I didn’t know…. Yeah, of course…. Sure… Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
Just as quickly as you answered the phone, you hang up. 
“Sorry,” you mumble. “Someone called out of work for tomorrow, they need me to come in.”
“Do you need to get going?” Chan asks, looking down at the time. It’s well past 10 o’clock. 
A sad smile crosses your face. “I mean… probably.” The time on your watch flashes back at you. He can tell you don’t want to go home yet. 
“Come on, Y/N, I’ll walk you home.”
Chan’s already standing up from the table, picking his jacket up off the back of his chair. You watch his movements and slowly get up, your movements screaming reluctance. 
—————————————————————
It’s three dates later when the two of you are walking down the street towards your house. It’s only a few blocks from here, but you both decide to take a tiny detour through the local park. 
“I have to say I’m a little excited to meet your friends,” you giggle. “I hope that’s not weird.”
You already have. 
“It’s not weird at all. I’m sure they’d like you.” Chan nudges your arm with his elbow, his hands staying in his pocket. 
“Changbin sounds like a blast.”
He was your favorite before.
“The two of you…” Chan thinks over his words carefully. “The two of you would definitely cause some mischief.”
And you have. 
A tiny lull of comfortable silence falls over the conversation. 
Both of you meander towards the swings. A cold wind blows through the air but neither of you react to it. 
With a tiny giggle, you sit down on one of the swings and hold onto the chains on the side. 
You are just so… you. You’re just your authentic self. Amnesia or not, you haven’t changed a bit. It’s so charming.
“I can’t remember the last time I went on the swings.” You start to move your body back and forth, not too much but enough to get the tiny thrill the toy brings. 
Chan walks up and stands next to you, his hand coming out and grabbing at the chain of the swing next to yours. 
The brightest smile stretches over your face. 
God, it really doesn’t take a lot to make you smile, does it? He guesses that means it doesn’t take a lot for him either since he smiles when you do.
He can’t help it.
He watches you move back and forth, the cold breeze kicking up a bit more and blowing dead leaves across the sidewalk. 
“What’s wrong, Chan? Allergic to swings?” you tease. 
He rolls his eyes with a smirk. “No, I just far more enjoy watching you have fun.”
Your cheeks flush. If he didn’t know you, maybe he would’ve chocked it up to the cold. But he knows the difference between your blush and the elements now. 
“You’re a smooth talker, Bang Chan.”
“It comes easy with you, Y/N L/N.”
Another laugh from you. 
“Shameless flirt.”
He puts his hand on his chest in mock hurt. “Ouch! I just speak the truth, that’s all. Not my fault I like seeing you blush.”
Every word that comes out of his mouth feels so natural. If he really thinks about it, he’s in a weirdly unique situation. Not many couples get to start over, to feel those butterflies again. But here he is, his palms starting to get sweaty as he imagines kissing you. 
Would you call it a first kiss? Maybe. 
It has been four dates. It wouldn’t be.. inappropriate to kiss you, would it? The two of you kissed on your third date a few years ago. 
He wants to kiss you so bad. 
Should he? Shouldn’t he? God, why is this so hard?
Chan reaches out and grabs the chain of your swing, pulling it to a very gentle stop. 
“Uh oh, fun police,” you tease and look up at him with a grin. 
Looking down at you, Chan allows his eyes to look over every detail of your face that he already had memorized. You haven’t changed at all except the new scar on the side of your forehead from the accident. 
It’s the same eyes, same nose, same chin that he fell in love with so long ago. 
The same asymmetrical eyes that you’re so self conscious of but he loves. Your hair is wind blown and splayed every which way. It adds a childish charm to your features. 
Very carefully, Chan moves his free hand down to cup your cheek. His warm palm soothes your ice cold face. He hears your breath catch in your throat at his touch. 
His thumb swipes over your cheek, fingertips run down the soft lines of your jawline. Eventually his thumb ends up under your chin which he tilts up. 
Your eyes sparkle. They somehow capture the light of the lamps around the playground. But they’ve always done that. 
You’re always so enchanting.
Is this a good idea? 
Is kissing you the best option? 
But does he even have the strength to stop himself now?
Almost three months without feeling your lips on his has been torture, and here he is, with you in his hands and there’s still this nagging feeling that he should stop. 
One look into your eyes quells that anxiety. 
Your eyes keep flickering down to his own lips, the shaky breath you let out is hot against his fingers. Everything feels warmer compared to the air outside. 
He can’t take it anymore. 
Chan leans down and presses his lips to yours. They’re warm and slightly chapped.
But, my god, he’s never felt anything this heavenly before. It’s like his entire body unwinds. Like a fire was lit inside his stomach. 
He moves his hand to the back of your head and keeps your lips pressed against his. Your head tilts to the side slightly. It’s just like he remembers. 
It’s just the first kiss, he can’t let himself get carried away. He can’t. 
He can’t let his fingers wind through your hair. He can’t melt into your touch on his cheek. He can’t let himself drown in your lips. 
But he is. 
He’s letting you consume his very soul in one kiss. 
How can something feel so healing yet hurt so badly at the same time? It’s like you’re ripping open a wound and bandaging it at the same time. 
No matter how hard he tries, he can’t bring his lips away from yours. Your hand slides down to caress his jawline with those soft, manicured fingers. 
Your lips open and close over his like mirror images. The feeling shoots straight down into Chan’s gut. It’s like the first time for him all over again. 
Those butterflies are going insane in his stomach. Your scent kicks up in the wind and he can’t help but take a large breath through his nose. 
God, he can’t stop himself. It feels too good. 
His hand moves from the back of your hair to cup your cheek and bring you closer. 
He immediately stops. 
Why is your face wet?
Chan pulls away from the kiss and looks down at you with concern written all over his expression. 
You’re crying. Why … why are you crying?
Your eyes open and you look at him confused. 
“Chan?” you whisper. You’re confused too. What?
“Why are you crying, Y/N?” he asks with a thick voice.
Your eyes widen and your own hand comes up to swipe at your cheeks. Sure enough, you’re met with tears. 
“I… I don’t know,” you say so quietly. “I-I’m not sure.”
Chan starts backing away, your eyes snap to focus on his. Your hand shoots up to grab at his to keep him there. You’re still so confused. 
Emotions are flying through your eyes. It almost looks like someone is clicking a light switch on and off in the back of your mind. A lightbulb is flickering in your soul like a dying neon sign in an old shop window. 
Every muscle in your face is twitching.
What’s happening?
“Channie—“ your own voice cuts off by a sob. 
Chan’s heart jumpstarts. You haven’t called him that… not in two months… that’s what you and your mother called him before the accident. 
Are you…? Are you remembering? What’s happening?
Please. 
Slowly, your hand falls from his. 
Chan stays there, unmoving like a statue. What’s happening inside your mind right now? It looks like you’re reaching and reaching for something that you can’t quite put your finger on. 
He's watching you struggle. It’s like when you can’t remember a word. It’s right there. It’s on the tip of your tongue.
You gulp, your eyes leave his and you look down at your lap. The dirt crunches under your feet as you shuffle your shoes around.
Chan swipes his thumb over your cheek, brushing away the tears. He’s biting back his own. 
“It’s okay—“ “I’m sorry—“ are both said at the exact same time. 
He knew it was coming. He knows you. But you don’t know him. Not anymore. 
But you do.
“It wasn’t the kiss. I—“ 
“It’s okay, Y/N.”
You know him. 
“Chan, I really loved the kiss.”
Chan. Not Channie. 
He brushes his thumb over your lips. “It’s okay,” he repeats gently. “You don’t have to explain.”
His other hand comes up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes slide shut at the sensation. 
Your bottom lip quivers and you pull it into your mouth and bite it. With a tight swallow, your throat bobs. 
“It happens sometimes,” you whisper. “It’s from the accident I had.”
Chan continues to soothingly rub your skin with his thumb. Slowly, he kneels down to be in front of you rather than leaning over. 
The dirt is cold on his knee. It seeps through the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t care less. 
“You don’t have to talk about it,” he whispers back to you. 
You shake your head gently, your hands folding in your lap. “No, no. I… I want to tell you. I need to tell you. It’s been happening more and more whenever I’m around you. It’s like every touch, every word you say bounces around my brain and makes me feel the worst case of deja vu.
“Every time I’m with you I feel like I’m trying to recall a dream I had last night but I just can’t remember what it was.”
You’re rambling. You only ramble when you’re overwhelmed and scared. 
“Chan, every time I’m with you it feels like some part of me is screaming to be let out.”
Your eyes open and you stare right through him. Chan feels his heart squeeze and almost stop completely. Despite your best efforts, the tears keep coming. 
“I was in a car accident a few months ago. I had such a severe concussion that I lost the last five years of my memory.” 
How is your voice so even?
Chan’s jaw clenches. Fuck fuck fuck. 
He knows. Yes, Y/N. He knows. Fuck, does he know! If anyone fucking knows, it’s him. 
“I—“ he starts but you cut him off. 
“Please,” you choke out and take a deep breath. “And since then I’ve been getting bits and pieces of my memory back. Sometimes they’re in large chunks, other times they just … come back.
“When I try to think about my life before the accident. There’s this… person there. Someone important. Someone so, so important that it physically hurts me to think about how I don’t know who it is. They’re a constant. And I love that they’re a constant.”
Your hand comes up to clutch at your jacket right over your chest. 
More tears come out of your eyes. The whites get more pink the more they flow. 
“But I know them. I do! I know them like I know the back of my hand. I-I know they love music. I know they take milk and sugar in their morning coffee. I know they don’t get enough sleep at night.”
Louder and louder your voice gets as you grow sadder and sadder. The sobs between thoughts wrack your chest. 
Him. You’re talking about him. 
Chan’s hands hold your face gently. His thumbs can’t keep up with how much you’re crying. 
Nothing has ever hurt this bad. 
You know him. You just don’t know it’s him. 
Nevertheless, you continue. “I remember that they have the most obnoxious phone alarm in the morning. I remember the passcode to their phone is 032518. I know that they have this one black sweatshirt that I love to steal even though it’s their favorite.”
Chan’s own eyes begin watering, he can’t stop it. You know him. You know him. You’ve remembered him this whole time and you didn’t even know it. 
You reach up and grab one of his hands and place it on your heart. Underneath your jacket, he can feel your heartbeat thudding violently against your chest. 
That same heartbeat he’s been dying to listen to while you play with his hair and tell him about your day. The heartbeat he would give anything to hear as he falls asleep. His throat gets tighter and tighter. 
“I’ve been surrounded by bits and pieces of a ghost and no one wants to help me. No one will tell me anything, and I’m so confused, Chan. I can tell that there’s something that everyone is avoiding telling me.”
A gust of wind picks up through the playground. It nips at his cheeks. It’s now he realizes how many tears are falling. 
A sob tears from his throat. 
You grip his hand tighter. 
“Tell me It’s you, Chan.” You’re begging. You’re actually begging while keeping his hand pressed against your heartbeat. 
“Tell me that you’re the person that I see in my dreams. Tell me you’re the one that loves when I draw hearts on the bathroom mirror after I shower. Please tell me that you’re the one that loves the smell of lemon cookies but can’t stand the taste.”
Oh, god, Y/N.
“Tell me that you’re the one that wanted to pick me up from the party that night but I said no.”
He breaks. 
He breaks right down in front of you. Every single ounce of self control leaves his body and he grabs you out of the swing, yanking you towards his body and holding you against his chest.The emotions that were being kept at bay came out like a raging storm. 
He falls backwards into the dirt, you come crashing into him. Your arms wrap around him at the same time he wraps around you. 
Chan buries his face in your neck, one hand on the back of your head and the other firmly around your waist. 
Wails leave his mouth as he holds you to him. They’re deep and come from the very depths of his soul. The wound that’s been open for months is bleeding.  
Every lonely night. Every dinner where he cooked for two instead of one by accident. Every long day he came back to an empty apartment. It’s all coming out. 
You’re crying just as hard as he is, both of your hands gripping the back of his hoodie like a lifeline. 
Your body in his arms is like a piece of a puzzle. Like he’s the dusty one sitting on his dining room table and you finally came in and finished it. 
Weeks and weeks of grief come crashing down on him. He can’t lie anymore. Not to you. Never to you. 
“It is me,” he cries into your neck, his hand running over the back of your head, feeling your hair slip through his fingers. It’s just like he remembers. “It’s all me, Y/N, It’s me.”
Your cries get louder, your body starts shaking in his arms. 
“I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he cries harder. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much. I missed my girl. Oh my god, I’ve missed you.”
Chan can’t pull you close enough, he can’t get you close enough to his body. You shift around and press yourself into him. 
“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry I didn’t pick you up that night. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m so sorry you got hurt.” 
Every ounce of grief is surfacing and clawing its way out of his throat. 
“I’m sorry I had to lie to you these last two weeks. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was so broken without you. I broke the doctor’s orders. I needed to see you, Y/N.”
Despite how hard he has you gripped against him, you manage to pull away slightly. You sit up in his lap and look down at his red, tear soaked face. His eyes are puffy and his chest is sputtering with sobs. 
Both of your hands cup his cheeks and swipe away the tears the same way he did for you only a small bit ago. There’s a sad smile on your face. 
“Please don’t apologize, Channie, it’s okay. I forgive you.”
Channie. You called him Channie.
He cries harder and buries his face into your chest. Your arms immediately come around him and keep him there, fingers threading into his hair. 
You’re still crying. Both of you are. 
“I know you were just doing what you were told to,” you whisper into his hair. He can hear your voice reverberate in your chest. 
All he can do is cry. 
Months of build up led to this moment. Endless days of going through the motions just for the next to be as dull and tedious led to him falling into you in the middle of a playground at night. 
The only thing you do after that is hold him. You press kisses to the top of his head and whisper that you forgive him over and over. 
Each one adds a stitch to the wound, shutting it.
You’re finally in his arms. You’re finally back where you belong. 
“I missed you,” he says again, his cries dying down. He doesn't know what else to say. There's so much he wants to tell you, but everything dies on the tip of his tongue.
“I missed you too, Channie. My heart missed you so much.”
He sniffles and looks up at you. You pull your sweatshirt sleeve up and wipe away his stray tears gently. 
“Every day it just felt like something was missing. It was you. You were missing.”
Chan can’t find any words to say. He just stares at you. 
"I don't care how long it takes to remember, or even if I never do. I need you by my side for it, Chan."
His eyes sparkle at you for a moment but he leans up and captures your lips with his once more. It feels even better than the previous one.
The two of you relish in the contact, holding each other close and clinging to the closeness of it all.
It's taking everything within Chan not to start crying again. He's worried than any moment now, he'll wake up and this will all be some cruel dream.
But when you pull away from his lips, and he opens his eyes-- you're still there. You're still in his arms and smiling at him like you always did.
The burn is soothed.
“If you think about it,” you start with a tiny smile. “We’re lucky— in a way.”
His entire face screws up, even more confused. “Lucky?”
“How many people get to say they fell in love with the same person twice?”
Chan blinks twice before it feels like his entire body thaws. 
You and your glass half full attitude. He’ll never fucking get enough of it. 
His arms wrap around you again, bringing you down into his chest. You let out a breathy giggle 
“You’re never leaving my sight,” he breathes out. “Never again, baby, never.”
“I don’t ever want to, Channie. I never will.”
579 notes · View notes
norrizzandpia · 7 months
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Used (Part 2) (LN4)
Summary: Even in times of pain, they’ll find their way back to each other.
Warnings: very emotional, but happy happy ending, lando’s actually depressed its so sad, cisca norris to the rescue, oscar and lando are enemies for a while
Note: HII ITS HEREEE I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT I THINK ITS PRETTY SLAY? 🤞🏻
In the wake of Lando’s actions, Y/n was left with a broken heart and a hole in her stomach. Constant emptiness plagued her, contradicting the love that had once filled her for a boy who used her and took every inch of her.
She was quiet, once more. Lonely, once more. Oscar couldn’t do anything to remedy the pain she felt, neither could her parents or friends. Simply, she sat within herself, retracing all the memories they shared together.
On the other hand, Lando was faced with the consequences of his actions. While the public didn’t know what happened, they were aware something had gone down with Oscar’s hostile driving toward his teammate every time they found themselves together on a track. If it wasn’t because of that, it was because of the angry fights accidentally had between the two men fans consistently caught on their cameras. And if it wasn’t because of the fights, it was because of the disappearance of interviews. Both drivers not being seen in a room together for a good 4 weeks straight after a particularly aggressive video sourced online of Lando and Oscar shoving each other behind the McLaren Garage. Yelling at each other about something the camera couldn’t pick up on, but angry faces and hands flew about for minutes before Lando’s dad rounded the corner and split them up.
Nonetheless, when Lando went to bed at night, he didn’t think about the fights with Oscar or the negative press he was getting online. He thought of Y/n and only her. His mind replayed moments of her bright smile, a warm feeling lingering in his stomach before his hand drifted to the cold, empty side of his bed and reminded him of his loss. It was almost as if he mourned her. She no longer showed up to races and if she did, her appearances were strategically planned so as to not have the couple run into each other. He had pleaded with Charlotte, McLaren’s PR manager, to “somehow” slip up on their schedules, but she wouldn’t budge. What he didn’t know was that Charlotte had gotten an ear full from Oscar and his parents about how Y/n was not to see Lando. The poor girl had been utterly ruined by him and his extortion of her.
Whether he liked to admit it or not, Lando knew that.
He knew she would never be the same because he had been reckless, and he knew the chances of her ever even looking at him again were slim to none. Still, he allowed his soul and heart to continue being tied to her. If he was being honest with himself, his whole being would always be tied to her, whether she loved him or not.
He tried convincing Oscar of this, of his love for her, but the Australian just continued screaming.
“YOU’RE A DICK, YOU KNOW THAT?” His blonde hair tangled after tugging on it so much as Lando stood in the corner of the room, taking the punches because he deserved them.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Lando whispered, his hands curling in his pockets as his tears threatened to fall.
“SORRY? SORRY WILL NEVER CUT IT FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE!” His arms flailed around. Oscar’s own tears gracefully fell to the ground as his rage consumed him.
There was a moment as the two boys looked at each other, both broken to the core for 2 completely different reasons, yet over the same girl.
Sighing, Oscar stepped back before plopping onto the couch, “Why’d you do it?” He whispered, his head falling into his hands.
Lando came to sit beside him, “There’s no good reason, but the only thing I can tell you is that I have always loved her, since the moment I saw her. Martin’s bet gave me an excuse to fall back on if she rejected me like I thought she would. When she didn’t and we started going out, I tried to push it away. But, Martin kept calling me and texting me, taunting me with how me and her had actually started. Throughout it all, though, I love her. I continue to love her even though she refuses to see me and I still love her even though she’s blocked my number. I’m starting to think I always will. Love her, I mean.”
Oscar turned his head to the side, capturing the blue eyes of his teammate and the ones that were so clearly defeated, “Really? It wasn’t a joke to you?”
Lando shook his head immediately, “No, of course not. It never was. I tried to explain that to her when everything came out, but she wouldn’t listen. After she shut the door on me when she found out, I tried to knock and ask her to let me in, but I don’t think she heard me because all I heard on the other side was crying. Oscar, I’m so sorry for what I did. If I could take back how it started, I would, but I won’t, and will never, wish to take back the moments we shared together. Even now, when communication between us has stopped, the memories keep me going. Just the memories of her are enough for me. I’ll always be grateful to even have them with her, having been able to experience that kind of love with someone who reciprocated it is something I never expected to feel ever in my life.”
“I wish you wouldn’t have done it. I wish you would have just gotten with her naturally. I really thought you two would get married.” Oscar said slowly, trying to let Lando down easily.
However, Oscar’s attempts failed as the sorrow hit Lando all over again. Flashes of the night when she opened up to him under the sky bounced around in his mind as he wondered what it would have been like to marry her, spend a lifetime with her.
Wiping a hand over his face to conceal the physical signs of his despair, Lando averted his eyes from the boy that reminded him too much of her, “Yeah, me too.”
“Y/n?” Her mother’s voice filtered through the door.
She shifted under the blankets, groaning quietly at the disturbance, but her mother’s next words made her falter.
“Mrs. Norris is here to see you if you’re up for it.” The door creaked open before soft footsteps made their way to her bed, the mattress dipping before a hand came to rest on her side.
In the time she and Lando spent together, Cisca became like a second mother to Y/n. Whether the woman intended for it or not, her soft-spoken voice and gentle, motherly touch had filled Y/n with comfort during times of self-confliction or arguments with Lando or the other men in her life.
“Hi, darling.” Her hand rubbed slowly up and down her torso as Y/n untangled herself from her blankets, sitting up to meet the older woman’s eye.
“Mrs. Norris, it’s so nice to see you.” Her smile wasn’t as big as it used to be, Cisca noted.
Giggling, she smoothed a hand down Y/n’s cheek, “Even after all this time, you still call me ‘Mrs. Norris’”.
They laughed together for a second before silence overtook the moment and Cisca was watching Y/n retreat back into her heartbreak.
Her small voice cut through the stillness, “I’ve never seen him like this before.”
Y/n’s head tilted to the side as she pleaded with Lando’s mother to not begin this conversation, for the sake of her healing process. However, Cisca knew, deep down, that this conversation would do more good than bad.
So, she continued.
“He won’t talk about you. He shuts down the moment we mention your name.” Cisca took Y/n’s hands in hers, cradling them as she had cradled her son the night Y/n had blocked his number. Lando had shown up unannounced at his parents’ home, clutching his phone in his hands as if it was the only thing anchoring him. The moment she had opened the door, his eyes told every bit of pain he had tried to force down as he convinced himself he wasn’t allowed to feel grief if he was the one having screwed it all up. His legs gave out and he had fallen into the safe embrace of his mother, clutching onto her as he rambled about losing Y/n. Cisca had brought him into the house and sat with him on the couch all night as he poured his heart out to her, tears and all.
He didn’t leave their house for a week after that.
Now, she sat with the girl who had destroyed her son, just as he had destroyed her. Prepared to try and reconcile something so beautiful.
“If he loved me, he wouldn’t have done it.”
Cisca nodded, completely agreeing with Y/n’s logic, “I understand, but Y/n, we both know this is much more complicated. You two have loved each other for a long time. I would even say from the moment you first met, but I won’t speak for you. When he said he loved you, he meant it. From the start. Yes, he messed up and did something I did not raise him to do. However, Y/n,” Cisca’s hand moved to turn Y/n’s face, forcing her to look his mother in her eyes, “I know my son and I know when he’s gone for someone. He’s utterly gone for you. Hell, he’s so lost without you, the boy can’t even tie his own shoes.”
Cisca wiped away the tears Y/n didn’t even know were falling before the girl in bed whispered, “But, what if he hurts me again?”
Sighing, Lando’s mother scooched to squeeze on the bed beside Y/n, putting her arm around the girl and hugging her into her side, “I know it’s hard, but just give him a chance, yeah? He betrayed your trust and a lot of other things, so it will be difficult to let him in again. But, and this is hard to understand because he was your first everything, what you two had was unlike anything I have ever seen in my entire life and I’ve been married to his father for years. The way you two understood each other was on a level that I think would be a shame to not fight for. You were good for him, really good, and I wouldn’t be a good mother if I didn’t do everything I could to make my child happy again. It just so happens that, in this case, it would also benefit the person he was in love with too.”
Nodding, Y/n hugged the woman tighter, “I’ll think about it. Thank you.”
Seeing as her job was done, Cisca got up and made her move toward the door, but not before she stopped to turn around and look Y/n in the eye once more, “When you talk to him, be gentle, okay? I know it sounds stupid because he should be being gentle with you after everything he pulled, but you don’t know how hard he’s beaten himself up over this. There are only a handful of times in motherhood where you will see your child grieve so hard over someone, they vomit. It’s hard to watch your son destroy who he is because he loved so hard. If you won’t do it for him, do it for me. There’s only so much a mother can take when it comes to seeing her child in pain.”
Y/n smiled lightly as she promised the woman she would be soft with the man she loved.
The man she loves.
“Can you at least shower?” Max asked softly as Lando curled further into his bed.
Sniffling, Lando mumbled, “There’s no one to smell good for. Don’t see the point.”
Max rubbed a hand over his face, hating how his best friend had become the shell of a human, “Lando, it’s for your own health. Please, it’ll be good for you. You haven’t gotten out of bed for a week. I’m worried about you, mate.”
“I don’t ca-” Lando started, but was interrupted by a knock on their front door.
Max’s gaze shifted between his best friend and the slab of wood, not wanting to let Lando leave his sight, yet knowing he needed to open it. He exhaled a breath as he stole a quick glance at the body under all the lumps of blankets before making his way to the door.
Opening it, he sighed in relief at the sight of Y/n, the remedy for his best friend’s turmoil.
“I don’t know why you’re here, but I think it’s for a good reason. I hope it’s for a good reason.” He said as he let her in.
She smiled at him, still a bit nervous to see Lando, but relieved she had finally gone through with it this time.
“Is he here?” She asked quietly.
Max laughed, “Is he here? Yeah, he has been for the last eternity.”
She cringed before making her way toward his room, inhaling a breath before opening the door.
“Max, I’m serious. Leave me alone.” He said, annoyed, from under his pillow. She couldn’t help the smile that took over her face at his voice and common stubbornness. She had missed him like the ocean missed the sun when it disappeared in the night. Missing his soft touches, hushed kisses of warmth, and the light he continually exuded on both good and bad days.
“Lando, it’s me.” She said as she rounded his bed, sitting down on the side of it.
He froze. His brain tried to convince him he was going clinically insane, no longer seeing her in his head but hearing her in his room. However, his heart contradicted the argument when he felt the bed dip and he just knew. He knew it was really her by the way his skin lit up at the close proximity and his breath stopped for a moment before filling his lungs once more like life was returning to his body.
He lowered the blankets. Her face coming into view almost had him breaking down, but this newfound chance at redemption had his brain short-circuiting, and crying so hard he couldn’t speak didn’t seem like a good plan.
“Y/n…” His tone was subdued as if she was an angel, completely struck by her and her existence.
Her hand reached out to caress his cheek. The igniting touch had color pumping through his body again as he leaned into her touch, seemingly reconnecting with his lifeline.
“I thought we could talk.” She said as his eyes fluttered closed, her thumb rubbing circles over his cheekbone.
“Of course,” He said breathlessly, enamored by her and the way she made him feel.
She giggled, a sound that Lando was etching into his brain as if he was going to lose it again, “Okay, but you’ll have to open your eyes for that to happen, Lan.”
He blushed at the nickname. The last time she had called him the shortened name was when she was confronting him over what he had done. The reminder of the moment when she walked out on him hit him hard. He stared at her, scared she had only come back to him to give him a taste of what he could’ve had only to take it away once more.
She must have realized his agony because she was grabbing his hand with hers, coaxing him away from the dark place to come back to her, in the now. The funny part was that she didn’t need to physically bring him back, he would always return to her just by the comforting presence of the person he fell in love with.
“Dating me because of a bet hurt like hell. I thought I would never come back from that kind of pain, but as I rotted away in my room, I realized that, even though you had hurt me so deeply, I still loved you. It took me time to understand what that meant seeing as you have been my first love, my first everything, but I think I’ve got it down, now.” She squeezed his hand as their eyes welled together, “Even though those times we spent together had been created under such a gross circumstance, I wouldn’t want to forget them. Ever. Because I love you, Lan. I was talking to my mom and she explained to me that giving people second chances isn’t always a bad choice, if they’re good for you. That’s when it clicked for me. Giving you a second chance is a no-brainer because you’ve never wronged me before. I fell in love with you and when you fell in love with me, you always showed up. Even when I found out about the bet, you still showed up. You stayed on the other side of Oscar’s Driver’s Room door, asking me to come in before he showed up and forced you away. You’ve always been there for me, always secretly supported me, and wished the best for me even when I rejected you completely. Over this time by myself, I came to the conclusion that I don’t want anyone else to root for me on the sidelines other than you.”
His arms had found their way to her, loosely circling around her waist as he tested the waters. When she didn’t push him away, when her arms twisted around his neck, he leaned in. What she thought would be a kiss was actually a bone-crushing hug that was, surprisingly, way more intimate than any kiss he could have planted on her at that moment. His tears wetted her shirt and hers did the same to him as he whispered how much he loved her in her ear. Softly, he explained to her just how much she made his heart stop, “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could go back in time and treat you with respect. I’m so sorry for what I did and for what I put you through, my love. The thing that was so scary for me when I realized how much I loved you was that you had always been in front of me. Like, you’d been standing right in front of me for years before I understood who I needed you to be to me. I never thought that one singular person could change the course of my life and how I lived it let alone someone I had known for so long, but it’s always been you. I’m not sure if you always felt that same way about me, but I have. Once I began looking to you when shit in my life hit the fan, I knew I wouldn’t be able to love anyone the way I love you. It would always have to be you because, if it wasn’t, there’d be no one else to fulfill me the way you have. You came into my life and flipped it right side up, not upside down.”
When his hushed words ended in her ear, she pulled away. Tears tracing the outside of her lips, she scratched at the hair at his nape, something she knew he always loved.
Realizing that he had never fully lost her, Lando whispered an “I love you” before smoothing the hair out of her face.
When he was finally able to see his favorite face, only then did he kiss her.
End.
Tags (thank you for the sweet comments): @tpwkstiles @lqvesoph @hearts4joao @flwr-stella @formula1mount @405rry @msliz @gaslysainz @summerslike11
1K notes · View notes
k4g3hika · 8 months
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CONSUME ━ imagine!
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suna rintarou x fem!reader
summary: suna rintarou was hard to love, you knew this from the beginning. but when you overhear him admitting how he truly felt about you, it hurt to decide whether to let him go, or let your love for him continuously consume you.
genre: hurt/comfort
wc: 6.2k
tags: this is the longest imagine that i’ve ever written 😭 it was a pain in the ass to write but i hope you guys like it :)
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Sometimes, you think it’s hard to love Suna.
Suna is calculating and quiet, the reasons exactly why you find it difficult to continuously pine for him. Though, you already knew he was going to act like this. You’ve gone to school with Suna since elementary, and have even lived in the same neighbourhood since childhood, but you don’t think he knows that.
The thing is, you know Suna, but you don’t think he knows you. Every morning since you were six years old, you’ve seen him make his way to school, but you’ve never had the courage to walk up to him and say ‘hi’. For years, the only parts of Suna that you were able to truly admire were his back and his hair, from behind. The both of you have never been in the same friend group, class, or extra-curricular activity, until your second-year of high school.
You precisely remember the moment you stepped into the gymnasium to introduce yourself as the new manager of the team. It was a rainy day and you were excited, albeit, a little nervous, but irregardless, excited because you know and love volleyball. The sport connected with some of your childhood memories, as you recall playing it with your older brother. Too bad your physical skills weren’t up to par with the school’s expectations, or else you would’ve been on the team. Their loss though, because you found your strategy and knowledge of the sport to be your strongest feature as a player.
As a result of the girl’s team already having a manager, the coach recommended you to try signing up for the role of manager for the boy’s team. Now, you didn’t mind being around boys. Your older brother was enough for you to build up the courage against the challenge that is the hygiene and personality, or well, lack thereof, of boys.
However, the courage built over the years was not enough to stop your surprise at seeing none other than Suna Rintarou, from the front.
He looked completely different from what you remember him looking like. For some reason, you still had the young image of Suna in your head. The Suna you remember had puffy cheeks and neat hair, but this new Suna, was mature, older, and way more handsome. His cheeks thinned out and highlighted a sharp jawline that made his face look so clean-cut, unlike his hair that was messy and all over the place. But, if anything, you think that you prefer this Suna.
Because, God, it made him so much more attractive.
Now, it’s been about three months since you’ve become manager, and in those three months, you’ve tried to show Suna just how much you love him. The years of no talking and never meeting each other were all building up for you, and you just wanted to show him all of the care and affection you’ve held for him over the years.
You’ve cooked bento boxes and given them to him, you’ve filled his water bottle with the expensive electrolytes from the convenience store ten minutes away from the school before every practice, and who couldn’t forget, you make sure that his towel was clean and warm beside his gym bag, so that he wouldn’t use the same one for weeks until it reeked. Your affection was clearly shown through your actions and you prayed to the heavens that he would just notice you. Maybe say a ‘thank you’ or even a little head pat, you really don’t care, just some recognition would make you feel rewarded after all the hard work you’ve done for him.
But, the bento boxes were returned to you either by, Atsumu or Osamu, Suna drank the expensive electrolyte water, however, he seemed to not notice that it was you who put all the thought and care behind the action, and his towel was always just thrown to the side alongside the other towels. Even though the towel you prepped was a personal one from home that had your initials hand sewn in the corner. You thought that at one point he would’ve acknowledged you, but the gratefulness never came.
It didn’t matter though. Because you knew in your heart that you loved Suna Rintarou, and there was nothing that could change that. Even if you did all the sincere actions for him until the both of you graduated and he never noticed you, just knowing that he at least saw the bento box, the water bottle, and your towel, was enough to put a smile on your face. You would show Suna that you love him, ten times over.
“Y/N! Earth to Y/N!” Your head snaps over to your right, seeing the coach look at you with concern. Embarrassed that he caught you in your daily Suna trance, your cheeks heats up and you push yourself to your feet.
“Coach!”
“I thought you would never hear me. Listen, I don’t know what’s taking all your attention away, but can you please head down to the locker room and tell the boys that they need to make their way over here. The drill we spoke about yesterday is a bit complicated, so I would like to get started as soon as possible.” Nodding, you bow and begin to make your way over to the club room.
Your heart begins to speed up a bit, as the thought of seeing Suna shirtless makes your chest burn and your face hot. By all means, you are not a pervert! But just seeing him with all his muscles in the bright fluorescent light of the locker room looked like a cover of a sports magazine.
Suna Rintarou makes you feel so nervous. Unfortunately, you find yourself relishing in the minimal acknowledgement that he gives you, thriving off of the fact that you were in a club that just allowed you to be around him. Maybe it was a sign from the heavens that you weren’t physically athletic, but strategically, which resulted in your application as Boys Volleyball team manager. You’d like to think that despite his ignorance, it was in both of your guys’ destinies to end up with another.
Maybe the both of you were the main characters of a drama, where, despite all the bumps in the plot, you will always find each other being drawn to one another. Yet again, that was all just your stupid imagination, but one can dream, right?
Giggling to yourself, you were about to knock on the locker room door, before you heard loud voices through the small space between the door and the wall. It sounded like they were bickering with one another, and you begin to wonder if it’s Atsumu and Osamu fighting again, while everyone just stood around and observed. Normally, you would be the one to beg them to stop while Kita jumped in after you to pull them apart. But, now that you weren’t inside, you begin to push open the door at the possibility.
“...Y/N?” Your actions falter at the sound of your name.
‘Are they talking about me?’ Before you could do anything, you lean your ear in just to get a snippet of what they were talking about. You know what they say though, curiosity was what killed the cat.
“Come on Sunarin! You have to like Y/N! She’s so cute, and she cooks you all those bento boxes! If that isn’t girlfriend material, then I don’t know what is.” Hearing Atsumu praise you for your efforts made you smile, trying to hide it by covering your mouth with your hand.
“And, let’s not forget how she already likes you. C’mon Rintarou, we’ve seen her personally hand you your water bottle,” The voice you assume to be Ojiro teases, while everyone in the room laughs.
“Oh yeah!! I’ve seen those expensive electrolyte packets in her bag, man, how does it feel to receive such special treatment from Y/N?”
‘So my actions don’t go unnoticed.’ Your smile grows bigger, clutching your clipboard closer to your chest when feeling just how full your heart is with everyone’s recognition.
“Stop it guys.” Suna’s smooth voice finally enters the picture and you try to stop yourself from giggling out loud. “She’s our manager.”
“So?!? Man, that’s even better! You won’t have a girlfriend who doesn’t understand the importance of the sport. If anything, Y/N is more committed than you, maybe you will be the one competing for her attention against the club,” you hear smooching sounds and Atsumu speaks in a voice that tries to mock Suna’s, but did a terrible job.
“Y/N~ don’t forget all about me!! I love you Y/N~!” More kissing sounds can be heard, and everyone in the room laughs one more time.
The joy in your heart would’ve been extended, if it weren’t for the sudden aggravated scoff from Suna, and the slapping of a towel on bare skin. Atsumu yelps and the room suddenly dies down from the initial humorous atmosphere.
“Man, shut up. I don’t like Y/N. She’s alright, I guess.” a locker door slams shut, “But sometimes, she's just so... annoying. I don't know how much longer I can put up with it. And you know, after a while, it just comes off as desperate.”
‘Desperate? I’m not desperate.’ You weren’t keen on Suna noticing you. You just liked doing all those things for him, it showed you cared, and that he was at least deserving of some special treatment, because he was a very special person in your life.
“I feel bad for her,” he continues, “spending all that time doing shit for someone that doesn’t even like her. I can’t say anything though, cause she’s our manager and I don’t want the team to feel awkward. I guess I just have to suffer with her smothering me all the damn time.”
At that, you feel your once fluttering heart stop. You feel tears beginning to make their way to fall from your eyes, as your face begins to feel hot, but not in a blushing way. More like in a, you were about to sob out loud and the tears probably wouldn’t stop for a while, way.
You loved Suna. He didn’t have to love you back, the least you were asking for was for him to say ‘thank you’. But it appeared that your affection didn’t appear as a display of your love, but something that bothered him. Annoying him to the point of seeing your actions as suffocating. But that didn’t entirely bother you.
It was the fact that he didn’t even want to tell you to stop. He was going to live like that until high school was over, because you were the team’s manager, and it would be ‘awkward’. You begin to overthink.
What if you kept on going about cooking those bento boxes for him, filling his water up with electrolytes, and bringing a special towel from home, all warm and clean, without knowing what he actually thought of your displays of affection? You would’ve lived thinking that Suna somewhat appreciated it. Possibly having the idiotic thought that he was just shy, and maybe didn’t know how to exactly tell you that he liked you.
You are such a dumbass.
You begin to tremble, the pen that was once held up by your clipboard clattering to the ground and startling you. It brought you back to your situation, seeing the door still somewhat closed in front of you. Out of fear that they were going to see you and realise that you were eavesdropping, you ditch the pen and begin to run back to the gym.
You were going to tell the coach that you were feeling sick. You hope the teary eyes and flushed cheeks will do you justice, and he’ll send you home without any repercussions. But as of right now, nothing matters, all that did was the fact that you were annoying the boy you loved, and that your pillows were waiting to welcome your tears until tomorrow morning.
It’s been two days. Have you missed school for the past two days? Absolutely not. Suna wasn’t going to make you miss class, as much as you wanted to, you know that if you were going to skip, the school will inform your parents, and that last thing you want is your parents to get involved.
It’s just been two days since you’ve been to volleyball practice. You haven’t been missing your duties at all though. Yes, you’ve been in contact with the coach and Kita, with them informing you on the notes of the team and each player’s performance. The reason for that being, some coaches from Tokyo were planning to head down to Hyogo for a volleyball camp. The team needs to know what they have to improve on, and unfortunately, though you felt as if you weren’t in the right state of mind, you had to fulfil your duties as a manager.
You’re not over Suna, and to be honest, you don’t think you ever will be. He’s been such a constant force in your life, that a lifetime without his presence captivating your mind felt impossible to even conjure. You love Suna Rintarou, but you guess you would just have to hold it inside until the both of you go your separate ways. Maybe then you’ll get over him, but the possibility seemed unlikely.
You just have to give up expecting the response to your love that you’ve been hoping for your entire life.
Checking the cafeteria and seeing if you had enough food supply for three volleyball teams, their respective coaches, and their managers. It seemed like a chore to do all on your own, and it was. But you committed to being the team manager. Suna wasn’t going to change that whether he liked it or not.
“Y/N, the Tokyo teams will be arriving soon. Coach says you need to head to the front and help him with dorm placement.” Sighing and nodding, you get up from your squatting position from the bottom shelf. Kita notices your negative mood, by being the observant asshole that he is. As you were about to exit out the only doorway, he grabs your forearm, holding you back from actually leaving. His sudden touch surprised you, resulting in you jolting back. “I’ve been meaning to ask, are you okay?”
His concern falters your thoughts and movements. In all the time that you’ve been manager of the volleyball team, Kita has never really shown you that much care for how you felt. It surprised you a bit, seeing how concerned he looked for your wellbeing.
Yet again, he’s Suna’s friend.
“I’m okay, why do you ask?” He didn’t believe you, that was clear. It was so obvious when his facial expression did not change, Kita was still staring intently at you. It almost felt like he was trying to read your mind.
“You dropped your pen, by the way.” Taking it out of his pocket, Kita hands you your familiar piece of stationary, not thinking about it, you grab it from his hand. “I know you were by the locker room when Suna said what he said.”
‘Oh shit.’ You felt your heart come to a stop, yet again.
“W-What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“So it’s just a coincidence that after Suna said that about you, I found your pen in front of the locker room door, and you didn’t show up to practise till today? Y/N, I’m not sure if you’ve failed to learn something about me, but I can tell you that I am not an idiot.”
His words caught you off-guard. Kita managed to figure out what was wrong with you, without even knowing who you were. To be honest, it scared you a bit, getting a glimpse of what Kita can truly find out when he concentrated hard enough. You admire that about him.
Taking your silence as you not knowing what to say, Kita lets go of your forearm and sighs.
“Suna didn’t mean what he said. He’s a very thoughtful individual who was pressured into saying those things by the team. You know how they are. Please try to see things from his perspective, as Suna is often misunderstood.” He begins to walk away, but leaves with a final word, “I’m not telling you to change how you feel about the situation. You have a right to feel how you feel. But, don’t take Suna’s words too seriously.” Kita walks away, leaving you alone in the cafeteria.
‘Did he just say not to take the insults Suna threw at you seriously?’ The aggression left behind the negativity a few days ago wants to say, absolutely not. What Kita said is unfair, to you and your feelings. Suna called you annoying and said you were smothering him, how can you jump around that? So far you haven’t had a night where you haven’t thought about how…mean Suna was. You thought that he only would’ve been mean to Atsumu or the others, but not you, never you.
It’s safe to say that your mind felt like it was on the verge of exploding. It was so stressful to choose whether or not you should believe Kita and show Suna your love again, or just ignore him like what you’ve been doing for the past couple of days.
You think that it’s best to just…not think about the problem. It’s a situation for later, for now, the camp and most importantly, the team needs your utmost attention.
‘God, I hate high school.’
“Hey Suna, you good?” Suna takes a sip of water from his bottle, noting that it tasted different from usual. Nodding, he wipes his sweat off with a spare shirt from his bag, also becoming aware that the towel that he was given wasn’t the usual soft one that he had from the beginning of the year. This one was coarse and rough, making him pick up the shirt he intended to wear if he got too sweaty.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Hey, does the water taste a bit weird? Like, spoiled or somethin’ cause it doesn’t taste like how it usually does.” Osamu’s eyebrow raises, grabbing the bottle from Suna’s hands despite his protests, and tasting his friend’s drink. To him, it tasted normal, like the normal water that came from the water fountain.
“No…it tastes like how it usually does?”
“Nah, can’t be man. The water I usually have is sweeter and it tastes like fruit juice. This shit tastes weird.” Suna’s face scrunches up, tasting his water again to see if he was just hallucinating the lack of flavour in his water. It’s stupid, how much he’s overthinking the flavour of something that he shouldn’t think that much about. But he hates how regular water tastes like, only really drinking it if he has to.
Observing Suna, it clicks in Osamu’s head what was missing from the water.
In the past, he has noticed you getting out a packet of electrolytes and putting it into Suna’s bottle with a sincere smile on your face. You looked so cute and happy, it puzzled him why you didn’t tell Suna that it was you that was making his water suitable to his tastes. The silent display of affection made him so jealous, he could only wish that he had someone that cared that much.
“What if you ask Y/N? She’s the one who fills up the water bottles anyway, she should know.” Osamu jogs back to the court, practising once more with the team captain. Inquisitively, Suna does remember that you fill up the water bottles. He also remembered how you asked him once at the beginning of the school year what his favourite drink was, and he only shrugged, saying that he likes fruit chuupets, and ever since then, his water tasted like the familiar fruity taste. Wanting to know why his water hasn’t been tasting like it as of late, it prompted him to go on a search for you. Damn warmups, he needs to know why his water doesn’t have the same taste than it usually does.
Looking around the gym, he sees your figure turn into the hallway. Following you, he begins to walk faster in order to catch up to you, thinking about what to say to you in his head, without coming across as mean.
‘Y/N, why does my water taste bad?’ No. ‘Y/N, why doesn’t my water taste like fruit?’ No, he’s going to sound stuck up. ‘Y/N, why does my water taste like everyone else’s?’ Oh God no, that sounds even worse.
‘Y/N, is there something different about my water?’ There you go. That should sound right.
He was ready to confront you, preparing himself to call out your name. But before he could do so,
“Dove!” Suna’s head snaps to the loud voice in front of him, and so does yours, as a tall, lanky, goofy-looking boy makes his way towards you. Much to Suna’s dismay, for some reason, a smile etches itself onto your face as the other man approaches you. “I thought I would never find you.”
“Tetsu, aren’t you supposed to be practising with your team? You shouldn’t be behind here.”
“Well, I just wanted to see my girl. Is there any harm in that, Dove?”
“Tetsu, stop,” you mutter, a bit shy, “I don’t want people from my school to hear you call me that.”
“Aw, you’re still cute as ever. Here, let me help you with that.” Suna sees the guy, ‘Tetsu’, grab the basket of water bottles from your hands. You protest, pouting a bit as Kuroo brings the case above your reach so that you wouldn’t be able to get it back. “I haven’t seen you in awhile Dove, let me be nice, okay?”
Honestly, he personally doesn’t know what overcame him, but out of nowhere Suna coughed loud enough for the pair to hear. He sees you jump a bit, seeing that one of your teammates, catching you in the midst of a conversation while you were supposed to be doing your duties. And it was even worse for you, as not only was it a teammate, but it was Suna. You assume that he probably hates your guts, based on what he said before. Even so, his glare started to make you feel a bit nervous.
“Can I help you?” Kuroo asks Suna as walks up to the both of them.
“I should be asking you that question. Do you need something from my team manager?” Embarrassed, you look down at your feet, trying to avert your eyes from Suna or Kuroo’s.
Kuroo’s eyes squint, looking at the middle-blocker who, to his surprise, matches his height. The both of them begin to have a staring competition, as one or the other refuses to tear away the eye contact. It started to worry you, because it’s almost been two minutes of harsh breathing and aggressive stares.
“O-Okay, I’ll be taking these then.” You grab the crate from Kuroo and begin to make your way to your original location. “Get back to practise guys! Lunch is in thirty!”
“Who are you and why were you talking to Y/N?”
“Woah, woah, buddy, why are you getting protective? Y/N, is a very, very, close friend of mine, so I think that I have a right to approach her right?” Kuroo smirks, stepping closer to Suna as a form of intimidation. “How about you? Are you her boyfriend or something?”
Suna glares at Kuroo, wanting nothing more than to hit him in the jaw. He would, but one, that would take too much of his energy, and two, he’s pretty sure you would hate him if he does. Still, something in Suna just wanted to tell Kuroo that he was your boyfriend just for him to back off.
But he wasn’t. Because he doesn’t like you. He’s sure of that.
“No.” Kuroo laughs, stepping back before turning to make his way back to the gym.
“Well then, that means nothing is stopping me right?” Kuroo walks away, but not before aggressively pushing Suna’s shoulder back with his own. Though, Suna was too concentrated on what the other boy said to even progress the aggression from the other side.
‘What did he mean ‘nothing is stopping him? Is Kuroo going to do something to you? What will Kuroo do that’ll result in Suna blocking him?’
“Sunarin! What are you still doing out here?!” Atsumu shriek could be heard from down the hall, making Suna jump out of his train of thought. He completely forgot that he was even standing here just staring at a wall and thinking of you. That was weird.
He usually never did.
The practice game against Inarizaki and Nekoma was…tense.
You could feel the passive aggressiveness coming strangely, from Kuroo and Suna across the net. Everyone else was curious as well, wondering exactly why these two, who’ve never met before, suddenly have a feud similar to that of a world war. At first, you were completely clueless, but then began to wonder if something happened in the hallway after you left.
Maybe Suna said something to tease Kuroo? Or maybe, it was the other way around and now they just want to kill each other.
In the third set at twenty-two points to Inarizaki and twenty-four points to Nekoma, the stakes and the nerves were equally as high. Nekoma has one win and Inarizaki has the other. It seems that this practice game was being played for far more than it actually was, since Kuroo and Suna never acknowledged each other apart from glaring and swearing at each other under their breath. Their respective teams kept asking them if they were okay, both replying with, “yeah, let’s just win.”
“Do you think something happened between Suna and that Nekoma player?” The coach asks you, leaning in and whispering it so that others wouldn’t hear.
“I’m not sure…but they do seem pretty aggressive with one another.”
Then, as you look away for just a moment, a spike comes from Nekoma, but was thankfully received by Kita. Following a set by Atsumu, Osamu jumped to spike it down, but was then blocked by none other than Kuroo himself.
At the brink of time, Ojiro retrieves it back, calling Atsumu to set it once more, this time for Suna to powerfully spike it down, aiding them in their two point loss between them and Nekoma. As Suna jumps up, you see Kuroo and Kenma jump as well.
A feeling of failure begins to settle in your heart.
Suna hits the ball, powerfully, the first time you’ve seen him hit a ball with so much energy.
But the ball immediately lands back down onto the same side, Kita not able to have caught up to it in time. Nekoma cheers out loud, congratulating each other on their hard work.
While Inarizaki lost, they began to support each other for their efforts, but you notice that Suna didn’t look as relieved as the others. His stare is hostile, facing towards the otherside where you see Kuroo looking at him with the same confrontational gaze. You swallow nervously, beginning to make your way towards Suna to pull him back. The Inarizaki boys take notice as well, observing how Suna and Kuroo were both stomping their way to each other. The same feeling of failure seeps into your chest again and you could sense something was going to go terribly wrong–
Suna punched Kuroo in the jaw!
Out of nowhere, a fight begins between the two players, both of them tussling with one another in the middle of the court. Kuroo lands a punch on Suna but is equally stunned when Suna fights back almost immediately after. You notice how Kuroo was pulling at his shirt, trying to bring him closer to land another blow, but fails as Suna strikes him one after the other. Both Nekoma and Inarizaki run up to their players, trying to pull them apart from one another.
The coaches start to shout at their players, ordering them to stop what they were doing at once.
Successfully, they both are torn apart from one another, but still continue to fight the air as they try to continue their brawl.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Your coach asks, trying to instill some discipline into his player. Unfortunately, your heart fails to calm down after witnessing the both of them fight so aggressively. You’ve never seen Suna fight someone, or him be so mad.
Suna looks up, pulling his arms away from his teammates and stares at you.
As the both of you make eye-contact, you refuse to move from your position and remain shaking. Almost as if you gave him an answer to something, Suna walks away, leaving behind everyone in awe.
Just then, you look up at Kita, who nods for you to go.
‘Should I go?’
The memory of him calling you annoying and smothering comes back in your mind.
‘Does he deserve my comfort?’
“Please try to see things from his perspective, as Suna is often misunderstood.”
Putting down the clipboard on the bench, you run outside to try and find Suna. Fall has never been kind to Hyogo, as rain pelts down from the sky, fogging your ability to try and see Suna. You call out his name, but your volume is minute in comparison to the strength of the rain.
Running into the open hallway, you look left and right to try and find the familiar boy. But, no luck. Your heart begins to ache at the realisation that you had no idea where Suna is. You didn’t know what he was doing all by himself in weather like this. Inside, you sincerely hope that he didn’t run out in the street.
‘Oh God, what if he did?’
Out of sheer panic, you run towards the direction of the gate, praying to the heavens that he didn’t do the latter. With rain coming down this hard, you knew that driver’s wouldn’t be able to see as clearly as they usually do. And the thought of Suna running into the street in hopes of getting his comfort jelly chuupets at the convenience store down the road doesn’t make you feel better at all.
You run out the gate, looking towards the direction of the store, failing to catch Suna or any person resembling him standing in the vicinity of it. Trying to get nearer and get a closer look, the sound of a blaring horn fills your ears. Turning to the left, you see a car heading your way, swerving side to side in a skidding motion. The road was so slippery in this type of weather, but why couldn’t you move?
The car was getting closer and your feet felt like they were stuck on the ground.
‘Why can’t I move?’
“Y/N!” Your body jerks back to the side. The car swiftly passes the both of you, getting back onto its regular general direction before driving further down the road. You feel your heart beating profusely, your heaving chest moving up and down in hopes of slowing it. “Are you stupid?! What do you think you’re doing?!?”
Looking up to thank your saviour, Suna’s panicked face greets you causing you to go silent. Both at the same time, you feel relief and stress seeing his face. Mostly relief because you’ve finally found him after all the events that occured today.
“Answer me—“
“Idiot!” Pushing him back, Suna stands there stunned while you clench your fists by your sides. “What—What do you think you’re doing, getting into fights, running out in the rain…are you a child?!? What is going on with you??”
Suna stands there silently.
“And don’t just stand there, I ran out in the road because, because I thought you went to buy your stupid chuupets that you love so much down at the convenience store! You are like a child, wanting fucking food when you’re angry or stressed. You know, I shouldn’t have come out here. In the rain, getting all wet. But you know what Suna, you know what’s pathetic? This, running in shitty weather like this, wouldn’t only be the most drastic thing I do for you.
Suna, for months, I-I’ve been buying expensive ass electrolyte packets, because I know you wouldn’t drink regular water. You only drink water that tastes like fruit juice. That’s from my own money by the way! I also cook you food, that I spend time out of my nights, and sometimes mornings, because you are picky! I know you don’t like cafeteria food, so I just threw my food into the circle, hoping to God that you just might like it! And-And let’s not forget about my towel, my hand sewn, hand washed, machine dried towel. I bring it for you fresh everyday Suna! I know you don’t like the rough school towels, so I brought mine with my initials!
And do I get noticed? No! I never got a ‘thank you’, or even a nod of recognition?! I have Atsumu or Osamu return my bento box in silence, even my towel, thrown into the pile with the rest of the team’s towels, and I get called annoying. I slave myself every day, Suna, just to get your attention. But I don’t think you realise that, I don’t have to do these things. I have never, ever, forced myself to do these things.
I am sorry, if I smother you Suna. I just love you so fucking much that I don’t realise the things I do to care for you, are exhausting.
But now, I’m exhausted. Of not receiving the gratitude I expect for the things I do. I was fine for awhile Suna, but now I’m—“
Then, you feel yourself being pushed onto his chest. One of Suna’s arms wrap around your waist, while the other holds your head down gently, as if silencing you from saying the rest of what you wanted to say. You feel shock course through your veins as the last thing you expected was a hug from the Suna Rintarou.
You and Suna stood under the harsh rain, their heartbeats echoing the drumming of waterdrops around them. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in that intimate moment.
“Don’t get tired Y/N, please don’t get tired of me.” Out of nowhere, you feel yourself begin to cry. Wiping your tears onto Suna’s already wet jersey, he manages to sense your exhaustion, urging him to glide his hand on top of your head continuously. “I am grateful Y/N, that you do all these things for me without me having to ask.”
Suna pulls the both of you apart, cradling your face as he attempts to wipe your tears off. Despite his efforts however, you continue to cry, meanwhile struggling to breathe as you attempt to catch your breath. It feels like despite all the tears you’ve cried in private, seeing Suna recognise you brought a whole different wave of emotions.
“Don’t cry, I don’t want to see you crying because of me.” At that moment, Suna ponders for a bit as you see him look at you. You feel yourself freeze as he leans down to plant two kisses on both of your cheeks, an effort to dry your tears. Putting his forehead on yours, his thumbs continuously brush your jawline, as if he was admiring you. “It’s difficult for me to say Y/N, but I love you.”
Your eyes widen.
“I’ve loved you since elementary when you pushed that little boy off the swing after he pushed me off. I’ve loved you since middle school when you would sneakily put chuupets on my desk, even if you thought I didn’t know. You’re beautiful Y/N. And, I’m sorry for not thanking you earlier for everything you’ve done for me. I’m not brave like you, I can’t show the people I love that I care for them.”
“B-But the bento…”
“Of course I ate it. It hurts me to think that I didn’t, I just always asked Atsumu or Osamu to bring it back. You make me nervous Y/N. I can’t confidently walk up to you when you get prettier every time my eyes turn to you.
You make me weak, Y/N.” You huff, sniffling as Suna lands another kiss on the tip of your nose. He smiles and brings you in for another hug, but this time, your arms wrap around him tightly.
It is difficult to love Suna Rintarou.
It was a path fraught with uncertainties and moments of doubt. But as you stood there, holding the rain-soaked figure before you, you knew that the journey was worth it. Because in the depths of his guarded heart, you had found a love that was as powerful as it was fragile, as beautiful as it was challenging. And you were determined to weather the storm, to be the unwavering presence that helped him navigate the complexities of love and vulnerability.
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Text
This Love
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: Azriel would set the world on fire if it that’s what it took for his mate believe she deserves his love
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Warnings: None
Notes: Hiii! This is my first ACOTAR fic on tumblr! Az is my man my man my mannnn and I just love thinking about him. Here’s a little something that came to mind when I was listening to “This Love” by Taylor Swift
Image Credit: “This Love” Taylor’s Version lyric video
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Azriel sat hunched over in the plush velvet chair in Rhysand’s office. His elbows dug into his strong thighs as he clasped his hands together, focusing on the slow, mindless movement of his thumb over the ball of his knuckle.
“I think the Cauldron got it wrong.”
“Bullshit,” Cassian asserted eloquently.
“The Cauldron doesn’t simply ‘get things wrong’,” Rhysand said softly from where he leaned against the front of his desk, arms crossed contemplatively over his chest. Cassian, lounging in the chair across from Azriel, threw his hands in the air.
“It takes longer for some people than others, you know.”
“I knew far before Feyre did,” Rhysand supplemented.
“Anyone with eyes can tell how she feels about you. It’s beyond me you don’t see the way she looks at you, brother.”
Azriel was at a loss. Pining after the same woman for decades proved brutal on the heart. Downright treacherous, really, considering he felt the mating bond snap a long time ago and she had given almost no indication she felt anything of the like.
He knew she liked him in the way a person “likes” their best friend who knows them inside out, has been with them through every insignificant or life-altering moment, and embraces every part of them– even the messy bits. No, Azriel had no doubt in his mind that she loved him. She’d said as much multiple times, which left him feeling even more confused.
He didn’t want to push her for fear of ruining what they already had. Things were good, he’d even go so far as to say things were perfect between the two of them. He knew he wasn’t a knight in shining armor, the picture of good, and there were many things he’d done wrong to get to where he is today. Still, she was the one thing he did right. The best part about his life. Whether she knew it or not, it was his truth and he swore if it came down to it, he’d stand to do right by her before Prythian.
“She just has everything together. I don’t want to take up space in a life where she has everything figured out. We are in good places in each other's lives. I would hate to pressure her to change any of it for me.”
“You say that as if you'd be ruining her life,” Cassian’s anger simmered to a sadness. “She’d never think that.”
“And what about you?” Rhysand interjected. “You’re breaking your own heart waiting for her to feel the bond snap. Maybe you need to help her on.”
“I would never put her on the spot like that.”
“I wasn’t suggesting–”
“What if she’d rejected the bond somehow?” Azriel stood up, legs suddenly overcome with the sensation of a thousand little fire ants devouring his skin.
“Now you’re just making shit up.” Cassian huffed, returning to anger.
“How else can any of this be possible? How can she be so oblivious?”
“There is one way,” Rhys offered, suddenly solemn.
Azriel and Cassian looked to their brother expectantly. Azriel felt his heart hammer against his chest in anticipation. A reason was good. A reason was a start. A reason meant that there was a way out of this purgatory he found himself in.
“I read it in one of Amren’s books a long time ago,” Rhys locked eyes with Azriel. “When the mating bond has snapped into place for one of the fae in the pair and the other has absolutely no indication of it, usually it is a sign that they are not looking for a mating bond at all.”
“A lot of people don’t go looking for it,” Cassian reasoned. “I myself was more of the let-it-happen-when-it-will type.”
“Not looking for it in the sense that they don’t believe they deserve it. In the way that perhaps it's simply not meant for them.”
Silence fell over the three males. Azriel felt his heart shatter, pieces of it falling deep into his gut, turning it over and making him uneasy.
“If anyone doesn’t deserve this it’s me.” Azriel whispered.
“Don’t,” Cassian warned.
Rhys continued softly. “When they believe that, they inadvertently shield themselves from feeling anything… including a bond even if it does exist. A defense mechanism of sorts.”
The body protecting itself from heartbreak so painful that it registered it as a physical ailment. Azriel was going to be sick.
He couldn’t believe the love of his life felt that way. He wondered for how long she’d lived with such a belief, how long she’d been giving him her love while accepting none of his. He wanted to tear down the mountains around Velaris, move them, raise them, turn them to dust, anything he could manage to get her to believe him when he told her he loved her.
He barely felt he deserved her at all. It made him queasy with devotion and grief that she loved him enough to ever think she was the undeserving one.
Azriel was so far past worrying that she did not feel the mating bond anymore. All he cared about was making sure she knew she was loved by him in a way that brought him to his knees.
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Her second favorite part of the year after Winter Solstice: Starfall.
Elaine spent most of the day in the kitchen with Nuala and Cerridwen. Mor, Feyre, Nesta sat on her bed, lounging on the expansive mattress before it was time to get ready for the party.
While everyone else had their dresses picked out, she was still between options.
“Okay, option one.” She stepped out from behind the dressing screen, twirling dramatically in a golden trumpet dress that shimmered like woven sunlight.
Mor howled and Nesta smirked in satisfaction.
She turned to look into the mirror and study her body. She felt her heart palpitate as her mind immediately dared to wonder what Azriel would think. Would he like it? She shook my head quickly to clear the thoughts. It didn’t matter what he thought anyway.
Feyre sat back, tilting her head with a look in her eyes she couldn’t quite place. “It’s not bad. I caught a glimpse of the other gown earlier…” The ends of her mouth curled upwards.
The second dress was her personal favorite too. A silk, dark navy sheath that hung from her curves elegantly. It shimmered of silver and lavender under the light like the stars had been gathered from the sky and threaded into the material, one by one.
“Yes.” All three chanted at the same time as soon as she walked out again, clad in the dress that looked like it had been made only for her. There was no room for theatrics as her best friends gazed approvingly.
She did not need to look in the mirror to know this is the dress she wanted to wear. After all, she loved the color blue.
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The rest of the girls got ready before she did. She went back and forth on hairstyles and makeup multiple times. Nuala and Cerridwen were more than patient, as were her friends who all waited downstairs for her before they’d leave for the House of Wind together.
“This is as good as it will get, I suppose,” She looked in the mirror one final time before descending the stairs that led to the living room below.
As soon as she neared the middle of the stairs, a shadow slipped around her ankle and up her bare arm, sending goosebumps in its wake. It slipped back down her arms gently, like a lover’s admiring touch, and down the stairs again.
Azriel was the first to turn. His senses were always tuned to her without his knowledge or deliberate effort. Her presence was like a beacon in his darkness. A lighthouse to his boat on treacherous waters. He could sense her in a crowded room in a heartbeat just by the way his heart would pound and his skin would warm.
Their eyes locked and he felt a pull in his chest. Almost with a start, he realized it wasn’t even the mating bond, though it also hummed within him. Even despite the mating bond, tender yearning filled his chest at the sight of her standing at the bottom of the stairs now. Pure love. The Cauldron blessed him this one time, perhaps the only time it ever would, giving him the mate it did. Yet he knew, especially in that moment as he drank in the sight of her glowing skin, shy smile, and deep eyes, he would love her even if they were not bound together in this way. He knew he’d choose her over and over and over again. He’d give anything to have her look at him the way she was right now, forever.
Still, Azriel’s heart wrenched as he recalled why she couldn’t feel the mating bond– this thing that crooned and moaned, twisted and sung, wrenched and wrested to be felt by the only other person in the world who it belonged to, not understanding why it hit a wall everytime it tried to reach out to its other half. His other half.
Something like pride came over Azriel as he noticed everyone else stop and stare. Their friends welcomed her with hugs and kisses and compliments and he watched her be loved and by all of their friends. He wanted to say something as their eyes met again. What would he say first? Azriel had a waterfall of words teetering at the tip of his tongue, flowing straight from the pits of his heart, but supposed telling her she was beautiful was a good start.
But before he could say anything, Mor gathered her and Elaine into her arms before winnowing them to the House. Feyre, Nesta, and Amren followed them a second later.
Cassian clapped Azriel on the shoulder, a rare, soft smile on his lips. “Don’t waste another day, brother.”
With Varian uncomfortably nestled in Cassian arms, they were off to the House too.
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The celebration was grand as usual. Food and drink flowed from every corner of the room and everyone danced without a second to rest.
He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She danced with her friends for the longest time; Mor swirled her around the room and Nesta challenged her to keep up.
He stayed within the chattering crowd that boxed in the dance floor, sipping mulled wine and adjusting a fine thread on his jacket every now and again.
She excused herself from Nesta’s ceaseless dancing for some air. Her face was flushed, body warm, but she was happy. Once she reached the doors to the balcony and closed them behind her, she reveled in the immediate silence that followed.
The night air was cool on her flushed skin, the wind a caressing and most welcome touch.
A few minutes later, she heard the balcony door open behind her. Of course she didn’t need to turn around to see who it was. It was the only person that would follow her anywhere, no questions asked.
“Are you quite parched, yet?”
She turned around to find Azriel standing there, tall, broad, and beautiful, with two glasses of mulled wine.
“Quite.” She affirmed with a smile. He walked toward her until they were elbow to elbow, as close as he dared, before handing her the glass. She proposed they toasted to the spirits, who would begin their migration soon, for a safe journey. He obliged.
They sipped their wine in a comfortable silence. Any minute now the show would begin and everyone would move to the main balcony to watch and continue their dancing. This smaller balcony was perfect for just the two of them.
“You look beautiful tonight.” Azriel said as he did not bother to observe the first few stars that crossed the sky in glittery streaks of silver and gold. Next to her, everything else paled in comparison.
Her heart trembled at the compliment. It wasn’t the first compliment he’d given her, far from it, but coming from him they always meant so much.
With the wine in her system, accompanied with whatever was in Cassian’s flask when it was offered to her an hour ago, she said. “I wore this dress for you.”
The choice of color was not lost on him. The next few stars that soared across the sky caused his inky blue siphons to glisten in their glittery light. A perfect match to her silk.
“It suits you.” Azriel hated that his heart was hammering like this. He felt the love in his chest hum like a magnet, the bond snap like a rubber band against his lungs, stealing their air.
She didn’t say anything, only turned to look at him and he did not back away from her eye contact. Only returned it with such intensity that they now spoke with their eyes, a conversation that could never be expressed with mere words, an exchange between soulmates that remained only between them, not even the sky and stars privy to those thoughts.
Before his mind could refuse or reason with him, he closed the gap between the two of them, taking her elbow in his large hands. She allowed him to guide her to his strong body, eager to follow his lead.
His hands dropped to her waist, a respectable distance above her hips, though she would be pleased if he dared to go lower.
“I think about you all the time.” He spoke softly as he drew her as close as she could get. Their bodies were touching, and she was sure he could feel her heart hammering like a bird trying to take flight in a locked cage.
“You don’t,” She whispered as the stars began to rain across the sky in glimmering streams of light. Her mind screamed at her to pull away, to stop before she made a fool of herself. But her body forced her to stay put, to soak in his warmth, the feeling of him against her, to allow herself to indulge in this.
“I do.” His voice was strong, tone resolute. He held her gaze. “I would never lie. Not to you. You are the one thing in my life I would spend the rest of my immortality living for. You’ve captivated me since the moment I met you and if it takes the rest of my life to prove it, I would gladly call it my life’s work. I can’t keep this from you any longer. If that makes me selfish…”
She reached her hand out to cup his jaw. He leaned into it immediately. Her touch was soft against his face and he thought about how nice it would be to stay like this forever.
Starfall was in full effect. Music and laughter from the other balcony was but a distant, muffled, chorus to him and he watched the shine of the raining stars reflect off of her eyes and skin. Like a work of art, he observed. My mate, my mate, my mate, his insides thrummed.
He couldn’t take it any longer. He understood the look in her eyes, the silent permission, the mutual yearning. In an act of mercy, blessing, and loss of control, he slanted his lips over hers, dropping his hands lower on her waist, shifting one to her lower back to support how flush to his body he held her.
She wrapped his arms around his neck, damning the voices in her head telling her none of this was real, that he’d regret it and take it all back in the morning. Deep down she knew even if other men would, Azriel would never. She gave into him, leaned into him, let him in everywhere he demanded it.
She didn’t think about how long she spent in his arms, connected to him like this. Her breath hitched as he felt her squeeze her waist and use the hand that was at the small of her back to travel upward caressingly, taking his time to feel her skin, the dips and planes of her body through the silk, to rest at the back of her neck.
Azriel was so wholly in love he didn’t even have to think about his next move or any kind of thought. Being with her was natural, like second nature.
She pulled away just long enough to breathe, caressing his swollen bottom lip with her thumb as she moved to hold his jaw. He smiled drunkenly at her, watching as she blushed and indulged herself in the feel of his face.
As the stars rained over Velaris in glittering dashes across the perfect canvas of the night sky, she stood with Azriel, holding him as he held her, suddenly keenly aware of what it felt like to be loved by him.
Azriel’s eyes softened in realization, relief, as he felt the hum of the bond break through his chest for the first time in decades. It extended outward freely, like a bird let loose, soaring like the stars in the sky to meet its other half.
She gasped softly as she felt a snap in her chest. A snap that realigned worlds, parted clouds, mended something broken, that marked a shift in time.
She understood.
“Az…” she whispered, almost wanting to not believe it.
He nodded, letting her feel his touch as she worked through the new emotions.
“How long have you known?” She brought her arms down from his neck to hold his hands. His bigger palms enveloped hers easily, warm and strong. Sure.
“Decades.” He shook his head slightly as if it was common sense he’d been in love with her for so long, refusing to break eye contact with her.
“And all this time… you waited? You never– I never thought…”
“I can’t think of anything else I’d want to spend my entire life loving.” He swept a lock of her hair behind her ear to see her better. To remind himself this wasn’t a dream, not this time.
She allowed Azriel to pull her in again, savoring the way his lips tasted, how soft they felt, the way he held her like she’d vanish if he even lifted a finger. It was a grasp that made her want for nothing anymore. Everything she wanted was right here.
“It seems,” she breathed, slightly out of breath after they pulled away again. “I’ve kept you waiting for quite some time.”
“I’d wait any amount of time for you.” He murmured, running his thumb back and forth over the nape of her neck. “I’d do anything.”
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angelltheninth · 7 months
Note
OKAY BUT WHAT IF MIGUEL WAS THE VIRGIN?!
Omg Anon, your brain! Thank you for this!
Paring: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, virginity loss, size difference, a bit of teasing, growling, praise, gentle sex
A/N: Why do I find the idea of a virgin Miguel so appealing?
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Virgin!Miguel might be a virgin when it comes to his cock but things like fingering and oral sex are something he knows a lot about. He's done these things before but... well... he's always been very self-conscious of his size. Even if his previous lovers told him it was fine he never wanted to hurt them so he never really lost his virginity to anyone. You will be his first, the only one to ever get his cock.
"I don't think I'm very skilled in these things. I'm sorry but I've only had a few partners before this and it never went this far. Just looking at your pussy is... are you sure I'll fit in there? Of course I really want to, I'm as hard as a rock for you. But what if you don't like it? What if I'm too much? Take it slow? I can but... you need my cock now? You're a needy one."
Virgin!Miguel is indeed as hard as a rock for you but your next orgasm he would rather have you come all over his abs. So he does give you his cock, not in the way you'd expect though. His girthy dick slides over your clit, slow almost teasing pace to make you push your hips upwards. When you're about to come he presses down on you with his whole body, your cum rolling down his cock and abs when he moves away. He might be a virgin but he knows what you want.
"Sorry if I teased you. You gotta understand that it's the only thing I can offer you with confidence right now. When I see how cute you get, how much you want it, want me, want my cock to make you come I can't help myself. Looks like you're ready. Spread your legs please."
Virgin!Miguel shakes a little when the tip of his cock pushes inside your pussy, it's unlike anything he's felt before. All those toys he has and none of them could ever compare to the real thing. He knows that now. Might as well just throw them all away because now he has somewhere so much better to put his cock into. Although he has a pretty high libito so if you want to be his new toy you're gonna have to deal with his hard cock a lot.
"Fuck. Hold on, stop, I need to stop for a bit. Are all pussies this good or are you special? I don't think I'll be finding out any time soon cause I could get addicted to this one. I'm not even properly inside you and I already feel my balls tightening. Are you on birth control? Okay, so you won't mind if I come inside."
Virgin!Miguel comes hard as soon as he thrusts a few times. He thought that all the masturbating he did would prepare him for the real deal but apparently not. He's doing his best to fuck you through his orgasm in an effort to give you your. A lot of cum is pushed out and then back in as he slots your hips right against yours, his lips curled and teeth showing, little grunts and growls falling from his mouth
"Thought I'd last longer then this. Yeah, I'm a little embaressed, wouldn't you be if you couldn't last longer with the prettiest girl in the world? Are you sure those orgasms earlier were enough? I'll be hard again in an hour so I fully plan on making it up to you. What do you say pretty, will you help me with my endurance training?"
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httpswritings · 9 days
Text
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Poison Paradise — Aitana Bonmatí x Reader
Warnings: none.
Word count: Around 1,1k
Summary: Enemies to lovers (?) after a match.
Aitana tried to forget about how nervous you made her, but deeply inside, she knew any effort would be in vain. 
Spanish camp had been a stressful environment way before Aitana could remember, and that was key to getting closer with you.
Playing for Real Madrid against Barça had always been hell, but something shifted the last time you had to.
Aitana came up to you with a shy smile as she bit her lower lip.
Her eyes were widening and showed a mixture of victory and compassion.
She enjoyed playing against your team, relishing every victory against the historic rival in men's team history.
But watching you console your teammates as the first captain of your team was crushing her heart. You had walked all over the pitch, shaking hands with the Barça players, including Aitana, to then shift your focus to your teammates. 
Some of them were on their knees, others were crying or walking off the pitch as they stormed out, and some others did not care at all.
At one moment, the stadium felt way bigger than before, as the crowd sounds seemed to penetrate your ears until you were only able to hear a high-pitched sound. 
If you had been more aware of your surroundings, you'd probably have experienced a panic attack, but you were numb, and after another defeat against Barcelona, no one could blame you for not feeling anything anymore.
That's what Aitana noticed. She saw you looking at her as she approached you. Her soft smile quickly disappeared after noticing your blank stare. 
“Let's go inside? Do you need anything?”
She only got more worried after not getting any response back, quickly holding your hand to guide you as you both walked off the pitch.
As the two of you headed to your changing room, she got nearer you, her lips dangerously close to yours.
You started to feel more alive as her eyes looked at you.
Aitana looked visibly concerned.
“Let me get you some water.”
You harshly stopped her from leaving your side—maybe too harsh, as she bumped into you.
Your eyes widened, and you quickly apologized, thinking she was going to get mad, but she stayed quiet, looking from your neck to your lips.
You instinctively licked yours.
Your mind tried to regain focus, but could you blame yourself for not being able to?
She brushed your arms softly, as a way of easing you, but your thoughts had turned into a mess of neediness for her body.
You rolled your eyes when your teammate Maite approached you.
Maite had been Aitana's friend for a while, as they both had met some years ago during national camp.
She was visibly affected by the loss, too, so Aitana shifted the closeness of your body to Maite's, leaving you in a state of jealousy.
You weren't a jealous person; you didn't like Aitana, and you couldn't start having feelings for your biggest rival.
Surprisingly, Aitana had managed to get Maite head to your changing room.
She felt awful for brushing her friend off, but she needed to have a moment with you.
“Are you leaving now?”
You nodded.
She was running out of time.
Everything happened so fast.
The game, the aftermath, but somehow whenever she looked into your eyes, she felt time stopping, you being the only source of life.
Her hand rested on your waist.
“I'm proud of you.”
You rolled your eyes. 
Not at her words, but at the thought of the match you had just played.
“I appreciate it, but I don't feel like talking about this.”
She nodded and pulled you into a warm hug.
Her embrace made you almost cry, until you tilted your head, finding her neck.
It was an innocent move, the best way you found to stop the tears falling down, but as your nose softly brushed the skin of her neck, you noticed how she shivered and hissed in a low volume, even though you were able to hear it.
You separated a little bit from her, trying to figure out if she was feeling the same way as you.
You took as a confirmation the way she looked around, just in case someone was approaching.
It was not safe to do anything there, so Aitana grabbed your hand and pulled you into her team's changing room.
You froze at first, not wanting to enter the place where the players had been celebrating the victory, but you gave in and let her guide you through it.
The players looked curiously at you, not understanding why you were there or the quickness of Aitana to pull you into the bathroom.
“It's an emergency,” she informed her teammates, causing the opposite of what she had in mind, as they approached you both, who were already into a bathroom facility.
“Yes, she's fine. Don't worry.” 
You had to stop laughing as you shook your head, not being able to believe all the mess Aitana had done just to have some privacy with you.
She looked at you and slightly tilted her head to the left as a way of asking for permission, and you nodded.
With her hand placed on your left cheek, Aitana pressed her lips against yours.
Adrenaline rushed throughout your body.
You knew this was wrong; everything about this was awfully wrong.
But you couldn't get enough of the poison paradise Aitana's lips were. 
How could something so forbidden taste so good?
Her lips guided you through the kiss.
It started roughly, slowing down as you kissed.
Her knee pressed against your core as she was quick enough to cover your mouth.
You could hear the other players talking in the bathroom.
“Tell me you have some time left before you have to go. You don't know how much I've thought about this,” Aitana whispered.
You had to leave in about ten minutes, and you hadn't even showered.
“I can't...” 
She sighed.
“I've wanted this for a long time, too.”
Aitana looked up and smiled when she saw you smiling, warming her heart knowing the day you've been having.
She placed her head on your chest, “This is so wrong... Like so wrong.”
You laughed.
“I think we both know. But I really want— need to kiss you.”
Aitana looked at you as she licked her lips, and you laughed again, making her roll her eyes.
“Do I need to ask you?”
Aitana nodded, enjoying your desperation to feel her lips.
“Can you kiss me, Aitana?”
She softly grabbed your head, bringing it closer to hers but tilting it to the right, so she could reach your ear.
“As you wish, beautiful.” 
And with that, she linked her lips to yours, both of you tasting the bittersweet taste of rivalry.
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andrastepls · 26 days
Text
A/SMR.
synop: reader lost her hearing after an explosion, simon has an idea to help her ‘hear’ him again
warnings: none i think ? canon typical violence & loss of hearing maybe knda spicy
not proofread we die like men
Adjusting to life without sound had been a trial on its own. It was something no-one really prepared for — silly as it seemed, now. Bombs and guns going off right next to a person for any amount of time was bound to cause damage at one point or another. Or, maybe, she just had shit luck.
The blast had come and gone so quickly, she had no time to react. No one did. It missed anything vital, but it had sent her rocketing into a wall; promptly breaking her arm, a few ribs, and rupturing her eardrums all in one fell swoop. If nothing else, recovery went relatively smoothly. As smoothly as it could have, at any rate, what with Soap and Gaz being absolutely glued to the chairs in the infirmary. Even getting kicked out a few times — luckily, Price and the Lt. were a little less chaotic. Be it because the medic on-site had a soft spot, or because Simon had intimidated the poor guy, he had been allowed to spend the first two nights in the infirm with her.
Being tucked away in his arms did wonders for her anxiety, but the cot was a bit small for him alone, let alone the pair of them. Blessedly, she had been given the okay to return to her own quarters after that.
A few months later, and her bones were good and well healed, but her ears were another story. The specialist kind. The off-duty kind. The waitlist was long, and going home, alone, in the quiet, sounded like her own personal hell. So, she stayed on base to wait it out.
The silence was her enemy, deafening in its lack of any and everything. She swore she could forget the music the world made in a moment without it. It was cold, void and lonely. Missing out on jokes, not ever hearing the booming shouts and laughter of the boys. Sounds she never thought she’d miss.
It didn’t go unnoticed. For all his grumbling and brooding, Ghost was terribly good at being good company. She was thankful for him, at least. Perhaps now more than ever. He was . . . oddly tentative of her. Making a point to brush a hand against her when he was near, what was previously a hovering palm near her back was now an open-handed reminder someone was there.
He made learning to sign feel so much easier. Subbing out some signs for military signals. A natural transition, when the other person knew how to speak it — even when he didn’t need to.
It was a kindness done solely for her benefit; a fact in which he would never admit, but she knew it to be true nevertheless.
• • •
She felt out of practice. Clumsy and uncertain of herself when he touched her, nothing like herself, and he noticed. He pulls back from her, hands curving through the space between their chests to say, “You okay?”
She swallows, looking away. Embarrassment flushes her cheeks a shade of maroon, the heat of it crawling up her neck.
“It’s not you.” she signs back after a beat, eyes finding his with nothing short of pleading in her irises, “I miss you. But the sound - ”
Lithe hands flop into her lap. She feels . . . inadequate. Incomplete. Hateful, to herself, knowing that she can’t be who he loved first anymore, “I miss hearing you.” it was a cruel thing for the universe to do to her; give her a man to fall in love with, a voice that lulled her to sleep, filled her heart, tightened her legs — and then take it away from her. Leaving her in this muffled prison.
He makes a face at that - not one of ill intent or anything of the sort - rather, one of confusion. She missed hearing him?
He never thought his voice to be something worth missing; though, he quickly understands when his mind wonders what never hearing her again would be like. His girl is quieter now, to be sure. But he can still hear her - the little noises she makes, when she hums to herself without noticing . . . among other noises . . .
There’s a moment where he stays still, only his eyes moving between the two. She’s about to lift her hands so say something else, but he promptly cuts her off by taking one of her wrists between his fingers. Encouraging her to open her hand and bringing her palm up to rest around his throat.
She pauses, wide eyes blinking between their hands and his face — that frustrating little smirk of his curling his lips upward at the corners. She can’t make sense of what he’s doing at first, canting her head to the side like a confused dog, and then, he hums. The sound vibrating against her fingers. Her jaws drops open slightly in shock, eyes locked between her hand and his mouth, wanting to say ‘again’.
Alas, he was a step ahead of her, and mumbles out her name in a breath. Feeling her name in his throat before reading it on his lips.
Hm.
A/N: i dont know its 1am !!
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diejager · 2 months
Note
Hey! I love your monster au and was wondering how Monster! TF 141 + König and Horangi would react to Y/N getting a serious/ life-threatening injury during mission?
This reminds me of your request @thatgirlwhocantfindausername
Cw: injury, blood and gore, monster 141 cod, overprotective, implied death, worry, tell me if I missed any.
You were rushed to the ER for an emergency surgery to take care of at least a dozen bullet wounds, consciousness hanging on a loose thread and body standing between blood loss and high on morphine. The nurses had to keep the TF from barging into the operation room to let the surgeons and doctors do their work, then security was called to have them escorted to the waiting room, somberly filling the corridor with their dark mood.
They spent hours upon hours wondering if you’d make it, the most pessimistic of them already fearful and minds shutting down at the simple thought of burying you, or scattering your ashes, or being the bearer of bad news for the rest of your relatives. Despite the stoic mess in their faces, lips pulled thinly and eyes shadowed, there were little signs of panic, a crack in their facade that showed their terror and worry. They shouldn’t have let you go without them, without at least one of them by your side.
Price looked as if he’d burst a vessel, his jaw clenched and fingers locked together to stop himself from fidgeting. König didn’t share the reserve, finger fidgeting, scratching at the loose thread of his gloves or the cuff of his shirt. Ghost wasn’t far from working his hands, his restlessness coming off from his leg, bouncing endlessly as he burned a hole into the floor. Soap was mumbling, quiet words lost to everyone’s ears, and it seemed like Horangi and Alejandro occupied their thoughts the same, hisses and swears slipping from their tongues like a waterfall. Gaz’s face looked the most pained, biting his pretty lips and brows screwed together, his eyes closed to block out his visions. And Rudolfo, the most human of them all, felt his tears blur his vision, staring blankly at the wall with trembling lips and a heart-wrenching expression.
When the head surgeon came out in clean garbs and heavy bags under his eyes, his smile took away the heaviness that weighted on the group’s shoulders, telling them that you would be fine and that you made it, albeit hooked up on painkillers, liquids, and other substance to keep you stable. The surgeon had warned them that you’d be coming in and out of sleep, dazed and in pain, that you’d mumble and whimper, but you never lucid enough to be conscious of your words.
And the moment your eyes open, blinking away the sleep that clung to your mind, the rushed to your side, whispering prises and encouragements, happiness and relief spilling from their every pores as they give you space to breathe and take a moment to take in your situation, mind still swimming in drugs and pain. They spend your recovery sitting in your room, occupying your time with small stories and little banter, making sure that every moment you spent in bed were joyful ones.
Despite the long recovery - a week spent at the hospital and a few more unable to put in any work - they clung to you, leaving one or two of them sticking by your side in case of an accident or an emergency. They were ready to help you with anything: bathing, eating, massages, or sleeping, as long as it caused you a bit of pain or annoyance.
Oh, +1000000% big guard dog privileges. None of them will let you go off on your own anymore, you’ll have one at your every beck and call, following you around like a lost pup.
Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara
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girlgenius1111 · 4 months
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you talk of the pain like it's all alright
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well i was too into this to not write part 2 right away, so here! the downside is i have not proofread oops.
warnings: nightmare, kind of a panic attack... worries of self harm, but no actual self harm. angst but more fluff :)
The drive to Alexia's apartment was uncomfortably quiet. You could tell that she was trying not to push you, which was not the norm. It made sense though; your actions this evening had really worried her, and she was at a loss for how to help you.
"Does your hand hurt?" She asked, breaking the silence, but keeping her eyes fixed on the road.
"Only a little," you replied, lying through your teeth. You'd rejected any meds from the physios, and your hand ached, pain pulsing from various areas of your knuckles, highlighting the multiple fractures.
"I'll give you something for it when we get home," she told you.
"No, really, it's fine." You mumbled. Your hand hurt because of your own actions, because you'd been stupid and impulsive. It should hurt. In the back of your mind, you realized how unhealthy this thinking was, but you pushed that thought away.
"If you're in pain, you should take something. Just because you did something dumb doesn't mean you deserve to be in pain," Alexia told you, very gently. You tried to hide your surprise at how accurate she was, completely taken aback by her perceptiveness.
Instead of responding, you turned to face out the window, watching the city pass by. Alexia sighed when you didn't say anything; you were really getting tired of that sigh. It sounded like it was full of disappointment in you, even if that wasn't the intention.
-----
You received what felt like the millionth sigh from Alexia when you walked into her apartment. She asked if you wanted to talk, obviously trying to be casual, but you shook your head, telling her you were tired.
"You can't avoid this forever, y/n."
"I'm just tired, Ale, I'm not trying to avoid anything." If she wasn't so worried, she would have laughed at the blatant lie.
"Fine. We'll talk tomorrow," she said, and you nodded, not yet sure how you were going to get out of that one. She was clearly frustrated with you, and you hated it. You already felt bad that you'd made her worried enough to make you stay with her, and the guilt you felt for not being honest was quickly replacing your resolve to keep everything to yourself.
Alexia pointed you towards the guest room, before disappearing to get you something to sleep in. You sat on the bed, running your hands over the soft comforter. Carefully, you took of your brace, wincing at the sight of your hand. It was swelling, already bruised. You were so frustrated, so defeated. You took a shaky breath, trying to stave off the tears that were rapidly gathering in your eyes.
"Okay, these might be kind of big on you, but they... should work..." Alexia returned, voice growing quieter as she looked at you. You were staring at the ground, eyes welled with tears, cradling your hand to your chest. Your lower lip was trembling, and you were blinking rapidly, trying to pull yourself back together. She hadn't seen you look so vulnerable in a really long time, and she wasn't sure how much you'd allow her to comfort you.
The Catalan placed the pajamas on the bed, before carefully walking over to where you were seated. You sucked in a big breath, prepared for another speech, but none came. Instead, Alexia was pulling you into her, arms wrapping around your shoulders, pressing your head into her stomach. Her thumbs moved rhythmically in circles against your shirt. Abandoning your resolve momentarily, you wrapped your arms around her, pressing your face into her. You clutched at her shirt desperately with your good hand, and she held you tighter.
She ran a hand through your hair, speaking quietly to you. "Everything is going be okay, pequeña, I promise. We're gonna figure it out, whatever it is."
She felt you nod almost imperceptibly against her, and took the small victory. She pecked the top of your head, before pulling back.
"Sleep now, you must be exhausted. And wake me up if you need me." She paired her words with a reassuring smile, waiting for you to nod again, before leaving the room.
You changed, wiping all traces of your small breakdown off your face, before climbing into the bed. You were exhausted, too exhausted to try to stay awake. You hoped you were tired enough to not have any nightmares, but luck hadn't really been on your side recently.
-----
Sure enough, you'd only been asleep for a few hours when your dreams soured. It was a familiar nightmare, one that you had frequently. It consisted of you missing a goal, a game winning goal. The fans screamed at you, your opponents mocked you. Worst of all, your teammates were angry too, your captains and Jona yelling at you for not doing better, for not being better.
In the other room, Alexia woke from a light sleep to the sound of you whimpering. She was out of bed in a second, almost falling in her haste to get to you. Entering the room, she saw you rolling around, tears leaking from your eyes. You were talking through your cries, but she couldn't understand what you were saying.
Crossing the room, she sat on the edge of the bed, placing her hands on your shoulders and shaking. You sat straight up, gasping for air. Your wild eyes found Alexia, and before you knew it, you were throwing yourself into her arms, letting out loud, unrestrained sobs.
"Alright, you're okay. It was just a dream. Slow your breathing down, you're safe, I've got you." You barely registered Alexia's words, just so grateful that it was a dream, that she wasn't really mad at you.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," You cried. You weren't really sure what you were apologizing for, but you couldn't seem to stop.
"Shh, y/n, it's okay. You don't need to be sorry," she told you. She was holding you tightly against her, rocking you back and forth; she wasn't sure why, but it felt right, and it seemed to work. You were calming down.
And as the panic faded, embarrassment took it's place. You pulled yourself out of Alexia's arms, a horrified look on your place.
"No, y/n, it's okay, really, don't-" You cut her off, leaping from the bed and all but sprinting into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind you. You sat against the wall, burying your face in your hands. You could hear Alexia knocking on the door, her panicked voice calling to you, but none of it registered. You were so distraught, so upset that she'd seen you like that. How could you let this happen?
"Y/n, please, please open the door. You don't need to be embarrassed, I'm not mad or upset. I just need to know that you're okay." Alexia was begging, not hearing any response.
Her mind was racing, thinking a million things at once. Whether she could break down the door, what was in there that you could hurt yourself with. She tried everything she could think of to get you to open the door, from pleading to using her stern captain voice, to soothing tones, back to pleading. It had been minutes, and you still hadn't answered. She could hear your ragged breathing, which was some comfort.
She didn't know what to do, how to fix this. Hands shaking, she grabbed her phone, calling the only other person she knew you trusted.
-----
Mapi hadn't expected today to turn out how it had. Not your red card, not your impulsive actions, your total disregard for yourself. She didn't expect the frantic call from Alexia in the middle of the night; Alexia was almost crying, a sign to Mapi that what was going on was bad. More than anything though, she didn't expect Ingrid to take charge the way she did, throwing shoes at her and rushing her to the car.
Ingrid drove fast, hands clenching the steering wheel. Mapi knew Ingrid was an empathetic person, a kind person, but she hadn't expected the Norwegian to join her in this, with this intensity. As Ingrid led her inside Alexia's apartment, determined, Mapi couldn't help but be so incredibly glad that her girlfriend was so perfect.
-----
Noise had faded for you, and all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears. You needed to breath, you knew that. You also knew you needed to tell Alexia that you were okay, that you weren't going to do anything stupid. You were completely frozen though, all your energy focused on gasping little amounts of oxygen into your body, just enough to keep you conscious.
-----
Alexia was sat against the bathroom door, saying pretty much anything that came into her mind. The sound of you struggling was too painful for her to listen to, and she couldn't allow herself to do nothing. She only felt relief at the sight of Ingrid and Mapi. The three of them, together, could fix this, she was confident.
"What happened?" Mapi asked, flinching at the sound of your desperate breaths through the door. Alexia had been barely comprehensible when she called, and Mapi only really understood that something had happened, and you'd locked yourself in Ale's bathroom. Her and Ingrid took seats against the hallway wall near the door as Alexia responded.
"I think she had a nightmare. I went to wake her up and she was so upset, crying so hard. And I calmed her down but then she was pulling away and running out of the room. The look on her face. God she was so horrified that I'd seen her like that." Alexia's voice cracked as she spoke. "I've been trying to get her to open the door but she either can't hear me or she won't open it."
Mapi clenched her fists, before asking the question they were all thinking. "What's in there?"
Not 6 hours ago, you broken your hand punching a wall. They still weren't sure what your intention was with that, and the thoughts of what you could be doing, a locked door in between you, were terrorizing your friends.
Alexia just shook her head. "I don't know, I can't remember. I thought about breaking down the door, but... I don't want to freak her out any more."
Ingrid looked between her the other girls, the solution clear to her. "Did you try to pick the lock?" She asked. Alexia looked at her blankly.
"I don't know how to do that?" Alexia responded, sounding confused.
"Get me a bobby pin." Ingrid instructed, and Alexia scrambled off to her bedroom, uncharacteristically frantic.
"You... you know how to pick a lock?" Mapi asked, completely surprised. Ingrid seemed like the last person she knew that would have that knowledge. Ingrid was a rule follower.
Ingrid looked at her, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, Maria. Doesn't everyone?" She remarked.
Mapi looked even more confused. "No?" She said, her response sounding like a question rather than an answer to one. Alexia returned then, thrusting about 8 bobby pins into Ingrid's hands. Again, Ingrid almost rolled her eyes, wondering what kind of fun the teens had in Spain that they didn't learn how to pick locks. She dropped all but one of the bobby pins, turning towards the door.
Alexia and Mapi exchanged looks, and in the time that took, Ingrid had the door clicking open. They all looked in, distressed, letting out simultaneous sighs of relief at the sight of you. You weren't okay by any means, hunched into a ball, hands pressed tight over your eyes. You weren't hurt though, and that's really all that they were concerned about.
The girls paused, unsure what to do now. It hadn't seemed like you'd noticed them enter the bathroom, and they weren't sure what they could do to without startling you. Ingrid, full of surprises today, took the lead, moving to sit next to you, careful not to touch you. The other girls sat too, albeit a little farther away.
You were so in your head, so not aware of anything around you. You knew someone was speaking to you, closer than they were before, but that was it.
"Hey, y/n, can you hear me?" Ingrid said, voice hushed. You gave no indication that you could. "I'm gonna put my hand right next to you. If you can hear me, I want you to touch my hand." Her voice was so soothing, it broke through the fog in your mind.
After a minute, you pulled your good hand away from your face, and shakily reached for her hand. Ingrid kept her's open, palm facing up, until you wrapped your hand around, gripping tightly.
"Good, that's really good, elskling. Can you move your other hand? It looks like it's hurting, honey." You realized Ingrid was right, and unclenched your broken hand, pulling it away from your face with a whimper. They could see your face now, cheeks flushed and eyes puffy. You avoided looking at the other girls, keeping your eyes trained on the ground even as you stretched your legs out, bringing your hand to your chest. You were still holding Ingrid's hand though, which she took to be a good sign.
"I'm gonna get you some ice, pequeña, is that okay?" Alexia asked, voice softer than you'd ever heard it. You nodded mechanically, because your hand really did hurt. Alexia stepped out of the bathroom, and Mapi spoke this time.
"Can you look at me, y/n? Please?" You'd never heard Mapi like that, desperation clear in her voice. You gave in, lifting your head to meet her eyes. Briefly, you wondered when the hell Mapi and Ingrid had arrived, but Mapi spoke before you could ask.
"You don't need to be embarrassed. You didn't do anything wrong, we're not mad at you, not even a little bit. We just want to help, cariño, can you let us do that?" There wasn't much reason to resist anymore, nothing really left to hide.
"Okay." You said quietly, voice raspy from crying. Alexia returned in time to hear your answer, and this time she was sighing out of relief. It was a nice change.
She sat beside you, gently taking your mangled hand in her own, and wrapping it carefully in an ice pack. You grimaced, squeezing Ingrid's hand a little tighter. In response, she moved her thumb up and down the back of your hand. Alexia held the ice pack in place, not really sure what to do now.
"When did you guys get here?" You asked finally, looking towards the couple.
"A bit ago. Ale called us, she wasn't sure how to get you to open the door." You nodded, feeling guilty for worrying them.
"How did you get in?" You wondered.
"Ingrid must have a criminal background she'd hiding from us, because she picked the lock in 2 seconds flat," Alexia responded, voice jokingly exasperated. You looked at Ingrid, shocked.
"Who doesn't know how to pick a lock!" Ingrid said again, looking between the three of you.
"Most people, I'd say. It's okay, amor, I think it's hot that you used to break in places." Mapi joked.
Ingrid glared at her, her response dying in her mouth when you pulled your hand from her grasp and shuffled closer to Alexia, leaning into her. The girls looked at each other, never really having seen you seek comfort out like this. Alexia wrapped an arm around you taking in your exhausted expression.
"How about we go to bed? We can talk in the morning, when you're feeling better." She suggested, and you agreed.
"I promise I'll talk to you guys." You said quietly. Your friends smiled at you. You really didn't want Ingrid and Mapi to leave, but you weren't really sure how to ask for that. Luckily Alexia's mind reading powers seemed to have returned full force.
"You guys wanna crash in the extra bedroom?" She asked. The couple nodded, and you looked confused. Where were you supposed to sleep?
Alexia pulled you to your feet, holding part of your weight up as you were unsteady on your legs. "Cmon, I'm not letting you out of my sight." She said, leading you into her room. The couple peeled off into the extra bedroom, wishing you a goodnight. Alexia pulled you towards her bed. You were so passed arguing, you let her guide you onto the bed, scooting under the covers. She climbed in next to you letting you wriggle into her. She wasn't sure if you were being snuggly because you were exhausted, or emotional, but she didn't care.
For the first time in weeks, she felt like she had an idea of what was going on in your head, and if you needed physical comfort, she was more than happy to provide it.
You felt safe, comforted, even if anxiety still fluttered in your chest at the thought of talking to your friends in the morning. You passed out almost instantly, regardless, and Alexia followed soon after.
-----
part 3 probably tomorrow because i'm obsessed with this
516 notes · View notes
findmeinforks · 3 months
Text
Stay - Paul Lahote X Fem!Reader
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Happy 2024! I honestly didn't know what to call this, but I just kept writing and now I'll probably need a part 2 🙃 enjoy 💕 2.8K words
"You have no idea how excited I am. I mean just how long have I been begging you to come live with me?" Emily grinned into the phone that was tucked between her shoulder and ear. She paced the kitchen while whisking a bowl of brownie mix, mindlessly chatting away.
"I must warn you though that the house does get chaotic. But the boys are pretty good about keeping up after themselves," she said while swatting away Embry's hand that almost made a dip in the bowl. He put his hands up in self defense as she rolled her eyes.
"Sounds great. Sam will pick you up at the airport tomorrow at noon. Let me know if you need anything else, and have a safe flight. I love you!" She she set the bowl on the counter, hanging up the phone.
"Was that Y/N? She's moving in tomorrow?" Quil questioned from the table with a mouth full of chips.
"Yes, and I trust that you boys will be on your best behavior in welcoming her..." Emily raised her eyebrow as she pointed a dripping whisk of batter at all the men now surrounding the kitchen.
"Depends, is she hot?" Embry snickered as he sat down.
"Oh....she is." Quil emphasized with wide eyes.
"Get it Embry!" Paul snorted as he clapped him on the back, reaching over into Quil's bag of chips.
"They WILL be on their best behavior. And no one will be 'getting' shit." The booming voice of Sam emerged behind Emily, wrapping his arms around her torso.
He reached his head over her shoulder as she let him lick what was left on the whisk, earning a disgusted "Seriously?" from Quil.
"Hey, but what if she's my imprint??" Embry held his up his finger to argue.
"You know that would be a different story...but we know already she isn't Quil's" Sam smirked at the youngest pack members now disappointed face.
"You guys are kidding right? I've seen pictures. Shes insanely out of all your leagues." Jacob quipped as he strolled to the living room.
"Anything is better than my crushes newborn infant..." Embry muttered under his breath, making all the boys cower in laughter.
"Oh yeah? You wanna say that again?" Jacob challenged.
Sam walked around in between them, looking from side to side at them both.
"THIS is what Emily is talking about. Keep the fights outside boys. I mean it. Just because Y/N knows about the pack doesn't mean she won't get scared if you clowns nearly phase in the kitchen. Are we clear?"
The two reluctantly nodded, Jacob sulking away to the living room.
"But come on, that was kinda funny.." Embry whispered, making the other boys giggle.
Paul shook his head with a smile at his little brother, leaving the room to shower before dinner.
-
There was something about the conversation that stuck with Paul throughout the night. Since Sam had met Emily, all of his brothers wanted imprints. They all saw what it was like to have one up close, and craved it desperately. He grimaced at the thought. The idea of a "soulmate" sounded ridiculous to Paul.
The problem wasn't that he didn't believe in it. Anybody could see the intense love that imprints had for one another, their bond growing with them until old age.
But Paul was not familiar with the term love. He never did get to see the love between his father and mother. She had been his imprint, but passed long before Paul could remember much about her. He watched his father struggle emotionally, never being able to get through the grief of her loss. Sure, he raised Paul as best he could, but deep down it was his mother that would have filled the void in their quiet house.
Things did get a little brighter when Paul joined the pack. For the first time he truly felt like he was part of a real family. He came home to hot meals, genuine laughter, and lively conversation. Not only had he gained a group of brothers, but ones with unwavering loyalty. None of them ever strayed away when Paul lost control of his temper, and were the first ones to help him learn to control it.
Maybe that was the reason he never looked for anything serious when it came to women. What was the point? One little outburst and they were out the door quicker than they had come in. He didn't allow himself to feel anything for them, because they'd end up leaving, and he was saving himself the heart break anyways.
Paul lay awake that night certain about one thing, he didn't need an imprint.
-
You inhaled the crisp fall air. Smiling wide as you looked up the steps to the new home awaiting you, the patio adorned in different flowers and cutesy outdoor decor.
"Oh Em it's just how I remember. You always make it look so cozy," you said as you squeezed the arm of your cousin beside you.
She returned your same smile.
"You're too sweet. I just can't believe you're really here. Come on, I'll introduce you to the boys."
You followed her up the steps, walking through the door to the warm smell of baked goods, no doubt that Emily had been up all night. You chuckled to yourself as you remember how she would go overboard on food whenever she was excited about something and couldn't sleep.
What you weren't used to, however, was being greeted by the several shirtless men. All incredibly in shape with tattoos on their arms, you might have been intimidated if it weren't for their cheesy smiles.
Emily gestured to each of them,
"You remember Quil, and that's Embry, Jacob, Seth, andddd well," she looked around puzzled for a moment. "I guess I'll introduce you to Paul whenever he comes around."
You waved at Quil and shook the other's hands.
There must have been some sort of inside joke, because as you finished with introductions you saw Sam laugh while they collectively let out a small sigh.
You don't think you were meant to hear it, but you caught Sam whisper at Embry,
"Better luck next time kid."
Emily didn't make a big deal of whatever it was, guiding you to your room.
After you got settled in, you found yourself strolling the hallway, looking over all the framed pictures on the wall. You had been over the moon when Emily had found Sam. You've never seen her so happy before, and you could tell he looked at her in the exact same way.
Not paying attention when the bathroom door opened, you collided with a large bare chest that stepped into the hall.
You gasped as two strong arms to match caught you before you fell, luckily, and you embarrassingly faced the one man you of course had no former introduction with.
"I am so, so sorry. I-"
"No no it's fine, are you-"
Both of you started and stopped mid sentence. Your attention had been captured when you two locked eyes. It was like you had been anchored to the floor by them. This warm, fuzzy energy had your entire body buzzing. It was so silent that you could hear your own blood flow in your ears. You furrowed your eyebrows in the haze. What the hell...
"ARE YOU SHITTING ME??"
A loud voice cut through the trance and you flinched at the abrupt sound. The man held you slightly tighter for a moment, as if he was about to protect you from whatever had interrupted you both in this hypnotic state.
Turning around so you both could see that the voice had been Embry, the man looked back and quickly dropped his arms, as if he just realized he had been holding you that whole time.
An unfamiliar emptiness lingered when he let go. He quickly averted his gaze, mumbling another apology before brushing past you, into a room, shutting the door.
-
His imprint. Right there. In the hallway of his own home.
Paul couldn't breathe.
He sat on the edge of his bed, nervously running his hands through his hair in a panic.
You were beautiful.
Breathtaking.
Your smell was intoxicating and your skin was so, so very soft. Your voice sounded like an angel. Your hair-
No.
No, he couldn't let himself think like this. He didn't need an imprint. Didn't even want one in the first place.
Was this some kind of sick joke the universe was playing on him? This girl could have anyone she wants. Why him?
Emily's call for dinner had him taking deep breaths. He could do this. They could live amongst eachother and not have to talk. There's ton of people in this house, it would be rare that the two of them would ever be alone. Right? Right. He could do this.
He walked into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. Wake up. It's just some girl. No different than the many that he had been with. Hell, if he could have sex with someone and never think of them again, he could do it. They had barely exchanged a sentence. Barely touched. He would be fine.
-
You sat down at the table, trying to behave as normal as possible. What happened in the hall was nothing. Whiplash. Yes, it was probably the whiplash from running into him. The poor guy seemed shy, and he was most likely just as shook up as you. It was a small accident and nothing more. He certainly didn't seem angry or upset, just caught off guard.
But wow....was he handsome. Certainly more attractive than any lousy guy you'd ever been with. He had this aroma of sandalwood and forest that was enchanting.
Okay, slow down Y/N. Let's not walk in on the first day and jump on some guy. After all, you two are going to be living together. Maybe don't make him uncomfortable in his own home. You shook your head to yourself. Just forget about the whole thing and it will be fine.
Luckily, Emily had started conversations around the table, easily able to take your mind elsewhere.
That was, until he came in the room. There was a beat of silence when he entered, the other boys seeming to look at him like they were anticipating something. When he didn't make a sound or even look up to anyone, slumping at the table and taking a plate, the conversations arose again.
Dinner was excellent as usual for Emily's cooking, and besides your beating heart constantly begging you to look at the man near the end of the table, it was almost normal.
It was when Emily put delicious brownies on the table, that it took a turn for the worse.
"I'M NOT GOING TO TELL YOU AGAIN. SHUT THE FUCK ALONE ABOUT IT" Everyone's head turned to the angry voice. It was him. He was so visibly upset that he was shaking, staring daggers at Embry beside him. Slamming his fists on the table as he stood up, you let an audible gasp slip.
That's when he looked at you for the second time that night. It was a far reach, but somehow you saw his eyes soften. The crinkles of anger in his eyebrows vanished, and he swallowed, before bolting out the door. Sam immediately followed, and Emily sighed, reaching out to touch your arm.
"I'm sorry about Paul. He's very.....expressive sometimes."
Paul.
-
"Leave me alone Sam."
Paul sighed through the mind link, his large wolf racing through the trees.
He didn't mean it. He never means it. But Embry would simply not stop talking. First it was meaningless. He asked what imprinting felt like. Paul had shrugged it off as nothing crazy, hoping he'd drop it there. Then, he had asked him if he planned on pursuing the imprint. Of course he told him he wasn't. He didn't need a soulmate. No matter what his instincts told him. But then, Embry had smiled and thanked him, telling him that you were now "fair game".
That had been when he lost it.
He stopped on the edge of a cliff, breathing in the fresh water air. Sam slowly approached his side.
"Embry only said that to get a rise out of you, you know."
Paul scoffed.
"He can do whatever he wants. I don't care about her."
"Oh you don't?" Sam didn't sound so convinced.
"Even if I did, she wouldn't want me. Did you....did you see the look on her face when I yelled?" Paul replayed it over and over. You had looked absolutely frightened.
"There is a reason she was chosen to be your imprint Paul. You don't know Y/N. She is patient, and most of all understanding. If you talked to her-"
"I don't need to talk to her. I am perfectly fine alone. I don't need a woman, and I definitely don't need an imprint."
Sam sighed.
"Paul. You can do what you want. I'm not the type of alpha to force you to love someone. But believe me when I say that I had a dark past. I was also comfortable with being alone. Emily is the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Having a conversation with her doesn't mean there will be wedding bells tomorrow. All I'm saying is you don't know unless you try."
Paul nodded, and Sam left him with his thoughts.
-
You stared at the numbers on your phone screen. 2:00am. You huffed in frustration. Your mind had been a constant replay of the events today, your mind spiraling. You had settled on the fact things around here were weird, when you had visited Emily and accidentally caught sight of Sam in wolf form. But this energy couldn't have anything to do with that. Could it?
You decided to make yourself some tea to try and relax. Knowing Emily you knew there had to be some in the kitchen. You tip toed in the dark, your body stiffening as you recognized a familiar muscular back that sat at the kitchen table in a dim light.
You were ready to retreat back to your room when he turned his head around to look at you.
Damn, wolves must have good hearing.
"I was just....going to make some tea.." you pointed to the cabinet awkwardly.
He nodded, looking back down at what appeared to be a cup of coffee.
He couldn't sleep either?
You mindlessly tapped your fingers against the counter as you awaited the kettle, praying that if you stared at it long enough, it would speed up the process.
-
Fuck, was this torture. You were like a goddess, standing there in your pajamas, hair astray and up in a haphazard bun. He imagined walking up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, soaking in your warmth while he pressed gentle kisses on your neck. He wondered what it sounded like to hear you laugh...
STOP STARING. Say something. Anything. Just. Try.
He cleared his throat. It must have startled you because you quickly turned to face him.
"I'm...sorry. About what you saw earlier. That's not like me. I-Embry, he can get under my skin sometimes," he rubbed the back of his head.
"But that's no excuse. I'm-um, Im Paul, by the way."
He lifted his hand up in an almost wave. Why was he so awkward? He was never this way with women.
You giggled, and suddenly, he felt like he was in heaven.
"Y/N. And no worries at all, Emily said you can be....'expressive' sometimes."
He chuckled.
"That's one word for it. But I just don't want to scare you off..."
"Well. I think if knowing that you can all turn into a large creatures who can rip me apart and that doesn't scare me away, I think you were okay." You smiled. He could look at that smile forever.
-
He was actually talking to you. Man, was his laugh so perfect. You could talk with him forever.
The kettle screeched, and you reluctantly made your tea.
"Well....I guess I'll see you around, Paul." You took your mug and headed for your room.
-
His name on her tongue. He wanted her to say it again.
"You can stay. If-if you want. I, uh, I don't...know much about you."
You smiled.
"I'd like that."
To be continued......
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star-anise · 2 years
Text
This is what the fight is like
Sooo, apparently the extremely tenuous and recent nature of the LGBTQ+ community's legal right to exist was not actually super widely known to a lot of people on Tumblr?
Which clarifies some stuff in retrospect. I have so often wanted to grab people by their lapels and shout, "Stop picking on someone for not meeting your entry requirements! We need everyone we can get, you asshole! DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THEY HATE US OUT THERE?"
Aaaapparently... no, they did not know. Or they knew and were a conservative psyop preparing the ground for our loss of legal rights. Fun times!
So: Look, it is bad. Shit is scary. They really do hate us out there. You're not wrong.
But: This is what we've always fought. This boat we're in with its antique fittings and strange markings on the floor is a battleship. Work has always been going on in the basements, and when shit gets tough, we clear away clutter and roll out the cannons.
I found this chart a couple weeks ago and hung onto it because it felt like the map to my first 25 years on this earth:
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[Image description: A graph titled "Same Sex Marriage: Public Polls since 1988." It is from FiveThirtyEight's NYT column. It records the percentage of US Americans polled who would say yes or no to legalizing same-sex marriage, from 1988 to 2011.
The two lines begin with roughly 10% saying yes in 1988, and 70% saying no; the two lines gradually draw closer over the years, until by 2011, the percent saying finally dips under 50%, and the group saying yes makes a tentative reach for the majority. End of image description.]
After some great social change has happened, when everyone has admitted that gay marriage is very cute and Pride is a colourful parade, hooray, people like to pretend that it was just natural and inevitable and happened on its own. People just became less prejudiced! Courts just decided on a case! Governments just passed a law!
In reality, it was a vicious fucking fight, every fucking time. Every fucking where. There are a lot of people who deeply, sincerely believe that a hundred years ago, society had good rules about sex and gender and intercourse and marriage, and that changing those rules has made the world worse. They don't always agree on the specifics, but they can work together far enough to fight anyone with new ideas.
This is why we are a community. Even when we don't have the same experiences of attraction or identity, even when we don't do the same things, even when we have wildly different ideas of a good time. Because when these groups take aim, we're all under fire, and none of us is responsible for why they hate us.
In some ways I think it's a miracle that there seems to be a generation that did not grow up, as I grew up, constantly glued to news reports about What Percentage of Society Hates Us this month. I can't imagine who I'd be if my brain and heart and soul hadn't been tied up, that whole time, in the political question of whether I'd get to dream of a decent future.
I think that it will give us strength to have people who can imagine a world where no one hates us. Who believe in it so strongly they can taste it. That's my prediction: If you didn't know this was coming, you'll be a boon to us, because we have always needed joy so fiercely, in this fight, to keep us going on. We have needed drag queens and punk bands and "her wife" and safe space stickers. Parade floats and wedding days and little dogs with rainbow collars, badges and banners and meetups, because more than anything else we need to fight our own despair, and our fear that the world will never get any better than this.
It will. We know it will. We can taste it.
Look up to the history, organizations, and people who've got us this far for information on what forms of activism will actually advance our political goals. Look to the side to make sure the comrades within reach are keeping their heads above water, and that you're keeping enough joy going to stay alive. Look back to see who's more vulnerable than you are that you might have forgotten or been tempted to leave behind. Look after each other. Look after yourself.
We can do this.
To your battle stations.
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