#And i like that. No filter no worries in the moment and im just like... I want what you have but ill settle to being around you

[delulujuls]

birds of a feather | joost klein

hi, its me again. i know its been a hot minute since i posted here but literally i have no idea when the past month left.

anyway, im alive and i finally got a chance to write something, so here it is. its nothing that i used to post here i guess, but i it means a lot to me. while writing this i remembered all of those dark days that i managed to survive. and i guess, joost himself did too.

please, if you struggle with mental health or you just dont feel good at that moment, i do not recommend to read this. feel free to text me if you need to talk to someone.

remember that you are not alone. you can get trough everything as long as you have you.

je bent sterker dan je denkt

summary: joost is struggling with his mental health, but so do reader. but together its a bit easier to go through storm and its even better to look at the rainbow with someone dear by your side.

warnings: struggling with depression, ed, parents loss

pairing: fem!bff!reader x joost klein

Snow fell throughout the night, so the next morning, all of Leeuwarden woke up under a heavy, white blanket.

However, some didn’t get the chance to wake up because they hadn’t managed to close their eyes at all. One of those people was a girl laying down with open eyes in her dark room.

Despite having no desire, motivation, or strength, after a while she sat up in bed more than an hour before her alarm was set to go off. She wrapped herself in the blanket and closed her aching eyes. It felt as if someone had poured two bags of sand under her eyelids.

Her room was in complete darkness, with only the warm, yellow light from a streetlamp filtering in through the uncovered window. The whole house was silent, and nothing outside suggested that anyone else existed in the world but her. She could hear her tear-stuck eyelashes pulling apart with each blink.

She sighed heavily and rubbed her face with her hands before finally getting out of bed. She couldn’t afford to skip class; she had already accumulated too many absences recently. The last thing she wanted was to deal with her teacher, who kept repeating the same thing over and over— that she should talk to her parents, that she would call in a psychologist. Just let me live, woman, she thought. Or better yet, let me die.

With a soft groan of displeasure, the girl pulled off her warm sweats and quickly put on an uncomfortably cold shirt and hoodie. The jeans she put on were also unpleasantly cold and stiff. The chill around her cut to the bone.

When she went to the bathroom and turned on the light, she squinted with a grimace. She shuffled over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Nothing surprising stared back at her. Puffy, red eyes from crying, chapped lips, and skin irritated from a runny nose. She sighed and looked down, tying up her hair and turning on the tap, trying to make herself somewhat presentable.

When she finished, she didn’t look much better. The last thing she felt like doing was putting on makeup. A shower from the previous evening was the best she could manage. Before going downstairs, she grabbed her backpack and phone, glancing at the screen. Beside the clock, it was empty. Worried that maybe WhatsApp had failed, she opened the app and clicked on her last conversation. Joost hadn’t replied to her messages since the night before. She sighed and shoved the phone into her pocket. She knew she wouldn’t go straight home after class.

Not feeling like eating breakfast, she simply put on her shoes, jacket, and left the house. It was even colder outside, so she pulled her hood over her head and wrapped herself in a scarf. She couldn’t wear gloves—how else would she change songs, she thought, putting her tangled earphones in.

Even more snow had fallen than it seemed when looking out the window. It was still early, so the streets were covered in snow. The walk to the bus stop was exhausting. When she finally reached it, she realized she still had plenty of time to spare. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and took a drag. She pulled out her phone from the other pocket, changed the song, and opened her conversation with Joost again. Nothing had changed.

you could at least read my messages. that way, id know if you were alive 06:50

She typed with frozen fingers, holding the cigarette between her lips. The girl exhaled the smoke and sent the message, glancing at the cracked screen of her phone with faint hope. Nothing.

The phone that received the message vibrated on the bed. Its owner, however, wasn’t there but on the floor. Joost lay on the ground, staring at the ceiling. He tried to focus on breathing. Only on breathing. Only on surviving.

He had no idea what time it was, how long he had been lying there. Had he made it through the night, or was it still yesterday, or maybe already tomorrow? On both sides of his head were small, wet spots from the tears that had spilled from his heavy eyelids. He was like a defeated, fallen Gulliver, his tears carving out lakes.

He didn’t feel the cold, didn’t feel the pain in his back. He didn’t feel how badly his head hurt from crying or the emptiness in his stomach. He couldn’t remember when he last ate something warm, despite his sister and brother's urging, when he last took a shower, or held his phone. When was the last time he actually spoke to someone? A few hours ago? Or last month?

If looks could drill holes, there would already be a small but precise one in his ceiling. Only when he heard a knock on the door did he snap out of it. It was morning, and his room was filled with light. He had survived the night.

“I’m heading to work, want a ride to school?” his sister’s voice came from behind the door.

It took him about five seconds to remember how his vocal cords worked.

“No, I’ll manage.”

“Are you planning to stay home?”

Silence. On both sides of the door.

“I don’t want to have your school on my back, okay? You’ll go back to class after the weekend.”

Joost sighed in relief, closing his eyes.

“Thanks, really.”

“There’s breakfast on the table,” he heard her footsteps fade away. “Eat something!”

At that moment, he regained consciousness. With great effort, he managed to sit up and lean his back against the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands and clenched his fists in his hair. After a moment, he sighed and looked ahead. The clock on the bedside table showed a few minutes before eight. He hadn’t even heard whether his brother had returned from the night shift. It was as if he’d been in a trance all night, focused only on the passing seconds, taking minute by minute, hour by hour.

When he managed to climb back into bed, he pressed his cheek against the cold pillow and instinctively reached for the phone lying nearby. In the flood of notifications, he noticed more than ten messages from his friend. He felt a pang of guilt.

He swiped and entered their conversation.

you know we can always talk. you dont have to deal with this all on your own 00:21

i know. thanks 00:46

That was the last message he had replied to.

apparently you dont know, because youre doing it again 00:54

you always shut yourself off and dont let anyone in. why cant you understand that you matter to someone? 00:55

you act like youre deliberately torturing yourself, like you purposely want to take on all the fucking pain and show that only you are suffering. surprise, youre not the only one 01:00

im sorry. i didnt mean it like that. its just been hard for me too lately, and im worried about you. i didnt want to say that. im sorry.. 01:12

i want to help you, but i dont know how. how am i supposed to do that if you wont let me? 01:18

i cant imagine losing you, do you understand? 01:19

for fucks sake, theyd bury us together. i couldnt make it without you 01:20

let me help you, please. or at least dont shut me out 04:29

im worried, joost. please reply 13:54

Missed calls x7

you could at least read my messages. as it is, i dont even know if youre alive 06:50

im alive. im sorry 08:01

He replied, staring at the screen. He read her messages several times. He knew he could rely on her, that he mattered to her. But on the other hand, he couldn’t accept it. Him? Someone cared about him? Hey, wasn’t he just the funny, slightly chubby kid who always told silly jokes and made everyone laugh? That he had problems? What kind of problems could a teenager like him have?

She, however, knew that Joost had been through a lot. Losing his parents year after year can break anyone, let alone someone like him. Since she had met him in high school, Joost had always seemed like an extrovert, the center of attention, telling the funniest jokes with his booming voice. But beneath the surface, which he had built himself, lay an incredibly sensitive boy with a big heart. He was the kind of person children smiled at, and dogs ran up to for a pet.

Joost was like a gentle giant. He could pretend that nothing bothered him, that dumb jokes or words thrown around in laughter didn’t hurt. But every one of those words or situations lodged itself tightly in his mind like a pack of rats that couldn’t be driven out for anything. It was as if his body lacked the receptors for anger or aggression. He wished everyone he knew well, but the feeling wasn’t always mutual.

When he was younger, not long after his parents died, he was often mocked for being an orphan. The mean comments and jabs were so hurtful that he stopped attending classes. When someone pointed out that he seemed to have put on a bit of weight recently, he went a week eating nothing but apples, drinking water and smoking cigarettes.

Now, even though some time had passed since then, and he had been through several rounds of therapy, he still had periods like this. When all he wanted was to be alone and let the cold embrace of sadness surround him. To rest his head on the bony shoulder of depression and weep bitterly.

But it wasn’t to be, as he suddenly flinched, hearing something hit his bedroom window. He realized he had lost touch with reality again and had been staring at his phone’s dark screen for who knows how long.

Thinking he had misheard, he settled more comfortably on his pillow.

The girl squeezed the snow harder in her hands, forming a snowball. She took aim and threw it at his window again. When Joost replied to her message, she knew she had to seize the moment. She had skipped the last two classes and immediately went to her friend’s house. She wasn’t leaving until she talked to him.

She took aim again and threw another snowball at the window. This time with success, as moments later, she saw Joost looking out.

He wasn’t sure whether to believe his eyes, but his friend tapped her finger on her wrist, signaling that she had been waiting long enough. The corner of Joost’s mouth involuntarily twitched upwards, and he quickly went to open the door. He knew that if he didn’t, this psycho would keep throwing snowballs until the window broke, and she’d climb in through the tree. He preferred to avoid that.

He unlocked and opened the door, but before he could say anything, she threw herself around his neck and hugged him tightly. She was cold, and her hair smelled like frost, but she was so alive, so different from the bony arms of depression.

“Don’t do that again,” she mumbled, holding him close.

Joost felt all the air trapped in his lungs release as he closed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his friend, resting his cheek on her head.

"You're letting the cold in," he said after a moment, trying to lighten the mood as the wind blew snowflakes inside. "Come on, get inside."

A few moments later, the two friends were in Joost's room. It was clear that cleaning up was the last thing on his mind. The girl glanced around and silently began picking up the scattered clothes from the floor.

"Please, leave it," Joost groaned, collapsing onto the bed. "I'll do it later."

"If you're not going to help, then go take a shower," she replied, putting the relatively clean clothes back into the closet and setting the dirty ones aside near the door.

"I'll do that later too," he mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. Only now did he start to feel how utterly exhausted he really was.

"We both know how that will go," she said pointedly, casting a glance his way. He sighed, feeling her gaze on him.

"I'm too tired. I just can't."

The girl hung up his coat and sat next to him. Joost looked at her face. Only now did he notice her puffy, swollen eyes, sunken cheeks despite the rosy flush from the cold, and chapped lips. He recognized the look.

He immediately recalled one of the messages she had sent him. You're not the only one suffering.

"What happened?"

He furrowed his brows and sat up, studying her face carefully. She knew exactly what he meant. Joost saw the same exhaustion in her that she often saw in him.

She sighed and lowered her gaze.

"I haven't been feeling great these past few days. But you probably know what I mean."

This time, it was his turn to lower his gaze. He didn't know what to say.

He didn't need to say anything.

She moved closer and hugged him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Joost desperately hugged her back, holding her in a bear-like grip.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after a while, still holding her. His voice trembled. "I should be supporting you, but instead, I'm just a burden. It's the only thing I'm good at."

"You're not a burden, Joost," she protested, pulling back slightly to look at him, emphasizing her words. "We should be supporting each other. No one else will understand us better than we understand each other. We're in this together."

At some point during her words, two large tears rolled down Joost's cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, burying his face in his hands, knowing that those two tears were just the beginning. On top of feeling miserable, guilt now added to the weight. It's not that he was unaware of his friend's struggles with mental health—he knew, just as she knew what he was going through. On most days, both of them were cheerful and lively, the life of the party. But sometimes, for a few days, a week, or even two, their light would go out. Depression was a grim lighthouse keeper.

She hugged him again, holding him tightly. Joost clung to her as if she were a lifeline.

"Everything will be okay," she whispered, stroking his hair.

"Everything will be okay," he echoed. "We'll get through this."

They sat there in silence for an undefined amount of time, wrapped in each other's arms.

"I'm not joking about that shower," she said after a while. "I guarantee you'll feel better."

Joost sighed and pulled away from her, nodding. He stood up and went to his closet, grabbing some clean clothes.

"You don't have to clean up, really," he said, glancing at her one last time before reaching for the door handle.

"And wash your hair too," she replied, standing up and continuing to organize his clothes. She looked at him and gave him a small smile, nodding her head to tell him to go and not to worry about the rest.

"Thank you," he returned her smile and went to take a shower.

When he came back, he looked much better. He also felt better. His room no longer resembled a battlefield. Clothes and trash no longer littered the floor, dirty dishes were gone, and the bed was made. But his friend was nowhere to be seen.

Joost peeked out of the door and, hearing movement in the kitchen, went downstairs. His friend was putting dishes into the dishwasher.

"This is probably for you," she said, pointing to some sandwiches wrapped up on the counter.

"I doubt I can eat anything," he replied, glancing apologetically at her. After a moment, he wondered if she had eaten. She also had trouble with eating sometimes. "But I'll eat if you eat with me."

"That won't be enough for us."

"I know, but we can make pancakes."

The girl smiled at his suggestion and nodded.

A few moments later, the kitchen filled with the smell of frying pancakes and the sound of easy conversation. The kind of conversation that, after a storm, offers a glimpse of normalcy. Joost flipped the pancakes while his friend sliced fruit they had found in the fridge. The warm atmosphere began to chase away the heavy clouds.

They weren’t alone. Even when they craved solitude, they weren't isolated. They had each other.

The girl unintentionally glanced at her friend, and noticing his damp bangs falling into his eyes, she pushed them back from his forehead with a gentle hand. Joost smiled at her gesture, unable to help it. She smiled too.

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone Can't change the weather, might not be forever But if it's forever, it's even better

Neither of them said it aloud that afternoon, but in the quiet corners of their minds, they both thought how grateful they were to have each other.

[youredreamingofroo]

I never understood gif warnings until I started coming across posts with like 15 gifs crunched together, making my phone experience tremendous levels of lag that could only be described as running the Sims 4 with 5000+ files/mods on a Dell laptop from 2017

[tvmblrsillyman]

bad mental health shitposting cw

VENT APP DELETES POSTS CONTAINING SUICIDAL IDEATION TUMBLR VENTPOSTING IS BACK IN THE MENU

[mrfoox]

Kinda wish I had more adhd traits in me but alas... I love people with adhd they are my fave...

[sunrizef1]

Lost in Japan

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Reader

Warnings: None, cursing

Authors Note: I was almost done with a max fic and this song overtook my mind until I finished this. Also trust, I will be using bear as a nickname for Oscar in every fic from now on.

Summary: Lost in Japan by Shawn Mendes

Word Count: 5.1k (this was supposed to be short)

Oscar was bored. Lando was off celebrating a successful weekend somewhere out in the city of Shanghai while Oscar was sat alone in his hotel room waiting for the flight McLaren has organized to get him back to England. He hadn’t won. He hadn’t even gotten a podium. So there wasn’t much for him to be exactly thrilled about. So instead, he was just scrolling through his phone, checking various social media apps before he finally landed on Instagram.

He clicked on the first Instagram story at the top of his page, which happened to be Lando’s. He ignored the pictures of him celebrating at some party, tapping through the various shots of him getting more and more inebriated. He was with Max and Charles at the party so Oscar wasn’t too concerned. He clicks through a few more people stories before landing on a specific one that makes him slow down.

Oscar stares at his phone screen, eyes glazing over your Instagram story. He’s clicking through passively, pausing as he gets to one of you at dinner the night before. He lets it play out but quickly clicks back when he notices the Tokyo, Japan tag that you’ve placed near the top of the screen.

As Oscar stares at the picture, trying to take in every detail, he’s struck by an idea. He clicks out of the app, opens up his messages and navigates to your contact, already standing up from his hotel room bed to grab his already packed suitcase.

It didn’t look like he’d be using that plane ticket back to England after all. He clicks the call button under your name, holding the phone between his shoulder and his cheek as he grabs his things, exiting the room after he slides his backpack on.

The phone rings for a bit too long, making Oscar slightly worried that you wouldn’t pick up but it does eventually connect and Oscar is met with the sound of your voice filtering through the phone speaker. The door shuts with a soft click behind the Aussie as he steps into the hallway.

“Hello, Oscar,” you hum through the phone. Oscar can practically hear the smirk on your lips even through the low quality iPhone speaker.

Oscar huffs a laugh at your tone, dragging his suitcase behind him as he walks down the hall, “Hi, y/n.”

"What can I do for you?” you ask and Oscar can hear shuffling from your end of the call. As the words leave your lips, he reaches the elevator, tapping the button on the wall to call it to his floor.

“Do you have plans tonight?” Oscar reaches the point quickly, trapping the phone back between his shoulder and ear as the elevator opens and he steps in, tapping the lobby button.

You pause for a second, proccessing the question and contemplating your answer, “Besides falling asleep in a few hours? Nope.”

Oscar hums, pulling the phone into his hands and typing impatiently into google as you speak. He finds the soonest, and nicest, flight to Japan he could, purchasing the ticket without a second thought.

“Why?”

Oscar freezes for a moment, looking up from the ticket he'd just bought to narrow his eyes at the elevator door, “I saw you're in Japan-”

“Oh, so you're stalking me now?” Oscar rolls his eyes as you laugh through your question, painting the image of your grinning face in the Aussies mind.

“Shut up, no, anyway-,” Oscar sighs, dragging his suitcase out of the elevator as it reaches the lobby, “Im in Shanghai, I thought I'd fly over to see you.”

Your silence on the other end of the line is deafening. Oscar even checks to make sure the call is still connected due to how quiet you were. Taking your lack of response as a bad sign, Oscar starts to ramble, hoping to do a bit of damage control, “Just because I'm only a couple hundred miles away and the race is over and I'm bored. Its just been so long since we were so close, especially during the season and I miss y-”

“When does your flight leave?”

Oscar, who’d frozen on the sidewalk outside the hotel, unfreezes to gesture for a taxi. It was only a five-minute drive to the airport from the place Mclaren had been staying so he hoped this wouldn't take too long. He mutes for a moment to tell the driver to take him to the airport. The driver nods, pulling away from the curb.

“Uhhhh-” Oscar navigates through his phone to check his flight details as he sits back in his seat, “Half an hour?”

“Ooh, you better hurry then,” You hum, a playful tone laced through your words, “Dont want to miss it.”

Oscar laughs happily, just glad to hear you joking along. He does find some reality in your words though, doing the math to see if he even had enough time to make his flight. He was honestly running on hopes and prayers at this point.

“What made you suddenly so inclined to fly to Japan on a random Sunday?” Your voice pulls Oscar out of his thoughts and he pauses, smiling abashedly as the answer comes to his head.

“Just can't get you off my mind.”

Oscar can’t see you. But if he could, he'd see a warm smile carved onto your face due to the warmth his statement had caused.

“I don't know Osc, I'm actually pretty tired. Might just head to bed,” Oscar rolls his eyes as you try and stifle your giggle.

“Do I need to convince you to stay awake, then?”

You huff a laugh, humming in affirmation, “I’d love to hear it.”

“Well,” Oscar starts, racking his mind for some suggestions of what to say to get you to agree to this, “You don't miss me?”

“I never said that,” You reply quickly. Oscar raises an eyebrow, head falling back against the seat as he trys not to groan.

“So you do miss me?”

You hum quietly, the sound almost too low for Oscar to hear it through the phone, “Maybe a little bit.”

The Aussie chuckles, “I thought so.”

“Can you blame me? It's been a while. I miss my favourite koala bear,” Oscar gets the sense that the words were meant to come out teasing but he can't help but notice how genuine they sound. He laughs nonetheless.

He's about to respond when the cab comes to a sudden stop and he looks out the window to see the airport in front of him.

“Shit, I'm here.”

Oscar swings his backpack onto his shoulders, rifling through a pocket to find enough cash to hand to the driver, not really considering an exact amount and, instead, just asking the driver if that was enough. When the driver tries to hand change back, Oscar leans away, grasping the door handle to swing the door open to get out. He grabs his suitcase as well, leaning down to shout back into the car.

“Keep the change, thanks mate!” Oscar shuts the door, dragging his suitcase behind him as the cab drives away.

“Such a gentleman, I take it you're at the airport now?” you tease him, a genuine questioning tilt laced in your words.

Oscar nods before remembering you can't see him, “Yeah, just got out of the car.”

Oscar rushes through the large door, holding it open for an older woman to walk through before he steps in past her. He glances around the room, trying to find airport security so he could get to his gate.

“You gonna make your flight?” you seem to be finding a lot of amusement in his frantic rushing.

Oscar huffs, pinning his phone between his cheek and shoulder to check his watch. He still had about twenty-five minutes to get to his plane.

“Twenty minutes,” he responds, walking quickly down the hall when he spots a sign directing him that way.

“Ooh! Ah, I have faith in you. If you're anywhere near as fast as you are on the track I'm sure you'll be fine.”

Oscars eyes trail over the hall, locking onto the security gates and causing him to walk a little quicker, “You watch the race today?”

You don't respond for a few minutes but when you do, your voice is a lot more calm than it had been a few moments before, “Mhm. You did good Os.”

Oscar lets out a sigh, shaking his head as a grin fights its way into his lips, “Thanks, I'm glad you think so.”

Oscar steps into the security line, grateful for the fact that there are only a few people in front of him. He ignores the weird glance the old lady in front of him sends his way as he rushes to a stop behind her, replying with a tight smile.

“Its not just me, Osc,” you reply, sensing his disdain for the days race through the phone, “Everyone thinks you did well.”

Oscar hums, stepping up a few steps as a couple of people pass through, leaving just the old lady in front of him. As he reaches the bag scanners, he pins his phone on his shoulder again to lift his bag up onto the conveyor belt, tossing his bag down beside it.

“One second,” Oscar responds, muting his phone to drop it into a bowl along with his airpods, sending them through along with his bags.

After he's put all his things on the belt, he steps away, walking through the metal detector when the agent signals for him to go.

It takes a few moments for the agents to check his bags but when they come through he pulls the suitcase off and sets it beside him, turning back to slide his backpack over his shoulders. He slides his AirPods into his hoodie pocket and picks up his phone, unmuting the call before walking away, his suitcase in tow.

“Im back,” Oscar clicks away from the call for a few seconds to check his flight details before putting the phone back to his ear.

“Did I just get sent through a security scanner?” you sound amused and Oscar can practically see your smirk just from the tone of your voice.

“Didnt want to hang up,” he grumbles, searching the signs above him for his gate, walking quickly when he spots it. A clock on the wall indicates that he's still got 15 minutes to get to his flight. He thinks about it for a few moments, quickly realizing that it was 15 minutes until scheduled takeoff and boarding would actually end in five minutes.

“Im honored-”

“Fuck!” Oscar cuts you off, too busy now sprinting down the airport corridor to think about that fact, “Shit! I'm gonna miss it!”

You don't respond for a few seconds but you eventually do, a loud laugh echoing from your throat as you take in his situation.

“Oh my god, are you late for boarding? Osc!” you laugh, the image of the driver sprinting down the hall engrained in your head.

He doesn't reply, the phone now down near his hip as he runs to his gate. The run feels like an hour but, in reality, was only actually a few minutes, the clocks on the walls ticking down as if mocking the Aussies poor planning.

He finds some kind of respite, though, as he finally gets to the gate, slowing down as he steps up to the gate agent. The lady seems surprised to see him run up but she doesn't turn away, instead glancing him up and down with a concerned look before responding.

“Hi! Do you have your ticket?” the woman is surprisingly kind about the question, especially considering she had been preparing to leave as he'd rocked up.

Oscar nods, still trying to catch his breath. He pulls his phone open to navigate to the ticket, facing the QR code forward for the agent to scan. She does so before nodding politely and leading him down the path toward the plane.

Oscar lets out a sight of relief and lifts the phone back up to his face, “I made it.”

Your laugh has calmed down but you snort at his almost war-torn sounding voice, his strife obvious due to his lack of breath, “Congrats, man.”

He gets lead onto the plane, thanking the woman who'd brought him and smiling at the flight attendants as he walks a few steps past them. He finds his seat, dropping his phone onto it to lift his phone and stow it away in the overhead bin. He grabs his phone and sits down, relaxing into the seat after setting his backpack on the ground.

“I’ll be in Japan in a few hours,” He says, running hand over his face, “See you there, yeah?”

You hum, “See you there, bear.”

Oscar ignores the nickname, pretending it didn't make him smile, “Im gonna hang up now, promise you won't be asleep when I land?”

You laugh, “I promise, Oscar. I'll even go get a red bull for some extra energ-”

“Yeah, nope. Goodbye.” Oscar interrupts before you can endorse the rival team.

“Bye koala bear,” you respond and the phone clicks softly as you hang up. Oscar sets the phone down to pull his airpods out of his pocket, connecting them in order to watch some movie for the flight.

The flights only a few hours long but it feels a lot longer than that to Oscar. It's a haze of random Netflix shows and bagged pretzels, the monotony of the flight boring Oscar out of his mind.

He's relieved when the plane touches down, his proximity to the front of the plane allowing him to stand up and grab his things fairly quickly. Its about 9 pm local time, the sky outside not shedding any light through the plane windows.

Oscar walks out into the airport, grateful to be off the cramped plane and finally move his legs again. He stops at one of the few shops still open to buy an overpriced bottle of water, pausing as he spots a bag of those haribo peach rings you like so much. He doesn't think much as he grabs the bag, throwing it onto the counter beside his bottle and offering the cashier a polite smile.

After paying, he grabs the bottle and the bag, grasping them in the same hand as he pulls his suitcase along with the other one.

He strolls through the airport, trying to rid himself of the fatigue from the race and the plane ride. The only thing keeping him from falling asleep was the thought of seeing you again.

Speaking of you, Oscar doesn't realize he has no idea where you were staying or where you were until he's stepped out of the airport doors, standing on the sidewalk with his suitcase sat next to him. He tries to recall if you'd told him anything about your Japan trip or even if he'd seen anything on your story but he comes up empty.

He clicks on your contact, pressing the phone to his ear as the call rings. He frowns as you decline, confused as to why you'd hang up.

He's just about to walk back inside to wait when a car horn honks, causing Oscar to look up in front of him.

His eyes widen as they lock onto an orange Mclaren 570s Coupe, the car shining beautifully under the street lights. As he stands and admires the car ahead of him, the window closest to him rolls down and he sees your head duck down to lock eyes with him.

“You getting in?”

He laughs incredulously, opening the passenger side door and carefully sliding his suitcase into the small storage space behind the seats.

He sets his backpack on the floor below him, flopping back into the sear and sliding his seatbelt on. He sets his water down and tosses the bag of peach rings into your lap, “Nice car.”

“Thanks,” you reply brightly, eyes widening as you observe the bag of candy before moving it into your hoodie pocket, “Thought id go all out with the rental for the few days I'm here.”

Oscar hums, glancing around the nice car, coincidentally a Papaya McLaren. He refused the urge to ask you if you'd been thinking of him when you'd picked the vehicle.

After you make sure his seatbelts on, you pull away from the airport terminal and navigate onto the main road, pressing play on your playlist to let music filter quietly through the speakers.

The car glides smoothly down the streets of Tokyo, bright lights reflecting off the sides of your face. Oscar looks your way, completely aware that your attention was locked on the road, giving him the free pass to admire you.

Your eyes dart around the road in front of you, neon lights reflected in your irises. Your teeth dig at your lower lip, chewing lightly as turn the car. You’ve got one hand on the wheel, the other one moving around between the center console and the fraying edge of your shorts. You're wearing a quadrant hoodie and Oscar can't tell if its his or if you both just owned the same hoodie. The fit didn't help, he knew you bought your hoodies oversized anyway.

You glance over as you come to a stop at a red light, grinning when you see his eyes on you.

“What?” You ask, laughing slightly as you lean back from the wheel, splitting your attention between the road and Oscars face.

Oscar shakes his head with a small smile, his own attention turning out the window as you drive through the green light.

“Have you eaten?”

Oscar shakes his head, “Nah.”

You nod, taking the next turn to pull into a parking lot, stopping the car after you find a spot. You step out and Oscar takes this as his cue to get out as well, shutting the car door gently behind him.

When Oscar gets around the car, he finds you leaning against the edge, your feet crossed as you wait for him. He steps to your side and you push off the car, the familiar beep of it locking ringing out as you walk away.

As you both walk toward the restaurant, you step into Oscar's side and he’s quick to swing an arm over your shoulder. You wrap an arm around his torso, reaching the other up to tangle your fingers with his.

He's only slightly disappointed when you have to drop his hand in order to open the door. But you keep your hand against his ribs and he keeps his arm around your shoulders, not ready to let you go yet.

The second his feet pass the threshold of the building, he's hit with some of the most delicious scents he'd smelled in his life. This late at night there isn't much action apart from a few stragglers who Oscar assumes had just gotten off work and needed a bite to eat.

An older man swings around the corner from the kitchen, faint food stains gracing his otherwise white apron. He has a huge grin on his face and it only increases when he sees you. He pushes his glasses up on his nose, wiping off the steam that had accumulated on the lenses.

“Ah! You're back again!” The man calls out to the pair of you. Although his words do make Oscar assume the man was mostly talking to you, “And you brought your boyfriend!”

You don't correct the man and after seeing the grin on your face, Oscar doesn't either.

“Yeah, he just got in from Shanghai. Haven't had dinner yet.”

“Go, go,” the man smiles, pointing toward the dining room, “Sit where you want, ill get to you in a second.”

The man waves you both toward the tables and you step out of Oscar’s grasp. He doesn't have to be disappointed for long as you wrap your hand in his to lead him through the restaurant, stopping at a booth before sliding in. Oscar slides in the seat opposite of you, his legs knocking against yours under the table.

Quickly, the man, who Oscar now assumes is the owner, comes over to the table, setting down two glasses of water and a pair of menus in front of the both of you.

“You know what you want?” The man grins as he gestures toward you, seemingly familiar to you. Oscar takes a sip of his water, letting the coop liquid run down his throat.

You nod happily, “Yeah, I think so.”

The man pulls out a small notebook to write down whatever you say and you continue by saying a few different dishes, the only one Oscar having had before being sushi. He doesn't say anything, knowing that you knew more about this place and the menu than he did.

After you're done ordering, the man walks away and strolls into the kitchen, handing the order to the woman behind the counter before placing a small kiss on her cheek.

Oscar looks back to you, a small smile on his face after seeing the couple who seemed to be running the restaurant themselves, “You’ve been here before, then?”

You nod, leaning over to take a sip from your glass, “Yeah, came here yesterday for lunch.”

Oscar hums, glancing out of the booth to look around the room. Paintings and neon signs decorate the walls and what seems to be photographs taken in the restaurant all line the wall by the entrance. Oscar can vaguely see that the photos of are different people posing, all with happy looks on their faces. He huffs a breathy laugh when he sees one of you with your friends.

The time spent waiting for your food is filled with casual conversation, Oscar asking a lot of questions about how your Tokyo trip had been so far.

You don't ask about the race. There's some kind of unspoken understanding that Oscar had run to Japan to get away from racing for once. Here, with you, Oscar wasn't Mclaren racing driver, Oscar Piastri, he was just Oscar. Or “Bear”, as you called him. A nickname that you seemed unable to let go of. Oscar pretended to be annoyed every time you said it but he couldn't deny the smile that formed every time he heard the Australia-themed moniker.

“Bear?” There it is. Oscar looks up with a raised eyebrow, deducing that you'd asked a question he hadn't answered.

“I asked if you're staying with me tonight.”

Oscar snorts before smirking, shaking his head as he locks eyes with you, “Yeah, wouldn't dream of being anywhere else.”

You blush, looking down toward the table, past meals having left vague food stains on the wood.

Before you can respond, the man returns, plates and bowls balancing in his hands. You look up politely, smiling as the man starts to place the food on the table, “Thank you so much.”

The man grins as he places down the last plate, “Of course. Enjoy.”

He walks away and you turn toward Oscar who stares vaguely at the food in front of him, “Dig in.”

You make a move for your chopsticks, looking over the food before taking a bite of whatever is immediately in front of you. Oscar glances around, not sure where to start.

Noticing his hesitancy, you pick up a piece of what you'd been eating and bring it up toward his lips, pulling back after Oscar bites into it.

“What is this?” Oscar asks as he chews, covering his mouth as he speaks. Whatever it is, it's pretty good, having a light and slightly sweet flavour. Its also a bit more rubbery than chicken, but its pretty good nonetheless.

You swallow your own bite, having scooped up some rice along with it, “Unagi. Grilled eel.”

The only indication of Oscar's surprise is his widened eyes but after a few seconds, he reaches over to take another bite, humming as he chews on the eel. You smile, moving on to grab some kind of skewer.

You slowly move through the foods, explaining each one to Oscar as he tries them.

They're all good but Oscar's favourite is the yakitori, the skewers of grilled chicken. By the time you've finished the food on the table, Oscar is about ready to pass out.

So you pay as soon as you can, Oscar grumbling about his inability to pay for the meal, lacking the proper currency. He does Venmo you when you put your phone down, though.

The owner makes playful conversation with you, thanking you for coming around and telling you you're welcome back anytime. Oscar just stands with his head on top of yours, trying not to fall asleep.

You're about to leave when the man calls you back and you turn around to see him holding a camera in his hands, “For the wall? Need to remember the happy couple.”

You laugh, glancing around to see the many many photos of various friend groups on the wall behind you, turning back around with a soft look as you nod. You lean into Oscar who wraps an arm around you, tilting his head toward you. You tangle your hand with the one on your shoulder, holding up a peace sign with your other one.

The familiar click of a camera sounds and the man smiles warmly, waving you both out the door, “Have a great time! Thank you for coming!”

You wave goodbye, stepping out of the restaurant and pulling out your keys to unlock the car. Oscar untangles from you to walk to the passenger's side and step in. You drop in as well, setting your phone down in the centre console. Oscar is staring out the window when he feels something drop in his lap and he glances down to see the bag of peach rings he'd bought you.

“Can you open that?” You ask, starting the car and putting it in reverse. You glance over your shoulder as you pull backward, one arm behind Oscars seat and the other on the wheel.

Oscar, at risk of getting caught staring, turns his attention to the candy, ripping the edge and grabbing a few pieces to throw in his mouth.

Once you've got onto the main road, you hold out a hand and Oscar drops a couple pieces which you proceed to eat.

The drive is quiet, the both of you feeling the exhaustion of the day catch up to you. You eventually pull up to the hotel, stopping the car and stepping out. Not before grabbing more candy from Oscar, though.

Oscar leans over to grab his suitcase, stepping out of the car and sliding his backpack on. He grabs his water bottle from the airport, stuffing it into the bottle compartment on the side of the bag. He looks up and starts walking, stepping by your side as you enter the hotel. You stroll through the lobby, leading both of you to the elevator.

As the elevator starts moving up, you both lean against the wall, letting the quiet music be the only sound beside a couple yawns.

The elevator dings as it passes each floor. Oscar watches as you dig your key card out of your pocket, running your fingers along the edge absently.

The doors slide open, leading you to walk out, Oscar in tow. You drift down the hall, humming along to whatever song was playing in your head. Oscar vaguely recognizes it as Taylor Swift.

When you reach your room, you scan your card and push the door open, holding it to let Oscar pass through.

He does, pushing his suitcase next to the far side of the bed. He can hear you setting your things down, the familiar clink of keys on glass ringing out in the otherwise quiet room.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom,” he says lowly, sliding past you and into the attached bathroom. He can hear you hum in affirmation just before he shuts the door.

When he emerges, you're sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling off your shoes before tossing them on the floor. You’ve taken off your hoodie (or Oscars) and its not lain over the chair across the room.

You glance up, smiling as you see the Aussie walk out, “Hi.”

Oscar huffs amusedly, sliding off his own shoes as he walks toward you, “Hi.”

You hum, looking up as he walks closer to you before leaning slightly to angle his face toward yours. You both pause for a few moments, waiting to see who'd break the stand-off first.

It ends up being you, as you pull his face down towards yours, your kiss almost searing. The kiss feels like it lasts a lifetime and Oscar almost wishes it could. He does pull away, though, just to move you away from the edge of the bed, smiling when he hears your laugh ring out after he's practically tossed you onto the mattress.

He moves up as well and before he can even get his bearings, you're pulling him back down again, hands in his hair and your lips on his.

The next morning, Oscars awoken by the sound of your quiet laugh. He rolls over with a tired groan, wrapping his other arm around your torso.

“What are you laughing at?” he grumbles, tiredness clear in his voice.

You turn to face him, looking impossibly beautiful for having just woken up. You hold your phone toward him and Oscar glances down at the screen before looking back up at your face with a questioning glance.

“Lando sent me a video this morning,” you start, closing your phone and tossing it aside to grasp his tired face between your hands, “Its quite funny.”

“What was it?” Oscar mumbles, leaning to press a small kiss on your forehead.

You lean back, looking him in the eyes and seemingly trying to hide your smirk, “It's a video of his teammate sprinting through the Shanghai airport.”

Oscar groans, trying to ignore your warm laugh, “Fuck.”

He's not really mad, not when the video was the source of your happiness right now.

There were a lot worse sights to wake up to than your happy face beside him.

——————————————————

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

[sturniolohouse]

Do Not Wait - M.S

a/n: this got heavier than i planned initially but i just leaned into wherever the story took me. it's also very reader focused, which i realized way too late. but, do not fret, matt is still in it :) lmk if you'd like me to continue this as a series... i hope yall like it, im proud of it.

summary: while matt is away, reader learns and struggles with some unexpected news that will change both their lives forever.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, vomit, blood, death, grief, panic attacks, cursing. (no use of y/n)

word count: 11.7k

song: do not wait - wallows

"And it gets worse before it gets better That's one thing that I have come to know Just so you know"

“I hate to leave you like this,” Matt sighs, pushing my hair out of my face as his dark silhouette sits beside me on the bed.

I lay curled up in a ball after spending majority of the night sick. I feel terrible because I kept Matt up when he had to be up early for his flight to Chicago today.

Despite my attempts to avoid disturbing him, he spent most of the night beside me, rubbing my back while I hunched over the toilet and bringing me water.

I toss and turn, unable to find a comfortable position as my restlessness and nausea worsen by the second.

Matt’s hand touches my forehead, gently pushing my hair back and mindlessly scratching my head. I sit up as another wave of nausea twists my stomach, and I take a deep breath, hoping to suppress it. Matt sits up behind me, his hand now rubbing my back as I lean over the side of the bed with my head between my knees.

Thankfully, a moment later the wave of sickness passes and I sit up straight with a small groan as my body aches.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch. I don’t want to get you sick, and you have to be up in a few hours,” I croak, but he protests, gently pulling me back into bed.

"I don't give a fuck. I'll sleep on the plane, you're staying right here,"

As the morning light begins to filter through the curtains, Matt’s alarm goes off. By then, we had maybe collectively slept an hour and I knew he must have been exhausted. He got ready quietly trying his best not to disturb me, but I was already awake.

I don’t think sleep is in the cards for me tonight.

He places the back of his hand on my forehead, then my cheek, his touch gentle and searching.

“You still don’t have a fever...I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” He sighs, his fingers sifting through my hair with a tenderness that makes my heart ache.

Even with the faint light of dawn as our only source, I can still make out his concerned expression as he scans my face.

“I've never been this sick before. It must be a bug,” My voice is hoarse from repeatedly throwing up.

“Please, stay here with Nick while I’m gone so you have someone to look after you. I’m gonna text him now so he sees it when he wakes up. God, I don’t even want to go anymore,” He wipes his hand down his face in stress and I shake my head.

“No, stop, don’t worry about me. I’m gonna be fine. I’ll stay here with Nick. Please don’t be late for your flight,” I insist, gripping his hand weakly. “I’m going to make some tea and try to get some rest.” I go to get up but he puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll make you tea, while we wait for the Uber. What do you want, mint?” He asks softly, his hand rubbing up and down my hip.

I nod weakly, thanking him.

I doze off a bit while he goes to make my tea, the repercussion of not sleeping catching up to me. When I open my eyes again, he’s setting my steaming mug on the bedside shelf carefully and placing two advils next to it.

“Text me when you wake up? And let me know if you have to go to urgent care, I’ll send you an Uber.” He tells me softly, his voice trembling with an emotion he’s trying to hide.

His reluctance to leave is evident in every line of his face.

I nod tiredly, “Mm, text me when you and Chris land. Have fun in Chicago. I love you.”

“I love you,” He kisses my forehead, before grabbing his suitcase by his bedroom door and leaving.

I was able to sleep a couple of more hours before I woke up again, dry heaving into the toilet because I quite literally had nothing left in my stomach.

I showered, brushed my teeth and went into the kitchen, searching for something bland to settle my stomach. I had decided to grab a rice cake and made more mint tea before I sprawled out on the couch in one of Matt’s hoodies.

It’s not the first time he’s been away, but this time, I miss him more than I anticipated. Even the scent of his hoodie brings a wave of emotion that catches me off guard.

We’ve never been one of those couples that spends every second of every day together anyway. Not even when we first started dating. We’ve always given each other the space we need.

But I must admit I could go for one of his hugs right now.

It’s around 10 AM when Nick comes down stairs and his face tells me everything I need to know about my appearance.

“I know, I look like shit.” I deadpan and he covers his mouth with wide eyes.

“I got Matt’s texts...I thought that motherfucker was being dramatic. Are you feeling any better?” He asks with a hand on his chest.

“Well, I haven’t thrown up in three hours, so that’s a new record. Your poor brother, I kept him up all night,”

“He'll live, do you want to go to urgent care?”

“No, I’ll wait it out. It’s gotta pass and I was able to keep my breakfast down.” I wave a hand.

Nick goes to make his own breakfast, slicing an apple before coming over to sit on the couch with me.

“Apple?” He offers me, munching on his own bite.

I decline shaking my head with a frown.

Nick wanted to watch Love Island, so I let him change the TV, feeling my eyelids grow heavy. As the sounds of the show filled the room, I found myself dozing off, giving in to the rest my body needs.

When I wake up, I have a blanket over me and Nick is editing on his laptop.

He notices me move and takes his headphones off one ear.

“Hey, you feeling better? Matt keeps pestering me for updates,” He shows me his phone with messages from a worried Matt.

I sigh, “Jesus...I’ll call him. But yes, I feel better now that I've gotten some sleep.” I get up and stretch my body, wincing at my achy muscles.

“How long was I out?” I ask grabbing my phone to see my own set of messages from Matt.

Kid worries too much.

“About 3 hours, you were knocked out. I’m gonna order food, are you hungry for anything?” He asks and my stomach rumbles at the thought of one food.

“I could fuck up some tacos right now,” I raise an eyebrow at him at my suggestion.

“I like the way you’re thinking.” He snaps his fingers pointing at me in agreement.

“Birria tacos for me and a Diet Coke. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go call your brother before he has a heart attack.” I say walking to Matt’s room and calling him.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Hey,” He breaths out, his voice soft.

“What did I tell you about worrying about me?” I tease him and he laughs, sounding relieved.

"Hi!" I heard Chris shout in the background, before I heard a door close and Matt sigh. I'm guessing he went into a separate room.

“If you saw the state you were in before I left this morning, you’d be worried too. I take it you’re feeling better? Heard you napped,” He speaks up again, talking at a normal volume now.

“I was physically feeling the state I was in. But, yeah, a little better after my nap. How was your flight?” I ask, playing with the trinkets on his shelves.

“Besides me worrying the entire flight about you dehydrating and dying? Fine. A little turbulence, but nothing crazy.”

“Okay, drama, relax. I’m staying hydrated, I’ve napped, Nick and I are about to order some tacos. It must have just been a bug. I must admit, you're very cute when you worry about me though.” I smile and he hums shly.

A beat of silence goes by and I look at the photobooth picture of Matt and I on his wall.

“I miss you,” I admit to him, leaning down to inhale the collar of his sweatshirt on me.

“I miss you too. You know I haven't even been gone 12 hours though,” He reminds me, sounding amused at my unexpected sappyness.

I sigh, “I know,”

Suddenly I have a lump of emotion in my throat and he automatically hears the switch of my tone.

“Hey woah, what happened? Why are you upset?” He sounds panicked.

“Oh my god, sorry. I don’t know. I’m not even sad,” I choke back my tears.

“Doesn’t sound like it.." He doesn't sound convinced. "Do I need to come home?" He says next and I'm immediately objecting.

“What! No. Matt, I promise I’m fine.” I tell him quickly, taking off my hoodie as I begin to overheat.

“I love you... I’ll be back before you know it, okay? S'nothing we haven’t done before.” He reminds me softly and my bottom lip wobbles.

“Mhm,” I manage to get out and he sighs again.

“Sweetheart... You’re telling me not to be worried, but I’m beyond worried. Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” He pleads and I shake my head even though he can't see me.

“I honestly couldn’t tell you...I-i think I just needed to cry, and missing you isn’t helping because I wish I could hug you but you’re so f-far,” I hiccup.

“Okay, deep breaths, how about you take a nice hot shower–maybe a bath. Use Nick’s bath and when you’re done, you can eat your tacos and you’ll feel better. Okay? Listen, Chris and I are about to leave for dinner, are you going to be alright?” He checks in, sounding hesitant to hang up.

“Yes, I’m fine. Seriously. I’m sorry. I must be starting my period soon.” I compose myself, trying to ignore the sudden ache in my heart.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, his voice gentle and sweet.

Any other time, he’d be teasing me for being a crybaby—lovingly, of course—but I think he senses that my emotions are genuinely beyond my control right now.

“I love you,” he says again with emphasis, wanting to hear me say it back.

“I love you, so much," I say weakly, "Have fun at dinner and tell Chris I said hi.” I tell him, wiping my eyes.

“Will do. I’ll call you when we get back.” He says goodbye, hanging up.

I take a deep breath and I shake my head, feeling frustrated with my poorly-timed emotions. I feel terrible for worrying him more, I wanted this trip for him to be fun. Chris had really been looking forward to going with Matt—it had become a sort of tradition for the two of them. I need to get my emotions under control.

I wince again as I feel the heaviness and soreness in my breasts. Sighing, I go to my phone and check my period app to see when this torture will be over.

My stomach drops when I open the app and see I'm 13 days late.

My head feels dizzy suddenly and I pinch my eyes closed as the pit in my stomach spurs on more nausea. I lay back and put my arm over my eyes and take deep breaths.

My mind races, but I can’t seem to focus on one thought.

No, I can’t be.

I’m just stressed, that’s all.

I have an IUD, it's not possible.

But everything's adding up; the nausea, heightened emotions, late period...

I sit up slowly, feeling the weight of the realization settle on me. My heart pounds in my chest and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the flood of emotions threatening to drown me. But there’s no escaping this.

With trembling hands, I go to call Matt back, my thumb hovers over the call button but I stop myself. He’s going to dinner right now, on the opposite side of the country.

I can't burden him with this, not when I don’t even know for sure.

Dropping my phone onto the bed beside me, I try to self soothe, taking deep breaths to steady myself, but the anxiety is relentless.

I walk out of the room and Nick is asking me what kind of salsa I want with my tacos before he looks up at me. He immediately furrows his brows in worry.

“Hey–what's going on, are you okay?” He sits up and places his laptop on the coffee table.

“I-I can't breath,” I gasp, reaching out for him, feeling like a little kid.

He instantly stands up, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

“What’s happened? Deep breaths, big deep breaths. There you go,” He rubs my back and I breath deeply with him.

My cheek smushed into his chest as I listen to the beating of his heart to help ground me. I pull away, still trembling and shake my head, unsure if I should even be telling Nick this.

This should be Matt.

Nick's eyes search mine, sensing my hesitancy. “You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready,” he says softly, his hands rubbing my shoulders.

I bite my lip, feeling a mix of guilt and desperation.

I don’t want to drag Nick into something so personal, but this is too overwhelming to keep bottled up.

“I… I think I might be pregnant,” I finally whisper, the words barely escaping my lips.

Saying it out loud makes it feel all the more real, and the weight of it presses down on me like a ton of bricks.

Nick’s expression shifts from worry to shock, his mouth falling agape and silence ringing between us. Once he hears me whimper, he snaps out of it and brings me back into a bone crushing hug.

"Shh, okay–it's okay, um…” His voice wavers, and I can feel his heart racing against my cheek.

For a moment, it seems like he’s trying to find the right words, but all that comes out is a nervous laugh.

“This is… wow, this is big. I'm sorry– I don't know what else to say right now,” His voice high pitched and shaky.

I can’t help but let out a shaky laugh with him, even through my anxiety.

“Yeah, big,” I agree, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nick pulls back just enough to look at me, his uncertainty showing in the way his eyes dart around, trying to process everything at once.

“I mean, I’m no expert on this—obviously—but we'll figure this out. You're gonna be okay, everything's gonna be okay.”

His reassurance is genuine, but I can see he's trying to convince himself too; a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

This is uncharted territory for both of us.

Nick and I had decided to order the tests along with the food, killing two birds with one stone. He’s doing his best to stay calm for my sake, but the trembling of his hands as he places the order is hard to miss.

"Okay, tacos and tests are on the way. I got, well, all of them because I don't know which one is best. I even got ice cream. Fuck, when did it get so hot in here? I'm overheating–are you overheating?" He says, his words moving a mile a minute as he fans himself with his shirt.

I can't help but to laugh as his nerves show and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, I know you're the one potentially knocked up by my idiot brother but I'm just so nervous. I'm sweating like a monster," His voice cracks.

"Do you mind if I use your bath?" I ask and he nods right away.

“Are you kidding? Of course, go ahead. Someone has to use it. I’m gonna…Well, I’ll just wait out here and try to chill.” He gives me a quick, reassuring smile, though it’s clear he’s still on edge.

I head to his bathroom and try to forget about my racing thoughts.

I turn the faucet on and put in some bath salts, checking the temperature before I step over to the vanity mirror. I take a look at my appearance and notice the puffiness in my face right away. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes are bloodshot.

I blow out a raspberry as I undress and get into the hot water.

The heat soothes my aching muscles and clears my mind. I soaked for a while, even draining a bit of the water and refilling the tub with more hot water. Once I feel myself pruning, I decide it's time I get out.

As I dry myself off, I notice light blood on the towel. My heart races, and I quickly check again—I'm bleeding. Very lightly, but there’s blood.

Relief floods through me, and I almost cry again, this time from the emotional whiplash. My legs feel shaky, so I sit down on the edge of the tub to steady myself, my breath coming out in shaky bursts.

Clutching the towel to my chest, I close my eyes and let out a long, relieved sigh.

“Thank God,” I whisper, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

I try not to dwell on the small part of me that almost wanted to feel disappointed. Maybe even mourning the part of me that might have embraced being pregnant–excited, even.

Instead, I focus on center of my emotions, the part where a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Eventually, I pull myself together, cleaning myself up and getting dressed.

When I step out of the bathroom, Nick is on his bed, clearly trying to keep himself distracted. My eyes go to the food and the tests at the foot of the bed.

As soon as he sees me, he shoots up, his expression immediately shifting to one of concern.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice soft. I nod, a small smile breaking through the lingering anxiety.

“I’m okay,” I say, my voice a little shaky. “I uh…I got my period, I think,”

Nick’s face lights up with relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Oh, thank God,” he shouts, “This is great fucking news—right?” He checks in and I nod.

“Yeah,” I agree, feeling a little dazed by how quickly everything has turned around. “I think we’re in the clear. We won't be needing those tests, I'll pay you back for them,"

Nick ignores me, pulling me into a bear hug, his arms so tight around me, I can barely breath.

“Shut up I don't care,” he says, “You don't have a parasite in you!" He cheers, jumping us up and down.

We both let out laughs, the tension that had been looming over us now replaced with a lightness.

“Let’s eat,” I suggest, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Nick nods, "Couldn't agree more,"

We sit on his bed and for the first time all day, I feel like I can actually breathe.

As we dig into the tacos, Nick puts Love Island back on and we rot in bed for a few hours.

But even as we talk and laugh, there's still a pit in my stomach. A small portion of me can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t over yet.

Yeah, there's was blood. But it was different than my normal period. It was lighter.

I try not to panic, but I can't help but feel like my intuition is trying to tell me something. For now, I push my thoughts aside, focusing on Nick beside me yelling at the annoying horny people on his TV.

Nick offered for me to sleep in his room but I declined, wanting to sleep in Matt's bed.

Matt never called me, but he texted me apologizing and checking in on me. I listened to a voice memo he sent me of all they did today and I was genuinely glad he was having fun, so I didn't mind him not calling.

Plus, I'm not entirely sure I'm in the right state of mind to have a conversation with him right now. I wouldn't be able to keep today's events to myself.

I know I can’t keep him in the dark—I need to tell him what’s going on.

I glance at the stack of tests on his dresser and sigh. The bleeding from earlier has stopped, leaving me with a pit in my stomach.

I know I’ll have to take those tests, even if only for clarity. But for now, I’m going to force myself to sleep.

I find myself in a place that feels both familiar and strange. It's warm, the sun showering the garden and I immediately know I'm in my grandmother's backyard.

The breeze picks up, carrying the scent of blooming flowers—lilies, hyacinths, peonies, and marigolds—enveloping me in a peacefulness that feels like a comforting blanket.

I walk along the familiar stone path, my fingers grazing the soft petals of the flowers. Each step feeling like a compelling, magnetic pull, guiding me deeper into the garden.

I see her then–my grandmother, seated on a wooden bench beneath the shade of the large oak tree I used to climb as a child.

My breath hitches, she doesn't look sick. Her smile is lively, her cheeks rosy and the green in her eyes vibrant.

But there’s something else different, a kind of ethereal glow about her that sends a chill down my spine.

“Come here, my girl,” she says, her voice soft and inviting.

I walk over to her, feeling a strange mix of emotions: comfort, longing, and an inexplicable sadness.

I sit down beside her and she takes my hand in hers, her touch warm and reassuring.

“I’ve missed you,” I say, my voice thick with emotion, unable to fathom her not sick in a hospital bed.

She smiles, her eyes full of love. “I haven't gone anywhere."

There’s a pause as I try to process her words, but then she looks at me knowingly, another shiver down my spine.

"You're glowing," She hums, tucking my hair behind my ear.

I look at her confused until she places a hand to my stomach. My breath hitches and I can't control the tear that rolls down my cheek.

I shake my head in disbelief, "How...d-do you know?" I whisper, my voice getting lost in the intoxicating breeze.

It's then that I feel a deep flutter in my stomach, one that I can't describe.

I place my hand over my grandmother's that still rests on my stomach. The flutter intensifies, my heart mimicking the pattern as warmth blooms in my chest. The feeling is overwhelming.

An unexpected, joyous sob escapes my lips before I can stop it, tears blurring my vision.

“You're both going to be okay,” My grandmother says softly, gently wiping away my tears.

My lip wobbles and I let out a shaky breath before she speaks up again.

“She’s strong too, just like you.”

“She..?” I squeak. My grandmother’s smile returns, softer this time and she nods.

A wave of shock and confusion washes over me, but before I can ask more, the garden begins to fade. The colors bleeding into each other until everything is a swirl of light.

Her voice echoes as the dream dissolves, “Don't be afraid, Petal.”

I shoot up, my heart racing, my face soaked in tears and my body covered in a cold sweat. I feel disoriented as I take in my surroundings and my mind tries to grasp the remnants of the dream.

My grandmother’s face, her words, the fluttering in my stomach. But now, that fluttering has turned into a twisting feeling in my gut.

Something was wrong.

My phone buzzes, startling me out of my tangled, fuzzy thoughts. My hands tremble slightly as I reach for my phone.

It’s my mom.

“Hello?” I answer, my voice thick with sleep and confusion.

There’s a pause on the other end, and then my mom’s voice comes through, shaky and heavy with emotion.

“Honey...I'm sorry I'm calling you so early, but it’s Grandma....Sh-she passed in her sleep early this morning.”

The words hit me like a punch in the gut, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. She continues to talk but I can't hear her, my ears ring and time slows down.

A flood of emotions overcome me.

Grief, shock, and the strange sense that the dream was more than just a figment of my imagination.

As the reality of her passing sinks in, I’m left with the weight of her final words to me. She was telling me something important, something I can’t ignore anymore.

My stomach twists again and I bolt to the bathroom where I throw up until I'm dry heaving into the toilet.

-

I'm not even shocked when the test immediately shows up positive. I stare blankly at the two pink lines, the only hint of emotion is the tremor in my hand as I grab the test and chuck it into the trash can.

I feel numb.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I see the emptiness in my eyes, the darkness encasing them. The person staring back is a stranger.

I'm pregnant.

I should be feeling joy, maybe even excitement—I want to at least, but all I feel is nothing. My experience overshadowed by my grief. By the anomaly of this situation, how this could have happened.

I have an IUD, I was bleeding, but here we are.

I wanted Matt to be the first to know, to share in that moment with him, but now everything feels wrong, out of order.

I feel robbed of the happiness I should be feeling.

I step into the shower and let the scalding hot water claw at my skin. I finally let myself break down, grief rattling through me and slicing me open.

My dream replays in my mind over and over again. My grandmother's eyes, her warmth, her words, her hand on my stomach.

“You’re both going to be okay,”

My hand instinctively goes to my stomach. I press my palm into my abdomen, expecting to feel that flutter, desperate to feel any sort of connection with the life that's there–to cling to the intense joy from my dream...but there's nothing.

It was ripped away from me from the moment I woke up.

“She’s strong too, just like you,”

I whimper, the sound dissolving into the rush of the water.

I don’t feel strong. I feel weak.

My grandmother told me not to be afraid, but I can’t escape this overwhelming anxiety, the suffocating uncertainty that engulfs me.

The tightness in my chest, the heaviness in my heart, the deep-seated guilt that festers within me.

I cry and cry and cry until I can’t anymore, until the tears run dry, leaving only the ache in my chest.

When the water turns cold and the sun fully rises, is when I finally get out. My feet drag beneath me as I walk back into Matt's room and get dressed.

I pull on one of Matt's crewnecks and some sweats before I go into the kitchen to make a tea.

I make myself an Earl Grey, my grandmother's favorite.

I sit down at the dining table and book the first flight back home to Maine, which is tomorrow morning. My mom and I spoke again and she told me the funeral isn't until next week, but I wanted to be there for her. I couldn’t stay here right now.

My stomach growls loudly and I press my palms into my eye sockets. I suppose I should really eat something with substance, especially now.

I grab the berries from the fridge that are in their last leg, washing them before forcing myself to eat. The tartness of the blueberries sparks a memory of helping my grandmother make blueberry pancakes on Sunday mornings. I smile sadly at the fond memory of being her little sous chef.

When 7 AM rolls around, restlessness overtakes me and I step outside, sitting in the front stoop before calling Matt.

"You're up early," His voice thick with sleep as he greets me through the line.

"Hey," I say weakly, letting out a sigh as I gaze up at the clear sky. There's not a single cloud in sight.

"What's wrong?" His tone immediately shifts to concern.

"Matt... my grandma passed this morning," I start, my voice trembling slightly.

I omit the dream and the positive pregnancy test in his bathroom, grateful that he can't see my face.

There's a heavy sigh on the other end. "I'm so sorry. I know she was sick for a while... Are you doing okay? How's your mom?"

"I'm... managing. And my mom, she's actually doing okay. I think we're all relieved in a way, you know? It was only a matter of time. I'm just glad she's not suffering anymore," I navigate my feelings about her passing, my voice surprisingly steady.

"Of course," His voice is so soft, fueling my longing for his touch.

"Do you think…there's any way you can change your flight on Tuesday to go to Maine? The funeral isn’t until next Thursday, but I’m getting there tomorrow afternoon." I ask, playing with a loose string on my sweatpants.

"Of course, I'll look at flights right now," he responds without hesitation.

"Thank you, I just....I need you there," I tell him, feeling a tightness in my chest when I avoid mentioning the conversation we need to have.

"I'll be there. I found a flight that will get me there tomorrow night."

"Matt–" I start to protest.

"I already changed it. No refunds," He cuts me off, his voice firm. "Sweetheart, you need me, I'm not going to make you wait until fucking Tuesday."

"What about the rest of your trip? You'll miss the rest of the festival, and Chris–" I try and reason with him.

"Listen to me carefully...I don't give a fuck about the festival. You need me there, and I'm going to be there. Chris will be fine, he's a big boy. He has Sam here with him and they'll fly back to LA together," His tone leaving no room for argument, his mind was made up.

A small, grateful smile tugs at my lips as tears well up in my eyes.

"I love you," I manage to say, my voice trembles with emotion.

"I love you, so much it hurts. I wish I could hug you right now but I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I’m gonna go talk to Chris, text me or call me if you need me. I mean it, kid."

“I will,” I promise, ending the call and looking up at the sky again, wrapping my arms around myself as the cool morning air brushes against my skin.

I take a deep breath, the air filling my lungs grounding me. As I exhale, I try to focus on the one thing I know for sure—I may not feel strong, but I need to be and not just for myself, but for the life growing inside of me.

My grandmother's words echo in my mind.

"Don't be afraid, Petal."

–

Nick wakes up shortly after, only taking one look at me before I’m breaking down again—the weight of everything crashing down on me like another tidal wave.

I tell him everything, my dream, my grandmother's passing, I show him the positive pregnancy test.

I cry into his chest, feeling overwhelmed.

"I'm just s-so confused," I manage to say between sobs. "In my dream, I was so happy... everything felt right. I felt connected with..." My words trail off, dissolving into incoherent blubbering.

Nick just listens, rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles.

"Listen," he begins softly, "your body is under a lot of stress right now. You just found out about your grandma, and then this very unexpected news on top of it… Every single emotion you’re feeling is normal, and 100 percent valid. But you have so many people by your side who love you and will help you through this, no matter what you decide..."

I sniffle, trying to regulate my breathing as I take in his words.

"I'm angry, too," I admit, my voice cracking with the strain of holding it all in. "This is so unfair. The timing of this couldn't be worse... I can't even talk to Matt and I feel awful keeping this from him. He shouldn't have to find out like this."

"Everything is going to be okay, deep breaths," Nick repeats, his voice calm as he helps me process the flood of emotions.

I blow out a raspberry, pulling back and running my hands down my face in frustration. When I look at him, he's watching me cautiously, trying to read my expression.

"I'm pregnant," I say softly, the words finally leaving my lips for the first time.

A mix of emotions swirls in my chest and stomach—fear, uncertainty, a strange kind of acceptance.

Nick nods slowly, his eyes still scanning my face, and for a moment, I find myself imagining if this was me telling Matt.

More dread fills me.

How will he react? Will he be the support I need?

We’ve talked about having kids before. They were always in the cards for us, but never this soon.

We only just started to discuss getting our own place and now our lives are going to be changing forever.

Nick helped me pack as I tried to arrange a last-minute appointment to confirm my pregnancy, which proved to be quite the ordeal.

The receptionists initially inform me that they didn't have any openings for weeks. However, when I mention the IUD and a positive pregnancy test, the urgency in their voice shifted dramatically.

They told me to come in right away.

The urgency in the receptionists voice on the phone didn’t help my nerves. Neither when they took me straight into an examination room the minute I told them my name.

They take my vitals, draw my blood and give me a cup to pee in.

I left Nick in the waiting room, dressing down into the gown they placed neatly on the exam chair. I look around at the diagrams of the fetuses and the posters of the development. I’ve seen these countless times and never thought twice, but this time I feel unsettled.

I swallow thickly and sit on the loud crinkly paper with the anticipation of the doctor coming in soon.

There’s a soft double knock on the door before a head of wild, curly hair peeks in.

“Hello, hello. I’m Dr. Sullivan,” She says washing her hands and sitting down on the swivel stool next to the examination chair.

The woman has a mane of big, unruly curls that frame her face, with chunky black square-framed glasses perched on her slightly humped nose, drawing attention to her bright hazel eyes. A wide smile, complete with a distinctive gap between her two front teeth, radiates warmth and adds to her quirky charm. She almost seems like a character out of a cartoon—lanky, with an energetic, bouncy stride that matches her bubbly personality. She can't be much older than my mother.

"So, you are in fact pregnant. The lab results confirmed the presence of HCG, which is the hormone produced during pregnancy. "

“Do you have any idea how this happened? I mean, obviously I know how it happened but, I have an IUD.” I say, still trying to wrap my head around the situation.

She nods dramatically, her lips pressing into a line as she listens to my concerns.

“Unfortunately, no birth control is 100 percent effective. In most cases, the IUD might have been displaced, or in some instances, the body rejects the device without you knowing. I actually would like to get clarity on that with an ultrasound, but I think it’s important for you to know the risks of this scenario here.” She says, turning slightly more serious.

“Risks?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” she says softly, “There is a possibility that, due to you having an IUD, this pregnancy may not be viable. Having an IUD increases the risk of what we call an ectopic pregnancy... are you familiar with that term?” Her hazel eyes lock onto mine and I shake my head, my heart starting to pound.

“Well, because you have a contraceptive device in the space where a fetus would normally develop, there's a risk that the pregnancy could occur outside the uterus. Typically the egg will implant itself in the fallopian tubes, which cannot host a safe or viable pregnancy...And if not treated immediately, the tube can rupture and cause internal hemorrhaging," She explains gently, carefully choosing her words to convey the seriousness of the situation.

I feel my heartbeat in my ears now as I process her words.

"So you're saying, this can be life threatening...for me and the..." My throat closes up and I can't finish my sentence.

She must take notice of the panic in my face, her round eyes widening slightly.

"If it goes untreated, yes. But I don't say this to make you panic, you're in good hands and whatever happens, we will take the next steps together." She places a hand on my knee, giving the tissue box so I can dry my uncontrollable tears.

"Based on your last period, you should be about seven weeks along. This ultrasound will confirm that and also ensure the pregnancy is positioned in the uterus. Before we proceed, I'd like to ask you a few questions... do you need a minute?" she asks gently, noticing my unease.

I hiccup and shake my head. "N-no, I'll be okay. Sorry," I mumble, wiping my nose.

"Don't apologize," she says kindly, giving me a moment to collect myself anyway, which I appreciate.

For a moment, I consider calling Nick in, but I decide against it. Even though we're close, this may be a little too personal, even for him and I.

"Have you been experiencing any cramping or discomfort in your back or abdomen?" She asks and typing my answer into the computer as I tell her no.

"Any spotting or bleeding?"

"I had some light bleeding last night, it only lasted maybe an hour... I had thought it was my period, but I knew something was off." I explain to her and she nods.

"That was most likely implantation bleeding, which is normal. It can be light spotting of blood, or some women experience heavy bleeding, similar to a period." She continues to take her notes before looking to me again, "Any tenderness in your breasts?"

"Oh, for sure. My breasts have been very sore the past few days,"

"Any nausea or vomiting?"

"Yes, the last couple of days–especially at night, I've been vomiting. I haven't really been sleeping well because of it."

"Yeah, the term 'morning sickness' is misleading... It can happen any time of day, you seem to be experiencing yours during the evening. Any other symptoms you've noticed that you'd like to note?" She asks and I try to think of some things.

"Uhh, I guess I've been more tired than usual, but I chalked that up to being up all night sick...I've also been getting hot flashes recently and I've definitely been more emotional,"

"These are all good to note, thank you very much," She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose before typing again.

She swivels herself back towards me, smiling warmly.

"We'll go ahead with the ultrasound now. But to get an accurate picture, we're going to do a transvaginal ultrasound, if that's okay with you."

"Okay, that's fine," I say, shakily.

She pulls the ultrasound cart to toward her before standing to move the stirrups into place so I can place my feet into them. She places a privacy cloth over me and I take a deep breath.

She puts a covering on the sheath of the ultrasound wand and places lubricant on the top of it. She taps a few buttons on the computer, calibrating the machine before turning towards me with a reassuring smile.

"So this will feel cold and you might feel a little pressure but if you feel any discomfort don't be afraid to tell me." She informs before placing the device inside to create the image.

I try not to wince and try to relax as much as possible. I go to look toward the screen but she has it faced towards her, so I opt to reading her facial expressions.

Dr. Sullivan adjusts her glasses by putting them on the tip of her nose and tilting her head back to get a better view.

She's quite animated with her expressions, her mouth opening slightly in concentration as she looks over the screen.

Although I can't see what she's looking at, she seems pleased, which is a relief.

"Okay, so good sign so far, I see your IUD," Dr. Sullivan says, leaning forward and pointing to the screen. "I can clearly see that it's sitting at the top of your cervix. It’s shifted down and away from your uterus. Do you happen to experience heavy cramping during your cycle?" she asks, her fingers tapping some buttons on the monitor.

"Yes, I do," I reply, the worry still gnawing at me.

She nods thoughtfully. "That could explain the displacement. Sometimes, intense cramping can cause the IUD to shift from its original position. It’s not common, but it does happen. It’s good that we’ve caught it now."

"I see the embryonic sac in, from what I can tell, a great spot. You're measuring at about 6 or 7 weeks along. Size of a blueberry." She says and I stop breathing.

I don't even hesitate to say yes as she asks if I would like to see.

My eyes are glued to the screen as I follow where her finger points, focusing on the grainy image. There it is—a tiny black oval with an even tinier dot in the middle. It's so small, I almost think I'm looking at the wrong thing.

“That’s... them?” I whisper, my voice barely audible as I try to comprehend the sight in front of me.

Dr. Sullivan nods, her expression tender. "That's your baby. It's early, but everything looks promising..."

"Really?" I squeak, still in disbelief, my throat tightening with sudden emotion as more tears fall down my face.

Relief— as she nods in confirmation, handing me the tissue box again.

Hope— as she zooms in, showing me the flickering of the heartbeat.

Joy—as I hear the heartbeat, feeling it sync with the thumping of my own.

For the first time since my dream, I feel joy, something beyond the crippling dread that had loomed over me all day. My heart swells and then bursts as I continue to stare at the flickering dot on the screen, blinking away the tears that blur my vision.

I breathe in shakily before a laugh escapes through a sob.

"Nice strong heartbeat, everything looks as it should... this looks like a healthy pregnancy," Dr. Sullivan announces, gently removing the ultrasound wand but keeping a looped video on the screen, allowing me a few more moments to take it all in.

"She's strong too, just like you,"

"So, the next step—for your safety—would be to remove the IUD today," she continues, her tone calm yet serious. "We can also discuss your options moving forward, including your decision on whether or not you would like to continue with the pregnancy. It's important to weigh all the possibilities and make the choice that's right for you."

"I-I'm gonna continue the pregnancy. It was in no way planned, but–"

"You don't need to explain...I had a feeling" She dismisses me gently, giving me a knowing smile, "I guess this calls for a congratulations,"

"Thank you," I say just above my breath, warmth still blooming through my chest.

After Dr. Sullivan removes my IUD, she tells me to dress while she steps out to calculate my due date.

I stare at the printed ultrasound picture, my heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. I’m not worried about the complications or uncertainties ahead right now. All that matters is this life inside me.

I feel much stronger than I did merely hours ago.

My due date was February 7th, the same as my grandmother’s birthday.

–

I had landed in Maine a few hours ago, my mom and I were organizing all of my grandma's belongings. We spent the afternoon together, grabbing lunch before heading over to my grandmother's house.

The house always felt like a time capsule, preserving every memory. The duck wallpaper in the dining room, the scent of pine and clove, the worn couch cushions, her miniature schnauzer figurine collection, and the framed pressed flowers from her children’s weddings—everything was always in its rightful place. It always looked the same.

Memories of me and my siblings spending weekends here whirling behind my eyelids as I inhale the familiar scent.

It evokes a bittersweet feeling.

We keep the mood light, sharing stories with each memory we packed away. I still saw the flicker of sadness in my mom's eyes, even through her laughter as we reminisced.

Sitting on the carpet in the living room, we go through the boxes full of pictures to put together a collage for the funeral. I come across a picture of my mother pregnant with my older brother.

It's a candid photo in the kitchen of my grandmother's house, her hand resting on her swollen belly that pokes out the bottom of her blue shirt, a soft smile on her face. My grandmother is beside her, beaming with pride, tying an apron around her waist.

My mother looked so young, her freckles prominent on her flushed cheeks and her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

I was always told I looked more like my dad, but seeing her like this, so close to my own age now, I can't help but notice the resemblance.

My mom notices my pause and looks over my shoulder. "That was just a few weeks before your brother was born," she says softly, her voice laced with nostalgia. "Your grandmother knew we were having a boy from the moment we told her,"

Her words send a chill down my spine.

I linger on the photo, feeling a wave of emotion rise up at the mention of my grandmother as the weight of my own news presses heavier on my chest.

"Were you really sick, when you were pregnant?" I ask, lowly.

She hums in thought, "With your brother? Only for maybe the first few weeks. With you though? Forget about it, I was sick everyday for months."

I stay silent for a moment, studying another photo of my mom and dad in the hospital room with my brother the day he was born. My mom is in the hospital bed, looking tired but radiant, while my dad is crouched next to her, gently cradling my brother in his arms.

"He was so bald," I laugh softly, and my mom chuckles beside me.

"His hair was so blonde, it was practically see-through. Your father called him 'egghead' for the first two months of his life," she says, shaking her head and rolling her eyes with a smile.

I look at the photo again, my gaze lingering on my mom's face. Her expression is filled with such warmth and love as she looks at my dad.

"How did you tell dad? You guys were both pretty young," I ask and she stifles a laugh.

"We actually found out together in a gas station bathroom..." She starts off with a slightly shameful smile, "I had been so sick on our camping trip with your aunt and uncle, so I decided on our way back home to take a test. We were shocked to say the least, but we were happy," She shrugs casually.

I think about how I was alone when I found out I was pregnant. Matt wasn't there, and it wasn't his fault, but the last 36 hours of keeping this from him has been torture.

The moment I saw the second line show up with fresh cold sweat still rolling down my neck, I had to bottle up this relentless guilt.

I feel guilt. It wasn't anyone's fault. This is the most serendipitous situation I've ever been in, but I put the blame on me. I have a choice and I'm choosing the route that will completely flip our already hectic lives upside down.

Tethering us together for life.

Even if this decision it feels right, it still carries an enormous weight. It’s not just my life that’s about to change—it's Matt’s too.

I have no doubt Matt will be supportive, but when you're left alone with your thoughts long enough, you can convince yourself of anything.

I've spent every waking minute wondering how he'll react, imagining every possible scenario, from the worst to the best. It's been an endless loop of 'what ifs,' and it’s taken everything in me not to just blurt it out over the phone.

"Were you scared at all? I mean, weren't you like 20?" I press, searching for reassurance in her response.

Her eyes widen before nodding, "Oh, we were scared shitless. Your father almost passed out. We had no idea what we were doing, but hey, we survived. For better or for worse,"

I nod, looking down at my lap and fidgeting with my fingers. My chest feels tight, and the weight of everything becomes almost unbearable.

"Mom, there's something I need to tell you... I–"

"I know," She looks at me with a small smile, her green eyes glistening with tears.

My brows furrow together, giving her a confused look.

"You do?" I ask, my voice trembling.

She shrugs, "I know everything, I'm your mom... Plus, you gagged at the smell of chicken today, that was a dead giveaway." She bites back a smirk and I cover my face, laughing through some tears before looking at her again.

"I guess I’m not as good at hiding things as I thought."

"You never were," She says softly as she scoots closer to me, bringing me into her warm embrace.

I sigh deeply into her, squeezing her tight and breathing in her comforting scent.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, still holding onto me.

"Scared shitless..." I joke and we share a laugh before she pulls back to wipe the tears that escaped against my will, "But I'm happy," I admit, scanning my mother's face for any sign of judgement.

There was none.

She wipes her own few tears, looking at me with only love in her eyes.

"My baby's having a baby,"

"I think grandma sent me this baby," I whisper, allowing my emotions to come through.

My mom tucks my hair behind my ear with her gentle, comforting touch and she listens intently as I tell her my dream. We hold onto each other and cry. I then show her the ultrasound pictures and we talk until the sun disappears.

My phone buzzes softly and I check the message to find Matt’s text that he’s landed and on his way. The reality of his imminent arrival causes a mixed-wave of nausea and guilt to wash over me.

My mom looks at me with a reassuring smile.

"I'll leave you two be so you can talk. I'll see you in the morning, my love." She tells me softly, kissing my cheek and hugging me tight.

Matt and I were gonna stay here during our time in Maine. It's best right now that we have our own space, especially since my brother and his girlfriend are staying by my parents house.

As she heads out, I take a deep breath and text Matt to let him know the door is unlocked. I slip into the shower, trying to calm my racing thoughts and steady my nerves. The warm water helps, but my mind keeps racing as I mentally prepare for the conversation ahead.

Wrapped in a towel, I check my reflection in the mirror, trying to see if I look any more put together than before.

I think this is the best we're going to get.

I jump when I here the front door open and shut, then some feet shuffling. My heart skips a beat.

Matt's here.

"It's just me," I hear him call out as well as more shuffling and a paper bag crinkling.

"Hey! I-I'll be right out!" I call back out, my heart picking up again but I take a deep breath.

I quickly get dressed in a tank top and shorts; there's a heat wave here, and I can't figure out how to adjust the thermostat.

I step out of the bathroom to see Matt standing at the kitchen island, unpacking burgers and fries onto the counter. The aroma of it makes my stomach growl and I realize I hadn't eaten anything since lunch.

I admire him for a second; he's wearing pink sweatpants, a black hoodie and a backwards fitted hat.

He turns at the sound of my presence and his face softens. I'm trembling when he steps forward to embrace me into a tight hug. He buries his face into my neck before giving me a few kisses there.

"Hi," I breath out, my voice shaky.

I was so nervous.

"Hey, you okay?" His voice is so soft, my heart aches. He pulls away, rubbing his hands up and down my arms while scanning my face.

"You're shaking. What's going on?" He presses.

He knows something is up, he can see it all over my face. I shake my head, brushing it off to have one more minute with him.

I pull him back to me, wrapping my arms around his neck this time and locking him against me. He bends down a bit to accommodate but doesn't question it, just hugging me back. His arms wrapping around my waist and pressing our stomachs together.

My heart is slamming against my ribcage and I know he can feel it, his thumb rubbing my hip soothingly tells me he does.

"How are you doing?" His voice is muffled with his face buried into my neck.

"I'm okay, better now that you're here. I missed you," I mumble, kissing the side of his neck and running my hand down between his shoulder blades.

I breath him in, noting the warmth of him and the solidness of his body against me.

"I missed you... I brought us food. I don't know about you, but I'm fucking starving," He puts his hands on my hips to pull back from the hug, but I stay put.

He chuckles, giving me one more squeeze.

I pull back just enough to line our faces up and give him a kiss, which he eagerly returns.

"Thank you for being here, it means a lot," I say against his lips and he pulls back slightly to push my hair out of my face.

"I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else." He hums into another kiss, then places three quick pecks before giving my butt a light tap, signaling that it’s time to let him go.

I finally release him and head to the food on the counter.

"I passed a Five Guys on the way here, so I hope that's good for you," He grabs a handful of fries before munching on them.

As I reach the counter, the smell of the burgers makes my mouth water, and I can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

“Five Guys is perfect, thank you,” I say, grabbing a fry from the bag and tasting its salty warmth.

Matt grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Good, because I was too hungry to think of anything else,” he jokes, unwrapping one of the burgers and handing it to me.

I take it, thanking him quietly, my fingers brushing against his. For a moment, I just look at him.

He’s here, and I should be telling him I’m pregnant with his child, but instead, we’re standing in the kitchen eating burgers. As if I’m trying to cling to this last bit of normalcy before everything changes.

I force myself to take a bite of my burger, moaning at the greasy, savory goodness. Matt smirks at me, taking a hearty bite of his own burger.

“S’good?” he asks through his bite, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

I nod, moaning again in response, savoring the taste as it temporarily distracts me from everything else.

Matt takes a sip of his drink before bringing a napkin to my face and wiping the corner of my mouth and chin.

"Wipe ya lip, kid," He teases and I roll my eyes, grabbing the napkin from him.

Matt inhales another large bite of his burger, and we slip into our familiar rhythm.

He tells me about his brief trip to Chicago, and I’m relieved to hear he managed to gather a few funny stories and catch at least one day of the festival. He’s notably enthusiastic while he talks, and I can’t help but smile at his excitement.

He also reassured me that Chris wasn't upset at all, which I already knew from the sweet text he sent me this morning.

“Well, I’m glad you had fun,” I say, trying to match his enthusiasm.

I then give him the rundown for the next few days while we prepare for the funeral and memorial.

We continue eating, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as we enjoy the burgers and each other’s company.

It feels so easy, so light. It always is with us. But underneath the surface, the words I need to say weigh heavy on my mind, threatening to break the easy rhythm.

Matt watches me closely, his own burger forgotten for the moment as he sees me disappear inside my head again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, his eyes look between mine. “You seem… I don’t know, you're acting weird.” He tries to find the right words.

"Matt..." I go to dismiss him, getting up slowly but he cuts me off, standing up too.

"No, I'm serious. You've been acting weird for days, and I'm no longer 2000 miles away for you to push me away or avoid me." He steps closer to me, trapping me against the counter with his arms on either side of me.

"Is it your about grandma? Did something else happen while I was gone?" He throws out, looking between my eyes.

"I–" I try to speak up but my voice gets caught in my throat and I get lost in the icy storm of his relentless gaze.

"It's not just my grandma," I manage to say, the admission causing him to soften slightly, a glimmer of relief at the small breakthrough.

"Okay, so talk to me, sweetheart. Please, I've been worried sick about you. You have no idea," he pleads, his breath brushing against my skin.

"I didn't know how to tell you..." I try to put together my words but I feel like I'm making it all worse.

I watch as his eyebrows pinch together and he leans down more so he's eye level with me instead towering over me.

"Tell me what, kid. I'm not a mind reader," His voice strains, frustration evident in his face.

When I try to break eye contact with him he pulls my chin to align our eyes again.

"What, d'you crash my car?" he guesses, clearly joking, his eyebrows raising playfully.

I can't help but smile and snort at his attempt to ease the tension.

"No, it’s not that," I say, my voice cracking slightly. "It's much bigger than that," I trail off and he waits expectantly.

"I uh– I went to the doctor yesterday," I pause and study his face, which drops ever so slightly, seeming to be bracing himself.

He stays silent, whether it was out of patience or fear, nothing could have prepared for my next sentence.

"I went to confirm that I was pregnant," I finally blurt out, my voice shaky, and he freezes.

Not one muscle moves in his face or his body.

"You're..." His voice cracks and he clears his dry throat, hitting his chest, "Are you serious?"

"I'm seven weeks, or a month and a half," I stammer, my voice wavering. "I don't really know how to—"

"Seven..." He whispers in disbelief, the shock settling in and I nod. "Y-you were on birth control– you have that AED–"

"IUD, yes, I did. It still happened, that shit is useless if it moves out of place," I explain and he looks down between us.

"A-and everything's okay, you're okay?" He looks up at me again, holding onto my face.

I take hold of his wrists, rubbing my thumb over his skin.

"I'm fine, the baby's fine..." I say softly and his eyes widen in realization as he pales.

"Oh my fucking god," He pulls back, cupping his hands over his mouth. "I need to sit down."

"Okay, okay. Do you want water?" I panic, hoping he doesn't pass out or puke.

He takes a seat at the dining table, shaking his head before taking off his hat and leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Oh my god, I thought I was crazy..." He says, his voice cracking with nerves as he presses his palms into his eye sockets.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I had a feeling all fucking week," he says, his voice still shaky, and my brows knit together.

"I knew something was up. You were acting different. You were moodier than usual, you were napping all the time—and you never nap... and your tits are huge," he adds, and I roll my eyes.

"Sorry, that’s beside the point," he continues quickly, "I just couldn’t shake the feeling that you could be... I think I was trying to convince myself you weren't, but then you were so sick before I left," he rambles, staring blankly at the wall.

"It's a lot to take in, I know." I swallow thickly as I watch him process everything.

"You're pregnant," he says finally, looking at me again, this time with tears brimming his eyes. "And you were dealing with all of this by yourself," His voice is low and I shake my head, moving to stand between his legs, cupping his face gently.

"Hey, no. None of that... How could you have known?" I shush him and pull his head towards my chest.

His hands rest behind my thighs, his thumb lightly stroking my right leg. I run my fingers through his hair, comforting him as much as he's comforting me.

"I've been so scared to tell you..." I confess softly and he pulls back slightly, looking up at me with his brows furrowed.

"I know this wasn't part of our plan...at least not for a while. But before I took a test, the night my grandma passed, I had a dream. I was here, in my grandmother's garden... and she told me I was pregnant. Matt, the feeling I had," I pause, struggling to find the right words.

"It was the most intense, pure form of happiness I've ever felt. I can't even describe it to you..." I trail off.

I shake my head, "I know, I sound crazy. But I think this was meant to happen." I whisper, heat creeping up my neck at the admission.

He’s silent for a moment, absorbing my words. Then, a slow smirk carves a crease into the side of his mouth. "You are fucking crazy…" he murmurs, his playful tone breaking the tension as his smile lines deepen.

I huff a breathy laugh, the sound catching in my throat as my emotions take over again. Tears blur my vision, and I can’t hold them back any longer.

"Are you mad?" I squeak, letting my fear slip through the dam I built up.

He's immediately shaking his head, his eyes widen with sincerity, "Mad? Of course not. I mean, I thought we'd maybe get a cat first but..." He says, quirking his lip and I can't help the laugh that escapes through a sob.

I was the definition of an emotional wreck.

He gently squeezes my hips as I tip my head back to collect myself.

"Look at me," he says firmly, and I sniffle and hiccup before forcing myself to look at him. "Am I surprised? Yes. Terrified? Definitely. But, not even close to mad."

He wipes my tears tenderly, "We're going to be okay. Take it easy, alright? Deep breaths," His tone gentle but assertive, dragging me out of the pit of my dark thoughts.

I sigh as his thumbs draw circles on the exposed skin on my hips.

"I'm sorry," I say and he pulls me to sit sideways on his lap this time.

"Why are you sorry?" he asks softly, intertwining our fingers and bringing my hand to his mouth for a kiss.

"Our lives are going to change and I feel like it's my fault,"

"C'mere," He pulls me in fully, wrapping his arms around my waist. "I love you, and we're going to get through this... We were gonna do it anyway; we're just getting a headstart, yeah? Everything is going to work out," He tells me softly and I can tell he means every word.

Matt never says anything he doesn't mean.

"Also, don't say stupid shit like this is your fault. Last time I checked, it takes two to tango," He says firmly, lightly slapping my hip.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat as I lean into him completely, resting my head on his shoulder. His hand rubs gentle circles on my back, and I close my eyes, letting myself soak in the comfort of his presence.

"I missed you so much," I whisper, my voice muffled against his shirt. "I've been so sick, this kid might be trying to kill me," I try to joke, and he breathes a laugh into my shoulder.

A few beats of silence pass, broken only by the distant sound of crickets outside and the occasional creak of the old house settling.

"We're having a kid," He speaks up, realization laced in his voice and I hum against him. "Maybe we're both fucking crazy,"

I stifle a laugh and pull back to look at him, "D'wanna see it?" I ask, getting up from his lap and he looks to my stomach with a raised brow.

"Kid, you're not showing yet," he says, leaning back into the chair with his arms crossed, a playful smirk on his face and I roll my eyes.

"No, the ultrasound. Hold on," I say as I head to the counter to grab the pictures from my bag.

I pull out the strip of photos, and when I turn back, I see Matt standing up and stretching. He takes off his sweatshirt and his shirt riding up slightly, exposing a sliver of his stomach. Heat rises to my face but I can't stare too long though because he's walking towards me to look over my shoulder.

"Okay, what am I lookin' at?" He stands behind me, his hands on his hips as his head tilts in concentration.

"You see this black circle here?" I point to the sonogram, and he leans in closer, his breath warm against my neck as he grabs hold of the paper to steady it.

"Yeah, that's it?" He asks, narrowing his eyes and I giggle.

"No, do you see the tinier white blob inside it? That's the baby." I explain and his face scrunches for a second, looking at the picture again.

"No fucking way," he says in disbelief, a wide smile breaking across his face. "That tiny thing?" His voice raises a pitch as he looks at me, eyes wide with awe, "Can barely fucking see that," He says playfully before rubbing his eyes.

"Mhm," I can't help but giggle as he wraps an arm around me, pulling me in and placing a kiss to my temple. "Just wait til you hear it, the heartbeat was insane. It was so fast," I add and he freezes.

The realization in his face settles in even deeper as I tell him that, his soft smile returning.

"You heard the heartbeat?" He whispers, looking between my eyes and I nod.

"Yeah, yesterday. They emailed me the video of it, I'll show you in a bit if you want," I tell him and he kisses me then like he can't help himself.

"That's fucking nuts... do you feel pregnant?" he asks, his voice curious and his eyes slowly lowering to my stomach peaking out of my tank top.

I shake my head, "Not at all. I just feel like shit... and constantly bloated," I admit, laughing softly.

He lightly chuckles himself, a charmed smile on his face as he reaches to rubs my stomach a couple times.

"We're really gonna have to lock in, kid." He moves around me to pull me into a full hug, pressing our stomachs together.

"Okay, gamer, acting like this is a video game..." I scoff teasingly and he bends down, laughing into my neck.

"Well, what else do you want me to say? We're leveling up..." he continues the joke and I jab his side with my finger.

"Ow," he fake-cries, clutching his side with exaggerated pain before breaking into a fit of giggles.

"Stop saying corny shit, you goof," I warn, though his laughter makes it impossible not to smile.

I bury my face in his chest, my ear pressed against his heart as we settle into a comfortable silence.

"Now we really gotta get our own place," He says and I can hear his smirk.

"I don't know…" I shrug slightly, considering. "Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to stick around for a bit. It might be nice to have the extra help before we go completely on our own."

He pulls back slightly to look at me, tilting his head with an inquisitive expression. "You really think my brothers will be any help? They don’t know anything about babies."

I snort. “Probably not, but neither do we." I reason and his mouth shrugs in defeat.

"Good point... I guess we can wait it out, we're not in a rush. It'll definitely give us more time to research where would want to be somewhat permanently," He points out.

I hum into him and try not stress about that. The reality is we'd be putting ourselves in a tough spot—both our families are here on the East Coast, but our jobs and lives are rooted in LA.

It's easy to go back and forth when it was just us, but now we're gonna have a kid.

"I already hear your mind racing," his voice breaks me out of my thoughts as he rubs my back. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out..." he says softly, and I sigh deeply.

My stomach turns when I get a whiff of the food still laid out on the table.

"Matt," I say, pulling back slowly, holding my stomach.

"Mm?" he hums, looking at me with concern as I put my hand over my mouth.

"The smell of those burgers is making me sick now," I try not to laugh, and he shakes his head, immediately tossing all the trash into the large paper bag it came in.

"Alright, where's the incinerator?"

[suguru-getos]

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 8﹕✦﹕┈・୧

Hawks x f!reader -> Cockwarming

Event Masterlist

a/n: soft hawksie, comfort, slice of life <3, cockwarmin.

there are times your work, your day absolutely drains the fuck out of you. you want nothing more than keigo and to be covered in the duvet of his wings. today you were late from work, reaching home at 10 pm. it was irritating— you were drained and your shoulders were slumped, keigo noticed the lack of ease and effortlessness in your body language and facial expressions in the morning itself. a sudden murmur when he wore his hero jacket, “why don’t you take an off from work sweetie? take my card and spoil yourself a bit mm?” keigo tried, but you dismissed his proposal. “no, im good thanks kei” your smile also seemed forced—

now that you had returned home, keigo came over to you immediately. wearing his grey joggers and a white tee. fuck he didn’t even have to try !! he was so ethereal. the blazing sun had toned down in japan & keigo’s golden tan with it. you walked towards him, hugging him eagerly. a musical chuckle escaped him as his hands groped your back, “aww~ my cute little birb.” he mumbles, leaning back and kissing your lips softly, melting away your stress and worries. “dinner?” he muses, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“mhm, what do we have?” you asked him, nuzzling against his palm when he cupped your face. “mm, whatever you want is what we have. keigo’s kitchen especially catered to his baby girl.” he grinned. you love that he addressed himself as keigo and not ‘hawks’ in front of you.

“some chicken soup.” you hummed, smiling back at him tenderly, through tired eyes.

“gotcha~” he took out his phone to check for outlets and you chuckled, “hey now, wasn’t this keigo’s kitchen?” keigo bit his lip, blushing with a grin. “yes it is, just out sourcing some stuff.” he winked, sounding exactly like the man of your dreams — oh wait, he is.

the dinner came in quick, by the time you were out of the shower, a stray plume caressed your cheek, making you giggle as you paved your way towards the dining area. “dinner is ready missy, sit down.” keigo looked at you, still in the bathrobe and whistled. “oh my~” you blushed and rolled your eyes at his antics, sitting down and having dinner with your husband. things seem so great when you start counting these little moments that life awards you with your man.

once the dinner was finished, where you talked to him about work, he talked about his— well, as much as he could share of course. you got up. flustered at what you’re about to ask. “wanna, cockwarm.” the words came out of your mouth easy. keigo smirked, “mm? want to feel daddy that close huh?” you nodded, blushing and looking down.

you nodded, looking into his eyes because you know he likes it. “yeah, wan’- wan’ to feel you close keigo.” you looked down, fuck his siren gaze with his marked golden eyes made you shiver. “and too tired for the whole sex.” you pouted, while keigo observed you in awe.

“mkay, if my sweet little girl wants that, who the hell am i to deny her demands? don’t want to be a bad daddy to my kid.” he winked, carrying you bridal style, a low purr escaping him when you lean against his chest as he took you to your shared bedroom.

“looks like gotta work you up first mm? how else are you gonna take daddy’s cock?” keigo smirked, oh he had no filter at times… you pouted, quite impatient and wanting to feel stretched & full already. after all these years with you, keigo has become an excellent mind reader. “okay okay~ let me get the lube, mm?” he cooed, pulling the knot of your bath suit and kissing your exposed tits. tugging at your nipples just to check how far he could go with them. they get really sensitive depending upon the time of the month & keigo doesn’t want to hurt his darling.

spreading your legs, pupils dilating in anticipation, keigo lubed up your pretty pussy and groaned when you arched your back at him rubbing your clit. “there she is, there she is.” he hums, spreading your cunt lips and thrusting himself in slowly. you arched your back and whined, gasping at the stretch. “fuck— i can’t.” you moaned when keigo pressed your pelvis, making you feel just how deep he’s reaching.

“that’s it sweetness, that’s it. ssh~ you’re taking it so well.” he crooned, kissing your neck and stilling. your eyes were glossing up. overwhelmed by the smouldering amount of love keigo showers you with. “i love you.”

“i love you too.” he said it like a silent prayer, smiling tenderly at you and leaning beside, adjusting your position & kissing your forehead deeply. “cute. my cute little angel birdie.” he smiled, kissing your eyelids. “let it go for me okay? all your worries, all your stress. because i’d always be here.”

and he’ll always be there for you. <3 you don’t doubt that.

[sixosix]

PLASTIC FLOWERS | LYNEY

i. summary the great magician lyney wooing nine-to-fiver reader

ii. tags 1.8k words, fluff, reader is a little slow but hey that’s what 9-to-5 does to someone, pining lyney, awkward flirting, and a lot of wilted flowers im sorry…

You’ve heard of Lyney and Lynette in passing before. You might’ve rushed past one of their street performances once or twice, or maybe you stumbled upon flyers promoting their grand shows fluttering past. However, today, they are the center of every discussion, particularly Lyney, from your gushing coworkers. They swoon about how charming the young man was to them, and how exceptionally talented twins are.

You start to feel a little left out. You want to witness what all the excitement is all about, too. Your nine-to-five has you rushing back and forth the streets of Fontaine like there’s no tomorrow—and to your defense, with all the rumors and prophecies floating around, it might as well be that case.

Afternoon. Nearly evening. Your legs feel like water, liquid, and unable to keep themselves upright. You’re like a zombie walking back to your humble abode, drained of human life from too much human interaction.

A round of applause has you slowing your steps, your attention pulled towards a small crowd as if struck by a magnetic force.

A young man stands at the center, grinning devilishly as the crowd once again erupts into gasps of awe. He clutches a deck of cards in his hand, the classic image of what comes to mind when you think of magicians. Yet, you find yourself unable to move. It might be your water-legs; it might be how the man has everyone spellbound.

“Thank you, everyone!” he says, and the spell is broken at once. Was it a spell? It felt like one. “Be sure to come next week to Lynette and I’s performance at the Opera Epiclese, alright?” So he is Lyney.

Witnessing his elegance and heart-stealing smirk, you at least now know that your coworkers were certainly telling the truth.

The crowd filters out one by one. You do the same, wondering how much the tickets would cost. Hopefully no more than your usual dinner; that would mean you’d have to eat frozen bread for an entire evening.

“Wait, wait!”

You turn at the frantic exclamation, startled when Lyney is looking directly at you and rushing toward you. Panicked, you quickly scan your surroundings, only to find that there’s no one else he could possibly be referring to.

Just you.

“Hello,” you murmur begrudgingly once he’s at a close distance.

“Hi,” he says back, a little breathless. “You missed the show earlier.”

“I—I did.” Is he seriously talking to you? “But don’t worry! I saw enough. It was really cool!” Really? It was really cool?

He relaxes, his smile turning pleased. Lyney’s gaze feels heavy when you’re the only one holding onto it. “That’s a shame. I’ve seen you around before, zipping through. I won’t let you slip through my fingers this time around.”

His voice is smooth. You find yourself liking the lilac of his eyes.

At your stunned silence, Lyney continues, “Here, watch my hand closely, alright?”

You nod obediently, mostly to conceal how flustered his presence is making you feel. It feels as if his voice is right beside your ears, or it might just be how it seems like the world quiets down for this moment.

He closes his palm. You hear him huff a sweet laugh. You get distracted and glance up, though it seems it was a mistake. He grins at you knowingly, eyes twinkling—his stupid, dark eyes. You look back down, and a flower has magically appeared square on his palm.

It’s a flower you’re unfamiliar with, but it’s beautiful and smells sweet so you find yourself uncaring of whatever it could mean.

He stares patiently.

You blink, dumb-struck. “For me?”

“Of course,” he says with a dazzling grin.

“Oh, thank you, but I— I really don’t know how to take care of these things, and I’m so busy, I don’t know if I should—”

You reject it. Which, in hindsight, was most rude.

Lyney tilts his head, smiling like you’re some cute cat he found passing by—and that gaze has your words dying on your tongue. “I’m not giving it to you for you to feel burdened with the responsibility of taking care of it. Trust me, I just want you to have it.”

You look at him, uncertainty flashing in your expression. “You don’t want to give it to someone else…?”

“Why would I? I saved this one especially for you,” the sweet talker says.

You highly doubt his words, but it’s nice to hear nevertheless. With a bashful smile, you take the flower and vow to yourself to take care of it as much as you can. It’s the only flower you’ve received your entire life.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

He lights up impossibly, standing out so easily against the crowd. Just like that, you’re captivated.

The next day, Lyney reappears in your life. You're beginning to suspect that his hat conceals an infinite stockpile of these roses, and maybe that's the true magic: the enigma of Lyney's never-ending supply.

This time around, he’s loitering the streets without plans for any performances, however small. Though, he still entertains you in different ways.

“My work’s not too nice,” you tell him when he asks why you look tired, all too aware of your sore feet and cheeks from straining smiles all day. “I don’t know how you performers do it non-stop. I feel like I could just sleep on this sidewalk.”

“It might be helping that I love doing what I do,” Lyney supplies after a thoughtful hum. It’s still a little surreal having the man printed in posters and pictures all over The Steambird is now casually walking alongside you, but it’s nice. You feel your world has just brightened up a little—the new change of pace painting over the dull back and forth you’ve been living through for a while.

“Hey,” Lyney starts, as your eyes flick up from the ground to him. He’s holding another flower.

You smile as you gingerly take it from his fingers, skin brushing against his glove-free hands. “You’re helping the flower shops thrive, that’s for sure.”

“What can I say? I’m wonderful like that.”

You laugh, but it quickly dies down when you catch a glimpse of how Lyney is staring at you so openly with a bit of awe.

You clear your throat, looking away.

Lyney does the same as you find your face heating up. “Sorry.”

“Um,” scrambling for a change of topic, you say, “Are you trying to get me to watch the show you and your sister are holding next week?”

“What?” Lyney blinks, caught off guard. He smiles lopsidedly as you await for an answer. “No, I’m talking to you because I like you. And here I thought I was making myself obvious.”

“Sorry, I’m a bit slow,” you say, in a daze at his blunt confession.

That was nothing (that has to be). That was probably just your imagination, honestly—fantasizing about a handsome face, a small braid, and a mischievous grin. And you definitely don’t find yourself lying awake at night thinking about it.

As always, Lyney comes with a flower in hand. And you find out that he wasn’t lying when he said he saves a special flower for you.

You’re not sure how it seamlessly became a routine with him. At times, you wonder if he’s actually keeping track of the roses if you haven’t been throwing them to the trash. You wouldn't be able to deny it; you eventually would have to discard a once again graying rose, no matter how heartbreaking the parting is.

This time, you’re prepared. You've been studying up, like a lovesick high school student devouring dating magazines during your spare moments at work. The rose will still most likely wilt unfairly fast with how you’re barely a presence in your own home; sleeping soundly as soon as you arrive.

Lyney is smiling softly as he gives this one to you, silent. Though that’s probably because you’re raving on about how you swear that the next ones he’ll give will live longer if you figure out how to do it right.

He likes doing that—staring at you like watching a film play even though he’s the one on stage more often than not.

“Do you know what all those flowers I gave you mean?” he asks as you’re twirling it around and counting the petals. They’re still bright pink, fading to yellow at its tips. You shake your head. It could mean anything, really. You haven’t gotten to that part of the book yet. “My feelings for you,” he says. “I give them to you every day so you’re reminded of it.”

Your finger catches on one of the petals, your skin burning. “…Is that what you think? I feel horrible; the flowers you’ve given me all die in a day or two.”

Lyney laughs. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

“How else can I show you I’m not just casting your feelings aside?”

You turn to Lyney, wondering why he suddenly went silent. Only then, you see how he has his face buried in his palm, a dazed smile peeking out from what’s visible. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“...Sorry.”

He recovers fast. “Don’t be sorry.” Lyney holds your jaw in a precise grip, keeping your gaze focused on him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

It’s only the next morning do you realize that the petals haven’t changed at all. You’re not sure why you haven’t noticed earlier.

Then again, you should’ve realized when he brought up what they mean so suddenly, that slick bastard.

Lyney sees you around the afternoon, and immediately he sees something new around your collar, probably because he keeps staring at it.

Lyney pulls you closer with a hand on the small of your back, and the other inspecting your brand-new necklace. “Is this…?”

It was a bit difficult to craft your own accessory, but you tried nevertheless. If Lyney goes out of his way to purchase different kinds of flowers, the least you can do is show him that each one makes you as happy as the first one did.

“You said they’re kind of like your feelings, right?” you say, unsure as to why you’re whispering. Lyney’s expression looks a little fragile. “So I made them into something to remind me of you every day.”

He presses his face onto your neck, and you nearly lose balance, holding onto the back of his head to keep yourself upright. “You’re too cute, amour. My heart can’t handle all of this,” he weeps dramatically.

( “Close your mouth, Lyney. You’re drooling,” Lynette says as she follows his gaze, watching you flutter past.

Lyney’s mouth snaps shut, wiping at his lips. He frowns. “I wasn’t even drooling.” He shakes his head. “Nevermind that—do you know who that was?”

“No,” Lynette says simply. “But I’m sure you’ll find a way to figure out eventually.” )

lyney went back to giving you real flowers after that btw

this was inspired by me daydreaming about lyney’s character quest and remembering that he literally gave us that flower accessory

[floylia]

ELYSIAN ♫

18. Am I wrong? ✎

“So my manager leaked my information.” It’s not a question anymore.

Scara nods apologetically as if he was at fault, eyes gleaming with genuine sincerity. This is the third time, he’s been vulnerable with you. He guides you up the cobblestone path, leading you closer to the Estate’s courtyard. The sun has already grazed its goodbye, only the moon rests above, gleaming at you and Scara. The darkness along the trees, shrubs, and boulders around the garden is eerie but something about his presence soothes your worries—something about his rare smile, hushed voice, and messy hair.

Perhaps it’s everything about him.

You pause in your tracks, watching over the waves on the beach—hands on the wooden fences standing around the courtyard, “Do you think they’ll believe me?”

“They’ll believe you once you tell your side.”

Doubt lingers, “What if they don’t?”

“Then they’re all fuck heads with no hobbies,” He swerves his head, now facing you with narrow eyes, and brows pulled together, “It’s stupid, how some of them graduated with degrees but have no basic sense of empathy or respect. They’re all entitled, gullible, and hypocritical assholes who use every opportunity to deflect their insecurities on others. It’s a crazy world we live in.”

The scowl on his face is almost laughable—how angry at the world he is on your behalf. You take note of Scara's wrath, experiencing it is not for the weak. Although, you don’t need to worry. His patience for you seems limitless.

“I can’t believe Jean lets you handle your social media accounts. You have no filter.”

He scoffs, “She doesn’t, but I find my way. They have to change the password every other week or else I might be permanently banned on every platform.”

You chuckle at his smug expression, “I want your confidence.”

“You already have it, you just need to use it.”

You avoid his gaze, “You sure do have a lot of faith in me.”

“Because I believe in you.”

For how long? You heard those same words before and they never kept their promises. Your agency, your manager. It was blind trust. Funny how life works.

“You blindly trusted me.”

You didn’t mean to say that. But it can’t be helped. What if one day you disappoint him? Will he leave too, like your manager? Or your fans?

“I knew you wouldn’t do that.”

No he didn’t. What did he know?

“There’s always a possibility—“

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” He sighs before running a hand through his hair, “Am I wrong for trusting you?”

You shake your head in guilt, realizing you let your doubts slip. Overthinking kills the mood, “It’s just that—“

“Am I wrong for wanting to be with you?” His voice softened.

You squint your eyes, unsure of what he means. You open your mouth to say something, anything to fill the silence, but nothing comes out.

So he inches forward, his left hand rests on your cheek, the other latches down to your waist, gentle and warm—you lean in to his touch, “Is it wrong to be this close?”

“No but—“

“For once please,” He sounds desperate, “Fuck what they think, focus on me and you. They can all go to hell.”

“So tell me: Is it wrong to need you at every moment?”

Once again you shake your head, this time with no interruptions.

“Is it wrong to be with you? To wake up every morning knowing I’m yours—knowing I can flirt shamelessly without doubting your feelings? Knowing I can write songs about you without hiding my love. Knowing I can feed you my favorite dishes without asking: am I doing too much? Or buy you things that remind me of you because not a single day goes by without your presence in my fucked up head.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. Everything is blurry but your gaze remains on Scara. Only him, because it has always been him.

“Am I wrong for feeling this way?” He whispers softly—so gentle that you want to apologize for trying to push him away.

You wrap your arms around his neck, “Kiss me.”

“Can I really?”

“Please.”

He does.

He does like his life depends on it.

Notes:

im on vacation but nothing will stop me from writing 😃

sorry for grammatical errors or spelling mistakes

Synopsis: After 7 years of enduring the media’s relentless pursuit of painting you as a villain, you’re forced to go through an indefinite hiatus with a tainted reputation on your head. However, just when you thought your career was over, a certain 5WIRL member wants you to feature on his solo career. Surely, this won’t affect your reputation once more, would it?

Scaramouche x fem!reader

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[riaki]

haii >:3 i was wondering of you could write a thing on if reader was a classmatw of gojo when they were in jujutsu tech? ur hsbullt gojo was really well written 💗

sorry if i sound rude, im not familiar with how tumblr works ;(

hey there!! thank u sm for ur ask nonnie ! hope this is good... and don’t worry!!!! ur perfectly fine my love 🤍

classmates | satoru gojo x reader cw: calls u princess, swearing

1:34PM. 5/21/06 - JUJUTSU TECH GYM - more than friends, less than lovers

"fucking hell, satoru!" you rub your head slowly, gritting your teeth as pain hammers the side of your skull; feels like a bruise is going to form, and you’re pretty sure you have basketball line marks on your face.

satoru jogs over to you, the rubber soles of his shoes squeaking on the gym floor. there's that pesky grin on his lips again, and his eyes shine, a vibrant glow of youth. he’s not apologetic at all, you think with gritted teeth. he slows to a stop a few yards away from you, a panting, sweaty mess, yet you find yourself irritably drawn to him either way. he shoots you a quick wink, fanning himself with his shirt in a way that lets the dip of his hip expose itself to the musty air of the gym. a droplet of sweat slides down his skin, and your face burns.

"yo! pass me that ball, [name]." he waves an eager hand towards you, and you roll your eyes, tossing the basketball in his direction. it lands square on his chest with a thump, eliciting a little ‘oof’ from his lips and pressing the cotton of his shirt against his damp skin. and it sticks, defining his muscles in patches of wet cloth. the summer heat must really be getting to you, because the sound of his voice has your thoughts running far, far away from you.

you’re yanked back into reality when a little huff escapes his glossy lips, wiping his forehead and messing up his soft white hair, stray strands clinging together over his eyes. shoko made away with his sunglasses, which means you’ve got a front seat view of those gorgeous, yet equally uncanny irises. "hey, you've got a solid throw. you should give it a shot, yeah? why not join me 'n suguru for a round—"

“hell no.”

he just laughs at that, haughty and everything you should really learn to hate as he turns on his heel and heads back toward the center of the court, where suguru is waiting with an irked expression on his face.

“suit yourself, princess.” he tosses a wave in your direction of his shoulder, and you raise a hand to your chest, feeling your heart slam against your ribcage.

9:02AM. 11/06/07 - JUJUTSU TECH CLASSROOM - best friends

“so.”

gojo glances at you, as if surprised you broke the silence. you can see your own reflection in the lens of his shades, hiding his gaze from the world. sunlight filters in through the windows; it’s early, a break between classes. it shouldn’t be stuffy in the classroom with the windows open, but it still feels suffocating.

you stare at him, and he stares back from his seat atop your desk. his lips are curved down in that usual unamused look he’s always sporting, but there seems to be weight in his shoulders; a ghost tugging his muscles down, stiffening the muscles in his neck to the point where you wish you could just offer him a massage. but you’re not sure if he’d let you get close enough to ever do that.

“what?” he snaps, glaring at you as he sticks his bottom lip out. at least, you think he’s glaring— it’s been harder to tell lately, what’s on his mind. not that you were ever able to read him easily before, though. he likes to hide.

you kick the leg of the desk he’s sitting on with a foot, sighing and humming to yourself for a moment or two. you don’t see it, but gojo’s expression softens slightly and he looks back up at the ceiling again, callused fingers curling around the edge of the desk. the pale color of his skin makes the veins on his hands more prominent; a subtle, muted blue that makes you want to run a hand over his arm.

the two of you had stopped by a store that morning. you’d bought a cup of coffee and two onigiri for yourselves, but it seems like he’s already finished his. you know right now is the prime time for his appetite to flare up— with adolescence and all, but he doesn’t seem to be eating much. or at least, not from what you can tell.

“here, have this.”

gojo glances down at you once more, letting himself observe you with his full vision; not one that’s always hidden behind a layer of thick black stained glass, meant to absorb the pain and the headaches for him. you, who’s so gentle and soft with him— surely you wouldn’t cause him any sort of aching, if not for the one inside the cavity of his chest. it takes him a moment to realize you’re holding out something to him— your onigiri, half eaten. there’s a shriveled little plum showing, burrowed between the layers of sticky rice and dry seaweed wrappings.

he’s uncharacteristically silent as he grabs it from you, the crinkle of the plastic wrapping the only noise in the world as he stares at it for a moment before starting to eat. his cheek puffs when he starts chewing; the bob of his adam’s apple in his throat when he swallows makes it hard for you to stifle a smile. even with the weight of all he’s carrying, gojo still manages to look like a child every now and then. you can’t help but think he’s grown up too fast.

you let a moment of silence pass, stealing a long glance at him as he busies himself with his half of the rice ball, wolfing it down.

“i know i cant offer much to you, satoru…” you started quietly; tenderly, if he listened closely. the way you say his name makes his throat constrict in a way he’s not familiar with.

“…but if you ever need something— anything— i’ll be here. plus, i never finish my onigiri anyway. so you can have the half i don’t eat,” you laughed, closing your eyes and listening to the morning breeze outside. gojo takes the opportunity to observe you; the soft curve of your cheeks, the way your lashes curl, the soft fade of your full lips at the edges and the hair that frames your face.

you can feel his eyes on you, but you let him get away with it. it feels like an infinite eternity goes by before his voice finally cuts through the thick air.

“…have you been resting? the bags under your eyes are darker than usual.” he pokes at you, shifting again, but you seem to revel in the comfortable familiarity of his banter; something that makes his heart ache in a way only you elicit from him. the way you pull at his heart strings is so natural and easy that it’s unnatural to ignore.

“probably more than you have,” you teased. gojo sniffles, and you chalk it up to the seasonal illnesses.

2:46AM. 12/07/08 - JUJUTSU TECH DORMS - ?

it’s half past two in the morning when you get gojo’s text. or, more accurately, the one you forced him to send when he returned from his mission.

m done. u can come pver

he looks a little too much like a zombie when you knock on the door of his dorm and it swings open for you, revealing him in all his tired glory. the bags under his eyes are redder and darker than usual, and his hair is tussled and messy. it’s obvious he hasn’t bothered to clean himself up. his white tee is stained with something damp; his tears, but you don’t dwell on it. there’s a bandaid on the bottom of his jaw; you can see a hint of angry red scrapes peeking out from beneath the beige material.

“you look like shit.”

“are you gonna come in or not?”

you oblige and step inside, the plastic bag in your hand rustling with each movement. it’s a bit loud, and you just pray you don’t get caught sneaking into gojo’s room this late at night. at least you know which boards creak.

he closes the door behind you, crossing his arms over his chest and observing you. you look the same as you always do, but the way your hair falls over your face makes him want to brush it back, like some unresolved impulse. he doesn’t do anything about it; hanging around you for so long has taught him how to keep himself in control. for as long as he can manage, anyway.

he speaks up first, voice hoarse and low with lack of use. “what’s in the bag?” he makes it sound like it’s something illegal. and at this point, you’re not sure if the feeling that pushes you to do things for him should be considered so, because sometimes it feels like it.

“a birthday cake. or— it’s a fruit tart i stayed up to make.” you said, placing the bag on his cluttered desk, pushing away photo frames and bloody tissues and pencils shaven down to eraser stubs to make room for the box. satoru meanders over to you, peering over your shoulder with one hand on the desk to support himself. you can feel his breath on your neck, hot even in the darkness. it makes your hands clammy.

moonlight spills in from the windows next to his bed, but it’s not enough, so you turn on the lamp and open the box. the tart’s been through quite a bit— jostled in transport, marred in the making— but the sweet smell of fruit and cream makes his mouth water nonetheless.

“wow, that’s nice of you. weirdly so, actually. are you really [name]?” you can hear the grin in satoru’s voice, and you know he can hear the exasperation in your voice when you reply, using the plastic utensils you packed to cut a slice for him. the red strawberry juice stains the cream as your knife slices through, a rivulet of vermillion.

“shut up and be grateful. you get the slice with kiwi and the rotten blueberries just for that,” you huff, indignantly in a way that reminds satoru of a rather petulant housecat. he takes the tart from you, cold fingers ghosting over yours as the golden brown crust crumbles in his palm.

ignoring the sour berries, the taste is like a bite of heaven, but not the distant kind that’s hidden behind a veil of clouds. the kind that’s only found within the quaint, humble warmth of a homely kitchen, made with love by one’s own hand. your hand. the knowledge tastes all the sweeter on his tongue.

he’s snapped from his dazed pastry-savoring stupor when you speak up again, enjoying a slice of your own.

“happy birthday, gojo.” he stiffens, but he’s not quite sure why. if you notice his change in demeanor, you don’t say anything about it.

“congrats to another year,” you smiled, lifting up your half-eaten tart, not unlike the onigiri you’d shared with him a year ago. except this time he reciprocates, and you share a toast of berries and cream in the darkness of his dorm, at 3am on a quiet sunday.

the dorms are silent. the only sound is the wind outside, throwing leaves and dust at the window panes as it sings a tune in ode to winter. come tomorrow, it’ll likely be silenced by a coating of thick, white snow; unmoving, burying the secrets of the earth beneath the glittering icicles. not unlike the boy next to you, with pretty blue eyes that are constantly focused yet distant all the same, hair the color of clouds and face worn with age unbefitting of a child.

come tomorrow, the snow will fall and snuff out the life of the flowers and plants. but in this tranquil bubble of time, satoru is as free as a dove outside of its silver cage.

he reaches over, pulling you in by the sleeve of your night shirt and pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of your lips. it happens in the blink of an eye; a moment of impulse, where for once, he allows himself to breathe; to let down the walls he literally holds up around him, to let his fingers curl into the fabric of your clothes and breathe in your scent, taste the heat on your skin and the buttery sweet crumbs dotting the curve of your lips; the dips in the corners of your mouth that make you always look so pretty when you smile.

when he pulls away, he refuses to meet your gaze, instead staring down at the only remaining clue of the tart in his palm— a single, rotten blueberry, squishy and soft. the silence rings in his ear as his face becomes hot.

“what was that for?” you ask quietly, staring angrily— in embarrassment, into nothing.

“there were crumbs on your mouth,” he explains.

nothing more, nothing less.

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[random-thot-generator]

Reverse Trope Prompt: (see end notes after reading. No peeking!)

Full list here

Ghost x reader

sfw -bit of angst, profanity, a frisky drunk bird but nothing explicit

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

"Looks like LT's pulled 'imself another winner."

Gaz glances over his shoulder, sniffs, then turns back with a cynical curl to his lip. Lifting his pint glass, he slants a knowing look at his fellow sergeant. "He's lost the bloody plot, if ya ask me. Hooks up with every bird he gets his hands on, now." He shakes his head. "'S bloody mental, mate. What the hell is he thinkin'?"

Soap grunts, mouth twisting in disgust as he focuses on his lieutenant and the cackling drunk bird splayed across his lap. "Canna say. Dinnae ken wha's gotten into 'im. Feckin' mad, lettin' a bonnie, good lass go t'chase after sloppy-drunk tarts like tha' one."

"You lads ready for another round?"

Both men flinch at the sound of your voice and glance up at you with guilty expressions. They know you had to have heard what they were saying. Gaz drops his gaze as he nods and pushes his glass across the bar, while Soap tilts his head to study you. You meet his searching blue eyes while you refill Gaz's pint, knowing what's coming. You breathe out a tired sigh.

"What's the matter, Johnny?"

His brows pinch together in a perturbed frown. "Does it no' bother yeh, 'im flauntin' those mingin' slags right in yer face?"

"Jesus, Soap!" Gaz hisses, elbowing him. "Shut ya bloody gob." He then turns his attention back to you, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry, luv. He's got no filter when he drinks too much."

"Oi! I dinnae need yeh t'make excuses fer meh," Soap fusses, still scowling when he looks back to you. "'M sorry, hen. Dinnae mean t'upset yeh. Jus' think it's no' right, 'im scrapin' yeh off the way 'e did, then comin' in 'ere where yeh work, messin' about with other birds, like 'e does. 'S disrespectful."

Your eyes drift to Ghost, grimacing at the way the woman in his lap is pawing at him, before dropping your eyes to glare at the bar top. "It doesn't matter," you mutter, wiping down the bar with more force than is necessary. "We're over, so he can do what he wants with whoever he wants. I think him breaking things off between us was probably for the best, don't you?"

The two sergeants exchange a look.

Soap huffs and slumps on his bar stool, mumbling into his pint, "Yeh're too good fer 'im, anyway." He knocks the last of his stout back with an angry sneer.

Gaz nods in agreement, his eyes sympathetic when he adds, "Ya can do better, luv. Deserve someone who'll treat ya right."

You try to smile, but it's fake, brittle. "Seriously, it's alright. I'm over it. Really."

You can tell that neither of them believes you.

Your call for last orders goes out a few minutes later, and the few customers left in the pub begin to drift towards the door. Gaz and Soap are settling up their tabs when Ghost steps up behind them, the giggling drunk bird tucked under his arm. His dark eyes slide over you, like you're not even there.

"'M headin' out, lads. I'll see the two'uh ya back at base. Gonna take 'er 'ome," he tells the sergeants, nodding down at the bleary-eyed bird glued to his side.

Gaz give a curt nod, avoiding eye contact. Soap makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. "Aye. Jus' keep rubbin' 'er nose in it," he mutters, then sniffs, shaking his head. "Steamin' Jaysus."

Ghost tenses, eyes narrowing over his face mask. "Ya gotta problem, sergeant?"

Just as Soap's mouth opens to reply, you clear your throat, breaking the tense moment. "How 'bout a bag of crisps to soak up all that alcohol, Johnny? My treat."

His head swivels around to look at you, the scowl slowly melting off his face when he sees your worried expression. He blows out a breath. "Aye. Thanks, bon." He side-eyes Ghost, then looks away. "See ya later, LT," he mumbles.

The drunk bird makes a whining noise, tugging at Ghost's jacket. "C'mon, luv. Leh's gooo. 'M ready t'get home." She then gives him a drunken, lewd grin, pressing up against him. "Ya can help me get these tights off, yeah?" she whispers to him, waggling her eyebrows.

Ghost grunts a laugh, seemingly amused. "Cheeky muppet. Olright. Let's get outta here."

You busy yourself with wiping down the bar as Ghost leads the tottering woman out the door, then toss your towel down once he's gone. Snagging two bags of crisps for the sergeants, you hand one to each of them.

"Here ya go," you murmur. "Need me to call a taxi for ya?"

"No thanks, luv," Gaz replies softly, sliding off his stool. "I already ordered us an Uber. Let's go, Soap."

Soap stands, his crisps clutched in his hand. He's scowling, shaking his head. "'E's a bloody eejit," he mutters.

You finally wave goodbye to the two sergeants, locking up behind them once you usher them out the door. Blowing out a tired breath, you lean back against it and stare down at your trainers.

"God, I'm glad this night is over," you mumble to yourself, then heave another sigh before heading back to the bar, ready to close up for the night and get out of there.

The drive home is short, just a couple blocks away, but it still gives you too much time to think. This is by far the worst break-up you've ever been through. None of your work mates or friends can seem to go a day without mentioning it. Even worse, Simon's mates won't let it go, either.

You appreciate their support, but seriously wish that Soap and Gaz would stop bringing Simon up, altogether. It's hard enough watching the big lug flirting with birds right under your nose. You don't need Soap pointing it out to you, or Gaz giving you those sad, pitying looks all night.

You try to shake off your negative thoughts as you park and walk to your flat. It's sweet that the lads are trying to be there for you, but you hope that they'll just let it go soon. Maybe you should just tell them you're seeing someone else. It might help put their minds at ease, get them to back off a little bit.

Once inside your flat, you toe off your trainers and turn on the lights, then pad into the kitchen. Putting some leftovers in the microwave, you shuffle off to take a quick shower while it's heating, hoping the hot water will soothe away some of your stress.

As you're toweling off, you hear your front door open and then close. Hurrying to get dressed, you open the bathroom door, the smell of yesterday's shepherd's pie hitting your nose. You hear the clatter of plates and utensils coming from the kitchen as you pace down the short hallway and peek around the corner. You stop when you reach the doorway, leaning your shoulder against the jamb and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Took you awhile to get here. Thought you might've decided to stay the night with that bird, after all."

Simon sets the leftover shepherd's pie he just took out of the microwave on the table, smirking. Tossing down the potholders, he comes to you, his big arms wrapping around your body to pull you close before his head dips to give you a kiss.

"Took forever t'get 'er outta the bloody truck an' into 'er flat. 'Ad t'fight 'er off'uh me the whole way there, too, the handsy git." He rumbles out a low chuckle. "She was right pissed when I left without helpin' 'er outta those tights."

You huff, cutting him a snarky look. "Yeah, I bet." You frown, sliding your hands down his chest. "I wish we didn't have to do this, Si. I don't like seeing other women all over my man, and I hate lying to everyone, especially Johnny and Kyle."

He sighs, lifting a hand to cradle your face. "I know, sweet'art, but it won't be f'much longer. Cap says Nik's almost got all of our documents an' passports in order. When it's time, we'll loop Gaz an' Johnny in. My next mission out, Ghost will be reported KIA, an' once he's laid t'rest, it'll finally be over. No more sneakin' around, no more lyin'. We'll 'ave new identities, a new life." He hugs you tighter. "An' I can finally provide my missus wiff a proper 'ome."

"Si..."

His eyes go lazy and warm as he slides his hand down to cover your belly. "Gotta 'ave a proper 'ome, love. 'S why we're doin' this. Wanna be free an' clear a'fore the li'l nipper gets 'ere. Yeah?"

You gaze up into your husband's eyes, a hopeful smile spreading across your face. You plant a kiss on his smirking lips and nod.

"Yeah."

-

End notes - *shrugs* I didn't want to spoil the ending. 😉

reverse trope: Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

[lilstarkeydream]

Hidden Flames- Chapter 2

Summary: Y/N, a Kook who prefers the company of her Pogue friends, slowly falls for Rafe Cameron. Despite their growing feelings, they maintain a facade of hatred due to their conflicting social circles and personal insecurities. Y/N is best friends with Sarah, Rafe's sister, which fuels Rafe's hidden affection. He despises how Y/N hangs out with the Pogues, believing she has more potential, while Y/N can't stand Rafe's for fights and stuck up nature. After a dramatic confrontation, they confess their feelings but must keep their relationship secret, with only Sarah and Topper in the know.

Warnings: 18+ only! Fluff, Slight Angst?, Adult language, Slight Substance use

Authors note: Hey guys! I hope you like this... I'm sorry its so long and Im sorry if theres slight writing mistakes, I just kind of wanted to get it all finished :')

9.6k words

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

The sunlight filtered through the gaps in the heavy curtains, casting slivers of light across the room. You blinked awake, your head pounding from the aftermath of last night's alcohol-fueled decisions. 

Desperately needing a Tylenol to ease the pain, you struggled to piece together the fragmented memories of the previous night. As your eyes adjusted to the brightness, you recognized the room – it was Rafe's. The events of the last night came flooding back, causing a mix of emotions to swirl in your chest: the party, the fight, the kiss.

As anxiety began to build, you turned your head and saw Rafe, still asleep beside you. His face, usually set in a smirk or scowl, was relaxed, almost peaceful. You took a moment to take in all his features, his chest still bare from last night’s activities. The sight of him like this, vulnerable and serene, was disarming. You carefully slipped out of bed, trying not to wake him. You grabbed a discarded piece of clothing across the floor to cover your chest – it was Rafe’s shirt from last night, oversized on you. Grabbing your phone, you tiptoed to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect your thoughts.

Your phone was lit up with missed notifications from the Pogues and Sarah. The half-assed lie you texted them last night, a futile attempt to assure them you were okay, now seemed laughably mediocre. The worry you had caused them only added to the weight of your guilt. In the harsh bathroom light, you examined your reflection. Your hair was slightly messy, and your cheeks were flushed. But there was something else you couldn’t quite put into words – a newfound intensity in your eyes, a hint of confusion and vulnerability.

You splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the remnants of last night. Not knowing how to feel, you reflected on the fact that you slept with someone you swore you hated, better yet your best friend’s brother, and worse than that, your friend’s least favorite person ever. The most confusing part was that you didn’t feel regret; the feelings you felt last night were indescribable. He made you feel a way you’ve never felt before. None of your previous boyfriends ever made you feel that way. Your only long-term boyfriend, Chris, loved you of course but he never once looked at you like Rafe did.

You thought Chris was your high school sweetheart, the kind of guy who seemed perfect on paper. He was always polite, and well-mannered, never got into trouble, and had a bright future ahead of him. Basically, he was the kind of guy parents adored and it was true your parents loved him. They still ask you how he is doing- hell do you know?

At the beginning of your relationship together, Chris’s predictability and dependability felt like exactly what you needed. He was kind and reliable and provided a sense of balance in your life. However as your time went on, that same predictability began to feel stale. His calmness started to make you feel emotionally isolated, causing distance between you. His steadiness felt more like stagnation. 

Despite the good qualities you saw in him, Chris never made your heart race or feel special; you wanted him to look at you like you were the only girl in the world. But he rarely looked at you with passion or desire. It always felt like something was missing. His love was nice, but there were moments when you craved more—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on—until your kiss with Rafe.

You tried to talk to Chris about your feelings, hoping he would understand. But every conversation seemed to hit a wall. Chris would insist that everything was fine and that you were overthinking things. He was blindsided, and you felt stuck; his lackluster effort to address your concerns only intensified your frustration. You wanted him to fight for you, to show some sign that he was willing to put in the effort to make things work, but he remained passive.

Long story short, you ended up breaking up with him one day after school, telling him you didn’t love him anymore and couldn’t keep doing it. The look of hurt and confusion on his face was something you would never forget. You haven’t spoken to him since, hoping you’d never have to again.

Rafe looked at you last night in a way that made you feel truly seen like you were the only person in the room. His gaze held a depth of emotion and desire that Chris’s never did, making you feel alive in ways you never thought possible. Rafe made your heart race and your pulse quicken. His presence was intoxicating, drawing you in despite all the reasons you had to stay away. Every touch, every whispered word, felt charged with a passion that was both thrilling and terrifying. In the few hours you spent with Rafe, you experienced highs and lows that Chris’s steady demeanor never brought. It was messy and complicated, but it also felt real.

Though you knew Rafe came with his own set of dangers and complications, you couldn't deny the way he made you feel. Rafe gave you a sense of excitement and passion that you had been missing. The way Rafe looked at you, with a mixture of longing and intensity, was something Chris never did.

After borrowing some mouthwash and quickly splashing some more water on your face, you made your way back out.

As you returned to the bed, your slight indent in the bed made Rafe stir. Seeing him slightly open up his eyes giving you a sleepy smile. You offered him a warm smile back, getting back into bed Rafe instinctively pulled you up to his chest, resting your cheek on his warm skin. Everything still seemed so perfect, but knowing you had to face your friends today, your guilt only grew

Rafe was the first to break the peaceful silence. "Good morning, you look beautiful," he murmured. You looked up at the sound of his voice, locking eyes with him. There was a secure feeling in his gaze, yet a flutter of nervousness stirred within you.

“Good morning” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, a smile tugging on your lips.

An awkward silence followed as you both struggled to find the right words, knowing that the events of last night needed to be addressed. Your heart raced, anticipation and uncertainty mingling in the air.

"About last night," he started, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. The morning light streamed through the window, casting a soft glow on his features. He looked a bit disheveled, his hair tousled and also dealing with a massive hangover headache. "I'm sorry if things got...awkward."

You shook your head, feeling the warmth of the sunlight on your skin. "It wasn't awkward, Rafe, just... very unexpected. I need some time to process it all." The room was quiet, the only sound was the gentle rustling of leaves outside the window. You could feel your heart still beating a little faster than normal.

Rafe nodded, looking relieved yet apprehensive. He glanced around the room, his eyes briefly resting on the discarded clothes on the floors and the morning light spilling onto the floor. "I get that. Just...what does this mean for us? For you and me?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant as if he was afraid of your answer.

You looked down at your hands, avoiding his gaze. "I don't know, Rafe. I really don't know. Everything is so confusing right now."

His face fell slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper, and you could sense the tension building between you. "I just need to know if you regret it. If you regret being with me." You could feel his vulnerability in that moment, you were used to him being the most confident man on the island but here he was, seeking your validation- reminding you he is only human.

You met his eyes, the intensity in your gaze matching his. "I don't regret it, Rafe. But that doesn't mean I know what to do next." You weren’t lying, you had the best night of your life, you only remembered some of it but the way he made you feel, the way he touched you, the way he held you, was a feeling you never wanted to let go of.

Rafe sighed, the tension in the room palpable, his brows furrowed in confusion, it was obvious he wanted a straightforward solution to something so complex. "So, what? We just go back to pretending nothing happened?"

You shook your head, feeling the weight of his words, slowly rubbing your hands on his chest trying to get him to calm down. "No, I just... I need to clear my head. Please understand."

Rafe looked down, his frustration evident but tempered by understanding. "I want to understand. I do. Just...don't shut me out, okay?" He gave you a pleading look, knowing the vulnerable side he gave you last night, something no one else had seen before. 

“Rafe it was just a lot that happened ok, even you can’t deny that. You fought with me and my friends at the party, you ran after me on the beach and kissed me, and then I came over to your house and we ended up sleeping together.” You sighed in defeat, letting your hands drop from his chest, pushing yourself off, almost making your way off the bed.

The vulnerability in your voice seemed to soften him. He reached out and took your hand trying to pull you back towards him, his touch gentle. "We'll figure it out, okay? Together."

You nodded, appreciating his attempt to reassure you but still feeling the weight of uncertainty. "I have to go. My mom needs me back before noon," you lied, needing an excuse to get away and clear your head.

Rafe sensed your uncertainty and urgency in your response but knew it was probably best not to push this too far. "Okay," he said softly in defeat, letting go of your hand. "Here, let me put my phone number in your phone, in case you need anything."

You handed him your phone, and he quickly entered his number and texted him. As he finished, you started putting on your clothes from the night before. The awkwardness of dressing in silence was palpable, but neither of you knew what to say. You felt his eyes on you, not daring to look over. 

Rafe walked you to the front door, both of you trying to hold onto the brief sense of normalcy. "Take care," he said, his voice tinged with concern. "And don't hesitate to call or text, okay?"

You nodded, forcing a small smile, even though all you wanted to do was cry, scared you made everything awkward" I will. Thanks, Rafe." 

With that, you walked to your car, still parked where you left it the night before. The drive home was filled with a mix of relief and confusion. You swiftly got out of your car, making your way into your house and upstairs, without raising any suspicion from your parents. The last thing you want is your parents questioning your whereabouts last night.

Your room was the same way you left it on Friday afternoon. Your neatly made bed, your overflowing laundry basket, your makeup scattered across your desk; everything untouched. 

You quickly got refreshed, taking a warm shower and letting the water wash away the undeniable bubble of emotions you were feeling after leaving Rafe's house. You felt like everything happened so fast, not knowing what to make of your new feelings towards him and not knowing if it was right. Everything seemed so confusing, you know you couldn’t avoid Rafe and you’d run into him eventually. You just needed time to sort out your thoughts, to convince yourself that seeing him again doesn’t make you a terrible friend. Seeing him again meant you’d be forgetting about all your previous resentment towards him, it meant putting to the side your friend’s absolute hatred towards him. You couldn’t deny how he made you feel and the different side of him you saw, you craved to see that side again- his smile, him holding you, him whispering in your ear. Your mind only wandered to the possibilities of what other sides of Rafe you haven’t seen. There was so much you didn’t know and it only made the pit in your stomach grow. 

After dressing in fresh clothes and a swimsuit, you made your way to the Chateau, remembering your promise to go boating with the Pogues that afternoon. The weight of the morning’s events still lingered, but you hoped the distraction of the day would help clear your mind.

—

After a quick drive, you arrive at the Chateau, basically another one of your second homes where you spend a lot of your time. Sometimes spending the nights when you just couldn’t be around your nagging parents, or when you were too drunk or high to even think about driving. 

You jumped out of your Jeep, and made your way into the chateau, already being able to hear your friend's stupid laughter and JJ’s stupid jokes. Knowing that as soon as you walked in, the atmosphere would change and questions would arise.

As you slowly opened the door they all looked up from each other at the squeaking door, their eyes landing on you now in complete silence, knowing that questions would soon follow.

Kiara was the first to break the silence, instantly coming and giving you a bear hug followed by JJ giving you a big hug and saying “Y/N Holy shit, we thought you died, we got your text last night but something seemed off. Are you doing ok?” John B and Pope joined in the hug.

Your gut instantly fell, knowing that was going to be one of the first questions they asked, so you sucked up your breath and again lied, “Yep I’m doing ok, just still really shaken up from that fight you know. Just need to clear my head. But I missed you guys, I’m sorry I left the way I did.” 

All of them were relieved and content with your answer and released you from the tight hug. Letting you take in a nice deep breath. Finally taking into vision both JJ’s and John B’s bruised cheeks and eyes. Your hands instinctively go up to caress their face, worrying filling your eyes. Your best friends have bruises because of you- well not you specifically but you felt responsible.

JJ winced back as the cut on his cheek hurt when your hand brushed over it, “Y/N, it’s not as bad as it looks, I’m okay. We’d do it again in a heartbeat”.

You felt instant guilt, they stood up for you yet you slept with the guy who did this to them. All you could muster up to say was “Thank you guys for helping me in that fight last night, you didn’t have to do that."

John B gave you a loving look, “Y/N of course we did, that bitch Rafe Cameron had it coming. He’s constantly on your ass. We tried our best to put him in his place.”

Your eyes fell, hiding behind the actions of last night, “I truly love you guys, thank you. I’m sorry again for just leaving. My mind was racing.”

Pope was the next to chime in, offering you his sympathetic tone, “Don’t even worry about it ok Y/N, plus we totally beat the shit out of those Kooks. I’m sorry you have to deal with those assholes.” Causing you to chuckle at his response, already lighting the mood. 

“Alright guys, no more moping about those asshole Kooks, we got a boat to catch and some tanning to do,” Kie said with an uneasy attitude throwing her hands in the air, trying to make sure our pity party doesn’t last until the sun goes down.

“You’re damn right Kie,” you say, pulling her into a side hug.

The group headed out to the pier, the sun casting a golden glow on the water. JJ walked beside you, nudging you playfully. 

“You know, Y/N, if you ever need a distraction from all the Kook drama, I’m always available,” he teased, winking.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “JJ, you’re always flirting. We both know you’re just looking for an excuse to show off your abs.”

He laughed, flexing exaggeratedly. “Guilty as charged. But seriously, you okay?”

You nodded, appreciating his concern. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind.”

As you approached the boat, John B. and Pope were already getting things ready. “Hey, Y/N,” Pope called out, “you seeing anyone lately? We noticed you’ve been kinda distant.”

Your stomach tightened at the question. “No, not really. Just dealing with some stuff. You know my parents are always on my ass.” You gave a half chuckle, a dead giveaway you were lying. 

Kiara gave you a knowing look. “Is it because of how Rafe treats you? Why do you still hang out with his sister if he’s such an asshole?”

You sighed, the weight of their concern pressing on you. “Sarah’s my friend Kie. I just can't. It’s complicated. But yeah, Rafe’s been... difficult.” It was much more than difficult, it was complicated now since you

slept with the man. 

JJ pulled out a blunt, lighting it up. “Here, this will help you relax.” putting it up to his mouth to take a drag before he continued, “Y/N it’s simple, just don’t let that dick make you feel like that.” You chuckled at his lackluster response, grabbing the blunt from him.

You took a hit, feeling the tension ease away slightly. “Thanks, JJ. I needed that.”

The boat ride was also just what you needed. The Pogues' laughter and banter filled the air, the sun warmed your skin, and for a while, the worries of the morning melted away. JJ made more flirty comments, which you brushed off with ease, knowing it was just part of your normal dynamic. The boat sped across the water, wind in your hair, and you felt a sense of freedom you hadn’t felt all day.

You all took turns diving into the water, the cool waves washing away the last remnants of tension. When you climbed back onto the boat, the sun was still still beating down on you, casting a beautiful golden hue over everything. You lay back on the deck, closing your eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun and the companionship of your friends.

JJ lay down next to you, his hand brushing against yours. “You know, if you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here. We all are.”

You turned your head to look at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “Thanks, JJ. That means a lot.”

The day ended with everyone lounging on the boat, the last rays of sunlight disappearing over the horizon. As the boat made its way back to the pier, you felt a sense of calm. You knew you had to deal with your feelings for Rafe eventually, but for now, you had your friends, and that was enough.

—

You docked the boat late afternoon, the golden hues of the sunset arrest casting a serene glow over the water. The calmness of the moment was enhanced by the Pogues' laughter and light-hearted teasing. You felt so calm with them, completely carefree; living for all their antics.

“Thanks for an awesome boat day, guys. You have no idea how much I needed this,” you said, feeling your nerves settle into a peaceful calm.

“Anytime, Y/N,” John B replied with a grin. “We’ve always got your back. Pogues for life remember”

You mirrored his grin, “Pogues for life”

Back at the Chateau, everyone gathered in the living room, munching on leftover pizza and catching up on each other's lives. Pope was anxious about his upcoming interview for a prestigious scholarship, sharing his worries with the group. It was always safe to say that Pope was the brains in the group. John B on the other hand, still living alone since his dad's disappearance ten months ago, talked about how he thought his dad was still out there and picking up on his research where he left off, as well as getting threatened multiple times to get thrown into foster care. 

Kiara described her latest environmental conservation project, everyone playfully rolling their eyes, and she mentioned the numerous shifts she had to pick up at her father's restaurant. Her dad was similar to your parents, hated the Pogues- thinking they were bad influences- as well as being super hard on Kie. 

JJ told us he had landed a new job at Pelican’s Nest, an up-tight Kook club where he waited tables and tried to avoid getting into fights with all the Kooks. As he spoke, you could sense his underlying frustration with the job, though he tried to play it off with his usual toughness.

The conversation and familiar banter between you and your friends provided a much-needed distraction from the pressure you were feeling inside. When they asked what was new in your life, you managed a casual response, explaining that you were stressed about the upcoming 

Midsummer's event, the big Kook gathering of the year. You mentioned the annoyance and pressure of picking out a dress your parents put on you, all while pretending to enjoy yourself. You managed to keep your real concerns to yourself, not giving them away from any body language, knowing they'd flip out if they knew what happened with Rafe.

You checked your phone and saw missed texts from Sarah, asking how you were doing and how you were feeling after the party. Your heart quickened at seeing her text, somehow thinking if she already knew- maybe Rafe told Topper and Topper told her. God, you hope not. You quickly texted her back, saying, “Hey, I’m okay. Can you come over to my place in a bit? We need to talk.” She quickly texted you back telling you she’d be there soon. You knew this text would cause her to worry about you.

You turned to the Pogues, smiling despite the turmoil still lingering beneath the surface. “I’ve got to head home. My mom needs me back before dinner,” you lied, not ready to admit the real reason you needed to leave. “But I’ll be back tomorrow for some more shenanigans. I promise, okay. No random ghosting” All of them signed at this comment, but knowing how controlling your parents could be, always made the perfect excuse.

“Alright, don’t keep us waiting too long,” JJ said with a wink. You rolled your eyes, at his flirty gesture. JJ’s carefree attitude was something you always loved about him. He can be erratic and quick-tempered but would always take a bullet for his friends.

You said your goodbyes, hugging each of them tightly, promising not to ghost them again. JJ and Kie walked you out to your car reminding you again that they were there if you needed anything. 

The drive home was filled with mixed emotions. You were grateful for the distraction but knew you had to face what happened with Rafe. You debated multiple times today if you should text him, but you were so lost on what to say. 

Pulling into your driveway, you saw Sarah’s car already parked there. Guilt starting to eat at your stomach, knowing there was no turning back from telling her. How is your best friend going to react to your sleeping with her older brother? How would that make your conversation on Friday before the party sound, you previously vented to her about how Rafe only makes you feel bad but somehow at the party all of this changed. The complete situation was too much. 

She met you at your front door, her face etched with concern. “What’s going on, Y/N?”

You led her inside, to the privacy of your room, the place where you always felt safest. “Sarah, I need to tell you something about last night.”

Her eyes widened slightly, a mix of curiosity and worry. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak. “I... I slept with Rafe.” You began burying your face in your pillows, not daring to see your best friend’s reaction.

Sarah’s expression shifted to one of shock and anger. “What? How the hell did that happen Y/N? Jesus Christ you slept with my fucking brother. After everything he’s done?”

“I know, I know, I know Sarah,” you said quickly, tears welling up in your eyes, on the verge of a panic attack. “It just happened. I don’t know how to explain it. It was unexpected, and I’m so confused about Sarah. It just happened” you began sobbing into your pillow, “I don’t know what to do Sarah” your voice slightly muffled

Sarah’s anger softened into understanding as she saw the distress on your face. She took a deep breath, calming herself, reaching her hand out to comfort you, “Okay, tell me everything.”

You recounted the events of the night, from the fight to the kiss to waking up in his bed. Sarah listened intently, her initial anger giving way to concern and empathy but confusion still evident on her face.

“I’m mad, Y/N, but I also get it. Rafe can be... different sometimes. I’ve seen it. But you have to be careful. He’s not exactly the safest bet.” 

You nodded, relief washing over you as she spoke, not completely tearing you to shreds. “I know, and I’m not sure what to do next. But I couldn’t keep it from you and I just can’t tell the pogues for obvious reasons.”

Sarah hugged you tightly. “You both will figure it out, ok? It’ll stay between me and you. Just promise me you’ll be careful, Rafe can be unpredictable and the last thing I want is you getting hurt”

“I promise,” you whispered, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Sarah sighed, pulling away slightly. “You know, I’ve noticed how he looks at you sometimes. It’s like he’s trying to figure something out, or maybe he’s just... drawn to you. It’s weird.”

You looked up from your tear-filled eyes, surprised. “You’ve noticed that?”

She nodded, smiling, “Yeah. It’s subtle, but it’s there. I always thought it was just him being his usual creepy self, but now...”

“But now?” you prompted.

She sighed again. “Now I’m not so sure. Look, this needs to stay between us, okay? Rafe’s got a lot of issues, and again I don’t want to see you get hurt. But if you think there’s something worth exploring, and if he makes you happy... I guess that’s what matters.”

You hugged her again, feeling a mixture of relief and trepidation. “Thanks, Sarah. I really needed to hear that.”

After a bit more talking, Sarah glanced at her phone, rolling her eyes at a text message she got. “I promised Topper I’d go to this house party with him. Are you going to be okay?”

You laughed and then sighed while rolling your eyes, knowing you’d be alone with your thoughts again, but understanding. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Topper would hate it if you weren’t there.”

You walked her out to her car, and she gave you one last, serious look., “Y/N” she paused and then continued, “Just... be careful with Rafe, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt and if he hurts you I'll beat his ass I swear to god.”

“I will,” you promised full honesty in your chest. You didn't want to get hurt either.

As Sarah’s car disappeared down the street, you took a moment to breathe in the evening air, feeling a mix of relief and lingering anxiety. You hadn't been sure how Sarah would react to the news of you and Rafe, and her initial shock and anger had been expected. But It had gone better than expected, and for that, you were grateful. You knew it wasn’t easy for her to hear about her brother, especially given Rafe’s reputation and the history between your groups. Sarah’s words echoed in your mind: “Just be careful.” You knew she was right. The fact that she was willing to support you gave you a breath of fresh air.

—

Back inside, you took another shower to wash off the day. Putting on your favorite pajamas and grabbing your favorite snacks from your kitchen, you settled back on your bed, grabbed your TV remote, and settled with a rom-com, hoping it would distract you. Romcoms were usually a comfort item for you, but your mind kept drifting back to Rafe, and the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. Seeing the characters kiss and go on romantic dates only confused your mind, wondering if that could be you and Rafe.

It annoyed you how he was suddenly taking up so much space in your thoughts. You had always thought he was attractive ever since you’d known Sarah, but he was her off-limit older brother. It felt like such a forbidden crush, one you never allowed yourself to fully acknowledge or entertain because of how he acted.

Your mind wandered back to an older memory from a couple of summers ago. You and Sarah were at her pool, lounging and chatting about the latest drama at school. The sun was blazing, the water shimmering invitingly, and everything felt easy and carefree. That was until Rafe walked out with his friends, Topper and Kelce. They were loud and obnoxious as always, but your eyes were immediately drawn to Rafe. He was shirtless, and his toned, athletic body caught your breath for a moment. You swear you have never seen a man look so good.

But then, as if to remind you exactly why you kept your distance, he made one of his usual snarky comments. “Nice swimsuit, Y/N. Too bad that’s the only nice thing about you.” The words stung, and the momentary attraction you felt turned into irritation and anger. He had this way of ruining things with his cutting remarks, making sure you never got too close.

You remembered how Sarah had rolled her eyes and muttered an apology on his behalf, but the damage was done. The butterflies you felt were squashed under the weight of his arrogance. It was moments like those that solidified your belief that nothing could ever happen between you two.  He was a jerk, plain and simple, and any attraction you felt was overshadowed by his cruel behavior.

Yet now, as you lay in bed, those memories mixed with the recent, softer moments you’d shared with him. It was confusing to reconcile the Rafe who had hurt you with words and the Rafe who had held you tenderly, whispering sweet things in your ear. It felt like he was two different people, and you didn’t know which version was real.

As you tried to focus on the movie, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if things were different. If he wasn’t Sarah’s brother, if he wasn’t such an asshole sometimes, could there be something real between you?

The conflicting emotions swirled inside you, making it hard to focus on anything else. You sighed, frustrated with yourself for even entertaining the idea. But no matter how much you tried to push the thoughts away, they kept coming back, stronger and more persistent.

You had always been careful to keep your feelings in check, to not let your crush on Rafe become anything more. But now, after everything that had happened, it was getting harder and harder to deny. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, it all felt so different, so real.

With a groan, you turned off the TV, unable to concentrate on the movie any longer. The rom-com only makes you more frustrated, no longer an escape. You lay back on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of your tangled emotions. You knew you had to talk to Rafe, to figure out what this all meant. But the thought of confronting him, of possibly getting hurt again, made your heart race with anxiety.

Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe you did need to be careful. But you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards Rafe, no matter how much you tried. It was confusing and scary, but you knew you had to face it, to see where it might lead. Maybe that's why you pushed him away this morning, you were scared of getting hurt deep down, even though the boy was confessing his heart out. Your cat, Butters, a fluffy orange tabby with big green eyes, jumped up on your bed, sensing your distress. He purred close to you, his warm body a comforting presence against your side. Butters always seemed to know when you needed him the most, his purring a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

Your eyes started to feel heavy, and the magnitude of the day started to weigh on you. As you lay there, you could feel your body relaxing, the tension slowly melting away. Your thoughts began to blur and fade, replaced by a serene drowsiness. With Butters nestled beside you, his purring like a gentle, reassuring heartbeat, you allowed yourself to sink into the embrace of sleep. Your eyelids fluttered shut, and you let out a final, contented sigh. The last thing you remembered was the comforting warmth of Butters and the gentle glow of the salt lamp before you drifted off into a deep, peaceful slumber.

—

A bit later in the night, you heard taps on your window, stirring you out of your sleep. Butters also perked up in defense. Your heart raced as you got up to investigate, knowing it was probably not smart or safe for you to. Pulling back the curtain, you saw Rafe standing there, his soft features illuminated by the streetlight in front of your house. You quickly opened the window, anger and confusion bubbling up at his reckless actions.

You whisper-yelled at him, not daring to wake your parents, “What the fuck are you doing here, Rafe? And why are you tapping on my window like a total creep? My parents could’ve called the police on you!”

“I needed to see you,” he said, his voice earnest. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night.”

You rolled your eyes at him, secretly excited to see him, moving over so he could climb in through your window.

You stared at him, your emotions in turmoil. “You can’t just show up here like this, Rafe. You should’ve texted me. What do you even want?”

As Rafe climbed through your window, making a slight thump as he made his way in, he stood in your room looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. The moonlight streaming through the window cast a soft glow on his face, highlighting the uncertainty in his eyes and the slight tremor in his hands.

“I don’t know, okay? I just... I can’t stop thinking about you.” he confessed, his voice raw and filled with a mixture of confusion and determination. His eyes, usually so guarded, now revealed a depth of feeling that he rarely allowed anyone to see. There was a certain restlessness in his stance, a fidgeting with his hands that betrayed his inner turmoil.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you had noticed he did when he was unsure of himself. His breathing was slightly uneven as if the weight of his feelings was almost too much to bear. It was clear that he had been wrestling with these emotions for a while, trying to make sense of them and find the courage to express them to you.

Rafe took a hesitant step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I know this is complicated, and it’s risky... but I don’t care. I just want to be with you, even if it means sneaking around and keeping it a secret.”

You took a step back, trying to process his words, actively stressing over the fact that he showed up at your house. “Rafe, this is crazy. You hated me less than two days ago, and now you’re crawling through my window.”

He stared at you, at a loss for words. He knew the change in his behavior was a lot for you to process, but he was determined to show you a different side of him.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked into his eyes, feeling the pull between you. “Rafe, this is complicated. I don’t know if I can do this.”

He reached out, gently cupping your face. “I know it’s complicated. But I don’t care. I want to figure this out with you.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “But what about everyone else? The Pogues, your family, my friends… they’re all going to freak out if they find out about this. They’ll never understand.”

You looked down, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “I’m scared, Rafe. I’m scared of getting hurt, of hurting others. What if this doesn’t work out? What if we’re just fooling ourselves?”

He lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, wiping the tears that escaped from your eyes. “I get it. I’m scared too. But I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I’m tapping on your window in the middle of the night, Y/N, goddamnit.” He paused, lowering his voice to make sure his words came out correctly. “When I’m with you, it’s different, Y/N. I feel things I’ve never felt before.”

You felt a wave of emotions crash over you, the fear, excitement, and hope all mingling together. “I just… I need to know that you’re serious about this. About us.”

Before Rafe could respond, you both heard footsteps approaching your room. Panic surged through you as you quickly gestured for Rafe to hide in your closet. He barely managed to conceal himself before your mom knocked on the door, opening the door to you sitting on the edge of the bed, your face flush.

“Y/N, is everything okay in there?” she asked, her voice filled with concern. “I heard some noise.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. Cursing yourself that you didn’t lock your door, “Yeah, Mom, everything’s fine. I just had a weird dream and Butters knocked something over. Sorry if I woke you and Dad up”

Your mom hesitated for a moment, scanning around your room for any sign of trouble.  Her eyes landed on the open window, raising an eyebrow. “Why is your window open?” Your heart dropped, remembering you left it open.

You quickly responded, smiling, “It was just hot in here, and Butters likes to sit by the window. I’ll close it now.”

She gave you a disapproving look. “You shouldn’t leave the window open at night, Y/N. It’s not safe. Get some rest, honey, you have to go dress shopping tomorrow. Love you lots.”

“Yup, thanks, Mom. I love you too, Goodnight,” you said, waiting until her footsteps retreated down the hallway before letting out a sigh of relief. 

Rafe emerged from the closet, a sheepish grin on his face. “That was close.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension momentarily easing. “Yeah, it was. My mom is like a hawk sometimes, she has crazy hearing.”

Rafe chuckled again before his expression turned more serious as he stepped closer to you. “Look, I know this is a lot. And I know I’ve been a jerk in the past, and I will always be sorry for that, I can’t take back that hurt. But I’m serious about this, Y/N. I want to try, even if it’s complicated.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity. “Okay. But we need to take this slow, Rafe. We need to figure things out together, and we can’t let anyone else know for now.”

Rafe nodded in understanding. “I get it. Let’s not talk here though, in case we wake your parents. I know a place we can go.” You hesitated, not sure if you should sneak out.

“Okay,” you said, surprising yourself with how simply you agreed. He had a presence about him that just made you feel so comfortable.

You told him you just needed to change really quickly. Slipping into your bathroom, you opted for simple leggings and a t-shirt, quickly putting on some mascara, letting down your hair, and spraying on your favorite perfume. When you exited the bathroom, he was sitting on your bed, Butters cuddled up by his side, melting your heart. You were surprised Butters accepted him so fast; usually, she didn’t like many people. Maybe it was a sign.

When he heard you shut the bathroom door, he looked up at you, a small smile forming on his face as he took in your beauty. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you looked down sheepishly, telling him you were ready to go.

You both sneakily and quietly crept out your window, him helping you a little bit by grabbing your hand, causing your heart to skip at his warm touch. You made sure to leave your window open just a little bit for when you snuck back in. You had to be careful; some parts of the sides of your house lit up due to motion light cameras. You also had very noisy

neighbors who loved to gossip with your mom daily, you would never hear the end of it if she caught what you were up to. 

Once past all the obnoxious obstacles, you made your way to Rafe's truck, which was parked just a little bit down the street. You were happy it was dark out, concealing the identity of both you and Rafe, just in case of any prying eyes.

Rafe once again opened the passenger door for you, waiting for you to get in before gently shutting it. Your heart warmed at his sweet gesture. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes on Rafe as he made his way to the driver’s side of the truck. There was something about him that you never noticed before; you don’t think you've ever seen Rafe's face in so much detail.

In the soft moonlight, his features seemed even more striking. His jawline was strong and defined, giving him a chiseled, almost classic handsomeness. His hair, slightly tousled, framed his face perfectly. But it was his eyes that truly captivated you. They were a deep, mesmerizing shade of blue, like the ocean just before a storm. There was the same intensity in them that you felt Friday night, a mix of vulnerability and determination that made it hard to look away.

You noticed the small, almost invisible freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose and the way his lips curved into a genuine smile when he looked at you. His smile reached his eyes, crinkling them at the corners, adding a warmth that contrasted with his usual rugged appearance.

As he climbed into the truck and started the engine, you couldn’t help but think about how handsome he was. There was a depth to his features, a blend of softness and strength that made your heart race. And those eyes—they seemed to see right through you, making you feel both exposed and understood in a way you hadn't felt before. They made you feel like you could never hide anything from them, even if you tried

Rafe glanced over at you, catching you staring. “Everything okay?” he asked with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You quickly looked away, embarrassed, a shade of pink rushing to your cheeks.

 “Yeah, everything’s fine.” Thankfully, it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the full effect he was having on you.

He chuckled softly as he drove, the sound low and comforting. “Good,” he said, his eyes briefly meeting yours again, making your heart skip a beat.

The car ride settled into a comfortable silence. You kept sneaking glances at him, taking in his features, not sure if you could ever get enough. His focused expression as he drove, the way his fingers gripped the steering wheel, and the occasional sideways glance he gave you—all of it made you feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

After a short drive, you pulled up to a cute little ice cream shop. The neon red signs on top highlighted the shop's name, and a few neon signs in the window, one saying “Open,” cast a warm, inviting glow. Despite living in the Outer Banks for years, you realized you had never been inside this place.

Rafe parked the truck and quickly came around to open your door again. “I thought ice cream sounded good,” he said sheepishly, a small smile playing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but smile back. “It sounds perfect.”

He guided you inside, and the shop was just as charming as it looked from the outside. Only two other customers were there, an elderly couple sitting in the corner, sharing some ice cream. The sight warmed your heart, and you couldn’t help but hope that you might have something like that in your future.

You looked at all the ice cream cases, feeling not only indecisive due to the variety of choices but also because of the man standing next to you. The fact that he was taking you to get ice cream felt surreal in a way.

He interrupted you out of your thoughts, “So, what are you thinking?” Rafe asked, his eyes twinkling as he watched you deliberate.

“There are so many options,” you said, laughing softly. “What do you recommend?” 

He leaned in slightly, scanning the flavors with you, his arm going to the small of your back making your heart jump. “I usually go for mint chocolate chips or cookies and cream. But honestly, everything here is good.”

You finally decided on cookies and cream, and Rafe placed the order, paying for both of you despite your protests. It was another small gesture that made your heart flutter, only making it harder for you to deny your feelings for him.

“Thank you for this,” you said softly, taking a bite of your ice cream. The flavors melted in your mouth, swearing it was the best ice cream you've ever tasted.

After finishing your ice cream, Rafe suggested taking a walk along the pier. The night air was cool, and the soft sounds of the waves crashing against the shore added to the serene atmosphere. As you strolled together, the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on everything and nothing in particular. Through these moments, you learned more about Rafe. He confided in you that he often comes out here to clear his head when he needs to escape.

Rafe began to open up about his relationship with his dad, revealing that his father is very hard on him and doesn't listen to him much. This was something you were somewhat aware of from your time at the Cameron residence. However, you never fully grasped the depth of their issues or the impact they could have on Rafe. Whenever you and Sarah talked about it, she would casually brush it off. Sarah's dad always showed love and affection towards her and Wheezie, but he seemed to have a different, much harsher approach with Rafe- that was something you couldn’t even deny. 

Your heart pangs at his words, feeling helpless for his dad's impossibly high standards and the lack of emotional support Rafe had in his life. Making it evident his father contributed heavily to Rafe's inner turmoil and confident persona he always tried to display, even due to his inner low self-esteem.

You took a deep breath and shared, "I'm sorry Rafe you don't deserve that.” You paused for a moment, then continued, “My parents put a lot of pressure on me too. They have these expectations for me to act a certain way, hang out with the 'right' people, and excel academically. They want me to be at the top of my class and have my future all planned out. But half the time I just don’t know what the fuck I'm doing you know.”

Rafe nodded, his expression softening as he listened. “I get that. It's like no matter what you do, it's never enough for them."

“Exactly,” you said, it was like a breath of fresh air, having someone feel the exact way you felt.

You walked along the pier a little bit more, the mood shifting as the subject changed to something more light-hearted. 

Rafe’s perfect smile and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed made you feel at ease, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to him more and more. As you continued to walk, you couldn't help but wrap your arms around yourself to keep yourself warm, the cold draft of the night flowing through the wind.

Rafe took immediate notice of this, taking off his gray hoodie, revealing a simple t-shirt underneath, offering it to you.

“Here, take my hoodie, it’s getting cold” he insisted, his voice gentle yet firm.

“No, I’m okay,” you insisted, though you were visibly shivering, cursing yourself for not wearing something heavier, knowing that the Outer Banks gets cold at night.

You couldn’t help but smile at his insistence as you pulled the hoodie over your head, savoring the warmth and the faint scent of him that clung to the fabric, bringing your mind back to memories of his room.

As you reached the end of the pier, Rafe suddenly scooped you up, causing you to squeal in surprise and curse at the sudden movement. You playfully hit his chest, telling him to set you down, laughing as he gently set you on the rail of the pier, standing between your legs and holding you steadily, making sure you didn’t fall.

Your heart raced as he held you, the warmth of his hands on your waist grounding you. The moment felt surreal, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling inside you. You were very aware of his closeness, the way his breath mingled with yours in the cool night air, and the protective way he made sure you were safe.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft but earnest. “I want to try with you. Give me a chance.” His words hung in the air, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

Your heart swelled with emotion at his confession. The rawness in his voice, the openness in his gaze—it all made you realize how much this meant to him, there was no lie behind his face. You both knew the complications that lay ahead, the secrets you would have to keep. The thought of having to hide this from everyone, especially the Pogues, weighed heavily on your mind. Yet, at this moment, none of that seemed to matter. The only thing that did was the way Rafe looked at you, his eyes full of determination and sincerity.

Leaning in, you closed the distance between you and Rafe, your lips meeting in a tender kiss. Rafe brings his right hand to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. The air around you seemed to be still, the soft sounds of the waves merging with the quiet rustling of the night breeze through the pier's wooden planks. Above, the stars twinkled in a vast dark sky along with the bright moonlight, illuminating the scene below it.

Rafe’s lips were warm against yours, his touch both cold and gentle, yet undeniably sure. It sent shivers down your spine and raised goosebumps on your arms, intensifying the sensation of his closeness. It was a kiss that felt like a beginning, a promise of something deeper and more meaningful between you both. As you melted into each other, the world around you faded into the background, leaving only the sensation of his closeness and the beat of your racing heart.

At that moment, all your doubts and uncertainties seemed to melt away. The kiss was more than amazing—it was transformative. It showed you a different side of Rafe, one that was caring and vulnerable, he had opened up to you in a way you hadn’t expected. 

After the kiss, you both stood there for a moment, breathless and lost in each other's eyes. Eventually, Rafe broke the silence with a gentle smile, his hand still resting on your neck.

"Come on," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let's get you home."

—

Rafe slowly pulled back into your neighborhood, his truck coming to a halt. Feeling sleep wanting to overtake you, but adrenaline keeping you up, this new feeling with Rafe was electrifying. Rafe turned his truck off, creating defying silence between you, no longer the quiet hum of the engine allowing for both of you to process what just happened.

"You know," Rafe finally spoke, breaking the silence as he glanced at you briefly, "I meant what I said back there. I want to try, Y/N. With you."

His sincerity warmed your heart, and you smiled softly. "I want to try too, Rafe. I'm serious.”

A small smile played on his lips as he leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, taking in your features. "Good," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. "Because I really like you, Y/N."

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, warmth spreading through you, for the first time feeling confident in your answer. "I really like you too, Rafe."

The moment hung between you, filled with unspoken promises and the quiet assurance that despite the confusing road of the head, you both had deep feelings for one another. Rafe leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away, signaling it was the end of your night together

"Goodnight, Y/N," he said softly, his voice carrying a mix of fondness and reluctance.

"Goodnight, Rafe, thank you for tonight,”  you replied, pulling away from his touch and letting yourself out of his truck, watching him as he drove away into the night, sneaking your way back into your room.

—

The house was quiet, everyone else already asleep, oblivious to the evening you had just experienced. Closing your window softly behind you, you leaned against it, replaying every moment with Rafe in your mind, your smile still dancing on your lips.

Setting his hoodie gently on your desk chair, you couldn't help but smile as you caught a whiff of his cologne still lingering on the fabric. It was a comforting reminder of the night, of Rafe's warmth, and the stolen moments you shared. The scent was intoxicating, a mix of his favorite cologne and the sea breeze from your walk along the pier. You made a silent promise to yourself not to wash it anytime soon, wanting to preserve that connection just a little longer.

Climbing into bed, you felt a new sense of relief and thrill wash over you. The sheets were cool against your skin, but your heart was warm with the memory of Rafe’s touch. Despite the need for the secrecy that lay ahead, having to keep this from your closest friends, the thought of stolen kisses and secret hangouts with Rafe made your skin jump; tonight was just a little taste. You imagined the thrill of sneaking around, the excitement of quick, whispered conversations and stolen glances when no one was looking. The risk suddenly felt worth taking.

You were unsure if you even would want to tell your parents about Rafe, you knew they'd be questioning your sudden giddiness. Even though you were always out doing something with friends, it would be weird for them to see you coming home extra late, always texting on your phone. But you guess you'll get there when it happens, knowing you'd have to throw in a couple of white lies here and there.

As you snuggled under the covers, hugging your pillow, a giddy excitement bubbled up inside you. The nervous energy from earlier was now accompanied by a comforting warmth, similar to the feeling you get when you know Christmas is coming; the anticipation of what's to come made you feel more excited than ever. Your mind couldn’t help but wander to the way Rafe’s eyes had softened when he looked at you, the sincerity in his voice when he confessed his feelings and the gentle yet firm touch of his hand on your neck. You wondered who else had seen this side of Rafe, knowing it was rare. Has Topper or Kelce ever witnessed this caring, soft-spoken, vulnerable side of him? Did his family ever see it? Have any other girls experienced Rafe this way? The usual outward persona of Rafe was always blocked off and cold, making it seem crazy that you were getting to see something more, something everyone wondered if Rafe even had in him. Your mind continued to race with a million thoughts, all of them not seeming to have a definite answer.

As you eventually drifted off to sleep, a smile still sat on your lips. Tonight had been the beginning, a taste of the hidden affection and shared secrets with Rafe.

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Taglist: @rafesno1bae

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Im here from our convo on discord! Have fun, I can't wait! Villain with water powers, gets upset over something and storms off, hero is worried about them and follows after but by the time they catch up villain is already chilling at the bottom of the pool and maybe hero can't swim or something so they can't get villain's attention or maybe they don't want to disturb them until they calm down so they decide to simply wait for them to come out. Villain emerges a while later to find hero had fallen asleep on the floor next to the pool while waiting for them and feels bad but also loses all anger villain had for them seeing how much hero cares so villain tucks them into bed.

Hi Crewe! Thank you so much for this request, the moment I read it I knew it was gonna be so much fun to write! Here you go, I hope you like it!

Calming Waters

The argument had been going on for some time.

“This is why we can’t have nice things!” Villain spat.

“What are you talking about!?” Hero countered, “I get hit one time and you’re calling it quits?”

“No, I’m calling it quits because you’re so reckless in everything you do, that I’m saving you more than I’m fighting you! I’m a villain! You see how that’s a problem, right!?”

“Villain-”

Villain held up a finger for silence, looking away from Hero in an attempt to collect themselves.

“No.” they said, “no more talking, no more arguing. I’m going to my quiet place, and you are not going to bother me.”

At that, Villain turned on their heel and stormed off. Hero bit their lip, debating whether to follow them. By the time they did decide to follow them, Villain was already at the bottom of their enormous pool- in the deep end no less, right where Hero couldn’t get to them. Hero’s ice powers made them particularly buoyant, to the point that if they tried to swim, they’d just float back up to the top. Convenient for a water-breathing Villain that wanted to be left alone.

So Hero did leave them alone. They sat on the ground for what felt like hours, the only sounds being the rustle of the trees and the steady stream of bubbles coming up from Villain’s spot on the pool floor. Occasionally, some birds would start chirping and a soothing summer breeze would blow by. All the quiet made Hero just want to close their eyes for a minute… yeah, just a minute…

…

Villain took a deep breath, then looked up to the surface. Judging by the orange light filtering through the water, the sun was starting to set. Hero had really riled them up this time. They were endearing, but so impulsive, always getting themselves into some kind of trouble that Villain inevitably had to get them out of. Why? Well, no one else was going to do it, and frankly, Villain cared about them, more than they wanted to admit. Villain took another deep breath and started to swim up to the surface, feeling much calmer now.

When their head broke above the surface, they were greeted by soft, gentle snores. Villain quietly climbed out of the pool and looked at Hero, their gaze softening at the sight. Hero had fallen asleep on the ground, half sitting up and half laying down. That couldn’t be comfortable. Villain tutted quietly, then used their powers to collect all the water that was clinging to them. They formed the droplets into a large ball and silently poured it back into the pool.

Villain picked Hero up in a bridal carry, and started to bring them inside the manor. Hero stirred a little in their sleep.

“Mm?”

“Shh,” Villain soothed, “go back to sleep.”

Hero didn’t need to be told twice. They settled back down into a peaceful slumber, just as Villain laid them down in their bed. They tucked them in under the covers, then tucked a strand of hair behind their ear. They drew the curtains shut and left the room, a bit of guilt bubbling up inside them, but it was accompanied by the warm feeling of affection. It was amazing what water could do.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

[a-certain-romance]

Kinktober fic #2: Kafka & Himeko + Handcuffs

Characters/Ships: Kafka & Himeko x reader

Warnings: Smut written by a minor, mentions of drinking, mentions of drinking, biting, some masturbation, grinding, some degradation & praise

“When did she have the time to book a dj?”

It came to no surprise that Kafka went out for Halloween. Year after year, she sets up a grand party for the spooky occasion. Different themes for different years of course, and each one never ceases to amaze you.

“It’s Kafka, she has her ways” Himeko slides up beside you, snaking an arm around your waist. You jump slightly in surprise, how was she able to hear you over the blaring music? Himeko was dressed head to toe in a sexy police uniform—an accidental arrangement made by you one night. Himeko took the phrase good cop bad cop to heart and found the perfect criminal costume for you to wear. Kafka was in a similar uniform somewhere around her house.

She had some protest about it, muttering about how she wanted to do something involving spiders. But one look at your pleading faces convinced her otherwise.

Himeko leans into you, “We’ve been waiting for you” she murmurs, tugging at the collar of your garment. “You know, I think the orange really brings out your eyes”.

She pulls you closer to her side and her blunt nails scratch your side gently. You didn’t have the liquid courage to mention how the color brings out her hair instead. She leads you around to the center floor. The drinks continued to pour as the night wears on, eventually finding Kafka making her rounds with different groups.

Your two girlfriends are always…interesting when drunk.

Kafka’s reaction is always a gamble. Sometimes she’s philosophical, sometimes she’s quiet. It really depends on the crowd. And with her eyes on you tonight, she’s especially clingy. There isn’t a moment where she strays too far after finding you and Himeko.

As for Himeko, she’s a little different. Always the one to carry herself with such poise and politeness. So when she gets a little bit tipsy, she starts to relax a little. She’s still calm and collected, but she starts to let loose without the worry of being in control. And little by little, she starts to loose her filter as well. This Himeko loves to whisper dirty sayings into your’s and Kafka’s ears with an almost complete straight face. She’s laughs it off like nothing, but she makes true to her promises every single time.

The two of them end up cornering you against a counter in the kitchen. “You two are just too tempting to resist. What am I to do with you both?” Kafka murmurs.

Himeko tugs against your shirt, “Im sure we can figure that out in the bedroom~”

The 3 of you clumsily make your way up the stairs and into Kafka’s room. Himeko shoves you down into the queen sized mattress as Kafka locks the door. Himeko’s tongue makes its way into your mouth and she holds you in place for a sloppy make-out session. With her teeth biting your lip, her hands pry open the buttons from your top.

“Himeko, let’s arrest her” Kafka teases, twirling a set of silver handcuffs in between her fingers. Himeko laughs when she sees them and forces you to your knees on the bed.

Kafka yanks your hands forward. She circles your wrists with the smooth metal and clasps it tight. She tosses the key behind her after locking them shut and wastes no time to start biting your shoulder.

Himeko’s lipstick smudges into your lips once again. Kafka’s red wine marks immediately follow along your collarbone. Himeko gasps when the two of you part, and then makes her way to your neck. Her lips suck bright red spots into your neck.

Their touching has you in a frenzy. Your thighs rub together impatiently. They don’t seem to pay attention to your movements yet, so there’s no shame in satisfying yourself in the meantime, right? You bring your cuffed hands down to your core. Your fingers subtly slide under your underwear to find some relief. They’re too distracted with your neck and chest to notice the added pressure to your clit.

The pleasure from them both is too much, and an accidental moan catches the attention of Kafka.

“I know you’re desperate, but did we ever give you permission to touch yourself?” Kafka tuts. She reaches down and grips your forearm tightly, pulling it away from its previous position. “Oh you helpless thing, maybe we she cuff your legs apart too. Sluts like you love being tied down. Should I bring out the spreader bar?”

You whine softly at the loss of pressure. Kafka’s grip leaves nail indents in your smooth skin. You protest. Your legs quiver with want.

“Aw, does being mean make you wet?”

“Play nice, Kafka. We teased her for hours, she can’t help being needy.”

“Patience is a virtue, Himeko. She needs to learn it. But I suppose we can make an exception for tonight and save the discipline for another day. Go ahead, grind on my thigh. Yes, just like that.” She remarks, letting you settle on her lap.

Shakily, you slowly drag your clothed cunt back and forth along Kafka’s thighs. Small wet patches start to stain her costume from you motions. Kafka craves more of your touch. You let her guide your cuffed wrists over her head so they circle her neck. Her lips press to yours now that you’re close enough.

Behind you, Himeko’s breasts press against your back. She kisses the back of your neck. “Don’t you want to be a good girl for us? If you follow our directions well, we just might reward you~” Himeko’s slender fingers grasp your hips and rock your body deeper onto Kafka’s thighs.

Kafka’s tongue grazes your top lip. A particular thrust sends you forward and allows her tongue to slip into your mouth. Kafka groans when her tongue meets your own. Her strokes were enough to leave you breathless and more wanton than before.

“Please,” you exhale, “I need your fingers”

“I think you’re perfect like this.” Kafka sighs against your lips. Himeko caresses your soft chest, cupping your breasts in unison and massaging them gently. “I agree with Kafka. I think you’ve earned your reward. You’ve been such a good girl, following our orders so obediently. You deserve to cum like this, and then we can take you any way you want after.” Himeko helps you slide off your underwear before repositioning you back on Kafka’s thighs. Himeko nips gently at your neck before her hands go back to your hips, rocking you with more force.

Your body writhes between the two of them. Himeko’s thrusts are moving your hips perfectly at just the right angle. You let out a moan by Kafka’s ear. She raises a brow, then bounces her leg up to meet your core. Your gasps turn into louder moans until you release all over her thighs.

“I want a turn with her” Himeko pouts, twirling your hair with her finger. Kafka’s gloved fingers run through your hair.

“We have all night, I don’t see why not.”

Hours later, the party has long stopped and the break of the morning sun rises above nearby houses. Kafka and Himeko are curled into your sides, enveloping you in warmth.

“So,” you start, “where’s the key to unlock these cuffs?”

Silence.

[tempvstas]

Good Things Come To Those Who Wait

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Content Warning(s): some angst, leona being emo lol

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Leona Kingscholar

Authors Notes: Hello all, I am not dead, just busy :] Life update, started uni so I've been busy with that, also, bit off more than I could chew so I burned out HARD. Genuinely lost motivation to write. But I do want to get back into the flow of writing. I'll try and fulfill requests(esp the ones sitting in my inbox, sorry to everyone who sent me requests before im not ignoring you i swear 💀) when I can but theres no guarantee. I wanna write what I can and what I want to and atm its Leona :]]. Please enjoy LMAO

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Leona couldn't remember the last time he had felt the warmth of another.

Moonlight filters through the open balcony of his room, a gentle breeze causing the curtains to sway slightly. He can feel your hands curled around his waist, his tail wrapped around your leg respectively. He stares at you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly, your soft snores seemingly filling up the room.

Silly Herbivore. He muses, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. You're so vulnerable, nestled against his chest. Wholeheartedly clinging onto him as if you were afraid he'd disappear. As he stares at you, he can't help the slight bitterness that wells up in his throat.

Why did you choose him out of everyone? Out of pity? He's never been good enough. The elders and servants back home made that quite obvious enough. He almost laughs out loud at the thought. He would never be good enough, would never be anyone's first choice, and would never put in enough effort because he was just too damn lazy.

A worthless, selfish, arrogant, too prideful for his own good, lazy, a good-for-nothing second prince who will never amount to anything.

Does he even deserve you?

Your slight movements startle him out of his thoughts as he stares down at you, blinking up at him with bleary eyes.

"Leona?" You mumble, rubbing your eyes. "Can't sleep? That's unusual," you tease him, shooting him a sleepy grin. Unwittingly, Leona feels the edges of his lips quirk up, "I was planning on it, until you started squirming around," he huffed. You study his face, a frown marring your features. Leona pokes your brow where it's creased, chuckling slightly, "Don't do that, your face will get stuck like that." You scowl at him, "I'm not a kid," you grumble, "Besides you have that look on your face and I'm worried about you."

Leona stares at you, an eyebrow raised, "Mind elaborating on what 'that look' means." You sit up so that you're face to face with him. "You know, that look! When you get all broody and emo, and all 'oh my sevens im so angsty grr'. That look." Leona wrinkles his nose at your wording, "Very funny Herbivore." You continue to stare at him, concern causes your brow to crease even more.

"Leona, what's wrong? I can tell something's up with you. I know you don't like opening up, and that's fine, but you know I'm here for you, right?" You reach over, taking his hand in yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. Leona's breath hitches in his throat for a second, he finds himself shutting his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he finds your gaze trained on his.

Not looking away from him, holding his gaze unwaveringly. Genuine sincerity in your eyes.

"Leona." His ears twitch at the sound of his name being called. Your voice is firm, to get his attention, but soft enough that he doesn't feel the urge to flinch away. He sighs, feeling that you wouldn't let this matter go easily.

"I know you are. If you want the truth, no I'm not fine." Leona grimaces, this feeling of opening himself up was foreign to him. "I'm far from fine. I'm just.....what did I do to deserve you?" His voice breaks a little at the last part, but he continues. "I'm worthless, selfish, arrogant, too prideful for my own good, lazy, a good-for-nothing second prince who will never amount to anything. Compared to Farena or that damned lizard Malleus, I'm nothing. I have nothing. I will never be anything more because I will always be overshadowed by people like them." He takes a second to collect his thoughts before continuing. "I've always had to work hard to earn my keep only for everything to crumble like sand. All my hard work amounting to nothing because someone just so happens to be lucky enough to just be better." His ears flatten against his head out of irritation.

You listen to his words, staying silent. You give him a moment to catch his breath before hesitantly reaching over, pressing a hand to his cheek. Leona flinches, but then leans into your touch after a brief second. "Hey...look at me," you nudge his face so that he's staring at you.

"Look, I will admit you can be selfish, hell sometimes kind of a dick. You irritate me and sometimes I want to strangle you cause you won't let me get to class on time because you won't get off me." You pause, before continuing, "But you are not worthless. And you're not a good-for-nothing second prince. I love you, faults and all. You, Leona Kingscholar, are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me okay? I would go to hell and back for your stinky ass." Leona laughs softly at your nickname for him, leaning more into your hand. "You are worthy. I didn't choose to love you because I felt pity for you, I love you because of who you are. You say that all your hard work crumbles to sand? I've seen you pick yourself back up again. You're passionate about what you're interested in, and even if you won't outwardly say it, I know you care. You're not a saint by any means, far from it. But that's what I love about you. You're flawed and imperfect, and I say that's better than some perfect curated image of who you're supposed to be." You poke his chest to emphasize your point.

"So don't you ever question why I love you okay?" Your thumb brushes over the scar over his left eye, pressing a soft kiss to his eyelid. His eyelashes tickle your face as you do so. "I love you, scars and all. And I'll say it as many times as I need to."

Leona stares at you, a mix of emotions in his gaze. He clears his throat, his tail tugging you closer to him. "Fuck...that was hot," he smirks, leaning in, his nose brushing against yours. "Seriously? I give you this long speech and thats what you have to say?" You roll your eyes playfully, smacking his shoulder lightly. Leona's laughter rumbles in his throat as a hand gently holds onto the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. Despite his rough exterior, his kisses are gentle, his lips molding against yours. His other hand finds its way to your waist, holding you in place as you straddle his hips.

The two of you part for air, small gasps can be heard between you. You wrap your arms around his neck as you settle next to him, head nestled in his neck. Leona adjusts his position into a more comfortable one, his chin resting against the top of your head. The two of you lay in silence, the only audible sound being the occasional breeze that ruffles the curtains. Slowly you find yourself falling into the embrace of sleep.

"Herbivore?" You hear his voice above you. "Mhmm?" you mumble sleepily, feeling your eyes drooping.

"....I love you." You smile, hearing his words, before drifting off.

Ensuring that you're asleep, Leona leans over, kissing your forehead, watching your sleeping face. "....Thank you for being in my life.....and for not giving up on me," he whispers, before settling against you and drifting off himself.

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[notiddygxthgf]

6. troublemaker

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ Did you miss me? ❞ ❝ Only a little. ❞

★ c.w.: smoking, smut, lots of filthy dirty talk omg. (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: i hated writing this chapter only bc its like omg. i just want everyone to be HAPPYYYYY!! ugh. I tried to make it slow burny but as you can see that did not work out. I missed aki too much to bear it. Anyway! I'm finishing up the last few chapters in google docs (dw there are many chapters you will see before i post them, i like to be prepared is all) and im thinking of how to end the story. Leave suggestions! Keep them comments coming, I love reading through them! I be, like, kicking my feet n shit. 

★ w.c: .5.5k

shameless ; chapter index

THE MORNING LIGHT FILTERED SOFTLY through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room. You stirred, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. His arm was still draped over you, holding you close. As you opened your eyes, you found yourself face to face with him. He was already awake, his gaze warm and soft, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice husky.

Yesterday was real. He was real.

"Morning," You replied, a blush creeping up your cheeks. The two of you were still pressed bare chest to bare chest, a gesture so sickeningly intimate that you couldn't help but blush.

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. "How did you sleep?" he asked.

You smiled, feeling a little shy. "Better than I have in a long time," you admitted. "You?"

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling. "Like a baby," he said, his hand gently caressing your back. "You're a wild sleeper, though. Almost pushed me off the bed."

You laughed, feeling a lightness in your chest that you hadn't felt in ages. "And you're a wild lover. My back feels like shit," you teased, snuggling closer to him.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Sorry," he said quietly, his breath warm against your skin. "Wanna do it again sometime?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and for a moment, you were lost in the tender bliss of it all. 

"When's sometime?" You dared to ask.

He grinned – giddy and breathless and pretty, "Right now works for me. You?"

You laughed, "Don't be greedy."

Still, you thought about it. You thought about rolling over and kissing his pretty face again, being close to him – feeling his hands on your hips while he slowly, lazily thrusted up into you.

But then, reality came crashing down on you. You had a train to catch and responsibilities to face. As much as you wanted to stay in this cocoon of warmth and affection with him forever – stay buried in his strong, sweet smelling arms – you knew you couldn't.

You glanced over at the clock on the bedside table and your eyes widened in alarm. "My train!" You exclaimed, quickly pulling away from him. You reached for your phone, checking the time. 

Hurriedly, you got out of bed. You began gathering your things, slipping into your Public Safety suit and tie uniform. As you zipped up your suitcase, you caught his eye in the mirror. He was watching you with the most tender smile, and it made your heart ache.

"I'm going to have to call a cab," You said, smoothing out your uniform in the mirror. "I was going to walk, but... at this rate..." You trailed off, biting your lip.

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Don't worry about it," he said, getting out of bed. He came up behind you, his presence comforting. "I'll drive you."

You turned to face him, a look of surprise on your face. "You sure?" you asked, your voice soft. "I don't want to put you out of your way. I know you have work today."

You really, really, could get used to a sight like this – a handsome captain standing in nothing more than a pair of boxers behind you, admiring your uniform in the mirror like you were a fucking painting.

He smiled, a gentle, reassuring smile. "I can run a few minutes late," he said. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "I want to make sure you get there safely."

It felt so good to be desired by him.

You felt a lump form in your throat. The way he held you, the concern in his voice—it was more than you had expected, more than you felt you deserved. You looked at your reflection in the mirror, meeting his eyes. 

"I'll be fine, Aki," You said softly. You were a devil hunter, after all. You could defend yourself against anything.

"It's not up for debate," he said gently but firmly. "I'm taking you to the train station. Are you all packed?"

At this rate, I'm gonna fall for him.

"Yeah," You smiled breathlessly.

He landed a smack on your ass, "Then bring it here, and let's hit the road. If I look at you any longer, I'll give you a reason to miss the train."

"Fine," You laughed. "I'm carrying my own suitcase, though."

It was something you were used to doing. Something completely mindless – your husband never helped you with your bags, or anything like that. 

"And have you lift a finger?" He retorted, "Over my dead body."

"Watch me," You grinned back.

You never did wind up carrying your suitcase to the car. Or opening the door, for that matter. Aki, a man true to his word, did not let you lift a finger.

.

The train station was the same way it had been when you'd arrived only a week or so earlier. The only different thing about it, in fact, was the fact that you were with the same man you had bumped into upon your arrival – and now he was carrying your luggage for you.

As you reached up to grab your suitcase, you collided with someone. Startled, you looked up to find yourself face-to-face with a man who immediately captured your attention. He was tall, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders and a powerful build that spoke of both strength and discipline. His dark hair was tied back in a neat topknot, accentuating his sharp, angular features. But it was his eyes that held you—their piercing blue depths seemed to look straight through you, filled with a seriousness that made you catch your breath.

"Sorry—" he began, his voice a deep, resonant baritone that vibrated through the narrow space.

The butterfly effect was a strange thing, truly. 

The two of you stopped in front of the tracks. He checked his wrist watch, parking your luggage right beside him. As if on cue, a train pulled into the station, screeching to an unceremonious stop. You had half of a mind to be upset about its arrival, as if you had been robbed of your precious time with him (even if it was only a few minutes, and even if the two of you had spent the entire car ride talking shit about coworkers).

"Just in time," He remarked.

You didn't know how to feel. Should you have been happy that you were finally able to leave your transgressions behind and return to your husband? If such was the case, then why did you feel as if you were leaving such a large part of you behind?

As if your heart was buried in Tokyo along with the memories of your past?

"Yup," You replied in a remarkably stupid fashion. As the doors of the train opened and passengers began pouring out, your heart dropped.

He observed you fondly, the faintest hint of affection in his stoic resting face – as if he was expecting you to make the first move.

So, not knowing what else to do, you bowed your head ever-so-slightly. 

"Thank you for everything," You said. Then, struggling to find the words to say what you meant (I miss you already...? Will I ever see you again...? I wish I didn't have to leave...?), you added, "Okay. I guess this is it. Goodbye, Aki."

You turned to walk away, feeling the weight of the moment pressing on your chest. Every step felt like a betrayal. 

Suddenly, you felt a firm but gentle grip on your arm. Before you could process what was happening, Aki pulled you back with a surprising urgency. 

In an instant, his lips met yours in a kiss so passionate that it took your breath away. You stumbled backward, the sheer force of the moment making your knees weak, but his arm around your back secured you, holding you close to him – like he was afraid he would lose you if he let you go.

Time seemed to stop. The world around you blurred, and all you could focus on was the warmth of his lips and the pounding of your heart. His other hand moved to cup the side of your face, fingers gentle yet firm, as if he was trying to memorize every detail of this moment. Your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless. He looked at you, eyes filled with a mix of emotions you couldn't quite decipher. His cheeks were tinged with a slight blush, an endearing contrast to his usual stoic demeanor.

"Goodbye," he said softly, his voice slightly husky from the kiss. The faint blush on his cheeks deepened, giving him an almost boyish charm. 

You could feel your face heating up, the blush spreading like wildfire. "Bye," you managed to say, your voice coming out more giddy than you intended. The giddiness in your tone mirrored the tumultuous emotions swirling inside you.

With one last lingering look, you turned and walked toward the train, toting your suitcase with you. As you reached the door and stepped inside, you couldn't resist glancing back. He was still standing there, watching you with a mixture of longing and resignation.

The doors closed with a final, echoing thud, and the train lurched forward. You found a seat by the window, your heart still racing. As the train pulled away, you watched Aki's figure grow smaller and smaller, until he was just a distant memory in the Tokyo landscape.

Like the night you had taken a cab to get away from him.

You sighed, resting your head against the window. The kiss lingered on your lips, a bittersweet reminder of what you were leaving behind. The train rumbled on, carrying you back to the life you knew – a life that, for some odd reason, seemed much emptier.

A faint buzz of your phone, and you were checking instantly. A part of you hoped it was him, begging you to get off the train, to stay with him, husband be damned.

AKI

|   I hope I get to see you again soon.

|   Get home safe.

Soon. Somehow, despite the heavy feeling in your chest that you were leaving something behind, you found it in yourself to smile. . . .

Deciding to take the more scenic route home, you opted out of boarding the bullet train. You rode local instead. You didn't even mind that you had to transfer three times, or that the commute took eight hours. It gave you some time to finish up the book you had packed, and even more time to catch up on the sleep you had lost the night before.

More importantly, above all else, you wouldn't have to see your husband so soon.

By the time you finally stumbled into the house – haphazardly tugging your suitcase along with you, it was bedtime. You found yourself hoping that your husband had gone to bed early, so that he wouldn't come all up on you expecting some sort of "I missed you" sex.

You kicked your shoes off in the foyer, and pulled your suitcase down the corridor until the voice of your husband called your name.

"You home?"

Fuck.

"Yeah!" you huffed, reluctantly following his voice towards your bedroom. You had hoped to slip in unnoticed, crawl into bed, and avoid any conversation altogether.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on you as you entered. He looked familiar – brown hair and tired eyes searching your face – but his presence didn't bring you the peace it once did. You could see the tension in his jaw, the furrow in his brow. He was waiting for something, perhaps an explanation, an apology, or a confession.

"How was your week?" he asked, his voice neutral but his eyes piercing.

"It was fun!" you said, trying to sound casual. "Met up with some old friends, got to meet some new ones..."

Images of Aki and you together flashed through your mind, and you felt a pang of guilt.

"I stayed up to talk to you, you know," he said, his tone harder now.

Your heart dropped. "About what?"

"These new friends of yours," he said. "Wouldn't happen to be one of your coworkers, would it?"

Shit. Fuck. Shit, fuck. 

Did he know? Knowing him, he could have been drunk and jealous, and just talking out of his ass. Still, a part of you couldn't help but wonder.

You froze. "What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying I don't know what you thought you were doing in Tokyo," he said, his voice rising. "But word travels in Public Safety. There are rumors about you dancing around with a little Captain, or some shit."

He does know.

"That's ridiculous!" you snapped, your defensiveness rising. "The Captain and I are mutual friends with Himeno. She made introductions, and he bought us a round of drinks. They're blowing it out of proportion."

"Are they?" he shouted, standing up. "Then, you should really, really start clearing your name. You could very well have fucked him already."

"It's not like that!" you retorted, tears stinging your eyes. It was like that. "It's not my fault that people have nothing better to talk about. I'm in love with you, and only you."

You were lying. You knew you were lying. He knew you were lying.

"Bull shit," he scoffed. "We haven't made love in two weeks."

"I don't want to do this right now," you muttered, turning away. He was insufferable, as per usual. "I'm exhausted."

"You're always exhausted," he shot back. "Always too tired to talk, too tired to fuck. Then you go off on this work trip, and there are rumors about you at some party. What am I supposed to think?"

You felt a mix of guilt and frustration. "You're my husband. You're supposed to trust me," you said quietly. "I didn't cheat on you. Don't be a dick, it was just a dance!"

Truly, the irony of the entire conversation was not lost on you.

"Want to know the truth? I really don't give a shit if you cheat on me or not. I can have another woman in here tomorrow to take your place," Your husband's next words were cold and unforgiving, "You want to keep your white-picket-fence life? Then stop embarrassing me in public."

With tears streaming down your face, you slipped into a nightgown you had hung up on the dresser. The bed felt cold and uninviting as you slid under the covers, your husband's eyes still boring into you. You turned your back to him, staring at the wall, trying to will yourself to sleep. 

The damage was already done, the emotional distance between you and your husband growing wider with each passing moment. The bed felt even colder now, and you closed your eyes, hoping for sleep to come quickly and take you away from the reality you were living.

Lying there, you couldn't help but replay the moments with Aki in your mind. The way he made you feel alive, seen, and wanted. You felt a deep pang of guilt, knowing you had betrayed your husband's trust. Yet, part of you couldn't bring yourself to regret it entirely. 

The fact of the matter was that Aki had filled a void in your life, one that you hadn't even realized was there until he came along.

Aki was ten times the man your husband could ever dream of being.

The hustle and bustle of Tokyo played in your mind, the energy of the people, and the warmth of a certain dark, handsome Captain. You even found yourself missing Himeno, her infectious laughter and the way she always knew how to lighten the mood. But most of all, you missed the secret moments with Hayakawa, the stolen kisses, the way he breathed passion into your name. Your heart ached with the memory of it all.

"I hope I'm wrong," Your husband said, his voice low and steady – a reminder of all that you had lost by settling down with him so young. "But, above all else, I hope I don't have to tell you that cheating is insulting to a man like me and stupid for a woman like you."

A man like him. You could nearly laugh at the prospect of your husband being grouped into any sort of high category. He was a piece of shit. That's what he was, and it was getting progressively harder to ignore that fact.

"Goodnight," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. You wouldn't glorify him with a response.

Your husband lay down beside you. 

"Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

Your heart raced. "No," you said, your voice barely steady. "There's nothing."

You swallowed hard, the weight of your guilt pressing down on you. 

He's too late, you thought to yourself.  .

8:38 PM [New Message]

[Play]

[Automated: Playing Voicemail from 'Makima']

"Hello. I'm sorry for calling so late. I hope I didn't disturb you. I wanted to speak with you at your earliest convenience. I have some concerns about one of my new recruits, and I'm uncertain that he will function well in his group. Would it be possible to request you for backup? You did such great work last time, and I know you won't fail me. A little help would be greatly appreciated, at least until we recover from the tremendous losses we just suffered. Thank you, again, for all that you do. Please call me back and let me know if you're available this week. Again, all expenses will be paid. Goodbye."

[Automated: You have no new messages.] .

The work week dragged on, each day blurring into the next. Every task felt like a mountain to climb, your thoughts repeatedly drifting back to Tokyo and the emotional whirlwind you'd left behind.

A few days later, as you stood in the kitchen, the aroma of cooking filling the room, you decided it was time to share your news. Your husband walked in, his mood noticeably sour.

"I've got news," you said, trying to sound casual as you stirred the pot on the stove. "I'm being reassigned to Tokyo again."

His eyes narrowed immediately. "Tokyo? Again? What is this, some kind of joke?"

"It's not a joke," you said, turning to face him. "It's a new assignment from Makima."

"Makima's orders?" he echoed, his voice rising in frustration. "So you're just going to pack up and leave again? How many times do I have to watch you walk out that door?"

"It's not like that," you said, struggling to keep your voice steady. "This is a work assignment. It's out of my control."

"Out of your control?" he snapped. "Its your job. You can say no."

"I didn't want to," You said. "I would be getting paid almost double. What did you want me to do?"

"Quit, like I've been telling you to do for the past few years," He replied. "When are you going to let me take care of you? I could make you a stay at home wife. You don't need this job."

You. A housewife. You, being trapped inside of the house all day – all of your ambitions and dreams and achievements being reduced to your status as a homemaker. That wasn't your life. It wasn't what you wanted for yourself.

Why wouldn't he take the hint?

"I'm not gonna quit. I want to work," you said, feeling a pang of defensiveness. "I need to go to Tokyo for said work. To get paid more. It's not about escaping you."

"You don't even see how you're doing exactly that. Run off, then. Go back to Tokyo."

"It's not like that," you said, trying to explain. "Life's been overwhelming. I'm not trying to run off, I just–"

"Overwhelming?" he scoffed. "You were full of energy over there. You had time for everyone else but none left for me."

Dick.

"It wasn't like that!" you said, your frustration bubbling over. "I was catching up with friends. It was a chance to get away from all of this. You cant– I won't let you criticize me for having a life outside of this marriage."

"Is that what you call it?" he snapped. "A life outside of our marriage? While I'm stuck here, waiting for my wife to come home, barely even recognizing her when she does?"

"That's not fair," you said, tears welling up. "I care about you. But it's been hard for me, too. I've been dealing with a lot."

"Dealing with a lot?" he repeated, his face reddening. "Do you even realize how distant you've become? We barely have sex anymore. We hardly talk. What kind of marriage is this?"

"I don't know," you admitted, feeling the sting of his words. "I'm tired. Maybe I would want to fuck you if you... I dunno... maybe, helped me out once in a while. You never even lift a finger around here. I'm working just as hard as you, and yet you are the one who gets to come home to a home-cooked meal."

"This wouldn't be an issue if you just quit," he shot back, taking a step closer. "But you're too busy being an independent woman, right? I own this house. It's in my name."

"I pay half of the bills," You added.

"But it's my house," He corrected you. "On paper, it belongs to me. Don't get out of line."

"Do you even hear yourself right now?" you said, your voice breaking. "I wish you would stop– fucking– pointing fingers at me for once and realize that there's a bigger issue here. We're struggling, and I don't– it's not my job to fix us."

"You can't fix shit. This is us," he said, his voice growing colder. "This is marriage. The difference between me and you is that I'm stuck dealing with this mess while you run off and live your life. How am I supposed to just accept that?"

"You don't have to accept it," you said, frustration rising. "But you need to understand that I'm not doing this to hurt you. I need to have a life of my own."

"A life of your own," he echoed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "It seems like you're more interested in escaping the life you have than in fixing what's broken between us."

"Stop it," you said, your anger flaring. You set your spoon down on the stove, turned the burner off, and turned to face the man you were supposed to love. "This conversation is over."

"I don't get it," he said, his eyes darkening. "Are you happier away from me? Are you saying that you're not interested in being here, in working on our relationship?"

"That's not what I'm saying," you said, lip quivering with anger. "But I can't just flip a switch and make everything perfect. I'm trying. You can't wall me up inside this house and expect me to be your bitch forever. I want to– I need to have a life."

"Be grateful for the life I gave you," he spat, his voice harsh and final, dripping with hatred and venom. It could not have been more apparent. Your husband hated you. "I'm the one who provides for you. I'm the reason you have a home and a life. Without me, you'd have nothing."

"Even with you, I have nothing," you laughed humorlessly. "There's nothing here. Nothing between us. I'm starting to believe I shouldn't have married you to begin with. Lord knows we were fine before, but you just had to settle down in the countryside."

You froze. The coldness of your own words cut through the air like ice. Before you could take it back, apologize, even, his hand lashed out, striking you across the face. The shock of the blow left you reeling, your cheek stinging with pain.

He spoke slowly, like he was sounding it out. His eyes wide, he apologized– "Honey, wait, I–"

"Fuck you," you whispered, the tears falling freely now. 

You turned on your heel and fled to your room, your heart pounding.

Inside, you slammed the door and leaned against it, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts. The pain in your cheek was sharp, but you forced yourself to focus on something else. 

You began unpacking your suitcase, using the physical task to distract yourself from the emotional turmoil.

You tugged the zipper open, revealing neat piles of folded clothes. You began to pull them out, laying at the foot of your bed. As you reached the bottom of the suitcase, you uncovered the painting Aki had gifted you, carefully wrapped in bubble wrap. 

You unwrapped it slowly, revealing the vibrant colors and delicate brushstrokes. The painting was a tangible piece of Tokyo, a reminder of a time when you had felt truly alive – the flowers in the field. The strong tree. The blue sky, and the warm, warm sun.

It had no place in your home.

Your room felt cold and impersonal, a stark contrast to the warmth of the painting. You knew it didn't belong here, in this bedroom that felt more like a prison than a home – with gray walls and gray floors. But as you looked at the painting, a deep longing settled in your chest.

You glanced around the room, your eyes landing on a framed photo of you and your husband. It was one that had been taken at your wedding reception. He was grinning ear to ear, holding you close to his side. You were smiling, too, face smeared with cake – hopeful for your future with the man you loved.

Without hesitation, you took it down and replaced it with the painting. As you hung it up, you felt a rush of warmth spread through your chest, a flicker of happiness amid the darkness.

Standing back, you admired the painting. For a brief moment, the pain and anger seemed to melt away, replaced by the comforting memory of Aki. Oddly enough, staring at the painting long enough, you felt as if you could almost feel his presence, smell his warm cologne whipped together with the scent of the nicotine that lingered on his uniform. You felt as if you could practically feel him behind you, hands resting on your waist, soft lips pressing tender kisses to the valley of your neck.

And, only then did you really grasp the gravity of your situation. You were fucked. Completely and totally fucked.

Aki's text from the train sat heavy and unanswered still in your pocket. A week had passed, and you hadn't dared to text him back. 

You didn't need to open it to know what it said. You had stared at it for so long that the image was practically ingrained into your memory.

I hope I get to see you again soon.

Get home safe.

You shouldn't. You knew you shouldn't. But you could feel the weight of your phone in your pocket, the weight of your desire rearing its ugly head during a moment of weakness, and you couldn't help yourself. Before you could stop and think twice about it, you were flipping your phone open and browsing your contact book, pressing 'ok' on a name you most definitely should have deleted by now.

The phone rang once. Twice. A third time. 

Then it clicked.

"Hello?"

"Hey," You exhaled, relieved that your call had gone through. You crossed your legs, plopping down onto the bed.

"Hey, troublemaker."

The wave of heat that washed over you at the sound of his voice was uncanny. He filled you with a fantastic sort of giddiness that you hadn't felt in years – you didn't even care that your husband was about to eat dinner in the next room, just as he didn't seem to care that you had been M.I.A. for the past week.

In his typical fashion, he made you forget about your surroundings. Right then, it was just you and him, and that's all that mattered.

"Did you miss me?" Aki asked.

"Only a little," You replied. You couldn't help but smile. "What are you up to right now? Do you have time to talk?"

"Of course. I always have time for you," He answered warmly. His voice was deep and tender, and it made you melt all over the bed. "I'm laying in bed right now. Just had a smoke. How did you know I was thinking about you?"

There were so many things you wanted to say to him – I miss you, come get me, he hit me. I need you – and yet you couldn't help but bask in the comforting silence.

"Lucky guess," you said, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. "I've been thinking about you too. What's it like there? Anything exciting?"

"It's Tokyo," he said with a lazy lilt to his voice. He sounded tired, as he always did. It was endearing. "Could be better, but honestly, I'd trade it all just to be with you right now."

You felt a shiver of excitement at his words. The warmth of his voice and the lightness of the conversation made you forget, if only for a moment, the coldness of your current reality.

You knew it was bad. Still, you grinned, rolling onto your stomach while you took the call, kicking your feet.

"So, what's the weather like there?" You asked, trying to keep the tone light but unable to mask the undercurrent of flirtation.

You would say anything if it meant you would get to hear his voice a little longer.

"Warm, surprisingly," Aki replied, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone."Have you been holding up okay over there? You haven't spoken to me in a week."

"Probably for the better," you said, a laugh escaping you. "Even now, I shouldn't be talking to you. I'm sitting here in this freezing room, and your words are the only thing warming me up."

"Good," he said, his tone suggestive. "Maybe one day soon I can warm you up in person. Until then, just know I'm thinking about you."

You rested your head on the bed, the phone pressed to your ear, feeling as if you were floating in the warmth of his words. Despite the rational part of your mind telling you to be cautious, you found yourself lost in the conversation, savoring every last moment you could.

"Are you still there?" Aki's voice came through, warm and inviting, like a soft blanket in the coolness of your room.

"Yeah," you replied, settling into the bed, propping yourself up with pillows. "I'm still here. Just... don't want to hang up."

"Glad to hear it," he said, his tone teasing. "I'm not ready to let go of you either. What are you thinking about?"

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. "Just thinking about how nice it is to hear your voice. It's been such a rough day, and talking to you made me feel a little better."

"Wanna talk about it?" Aki asked softly. "I've been thinking about you like crazy."

"Really?" you asked. "What do you see when you think of me?"

Aki chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. "I see me and you – in that little black dress of yours – and the way your kisses tasted."

You felt a flush of warmth at his words, the intensity of your feelings bubbling up. "You probably shouldn't," you admitted. "You'll catch feelings."

"You're making it hard to stay focused on anything but you," Aki said, his voice growing more serious. 

You laughed softly. "You're good at this, you know. Making me feel like I'm the only person in the world."

"That's because you are," he said earnestly. "For me, anyway. Wanna talk about your day?"

You shifted in bed, pulling the blankets around you as if trying to draw closer to him through the phone. "I don't really feel like talking about it."

Aki's voice was tender and soothing. "That's fine. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?"

"I don't know," You sighed, the sound a mix of contentment and longing. You felt weak. "I just want to hear your voice. I need you."

"I need you too," he said, his voice softening. "I had a dream about you, you know? It felt like I was back in that hotel room with you again, watching you get ready to go home," A pause, then he added, "I should've made you miss that train."

You closed your eyes, letting the image of a shirtless Aki slipping into his work slacks flood your memory. "You're terrible."

He's one fine piece of ass.

Aki's laugh was deep and gentle, like the tides of the ocean tugging at the shore. "I am. I'm a terrible, rotten man, and it's all your fault. Have you been thinking about me, too?"

You glanced at the painting on the wall, feeling a pang of an emotion you couldn't quite place, "More than I'd like to admit."

"Hold on, I just heard something break in the kitchen. I think my nightmare roommate is up," Aki said. "I have to hang up. Promise you'll text and call more often, though. I've been worried sick."

"I promise," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your face flushed like you were a lovestruck schoolgirl. "Goodnight, Aki."

"Goodnight, troublemaker," he replied softly. "I'll be dreaming of you."

a/n: oh nooooooo... what do yall think is gonna happen? (i know, but yk....). but actually i hope you loved it, I loved writing sexy phone aki ugh it makes me wanna write more of him. I hope you all dont hate me too much for keeping them apart. (i'll make it up to u soon, trust.) anyway, QOTD: wyd if you were y/n? x

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

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