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draco-dormiens · 5 months

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THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Twenty Four / The Final Chapter

draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series

a/n: so. here we are - final chapter! i really hope i’ve done this ending justice. even got a bit emosh myself. i'd just like to say a HUGE thank you to everyone that has supported this fic, whether that be reading, interacting, sharing, anything. it's been a pleasure to post this story for you ♡ now... onto my next series idea!!

warnings: nothing really, just a tad bit emotional

wc: 2944

masterlist

taglist is now closed - i’ve officially run out of tags! thank you all

The Seventh Years Graduation

As from a dream, Draco woke with an air of blissfulness. His first morning with the girl he loved was cut short, a few messy kisses and promises of tomorrow before he was faced with the dark gates of his home once more. He was ready, more now than ever, to face the music that was his parents and their wishes for his pureblood marriage.

After leaving them in a whirl of confusion the night before, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't slightly dreading the look on his mother's face once he sees her again. Draco could hear her now, scolding him for allowing his family to be shamed yet again, could picture the disapproving look his father would give him from the corner of his eye. He swallows thickly, but with the courage you had planted in him, he entered the foyer to be greeted with absolute silence. It wasn't as if being greeted by an empty home was unusual, it was just that at this moment, the silence was practically deafening.

He hesitated in calling out, but figured it would be worse if they knew he'd come home and not seeked them out first thing after yesterday's fiasco. "Mother? Father?" He called, only to be met with the slight echo of his voice in the quietness. Not even the house elf seemed to respond, and so, he wandered, cautiously, through to the drawing room they would usually reside in. When he entered, it appeared as if someone was there, a pot of tea and half drunk cup on the coffee table and the Daily Prophet sprawled out beside it.

"Hello?" He calls again, coming to a halt before the paper. The headline read "A Joyous Occasion: Returning Students to Graduate", and a rather lengthy article where Headmistress McGonagall had stated how 'utterly elated' she was for the returning seventh years after such a 'stressful and sorrowful time.' Draco flicks through a few more pages, various columns advertising products and, of course, Skeeter's addition. He huffs at her attempts, as the doorway suddenly darkens behind him.

"Draco." Lucius's voice comes at a shock against the silence of the room, Draco spinning on the spot to see his father, who, upon inspection, looked tireder than ever, "you have returned, I see."

"Father," Draco clears his throat, "is mother around?"

"I'm afraid she is not," Lucius said, gracefully crossing the room in an expensive looking gown, "She is collecting her dress for the graduation."

"Ah. Right." Draco breathes, questioning how his mother has simply continued with her graduation preparations.

With a flick of his wand, Lucius summons another tea cup, and steam begins to rise from the teapot. "Sit," he instructs his son, "there is something I wish to tell you."

Draco does as he's told, already aware that his actions had perhaps caused his mother to have a breakdown and leave his father looking like sleep had escaped him for at least a month. Lucius pours two fresh cups, and sips at the warm brew with a little satisfied hum. Draco, as if a guest in his own home, follows suit, sitting uncomfortably on the end of the couch.

"Not long after your mother and I graduated," Lucius begins, "there was an awful lot of talk about the Dark Lord and his success in becoming immortal. It was getting more and more apparent that this man was gaining an insurmountable amount of power."

Draco remained silent as his father took a pause.

"I, young and influenced, believed that following this Dark Lord was the right and just thing to do. My family held the same beliefs, as did your mother's. Swearing allegiance to him, in my inexperienced mind, made utter sense. The things I was doing... made sense. But what I've come to realise, in my doing so, I have caused undeniable pain to those dearest to me." Lucius stops, and looks Draco in the eyes, "and to you, most of all, it would seem."

"Father, I-"

"I often wondered what you may do now that the war was over and Voldemort is dead. I had pictured you following the same beliefs, marrying a pureblood and having children. Perhaps I was naive to think that those events hadn't changed you... that those around you hadn't changed you." Lucius said, ignoring Dracos interception. He could see a slight sheen over his father's eyes for the first time in his life, "what's her name, Draco?"

"Huh?" Draco sounds, a little dumbfounded, "oh, you mean Y/N? I-it's Y/N Y/L/N."

"Half blood?" Lucius asks, sipping his tea as Draco swallows another lump in this throat.

"Yeah," he nods, looking down at his cup, "her father is a muggle."

"I see." Lucius says simply, placing down his cup and saucer, "and do you love her?"

Draco almost chokes. Never did he think his father would ask him such a question, but here he was, looking at him with all seriousness. Even so, Draco's answer is strong and quick.

"Yes," he said without a beat, "more than anything."

Lucius nods yet again and rises.

"Then there is no more to be said," he announced, clearing the table with another flick of his wand, "we shall have to meet after the graduation. Perhaps over dinner."

As his father begins to leave, Draco stands from the couch, gaining his father’s attention. Confusion and elation courses through his veins.

"Is that it?" Draco challenges softly, "you're not going to scold me? Shout at me?"

"Would you still pursue this girl if I did?" Lucius asks calmly, "would you listen if I forbid you from seeing her? Even if I locked you in the highest room of this house, you would find a way to her, would you not?"

"Do I need to answer that?" Draco raises an eyebrow, and his father chuckles. The sound of it was so foreign to Draco's ears.

"Then I rest my case," Lucius holds his hands up, "your mother and I have spoken at great lengths, Draco. Your disappearance last night proved one thing - we have no right to hold you down any longer. I dare say, if someone had kept me from your mother, I may have gone insane."

"I love her," Draco finds himself saying, "and I'm going to marry her, father. No one else."

Lucius is quiet for a long moment, before cracking a slight smile.

"You seem to have found yourself," he says as he walks towards the door, and his small smile disappears from his face, "perhaps we were too blind to notice the young man before us."

Banners, flags and all manner of decorations were adorning Hogwarts the morning of the graduation ceremony. Families from all over the county had congregated to join in with the celebrations, and the grounds were practically teeming with people.

Draco had owled to request you meet him before the ceremony began, to tell you about his meeting with Lucius. It was safe to say you were surprised to hear a more positive story, since he'd ran away and left his parents and the Greengrass's in the lurch. But Draco had reassured you that his father is a serious man - he wouldn't have said those things if he didn't mean them, and especially if his mother disagreed. "I haven't seen her but," he began, looking dashing in his robes of emerald green, "something tells me father spoke for the both of them."

Outside in the courtyard, students were to be seated in their houses, with families and friends seated behind. Important individuals within the wizarding community as well as representatives from the Ministry were also present. The Daily Prophet had photographers and journalists out, capturing the eventual graduation of the returning seventh years. As the moment approached, students began walking in their respective houses to their seats, you amongst the Ravenclaws clad in striking blue robes. From the corner of your eye, you spot the emerald green of the Slytherins walking in the same direction across the entrance hall, one particular student catching your eye as she elegantly drifted across the space, brown hair cascading down her back and heels clicking along the tiled floor.

As if carried by your feet before you could think, you made a beeline across the space.

"Astoria," you call out, and the girl stops at the sound of her name, head snapping in the direction of your voice, "can I speak to you a moment?"

"Y/N," she blinks, "can I... help you?"

For a moment you weren't sure what to say. Do you thank her for letting Draco follow his heart? Do you apologise that her marriage didn't go to plan, and that she has faced just as much heartache as you in all of this? Or do you simply wish her well? Many things flitted through your mind in that moment, but one thing was abundantly clear. Despite everything that had transpired, there didn't seem to be even a glint of disdain in her eyes.

"Well, I just-"

"If it's about Draco, you should know he made his own decision," she cuts you off, smiling at the small crowd of Slytherins entering the courtyard, Draco surely among them, "I simply realised I was an accomplice in his misery. The rest was his own heart telling him what to do."

"From my understanding, you were pivotal in Draco finding his strength," you said kindly, Astoria's pretty eyes looking at you as if she was sure Draco wouldn't ever mention her name again, "and for that, I'm forever thankful, Astoria. As well as deeply sorry for the mess I caused."

She shakes her head with a smile on her face. A light chuckle escaped her lips.

"Love isn't a crime, Y/N," she says softly, "for too long, I've lived in my parent’s shadow, following their ideals and wishes. If anything, Draco, and you, have taught me a lot about thinking with your own mind. It's true I would've married happily," she pauses briefly, "but it's a long time to be miserable, don't you think? Draco deserves better than that."

You go to speak, but nothing comes out. Words fail you in this moment, and Astoria takes your hand as the band outside begin to play the entrance music for the graduating students.

"There is no need for more words," she said, and you hold her hand back tightly, "all I ask is that you take care of him. Merlin knows he needs it. Now, what do you say we walk out together, hm? As a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin, for the last time."

Arm in arm, you emerge from the large doors and into the courtyard, following the groups of other students. The two of you split ways once arriving at your designated spots, and part with a smile. You find your place beside Luna, and settle in, a buzz of excitement and fresh, new beginnings in the air. Headmistress McGonagall rises to the lectern, as students, staff and guests all stand. A round of applause is made, and the ever elegant professor quieted the crowd with a gentle wave of a hand, urging everyone back into their seats.

"Thank you," she begins, her voice magically amplified, "It is my greatest pleasure, as Headmistress of our school, to see such wonderfully gifted pupils embark on their next chapter, not only as high achieving students, but as young men and women." She scans the crowd, and with a wipe of her handkerchief under both eyes, continues, "and most of all, it is an honour to send off those returning seventh years whose final year at Hogwarts was tainted by sorrow and loss, into greener and brighter pastures, as free witches and wizards. The world is indeed your oyster, and I expect great things from each and every one of you."

Professor Flitwick hurries along the stage, wand levitating a large pile of scrolls, each tied with a coloured ribbon of the students respective house, closely followed by Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Now," McGonagall announces, "as we call your name, house by house, please rise to collect your graduation certificate, prestigiously presented by our good Minister, Mr Shacklebolt."

Students from each house proudly took the stage and their graduation certificates, shaking hands with the Minister and posing for a photograph. Gryffindor first, then Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and eventually, Ravenclaw. As your name is called, with slight jelly legs and a nervous but exciting feeling in your stomach, you walk the aisle to the stage, passing the other houses. Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt hands a scroll to you, blue ribbon tied in the centre in a neat and perfect bow, and then shakes your hand in a firm but gentle way.

"Congratulations," he says quietly to you, as the camera takes a photograph your parents are no doubt planning on placing above the fireplace. You take the chance to look out over your fellow students and families, noticing your mother waving at you from the back rows. A small wave back and she's taking her own photos, and even from the stage you could see your father urging her to sit down so the others behind could see. Then, your eyes fall on the rows of emerald green, to a kind face, with white hair shining in the sun, and a smile that makes your knees a little weak.

He winks, and you can't help but feel flustered in front of the hundreds of faces looking up at you blushing like a schoolgirl.

"Thank you," you mutter to the Minister, and share a smile with the Headmistress as you head back to your seat. After a few words from Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt about courage, strength and the 'formidable force that is the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry', one final round of applause, and the chance to mingle begins. Your parents, mother crying and father trying to hide his emotion, are the first to find you. They chat with your professors, even the Minister, and mingle with other parents they know. Students you've known say their goodbyes and well wishes, as a little tap on your shoulder gains your attention.

"So, we've done it." Hermione says, clearly overtaken with emotion, "We've actually done it."

The two of you embrace, squealing with happiness. You hug one another tightly, evoking some tears in the process. It's been a long journey, but you've made it. From the war to your own trials and tribulations, you were both still standing. Together.

"I couldn't have made it through this year without you, 'Mione," you mumble through your tears, and you hear her giggle through hers, "I love you so much. Thank you. For everything."

She pulls back, resting her hands on your shoulders as she looks at you with adoration.

"You must stay in touch," she chokes up mid sentence, "promise me? Don't be stranger, for Merlin's sake. Tell Malfoy the same." You nod vigorously, "I love you too," she says sincerely, and then her eyes are fixed on someone behind you, "speak of the devil."

You turn on your heel to see Draco, handsome as ever in the green that so belongs on him, sheepishly waiting for you to notice his presence. Turning back to Hermione, she insists you go to him, and with one last hug, you cross the space between you. His smile grows wider the closer you get, and as soon as you're in touching distance, he takes your hand and presses a delicate kiss to your knuckles.

"You know," he begins, voice like silk, "blue really is your colour, my love."

A delightful chuckle escapes your lips, and within the next second, his other hand is cupping your jaw and bringing you in for a passionate kiss. He doesn't seem to care that hundreds of students and families surround you, including his own. All he cares about is this moment, and this declaration of his love for you. As you part, he remains close, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"I love you, darling," he whispers to you, only for you to hear, and wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

"I love you, Draco." Your voice is barely audible, but he catches it, and a toothy grin spreads across his face.

"Well then?" he then extends his arm to you, "it's time for the boats, my lady.”

With your arm laced in his, family and friends watching from the courtyard archways, the seventh years descend the stairs to the boat house for the last time, reminiscing about the first time they wandered up those same stairs to the sorting ceremony. Not many words are exchanged between you; emotions are high and his touch is enough, but as you collect on the docks of the boat house, Hermione comes to stand beside you. You take her hand, and the three of you look up towards the castle that's been your second home for eight years now.

"Shall we?" you look between them both, and you share a silent agreement, stepping onto the boat together, symbolising the start of a new beginning, and the end of an era. As the boat is pushed from the shore, your hands are still intertwined, and your arm is still tightly around Draco's arm. If you had pictured your last trip across the Black Lake like this, you would've thought some very strange twist of fate was at play; in fact, it must be. Taking one last look back at the castle that becomes smaller and smaller the further away you get, you think how you've found many things during your time as a Ravenclaw. Friendships, courage, knowledge, and even love. Isn't it funny, you think to yourself. How life plays out, how the universe works.

How true happiness can be found…

In the strangest of places.

disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story

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aventurinemylove · 1 year

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FIRST TIME REQUESTING! So I have no clue if you're okay with what I'm ganna ask?

May I ask for a angst to fluff. (Only if you're okay with both in the request! unless you want it to be full angst) Like where reader/ y/n is near death (again only if your okay with it) wiith Dazai and Chuuya. (If you wish to add another one that's your choice!) It can be either a headcanon or short fic. Whichever one your more confterble with!

(Ps I love your smau au!)

Have a nice day/night/afternoon (it's 3:10 a.m for me 💀) but anyways if you can't accept my request I understand! But take care of yourself. ♡

A/n- OMG YOU DONT KNOW HOW FAST I GOT UP AND STARTED WRITING TYSM FOR THE REQ OMG AND IM GLAD YOU LIKE THE SMAU😭🫶

Close call

Dazai x reader and chuuya x reader (separate)

Genre-angst and fluff

Warnings- heavy topics, torture, blood, mori…

Songs to listen-skyfall adele,I bet on losing dogs mitski,francis forever mitski

Osamu Dazai

You were sent on a mission by yourself by Fukuzawa to gather information on a rival organization. You knew the risks of this but you were willing to risk it To give the Ada any type of advantage. Before your mission dazai told you to be more cautious about everyone and everything, he had a pitiful feeling in his stomach..the same feeling when he lost his dear friend, which left him wondering if his past finally catching up to him?

Ever since you left the feeling only got worse and worse, he couldn’t take it anymore it was eating him alive he felt a sense of guilt, and for the first time in year, he felt fear..? Something might have happens to you..days without contact or even texts all his texts were delivered you never left him on delivered. He couldn't take it anymore and decided he will look for you himself.

Meanwhile, you haven't texted Dazai due to leaving your work phone at the ADA in order to not cause any suspicion between you and your new boss however you couldn't stay like this forever he saw you rummaging through classified files which ended up with you having to reveal your identity causing you to fight. What surprised you was the ambush from behind which ended up with u getting stabbed in the chest and losing conscious.

Once he got there he was late...your body on the ground bleeding profusely, he couldn't believe it he failed you. The person he vowed to serve and protect you only to fail you. His heart aches at seeing you so motionless so still. He couldn't even form a word he couldn't even stand on his feet. “You're not gone [name] right..” his voice filled with sorrow and disbelief. If only he came earlier..he could've prevented this he wouldn’t have lost you.

He ran to your body and held it..for the first time in years he couldn’t mask his emotions how could he..you were special to him the only one keeping on this ground, but now that your gone he has no will to live no reason to be here. “[name] I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, you didn’t deserve this awful fate my love..I’m sorry”. You were still conscious you heard everything how u you wish you can tell him “everything’s going to be okay” but honestly not even you knew if your going to make it”

Dazai held u so close running towards the nearest hospital he could find without any second thought begging every doctor to treat you before it was to late. He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were unconscious, atsushi brought Dazai food and made sure to give him company and any ounce of hope he had.

It was almost a month since that event you haven’t woken up not even once…this left Dazai terrified he only thought of the worst outcome. Though before u hit one month of being unconscious you woke up, every emotion hitting you but the one hitting you the most was shock and fear. You couldn't believe you were alive, and you also wondered who brought you to the hospital but soon realization and memories hit you. Dazai found you laying unconscious, you couldn't help but have guilt. Your poor husband finding you unconscious and unresponsive was a horror to think about.

You were so deep in thought you didn't notice Dazai practically tugging you into a hug crying his eyes out on your shoulder. [name] my love I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you, I'm sorry I failed you I was so scared, I was so scared of you leaving me like everyone” he said between broken sobs. “Dazai dear I'm sorry for being so careless I really should've seen it coming” you say through your tears.

To say the least, dazai is happy you're alive and that's all that matters to him.

Nakahara Chuuya

You and Gin were sent on a mission personally requested by Mori, which was odd since usually, he would have you take missions with Chuuya since he had his suspicions here and there. You always found your boss “odd” he always figured out things even he was told which was a scary thought.

On the mission, you were told to play a fair person and your objective was to woe the victim over and that's when Gin strikes. Though it was easier said than done, during the night you felt like something was coming for you or that you were being watched but you pushed your thoughts away for the sake of the mission. You found something quite odd about your victim he looks like a former mafia member though you've never seen him, you feel like his name was mentioned somewhere.

Fortunately, before the night ended you got the victim to think that you were an innocent person trying to get help from him for your company on how to grow it etc. But he knew you were from the mafia he had his eyes on you ever since you stepped in, he knew Mori would send an executive to assassinate him during this party. You had a feeling that your facade was seen through like clear glass, which made the gut feeling start to tell you “leave” or “go home” but you knew being in the mafia your life was always on risk.

Chuuya on the other hand was sweating and shaking something was telling him to watch over you that night, he had a feeling Mori had some plan since usually he would send him with you and no one else. So while you and Gin were on your way to the party he followed you guys but decided to stay hidden until he felt he was needed.

You were unexpectedly brought a handkerchief to your mouth making you pass out. Otherwise, Gin was concerned about what could have happened to you, you weren't giving her any sign to strike..unless the struck first which had her panicking since she also didn't see the host anywhere. She Knew something was wrong, so through her headset she let everyone know “Code red, our executive is missing”. Just hearing this made Chuuya jump and head to the party area before he knew it, he was frantically searching for you everywhere in the area but had no luck he couldn't find you and this made him more frustrated he couldn't believe he took his eyes off you for a bit and you were MISSING.

It was days maybe 3 days since the incident they had you tied to a chair with handcuffs tied to both hands making it impossible to use your ability. You were so beat up all these days tortured just for some information you didn't have. “Now where is that supply box” he spoke, another hit towards your ribs but you stayed silent. “OH SO WE ARE GONNA PLAY THE SILENT GAME ARE WE?!” he says but before you were hit again the doors of the area were crushed open before you knew it Gin ran to you and untied you, and carried you to the truck where they already had a medical professional on board.

Meanwhile, chuuya made sure this man was dead and he made sure that he paid for what he did to you. Chuuya had rage in him, the state he found you in made me sick and sad, how could this asshole do this to you. After his job was chuuya got back to the truck where the doctor talked to him. “Sir they will be unconscious for a few days maybe a few hours if lucky but they had a few broken ribs and a few bruises to the head”. He couldn't believe what he heard, he felt the rage he had earlier come back to him, but he kept his composer just nodded to the doctor.

He was now facing you he felt his heart shatter to 100 pieces the pain and guilt he felt was eating him alive. “If only I got there earlier” or “I should've taken the mission but compared to other missions this was one of the least dangerous. He knelt near your bed while holding your hand slowly letting the tears down.

After 3 days you finally open your eyes looking around the unfamiliar room it looked nothing like the mafia hospital room which relieved you, you didn't have to deal with mori and his annoying overbearing antics, how u hated him and wanted someone to take his spot.

While lost in thought u turn to see flowers and a note on the bedside, you grabbed them smiling to yourself already knowing who it was. As you looked at the flowers you open the note slightly smiling as you read. “My dearest [name] I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you as I vowed to you I will, so after you feel better let me take you out to eat, sincerely yours Chuuya Nakahara” but before you finished you saw the end “ps I’ll visit you later I'm on a mission right now”. You never knew how you got lucky with such a man but honestly, it did take you guys a while to be where you are at right now.

Later…

You were sitting down reading a book when you heard the hospital door bust open, at first you thought it was an enemy attack but you were relieved to see Chuuya at the door with a little box at hand. “My love” you heard Chuuya speak “I got you this,” he says as he gives you the box. You were shocked, to be honest, you weren't expecting anything so when u recognized the jewelry box you began to cheer up. “Thank you dear you didn't have to,” you say smiling at him while opening the box, to your surprise there was a gorgeous necklace that you'd been wanting for a while but couldn't get your hands on it, so it was surprising to see Chuuya get ahold of such an item.

You felt your eyes start to tear up as you pulled Chuuya into a tight hug and whispered “Thank you my love I couldn't ask for someone more amazing than you”. Chuuya was surprised by your sudden action but didn't complain at all. “My love I'm sorry for not being there on time,” Chuuya said his voice cracking “If maybe I was there earlier this could've been avoided”. “Chuuya it's ok, I'm fine I'm here with you look on the bright side at least we got him” you say softly.

Chuuya knew you were right, he was just happy you were alive and with him still.

#bsd x reader #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #chuuyabsd #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader

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anonymousauthorsblog · 24 days

Text

Turning Passions

chapter 13 • comforting peace

this chapter contains writing

lowercase intended

care for you - the marías

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3rd person pov

y/n walks up to the door before taking a step back, she stops in her tracks before fully realizing where’s she’s at and how blunt she was with her texts. “what the fuck” she repeats in her head trying to contain her emotions. she looks around trying to understand herself. she’s at a boys dorm, not to mention a boy that she’s only known for a little while. she takes another step back away from the door, trying to put the common sense back in her head before hearing the door open. “y/n?” megumi says in a low voice. “you can come in you know..” he continues. y/n turns around caught off guard, she puts on a awkward smile nodding her head before heading through the door that megumi is now holding open for her. megumi then leads y/n into his room, sitting down on his bed- patting his hand motioning to sit right next to him. y/n cautiously strides over hesitating with her stuff still in hand, gently taking a seat next to him. megumi carefully takes a hold of y/n’s bag, “may i?” he questions before grabbing it fully and putting it aside, when getting the small approval from the girl. after the two of them sit in silence for a while before y/n breaks. “sorry, i uh shouldn’t of just barged in” she says rubbing her arm. megumi shakes his head before saying “it’s all good, im here for you anytime” y/n nods before awkwardly starting the conversation. “sorry i was in a mood today too, it’s just been difficult with dance and stuff.” megumi nods trying to be comforting enough while adding onto the ballerinas vent, “yeah didn’t you say you had to audition… again?” y/n laughs in disbelief- while shaking her head side to side. nothing in this situation is funny, but it’s laughable to see where this situation took her. she then nods her head before looking down “yeah, how stupid is that?” she asks. megumi hums in response making sure to let the girl know that she’s being listened to, “so uh how was the audition” megumi questions future hopefully trying to help the girl out to continue on. y/n stops letting a moment pass, the silent air becoming full of tension from the awkward conversation. she takes a deep breath in before saying, “well i officially have the part, but i’ll always be just an mediocre dancer” y/n sighs before she snaps looking straight into megumis eyes, “i mean i’ve trained my whole life to go to this school, to have this as my profession, to be an amazing dancer- but to have it bite me in the ass at the end. fucking worthless huh?” the girl drops her head into her hands groaning as she continues, “every day, second, minute i’ve been focusing on dance. this is something i love- something i live for. and you’re telling me i got played over and over again? they dangle a cord in my face and expect me to go and fish for it again and again?” y/n then looks up before finishing with her voice becoming raw “i’ve put in my blood sweat and tears for years, just to be a simple dancer with no more to offer.” megumi is shocked from the sudden outburst but closely listening. he starts feeling irritated and frustrated for the girl who’s blooming out of sorrow on his bed. he usually is awful at comforting people in any situation- it’s usually awkward between him and anyone that’s trying to vent. but for the first time his hands are moving faster then he can think and he’s hugging y/n. his arms wrap around her protectively, “y/n… I.” “i might not have the right words that you want to hear but i can promise you that you’re an fantastic dancer… if they can’t see it please everyone else can. i know i haven’t see you in action before but i can only imagine how magical you look because of the tremendous work you put in” the room falls into silence, the comforting touch only lingering in the room making the world feel like it’s on fire. y/n shifts forward before whispering a small “thank you megumi”

megumi nods in response before removing himself from the short intimate interaction, megumi hesitates before sharing, “you know i can sort of understand your struggle.” y/n whips over to lock eyes with megumi cranking her head to the side before replying “huh how?” megumi sighs out “uh with my channel i guess. i mean this might sound stupid but i always have doubts like about the future and how this level of new fame can get out of hand” y/n stops before questioning “well do you like gaming?” megumi stops before answering, hand reaching for his neck “well i like gaming with like my friends- i mean yuji was the one that introduced me to it. but if im being honest its kind of scary you know- hundreds of random people knowing everything about you” y/n nods signaling for the dark eyed blue boy to continue, “it’s just that sometimes im scared im not enough- i mean yuji and nobara are naturals at this and i feel like im just- me. like im not good enough to continue you know?” y/n listens attentively, ready to add on her opinion “well megumi not being bias because your my friend but your a natural at what you’re doing too, that’s why you have so many fans, people love watching you for being you and if you love the things you’re doing i think it’s a sign that you’re doing everything right” megumi lets out a small chuckle replying to the girl “yeah, that’s true” he pauses “i guess we have a lot in common” they both smile at each other, sitting down enjoying each others presence before megumis phone starts to blow up with text. y/n looks down before getting up grabbing her bag, “well i think that’s a sign for me to go, thank you again megumi.” megumi lets out a scoff of annoyance before getting up agreeing and walking y/n out. the both share their farewells, and leave the night to rest.

megumi walks back to his room grabbing his phone, pissed. he pouts as it was the sight of the problem and made y/n leave. he sits on his bed grabbing his phone, looking for the source that created this while ideal. he unlocks it but notices something different about himself, his heart. this time after his hangout with his friend his heart seems to paste with speed, bumping faster then usual. it feels like a different speed from anxiety, but something different like when he would be in line for a new copy of a book he liked or the excitement he got when he passed a hard test. this feeling was weird but something he didn’t hate.

authors note:

hello, hello! welcome backkkk! today we’re going through megumis and y/n trauma!! (fun right??) anyways i hoped you guys enjoyed this chapter and i can’t wait for our next one! (will be more happier i promise) but anyways byyeee!!

*anyone catch megumis heart raising? is he catching feelings or??? we will never know 😈*

fun facts:

• yuji found out that y/n was there because he recognized her shoes out by the door.

• megumi has an hard time opening up to people, but he felt safe enough to do so with y/n

• y/n got scolded and questioned by toge and maki when she got home for being out so late (and on a school night???)

• after nobara said “book cafe” megumi didn’t care what they were doing but he knew he would be involved with the different books!

tag list! :

@catobsessedlady @prettynai @notveevee @1l-ynn @xcalkenf @heyheyitsurdaily @aceakariii @meltedoctopie @hannahgcherry @juliiizh @domainexpansi0n @makeshiftproject

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scarredwithcruelintentions · 5 months

Text

chapter 7: sorrowful lash

Find the master list here!

CW: Allusions to past trauma.

W/C: 1,835

A/N: A shorter chapter this time.

Astarion rolled over, a pain unlike any he’d experienced in his two hundred years as a spawn cleaving his skull. He recognized the symptoms of a hangover, shocked to find that he could still develop one as a vampire. Though, he supposed he had drunk quite a bit to numb the shocking sting of your rejection. He moaned his discomfort, blinking blearily against the sun’s rays penetrating his tent as he sat up. He gave himself a moment to gather his bearings and then parted its flaps, wincing at the sudden increase in brightness.

Looking around the grounds, he was surprised to find them all but deserted. He could hear Karlach humming somewhere nearby, and smelled the unnaturally dark ozone of Gale on the breeze. He could not, however, find anything more than the faint fragrance of you that lingered on your belongings. It appeared as though you’d left for the day, and a sense of panic washed over him as the events of the evening prior came to the forefront of his mind.

Gods, what have I done? I’ve ruined it!

He caught sight of Karlach in his peripheral vision, head whipping around to glare at her.

“Where’ve they gone?” he snapped, voice harsher than he’d meant it to be.

“Aw, cheer up, Soldier! She’ll be back before you know it,” she chirped with a grin, taking no offense at his sour tone.

“And just what in the bloody Hells is that supposed to mean?” he snarled, bristling with embarrassment at her knowing expression.

“You’re daft if you truly believe we don’t all see it, Astarion,” was all she said in response, bright smile still residing on her face. She continued her trek onward, whistling a jaunty tune.

“That’s not a damn answer!” he shouted after her.

She only continued to whistle as she walked out of his line of sight.

He huffed his annoyance, then retreated back into his tent, yanking the furs of his bedroll up over his head.

Apparently, it was to be another very long and arduous day. ______________________________________________________________

The next time he popped his head out, the dusk was already losing its battle for the sky to the blanket of night. He was relieved to see Shadowheart and Lae’zel making nice over a shared meal, Wyll laughing heartily with Gale as Karlach told impassioned tales of her adventures in the Hells. His eyes continued to scan the campgrounds, looking for any sign of you and finding none. He could smell that you’d made it back, but could not locate your whereabouts among the other companions. A warning bell tolled in his mind, anxiety tightening its chokehold on his unbeating heart.

He crept silently from his tent, following your scent as it gradually intensified. He found you sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree by the riverbank, knees drawn to your chest and arms hugging them close. He marveled at the glow of the waxing moon on your skin, sleeves of your nightdress falling to expose your shoulders. Your hair rippled gently with the breeze, reminding him of the water as it ran over and between hidden stones. You gazed out into the waiting darkness, eerily silent.

“I’d ask if you wanted company, but I doubt you’ve come all the way out here to find it,” he called out, grimacing guiltily when you startled.

When the frantic beating of your heart had slowed to a normal pace again, he took stock of your expression. There was a weary mournfulness burdening your gaze, and he was briefly arrested in his movement by just how terribly sad you looked. You said nothing, but moved to make room for him to sit next to you.

“Just needed some space to think, ‘s all,” you whispered, voice strangely devoid of emotion.

He wrung his hands uneasily, a million worries about what might have caused your strife darting through his mind.

“About last night -” he began, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“I don’t need apologies. As I’ve said before, it’s not you. Yours was far from the first bed I’d declined at the party.”

That drove an unwitting chuckle from him, quickly hushing himself at the unimpressed raise of your brow.

“I may have overheard several…propositions, shall we say, for a night of shared ecstasy,” he explained.

You cracked a small smile, momentarily loosening the grip around his heart.

“Eavesdropping, were you?” you questioned, amusement plain.

“Perhaps,” was his only reply.

You looked away again, staring unseeingly at the horizon.

Without turning to address him directly, you asked in a cold, distant tone, “Then why did you try your luck? What makes you think you’re any different?”

The grip around his heart tightened once again, breath catching in his throat and dizzying him with its sudden ferocity. Words failed him as a sense of burning shame enveloped him.

“I see the way each one of you looks at me. Admiration, adoration, idolatry…lust. As though I’m something to be consumed, a bottomless well of giving. A savior from your many sins. Have I not my own to atone for as well? Am I not due an ounce of respect for all I’ve sacrificed to get us this far?”

Though your words carried the weight of long held anger, they fell from your lips with a lifeless monotony. He hastily opened his mouth - to explain or apologize, he knew not which - but you began to speak again.

“I suppose it matters not. I am whatever I am perceived to be. No more, no less.”

A haunting echo of his own emotions reverberated dully within his skull; he knew this pain. Had lived with it for too long himself. He lost himself in the roar of agony between his ears for a time, startling when he heard a quiet sniffle.

“Forgive me,” you whispered, breath hiccupping with sorrow.

Finding his voice, he murmured, “Dearest, there is nothing to forgive. It is I who should be asking your forgiveness, once again. I would lie and say it was the wine talking, but I find that I can’t when it comes to you.”

He was surprised by his own honesty, words falling from him with an ease he was unaware he possessed. You turned to look at him shrewdly, tears spilling as you narrowed your eyes to discern his truthfulness. You said nothing, wordlessly urging him to continue. He took a shaking breath, steadying himself.

“You have shown me kindness unlike anyone I’ve met in the whole of my life, both before I was turned and after. You have no expectations of me, have given me no reason to believe that your motives lie elsewhere. You are simply lovely, just for the sake of being so.

I, too, have been wanted for things I was unprepared to give, and have been forced to give them anyway. It is a burden I would not wish upon anyone, least of all you. So, please, forgive me. I am not well versed in matters of sentient interaction beyond those of carnal depravity.”

You sucked in a gasping breath as he finished his monologue, and he turned sharply to look at you just as a great sob pushed past your lips. An icy shard of dread punched through him at the sound, fearful he’d said something wrong yet again. He watched your hands twist in the fabric of your nightdress just over your heart, clawing as though you could rip the wretched thing from your chest just so that this torment, whatever it may be, might end.

“Have I done it wrong again?” he whispered, nerves making his voice tremble.

You only cried harder, despair leaking freely from you and into the recesses of his soul, a reflection of your pain mirrored in him with its intensity. He was at a loss as to how to comfort you, never having seen you so distraught. Something urged him to reach out to you, to hold you and pet through the strands of your hair soothingly until you quieted. But another voice, louder and more ominous, told him that he should not touch you just yet. It screamed that you knew exactly of what he spoke, knew it in a way he dared not fathom.

He began to hum the lament of yours that he so loved, unsurely at first, then with more fervor. It had helped him in his darkest moment of weakness; he could only hope that it would help you much the same. Your fitful sobs gradually turned into hiccups, sniffles and then silence as you came back to yourself, listening intently to your favored tune whispered back to you. You eventually reached out to clasp his hand in yours, placing a sweet kiss on the back of it in thanks.

You gestured at the space between you and him, asking quietly, “May I?”

He wordlessly held his arm aloft, inviting you to sidle closer as he continued to hum your song. You folded into his arms, resting your head against his chest to feel the rumble of his voice. He reached a hand up and into your soft tresses, blunt nails scraping along your scalp as he sang the last phrase. A contented silence fell in its wake, one hand running idly through your hair as you held the other.

You eventually broke it with a quiet apology.

“Whatever are you sorry for now, my sweet?” he murmured, continuing his slow, soothing ministrations.

“That you’ve been used that way,” you whispered back, cautious of breaking the fragile moment.

“Ah, that. Think nothing of it, darling. If anything, it’s taught me to cherish these moments of freedom all the more.”

“Nonetheless, it’s an awful burden to carry,” you responded forlornly.

“It is one of many that weighs on me, but it is far from the worst,” he intoned, voice bitter and solemn.

“I am always here to lend an ear, should you ever need it, dear Star.”

“Perhaps one day,” he answered, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

The lull in conversation preceded another blanket of comfortable silence, and he listened to the sound of your breath mingled with the night ambiance. It was serene, startlingly so, to hold you close and offer you the same sanctuary you’d given him so freely. An uncharacteristic tenderness overwhelmed him, and he clutched you ever so slightly tighter, as though this beautiful dream were liable to shatter around him at any moment.

You cleared your throat, breaking the silence for a final time.

“We found the gith creche today. I’m taking Lae and Shadowheart with me tomorrow to infiltrate it. Lae insists that the zaith’isk will cure us, but I have my reservations. Besides, I found a reference as to the Blood of Lathander’s whereabouts, and I have reason to believe it might be hidden somewhere in the temple the gith commandeered. Would you like to join us and cause some chaos?”

“My dear, there’s nothing I’d love more.”

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violentvaleska · 1 year

Text

𝑨𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᵒᵇˢᵉˢˢⁱᵒⁿ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ!ᴛɪᴍ ᴅʀᴀᴋᴇ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴛʜɪɴɢs ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪᴍ. ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀsᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴀɴɢsᴛ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ʙʀᴜᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ, sᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ, ᴋɪᴅɴᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ, sᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴜɢɢɪɴɢ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏᴘɪᴄs

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs: ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ

ᴀ/ɴ: sᴏ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ғᴏʀ ɴᴏᴡ! ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ᴛʜɪs sᴏᴍᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴅᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴊᴜsᴛ ʏᴇᴛ >-< ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ <3

@keira324 @msfantasy

It was strange how time has changed things for you. You had hour long talks with Tim and just after a few weeks you saw his point of things completely clear. He wants to protect you, provide for you as long as you are in danger. And you are.

Just a few days ago you watched the news for the first time after months. You stopped doing so when Scarecrow kidnapped you, it pained you to watch all the negatively happening around you. But this specific day you did anyways, wondering what was happening around Gotham. "Doctor Jonathan Crane, alias the Scarecrow, has committed to setting (Y/N) (Y/L/N) apartment complex on fire, stating that he didn't know that she hasn't been seen for at least two months." The news reporter said in a cold voice, void of any empathy. "Crane planned on killing the student of Gotham U-" it was Tim who took the remote and turned off the TV, your shocked posture made it clear that you weren't able to do it yourself.

"I told you, you were in danger." He spoke softly and took your hand into his, caressing it carefully. He made you realize the danger you were in, opened your eyes. Tim is not the enemy, it's the Scarecrow.

You snuggle yourself deeper into his muscular arms and close your eyes, sighting in relief. Scarecrow can't hurt you when you're with Tim, he keeps you safe and protected, makes sure that your sorrowful life is easier to bear with him on your side. He's treating you like a goddess, fulfilling every wish of yours. You don't even have the desire to leave anymore, the bubble he created for the two of you is too beautiful to pop anyways.

"I love you." The three words leave your lips and you nervously hide in his embrace. You realized it yesterday, after he cooked you your favorite dish. The caring and selfless love you have received from the young man slowly melted into your heart and you knew from this moment that Red Robin or Tim Drake was more than a stupid crush to you. The dark haired man stiffens under you in surprise and you notice how his eyes open in a rapid motion. "You mean it?" He asks and slightly stutters, while his arms slowly but noticeably tighten around your form.

"Yes." You whisper, turning your head to look him in the eyes. "I mean it with all my heart."

Tim slightly sits up, carefully pushing you into a sitting position as well. His pupils widen, while he looks at you in awe, his lips moving faster than he is able to think. "I love you too." It's barely a whisper that escapes him, but you heard him anyway and you lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. It's not the first time that the two of you shared one, but this time is different nonetheless, this time you actually feel ecstatic. He deepens the kiss, his tongue slowly and carefully begging for entrance, which makes you spread open your lips a bit. His hands slowly move from your back down your waist and you move closer into his touch, sighting at the feeling. Tim softly bites down onto your lip, his grip tightening around you, it's a surprise, a good one that is. You look at him through your lashes, while he pulls his head back, giving the two of you enough room to breathe. Darkness has taken over his eyes and a few weeks earlier it would have scared you, but now you see the beauty in them, the real him. The way he lusts for you makes you feel excitement and little butterflies in your abdomen. Swiftly he turns the two of you, pressing your form into the soft cushion behind you, while his lips catch the sensitive skin on your exposed neck. Eyes fluttering, you open your mouth and grip his hair, the sudden sensation taking over you.

He goes down on you all the way, his body pressing flatly against yours, while his lips move all over your body. Tim is eager to please you; his one and only. It's like all his most inappropriate dreams come true all of a sudden and he feels his member stiffen in his pants. You seem to notice as well, your breath hitching once again when his pelvis touches your leg shortly after. His touch feels like a bliss to you and you can't help yourself, running your fingers along his sides, feeling his muscles clench up under your palms. This time he doesn’t try to stop himself from groaning out loud, letting out a low chuckle as he leans forward, planting kisses from one side of your neck to the other. It makes your stomach twist with pleasure and you run your hands through his silky black hair, pulling gently on it, encouraging him on. He does so eagerly, sucking and nipping your collar bone, making you gasp in delight. He pulls away briefly and places a quick peck to your neck before returning to his duty.; pleasing you.

It doesn't take long for the two of you to wiggle out of your clothes, passionately gripping, kissing and touching each other. Your hips rock upwards against his, causing Tim to bite his lip in concentration, his fingers digging into the mattress beneath him. "Can I take you, please?" He practically begs for your consent and when you breathe out a low "yes" he lines up with your entrance eagerly. Slowly he enters, his entire body shuddering in bliss, causing both of you to gasp. A few moments later he finally settles down, burying his face in your shoulder to muffle his cries. After several minutes he finally relaxes and you start to stroke his back soothingly."You're amazing." He murmurs against your skin, placing small love bites all over your neck. Your nails scratch his back perfectly, while he starts to move inside of you. Your breathing gets heavier and your moans become louder and louder. He takes the opportunity to lick and kiss his way back up your neck and finally to your lips once more, kissing you deeply and passionately, leaving nothing between you.Tim is a very talented lover, he knows exactly how to please you and how to leave you wanting for more.

While he started off passionate and slow, his movements are much more harsh now. His heavily panting, knocking your breath out with the way he pushes harder and deeper. You can't help but let out soft moans and gasps whenever he enters you, causing him to growl with pleasure and pull back for just a moment, making eye contact with you as he continues thrusting into you. Your fingers continue to massage his back as he thrusts his hips forward. "You're mine." He groans suddenly, gripping your shoulders tightly. His dark eyes allow no protest as he snaps his hips against yours. You moan loudly, arching your back and trying to match his pace. He continues to thrust in and out of you roughly and he starts growling as his climax comes closer. In an instant you're both shaking and gasping for breath, unable to control your heavy breaths any longer. You feel him twitch inside you, a warm sensation filling you up as a gasp of shock escapes you.

"God I love you." He whispers and rolls himself off you, his breath heavy and droplets of sweat run down his forehead.

"I love you too." You smile, taking his hand into his. The tiredness is written into his face and you sit up, giving him a quick kiss. "Try to get some sleep." He is about to protest, but you simply hush him with the movement of your finger. "I'll cook us dinner and you get some rest." You promise and brush the blanket over his form, pegging his cheek goodbye and close the door when you leave to the kitchen.

It's been a while that you cooked all alone, usually Tim is the chef and you are his little assistant. While you do enjoy the shared time you do like being able to do something good for him now and again too. It fills you with happiness and you smile while you turn on the headphones Tim got you and slightly start to sway to the music. You decide on cooking a simple pasta recipe, something easy but enjoyable. It's when you turn your body sideways when you notice a silhouette close to the balcony door. Thinking it is your loving Red Robin, you turn with a seductive smile, but when you take sight of a stranger instead a surprised scream escapes you. A man, dark haired and green eyed looks at you with astonishment, brows raised into a frown. You rip down your headphones and quickly grab for a kitchen knife, loudly calling out for Tim.

"Who are you?" You ask concerned and a little bit scared, hiding behind the counter to protect yourself from the bulky man. "Hey calm down. I'm Jason, Tim's-" he gets interrupted by the black haired young man, rushing out of the bedroom in just his boxers on. "What are you doing here?" He hisses like a snake and walks up to you, taking the knife from your hands. You thought that he might take it to defend himself from the stranger, but instead he places it back on the counter, taking a few steps into the man's direction. "We were worried about you. B told me to check on you." The man's eyes then wander straight to you. "What I'm actually surprised about is her."

"Jason-"

"No Tim, why the fuck is she here? She has been missing for months!" Jason argues and gestures at you, your expression changing. You haven't seen anyone for months, other than Tim of course. "She's with me, okay? Why do you bother?" Tim rolls his eyes and protectively pulls you closer, eying him critically. "I bother because her parents think that her body has been ditched in the fucking river, Tim!" He raises his voice, walking up to both of them. The mentioning of your parents lets a cold shower run down your back. They may not always have been there for you, but they did show you affection. You swallow and look down, unsure about what you should feel. The first few days you did think a lot about your family and friends. But Tim has become all of that for you now, he even convinced you to stop studying for a while, making sure that you found better activities. Your new life is protected and safe, not like your old one.

"Yeah but she's good! In fact she feels even better than before. Don't you?" He turns for you, asking for your agreement. You simply not your head, avoiding both of their gazes. Jason shakes his head and presses a small button on his device.

"I've found the lost girl. (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She's with Tim." Jason speaks, side eyeing the strange couple. You are not able to understand the voice on the other side, but you know that it can't mean anything good, just from Tims reaction. He noticeably pales, squeezing you tighter against his form.

"Let go of her. Let her go home." The man begs and reaches his hand out for her. "No." Tim insists angrily, his fingers digging into your arms. "You can always visit her Timbers, go on dates with her. But you need to let her come with me." You look up at Tim, confused and sad. Jason is right, the both of you could always meet up, nothing would have to change.

"You'd only tell the GCPD that I did it." Tim snarls, a bitter tone in his voice as he seemingly looks right through Jason, his eyes peering with newfound hatred. You have never seen him like that and it kind of makes you feel sick to the stomach. "I won't." You can tell that Jason is not lying, is being honest. He turns his attention to you, looking at you pleading.

"Tim." A soft whisper escapes you, earning the beautiful boy's attention back. "I'll officially move back in with you. Just let me talk this out with my parents and the GCPD, okay? We'll tell them that Red Robin saved me again." You try to reason with him and even though his features soften at your suggestion, he shakes his head in disagreement. "No you won't come back to me if I let you go." His voice cracks and he looks down avoiding your eyes. "But Tim-" "Shut up!" His sudden rage directed at you comes to your surprise and you take a step back, carefully observing his rigid form. "You're lying. I can see it." He spits and gestures at you, furiously pointing his finger at you.

"That's not true!" You are close to tears, not noticing how Tim moves closer with a balked fist, his body full of uncontrolled rage. Jason moves closer too, quietly observing his adoptive brother. "You'll be gone the moment you leave with him. And if I can't have you-" he's shaking now, his originally oh so beautiful face full of emotions. "-nobody can." Before you are able to register his threat Jason has already taken control of the situation, pulling Tim into a tight grip. The younger screams in agony and tries to free himself from Jason's grip, but the green eyed man is stronger and faster, pulling a syringe from his pocket. You flinch at the sight of it and put a distance between yourself and the object; a new fear unlocked.

A second later Tim freezes, his moving body suddenly stilling. You see him closing his eyes and a moment later he collapses in Jason's hug, losing grip of reality. The man places him carefully on the floor, looking at you with concern.

"Are you alright?" He asks and checks for Tim's pulse, making sure that everything is normal. He did drug him after all. "Yeah. I guess." You speak quietly and look at Tim, small droplets of tears running down your cheek. "I don't understand. He was so nice and sweet just an hour ago-" you break down, crying at the sickening feeling. "Hey, hush." Jason rushes to your side, trying to comfort you. "Trust me, this is a surprise for the both of us." He admits and pats your shoulder, helping you up on your feet back again. "You're safe now."

After that you didn't see Tim for a while. His father, Bruce Wayne, managed to get him secretly into Arkham. "Mental breakdown due to stress" is the official statement. You know the real reason, the truth. It's you, he's that way because of you. You moved back in with your parents and tried to live a normal life ever since. But you can't get him out of your head, having the urge to visit him at Arkham. You miss the love he treated you with and ignore the moments where he hurt you. It's after three weeks that you finally make your move, three weeks of desperately waiting and suffering. You sit down on the uncomfortable chair looking straight ahead, right into his beautiful eyes. They appear to be empty and you hope that the class barrier between the two of you is at fault.

"Hi." You breathe out with a sad smile. You notice his eyes roaming over your form, his body tense and weak. He appears to be tired and numb, only giving you a small nod of his head. "I miss you so much Tim. I try to visit more often now that they gave me permission to do so." You explain and wait for him to answer. The sight of him makes you shiver with sadness and you swallow down a lump that has formed in your throat. "That's nice." His voice sounds sick and you can't help but to wonder when he spoke the last time. "I even brought you cookies. They are examining them right now, but they will be delivered to you lat-" He breaks your sentence midway, shaking his head in confusion. "Why are you here?" Tim questions in confusion, his gaze full of disbelief. "I love you. I wanted to see if you are alright." The chuckle escaping him is cold and you freeze at the sound of it. "That's sweet." He comments and leans forward placing his hand at the class. "I love you too." He speaks, smiling softly at you. Moving your hand towards his, you place it on the glass, looking at him with heart shaped eyes.

What you don't notice is that his other hand forms a tight fist under the table before him. Darkness moves in his orbs, consuming his soul slowly but deeply. His growing obsession is getting stronger, after all he finally has you right where he wants you; willing at his feet, begging for more.

#tim drake #jason todd #red robin #fanfiction #angst #smuty #gotham #dc #bruce wayne #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #yandere tim drake #yandere tim drake x reader #yandere #smut

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vynpng · 9 months

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♡ - drunken nights pt.1 | pt.2 (coming soon...)

[ex!gojo x gn reader]

n | sfw. angsty. pathetic gojo (lit rally saurrrr bbg). mentions of alcohol. idk what else to add??? this is a fic so it's gonna be kinda long yall!!!

read under cut!!

Gojo wasn't a heavy drinker.

When the two of you were still together, he'd never drink. What reason would he have to drink? Besides the occasional celebratory shot of soju- Gojo would like to say he was a sober man- minus the times you would have to work him through his awful hangovers in the morning.

But that was then. In the past, before everything essentially went to shit. Before the two of you had split up and 'moved' on. After the break up, Gojo would find himself drinking more in order to drown out his sorrows, to quash down any memories of you- but god was it hard, when practically everything reminded him of you. Some days he would have to physically stop himself from calling you- lest he gets blocked.

The fact he hasn't yet puts some hope in his heart that maybe if he needed you, you'd pick up. But when he spent every waking hour needing you- the urge to dial your number got harder to resist every damn day.

It had been months since you had dumped him, six months to be exact, exactly half a year and even he had no idea how he was coping, how he still could go on with his day as if everything was normal. But at least, he thought to himself, he hadn't caved in. Hadn't done something stupid these dreadful months and hadn't ended up disturbing you after making it explicitly clear that you were over, that you didn't want anything to do with him. The very last thing he wanted was for you to hate him, to hold him in such low regard in your eyes that all that clawed up in your mind was dreadful memories.

So Gojo would keep his distance, in hopes he could keep the relationship amicable, even though you hadn't spoken since that damned day.

But of course, nobody was perfect- even Gojo.

He wasn't even sure how he got here, one minute he was at the bar- spilling all his heart-related woes to the poor bartender, consuming drink after drink, his mind becoming more clouded and his movements sluggish and the next thing he knew he was right in front of your door, standing in the rain, contemplating whether or not he should knock. And of course, the irrational stupid part of him won out as he knocked, heart catching in his throat as he waited.

What was he doing here? Fuck. He should turn back while he could, whilst you were reaching the door. Were you reaching the door, did you know it was him? So you wouldn't open up? The very idea made him bite his pink lips in trepidation, eyes skirting around as if trying to see if anyone could see the strongest sorcerer in such a state.

Before he could even think of knocking again, the door swung open- and it felt as if time itself had stopped.

There you were, heaven itself- staring at him as if he was a ghost, pupils wide and mouth slightly agape.

Then you quickly schooled your expression from shock to neutrality, crossing your arms across your chest, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

Any hope he had had quickly died after being subject to your cold and apathetic gaze.

Lips trembling- either from the rain or nerves, he couldn't tell- white eyelashes fluttered delicately as he sniffed pathetically, waiting for the verdict.

Droplets of rain cascaded from snow strands, dripping onto his hoodie and making his face sheen with slick. A light blush dusted his cheeks, accounting for how wasted he was.

"Why the hell are you wet?"

"Huh?"

"...I thought rain didn't affect you."

Oh. Now that he was thinking about it, since when did he allow Infinity to let the rain in? Some lame attempt to gain pity points? Maybe if he got a cold, you'd let him stay, take care of him, like you used to.

"Gojo, what are you doing here? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Time? Did that mean if he had come in the middle of the afternoon you would've let him in? Shit, he should've gotten drunk near one! Blinking rapidly- Gojo attempted to think of something to say, but truth was he didn't know why he was here, whatever reason or excuse he could possibly have. He might say the wrong thing and you'd slam the door in his face, leaving his pathetic ass out in the rain. Although he wouldn't be entirely upset, especially considering he was able to see you again- in person, since he had opted to revisit all the videos he had of you saved in his camera roll since the break up.

"Didn't know where else to go..."

If he was anymore levelheaded, he'd probably cringe at how stupid he sounded- crawling back to his ex like an idiot, hoping that they'd let him back in their heart. Standing in the rain like some lovesick puppy.

You should've closed the door. Hell, you shouldn't have opened it in the first place. If you knew it was Gojo beyond the threshold, you would've barricaded yourself in- ignoring his entire existence. You detested the way Gojo could make any rational thoughts in your head go poof! Entirely dissipated. And even now, six months later- you couldn't help that warm and fuzzy feeling that pooled in your stomach whenever you saw him.

It did not help in the slightest that Gojo looked the way he did, face flushed- lips pulled into a small pout and eyelashes lowered as rain slid off them. If he wanted to give you a pathetic display so that you'd let him in, it was most definitely working.

"P-please, I'll leave...just..."

Seeing him struggle to form a proper sentence was the last straw. So, with a heavy, resigned sigh, you turned back around and walked deeper into the house.

Gojo stood there for a minute, tears pooling at his eyes as he thought that you'd left him, lips wobbling violently-as if he was barely reigning in a broken sob, this was an outward sign of rejection- before it had registered that you left the door open- you were letting him inside.

Before you could change your mind, he had quickly entered your home, locking the door behind him- heart hammering violently against his ribcage as he leaned against the door, still in a dazed sort of state.

He was in your house.

#vyn.writes #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #im in my jjk era

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alovesreading · 9 months

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'tis the damn season | Part 2

Summary: Christmas has been your favourite season since you met Ross MacDonald back in Year 9 when you had just moved to Wilmslow, coincidentally on the same road as him. He becomes your very best friend for the rest of high school, but when that ends, life happens and you just can't stop it. And life is certainly cruel to you and Ross. Every December is a reminder of it, somehow always bringing a chance to ruin things even more. After so many mistakes, how can you get back the times you've always cherished with the silly boy with the dimpled smile?

Word count: 12.7k

Warnings: the tiniest bit of angst.

A/N: Here it is! I hope this one makes up for that first part lolllll. Will warn you that there's a sprinkle of angst at the beginning though... Don't kill me *runs and hides* Anyway, enjoy!!!!!

Masterlist

Part 1

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“Shit,” you curse under your breath when his words hit you harder than the cold winds of December.

But maybe it’s the realisation that you just know nothing about him anymore that hits you even harder than what he has just said or the cold weather.

Entirely aware of how bad it can look, you pout up at him and add with heavy sorrow for him, “Oh Ross, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“S’alright,” Ross says with a shrug like it is nothing.

Your brows furrow, half in worry he’s bottling everything up and half in awe of the way he can cope so well with the situation—you know you could never do it.

After last year’s horrendous holiday break, when you were on your way up to Wilmslow, you had decided on making things right by everyone this year. End 2009 the right way and go into the new year with the joy of grasping onto normalcy back in a place you held dear.

It certainly did help that you have your boyfriend coming back home with you. Not alone anymore, and feeling the deep excitement for him to meet everyone you loved so much in Wilmslow.

That’s why as soon as you had managed to escape your parents and settled everything down in your room, you left your boyfriend to settle down while you ran down the stairs and up the road until you reached Ross’ house.

You certainly hadn’t expected him to turn down your idea of a double date of sorts because he and Katie weren’t together anymore. You thought that when he said he wasn’t sure it could be done, it meant you would have to make a bit more of an effort to get Ross’ friendship back.

You’re deflated by the news, thinking about how sad you are that the gifts you had gotten Katie would not make it to her in the end.

“Who’s he then?” Ross asks with a raise of his brows, bringing you back out from your thoughts.

Your mouth opens as you try to answer, but you stupidly stutter before giving him a vague answer, “Oh, erm, a classmate.”

It isn’t like you’ve come here to dump about your relationship though, and the idea of pouring facts about your boyfriend seems like poor taste after what Ross has just told you. But Ross is kind and you know he’s asking because you obviously were excited for him to meet him if you had come here to suggest going out on a double date.

It is your turn to be kind to him after two years of ruining shit with your stupidity so you let him get out of it by letting him know, “I’ve asked Matty and he said it was fine if I brought him by on Boxing day so I guess you’ll meet him properly then.”

“Right,” he nods first, but when a beat of silence goes by, he adds, “Sure.” His lips are pressed tightly together, the corners of his mouth barely lift up when he tries to fake enthusiasm as he finally adds, “Can’t wait.”

You can’t keep to yourself the shock, or better said, it’s easy for your mum to get what you’ve just found out due to how awful you feel for reminding Ross of his recent breakup, one you had no idea about.

And another thing you’ve got no idea about is that, after you tell your mum how bad you feel about what had just happened, she called Ross’ mum and invited her over for Christmas dinner the following day.

A truly horrible idea that you scold your mum about when she tells you about it the morning of the 25th.

“Mum, what?! How’s it gonna help him to have dinner with us when he’s just broken up with Katie?!”

Of course, your mother is oblivious to what you mean, “He’s gonna have company! All of us together will make him happy!”

Unfortunately, you can’t explain what had happened the past two years, the way you had behaved, and how it seems incredibly unfair to have him have Christmas dinner with you and your boyfriend in the room.

So, to try and fix the mess your mum has unknowingly made, you take it upon yourself to make sure dinner doesn’t end up in a situation like the previous two years.

You keep the pda with your boyfriend to the minimum, make sure to include Ross in every conversation—basically spend most of the time boasting about the guys’ band to your boyfriend—, and keep asking Ross and his parents all about how they’re doing.

Ross is smiling and participating in conversation, which you really appreciate and you relax a bit halfway through dinner when noticing that Ross is doing far better than you had ever done with Katie.

And it’s then that guilt starts creeping back up.

But the thing that you don’t know is that Ross is just good at acting and putting on a smile, because seeing your boyfriend’s hand on your thigh all throughout dinner and the way he takes every opportunity he can to kiss your cheek, is killing him.

Ross gets it then. He gets why it had been so hard for you to keep your feelings to yourself back when you met Katie. Because he can feel that horrendous burn rising up his throat, burning in his chest every glance that he takes at you and sees that the reason for every smile and giggle is the lad beside you.

You have always had a hard time not letting your every thought show on your expression, Ross took the piss about it so often, though he really appreciated it because it meant he always knew what was going through your head.

However, he had the ability to hide everything behind a blank face or a half smile and not be questioned about it.

Exactly like in this very moment when he’s half smiling into his cup of cider as both your parents—as if they hadn’t met him already when they went down to London during summer break—and his parents grill your boyfriend with loads of questions that the poor bloke stutters to answer most of the time.

His fingers clutch the cup tighter every time he hears him call you baby, and he dies a bit more inside when he sees your boyfriend mumble “I love you,” in your ear when you come to his defence after your dad makes a stupid joke about him that has you gasping.

“Love you too,” you reciprocate and give him a quick peck to which everyone coos.

Everyone but Ross.

Ross, who settles you are both even now, who tries washing down the bitter taste of jealousy with more cider until your dad brings out a bottle of whiskey and opens it for everyone to enjoy, and it is then that the bassist starts gulping down the dark alcohol with an ease that your dad jokes about.

What he doesn’t know is that it burns every time Ross takes a gulp back, his throat raw and aching, but the feeling is just strong enough to overcome the horrendous way seeing you this happy and in love makes him feel.

Such an idiot, Ross thinks about himself. He’s an absolute fucking fool.

And then, your mum is calling it’s time for Christmas pictures and when you and your boyfriend go first and the first time your mum presses the shutter is when your boyfriend kisses you under the mistletoe, Ross can’t take it any longer and he excuses himself to walk back home alone.

It isn’t until he has thrown himself on his bed, groaning about how he feels like he’s gonna be sick all over his sheets, that he realises he’s walked out before even getting a picture with you.

Ross falls asleep thinking he needs to make it up to you on Boxing day when you bring your boyfriend over to Matty’s.

“Hope she isn’t too much of a handful,” George jokes when they all fall into easy conversation and banter with your boyfriend.

“She’s a good handful,” your boyfriend jokes, letting his hand fall down to your ass and squeezing it with eager fingers.

You gasp and push him off you while he cackles loudly, the room follows along. A choir of laughter around the place from the lads and their own girlfriends, though the deep rich laughter from Ross is missing.

Your gaze sweeps the room until it falls on him and you give him an apologetic smile. He offers you a tight lip grin and a shake of his head, like he’s trying to say it’s okay.

Nothing really is because with every minute that passes and he sees how well your boyfriend gets along with everyone, Ross dies a little inside. And, in spite of how lovely Boxing day is going, he can’t find himself enjoying the togetherness like he usually does.

An invitation is made for your boyfriend to join you for the gig the band is playing at a pub in Manchester tomorrow night.

Enthusiastically, you both accept and when you go back home, you can’t stop smiling at the prospect of these two sides of your life merging with an ease that makes your heart swell.

You’re early to the gig, since you had convinced your boyfriend to take the chance to go around Manchester before you were due at the pub to see your friends, and you chat with the boys as they set up in a makeshift stage.

At the start of December, their manager Jamie had founded Dirty Hit, a label of his own so he could finally sign the band himself.

You are so unbelievably proud of your boys, tears well up your eyes watching them perform flawlessly on that stage: smiling so hard at Matty’s passion when singing, the funny faces George has always made when playing the drums, the clever riffs Adam managed to play easily and, of course, the suave Ross had when playing that bass.

You, amongst the almost sixty people in that pub, are entranced by them and you sing along the songs you’ve witnessed being written, put together and practised throughout the years.

When they play ‘Robbers’, you can’t help but cry. The memories it brings to you are so overwhelming, your boyfriend ends up hugging you from behind to soothe you as you sing along to the incredible lyrics Matty had somehow come up with at 18, the summer before you went off to university, when everything was alright.

Ross catches a glimpse of you and his heart aches when seeing the tears rolling down your face. The hurt only gets stronger when your boyfriend is the one to wipe them off your cheeks.

He brings his gaze forward again but when he’s unable to clear his thoughts by focusing on a stranger’s face, he lets his head hang and his eyes fall on his fingers playing the strings of his bass.

The same one he had shown off to you the first time you had gone to his house on Boxing day and you stayed there, perched on his bed as you watched him show off his skills on the instrument.

Ross isn’t sure then how much longer he can cope with this, seeing you smitten with somebody else, craving their touch and not his, needing their company and not his.

He’s so relieved when you go back home with your boyfriend after the gig, swiftly getting yourself out of a night of drinks with the guys since you have plans for the next morning that you can’t get out of.

The hangover Ross nurses the following day is entirely worth it for he managed to drown his sorrows with alcohol without being questioned about it, he hid it behind being overly enthusiastic about a new year with a now signed band, the one thing they had been dreaming since they properly formed the band in 2002.

But it doesn’t matter that he had managed to conceal his real feelings and intentions behind drinking that night, for when New Year’s Eve comes around, he’s entirely transparent as he knocks back glass after glass from the moment you arrive at Matty's.

Unlike a year ago, it is time for Ross to get plastered since he’s totally incapable of coping with you being all over your boyfriend now that alcohol is in your system and, since you’ve seen Ross’ reactions for the past few days and you have assumed the bassist is entirely fine with everything, you don’t have to hold back anymore.

For a miraculous change, George is the one to take care of Ross when midnight approaches and he just can’t stay in the room to watch what he knows will happen the second the countdown reaches one.

Ross’ body reacts on its own when he hears the room he’s left erupt in a chorus of “Happy New Year!” and he rushes to the nearest bathroom to be sick when the ruckus of greetings change for one of whistles and teasing, a confirmation that you’re definitely kissing your boyfriend like you had kissed Ross all those years ago.

Hiding away in the bathroom, Ross spends the rest of the night there, sitting against the door and ignoring every knock and attempt of opening it.

He wakes up passed out on the bathroom floor the next morning, wishing he had drunk even more to forget why he had been drinking to begin with. But not even drinking more would’ve helped with him avoiding seeing you and your boyfriend cuddling on one of the settees when he walks out to leave the Healy's house.

When you come knocking on his door later that day, he groggily answers the door. Your goodbye hits him like a gut punch but, despite being sad about seeing you go, he can’t help being a little relieved his chest doesn’t have to ache to the sight of you in love anymore.

At least not until next Christmas.

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Around May of 2010 you graduated university.

That nightmare was finally over and the only good thing that had come out of it other than your degree, and the fact that you managed to land a job before graduating, was that you weren’t alone anymore.

Your mum and dad went down to London for the ceremony and it brought tears to your eyes to see them in the crowd as you walked onto the stage to get your diploma. Loads of pictures had been taken and though you felt elated, overflowing with joy, it wasn’t until you finally had time to check your phone and see the messages your friends from back home had sent you that you felt complete.

Adam’s message had made you coo and tear up, whilst George and Matty’s messages made you laugh like an idiot. Ross’ message had made you smile nostalgically, a tear slipping down your cheek when you had read it again.

Cannot believe you’re graduating today, sweetheart. So incredibly proud of you :)) You were always the smartest one of us after all. Hope you’re having the best time celebrating yourself today, you’re fucking brilliant Y/N/N. Love you lots, see you soon I hope xx

Truth was, your parents had invited him along but he had declined, excusing it on work and something band related that your mum and dad didn’t ask too much about. Still, they were sad they couldn’t surprise you with Ross’ presence on such a big day.

Ross had really regretted his decision when you posted a bunch of pictures of your graduation day to your Facebook page. Though, the ones where your boyfriend was right next to you reminded him just why he had said no.

He was a coward, he wouldn’t deny it if he were to be called out for it but he was doing it for the best of the situation, for the best of your friendship—or at least to the bits of it that still lingered to which he was holding onto tightly.

Because somehow, despite how the last Christmas time had turned out for himself, Ross found himself holding onto the hope that everything would be alright this year when you came back home for the holidays. And there was a little annoying voice inside his head that laughed at himself for it, but he was holding onto you desperately, like water in his hands, hoping you wouldn’t slip fully through his fingers.

So he had held on and on, day after day, onto that hope until December was around the corner and when a text of yours came through to the group chat you had with the guys, that hope plummeted down and shattered on the floor.

Guys I’ll be spending the holidays in London so please don’t worry about a present for me this year. I promise I will make this up to you very soon!! Miss yous so much and love yous even more!! xx

The first feeling that shows is sadness. Ross frowns, reading your message over and over, his heart sinking and settling on the pits of his stomach as despair overcomes him. He really had spoiled the only chance he would get this year of seeing you, just because he hadn’t really wanted to see you with your boyfriend again.

But now, all he can think is that he’s willing to endure that horrendous jealousy and anguish just to see you again. And he’s especially desperate because it's Christmas! It’s your time of the year, your and Ross’ time, or at least that’s what it had always been until 2007.

Ross wants to pull his hair out of his head then, not only dreading having to spend this season without even seeing you from afar, but just from being reminded of how this will be the fourth year in a row where something has happened and shaken the dynamic you had shared and cherished since 2002.

And then, nosy Matty asks why you’re staying in London because it’s certainly very rude of you to abandon your best friends in the entire world to spend the holidays in the south—that’s exactly what the curly headed boy sends on the group chat.

Which prompts you to answer with a string of laughing emojis and then the truth: you’re spending the holidays with your boyfriend’s family this year.

Reading that message is what turns Ross’ sadness into anger in a split second.

Because you’re breaking the promise you had made before you left for uni, the promise you had swore to never break when Sara, Danielle, and Jodie eventually did.

Hope is gone. A tiny lit flame that has just been blown out and there’s nothing left of it but the string of smoke rising up into the air.

Ross knows this is it then, the end of it all.

He could’ve never predicted it would take eight years to lose you entirely, and he sort of wishes he could warn his past self so he could shield himself from anything he could develop for you when you first met.

He chucks his phone somewhere on his bed, fully ignoring any other messages coming into the group chat afterwards.

Nothing mattered anymore.

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It certainly is a shock to see you walking out of the house when Ross is walking back to his from the shops.

Matty had sent him out to buy decorations for the New Year’s Eve party because, suddenly, he decides the party needs to be a proper one with decorations and props and cone hats and silly 2012 shaped glasses that definitely don’t look feasible to look through.

So he’s toying with the frame of one of the glasses, thinking about how quickly 2011 has gone by, when he sees you walking out of your house with a skip in your step.

Since there was no message on the group chat, he didn’t really know if you were coming back home or not.

Not that he cared.

At least, that’s what Ross had been telling himself.

But it’s clear he indeed cared because when your eyes fall on him and a gorgeous smile breaks on your face, there’s a hint of relief that floods his system.

“Ross! Hey!” You are wary of the distance that’s there between you, not only physically because he’s still yet to cross the road towards you but also emotionally because you two haven’t spoken at all in the entirety of the year.

Well, you had if the short birthday messages you sent the other counted.

“Hi, Y/N. Y’alright?” he finally asks when he crosses the road and stands just a few metres away from you.

You nod, “Amazing. You?”

“Pretty good.”

You hum because he doesn’t sound so sure about it. Your eyes fall on the bag in his hand, catching the look of the New Year’s themed goods.

“Those look nice. Matty’s decorating this year?”

Ross chuckles softly, “Yes, apparently the party needs to be proper from now on.”

You snort at that and roll your eyes at the image of Matty saying that in your head. He was so annoying, you truly adored him. “Ha, right. Well, I’ll see you then!”

Wow what a good lengthy chat, Ross thought sarcastically. Still, he didn’t let how that made him feel show. With a soft smile, he nods and says, “See ya’,” before resuming his walk and making it back home.

He makes a great effort not to look down the road to see where you’re heading. That quick, awkward chat is enough to know where you stand and in what state your friendship is. Gone.

Ross comes to terms with the fact that it just will never be the same. It’s all gone: you, the holidays you’ve grown to love, all the traditions that only entailed the two of you.

It hurts his chest and he wonders if it hurts yours as well.

He doesn’t even see you the day after, on the 25th. There’s nothing delivered to his house—your mum had done it the year before, but the lack of it this year meant the official loss of that tradition—and since your boyfriend and his family are over at yours, or so Ross’ mum told him, the MacDonalds leave your family to it and don’t interrupt by sending anything over to your house.

The next time Ross sees you is at Matty’s on Boxing day, which goes as smoothly as it can. It’s only refreshing to have the rest of the boys there along with their girlfriends, and little Louis Healy is a funny distraction from the turmoil that clouds Ross’ brain when in the same room as you and your boyfriend.

When New Year’s Eve comes, alcohol makes for that miraculous distraction instead, but this time he’s more careful about it. Not blacking out but, instead, numbing himself with every drink until the countdown happens and seeing you and your boyfriend sharing a passionate kiss doesn’t make him want to run into oncoming traffic.

You leave on the 3rd of January this time, giving your boyfriend’s family and your own time to enjoy the start of the year together.

This time, when Ross answers the front door after hearing incessant knocking and he sees you standing there with a soft smile and a goodbye on the tip of your tongue, saying goodbye back feels more significant.

As he says goodbye, still half hiding behind the door, it feels like he’s bidding farewell to your friendship and all you two ever were.

What you never had been.

Ross wonders then if things would’ve been different if he had done something about the two of you when he kissed you under the mistletoe in 2006, how you two could be in such a different place if he had made a move after kissing you when the clock struck midnight at the very start of 2007.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

The first week of August 2012, the first official music project by the band came out. It was a bit odd knowing the boys had an official name now, but The 1975 sounded fucking brilliant—you had assured Matty of it when he sent you a picture of it freshly tattooed below his Mortal Kombat tattoo saying that he had gotten the new name tattooed so he wasn’t allowed to change his mind anymore.

You had gone to the closest HMV to your office and bought the CD, sending a picture of it to the guys on your group chat and gushing over how fucking good it was after you had listened to it four times in one sitting.

And you had gone just as crazy when November rolled around and on the 19th the Sex EP came out. A quick message was sent in the middle of your short lunch break, you’d written it with the biggest smile on your face.

Holy shit guys, that was incredible!!!! I’m so unbelievably proud of yous :’’)) Who would’ve thought you’d go from changing your band name every other month to having two stunning EPs out!!! I need yous to sign my new CD!! Cannot wait to see you brilliant, talented lot on Christmas. Love youuuuu!!! xxxxx

It was odd that after all that time, Ross could still hear your voice in his head saying all that while he read it. Like he just can’t truly let go of you, and a flicker of hope that still lives inside him then becomes obvious, he can’t help but think, maybe, just maybe, you won’t miss Christmas at home this year like he’s been expecting you to all year long.

It felt almost like he had been holding his breath since that notion became apparent in his mind, the anticipation of not really knowing if his hopes were gonna lead him to be disappointed or if he would actually be right.

Ross lets out a sigh of relief when he walks out of his house and he catches a glimpse of you walking in through the front door of your parent’s house with a bag in hand.

He’s not aware of what he’s doing until his quick strides lead him all the way up to your front door and he’s harshly knocking on it.

You’ve barely been able to shout hello to your mum, who’s upstairs, and let your dad take your bag up to your room when you’re startled by the knocking.

Turning around on your heels, it’s merely two steps you take until you can grab the handle and turn it to open the door and show a speechless and surprisingly enthused Ross bundled up in a cosy flannel coat and a beanie, the tip of his nose tinting pink from the cold, and his cheeks matching the shade.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. You have no idea why he’s just standing here, how on Earth he had managed to know exactly when you would arrive or if he had been expecting you, but you can’t stop the need to feel him closer than this the second you see him.

Basically throwing yourself into him, you gasp and wrap your arms around his waist, his arms coming to envelop you in a hug over your shoulders and you melt into him completely.

“Oh my god. I missed you so much,” you whisper into his ear.

His heart squeezes in his chest, leaving him weak enough to admit, “Me too. So much.”

He knows it’s not time for inquiries but he’s honestly taken aback by the fact that you’re here so his questions leave him without him wanting them to, “Are you okay? How’s London treating you? How’s your boyfriend, is he spending it here again?”

Those are heavy questions, lots to explain that just leave you without a word to utter. Except for the last question. That situation’s status was clear enough that you pull back and take a deep breath to be able to answer through the pain of thinking about it, “No. Ermm, we broke up.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t–,” Ross starts apologising but when he sees your chin start to wobble and tears filling your eyes, he pulls you back into him as he says, “Don’t cry, C’mere.”

“It’s all my fault,” you can’t help but admit. Not really about the breakup, that was certainly not your fault if you looked at the bigger picture, but the horrendous pain that fills you when you think about how your attempts to fill the emptiness from being away from home had crumbled down and left you feeling even lonelier than ever. You shake with a sob in Ross’ arms and admit, finally, “I hid so much from you guys.”

The confusion in his breathy, “What?” is clear and you know this is the right moment to just come clean about everything, before this opportunity leaves you like a train does a station.

“Do you…” you sniffle as you pull back to look at him.

God, you must look like a mess and a right idiot. Ross thinks that despite how his heart is breaking seeing you this upset, he’s never seen a person more beautiful.

“Do you wanna come in?” you suggest, thumb pointing behind you into a house he hasn’t stepped foot inside since Christmas day 2009, 3 years ago. “I feel like I owe you a lot of truths.”

Carefully, he nods and that’s when you put your hand out for him to hold and walk into the house.

Electricity runs to his fingertips where he holds you, painfully aware of how your absence has made your proximity now erupt a wave of feelings inside him that he had thought were gone.

Once he’s inside the house, you close the door. He expects you to guide him to the living room but, to his surprise, you take him up the stairs and into your room.

Even your dad is surprised to see Ross in the house after all this time for he stops in his tracks when he sees the now very tall lad walking hand in hand with you on the way to your room, which he’s leaving after leaving your bag neatly on top of your bed.

“Oh hello, Ross. Missed seeing you around here, kid.”

Ross smiles but before he can respond to your dad’s greeting, you speak out, “Thanks for helping me with the bag dad. I’m gonna chat with Ross for a bit if you don’t mind.”

Your dad notices the tears in your eyes then, with the slight waver of your voice so he knows this is a serious matter and he nods, giving you both a smile before walking past you into his room where your mum’s still hiding. She must be really entertained with what she’s doing since she hasn’t run to your room to crush you in a hug like she always does, but you won’t complain right now because it seems like everything is about to spill out of your mouth.

Closing your room’s door behind you, Ross makes his way into your room when you drop his hand. He sits at the edge of your bed and you do the same, looking into his eyes for a second before letting your gaze drop to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers nervously.

A sigh leaves you.

This is it then.

Looking back up at him, you take in his worried expression and start telling him everything. How you knew university would be hard from the very second you moved into your dorm. How you had been so horribly homesick, you got depressed and had to talk to a therapist on campus for quite a while. The amount of times you had thought of dropping out throughout the first year, but had refused to come back home empty handed and regretting giving up when you have always been academically driven.

And how, despite your efforts, the second year had been just as bad.

You couldn’t make friends but not by lack of trying, it was harsher in uni to find people you felt in tune with when everyone was so focused on themselves and the groups established there were far more stronger than in high school; so many people knew each other from school already, it felt like trying to be friends with them was causing a disturbance to their friendships.

And then you came back to London from Wilmslow, that time Ross had told you to go back and you had left right after the gift exchange at Matty’s, and you met this guy. He gave you just the amount of attention and kindness to lure you in and grow attached to him after craving proper human connection for so long.

He had become your boyfriend easily, because he gave you attention and made you feel needed, despite both of those notions having meant in a sexual way more times than not.

It wasn’t the best relationship and you knew that, but you would take anything, even if faulty, just to not feel alone like you had the two previous years again.

So you made due with what you had and fell in love with him, though you knew he didn’t feel the same as you did, and if he ever did say it was just because he wanted to keep you. For convenience really, because if he said he wanted you, you would drop anything for him, even if you didn’t want to say yes, you did because you feared being left alone.

And then he realised he could make you stay by reminding you how badly you had been going through it before he appeared into your life, and now you could point out how emotionally manipulative he had been, but right then, it had gone right past your head.

That was why it had been so easy for him to cheat before you two graduated, and it had been even easier for him to get you to forgive him. He would say you wouldn’t survive without him, without his love, without his presence in your life; he reminded you just how far away everyone was, how you had lied and kept things to yourself so no one worried and how selfish of you it would be to call and talk about yourself and your issues which you could resolve easily, just by forgiving him and taking him back.

So like a brainless fool, you did.

And then you graduated and you moved in with him, and though you had a job of your own, he convinced you to do everything for him. His kisses, the sex, the cuddles, him making time for you, it all was your reward. Showing you affection had become a reward for you keeping the flat clean, cooking meals and paying half the rent, it had become something to exchange for your efforts rather than something that came with a loving relationship.

You knew he had cheated at least twice after that first time but kept quiet. You knew, but the only thing you could do was ask him to wear a condom every time you fucked, just because that was the last bit of love and concern you had for yourself.

That was until a few weeks before your birthday, when you got off work early because you were feeling a bit poorly and the feverish, dizzy feeling that overcame you was enough for your boss to send you home immediately.

It had been nothing compared to the feeling that washed over you when you quietly came into the flat and walked blindly down the hall to your bedroom, only to find your boyfriend balls deep in some girl.

Your horrified gasp and confused mumbling wasn’t enough for him to stop, instead he kicked you out of the room and you left running back to the living room where you stood almost dry heaving as you replayed the moment over and over again, wanting to be sick but not being brave enough to walk up to the bathroom with how close to the bedroom it was.

Still, he took a fair few minutes to come out of the bedroom and face you. From what you heard, you knew he hadn’t even taken the consideration to stop and had chosen to finish before he could even begin to explain what was going on.

Not that it needed explaining, really.

But it was the absolute lack of remorse in his face when he came out to the living room that brought you out of the hypnosis he had caught you in for so long. The fact that he hissed through his teeth why the fuck you had come home so early. The fact that he sounded more apologetic to the girl than to you, his girlfriend of three and a half years.

And it was the realisation that you would rather feel this hurt because of breaking up with him than because he was trying to convince you that it had been nothing and you could forgive him yet again.

So you did. You broke up with him that very second. Going to the bedroom, which made you feel even more disgustingly nauseous, you quickly packed everything you had there in a big suitcase you had thankfully kept. All that you had in there as best as you could and the rest shoved in a big bag of yours that didn’t fit inside the case.

You had felt more alone than ever, without your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend now—, without any friends because all of your friends had been his first and you knew he would manipulate them enough to make them switch on you the second they found out, without a roof to live under.

But you felt free, oddly, and it was that which drove you to call up one of your co-workers and ask for their help.

Emma was the sweetest and let you stay in her flat for the week and a half it took you to find a place you could rent. You hadn’t been exactly choosy with it, just going off necessity and settling for the better most convenient option, both for your pocket and the proximity to your job.

So you were now living in some shitty flat in a very unsafe area in London, but it was close to the tube station and it was only a thirty minute commute to your office, which you were growing to appreciate.

It was the fact that for the first time in a while you felt like your own person that made you smile on the daily.

And now the fact that you had finally come clean about everything to one of the most important people in your life.

Ross is speechless. He’s lost his breath with every bit that you’ve told him, and yet the way that you fully leave him stupefied and unable to breathe is the smile that you give him when you’re done with your story.

That toothy grin he has missed so much, accompanied with your tear stained cheeks and glassy eyes.

His heart is utterly broken for you, someone so beautiful inside and out being absolutely destroyed and mishandled by people who never appreciated you for who you truly are, stuck in a situation that you kept shut because you’re selfless like that.

Ross feels like his heart had been shattered in a million pieces, but he feels a new wave of heartache when he remembers how cruel and unfair he had been to you when, unbeknownst to him and everyone else, you were going through such a nightmare.

He wants to bang his head against a wall.

But not more than he wants to crush you in a hug and tell you it’ll be alright now.

So he does.

His arms feel heavenly around you, melting into his chest and hiding in his neck comes to you like second nature just how it had always been back then, before everything happened.

You can’t help but cry, and though some of your tears come from the ache in your chest, most of them are spilled because you feel relieved that you can shed yourself of the weight of everything that you’ve been keeping to yourself, relieved that you can mend things back home and you can try and get back those friendships you have always cherished.

Ross doesn’t let you go, not when you calm yourself down and stop crying, not when you yawn and rub your tired eyes, not when it starts getting dark out.

He’s hesitant to let you go when you go to move your bag out of your bed so you can lay down. But he follows when you pat the spot next to yours on the mattress.

His arms wrap around you and he pulls you closer to him. You two haven’t done this in so long, it’s hard to even point out when was the last time you cuddled, but your legs tangle with an ease that makes your heartbeats stutter.

With eyes fluttering as you two succumb to slumber, the last thing you remember before falling asleep is the feeling of Ross’ lips pressing on top of your head.

“I had missed this,” you admit groggily when you wake up to his fingers rubbing circles on your lower back.

The darkness of your room envelopes you like a blanket, pale moonlight sneaking through your blinds to give you the faintest bit of sight.

You can barely make out the dimples on his cheeks as he smiles down at you with a puffy face and sleepy eyes, “I missed you.”

Whole. That’s how you feel when he says that with a warm conviction that melts your insides. You hum, “Yeah. Me too.”

A knock on your door makes the two of you look in the direction of it, and slowly peeling it open, your mum peeks her head through to smile at you.

“Haven’t seen you like that in ages,” she recalls with a coo. “You two are so grown up now.”

You smile just by remembering the pictures your mum would take of the two of you cuddling on the settee after falling asleep watching a film. The nostalgia makes you wish she would take a picture right now just so you could compare it to them.

“Sorry to interrupt darlings, you two look cosy, but could you do me a favour?”

That’s how you end up at the shops with Ross, giggling as you walk through the aisles trying to find the things your mum had forgotten to get on her last shopping trip for tomorrow’s dinner.

It’s hard not to get distracted when you walk around, seeing all the Christmas sweets and treats, even harder when Ross makes you laugh as you go about the place and you keep forgetting what it is that you’re looking for.

“Hey, you better not forget these,” he jokes, grabbing a bag of potatoes that he ends up placing in your basket.

It’s hard hugging Ross goodbye after you come back from the shops and put everything away together, but it makes you so incredibly happy to know that it feels normal again—your arms around each other feel like finding your way back home after getting lost on the way.

You go to bed feeling content, the smell of him lingers on your pillows and you nuzzle your face on them with a loopy smile on your face.

It is when you wake up and go downstairs for breakfast that you properly feel giddy, though, because your mum tells you she called Ross’ mum and they had agreed to have Christmas dinner together.

A loud kiss is smacked on your mum’s cheek at the news and she smirks as she looks at your dad when you run to the kitchen to see if you had all the ingredients to make some type of dessert, leaving your coffee to get cold on the dining table.

Having the MacDonalds over is a joy, as per usual, with Ross’ mum being the loveliest person ever and Ross’ dad making you all laugh hysterically, dinner goes wonderfully.

Everything’s tasty, warm in your bellies and your hearts with the hours you all spend together. Nothing feels more right than this very moment.

And then your mum springs up her chair and calls, “Time for pictures!”

Just like you’ve known to do since the very first time, you and Ross move to the bottom of the stairs right beneath where your mum always hangs the mistletoe. The sight makes Ross smile brightly, his eyes crinkling at the edges and dimples pinching his cheeks beautifully.

Your mum frowns at her film count on display as she takes the camera close to her face, “I’ve got one in here, so I’ll take the first and then go get another pack of film to take the rest.”

You bite your tongue not to smile too brightly when it reminds you of a certain moment, years ago.

As your mum takes the camera up to her eyes, Ross wraps an arm tightly around your waist, fingers digging on your clothed flesh as he presses you flush to his side. You wrap an arm around his waist and just as you’re about to rest your head on his shoulder to pose for the camera, your heart begs you to do something else.

You turn to look at him and pucker your lips to press them on his cheek. Your mum captures just the moment bliss breaks out on his face, melting his smile into a parted mouth as he exhales a sigh in content at the feeling of your lips on his skin.

The second the whirring of the polaroid printing out sounds, you pull back and he peels his eyes open to look at you with adoration, or so you think from the way his brown eyes gleam as he looks into yours.

You have to separate when your mum walks in between you to run upstairs to get some more film, all the while she’s shaking the just printed picture in her hand.

Suddenly, Ross blinks and he’s back in 2006, when your mum was making a mess upstairs as she looked for a new pack of film and he finally got the courage to cup your face and actually kiss you under the mistletoe like he had been wanting for so long.

It’s a memory that flashes on both your minds in that moment, and it’s written all over your faces.

Your mouth parts in anticipation and he carefully brings up his hands to your face, holding it delicately as he starts leaning in.

It’s stupid, and maybe way too fast on his part but he can’t have you looking all beautiful standing in front of him and under the mistletoe and not kiss you. You’re magnetising and he can’t fight the power you have over him, he’s so entranced he just wants you close.

This time it is different, it feels more intense. Not desperate, because the second your lips meet in the middle, it’s not like you lose control and try to quicken the kiss. It just feels way more intent, it’s deliberate and with so much more meaning now. You have each other back and the pieces of the puzzle fall into place perfectly just like the slotting of your lips together.

You’re the one to deepen the kiss as your tongue pokes out to tease his bottom lip and you lick into his mouth when he parts it to welcome you.

A hum reverberates through his chest when you taste each other, and he swallows a soft moan that you let out at the feeling of his beard brushing against the soft skin of your face as you two move rhythmically in a kiss that leaves you dazed.

When Ross pulls back, your breaths mix as you pant out, lips so close together, noses brushing. He drops one last peck on your lips before saying, “Had to do it properly.”

Your mum’s footsteps echo through the hall as she dashes back downstairs with a new film pack in her camera, ready to snap away.

In the pictures you can clearly see your swollen wet lips, but no one comments on it when your mum lets you two see the results of the quick photoshoot she’s just thrown for the two of you. Heat rushes up to your face, just like Ross'. You almost wanna coo and pinch his cheeks at the sight of him flustered like that.

It’s fair to say you’re both incredibly smiley when you go back to the dining room to share hot chocolate and the cookies you had made earlier. You half regret not making the same ones you had made the year you had met Ross, but it’s all fine when Ross says, “Delicious as always, sweetheart.”

You wanna pounce on his lips when he finally goes back to calling you that again.

There’s no way you can stop your lips from falling into a pout when it’s time for Ross and his parents to go. You almost want to convince them to stay a bit longer but you already had and they’d stayed an additional hour than they’d planned.

Ross’ mum and dad hug you tightly, wishing you a merry Christmas and saying that they hope you like your present, as if you haven’t loved every single one they’ve ever given you throughout the years.

When it’s time for Ross to hug you, he makes it a show of almost crushing your bones as he does so. Swaying in your place, your parents laugh behind you as the two of you cling onto each other like you haven’t done in years.

Neither set of parents have it in them to tease or complain because they’ve missed witnessing it.

But perhaps, the biggest shock of all is that when Ross pulls back after wishing you a merry Christmas, he presses his lips on yours on a sweet chaste kiss that makes the four adults around you loudly gasp and, therefore, make you and Ross become flustered like a pair of kids caught holding hands in the playground.

And just like a kid, Ross peels himself away from you and quickly escapes back home with his parents following behind him, leaving you foolishly stunned and wide eyed.

When the front door finally closes, it is your mum saying, “Finally!” that makes you snap out of your trance.

The loopy smile stays on your face as you open presents, though.

Blindly, you pick up your phone when it rings on your bedside table the next morning. You don’t even read who it is as you answer it so your shock makes you open your eyes wide when you hear Ross’ voice on the other side of the line.

He says he’s been texting you to ask if you wanted to hang out, and truthfully you just wanna sleep in a little longer, but you also wanna have his presence.

Who says you couldn’t have both?

You let him know he can come over, whispering as you tell him to ring you when he’s outside because your house is quiet as your parents still sleep.

He surprises you when he says he’s already at your door.

With your eyes still heavy with sleep, you make it downstairs, still in your pyjamas, and when you open the door, you grab his hand to drag him upstairs and into your room.

There’s not even a chance for him to greet you with a hello when you get back in bed and lift the sheets on the empty side for him to get under them and join you.

Ross doesn’t take more than a few seconds to take off his shoes and shed himself off his coat, getting in your bed and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you into him and let you cuddle yourself into him.

You basically sleep until your stomach growls as you become hungrier the more you’ve been ignoring it most of the morning, pushing aside your basic human needs to stay a little longer in Ross’ arms.

He brings you the cookies that were left from yesterday in a little plate and a glass of water, at your request, whilst you go to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

When you come back into your room, you shove one cookie into your mouth before starting your gift show and tell.

A warmth spreads through the both of you as you show him the most mundane and unimpressive gifts you’ve gotten, except for the pretty little necklace his parents got you of course, but it makes you laugh how since the last time you had done this, your presents went from an iPod mini, books and pretty dresses, to a pair of fuzzy socks and a set of floral pattern baking utensils.

You finish getting ready after you show him your presents, and he watches your every move attentively from your bed, which he has made very quickly before throwing himself over it again.

He grabs a pillow and places it over his eyes when you go to lift up your pyjama shirt, it’s not like you haven’t changed in front of the other before, but it’s been so long that he feels the need to offer you privacy.

He hears you snort at him as you sort through your wardrobe for a shirt, a jumper and a pair of jeans. And he smiles into the pillow when you mumble, “Silly,” as you finish buttoning your jeans.

“You can look now,” you say as you finish putting your shirt on.

And Ross catches a glimpse of the skin of your stomach when he lowers the pillow back onto the mattress.

He shifts from his side to his front to hide the way you affect him. He would’ve put the pillow on his lap but it would’ve been too obvious. He hopes he has a second to adjust himself without you looking when you’re about to leave.

You offer him the biggest of smiles before turning to look at yourself in the mirror and fixing your hair, putting a bit of makeup on your face to look decent for when you go to exchange gifts with your friends at Matty’s house.

Ross is entirely entranced watching you through the mirror, he can’t stop thinking about how he’s always thought you were pretty. But somehow, with time, you’ve only grown more and more beautiful.

As if that was even possible.

You’re just unreal, truly. He can’t understand the mystery of you. And he doesn’t really need to, all he wishes to do is to witness it.

When you go downstairs, Ross follows behind a bit slower since he stayed hidden behind your door adjusting himself for a few seconds while you went ahead, you shout to your parents that you’ll be going to Ross’ and then Matty’s so you’d probably come back home after tea.

They say, “Alright, have fun!” back and you’re off.

But not before Ross catches your wrist before you can walk away from the bottom of the stairs.

You stumble into his chest and he swiftly cups your jaw, tilting your head in the perfect angle for him to lean in and catch your lips in a soft kiss that steals your breath away. It’s slow and delicate, like he’s taking in the way your lips slot perfectly together, trying to memorise how your mouths move with each other.

You’re speechless when he pulls back, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth before he points upwards, “Mistletoe.”

A scoff slips past your lips. “Didn’t know you were such a rule follower,” you tease. He’s so smooth it makes you want to scream.

He shrugs, “Depends on the rule.”

Despite the fact that you assure Ross’ mum that you’ve had breakfast—Ross snitches on you saying it was just cookies and a glass of water—, you’re fed a healthy amount of leftovers for breakfast the second you walk into the MacDonald’s home.

Only thirty minutes later, you’re upstairs in Ross’ room with a mug of hot chocolate as he shows off the gifts he got this year. Which, again, makes you laugh because it’s yet again more proof about the fact that you’re too old now and all you get is adult gifts.

You can’t help but snort when he shows off the beanie and scarf your parents got him, but ultimately admit he looks adorable all bundled up in the matching cotton set.

He wears the beanie proudly when you both walk up to Matty’s, while you have the scarf wrapped around your neck after you quickly snatched it from his room before leaving his house.

When you get to the Healy residence, it’s enough of a shock to see the two of you arriving at the same time. George is the one to ask with a frown if you had walked up there together and you nod with smiles on your faces.

Matty elbows Adam when he notices your accessories match.

The curly headed boy really tries his best to hide his curiosity but he can only last fifteen minutes into the catch up you’ve all fallen into before he asks, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

It’s a shock when you nonchalantly answer, “Oh, we broke up.”

And even more of a shock when you beam after the words leave your mouth.

Ross smiles just as big, proud of you for being so strong about that situation. No one really knows about it and it shows. Yes, you had been confiding in Matty about your struggles feeling extremely lonely in uni but you had never told him the reality about your boyfriend, knowing damn well how it looked that you got into that relationship because you were so desperate to feel something.

You had so much to tell everyone, but this wasn’t the time. Not yet.

The change in the dynamic between you and Ross is obvious, especially after consecutive years of clear, growing distance in between the two of you. But no one comments on it because they don’t want to disturb the return of a friendship that had been, from the very beginning, the core of the unity of your friend group. Even if the girls aren’t here celebrating with all of you anymore, Ross and you had been the ones to bring all of you together once upon a time, and it’s certainly refreshing for the boys to see that restored.

So when the New Year’s Eve party comes around, the group is a little more rowdy and you and Ross don’t stray far from each other’s side.

It might be because it feels like you’re all back in 2006 when you were still in high school and nothing had changed just yet, that Matty and George cause more and more ruckus. It’s certainly entertaining to watch but when George is stopped by a drunk Hann from doing a frontflip from the top of the stairs, and possibly breaking his bones, Ross pulls you outside for some peace and quiet as it’s really close to midnight.

The cold air makes you shiver and sobers you up a little, but god bless Ross MacDonald for offering you a cigarette then.

You place it between your lips and let him light it up, he struggles a bit with the strong wind but you help him by cupping your hands around the end of the stick.

Taking a long drag, you let the smoke in your lungs start to relax you and bring you the warmth you so desperately want right now.

The mess going on inside is still loud despite Ross closing the door, and suddenly, the memory of that 2006 New Year’s Eve night comes flashing back to the forefront of your mind.

“This is giving me some serious déjà vu,” you say as you hold in the smoke for a few seconds before letting it out upwards.

He knows exactly what you mean, he’s been thinking about it from the second you stepped foot in the house, but he still plays dumb, “Hmmm, really?”

You nod, taking a drag before saying, “Yeah. If I remember correctly, it was 2006 and we had come out to escape a very drunk Matty and George thrashing everything inside so we could have a calm countdown. We were sharing a fag, and the countdown started.”

As if rehearsed, you hear drunk voices loudly starting to countdown from ten inside the house.

Ten, nine, eight…

“And?” Ross pushes you to continue.

Biting your bottom lip, you try your best to hold back from smirking as you casually add, “And I said happy new year.”

He hums, “Not forgetting something?”

“Am I?” you play dumb, holding the cigarette between your fingers as you look at him.

Seven, six, five, four…

He turns to look at you, taking one little step towards you to invade your space, and nods, “I reckon, yeah.”

Your brows furrow and you cock your head to the side as you feign confusion.

“Mind refreshing my memory?”

You don’t have to tell him twice.

He pounces on your lips harshly, and it’s this time that desperation shines through the movement of his mouth on yours. His tongue doesn’t waste a second to slip past your parted lips and he groans when he tastes the tart tobacco on your tongue along with the vodka cranberry you’ve been having all night.

His trimmed beard itches your skin in a way that drives you mad and you can only think about how you would really like to get used to it. Your mind betrays you thinking about how it could feel brushing between your thighs, your arms swing around his neck and your fingers run up his scalp, making him moan into your mouth.

Three, two, one…

Your lungs burn with the lack of oxygen and you pull back, panting, but a smirk doesn’t fail to break on your face and you breathlessly quip, “Ah yes, I remember now.”

Your cheekiness has him groaning again before he dips back for another kiss, his arm wrapped so tightly around your waist that you’re pressed impossibly close to his front, you cling onto him just as passionately and let everything you’re feeling in the moment show through the way your mouth moves along with his.

Revelling in the taste of him, the feel of him.

The two of you tune out the loud drunk voices wishing each other a happy new year on the other side of the door.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he says against your mouth when he pulls back slightly.

Your breaths mix, becoming one as you try to get back oxygen into your lungs. Your nails dig into his scalp, wishing for there to be a way for you to melt into him. You can think of a few ways you can even come close to becoming one with him.

Your pupils are blown when you open your eyes and look into his, “Happy New Year, Ross.”

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

The pride that swells your chest every time Ross sends you a picture of a place he and the boys are touring is impossible to explain with words.

You burst into tears every time you talk about your talented boys travelling around the world after the hit their debut album had been. The scolding you got for missing a day of work to go up to Manchester and celebrate their first number one album was definitely worth it, for celebrating their talent and the success they deserved was one of the best fucking days of your life.

After a few months of touring, the boys have finally come back home for the holidays. The 17th of December they played their last gig of the tour in some festival in Virginia, and on the 18th they had come back to their shared flat in Manchester.

So you were up in Manchester too.

“Love, you need to dial it down on the speed,” you tell Ross when you come back into the kitchen after taking your stuff to Ross’ room.

The second you got to the flat, you had been greeted with loads of hugs and kisses from the boys and far too many stories for you to hear in one afternoon. Your bag had been left forgotten by the door where you dropped it when George came running to crush you in a hug that you welcomed gracefully, and then the rest of them followed.

Ross had been quite distracting with the amount of kisses he stole before the guys gagged enough times to have him leave you alone and then they took you to the settee where they sat you down and told you all about the tour.

But then Adam’s girlfriend came over and they went off on a date, George went out to meet his girlfriend at a restaurant, and Matty was off to his parent’s house to visit them and little Louis who had been missing him loads.

That was when Ross finally had you all to himself, and despite the fact that he was itching to get you in his room, he hadn’t been able to say no to baking cookies with you first.

The same cookies you had made him and his family the day he gave you the potatoes back on Christmas day 2002. It just felt right to choose that recipe in particular.

Ross frowns as he looks at the mixer quickly, maybe too quickly, mixing the sugar and butter together, “Why? It’ll be over faster and we can go to my room.”

The smirk on his face makes you chuckle, and you shake your head as you walk up to him. “Oh, you’re awfully confident,” you tut before wrapping your arms around his neck.

He wraps his arms around your waist and dips his head to kiss you but you pull back slightly, he raises his brows in question, “Thought you had missed me.”

“I did,” you assure, your eyes falling to his lips, but you pull back again when he dips down for a kiss once more. You love to tease him you’ve found ever since you got together at the beginning of the year, and so you do, “But I think you missed me more, didn’t you?”

With that voice of yours, it’s impossible for him to deny it. He fights a groan but lets his hands fall slowly down your waist and lower back to your ass and there, he squeezes harshly as he says, “I certainly did.”

You swallow a moan but the hunger in your eyes is clear and a mirror of his, but before you can get too carried away, you let your hands run down his chest and you pat it twice before demanding, “Okay, stop it. Let’s finish this first.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” he agrees easily.

Just because it’s you. It’s hard for him to be stubborn when it’s you.

When the cookies are in the oven, he tries to distract you with those kisses of his that leave you breathless and needy, but you really have to remind yourself of the danger it would entail if you let yourself fall into your boyfriend’s charms and leave the cookies to burn.

It’s only when all three batches of them are out and on the cooling rack, which Ross definitely bought just for the times you came around and wanted to bake, that you and Ross run off to his room and make up for the time you’ve spent apart.

That’s how most of the days that you’re back together go: either tangled in between the sheets, indulging in each other’s touch and letting the devotion you feel for the other translate in your bodies becoming one, or cuddling as you watch film after film—or rewatching the three seasons of Game of Thrones, which he’s certainly obsessed with, and you definitely tease him about how much you fancy Jon Snow as if he doesn’t resemble him.

You go Christmas shopping together but split for an hour in the middle of your afternoon to buy each other your gifts, coming back giggling as you hide your gifts from the other but definitely try to guess what you’ve got as you go back to the flat.

The best time is when you’re all getting ready to go back to Wilmslow, like a big happy family you take up every seat in Matty’s car and it’s a chaotic thirty minute drive that makes your heart swell inside your chest.

The afternoon of the 24th, it is starting to snow outside and you two are cosied up on the settee with a shitty American Christmas film playing in the background as you go through your pictures throughout the years.

“Ross, look at you!” you coo loudly when you find a polaroid of him with a birthday hat on which is dated June 6th 2003. “A baby!”

He grimaces at the look of his long hair, styled to the side of his forehead and brushed down and straight like a cow had licked it, “Ugh, that’s a mess.”

You scoff and chat back, “No, you were so cute,” before going back to pouting over the picture of him.

He hadn’t started growing proper facial hair yet and he looked like a baby after he had shaved the patchy beard he always got back then. Nostalgia hits you as you remember how cute you thought he was back then and you still do. Somehow, your crush on your boyfriend only gets stronger with time.

“‘Were’?” he questions you with a raise of his brows.

You want to laugh at him for sticking to that bit of your words but swallow it to tease, “Yeah, ‘were’.”

A screech leaves you when his fingers come to mercilessly tickle your sides and you thrash around the settee as he comes to hover over you and continue his attack.

It’s a mix of shrieks and cackles and begs for him to stop that fill the room and overpower the sound of Will Ferrell’s voice, the pictures have all spilled on the floor as you kicked your legs and waved your arms around helplessly.

“Baby, stop!” you beg again and this time he listens, leaning in to press a bunch of kisses all over your face before pulling back and helping you sit back up on the settee.

The two of you start gathering the pictures from the floor then and sorting them through the years. But it is then that you notice the gap in between years, when you had been so foolish to ruin things all because of your bitterness.

The sorrowful words leave you as you flip through the handful of pictures from 2006 and the clear difference with only the few from 2007 and then the lack of them from 2008 to 2011. “So many years with no pictures…”

Ross blames it on him though, “I was an idiot.”

But you won’t let him take the blame all on his own, “Oh babe, I was too.”

He smiles sadly at the pictures but when he looks at you, his smile grows wider, “We’ll make up for it.”

His hand brushes your hair behind your ears and you nod, agreeing, “Definitely,” before kissing the palm of his hand softly.

Your boyfriend’s face melts in adoration and his voice drops an octave as he speaks, “I’m never letting you go, you know that right?”

The stupidest smile tugs at the corners of your mouth then before you reply, “I wouldn’t dream of ever leaving.”

Carefully setting the pictures aside, he shuffles closer to you and kisses you soft and sweet. His lips move on your with the same intent that his fingers dig into your cheeks.

Your hands come over his, wanting to keep his touch there, for him to never stop holding you like this and he confirms that he’ll never even think of doing it when he pulls back and mumbles against your lips, “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

The fluttering in your belly and the electricity that buzzes through you never dwindles, no matter how many times you hear him say that.

Nothing’s been easier and felt more natural in your life than saying it back, “Love you so much more, babe.”

You love telling him how much you love him and you love even more seeing his cheeks tint pink when he hears you say it. He always struggles maintaining eye contact after you let it slip past your lips like he can’t help but become putty in your hands when you utter those three words to him.

And you can’t help but giggle at the effect you have on him.

He basically throws himself forward and hides his face in your neck, but he forgets his size and strength for he makes you tumble backwards and fall on the settee with him over you, stealing your breath away.

He doesn’t move when you groan about him crushing you, he only nuzzles in your neck more and you just let it happen. Having him on top of you is your favourite feeling in the world after all, so you just let him melt over you and you even bring your hands up to his head, scratching his head and massaging his scalp. He moans and groans, getting you all flustered in the process.

You can hear his breathing evening out and his heartbeat becoming more regular, so you know he’s about to fall asleep and you smile at the thought of falling asleep like this right now, but the front door opens and your parents walk back into the house with a handful of bags each.

“Did you buy everything mum?” you ask like you have every year since the potato fiasco in 2002.

“Yes,” she calls back with an annoyed sigh like every year.

But you keep taunting her, “Didn’t forget a thing?”

She indulges you as she sing-songs, “Not one.”

You hum, continuing to play with Ross’ hair, “How about the potatoes?”

Ross smirks at your taunting and shakes his head. But then your mum tiredly answers from the kitchen, “They’re here, who do you think I–...”

The trailing off has you and Ross holding your breaths, and then you hear your mum’s loud cursing, “Oh bollocks!”

And the two of you can’t stop the cackles that leave you.

Trying to speak in between laughter is hard and your mum can barely make out your words when you ask, “Did you forget the potatoes?”

“Yeah…”

Tears spill from your eyes as you continue to laugh, “You’ve got something against them I swear, woman.”

“Could you go get some, please?” your mum asks, seeing that there’s still some time left before the shops close down.

You sigh tiredly but actually give in, “Sure.”

Ross leans in and kisses your lips softly and, unfortunately, very briefly.

“Don’t worry. I got it,” he whispers against your mouth, a hint of cockiness in his tone that makes you smirk and play along to what he’s trying to do.

“Will you take some Christmas cookies in exchange for them?” your fingers continue playing with his hair, but you pout to try and play onto the pity you want him to take on you.

He hums like he’s thinking about it but he settles for something else, “Actually, I’ll take a kiss.”

“Just one?” you question with your brows raised.

He gasps like it’s a miracle you’re offering more than one, “Oh well, if you’re feeling generous.”

Your fingers trail down the sides of his face until you can rub circles on his cheeks with your thumbs, “Christmas is all about giving, isn’t it?”

The words echo inside his mind, and he smirks harder knowing what he’s meant to say, “I guess it is.”

A breathy chuckle leaves you, and he steals it by smashing your lips together. Every time he kisses you, you lose track of time and everything around you loses its meaning. You’re completely blinded by him, overcome by his existence, full of everything he has to give you.

Unfortunately, you can’t continue losing yourself in him for your mum shouts from the kitchen, “Oi! Go get the potatoes, you two!”

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N: This was actually so much fun to plot but a bit tricky to write, so I truly hope you enjoyed the final product!! Kinda wishing I wrote more holiday themed fics now, but I promise I'll try to bring more of them soon, as many as my heart can take lol. I'll take this opportunity to thank you for reading and sending in your reactions, for accompanying me through this crazy year. Love yous so much and I wish you all the happiest new year!!! MWAHHH xxxx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @kennedy-brooke @abiiors @everythinggetsfuzzy103 @on-administrative-leave @ughgoaway @harryssiren @2kwreck @obses-sedd @scarlett-grace-2 @taylorswiftsrep-blog @solitariodecartas @cherryofmydesire @momentum2023 @soggynoodles02 @poisonmedaddy13 @k4tie75

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chosos-mascara · 2 years

Text

Sharing - Geto Suguru x Reader x Gojo Satoru

cw: threesome, mentions of cheating, poly!relationship

Satoru and Suguru find out you've been seeing the pair of them behind the other's back.

minors+ageless dni. 1.3k words

a little rushed as i've been away for the past few days!

"You thought we wouldn't find out?" Suguru's voice filled your ears, fuelled with rage. Eyebrows furrowed, mouth pulled into a frown, he grabbed your shirt, gripping so tightly his knuckles turned white. Pulling you toward him, you couldn't look away from his face, ignoring his and Satoru's gaze up until now. "I-I don't know," You spoke softly, in great contrast to the deep booming that had been leaving Suguru's mouth moments before. As you looked into his eyes, you felt guilt. "I can't pick between you, I'm sorry." Tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to fall as you'd realised that you'd just lost the two men you'd cared for the most.

"You should've spoken to us about it, y/n." Satoru was soft with you, bringing his hand to fall on your cheek. You could tell he was hurt, pressure building in your chest as you looked over him. "I'm so sorry." No longer able to face the men, your eyes fell back into their previous position, trailing the carpet beneath the kneeling Suguru, slouching as he loosened his grip on you.

The last month had consisted of seeing both men, separately. You hadn't meant for it to go as far as it had, but you'd somehow ended up sleeping with them, and gaining some-sort of emotional attachment. You'd told yourself you could try them both, and see which you'd preferred, however time only made matters worse. There was no way you'd be able to choose, now you'd gotten to know both men better.

You'd recieved a phone call from Suguru only an hour ago, requesting you to come to his. What you'd assumed to be a booty-call had ended up with him angrily flipping out after speaking to Satoru, finding out that the pair of men had both been romantically, or rather, sexually, involved with you simultaneously. They were close friends, it was expected for them to eventually find out.

Suguru's face didn't falter from the fury behind it, unable to fathom your betrayal - if he could even call it that. The matter was, you two didn't label yourselves, it had been a more friends with benefits style arrangement, though he'd just assumed you wouldn't be seeing anyone else. His best friend, of all people. If anyone else, he could play it off, but knowing how Satoru was, neither of them would win.

"Why don't we just share?" Satoru asked, causing both you and his best friend to peer into his direction, sorrowed expressions suddenly contorting into that of confusion. "What?" You couldn't put together a sentence through the bewilderment that had cascaded through your mind, brain becoming a jumble of anarchy as you'd looked over the seriousness of his expression. "Suguru and I have slept together before." Satoru admitted, your mouth falling open in shock as you glanced between himself, and the now red-faced brunette. "We can be a throuple, no?" He was nervous, you could sense it, but played it off as if it had been with full confidence. You stuttered, breath catching in your throat as you froze in awe. Suguru's body language had been similar to yours, with hesitance, but knowing he couldn't deny the fact that the suggestion was what the three of you had desired.

"Okay." You replied weakly, suppressing the tears that had previously fallen, squeezing your eyes closed to let the last few drops of the liquid expel before opening them once more, to see Satoru joining Suguru on the floor before you. You watched as he leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss on the brunette's cheek, before resting his hand on your thigh. You were sat on the edge of the bed, admiring the two males kneeling before you as they turned to press their lips to one another.

A sight you didn't think you'd ever be blessed enough to see, the men you'd loved, sharing such intimacy between them. Their mouths moved in synchrony, lust and fondness woven between them, as if they'd been the only two men to exist. It wasn't completely without you, though. Each of them had squeezed at your thighs, holding one each reassuringly.

Wide eyed, you watched as they pulled back, nervousness radiating from the pair as they turned to look at you. You swallowed back the anxiousness, and emotion, you'd felt previously, leaning forward to wrap your arms around their shoulders, moving to sit over their laps. The boys nestled into you in sync, mirroring one another as they placed their lips to your cheeks, trailing off in opposite directions on your skin.

Satoru found the spot on your neck that had caused you to gasp, Suguru moving to slip his tongue in your mouth. You'd been able to taste the other male's mouth in his, a hum leaving your lips as you embraced what was happening around you, and to you.

There had been hands all over one another, Suguru's groping both your side and Satoru's thigh, while the white-haired male had your neck and Suguru's hip. There had been a little over-stimulation knitted in to having two men on you, though you'd assumed they'd felt similarly too, as each one of you had reciprocated the other's actions gratefully.

You pulled away from them, the first to make a move regarding anything other than making out, pulling the top you'd worn above your head, to expose the bra beneath. They followed suit, and before long all three of you had been in nothing but underwear. Moving to the bed, Satoru sat down at the headboard, pulling his friend down beside him, leaning back on the oak frame. You were pulled to position on all fours, head between Satoru's legs, lips grazing his erection. Wrapping your mouth around him, you bob your head down, slowly reaching the base of his cock.

Glancing to the brunette beside him, you watched as Satoru's pale hand reached to grasp at Suguru, long fingers wrapping around his dick, moving up and down in the rhythm you'd been working at. His head fell back, eyes closing and mouth ajar as he accepted the handjob, hips rolling upward into his palm. It was hard to tear your gaze from their reactions, but you tried to focus yourself on Satoru's pleasure. Hollowing out your cheeks, you came up, removing your suction on him. Tracing your tongue over his head, you followed down to lick around his length, as if it had been doused in honey, or an icepop beginning to melt. After teasing yourself over him for a few moments, you brought back the warmth of your mouth around him, taking him into your throat.

This earned a whine from Satoru, hips bucking upward to hump into your face. You gagged around him, eyes watering as his needy thrust had meant pushing himself to your body's limit, barely able to accommodate the size. He didn't seem to care much though, repeatedly fucking into your throat. Soft moans left his throat, spare hand reaching to entangle within the locks of your hair, forcing you into place.

Unable to see through glassy eyes and the impact of being throat fucked, you'd had to rely only on your hearing to know how far Suguru had been, his much deeper groans signalling his pleasure. They were less frequent than Satoru's, more similar to a growl than the whimpers that left the other male.

You felt a liquid douse your mouth as Satoru moaned louder, pulling your hair in the grip he'd had on you. You'd been unable to move until he'd finished, his body stiffening up and clenching, muscles contracting as his eyes had rolled into the back of his head. Suguru followed suit, the familiar raspy breaths falling from him; gasps through gritted teeth. Pulling away from the cock your mouth had been situated around, a thick glob of spit connecting the pair of you, you watched as the last shot of seed left Suguru, body falling limp between his hurried twitches.

You swallowed back the residues of Satoru's orgasm, sitting upright with a smile across your cheeks, using the back of your hand to wipe away the mixture of saliva and tears that had coated your face.

#satoru x suguru #suguru smut #suguru x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #satoru smut #geto smut

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fallingforunrealisticromance · 1 year

Text

High for love - Sherlock x reader

Request: "Can i request prompt #16 with BBC sherlock please? x"

Prompt: I may or may not be a tiny bit in love with you. Okay maybe a lot in love with you but that's beside the point.

A/N: I am thinking of doing a part two to this if people want? Let me know what you guys think!!

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of drug use.

PART TWO HERE

Word count: 2804.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

You ran your hands through your hair as you paced back and forth in your boyfriends apartment. You didn’t ant to dump him – well no that’s a lie otherwise you wouldn’t be doing it- but your reasoning didn’t feel valid. But surely it was better to cut it off now, rather than stringing him along the whole time? Before you could debate the subject anymore, the keys jangled in the lock and there he was.

‘hi baby’ He smiled as he dropped his bag, walking over to hug you. ‘’god I’ve missed you, work was hell. Julie, you know the one from the dinner party we went to last week, she didn’t do any of here paperwork so we were backlogged the whole day and it’s just insane-‘’

‘’Tom, can you stop for a second?’’ You blurted out, cutting him off.

You saw his brow flinch in confusion as he stepped back slightly at your tone.

‘’Is everything okay?’’ The genuine concern in his voice pulled at your heart strings.

Tom was perfect, he’s everything you could want in a guy. He was kind, compassionate, funny – he’d had you in tears from laughing so hard more times than you could count. You felt so happy when you were with him and you knew you could tell him anything and he would love you all the same. Yet here you were, about to break this poor man’s heart. And why? All because of some stupid detective you’d fallen for months ago.

‘’I need to talk to you about something’’ Your hands shook as you spoke, which of course Tom noticed.

‘’Hey you’re okay, whatever it is you know you can tell me. I’m here for you.’’ His words weren’t making this any easier.

He reached out to take your hands but the thought of him touching you right now made your stomach turn, guilt consuming you. His expression dropped when you moved away from him, clearly on edge now as well.

‘’Y/N?’’ He questioned.

You couldn’t even look at him, opting to stare at your hands instead. You took a shaky breath trying to compose yourself. ‘This is the right thing to do’ You told yourself.

‘’We need to break up.’’

It felt unreal as those words left your mouth. A heavy pause settled across the room, both of you taking in what had just been said. You glanced up at Tom, expecting him to get angry. Instead he just stared at you, a blank expression on his face.

‘’Tom?’’ you asked tentatively.

He just nodded slowly, processing what he had heard.

‘’Okay. Um, wow I wasn’t excepting that’’ He let out a shocked laugh. ‘’What changed? Did I do something?’’

You stepped towards him slightly. ‘’No, Tom, no. You were-are amazing. Truly. I’ve been so lucky to have you in my life. It’s just-‘’

You didn’t even know how to phrase it.

‘’It’s Sherlock.’’ You spat out, your face burning with shame.

You knew you hadn’t cheated, not physically. But the fact you were in love with another man while being in a relationship somehow felt like a bigger betrayal. And Tom deserved better.

‘’Your in love with him, aren’t you?’’ Tom’s voice broke through your thoughts.

You nodded, not sure what words would help the situation. You were waiting for tom to yell, telling you how awful you were before demanding you to leave. But it never came.

‘’I know you love me. That’s evident. But if I’m not the one your in love with, then I can’t stand in the way of that.’’ His tone was soft, deflated almost.

You looked up at him, seeing the sorrow laced in his eyes. It hurt to see.

‘’I’m sorry. I know it might not mean anything to you, but I truly never wanted to hurt you.’’ You said, keeping your voice low.

It almost felt wrong to break the quiet around the two of you.

‘’I know.’’ Was all he said, before hugging you tightly. The two of your stayed like that, holding each other for a while.

‘’Go and tell him then’’ Tom said, sighing slightly as he pulled away.

You chuckled stiffly at his words before grabbing your bag and heading to his door.

‘’I’ll see you around then’’ He called.

You nodded and walked out the door, a few tears welling in your eyes as you closed it behind you. What had you done? You didn’t even know if sherlock liked you back. There was a huge possibility he didn’t, actually it would be the surprise of the century if he did. Sherlock didn’t do feelings, or romantic relationships. He’s more than cable of it, but as he likes to remind you constantly, it only distracts from his work. As you were thinking this, your phone rang. Speak of the devil.

‘’Hello?’’

‘’Ah, y/n, where are you?’’ Sherlocks voice swum through the speakers.

‘’On the way home, what’s up?’’

‘’Me and john are working on a case, come over would you?’’

‘’Sherlock, I’m tired can I just help you guys out tomorrow?’’ As much as you wanted to tell him how you felt, you were worn thin emotionally right now and did not have the energy to face either him or john.

‘’What’s wrong with you? He asked sharply.

‘’Nothings wrong okay, I just want to go home and rest’’ You sighed, slightly annoyed.

‘’y/n I’ve seen you quite literally collapse from exhaustion due to helping us out before’’

‘’well god forbid I start to look after myself’’ you shot back sarcastically.

‘’No what I’m saying is, you being tired has never been an issue before. So why now? Something must be wrong?’’

You rolled your eyes at his words.

‘’Fine if you must know I just broke up with Tom. Yes I’m fine, no I don’t want to talk about it and no he didn’t do anything wrong. Now can we please talk more tomorrow?’’ You snapped, harsher than intended.

There was a pause on the other line.

‘’Did you hear me?’’

‘’What- sorry yes I got distracted. See you tomorrow’’ Sherlocks words were sharp as he hung up the phone before giving you the chance to respond.

You sighed and pocketed your phone, continuing your journey home.

**************************THE NEXT DAY***********************

You jolted upright, your eyes having no time to focus as your head whipped round searching for the cause of the noise that had disrupted your sleep. Eventually you fumbled around enough to find your phone, clicking the answer button before reading the name of the caller.

‘’What?’’ You said, your voice sounding groggy.

‘’Hello Y/N’’ A familiar voice replied.

But not one you heard often. Something was wrong.

‘’Mycroft?’’ You eyes widened, suddenly alert. ‘’What’s going on? What’s happened?’’

You heard the older Holmes sigh through the phone.

‘’My brother went missing earlier tonight and-‘’

‘’WHAT? Where is he? Is he hurt? Oh my god right I’m coming over-‘’ You scrambled to get out of your bed, dropping the phone in the process.

‘’Shit’’ You threw yourself over the side of the bed to grab it. However, you miscalculated how close you were to the edge and promptly fell off with a rather loud thud as you landed in a crumpled heap next to your phone.

‘’Ow’’ You grumbled before finally picking your phone back up. ‘’Hello? Are you still there?’’

‘’Are you quite alright? That was an awful lot of noise’’ Mycroft asked, sounding more agitated then worried but that didn’t surprise you.

‘’Yep, yes all fine. Now where the hell is sherlock? Shouldn’t you be out looking for him instead of calling me?’’

‘’Well as I was saying before you interrupted me, we’ve already found him. He’s been taken back home and is currently with John.’’ Mycroft continued.

You furrowed your brow in confusion.

‘’Then why are you calling me? You do know it’s literally 3 in the morning. I was sleeping’’ You shuffled on the floor so you could lean back up against your bed, still feeling the tiredness wash over you.

‘’He may be home but he isn’t exactly…well, sober’’ The unease was evident in Mycroft’s tone as he spoke.

Even though he would probably deny it at any turn, he cared for sherlock deeper than he’d ever cared for anything. As did sherlock for Mycroft. They truly wouldn’t be the same without each other, even if they were both too stubborn to admit to it.

‘’What can I do?’’ You said with a sigh.

‘’Go and talk to him. He seems to trust you. Possibly even more than he does john Find out why he’s using again’’

You held your head in your hands. You hated seeing sherlock high. It hurt you to see him resort to such methods. Even if it was for a case. That man was willing to dance with death in order to prove he’s right about something.

‘’Okay’’ You replied reluctantly.

‘’There will be a car outside for you. Update me as soon as you can.’’ And with that, he hung up.

You took a few minutes to compose yourself, before getting up. You decided against getting changed, you figured showing up in some plaid pyjama trousers and the black vest top you’d fallen asleep in would suffice. You grabbed a jacket before slipping on your trainers and heading out of your flat. Sure enough when you got to the lobby of your apartment building, there was a sleek black car waiting to take you to Baker Street.

The whole ride there you were thinking about what to stay. I mean what exactly are you mean to say to someone who’s probably higher than the Eiffel tower right now. Even now as you stood waiting for someone to open the door, you were coming up empty.

‘’Oh y/n hello dear!’' '

’Mrs. Hudson greeted you warmly as she opened the door for you. ‘’Hi Mrs. Hudson. How are you?’’ You smiled at her.

You’d always been rather fond of her. She was endlessly kind towards you, welcoming you with open arms without any hesitation.

‘’I’m good thank you. You haven’t been round in a while. Come in, come in. We don’t need you freezing on the doorstep now do we.’’ She ushered you in closing the door behind you.

‘’No, I know things have been a bit mental at work lately, I’ve been meaning to swing by. I’m sorry it has to be in the middle of the night. I’m sure you don’t appreciate being woken up by all this.’’ You gesture up the stairs as you spoken.

She just shook her head. ‘’Nonsense darling, I don’t mind at all. You’re welcome at any time. As for Sherlock, well all I can say is at least he isn’t shooting my wall to pieces again.’’ She chuckled as she spoke. ‘’You’d better get up there, see if you can talk any sense into him’’

You nodded, looking towards the stairs ‘’Yeah, I guess. I’ll see you in a bit’’ You took a deep breath, before walking upstairs.

Sherlock must have heard you because suddenly you heard his voice calling your name rather excitedly. You went to open his door but he’d clearly got there before you, flinging it open. ‘

’Y/n, you’re here! John look, it’s y/n’’ Sherlock grinned at you, his eyes wide.

‘’Yeah I can see that, I’m not blind’’ john retorted from behind the detective.

‘’Hi’’ You said, chuckling nervously.

‘’You’re bloody amazing you know that?’’ Sherlock said.

You went to reply but were cut off by Sherlocks arms wrapping around you, pulling your body close to his as he rested his head on your shoulder. You let out a gasp as your arms hung awkwardly by your side. What the fuck had he taken? Just as quickly as the hug had begun, it was over as he pulled away from you still smiling. He turned and walked back into his apartment, focusing on some paper work spread out on his desk. You just stood there, a shocked expression smacked across your face.

‘’You okay there?’’ John asked, shaking you slightly. You blinked at him before nodding your head.

‘’What has gotten into him? Well drugs apparently, but he’s never normally this…’’

‘’Happy? Elevated? Fucking insane?’’ john suggested, looking over at the man who was now in a heated discussion with a skull that he kept on the fireplace.

‘’Yeah. I mean usually when he’s been caught high, he’s all grumpy and just curls up in a ball probably hoping we all shut up and leave him alone. But this, this is new’’

‘’are you saying you prefer the moody, short tempered bastard version of these events?’’ John asked raising an eyebrow at you.

You watched Sherlock move around the flat rather erratically, a feeling of discomfort forming a pit in your stomach.

‘’I don’t know yet’’ You replied honestly.

‘Ah y/n, come here’’ Sherlock waved you over to him, where he was now sat back down at his desk.

You shrugged your jacket off walking over to him, leaning against the desk.

‘’You need something?’’ You asked him, folding your arms.

He broke his gaze away from his laptop, looking up at you. His eyes took their time gazing over your figure making you shuffle nervously under his stare.

‘’You truly are beautiful you know.’’ His words sounded so genuine, you were taken a back. ‘’Anyway, I needed to ask you something but I forgot what it was. I’m sure it’ll come back to me’’ And with that, he shrugged and immediately went back to typing away on his laptop.

You just stared down at him. Sherlock never complimented you, or if he did the most you got was a short ‘’well done’’ or ‘’good job’’. He had never commented on your appearance, only ever on your work and he had most certainly never called you beautiful.

‘’AH’’ Sherlock clapped his hands together, making you jump. ‘’that’s what I was going to say, I remember now. It’s not a question mind you.’’ You rolled your eyes, slowly getting more agitated.

‘’What was it then?’’

‘’I may or may not be a tiny bit in love with you. Okay maybe a lot in love with you but that’s besides the point’’

For about the third time that night, you were stunned to silence. What. The. Fuck. There was no way you had just heard him say that.

‘’I need a drink do you want anything?’’ Sherlock asked as he got up and walked to the kitchen.

That’s when reality hit you. He didn’t mean it, he was high. It was just the drugs elevating his mood. He cared for you, you knew that. But now with whatever he’s taken he clearly thinks he loves you But he doesn’t. He’s made it perfectly clear in the past how he feels about love and relationships. Maybe he’d picked up that you had feelings for him and was now using them against you as some kind of joke? It wouldn’t surprise you. You’re heart sank as you faced the reality of the situation.

‘’Fuck you man’’ You mumbled as you moved yourself away from the desk.

‘’What?’’ Sherlock turned to see you with your back to him, standing by the sofa. ‘’Was that to me?’’

‘’Well it sure as shit wasn’t to john’’ You snapped, running your fingers through your hair.

‘’What did I do?’’ Sherlock asked. For the first time this evening, he looked sober. He looked like him again.

‘’You know what you did, you prick. Look it might be all a joke and funny to you now because you decided to go and inject fuck knows what into your body yet again – but the way I feel is not something I’m letting you mess with. Not anymore.’’ You grabbed your jumper, throwing it on before heading to the door.

‘Y/n wait please-‘’

‘’Make sure to tell Mycroft what you took. He wants to know’’ You said before heading down the stairs and rushing out the door, tears slipping down your face.

Your phone rang in your pocket. You knew it was sherlock and you had no interest of talking to him. Not now, or any time soon. First Tom, and now this. You were exhausted and you didn’t want to deal with any men for the foreseeable future. But part of you wondered, what if he’d meant it? Was there any way he truly could love you? You shook your head dismissing your thoughts. No, he wasn’t thinking straight. By the morning he probably won’t even remember what it is he said to you. What a fun conversation that would be. But you would deal with that later. For now all you wanted to do was go home, curl up, fall asleep and forget about the rather handsome detective.

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