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theemporium · 5 months

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[3.5k] after his iconic first race win in formula one, lando gets to celebrate with his three favourite people. or, the charlandax smut i accidentally promised after a lando win with a lestappen podium. (smut)

note: this is fucking filthy and i kinda feel like i need to go to a confession booth. okay bye, nobody perceive me after this. she’s also unedited so beware (I’m too lazy to reread and edit rn)

Lando Norris felt like he was on top of the fucking world but maybe that was just how it felt from the top step of the podium.

It hadn’t really hit him yet, despite his ears ringing from his own screams and the cheers from the crowd and the fans and his own team. It didn’t feel real until the national anthem began playing through the speakers, until he heard his team singing along, until he realised this was his reality.

He was a Grand Prix winner.

Finally.

Surreal was the only word to describe how he felt. After years of second-place and third-place podium finishes, of people telling him his time would come, of having so many close calls, he did it. He fucking did it. And he didn’t just skim a win, it was fully fucking his as he soared past the chequered flag.

And for once, Lando basked in the knowledge that all eyes were on him. It didn’t give him that prickling, itching feeling under his skin. It didn’t make him want to hunch his shoulders up to his ears. It didn’t make the little voice in the back of his head send him spiralling over every little thing he could be doing wrong.

He had just won the Miami Grand Prix and everyone was staring at him and he fucking loved it.

But it meant more than just a win to Lando, it meant so much more than a trophy to add to his collection back home. It was about the years spent achieving this dream. It was about the effort and the support he had from the team to reach this point. It was about sharing this moment and standing on the podium with two people who meant the fucking world to him with the third watching all three of them from down below.

It meant the fucking world to Lando.

It was a blur of happiness and excitement and adrenaline as he stood on that top step. It felt like he was in a movie when the trophy was handed to him, the number one staring back at him like it was reminding him he had done it. It felt like a fucking dream when the champagne celebration started, his hand barely wrapped around the neck of the bottle when Charles and Max drenched and drowning him in champagne.

It was completely fucking unbelievable this was finally his reality.

Time was a blur of big smiles, loud cheers and so many people congratulating him. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, it made something in his chest burst with pride as he felt his team slap him on the back as he walked through the garage. He felt like his life was complete when you threw your arms around him, tugging him close until your bodies felt like one.

“M’so cold,” he murmured as he wound his arms around you, holding you closer as he buries his face into your neck for some privacy, despite the countless cameras pointing at him.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered back, just loud enough for him to hear because he was the only one who mattered in that moment. “This is the first of many.”

He sniffled, feeling his throat close up a bit but he just squeezed you tighter when the words didn’t come out as smoothly as he wanted.

However, you were pulled away from him seconds later as he was directed towards the camera. With media duties and team debriefs and many more commitments, he didn’t have time to stop and celebrate with the people he wanted. He had to perform for the cameras, for the fans, for the people watching before he could.

And honestly, he couldn't complain. There were worse problems to have.

His brain was running a million miles an hour, so many thoughts and feelings and emotions to try and comprehend that he barely noticed the other person in his driver’s room until the door shut behind him and he felt a pair of lips on his.

“I am so proud of you, mon champion,” Charles murmured against his lips, the kiss short-lived due to the huge smile on his face. He pulled back enough to look at Lando properly, his hands holding the Brit’s face. “So, so proud of you.”

Lando felt his cheeks burn. “M’glad you and Max were up there with me,” he admitted, that funny feeling in his chest returning before he glanced around the room noticing that Charles was the only one in his driver room. “Where are the others?” Pause. “How did you even sneak in here?”

“I have my ways,” Charles answered vaguely, his eyes glinting with mischief. “And I’m here to help you hurry up. They are waiting in the car.”

Lando snorted. “And they sent you to hurry me up?”

“I may have come third, mon amour, but I’m still fast.”

Despite his words, it took a few more minutes of Charles pressing kisses all over his face and mumbling a load of French that Lando didn’t understand before he was finally able to grab his belongings and make it out of the McLaren motorhome.

His whole body was buzzing with energy, far too hyped up to even care about the way his face burned when he climbed into the backseat of Charles’ race weekend car, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

This.

This was what he had been waiting for.

This moment to be with the people who loved more than his heart knew he was capable of. A moment to be with the people who believed in him no matter what, even when the rest of the world doubted him.

And if Lando was being so completely honest, he was so lost in the buzz of his win that he didn’t think anything about your hand resting on his upper thigh. He was still lost in the race a few hours ago, still lost in the feeling of crossing the line and hearing Will’s voice over the radio confirming he secured his first Formula One Grand Prix win.

So lost in that moment that he barely had a chance to drop his backpack on the floor of Max’s huge hotel suite before the Dutchman was reaching for him. With the privacy of the hotel room door locked from the rest of the world, Max didn’t hold back as he raked his hand through Lando’s curls. His fingers twisted in his hair, tugging sharply as his teeth nipped the Brit’s bottom lip.

Lando couldn’t help himself when he let out a whine.

“Fuck,” Max groaned, tugging on his hair again as he watched Lando’s eyes flutter shut. “Look at our race winner, hm? So pretty, schat.”

Lando’s lips parted but words were lost on him. Instead, his eyes darted where you saddled up against Max’s side, head resting on his shoulder as you looked at Lando with a massive grin.

“I think you broke him,” you teased, a faux pout on your lips. “Guess that throws all our plans out the window.”

Lando blinked before quickly shaking his head. “I—no, wait, what plans?”

Max grinned. “Your reward, baby. Didn’t think we were gonna celebrate your big day, huh?”

“I—” Lando paused, feeling something deep in his stomach twist in desire. “I just…I don’t know. I thought we were gonna go out…or something.”

“We could,” Charles spoke up as he slipped in behind Lando, his hands on the younger boy’s waist. “If that’s what you want. We can go out and celebrate with everyone else.”

Lando swallowed. “Or?”

“Or,” you repeated, your eyes lingering on his kiss-swollen lips. “You let us treat you like a proper race winner.”

“And what does that treatment include?” Lando asked, because that was just who he was. That little brat in him that wanted to know his options, that wanted to know exactly how he was being rewarded, who wanted to know exactly what was getting done to him. The little brat in him that was mouthy and sassy and usually got put in his place—that wanted to be put in his place.

And Max knew that. He knew that if he reached down, Lando was probably half-hard already. He knew that no matter what he said, Land would be down for it. He could see the glint in the Brit’s eyes, that realisation of what he could have without realising it.

“Anything you want,” Max murmured, his thumb lightly tracing along Lando’s bottom lip. “You’re the winner, Lando. Our winner.”

…

Anything you want.

That was his limit—completely fucking endless. He had all the control in the palm of his hands to do whatever he pleased, whatever he desired, whatever he fucking wanted.

But that wasn’t what Lando wanted. He didn’t want to be in charge. He didn’t want to be the person making the calls and decisions. That wasn’t his role in the bedroom and he never really wanted to be. He liked being the one who got to lay back, the one that people tried to tame and dominate only to realise he didn’t listen as easily as people wanted.

He liked being the one that people worked to break.

So, that was exactly what Max gave to him and Lando only slightly regretted his decision as he slumped back against the Dutchman, grinding his ass back against the older boy’s straining cock as he threw his head back against Max’s shoulder.

“Please, please, please,” Lando whined, trying to buck his hips forwards but Max kept his body in place, just where he wanted him. “S’too much.”

“I know, schatje,” Max mused, pressing a lingering kiss at the base of his neck just to hear Lando let out a small moan at the contact. “But look how pretty they look for you, all for you. You don’t want them to stop, do you?”

But Lando couldn’t bring himself to respond.

“None of that,” Max muttered, squeezing Lando’s sides to get the boy to listen. “Thought my winner was gonna be good for me, huh? Look at them, Lando. Look how good they are being for you. Look at how much they are enjoying this.”

The boy only managed to let out a whimper as he fluttered his eyes open, his chin tucking into his chest as he looked down at the sight Max was demanding of him.

And, fuck, it made his knees buckle.

The two of you were absolute fucking messes. It felt like something out of a porno, one that would have Lando panting and whining and fantasising about because never once did he think it was realistic. And yet, here you and Charles were, looking like something out of his deepest desires.

He couldn’t focus on one of you, it would have been a crime to not stare and ogle you both. The way you both looked utterly perfect on your knees in front of him, glossy eyes and flushed cheeks and looking so fucking blissed out as you both worshipped his cock—like you were fulfilling a purpose, like this was what the two of you were made for.

And it was messy as fuck, something that maybe would have been gross to everyone else in the world, but Lando thought it was so fucking hot. The evidence of his previous orgasms splattered across you both, covering your lips and chins and naked chests. The way your lips wrapped around the head of his cock as Charles licked down the underside of his cock until he nosed Lando's balls. The way Charles had one hand wrapped around his leaking cock, pumping and stroking himself as you squeezed and played with your tits like it would give you some relief.

But it wasn’t about your pleasure or Charles’ or Max’s.

It was all about Lando.

“Such good sluts on their knees for you,” Max muttered, lips brushing against his ear as his warm breath tickled against Lando’s skin. “Usually that’s you, schat. Getting on your knees for me, doing whatever I tell you.”

“Fuck,” he let out in a breathless whimper, turning his head to try and nuzzle his face into Max’s neck.

“Do you like this, Lando? Like seeing them be such whores for your cock? So desperate and needy?” Max continued, his hands tightening on the younger boy’s waist as he looked down at you and Charles.

You let out a whine at his words, your thighs clenched together and your eyes fluttering shut as you traced your tongue along the slit of his cock. Your moans vibrated around his cock, leaving the boy a puddle underneath your touch as Charles placed wet, open-mouthed kisses along his balls.

“Bet they would stay there all night if you wanted them to,” Max mused as his eyes caught teary green eyes staring up at him, desperation shining in the pretty colour of them. “Bet Charles would love to take your cock down his pretty throat, he always does it so well for me. Hm, amour? Think you could take our pretty winner’s cock like a good boy?”

The sound Charles let out was pitiful and straight out of a fucking porno.

“Max,” Lando breathed out, his hands reaching back to try and grab onto the Dutchman. “Please, I-I need…”

“What do you need?” Max questioned, squeezing his sides. “Need more than their mouths, baby? Or maybe you need more than that.”

Lando felt his whole face burn as he let out a shameless moan when one of Max’s hands began wandering, when his fingers brushed along his skin before squeezing the fat of his ass.

“The champagne wasn’t enough, hm? Maybe we need to fill you up,” Max suggested, like it was something as casual as talking about dinner options. “Bet you’d feel so nice and tight around me, baby. Maybe let Charles fill your pretty throat instead.”

“Please,” Lando whined.

“Yeah, you want that?” He could feel Max’s smile against his skin. “Let our pretty girl bounce on your cock whilst we fill you up? She would look so pretty sitting on top of you.”

Lando nodded his head vigorously, his nails slightly digging into Max’s skin. “I need it, Max, need it so bad.”

Max’s teeth scraped along the side of his neck. “Beg for it.”

So he did.

He begged for it until his voice was hoarse and his legs were shaking and his babbles were practically incoherent. He begged until he felt Max’s lips on his skin, joined by Charles and yours moments later as you three kissed and worshipped every inch of his body. He begged until his face was burning red, his blush spreading down his neck and chest as you praised him—your race winner—until he couldn’t take it any more.

He begged for it as you held his face, prepping kisses all over his face whilst Max worked him open.

He begged for it as Charles marked along his neck and chest to help him relax as Max slowly slid inside him, stretching him open until he was a whimpering mess.

He begged for it as you slowly sunk down on his cock, your cunt already soaking and slick with your own arousal as he buried himself inside you.

He begged for it until his hands were gripping Charles’ thighs, nails digging into his skin as he urged his cock further down his throat until he felt fucking full.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned, rocking your hips back and forth as you let your hands skim along his skin. Your fingers traced along the planes of his abs, watching them softly clench under your touch before you traced along his sides. You kept your hands moving, feeling the need to touch every fucking inch of him as he preened and squirmed under your touch. “You look so perfect like this.”

Lando let out a muffled moan around Charles’ cock.

“Letting us fill you up, make you feel so good,” you continued, the walls of your pussy clenching around him. “This is what our race winner deserves. So pretty and fast today, baby, it’s so hot.”

One of his hands let go of Charles, blindly reaching out towards you until you caught the hint to intertwine your fingers together. You raised it to your lips, pressing a soft kiss onto the back of his hand and something about the soft gesture whilst his body was being fucked into an inch of his life made the boy spiral.

He couldn’t do anything but just take it, let the overwhelming pleasure wash over him until his whole body felt like it was on fire. His nerve endings felt like they had been turned up beyond the dial, like every touch was more thrilling than he could ever imagine. The words of praise was a muffled mess around him, three voices all mixed together as he felt hands all over his body. He felt safe, he felt full, he felt complete.

It was a blur of too much pleasure and excitement and gratification when he finally came, white spots dotting his vision as he felt himself completely spill inside you whilst your cunt clenched around him, as Max’s cock hit the perfect spot deep inside him with every thrust. He was so lost in his own orgasm, in his own moans and whines and noises to fully realise the domino effect he started.

To really appreciate the sight of you coming on his cock, bouncing up and down on his cock whilst your tits moved with each thrust. To really enjoy the sensation of Max coming deep inside him, squeezing him so hard that he was sure his skin would bruise the next day. To watch the way Charles stroked himself a few more times before spilling over his chest, just for you to lean down and lick up the mess until you leaned down to kiss him senseless.

To be completely honest, he was waiting to wake up and realise this whole day was a dream.

But he blinked. And blinked once more for good measure. And your smiling face was still there to reassure him this was real, that everything about today was real.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice a little rough and hoarse.

“Hey, baby,” you grinned back at him as you raised your hand to gently cup his face, your thumb wiping away a few stray tears that slipped out. “How are you feeling, Mr Race Winner?”

And despite the exhaustion settled deep in his bones, Lando beamed at you. “Feel like I’m the king of this fucking world.”

You giggled. “Then our job here is complete.”

Lando huffed out a laugh, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to fight the urge to curl up and sleep for the next week straight.

“Don’t tell me that’s you done for the night,” Max’s voice spoke from somewhere else in the room, somewhere away from the bed but Lando couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes just yet. “There’s a whole city wanting to celebrate with you tonight.”

“Ugh, being a race winner is so much work,” Lando whined playfully, reaching for you to pull you closer before you could pull away from him. “Let’s just stay here forever.”

“All a part of the title, mon amour,” Charles teased as he settled down beside the younger boy on the bed. He leaned in, placing a quick kiss to Lando’s forehead. “I heard the other drivers making bets on who could buy you the most shots.”

Lando let out a breath. “Fuck, they are gonna try to kill me.”

“We wouldn’t let that happen,” you assured him, but he could hear the smile in your voice. “I’m sure Max would join you.”

“Thanks, schat,” Max grumbled as he wandered back into the room, a wet washcloth in his hand. “We have a few hours before we are meant to meet everyone anyways. Have a nap, you can shower when you wake up.”

Lando blinked his eyes open, a cheeky smile on his face. “Alone?”

Max rolled his eyes. “It’s never enough for you.”

“I’m a high maintenance guy,” Lando replied.

“We know,” you murmured with a snort, only to gasp when he pinched your side. “Hey!”

“You can’t yell at me, I’m a race winner,” he shot back at you, grinning wider when you rolled your eyes.

“Yes, that is exactly how this works,” Charles snorted as he slumped down on the pillow beside Lando, reaching for the Brit to curl up beside him. “That and club blowjobs.”

“It was one time,” Max grumbled. “And it wasn’t even my idea!”

“I didn’t regret it for a second,” you smiled shamelessly at the Dutchman before raising your hand, trying to pull him down onto the bed with the three of you. “C’mon, we can clean up properly later. I wanna cuddle.”

“So needy.”

“In the wise words of race winner Lando Norris, I’m a high maintenance guy.”

“Hell yeah, baby,” Lando murmured, his cheek pressed into the pillow with a sleepy smile on his face. “Someone stitch that onto a pillow.”

“Please go to sleep before I gag you both.”

“They would probably like that, mon amour.”

“You too, Charles.”

“Always so bossy, Verstappen.”

1K notes · View notes

mononijikayu · 1 month

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ikaw lang— fushiguro megumi.

"Thanks. he muttered, his voice softer this time, almost shy. He still wasn’t used to letting people in, but for some reason, with you, it didn’t feel so bad. You smiled again, that same warm smile that made something inside him flutter. "Anytime." you replied, and Megumi knew you meant it. “Let me take care of you again, okay? When this happens.” “......You didn’t need to—” You shake your head, smile even wider. “But I want to, okay?”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Romance, First Love, First Meeting, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Friendship, Confessions, Humor, Mutual Affection, Love, Pining, Hugging, Mention of Injury, Mention of Fighting, Mention of Blood, Depiction of Medical Aid, Fushiguro Megumi is In Love, Sorcerer! Megumi, Non-Sorcerer!Reader, Megumi and Reader Are A Bit Older;

WORDS: 6.5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this song is really cute. i should rest after this because ive been writing all the other poll related works and my eyes hurts. i might open commissions some time so i can get new glasses 🤔 but anyway, i hope you like this as much as i do. i love you so much 🫶

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HE WONDERS WHAT HE DID TO BE THIS HAPPY. Fushiguro Megumi often finds himself lost in thought, trying to piece together how he ended up with someone like you as his lover. It’s a mystery to him, one that he turns over and over in his mind, especially in the quiet moments when he watches you from across the room.

The two of you couldn’t be more different. Megumi has always been reserved, the kind of person who prefers the solace of a quiet corner, away from the spotlight. He’s never been one to seek attention, content to blend into the background, observing rather than participating.

And then there’s you, today. The person he loves the most.

You, who are the complete opposite of everything he thought he needed. You walk into a room and light it up effortlessly, drawing people to you like a lighthouse in a rough storm. Your presence is magnetic, radiant—wherever you go, you leave a trail of warmth and joy, like the sun casting light on everything in its path. If the sun existed in Megumi’s universe, it would undoubtedly be you, the brightest star in his sky, illuminating even the darkest parts of his world.

Sometimes, Fushiguro Megumi wonders how someone like you could ever be drawn to someone like him. He’s not flashy, not outgoing or overly expressive. But then, you’ve never needed him to be. From the moment you met, you saw something in him that no one else did. You didn’t mind his quiet nature; in fact, you seemed to appreciate it, to cherish the way he found comfort in the shadows while you thrived in the light.

Every time Megumi sees you, his heart races uncontrollably. It’s a feeling he can’t quite describe, this mixture of awe and disbelief that he’s lucky enough to have you by his side. You have a way of making him feel things he never thought possible—emotions that run deep and wild, far beyond the calm exterior he usually shows the world.

And whenever you flash him that smile, the one he loves so much, he feels his composure slip. His face turns scarlet, his heart stumbles over itself, and he panics slightly, wondering how he’ll ever survive the intensity of his feelings for you.

But what truly leaves Megumi breathless are your eyes.

He’s always been captivated by them, even before he realized he loved you. There’s something in the way your eyes shine that draws him in, that makes him feel like he’s seeing something otherworldly. When you look at him, it’s like the rest of the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in a moment of pure, unfiltered connection.

Your eyes are windows to your soul, reflecting every emotion, every thought, every ounce of love you hold for him. And Megumi, who is often so unsure of himself, finds a sense of peace and belonging in those eyes. They are his sanctuary, his guiding light, the proof that he’s not alone in this world.

Sometimes, when you catch him staring, you’ll tilt your head and ask him what he’s thinking. And every time, Megumi struggles to find the right words, because how can he possibly explain the way you make him feel? How can he put into words the overwhelming mixture of gratitude, love, and fear that courses through him whenever he’s with you? All he knows is that, in those moments, he’s reminded of just how extraordinary you are, and how incredibly lucky he is to have you.

You are the sun in his universe, the brightest star in his sky, and with every passing day, Megumi falls deeper in love with you. And even though he’s not always able to express it, he hopes that when you look into his eyes, you can see just how much you mean to him—how much he adores every part of you, and how grateful he is to share his life with someone as wonderful as you.

Each time you raise your head and let Megumi gaze into your eyes, he’s struck by how they seem to shimmer with an otherworldly light. It’s not just the way they sparkle, but the depth and complexity they hold within them, as if your eyes contain entire galaxies, full of stars, planets, and endless mysteries.

To Megumi, your eyes are like a universe unto themselves—vast, beautiful, and impossible to fully comprehend. He can never quite find the words to describe the wonder they bring him, because, in truth, they’re unlike anything he’s ever known. They’re out of this world, something magical and extraordinary that he’s lucky enough to witness every day.

And every day, Megumi is reminded of just how fortunate he is to have you by his side. There are moments when he’s caught off guard by the simple yet profound realization that someone as remarkable as you chose him.

He’ll be lost in thought, or caught up in the routine of daily life, and then you’ll look at him, your eyes meeting his, and all those thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. In those moments, nothing else matters—just the connection between you, the unspoken bond that ties your hearts together.

Megumi finds that the most beautiful part of his day is when you look back at him. Your eyes, shining with a brilliance that words can’t quite capture, speak volumes in a language only the two of you understand. They tell him of the abundant love you hold for him, a love that fills his heart with warmth and light.

He’s always been shy, a little reserved, and sometimes he struggles to put his feelings into words. But when you look at him with those sparkling eyes, he wishes he could find the courage to tell you just how much it feels like heaven on Earth when you let him see the hearts hidden behind the bright beam of your gaze.

Megumi knows that you’re patient with him, that you understand his quiet nature, but sometimes he worries that he doesn’t show you enough how deeply he loves you. He wishes he could be more expressive, that he could find the words to tell you everything he feels.

But when words fail him, he hopes that you can see it in the way he looks at you—in the way his breath catches, in the way his heart races, in the way he’s completely and utterly captivated by you.

To Megumi, your eyes are not just beautiful—they are a reflection of the love you have for him, a love that he treasures more than anything in the world. Every glance you share, every moment your eyes meet his, is a reminder of how lucky he is to have found someone like you. And even though he may never fully grasp the magic you bring into his life, he knows that he will spend every day trying to show you just how much you mean to him.

To Megumi, it feels like stars might actually be falling from the sky, captured in the light of your gaze. Every moment he gets to see those eyes, he feels like he's witnessing something otherworldly, something that makes all the differences between you melt away, leaving only the overwhelming love he has for you.

Even though Megumi isn’t always good with words, he sometimes wishes that you could simply look into his eyes and just know that he loves you more than anything in the world. He hopes that you no longer feel the need to ask over and over, like you used to, because the truth is, you’re the only one he has ever truly loved—and the only one he ever will.

But sometimes, a nagging doubt creeps into his mind. He worries that his quietness might not be enough to convince you of how much you mean to him. He fears that he’s not doing enough to show you just how deeply he cares, because he struggles to express his feelings out loud. Yet, despite those fears, Megumi is determined to try harder, to find ways to show you his love so that you never have to doubt it.

If there were a way, Megumi wishes you could look into his heart and believe without a shadow of a doubt that you are the only one his heart has ever loved. And as he gazes at you now, he silently hopes that you can feel the depth of his affection in the way he looks at you, even if the words aren’t always there.

Fushiguro Megumi vividly remembers the first time he saw you for the first time. That was that day, during middle school. It was an ordinary day, and he wasn’t expecting anything to change. And for that change to be for the best.

He was known for being a bit of a loner, someone who kept to himself and occasionally got into trouble for his rebellious streak. He wasn’t exactly a model student, and most people gave him a wide berth, not wanting to get involved with someone who had a reputation for being a delinquent.

But then there was you, when you were younger.

He had just been reprimanded by one of the homeroom teachers for getting into another fight—something that had become more common as he struggled to navigate the challenges of his teenage years.

Or rather, just the annoyance he had for people he considered to be cruel, horrible people. But he supposed he was also angry, frustrated with the world, and on the verge of lashing out again when you approached him.

You were new, just transferred to the school, and Megumi was sure that you, like everyone else, would steer clear of him. But instead, you walked right up to him, your eyes full of concern rather than fear or judgment. You were like the sun blocking his eyes when he met you. You changed his whole world that day, he likes to think.

"Hey! Are you okay?" you had said softly, your voice calm and soothing. "Oh no, you got some dirt on your shirt—is that a cut on your side?"

Fushiguro Megumi had been taken aback for a long time. The last time must have been when Gojo said he’s taking him and Megumi in. There were very few things that had Megumi fazed, stuck in his tracks, and at a loss for words.

Perhaps the act of kindness being shown to him was one of those points. But he doesn’t think you’ve blamed him. He wasn’t used to anyone talking to him like that—without the underlying wariness or caution. He didn’t know how to respond, so he just shrugged, trying to brush you off.

“I’m fine.” he muttered, his tone gruff, hoping you would just drop it and leave him alone. "Don't worry about me. Move on."

But you didn’t leave. Instead, you stood your ground, your eyes filled with a concern that he hadn’t seen in a long time. It was as if you could see right through his tough exterior, straight to the part of him that was hurting, and you weren’t about to let it go unnoticed. You shook your head, your hands reaching out to gently tug at his sleeves, drawing his attention back to you.

When he finally looked at you, he was surprised to find that you seemed more distressed about his well-being than he was. There was a softness in your gaze, mixed with a quiet determination that caught him off guard.

"It doesn’t look like it! See? It hasn’t stopped bleeding. you replied gently, your voice free of any reproach, but filled with genuine worry.

Megumi followed your gaze to the cut on his arm, a wound he hadn’t given much thought to in the heat of the moment. But seeing the concern etched on your face made him pause.

You hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of how to proceed, before speaking again. "But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. I just… I just wanted to make sure you’re alright."

“Don’t worry about me—”

Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the depth of your concern, and it made something inside Megumi’s chest tighten. "At least maybe let me help you clean that nasty cut."

Megumi blinked, taken aback by your persistence. He was used to people either ignoring him or chastising him for getting into trouble, but you were different. You weren’t trying to fix him or tell him what to do—you were simply offering to help, to be there for him in a way that no one else had been. It was a kindness he wasn’t used to, and he didn’t quite know how to respond.

For a moment, he considered brushing you off, telling you he didn’t need any help, that he could handle it on his own. But something in your eyes stopped him. There was a sincerity there, a genuine desire to take care of him, and it made him realize how rare it was for someone to care like that.

"Fine." he finally grumbled, though his voice had lost its earlier edge. He couldn’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze, instead focusing on the ground as he added, "But it’s really not that bad."

You didn’t seem convinced, but you didn’t push him further. Instead, you smiled—a small, relieved smile that made his chest feel warm in a way he wasn’t used to. "Let’s just get it cleaned up, okay?" you said softly, leading him to a nearby bench.

As you carefully tended to his wound, Megumi found himself stealing glances at you, wondering why you cared so much. You were new to the school, new to his world, and yet here you were, going out of your way to make sure he was alright. It was strange, but also… comforting.

"Why do you care?" he asked quietly, surprising even himself with the question. It wasn’t something he’d meant to say out loud, but now that the words were out there, he couldn’t take them back.

You paused, looking up at him with those kind, worried eyes. "Because you deserve it." you replied simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Everyone deserves to be cared for, you know?"

Your words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, Megumi didn’t know what to say. He’d never thought of himself as someone who deserved kindness, especially not from someone like you. But hearing you say it so matter-of-factly made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, you were right.

You took Megumi to the nurse’s office, your concern evident in every step you took. He had tried to brush off the cut on his arm as no big deal, but you weren’t having any of it. As you entered the office, you headed straight for the supply cabinet, rummaging through it to find the emergency kit.

Megumi watched you with a mixture of apprehension and admiration. His face was tense, a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment clearly visible. He had never been one to draw attention to himself, especially not for something he considered minor. Yet here you were, focused and determined to make sure he was taken care of.

You pulled out the first aid kit and set it on the counter, your hands moving quickly and efficiently. “Alright, let’s get this cleaned up,” you said, your voice steady and reassuring.

Megumi shifted uncomfortably, clearly aware of the fuss you were making. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble. It’s just a scratch,” he muttered, trying to downplay the situation.

You gave him a stern look as you began to clean the cut. “It’s not just a scratch if it’s bleeding. Besides, it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been taking care of everyone else, so let me take care of you for once.”

He sighed, though he couldn’t help but feel a little comforted by your persistence. As you carefully applied the antiseptic and bandaged his arm, Megumi stole glances at you, noticing the focused expression on your face. Despite his initial resistance, he was grateful for your concern.

“You really don’t have to do this,” he said again, though his voice lacked conviction this time.

You glanced up at him with a small, reassuring smile. “I know, but I want to. You’ve always been there for me, and it’s only fair that I return the favor. Besides, you look like you’re in no condition to argue right now.”

Megumi managed a small, appreciative smile despite his discomfort. “Thanks. I guess I’m just not used to this… kind of attention.”

You finished wrapping the bandage and patted his shoulder gently. “Well, get used to it. Because I’m not going to let you get away with not taking care of yourself. And don’t think I won’t be checking on you if you ever get hurt again.”

He looked at you, the tension in his face easing as he met your gaze. “I’ll try not to get hurt then. Or at least try to let you know before it gets this bad.”

You laughed softly, your eyes crinkling with warmth. “Good. And remember, if you ever need anything—whether it’s help with a cut or just someone to talk to—I’m always here for you.”

Megumi’s heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and affection. Even though he had tried to downplay the situation, your unwavering concern made him feel valued in a way he hadn’t felt before. He knew that no matter what happened, he could always count on you to be by his side.

As you finished bandaging his cut, Megumi felt a strange sense of calm settle over him. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel so alone. Maybe it was because of the way you looked at him, or the way you didn’t push him to talk about things he wasn’t ready to share. Or maybe it was just because you were there, offering your help without expecting anything in return.

"Thanks....I guess." he muttered, his voice softer this time, almost shy. He still wasn’t used to letting people in, but for some reason, with you, it didn’t feel so bad.

You smiled again, that same warm smile that made something inside him flutter. "Anytime." you replied, and Megumi knew you meant it. “Let me take care of you again, okay? When this happens.”

“......You didn’t need to—”

You shake your head, smile even wider. “But I want to, okay?”

He didn’t know how to reply. He rubs the back of his neck. “You’re a weird one.”

“EH!? But I’m not!”

As the two of you sat there, the world seemed to quiet down around him, leaving only the gentle presence of the person who had somehow managed to slip past his defenses and show him a kindness he hadn’t realized he was missing.

Megumi didn’t know what to say. He was used to people either avoiding him or giving him grief for his behavior, but you were different. You weren’t trying to lecture him or push him away. You were just… there, offering your kindness without expecting anything in return.

From that day on, you always treated him with the same patience and understanding, even when he continued to get into trouble. You never judged him, never scolded him. Instead, you listened, offering support when he needed it and giving him space when he didn’t. You seemed to see past the rough exterior, recognizing that there was more to him than just the delinquent reputation he had built.

At first, Megumi didn’t understand why you were so kind to him. He didn’t think he deserved it, and part of him expected you to give up on him eventually. But you never did. No matter how many times he got into trouble, you were always there, offering him a smile or a word of encouragement.

Slowly, he began to soften around you. He started to look forward to the moments when you would seek him out, your presence becoming a source of comfort in his otherwise turbulent life. You became his anchor, the person who made him believe that maybe he wasn’t as bad as he thought.

It wasn’t long before Megumi realized that his feelings for you had grown into something deeper. At first, he had tried to convince himself that what he felt was simply gratitude, an appreciation for the way you treated him with such genuine care and respect. But as time passed, he found himself thinking about you more and more, his thoughts lingering on the little moments you shared.

Like that time in the library, when you had insisted on helping him with his homework. Megumi had been struggling with a particularly difficult problem, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to solve it. You had noticed his struggle and quietly slid your chair closer to his, gently guiding him through the problem with a patience that both surprised and comforted him.

“There, see? You’re getting it!” you had said, a bright smile lighting up your face as you watched him work through the problem.

Megumi had looked at you then, really looked at you, and something inside him had shifted. It was the way you had been so kind, so encouraging, without a hint of judgment or condescension. The way you had treated him like he mattered, like you genuinely wanted to see him succeed. It was a feeling that was foreign to him, yet it warmed him from the inside out.

Another moment had come when the two of you were walking home from school. It had started to rain unexpectedly, and Megumi had cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella. But before he could worry too much, you had pulled out your own and held it over both of you, smiling up at him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Come on, let’s share. Can’t have you getting soaked.” you had said, your voice cheerful despite the downpour.

As the two of you walked side by side, your shoulders brushing occasionally, Megumi had felt his heart do a strange little flip. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, noticing the way the raindrops clung to your hair, how your smile remained unwavering despite the weather.

In that moment, something had clicked for him. It wasn’t just your kindness that drew him to you—it was the way you made him feel safe, understood, and… cared for.

The realization had hit him one afternoon when you both were at the park. You had been talking animatedly about something, your hands gesturing as you spoke, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Fushiguro Megumi had been content to just listen, watching the way your expressions changed with every word. And then, without warning, you had turned to him, catching him completely off guard with a look of such warmth and affection that it nearly knocked the breath out of him.

“What?” you had asked, laughing lightly when you noticed the way he was staring.

Megumi had opened his mouth to respond, but no words had come out. Instead, he had felt a strange mix of emotions bubbling up inside him—nervousness, excitement, something that felt suspiciously like hope. It was then that he realized: this wasn’t just friendship or simple admiration. It was something deeper, something more.

He liked you. A lot.

The thought had sent a rush of warmth through his chest, leaving him both exhilarated and terrified. Megumi wasn’t used to these kinds of feelings, and he wasn’t sure what to do with them. But as he looked at you, standing there with that bright smile on your face, he knew one thing for certain—he wanted to be around you, to make you smile like that as often as he could.

“Nothing.” he had finally managed to say, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” you had asked, tilting your head curiously.

Megumi had hesitated for a moment, but then he had decided to be honest, even if he couldn’t say everything that was on his mind. “About how… I like spending time with you.”

Your smile had grown even brighter at his words, and you had reached out to lightly punch his arm in that playful way you always did. “Well, I like spending time with you too, Megumi.”

And just like that, Megumi had known that he was done for. He liked you—really liked you. And even though the thought scared him, it also filled him with a strange sense of happiness, one that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. From that moment on, Megumi couldn’t deny it anymore. He liked you, and he wanted to see where these feelings would take him.

Looking back, Megumi often finds himself reflecting on how profoundly different his life might have been if you hadn’t approached him that day. It was a pivotal moment, one that he now sees as the turning point in his journey.

Before you, he had felt like a perpetual outsider—misunderstood, labeled as a troublemaker, and largely ignored by those around him. He had been resigned to his role, to the way people saw him, without much hope for change or growth.

But then you came into his life, a beacon of kindness and patience in a world that had been mostly indifferent. You saw something in him that no one else had—a potential for change, a person worth caring for. Your approach had been gentle but resolute, offering him a friendship and understanding that he hadn’t known he needed.

You didn’t judge him for his mistakes or his quiet demeanor; instead, you reached out to him with a genuine concern for his well-being. It was this unassuming kindness that started to crack open the hardened shell he had built around himself.

Now, years later, Megumi often wonders if he would have ever found the strength to change if it hadn’t been for you. He thinks about the way you had treated him back then, how your unwavering support had slowly begun to reshape his view of himself.

It was as if you had quietly whispered to him that he was worth something, that he had the potential to be better, and that there was more to him than just the surface-level troubles. And in doing so, you had planted a seed of hope and self-worth that gradually grew into something stronger and more resilient.

As the two of you sit together now, the evening sun casting a warm, golden glow through the window, Megumi can’t help but be reminded of how far he’s come. The comfort and familiarity of your presence have become a cherished part of his life.

He often steals glances at you, unable to fully comprehend just how lucky he is to have someone like you by his side. The way you’re sitting there, so effortlessly at ease, makes his heart swell with a deep affection that words can hardly capture.

You’ve caught him staring more than once, and each time, you respond with that soft, knowing smile that makes his heart skip a beat. It’s a smile that reassures him, that reminds him of the love that started on that day in junior high, when you saw him not as a problem or a troublemaker, but as someone worthy of care and respect. That smile, simple yet profound, continues to be a source of comfort and joy for him, a daily reminder of how much you mean to him.

In those moments, as he looks at you and sees the warmth in your eyes and the gentle curve of your lips, Megumi is filled with a deep sense of gratitude. He thinks about how his life might have been different without your influence, and he realizes just how much you’ve changed him. The love he feels for you is rooted in that initial connection, and it has only grown deeper and stronger with time.

Megumi knows now that the love he has for you began with that first act of kindness you showed him, and it has only been enriched by the years you’ve spent together. As he sits there beside you, basking in the glow of the setting sun and the warmth of your presence, he can’t help but feel that he has found something truly extraordinary—something that started with a simple gesture of care and has blossomed into a love that he never thought possible.

You lean in slightly, noticing how quiet he’s been. "Megumi. Oiiiiiii, Megu–Megu~ Gumiiiiii!”

He sighed, looking at you. You have energy again, after resting. “What is it?”

“You truly okay?" you ask, your voice gentle and inviting.

He hesitates, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me.” he mumbles, looking down at his hands, fidgeting slightly. "Just thinking about the past. Nostalgia."

You tilt your head, your eyes sparkling with curiosity and affection. You smiled. "You’re always so cute, Megumi.” You sighed, as you reached out gently to touch his hand. ”You’ve been staring at me all evening. If you have something to say, you can tell me, okay?”

Megumi swallows, gathering his courage. "It’s just… your eyes…" he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. "They’re… really beautiful. And just…..you. I think how lucky I am to be with you.”

You blink in surprise, not expecting such a heartfelt compliment from him. "Oh, my beloved Megumi." you murmur, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you."

Megumi slowly looks up at you then, his own eyes filled with a tender sincerity that makes your heart flutter. He took a breath before letting his eyes wander at the sight of you, his beloved marvel. His wonder in life. He gives you a faint smile.

"When you look at me like that… it feels like I’m seeing stars." he continues, his voice growing softer, more vulnerable. "Like… every time I see your eyes, it’s the most beautiful part of my day. And… I don’t know how to say this right, but… it’s like there’s love shining behind them, so much that it feels like heaven."

Your heart swells with emotion, and you squeeze his hand gently. You lifted his hand to your lips and looked at him tenderly as you pressed your lips against the top of his hand. He doesn’t know when his heart will calm down. But when it’s you, he doubts if it will ever happen.

"Megumi, that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me." you reply, your voice filled with warmth. "And just so you know, when I look at you, I feel the same way. You make every day feel like the brightest one I’ve ever had. Because when I look at you, I ask, ‘how did I deserve this boy?’ Because, you’re too good to me.”

He smiles shyly, his blush deepening as he takes in your words. "I’m glad….that you feel like I do too." he murmurs, his fingers intertwined with yours.

"I always will." You reassured him, grinning at him lovingly.

"I… I’m not good with words, but I want you to know how much you mean to me. Every time you look at me, it’s like… it’s like I’m the luckiest person in the world."

You lean in closer, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "You don’t have to say much, Megumi. I can see it in your eyes too." you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. “That’s more than enough for me, know that. Okay?”

Megumi’s heart swells, and for a moment, he forgets about his usual shyness. "I love you." he says softly, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Your smile widens, your eyes shining even brighter. "I love you too, Megumi." you reply, your voice filled with the same sincerity and warmth that he sees in your gaze every day.

And in that moment, with your hands intertwined and your eyes locked, Fushiguro Megumi knows that there’s nothing more beautiful than the love you both share. And he truly believes that. He thinks that you’re the love of his life. And he has no intention of letting you go.

Megumi's heart races as the words hang in the air between you. He's never been the best at expressing his feelings, but something about being with you makes it easier—like the words come naturally when you're around. You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes again, your own filled with the same warmth and love that makes his heart flutter.

"You know, Megumi." you start, your voice soft and affectionate, "I always feel like I’m the luckiest person too. Because even when you're quiet or shy, I can feel everything you don’t say in the way you look at me. It’s like you’re telling me a million things with just a glance."

He bites his lip, trying to find the right words to respond. "It’s hard for me to… say things out loud sometimes. And it’s hard to be honest at times." he admits, his gaze lowering for a moment before meeting yours again. "But when I’m with you, it feels different. Because when I’m with you, I’m just….me.”

You smile at him, a soft, understanding smile that makes him feel even more at ease. "You don’t have to say everything, Megumi." you reassure him. "I can see it in your actions, in the way you care for me, and in those beautiful eyes of yours. You’re always telling me how you feel, even when you think you’re not. I love that about you, don’t worry.”

Megumi blushes, the compliment making him feel a mix of embarrassment and joy. "You… you think my eyes are beautiful?" he asks, his voice small, almost disbelieving.

"Of course I do." you reply, leaning in to rest your forehead against his. "They’re one of my favorite things about you. They’re so expressive, even when you’re being quiet. I can always tell what you’re feeling just by looking into them. Your eyelashes too. They’re always pretty!”

His breath hitches at the closeness, your words making his heart swell with emotion. "I… I’m glad you think that." he murmurs, his eyes locked onto yours. "Because… When I look at you, I see everything I could ever want.”

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, and you close the small distance between you, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. It’s soft, sweet, and full of the love that you both share, a love that needs no words to be understood.

When you pull back, you see that Megumi’s face is a deep shade of red, but there’s a small, content smile on his lips that makes your heart soar. "You really know how to say the perfect thing, don’t you?" you tease lightly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face.

He chuckles softly, his shyness momentarily forgotten as he looks at you with nothing but affection. "Only because it’s you." he replies, his voice steady and full of sincerity. "You make it easy."

You both sit there for a moment, just enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence. Megumi’s hand is still entwined with yours, and he gives it a gentle squeeze, as if to remind himself that this is real—that you’re real, and that you’re his.

"I never thought I’d be this happy, you know?" he admits quietly, almost as if he’s afraid that saying it out loud might break the spell. "But with you… it’s like every day is a dream."

You smile, your heart swelling with love for the boy who, despite his quiet demeanor, has given you more happiness than you ever imagined. "Then let’s keep dreaming together, Megumi." you whisper, leaning in for another kiss. "Because I never want this to end."

The warmth of the setting sun bathed the room in a golden hue, casting a gentle glow that seemed to amplify the intimacy of the moment. Megumi and you were nestled comfortably together, sharing a quiet sense of peace that had settled between you. This was paradise, Megumi thinks. This was heaven on earth. You and you alone, in his arms — he could not ask for anything more.

Megumi glanced at you again, his eyes reflecting the soft light. “What good did I do to be with you?”

You tilted your head, smiling at him with a mixture of curiosity and affection. “Why do you say that? What makes you feel that way? You did everything good. You do deserve me."

He hesitated, his gaze falling to the floor as he tried to find the right words. “It’s just… you’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t really know what I needed. I was so closed off and messed up back then. But you saw something in me, something I didn’t even see in myself.”

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his cheek to lift his gaze to meet yours. “I saw a person who needed kindness and understanding, and I’m really glad I could be there for you. But you did the hard part, Megumi. You changed and grew, and that’s all you.”

He shook his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I couldn’t have done it without you. And now, every day with you feels like a gift. I keep thinking about how different things could have been if you hadn’t come into my life. It’s overwhelming sometimes.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Well, I’m glad I did. And I’m glad you’re here with me now. It’s like we were meant to find each other, don’t you think?”

Megumi nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it does feel like that. I keep thinking about how we met and how everything just seemed to fall into place after that. It’s like you were the missing piece I didn’t know I needed.”

Your eyes sparkled with affection as you leaned closer. “And you were the person who showed me what it means to be patient and understanding. We’ve both learned so much from each other.”

He smiled, a rare, genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “You’ve made me a better person. I feel like I’ve become more open, more willing to trust and care. It’s all because of you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you wrapped your arms around him in a gentle hug. “I’m just glad I could be a part of your journey. And I’m excited for everything that’s still to come for us.”

Megumi returned the hug, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. “Me too. I want to make sure I’m always there for you, supporting you just like you’ve supported me. I don’t want you to ever doubt how much you mean to me.”

You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, a soft smile playing on your lips. “You don’t have to worry about that. I know exactly how much I mean to you. And I’ll always be here for you, just like you’ve always been there for me.”

As the two of you sat together, the warmth of the setting sun casting a gentle glow over the room, Megumi felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. He knew that with you by his side, every day would be brighter, every challenge more bearable.

And as he looked into your eyes, he realized that the love he felt was a constant, reassuring presence—one that made everything feel right in the world.

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eveningepiphany · 1 year

Text

welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.

warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!

a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.

also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig

———

There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.

That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.

You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.

You’d waited years just to get here in general.

When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.

But you’re here. At the front.

You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.

A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.

Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.

But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.

Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.

You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.

Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.

“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.

You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.

“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.

Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”

Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.

“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.

“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.

You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”

You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.

“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.

“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.

You could stay in this moment forever.

As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.

You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.

Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.

Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.

Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.

And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”

“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.

Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.

The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.

You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.

You were enamoured by him.

Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.

His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.

“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.

“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.

He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”

You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.

But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.

From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.

But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.

This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.

And then he reads the sign.

‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’

His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.

You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.

“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.

As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.

However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.

He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.

“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”

“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.

You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.

Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.

‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.

A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.

“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.

He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.

“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.

“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”

A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”

Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.

You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.

“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.

He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”

You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.

The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.

Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.

“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.

“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.

“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”

And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.

You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.

And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.

But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.

You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.

It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.

To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.

Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”

You blow a kiss back.

And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.

Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.

You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.

Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.

———

Post love on tour depression is a real thing.

There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.

But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.

The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.

And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.

The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.

You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.

You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.

It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”

It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.

That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.

Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.

“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.

He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.

He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.

“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.

You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.

But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.

You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.

“Hi…” You flush profusely.

“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.

Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.

The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.

That are very intensely locked onto yours…

“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”

He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.

“Y/N.” He tuts gently.

“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.

“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.

“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.

Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?

You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.

“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”

“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.

“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.

You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.

He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.

Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.

You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.

Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.

Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.

You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.

You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.

You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”

He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.

“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.

“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.

“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,

“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”

Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”

He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.

In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.

“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.

The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.

“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?�� He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.

“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.

“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”

He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”

“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.

“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.

“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.

“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”

“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.

“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.

“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”

He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.

You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.

Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.

The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.

He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.

Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.

You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.

But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.

You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”

He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”

A friend of his?

“Alright, bye, I love you.”

And just like that the phone hung up.

“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.

“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.

You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.

“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.

It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.

“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”

“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”

As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.

Your brain stalls at his comment.

“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.

“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”

“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.

“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.

You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”

He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”

“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”

You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”

He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.

You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.

“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”

He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.

You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.

“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.

“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.

He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.

Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.

You check your phone to see the time.

1:53pm

1 new notification

Unknown Number | :)

So that actually did just happen.

———

To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,

so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?

And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.

———

part two!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #fanfic #harry styles smut #famous harry #fan! y/n #fangirl! y/n #italyrry #he’s so cute

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pholla-jm · 9 months

Text

So Close, Yet So Far

IMAGINE: SO CLOSE, YET SO FAR ~ LUFFY X READER GENRE: FLUFF Mizpah- the deep emotional bond between people, especially those separated by distance. ********************

Luffy could have swore he saw something familiar.

Something so familiar that it made his heartbeat increase and excitement fill his body. He would recognize that form anywhere.

That’s why he didn’t hesitate to run after the familiar figure. Ignoring the calls from his nakama. Their shouts for him fell on deaf ears.

“Ugh,” Nami groans while pinching the bridge of her nose, “I swear, those ears are just for decoration.”

Luffy ran all around town, asking if they had seen this figure he saw earlier. He described this person with perfect precision, yet no one had seen them. It confused him, frustrated him even more.

He could have sworn he saw you. The hope that filled him, just from the thought of seeing you, was too great. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around you multiple times and take in your familiar scent that he grew to love. But you were too far away from him.

Now that the feeling of hope was starting to fade away, another feeling replaced it. Longing filled his heart. It felt like you were just arms reach from him, but you weren’t. You were miles away, seas away even.

Luffy laughs to himself. It’s not possible that you were here. You were home, at Dawn island.

“Luffy! What are you doing?” The ship’s cook shouts at him. Luffy was silent, not really hearing his question. Sanji was quick to notice this. “Luffy, is everything alright?”

Luffy blinks a couple times, finally hearing Sanji’s voice.

“Yeah. Just thought I saw someone.” “Oh, who?”

Luffy grins widely, “don’t worry about it.”

Luffy turns around and walks the other direction.

Sanji doesn’t push it, but he thought it to be very for him to be acting this way. Maybe he was hungry? Yeah, that has to be it.

Many, many hours later, the crew was heading back to the ship. Some were drunk and half awake. Some, taking care of each other. Luffy stayed silent the whole time. Something that the whole crew found weird, but decided not to bring it up. They didn’t want to jinx their luck.

All Luffy wanted to do was head to his quarters and look at some of the things you gave him before leaving.

“I was beginning to think that no one was going to return to the ship.” An unknown voice calls out once the crew is back on the ship- well mostly unknown.

An unknown person leaned against the railing of the ship, flipping through pages of one of Robin’s books.

While everyone either drew out a weapon, ready to fight if needed. However, Luffy’s reaction was opposite. His eyes widened, mouth forming into a huge smile. He could feel his heart start to beat faster like it used to.

It was you.

The same you he was looking for just hours ago.

You looked different though. You hair styled differently, and you had a bit more muscle on you. But your voice sounded exactly the same.

A deep inhale entered Luffy’s lungs as he couldn’t contain his excitement anymore. “(Y/N)!” He shouts happily and throws himself at you.

“(y/n)?” The crew questions. Why would Luffy know this person?

Laughter fell from your lips as you wrapped your arms around Luffy’s body. His arms wrapping around you multiple times. As much as he could, just enough to let you breathe, but enough to feel you as close as possible.

“Luffy.” You breathe out with a happy smile on your face. It was surreal seeing him again. “I’m so happy that you’re here!” Luffy voices your thoughts as well. “Me too.”

“OH!” Luffy says pulling away from you, “I want you to meet my crew!” He says, pulling you towards the confused crew members.

“Who are you?” Nami questions. “This is (y/n), they’re from Dawn Island.”

“Ooh, so is this another one of your siblings?” The blonde asks.

Your face scrunches up at his words and Luffy laughs, “nah. They’re more special than that.”

“Eh??!” The crew shouts at this revolution.

“So wait… wait. What are you doing here then?” One of them asks. “Well, I got bored of waiting on the island so I went on an adventure of my own.”

You turn to Luffy with a small pout on your face. You had told Luffy that you would wait for him when he first left the island. But you couldn’t wait any longer. You were itching to leave the island, have an adventure of your own. And then find Luffy on your own.

“I hope you don’t mind, Luffy. I know I said I would wait.”

Luffy’s grin doesn’t falter, “I don’t mind! You found your way back to me!” You laugh, “of course. I’ll always find you.”

“Are you going to stay?” Nami asks. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course you’re staying!” Luffy says and relief floods you. You really didn’t want to leave Luffy again. And Luffy really didn’t want to leave you again.

You were finally here, with him. Within arms length.

#oneshot #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #op x reader

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goldfades · 7 months

Note

38. "stay with me, please? i need you tonight. maybe for the rest of my life, if you're generous."

with jamie!

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 | jd⁹

♡ ─ word count | 1.6k

♡ ─ warnings | hurt/comfort, ANGST!! jamie being an asshole (but it was lowkey justified), mention of his injury/trade :((, thats all!

♡ ─ ev's notes | okay listen i forgot the prompt but the last few paragraphs basically describe what the prompt conveys if that makes sense, i still hope u enjoy it nonnie 😭🩷

Jamie had a pretty hard season, with him moving to Philadelphia unexpectedly and him being injured had really gotten to him. He's spent the last two weeks at home recovering and trying to get better as soon as he could, he wanted to be back on the ice as soon as possible. His injury added another layer of frustration. The pain, both physical and emotional, weighed heavily on him. Hockey had always been his sanctuary, and the forced break on top of the trade felt like the whole universe was against him.

You entered the condo, sighing with exhaustion. The last couple months had been frustrating for you as well, but it didn't even come close to how Jamie was feeling. As you entered the small condo, you heard the shower running and assumed it was Jamie.

You put down everything and began starting on dinner, Jamie probably hadn't eaten anything except breakfast. You were worried for him, more than you could ever express. You'd always had faith in him even in the lowest of the lows but he had never been this low in his entire career. He'd always been a determined person but right now, it really did feel like the odds were stacked up against him.

You wanted to do everything in your power to make him happy again, even if it was for a fleeting moment before the world closing on him again. The smell of a home-cooked meal began to fill the air as you moved around the kitchen, chopping vegetables and preparing a comforting dish.

As you worked, your thoughts lingered on Jamie's struggles - the trade, the injury, and the emotional toll it all took on him. You understood the importance of hockey in his life, how it served as a source of purpose. Tonight, you wanted to provide not just a meal but a reminder that he wasn't alone in this struggle, no matter what happens.

As your timer beeped, indicating that dinner was ready, you set the table, adorned with comforting dishes. The shower turned off, and soon Jamie emerged, his weariness evident in his movements. You gave him a warm smile, opening up your arms for a hug.

"I made your favorite,"

He slumped down to your height and embraced you tightly, sighing. You let him hug you before he slipped away from the embrace, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders as he did. The weariness in his pretty eyes spoke volumes, but so did the gratitude for the effort you put into making the evening a little brighter.

"Thank you," Jamie murmured, his voice a mixture of fatigue and appreciation. He walked over to the table and sat down as you brought waters from the fridge before sitting with him.

"How was your day?" You asked gently as you settled into the seat, glancing up to watch him.

"It was fine." He responded shortly as he began eating the food, avoiding your gaze. You knew he didn't want to come off bitter but it stung, you tried your best to not to take it personal. "You?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," you replied with a light chuckle, trying to maintain a casual tone. "Work had its moments, but nothing too exciting. I did manage to catch up with Maya over the phone today, she said she missed us back in California."

You knew you had messed up as you heard Jamie's fork hit the plate, the sound echoing throughout the apartment. Shit, I shouldn't have mentioned California. You looked up and caught his tired gaze as he sighed.

"I'm sorry," you offered softly, regret lacing your words. "I didn't mean to bring up anything that might upset you. It's just habit to share little updates about people we know, you know?"

Jamie took a deep breath, and you could see the effort it took for him to compose himself. "It's okay," he finally replied, though the strain in his voice betrayed the words. "I just... miss the way things used to be."

His vulnerability hung in the air, and you felt a pang of empathy. The unexpected move to Philadelphia had disrupted not only his career but also the familiar life you both had in California. You reached across the table, gently placing your hand over his. "I miss it too, Jamie. But we'll make new memories here. It just takes time."

He sighed and pulled his hand away from yours, your chest squeezing in hurt. He took the fork and continued to eat, choosing to stay silent. You didn't know why he was being so distant, so cold. You hated it but you couldn't resent him for it, you knew it wasn't his fault. That still didn't mean it didn't hurt, though.

The room seemed to shrink with the silence, the only sound was the clinking of cutlery against the plate. The unspoken tension between you and Jamie hung heavy in the air and despite your attempt to offer comfort, he withdrew further into his thoughts. As he continued to eat in silence, you couldn't shake the ache in your chest. The distance, both physical and emotional, left you feeling like a spectator in Jamie's struggle, unable to bridge the gap that seemed to widen with each passing moment.

You had never had this problem with Jamie before, he communicated everything he felt so that it was easier for the both of you so this was new territory. What had changed? Why was he retreating into this new, silent version of himself? The questions lingered, unanswered, amplifying the sense of helplessness.

With a heavy sigh, you set your fork down, the clatter against the plate echoing the unease in the room. "Jamie," you began tentatively, your voice soft but carrying the weight of your concern. "I hate seeing you like this, I just want to help."

Jamie had finally slammed the fork down, looking up at you with agitated playing on his face. "You can't fucking help me, Y/N. Do you get that, is that simple enough for you? I can't breathe around you without you looking at me and trying to analyze it and help me. You look at me like I'm some kind of burden you need to carry, and I'm sick of it."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the raw emotion behind them stinging more than any physical blow. It was a side of Jamie you hadn't encountered before, and the harshness in his tone took you aback. There was silence as you both stared at each other and you saw the regret slowly seep into Jamie's expression.

You took a moment to collect yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat before finally speaking. "I never meant to make you feel like a burden. I just care about you, and seeing you struggle hurts. I thought we could face it together, like we always have."

He lowered his gaze, a visible conflict playing out in his eyes. The regret painted across his face was palpable, and for a moment, it seemed like he was grappling with the weight of his words. "I know I messed up," Jamie finally admitted, his voice softer now, remorse evident. "It's just... everything feels like too much right now, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, baby."

The pet name rolled off his tongue like honey as he spoke and you could see the old Jamie come back slowly as you gazed at him. You nodded, acknowledging the complexity of the emotions that had fueled his outburst.

"Everything will be easier if you just talk to me, Jamie." You paused, choosing your words carefully. "I want to understand, Jamie. I want to be there for you," you continued, your voice gentle but firm. "We can face whatever it is together. Just talk to me. Please."

He sighed, the conflict in his eyes softening. "I know, Y/N. I just... I'm not used to all of this. The move, the injury, it's like my whole world got turned upside down, and I don't know how to understand it."

You reached across the table, your hand finding his. "We'll figure it out together. You don't have to carry it all on your own. I hate seeing you hurt like this, baby."

He squeezed your hand, the warmth of the gesture was filled with gratitude. "I don't want to push you away, Y/N. I just... I've always been the one who had it all figured out, you know? But this, it's different. It's overwhelming."

"You don't have to have it all figured out, Jamie. We'll navigate through this together. It's okay not to be okay, you don't have to play the part because at the end of the day, you're just human."

He nodded, a mixture of emotions flickering in his eyes. "I'm just scared of losing everything, of losing myself in all of this mess."

The weight of his fears hung in the air, and you leaned in, your thumb gently caressing his hand. "You won't lose yourself, Jamie. I'm here to help you find your way back. We'll take it one step at a time."

For a moment, he hesitated, the weight of vulnerability hanging in the air. Then, slowly, he began to open up. The words spilled out, frustration, fear, and the overwhelming pressure he felt. As he spoke, you listened, offering support.

After the conversation, you laid next to him in the bed, his head laying on your chest. The silence was comfortable as you both began to seep into sleep, enveloped in one another. Your fingers gently traced soothing patterns on his back as you held him close, your presence a reassurance that he wasn't alone ever.

The soft rhythm of his breathing matched the steady beat of your heart, as Jamie shifted slightly, his fingers finding yours in the darkness.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#❀ evangeline's 1k celly!!⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚#jamie drysdale fic #jamie drysdale blurb #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale x you #jamie drysdale smut #philadephia flyers #philidelphia flyers #jamie drysdale x y/n #nhl angst #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl players #hockey smut #hockey fic #hockey stuff

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catmiemy · 4 months

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Another Chance to Live Part 1 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Ana and you are both struggling with unwanted transfers, but maybe you can at least find happiness off the pitch.

A/N: This is the first part of a story I've been working on for a while. I guess my way of processing my emotions about Ana's transfer. I've been in the denial stage for a long time 😅

The next two chapters are already written (just need to edit them) and so far it's a total of about 13k words. I'm now at a crossroad which will decide how long the story becomes. So I thought I'd publish the first part and see how much interest there is in a story like this to help me decide.

It felt like a cruel joke of the universe that now, now when you had been forced to leave, the woman you’ve had a crush on for years, joined your team, or well your former team. Words that made your heart crack a little more every time you thought them. Never in a billion years had you expected your team to become your former team.

Ever since you had first laid eyes on Ana you had been dazzled by her, not necessarily only by her looks, although you definitely enjoyed them, but also by her personality and her aura. She always radiated so much kindness and positive energy. It was impossible not to be drawn to her.

Sadly your paths didn’t cross all too often and when they did, Ana was always somewhere in the heart of whatever group you were part of, while you were lingering on the edges, looking in. So the Swiss woman was probably only vaguely aware of your existence, while you soaked up every detail you could find about Ana. The more you learnt, the more you liked her.

And yes, sometimes when you lay in bed at night you made up little scenarios how the two of you would meet. One of your favorite ones was Ana coming to Atleti, not really knowing her way around Madrid yet, so you take her under your wing and show her everything. And of course she starts falling for you as you spend so much time together. It was your imagination after all, so you could day dream all you wanted.

Now part of this little fantasy was actually coming true, Ana really was joining Atlético, and it frustrated you to no end that now that she came, you were gone. Although perhaps it wasn’t the universe being cruel towards you, maybe it was protecting you because even if you played for the same team there was no way the Swiss woman would ever go for someone like you.

Still, you spent a good amount of time fuming about it in your apartment. Possibly also because it was easier to focus on that rather than on the fact that your childhood club had just dropped you like you meant nothing. Every time you remembered the conversation with the club’s managers you felt like throwing up, hiding under the covers for the rest of your life, and ripping off your ears so you didn’t have to listen to one more word from them. So yeah, it was comforting in a weird way to think about your missed chance with Ana, especially since it never had been much of a chance anyway.

It was harder to hold on to that strange comfort when training actually started and you had to go to Real Madrid’s training center every day. Most days were spent attempting to do your best and keep your negative emotions in check, while thinking nonstop about how much you hated this, how much you wanted to return to Atelti, how much you wanted to leave Madrid altogether.

So all in all you weren’t having the best time, barely getting by was actually a more accurate way to describe it. Then a few weeks after the season started you got a call from Lola.

“Sooo I heard you’re doing a lot of moping these days,” she teased you.

However there was an underlying note of worry in her voice. You had done your best to pretend as if Atleti’s decision hadn’t hurt you, that these things happen in football, and you were completely fine with it, but Lola had seen right through it.

“I’m not moping, I’m just quiet and focused like usual,” you quickly defended yourself. It was only partially true, you hated every single second you spent at the training center of Real Madrid.

“That’s not what I’ve heard, but how about you convince me over a cup of coffee. Maybe tomorrow afternoon?”

You didn’t even question how Lola knew that you had the day off tomorrow, apparently she had some spies at Real. As much as you didn’t want to continue talking about the misery that was your new club, you did want to see your friend, so you agreed.

“I might ask some other people if they want to tag along. Everyone misses you,” Lola continued, making you happy and sad at the same time. It was nice to be missed, but you wished you weren’t in a position where you could be missed.

Before you could hang up, Lola told you to bring “your moping buddy Misa”, then she ended the call with a cackle, not giving you any chance to retaliate. In all honesty there was some truth to it, both you and Misa were unhappy at Real, so it wasn’t surprising that she was the only person you had really bonded with so far.

Going by Lola’s words you expected a big group the next day when you entered the café you had agreed upon. What you found however were merely three people, Lola, Misa and no one other than Ana.

Suddenly your stomach was filled with butterflies flapping their wings wildly, making you somewhat nauseous as a result. You hadn’t expected this and you weren’t prepared for it at all. If it wouldn’t have been incredibly rude you would have walked right back out of the café.

Instead you walked over to the small group, doing your best impression of a friendly smile. You could have sworn you saw a knowing glint in both Misa’s and Lola’s eyes. There was no way they knew about your crush though, right?

Lola jumped up when she saw you, hugging you tightly. “It’s good to see you, chica, I’ve missed you,” she told you.

You had to blink a couple of times to chase away the tears burning in your eyes. There was no denying that you had missed her too, all of your former teammates really. You longed to be back at Atlético, and not only because Ana was there.

Right, Ana.

You extracted yourself from your friend and smiled at the blonde. Should you hug her as well? Or greet her with kisses on the cheeks? That’s exactly why you should have been informed that Ana would be there, so that you could think this over beforehand. Or, well, over think it.

Unlike you Ana knew exactly what to do; she got up, greeted you kindly and gave you a quick hug. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N. We’ve never had much of a chance to talk, so I’m glad we get one now.”

For a few seconds too long you started at her. You were torn between awe, and a little bit of envy, at how easily the Swiss woman had navigated this greeting, and shock. She remembered you? She was happy to see you? Once your heart slowed down from a wild canter to a moderate gallop and your brain was working more clearly again, you realized that this was probably just something Ana had said to make the situation less awkward, not something she truly meant.

“So, do you want to sit down?” Lola suggested with a smirk on her face. Thankfully she left it at that though and you quickly sank down into a chair. You felt too embarrassed to look at Ana, so you completely missed the reassuring smile she sent your way.

After that things went much more smoothly, mostly because Lola and Ana carried the conversation, allowing you and Misa to remain in your preferred role, attentive listener. Your former teammate as well as your crush tried valiantly to draw you out of your shell, but out of fear of saying something stupid, you kept your answers as short as possible without being weird or unfriendly. If only you could think of something witty to say!

On the bright side your relative quietness gave you a good opportunity to study Ana. She was stunning as always, but you could easily spot the signs of the toll this move to the Atlético had taken on her; her smile wasn’t quite as wide as usual and didn’t reach her eyes, her voice was a little duller, there were badly covered up dark bags underneath her eyes and she was a bit more subdued than normal in general. Man, you really had spent way too long looking at any video of her you could find to notice things like that!

Then all of the sudden Misa let out a gasp. “I completely forgot I promised my neighbor I’d let in her daughter today. I need to leave right now to make it.”

You frowned at your teammate; it wasn’t like her to forget something as important as that. Was something more than her unhappiness with being stuck at Real bothering her? You made a mental note to ask Misa about it the next day, remind her that you were always there if she needed someone.

Misa’s departure didn’t really change anything in the dynamic, she hadn’t contributed much just like you. But then Lola got a phone call from her girlfriend who apparently needed your former teammate urgently. She looked at the two of you apologetically, however you could swear that there was some glee shimmering behind her regretful front.

“You girls should stay here and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Really I’m so sorry about this, don’t let it ruin your day,” Lola babbled, pressing a kiss to both your and Ana’s cheek before dashing out of the café.

You looked after her with confusion. The confusion however was short-lived, quickly drowned out by panic once you realized that you were now left alone with Ana. No more hiding behind other people, no more safety net. You weren’t ready. However leaving also wasn’t an option, there was no way you could do so without offending Ana, so you had to pull yourself together.

“I’m sorry about that,” Ana apologized, bringing your confusion back. As far as you were aware the Swiss woman had absolutely nothing to apologize for.

“They probably planned this because they think I need to be more social again. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jenni put them up to it, she’s been pretty worried,” the Swiss woman specified, leaving you reeling because you didn’t know how to deal with that much honesty.

“Oh,” you replied, praying that some more words would enter your brain. “Maybe they also did it for me. They think I’m pretty antisocial in general,” you finished, kicking yourself for making yourself look even more pathetic than you already did.

To your surprise Ana didn’t seem put off; on the contrary she chuckled and said, “Well we can be antisocial together then.”

The Swiss woman using the word ‘together’ in reference to the both of you made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, you could definitely get used to that.

In an attempt to take control of the situation and not end up blurting out something stupid if Ana asked you a question, you inquired how she was liking Madrid so far. It seemed like a normal thing to ask someone that had just moved to a new place.

However the Swiss woman didn’t answer right away, which was atypical for her who always seemed to have a reply ready. That combined with the guarded look in her eyes made you realize that this wasn’t a safe and easy topic for her. In your rush to make sure nothing that would be complicated for you came up, you had totally forgotten that Ana’s own move to Madrid had been anything but a happy occurence. Way to be selfish!

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Forget I said anything, that was such a stupid thing to say,” you apologized frantically

“No, don’t worry, it’s fine,” Ana quickly reassured you. “I just don’t really know what to say. Obviously I didn’t want to come here, I miss Barcelona. Both the city and the team. So I’m not having the best time to be completely honest. Then again I also haven’t given Madrid much of a chance yet. So…”

The Swiss woman’s openness left you stunned once again. This could never be you, sharing your thoughts and feelings so freely. At the same time you noticed with a surge of excitement and dread that Ana’s explanation gave you a good opening, not unlike your daydreams in fact.

Your fear of being annoying and overstepping was battling hard against your longing to get to spend more time with the blonde in the future. In the end you decided to go for it, maybe Ana would appreciate it and if she didn’t want to hang out again, she could just say so. Of course there was still the fear of rejection holding you back, but you shoved that to the back of your mind. If you didn’t ask the answer would always be no, right?

“If you want to I could show you around Madrid sometime. I’ve lived here all my life so I know the place like the back of my hand and know some nice places. Totally fine if you don’t of course, I’m sure there are many other people that could show you around.”

You spoke in record speed, making it hard for Ana to follow, which was why it took her a moment to answer. These few seconds were some of the most horrible ones in your life. If she said no now all your hopes would be shattered once and for all. Everyone always said it was important to know so you could move on, but honestly if the Swiss woman didn’t want to spend any time with you, you didn’t want to know.

“That sounds great, I’d love to,” Ana replied once she had enough time to process your jumble of words.

“Really?” You double checked, the words out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“Yeah, definitely,” the Swiss woman confirmed with a gentle smile. A smile that you returned happily. You hadn’t felt this excited in a while, it was a nice change from the bleakness that had become your constant companion.

The rest of your time together was spent chatting easily. You weren’t a great conversationalist, however with Ana it came much more natural. The blonde definitely did the heavy lifting, but you were happy with your own contributions. You even made her laugh a few times!

Later that day when you were back in your apartment you were much more critical, taking apart every single thing that you had said and coming to the conclusion that you must be the stupidest person on the planet. Thankfully you were going to get another chance in a few days and this time you would be better prepared. You would say interesting things and you would make sure Ana had a great time. The blonde deserved some joy and happiness and you would do your best to give her that.

Before your next meeting with Ana you actually made a plan; you would make a list of her interests and think of possible questions, some jokes and interesting facts you could mention. You spent one evening on it, working furiously and then you realized what you were doing, feeling very foolish all of the sudden. You scrunched up the piece of paper and threw it into the trash with some force.

This was pointless and unnecessary and totally embarrassing! Maybe you weren’t the best at coming up with things to say on the spot, but rehearsing everything like this was a role in a play was stupid. The urge to do absolutely everything to get Ana to like you was huge, however is she only liked this carefully crafted version of you that wasn’t any better than her not liking you at all.

Also, you shouldn’t even attempt to get the Swiss woman to like you. Just like you should keep your own crush in check. Ana’s life was complicated enough at the moment, you didn’t need to add your infatuation into the mix.

Unfortunately your noble plan to ignore your crush failed miserably. Whenever you spent time with Ana you fell a little more for her. It was simply impossible not to when she was the kindest, funniest, most interesting and on top of that most beautiful person in the world.

Like when you were out and about on one of your strolls to the city and a young couple approached you, asking if you could take a picture of them. As was typical for you, you hesitated for a moment; not necessarily because you didn’t want to, but because your mind was already working in overdrive, supplying you with every possible negative outcome.

Ana on the other hand smiled at them. “Of course! Where do you want to take it?”

And then she proceeded to take several pictures of the two, showing them to the couple, and when they weren’t completely satisfied yet, she even offered her own suggestions on how they might turn out even better.

All the way you were just watching them, well mostly Ana, with a goofy smile. You loved how much she cared, how much effort she put into random people she didn’t even know. No wait, you didn’t love that, you liked that, admired it.

Or when Ana convinced you to go into a tiny café. A place you would have never frequented on your own because the intimacy of it freaked you out. Not the blonde though. Within seconds she began chatting with the owner, a middle-aged woman who was thrilled someone showed so much interest in her small establishment.

The cake you got was very tasty as was the coffee and the homemade ice tea. You were quick to admit that Ana had made a good decision by forcing you to go there.

However what really pulled at your heartstring was that the Swiss woman went up to the owner afterwards and asked if it was okay to post about this place on Instagram. The poor woman almost started crying out of happiness and thanked Ana profusely, while the blonde kept insisting that this was nothing and really it should be her thanking the owner.

So it was safe to say that you fell deeper and harder every time you saw Ana. But it was okay, you had a foolproof way to make sure that the blonde didn’t figure it out and therefore her life didn’t get disrupted because of you. Whenever you echoed a statement Ana had made about how much she liked hanging out with you or that she thought you were a great person, you always added ‘friend’ into the mix; “I enjoy hanging out with you too, you’re such a great friend.” and “Aw thank you. You’re one of the best people and friends I know too!”

Sometimes when you were feeling particularly hopeful you wondered if the lack of specification on Ana’s part meant that she liked you as more than a friend. You always discarded the idea quickly though. It was much more likely that the thought of being more than friends was so ludicrous to the blonde, something that had probbly never even grazed her mind, that she didn’t feel the need to explicitly state it.

Despite having to resign yourself to the fact that Ana didn’t like you like that, it still made you happy that she was usually in a good mood when you were hanging out. Something you were secretly very proud of. Still every once in a while her sadness shined through, for example when she heard someone speak Catalan or when she saw something that reminded her of Barcelona.

One time a group of fans came up to her. They were friendly and excited and the Swiss woman matched their energy effortlessly. But then one of them mentioned how sad they were that Ana wasn’t playing for Barça anymore. You were forced to watch the blonde deflate slightly after that thoughtless statement. She was good at pretending though, so the fans were none the wiser.

When they were gone you gathered all of your courage. Up until now you had stayed in the shallows of easy conversation so this was a first and once again you worried about overstepping. But when you saw Ana’s sad eyes and the forcefully pulled up corners of her mouth, you couldn’t stay silent.

“Do you want to talk about it? I mean your transfer from Barça? I know we haven’t really talked about that or othe serious things yet, but I’m always happy to listen. I’m actually pretty good at that.”

The Swiss woman sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.

“That’s very sweet but honestly I’ve been talking so much about it lately. Sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing anyone wants to talk about anymore. So if it’s okay with you could we just continue like before? The distraction has been helping a lot.”

You had been helping! Happiness flowed through you and your smile was maybe a bit bigger than was warranted for a situation like this. However unless Ana was studying you as intently as you always studied her, you doubted that the blonde would notice.

“Yeah, of course. I’m happy to help in anyway.”

Ana and you kept seeing each other regularly and it was the undisputed highlight of your current life. Honestly it was a little worrying how few other things brought you any joy, but you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on that.

So when you were put into a situation where you had to cancel on Ana you were devastated. It wasn’t an appropriate reaction to something so small, but you had a ten minute crying session until you could even begin to function properly again. Calling the Swiss woman was out of the question though, you were still chocked up and sniffling.

Instead you texted her, apologizing multiple times and explaining that you were roped into doing all sorts of things last minute for your father’s birthday tomorrow. You could have slapped yourself for not seeing this coming. Sure, your parents had assured you time and time again that everything was taken care of, but you should have known better. Then you could have done it before today and weren’t forced to cancel on Ana.

Only minutes after you had sent the text your phone started ringing with a call from the Swiss woman. With wide, panicked eyes you stared at the screen. In the end your desire to at least hear Ana’s voice if you couldn’t see her won out. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice anything.

„Hey I just saw your text and wanted to ask if I can help out with anything.”

You smiled at your phone, your heart warmed by Ana’s kindness. There was no doubt in your mind that she would actually follow through on your offer. Not that you would ever take it.

“Aw thank you so much, Ana! But it’s okay really. Most things I have to do at my parents place anyway. You know help them clean and decorate. So I’ll be out most of the day, and then in the evening I’ll have to bake the cake. Who knows how that’s going to go.”

You chuckled, even if you were feeling slightly panicked at the idea of baking. Normally your mother was in charge of that, but she had broken her arm a few weeks ago, so that was out of the question. Moments like this made you wish that you had some siblings or some cousins for that matter, just anyone to help you out.

“Not to brag, but I’m actually a great baker. So if you want some help, I’m happy to come over in the evening and help,” the blonde offered.

It would be nice to have some help, and you always wanted to see Ana. Plus she had brought up the idea of her own accord, so surely it was okay, right?

“That would be great actually. Thank you so much,” you replied, not giving your mind any more opportunity to drive yourself crazy.

Ana and you quickly planned everything out before you hung up and left to do everything else. With the prospect of seeing the Swiss woman later today you were a lot more cheerful than before.

“What’s got you so happy?” Your mother asked you while she supervised the decorating process.

It was incredibly frustrating since she kept criticizing everything you did. Every few minutes you had to step away for a moment, take some deep breaths and visualize how your evening with Ana would be, full of laughter and fun conversation.

“Not this, that’s for sure,” you muttered, low enough so that your mothers whose hearing wasn’t the best anymore, couldn’t here you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said louder, “I’m just in a good mood, I guess.”

There was no point in bringing up Ana. Nothing would ever happen between the two of you and even after knowing about it for almost ten years your parents still struggled with your sexuality. To avoid unnecessary conflict and awkwardness you never spoke about women you liked unless it was something serious. So never.

“You should focus on decorating and not smile so much. Maybe then we would get somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, but kept your mouth shut. No point in pointing out that most parents would be happy if their child was happy. And it wasn’t like your mother wasn’t happy about it, she just wasn’t good at being pleasant around you. Somehow she always felt the need to criticize you.

Hours later you got into your car, quickly drove away and as soon as you were a decent distance from your parents’ house you let out a loud scream, releasing all of the built up frustration. Then you set your focus on the near future, on the fact that you would be meeting Ana in half an hour at your apartment. Baking wasn’t really your thing, but baking with the Swiss sounded like a lot of fun. Anything was fun with her really; just being around her made you so happy.

When you got to your apartment Ana was already waiting for you, leaning against her car. A big smile appeared on the blonde’s face when she saw you and she waved at you happily. It warmed your insides, swept away any remnant of frustration from the long day with your parents, seeing how excited Ana was to see you.

You got set up quickly, putting out all the ingredients and opening up the recipe you had settled on. Then you turned to the Swiss woman expectantly.

“So any baking pro tips from you before we start?” You asked teasingly.

Ana looked at you sheepishly.

“To be completely honest I don’t really know that much about baking. I usually only bake once a year to make some Christmas cookie,” the blonde admitted, scratching her nose.

You frowned at her in confusion. This didn’t really make any sense to you, but you didn’t want to make Ana feel bad about it.

“So why did you say you did?” You asked carefully. „I mean only if you want to tell me, it’s totally fine if you don’t. I’m sure you had your reasons.”

The Swiss woman blushed a little as she explained herself, “I really just wanted to spend some time with you today.”

Your heart started racing at this confession, your hopes going through the roof. It didn’t take long for the logical part of your brain to bring you back to earth though. Surely this didn’t mean what you wanted it to mean. Most likely Ana was just struggling today and didn’t want to be alone.

“Oh I’m sorry you’re having a hard time today. You know you can always tell me that and if it’s possible at all I’ll always make time for you. You don’t have to make up reasons to hang out.”

Ana stared at you with a pained expression. It hurt your heart to see her in pain and it made you wonder if something had happened today, perhaps something that reminded her of Barcelona?

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked when the blonde stayed quiet, but then you thought better of it. “Wait no I’m sorry, you already said that you’re tired of talking about it before and that you prefer a distraction. So let’s bake!”

You put some extra excitement into your voice and made sure to keep up a stream of easy chatter as you got to work. For a while Ana remained a bit distant and quiet, but before too long her smile returned and she began talking and joking.

When the blonde laughed loudly at a joke you had made you felt very proud of yourself for giving Ana what she needed, a distraction. If you continued to be helpful she would keep wanting to hang out with you and that was also very much in your interest. Even if the knowledge that it meant something else to you hurt somewhat every time you thought of it.

However it was all worth it to get to spend time with Ana. Everything was worth that.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #ana maria crnogorcevic imagine #ana maria crnogorcevic x reader

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luizd3ad · 5 months

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Happy Birthday? | Poly!Moonwaterkiller x Fem!Reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Regulus Black x Barty Crouch Jr x F!Reader WC: 3,163 CW: swearing, teasing type of relationship, mostly fluff, slight angst at the end, slight talks of Regulus’s childhood, no use of Y/N Author's Note: This ship is inspired by @ellecdc please send her love. She's so talented and is just straight up amazing. Also I'm still new to writing so I hope you like it and I'm sorry if it's not good/doesn't make sense.

Summary: It’s regulus birthday so you, Remus and Barty want to make it special but sometimes things don’t go as planned.

I made this ig mood board inspired by the guy idk ive never made one before

˙‧⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆

“Bartemius Crouch junior! I swear to all that is holy in this world! If you stick your grubby hands in the frosting one more bloody time!”

“Oh come on Lupin! You can’t blame me, it's just so fucking good!"

Barty yelled, waving his hands around trying to defend himself.

You couldn't help but laugh at hearing two of your boyfriends’ bicker while you put the chicken you just got done seasoning into the oven to cook.

Admittedly it was quite entertaining and it helped distract you a bit from stressing over the cooking that still needed to be done and the small decorations that needed to be put up for today.

It was Regulus's birthday, so you and Remus had gotten Sirius to take Regulus out for the day so you and your partners could try and surprise him with a birthday dinner for just the four of you.

You couldn't help but stress seeing as he should be home sooner than later at this point, and you wanted everything to be as perfect as possible since Regulus wasn't completely comfortable with celebrating his birthday still.

He didn't find the idea of a party and things of that nature to be fun, he found it more stressful and anxiety inducing than anything. (due to his childhood)

So the three of you have always tried to do a little something to make it special for him and to show Regulus that you all love him but never anything too much as to avoid overwhelming or making him uncomfortable.

“Barty, my love, how about you go and set up the ‘Happy Birthday’ banner?”

“Anything for you angel.”

Barty says with a look that he reserved for only you.

It was love sick looks. The kind of look that could show the receiver every emotion the other person was feeling. It showed that you were loved by that person with their whole heart. The type of look that had both parties feeling vulnerable in the best way possible.

Even before you all had started dating, when you all were just friends in your earlier years at Hogwarts, he had always looked at you as if you hung the moon and all the stars in the sky.

He'd look at you as if you were the only good thing left in this world, and to him you were one of the only good things left in this world.

You and two other people that he held closer to his heart than he'd probably be willing to admit most days.

Though that didn’t mean Barty didn't love Remus and Regulus.

It also didn't mean it was a secret of how much Barty loved Remus and Regulus. In fact he loved them with all his heart. He expressed how much he loved them somewhat often in his own ways.

Especially since he could be known for his flair of the dramatics at times, he had expressed many times that he loved the three of you more than anything.

Not that anyone could deny, or question it. More like no one would dare to deny or question it.

Barty has expressed many times how he'd burn down cities, commit unspeakable acts and take on any unforgivable in a heartbeat for Regulus and Remus.

The love Barty held for them two was the kind of love that was teasing and could be chaotic in the best way.

The type of love that could only be described as a ‘I can pick on them but you can't pick on them because they're mine’ in the most loving way Barty could possibly manage. And may the gods help any poor soul that ever tried to mess with someone who he deemed as his.

But the love he had for you was a softer kind of love, it was sweet. The kind of love full of things like love sick looks, soft touches, sweet kisses and even sweeter words.

Along with the promises of burning down cities, committing unspeakable acts and taking on unforgivables’, who would expect anything less from Barty? But I digress.

“Yes please, piss off for fucks sake.”

Remus says in an exasperated tone waving Barty away. Barty then gasps dramatically and clenches his shirt as if he was clutching his ‘pearls’.

“You don't mean that, Remmy.” Barty all but whined.

“Plus you couldnt get rid of me even if you wanted to.”

Barty states sending a smirk and wink at Remus, which Remus just responds with by rolling his eyes and hitting Barty with a dish towel playfully to distract Barty from the light blush that's undoubtedly spread across Remus’s face, as to avoid being teased further by him.

“Barty’s right Rem. Even if we wanted to, we're stuck with him, unfortunately.”

You say with a sarcastic little sigh while trying to suppress a smile that threatened to form due to the two men playful arguing.

Barty then gasps dramatically once more and puts his hand over his heart as if you just stabbed him in the heart as Remus snicker at Bartys reaction and to your comment.

“Not you as well, angel. You should know that words hurt. You've wounded me, you've basically killed me.”

Barty then pretends to sob as you and Remus shake your heads with smiles on your faces due to his behavior.

“Gods you’ve been spending way too much damn time around Sirius.”

Remus says while rubbing his hands over his face trying to hide his smile. You chuckle and walk up to Barty and give him a hug giving him your best ‘I'm sorry’ look.

“I’m sorry Barty, I just couldn't help it. Remus has influenced me far too much.. Blame him.”

You say in fake sincerity with a small nod as you hear Remus huff at your comment.

Barty lets out a chuckle and hugs you back with a smile on his face looking down at you as he holds you.

“It's okay angel, I could never stay upset at you. Lupin on the other hand..”

Barty drags out the end of his sentence with a small smirk on his face as Remus scoffs dramatically at his lovers’ statements.

“Really love? It's my fault is it?”

Remus says with his head tilted to the side and eyebrow raised, as if daring you to continue saying that he should be the one to blame for your ‘cruel’ comment to Barty.

“Actually Lupin, I think it is your fault.” Barty stated apparently agreeing with you.

“And what has brought you to that conclusion Junior?”

Remus says as he walks toward the both of you with a small smirk on his face.

“My angel was just that, an angel. That was until you lot got your Gryffindor hands all over her.”

Barty says with a small shrug, feeling as if his point was valid and made sense. You supposed for Barty it did.

“Is that a fact?” Remus asked while getting closer to you and Barty.

“Yeah, Lupin it is actually.” Barty says, giving Remus a somewhat challenging look.

“You don't seem to complain when I have my Gryffindor hands all over you, Junior.”

Remus then winks at a now blushing and flustered Barty. You then cover your mouth trying to hide your own blush while also trying to suppress a giggle.

Barty tries to say some kind of come back and it just results in him stuttering.

“W-well I- Goddamnit! That’s not fair Lupin!”

“All's fair in love and war Junior.”

Remus says sending another wink at Barty and smirking at you while Barty stares at him with wide eyes in complete silence.

He had managed to make Barty Crouch Jr speechless.

That was actually one of the many things that Remus was good at, especially at the beginning when everything was still new and more unexpected.

When the four of you were in that space where you weren't officially dating but it was clear to you and everyone who'd been around your little group that you four had very strong feelings for each other.

It had taken Remus no time at all to get comfortable with having at least one of you flustered almost all the time, usually to the point of stuttering or speechlessness.

He loved seeing you three like that.

Especially Barty.

Barty wasn't someone you could easily make blush let alone actually fluster, especially with just words so whenever Remus would manage to make Barty speechless he felt like he won a reward.

Barty would never admit it but it was clear as day that Remus was good at making him a flustered stuttering mess.

And Barty hated it.

“Now love. I believe someone owes someone an apology for trying to place blame.”

Remus says, walking up to you now at arms length and giving you a pointed look now waiting for an apology.

While Barty mutters a ‘fucking hell’ under his breath and runs his hand through his hair as he walks towards the kitchen counter still mumbling quietly to himself.

“I'm sorry moony. Truly. Do you forgive me?” You say somewhat sincerely knowing Remus doesn't really care all that much.

“I could never stay mad at you, love.”

Remus says with a small smile he then cups your cheek and gives you a kiss on your forehead, you lean into Remus's kiss taking in the moment and enjoying the affection from your boyfriend.

When suddenly you and Remus feel a cold, grainy substance rain down on you, which you both quickly realize is flour once the shock wore off.

You then hear a familiar giggle, and turn to see none other than a proud looking Barty standing now several feet away, covered in white powder himself. He just stands there proud of himself as if he didn't just cover you both in flour.

As you stare at him wide eyed and mouth a gasp, he just gives you a cheeky little smile.

“You did not just do that Junior.”

“Oh but I think I did, Remmy. That's what you get for teasing and being mean to me.”

Barty then sends a little wink to you and a somewhat apologetic smile.

“Sorry angel. Collateral damage, you understand.”

Barty says with a small shrug and a tone that makes it seem like it's the most reasonable thing that he has ever done.

You simply nod with the most convincing smile you could possibly muster in that moment.

“Of course my love. I understand.”

You say walking near Barty and grabbing a bowl that's filled with whipped cream that you had made earlier. You then walk closer to Barty and with a smile on your face.

“And you'll understand when I do this.”

You say while grabbing a handful of whipped cream and throwing it at Barty just for him to duck in time ending with the cream hitting Remus in the face. You gasp and cover your mouth trying not to laugh as Barty busts out laughing.

“Oh shit Rem! I'm so sorry.”

You say trying hard and failing to suppress your laughter, while Remus wipes his eyes off with his hands.

“It's okay love. All’s forgiven. Just come and give me a kiss.”

“Ummm I would love to, honestly I would… After you clean your face, that is…”

You back away from a now smiling remus while he opens his arms for you and starts walking closer to you.

“No, now would be fine for me.”

Remus proceeds to walk closer to you as you start to back away towards Barty who's starting to calm down from his laughter.

“Why not kiss Barty?! This is all because of him anyway!”

Barty then gasps.

“Angel! I can't believe you'd throw me under the bus like that… Is it bad that I liked it?”

Barty asks the last part more to himself than to anyone else. He was so caught up in his thoughts for a second that he didn't notice you now using him as a human shield, that was until he felt a clump of whipping cream on his head and looked to see a smirking Remus.

“Oh. This means war.”

All of a sudden it was every person for themselves. The kitchen was now a war zone. Flour, whipped cream, sugar, powdered sugar, fruits and berries were being thrown all over the place. It was pure chaos.

The Three you were making a mess out of the kitchen and even bigger messes of yourselves.

Next thing you, you’ve been thrown over Remus’s shoulder while Barty is chasing Remus around the kitchen.

There’s so much going on, so much laughing and screaming that no one heard the door open. Which meant no one heard Regulus make his way to the kitchen, and so no one noticed him standing in the doorway till you heard him speak.

“I leave you alone for a few hours and suddenly the kitchen explodes?”

Regulus in all his stoic glory just stood there not even looking a little surprised.

All three of you stopped running around, suddenly feeling like kids who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Then all three of you look at eachother then at Regulus.

“Happy Birthday?” You, Remus and Barty said accidentally making it sound more like a question than in an enthusiastic way.

Regulus just points at the oven says.

“The ovens smoking.”

“Oh shit! The chicken!”

You yell as Remus puts you down and he rushes to the oven to take out the now burnt chicken as smoke fills the kitchen.

“Sooo… Chinese?” Said a very uncertain Barty

After opening some windows, having the Chinese food delivered, a few showers and quite a few cleaning spells the four of you ended up on the couch with a movie on not many words being exchanged.

After the movie was finished and the food had all been mostly finished Remus had brought out the cake that he managed to finish decorating while waiting for the food to arrive.

The three of you had sung (or in Bartys case basically screamed) Happy birthday to Regulus while he sat there with a ghost of a smile on his face. After another hour or so the four of you found yourselves in your shared bed.

You couldn't help but feel guilty since Regulus hadn't really expressed any emotion which wasn’t necessarily not normal about his birthday. You felt like maybe you had upset him in some way, maybe you over stepped or maybe he was irritated due to the mess you Remus and Barty made.

You were spiraling.

Till you heard a whisper.

“Thank you..”

It was quiet for a few seconds, you supposed no one really knew what to say.

“For what Black? I feel like we kinda ruined your birthday.” Said a almost half asleep Barty

“It wasn't ruined Junior! It just didn't go.. as planned..'' defend Remus who laid on the other side of you.

You and Regulus laid in the middle of Barty and Remus.

“Would the two of you stop bickering for just a moment please?” You say with a small shake of your head and a small chuckle.

The next second there's a small choir of ‘Sorry angel’ and ‘Sorry love’.

“What are you thanking us for, Reggie?”

You say pushing some of his black curly hair behind his ear looking at him softly, though he probably couldn't tell since it was dark in the room.

The only light coming through the window from the half moon.

“For today.. I know it didn't go how any of you planned or would have wanted it to go, but still. It was nice. I spent most of the day with my brother though he can be insufferable, loud and dramatic most of the time, it was still nice. And then to come home to the three people who mean everything to me laughing and having fun... That was the best part. I know I'm not the easiest when it comes to celebrating my birthday but, your three and Sirius have been the only people who have ever actually cared for my birthday. You've never treated it like how my parents did. Never used it as an excuse to have a big party full of people I didn't know or care about just so it seemed like we were better then them or make it seem like we were the perfect family, even though it was evident that we weren't. You've always made it about me and always respected what I'm comfortable with and well I appreciate that. So.. Thank you.. I love you.. All three of you..”

“We love you too Reg.” You say quietly, giving Regulus a soft kiss.

“Awwww did Regulus Black just say he loves me.” Barty practically squealed.

Barty then pulls Regulus into him so Regulus’s back is to Barty's front and then proceeds to messily kiss Regulus all over the side of his face while Regulus tries and fails to get away from him.

Remus then starts to laugh harder than you had seen in a while, almost falling off the bed as he hears the bickering between the two (mostly on Regulus' part) and sees the shadows of a struggling Regulus and a very determined Barty.

You can't help but start to laugh almost as hard as Remus as you try and get the words out to have Barty let go of poor Regulus.

The night continues for only a few more moments it's filled with more laughing and eventually sleepy good night kisses and I love yous.

To say the four of you had an interesting relationship would be an understatement. It could be messy and chaotic, it could be a fucking headache sometimes.

But there was love. There was always love.

There were mornings where the four of you would wake up and just lay in bed happier than any of you thought you could ever be.

There were tender kisses and loving touches.

Dreams and promisses of the future.

There were smiles and laughing fits that would fuel you for the days when you felt like you couldn't even get out of bed.

Admittedly, it was a lot most of the time.

There were screaming matches and arguing at its worst times but at its best times it was you and three people that you couldn't see your life without. Three people that made life easier most of the time. People who could make you laugh till you cried and that would hold you while you cried and fall apart.

This was a life that none of you ever thought you'd have the opportunity to have, and ever so often one of you would feel like you didn't deserve the life you had.

This was the kind of life that probably wouldn’t exist for you guys in different universes. But here, in this universe? This is the life you have and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

⋆‧⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

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sykoangels · 1 month

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Pslspslpslsls write a Logan howlett x ftm or male reader 🙏🏾🙏🏾 breeding kink….??

hi anon!! I have been playing to write this since I'm trans myself! (genderfluid afab) I'm pulling this out of my drafts so I hope you enjoy 🩷

Logan Howlett, there are many words to describe this man most people will call him egotistical a narcissist, and have a bit of a stuck-up bitch with anger issues. Some people might say he’s the most violent creature they have ever met, is some of that slightly true yes but do you care not because you’ve seen sides of him you thought he would never show anybody. It’s probably different because you guys have been friends for so long and that friendship turned into more later down in life. You and Logan have been knowing each other for years it almost felt like when you met him for the first time he was some attractive hothead with a smoking and drinking problem with some form of family issues.

And you were right when you first met him he was all of those things, but as you continue to talk, he was a vulnerable man dealing with his emotions in the worst possible way. You saw how much she was hurting and would comfort him every day even though he would hate it, but slowly he warmed up to you. Quite nice seeing him smile and giggle from time to time you guys kind of just kept each other company. He would also worry about you a lot. He swore to you that he would always protect you no matter what even if you and him weren’t talking anymore, he would go out of his way to protect you. Later on and your friendship you came out to him as transgender.

This was one of the most nerve-racking things you have done in a while, but it went surprisingly well. Logan didn’t care he still thought you were you. He was happy that you felt like you could tell him and ever since you told him he’s been doing everything in his power to make you feel comfortable. After that, your relationship continued to grow, but while it group platonically, it grew romantically. You and Logan would hook up occasionally kind of in the realm of no-strings-attached sex because you guys thought dating would ruin the friendship. As you guys continued to hook up you guys discovered that you had feelings for each other and wanted it more than just casual sex on the weekends you guys started dating and everything changed after that.

Logan was very protective over you and always had been and you always help Logan with several things around the house and also dressing his wounds, even though he doesn’t need to do that due to his regenerative healing, but he always found it cute that he would put little Band-Aids on his wounds. Overall, your relationship is flourishing, but there was something that was still ticking at you and it would always happen anytime you saw Logan even if he wasn’t talking about anything sexual racking thoughts in your head that He could breed me and I wouldn’t say anything about it or He could hold me down and breed me, and I wouldn’t even bat an eye. In some ways, you thought you were going crazy because no way in hell that was a normal thought especially when your said boyfriend is talking to you about a failed mission and all you can think about is him ripping off your clothes and breeding you till sundown.

In reality, you thought you were good at keeping this kind of secret to yourself. you wanted to tell Logan, of course, because he was your boyfriend and there was nothing wrong with experimenting sexually, but it was just the pure thought of it all and how it made you feel that freaked you out more than anything, especially for Logan’s reaction. having such a perverse thought, like this one that constantly racks her brain for days weeks, and months on end wasn’t healthy to keep in. After a while of trying to suppress this kind of fantasy, you just couldn’t anymore you would especially think about this type of topic if Logan was away for a little while. You would slip a finger inside your cunt and circle your sensitive cock dreaming about Logan’s cock filling you up like some make-shift Twinkie.

Logan wasn’t stupid. He knew something was up with you. At first, he thought you were just going through some things because he would be talking to you and it would just look like you weren’t paying attention. When he would try to get your attention, it was almost like you had seen a ghost. He had also noticed you were being weird around him kind of like lingering and looking at him when he would be doing normal tasks such as cooking, cleaning, and even smoking. He noticed that you would stare harder than usual when he would come out of the shower the type of stare where it felt like someone was burning into your skin. You noticed the lust and desire in your eyes constantly, but he wasn’t ready to give in to whatever fantasy you were playing out in your head. He wanted you to work for it or at least come clean him about it. He knew just the perfect time on when you might confess he just wanted to give you a little push.

The air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and whiskey as Logan stumbled through the door, his combat boots heavy on the old wooden floor. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across his rugged features. He tossed his keys onto the table, not bothering to look at me as he made his way towards the kitchen. "Hey," you called out, my voice hesitant yet tingling with anticipation. "Rough day?" Logan grunted in response, pulling a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. He didn't offer you any, which was typical. This night could either go two ways and you hoped it was the first option. "You want to talk about it?" I asked, leaning against the doorway, watching him pour himself a generous amount. "Nah," he muttered, taking a long swig. His eyes met mine briefly, dark and intense, before he looked away. "Just need to relax "You nodded, understanding more than he realized. "Well, let me help you with that." Without waiting for a response, I stepped closer, reaching up to unbutton his shirt. He didn’t stop me, his gaze now fixed on my hands as they worked slowly, revealing the hard lines of his chest. Each button undone felt like a small victory, a step closer to the edge you were both teetering on.

You always know how to make things better," Logan murmured, his voice rough with desire. You smirked feeling the heat rise in my face staring into his eyes. "That’s what friends are for, right?" He shot you a dirty look slightly annoyed, setting his glass down. "Isn’t that what we are? Friends?" Before you could answer, his hands were on you, pulling you close. Your bodies pressed together, the heat between the two of you palpable. His lips found yours, hungry and demanding, erasing any doubt about what we meant to each other. "Logan..." you gasped as he broke the kiss, trailing his mouth down my neck. “We’re just friends my fucking ass” he whispered, his fingers deftly undoing his belt. "no friend is gonna pleasure you like I do bub.” Your chest heaved with each rapid breath, your eyes locked onto his. "I want you. Right now." He grinned, a wicked glint in his eye. "What exactly do you want, my prince" Your voice caught in your throat, the words you wanted to say tingling at the tip of your tongue. "I... I want you to bend me over and breed me. P-please, fill my cunt until you can’t fill it anymore.” Logan's grin widened, his eyes darkening with lust. "Is that so?" he murmured, his fingers trailing down your neck, across your chest, and lower still, until they reached the waistband of your jeans. "Show me then. Show me how much you want it."

With trembling hands, you undid your belt, unzipped your jeans, and pushed them down along with your boxers, exposing your eager, throbbing cock. Logan's eyes flicked down, taking in the sight, and he gave a low whistle. "Fuck, you look good like that," he praised, his fingers circling your erection, stroking gently. You gasped, leaning your head back against the wall, your body arching into his touch. "ah fuck Logan," you whined, your voice hoarse with need. "Please, baby.” He chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "Oh, but I thought we were just friends bub. Now you are begging your friend for his cock? How much of a dirty whore are you huh? Why don’t you learn some patience mhm? But his actions belied his words. With one swift motion, he lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist. You cried out as he slammed into you, the sensation overwhelming, primal. Logan pinned you against the wall, his thrusts deep and relentless, each one pushing you closer to the edge. "That's it," he growled, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. "Take it. Take every inch of my fat cock.”

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your body rocking with each powerful thrust. The world around you dissolved into a haze of pleasure, the only reality being Logan and the fierce, unyielding rhythm of his hips. "Logan, I'm... I'm close," you panted, your vision blurring with the force of your impending climax. He pulled back, his eyes fierce and commanding. "Then come for me, bub. Let me see you fall apart." That was all it took. With a strangled cry, you came, your release washing over you in waves, your body convulsing around Logan's pulsing cock. He followed soon after, his own climax hitting him hard, his seed filling you completely, sealing your mutual satisfaction. For a moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing and the pounding of your hearts, both of you lost in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. You could feel Logan’s warm seed slowly spilling out of your cunt. It felt so good and oddly comforting having your greatest slutty fantasy come true. Logan looks down at you with a smirk before speaking

“Oh bub I’m not finished with you I think there is enough space in that cunt of yours for more of cum. Why don’t you let me fix that for you my cock drunk baby boy.”

Logan says brushing hair out your face making sure he can see you. You look up at him with a faint smile nodding your head as well. Who would say no too Logan breeding you like a slut?

Absolutely nobody.

#sykoangelssmut #sykoangels #need that #smutty fanfiction #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #fanfics #deadpool smut #logan howlett #ftm nsft #ftm ns/fw #logan smut #wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #ftm fanfic

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wellmetmat · 4 months

Text

There's a post from a couple of years ago which I was reminded of and wanted to add to today, about nobody wanting to take the supplicant role in courtship, but it's unrebloggable due to some constraint the OP put on it, so I'll just quote my bit:

Being attracted to someone is distressing. I think the largest part of it is hunger to know someone (?); but when you can’t get to know them well, it ends up a stunted obsession: all that drive-to-know - enough to build a deep, detailed model of another personality - chewing over scraps of phrases and trivial actions, until you’re snappishly bored with your own mind. Your skin feels hungry and there’s nothing you can do about it: “touch starvation” is a phrase that comes to mind. The person’s absence and their presence both hurt: absence obviously, presence because once you’re there you find that there’s still distance, you still miss them. It’s rather like homesickness. Courting someone is wretched. It’s frightening and humiliating and full of agonising waiting periods and jarring mood switchbacks. It feels something like being dragged along on a fishhook, with the line attached to another person’s little finger. Liking someone more than they like you is a position of low power. The incentives are to be servile. You have nothing to bargain with: whatever they decide, you agree to with a smile. You always try to sound happy, because that’s what’s most appealing. You give up on areas of confusion instead of trying to understand, because asking questions annoys people and any annoying act pushes you closer to the cliff-edge of losing them. Any small disagreement feels like a large risk, so you distort your own opinions a bit. You can’t be spontaneous; your inner voice is always tallying accounts: how many days since the last message, too few, you mustn’t bother them yet / how many days since you came up with something interesting, too many, they may forget; don’t intrude so much, but simultaneously what have you done for them lately, how can you provide value to justify remaining in their life. It seems bad that we’re like this. I don’t imagine humans are especially badly formed or anything, it’s probably just as subjectively rotten for every animal that does courtship displays. But if anyone eventually makes robots with emotion-like motivational systems, they shouldn’t include anything like attraction. It’s so silly.

I feel like resurrecting this today to celebrate being out of it. In the last two weeks, somebody has given me the double gifts of liking me and of having the generosity to say so, and show so. All I want to do is be glad and be grateful, and try never to cause this person to experience anything described above.

But I stand by the description, it is a correct description, and we are so badly made it is infuriating. @nohoperadio's good post on the tragic stupidity of pain incidentally also works as a discourse on eros: if there'd been any intelligence involved in the design process, distress signals would come with an off-switch! (Hence my blog tagline.) But instead, evolution is a pitiless idiot, love is humiliation, nonviable attachments take years to starve to death, and there is no moral of the story. Absurd. A baboon could design a better emotional constitution.

Delightfully, this week ACX introduced David Pearce ("For centuries, philosophers have praised suffering as a necessary part of the human condition. For decades, David Pearce has told those other philosophers that they are bad and wrong"), who is doing his best to make a better emotional constitution available, and I approve of such a project so highly that it's been necessary to stack new levels of approval above my previous maximum to encompass how right he is. It's really exciting that any intelligent and active person considers progress of this sort possible and is working on it.

#blind idiot gods #hedonic uplift #David Pearce #transhumanism #important life goal: never need to go courting again - it's rather early to call this achieved but suddenly I can hope

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poems-of-the-anentomologist · 3 months

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I think some thank you's are in order, but first, a story

I grew up in the south, and while it was never taught to me, I always got clues that being queer or feeling any emotions other than "the norm" was wrong. I was called gay for simply hugging a friend in third grade, and while I didn't know what the word meant I could tell it wasn't good.

All throughout my life I felt as though there was an invisible barrier that separated me from all the people I called friends, and I never knew.

Until I met them.

They were queer and they were open about it, they were happy and playful, and above all THEY WERE PROUD

they were proud of themselves

they were proud of each other

and their pride in turn inspired me to look inward

and I discovered things I didn't know I had kept hidden from myself for so long

and I grew connected and I fell in love and I felt whole and happy and alive for what felt like the first time in my life

and then it ended

they left, and I lost a part of myself

without my fellows, I felt exposed, like half of me had just broken off and left me stranded deep in an inky black sea

for two months I suffered, trying to win back their love, to do anything to try and feel that wholeness again.

and it never came, and I was forced to rebuild instead of recover

I guess you could say this challenge was an attempt to rebuild and an attempt to become proud of myself again.

And I couldn't have done it alone.

@leafgorge, I don't have the words to describe how happy I am to have met you, but the best I can try is to say that I could never had seen this completed without your help

@thecrazyalchemist & @reinagony your support and praise has kept me going through this whole challenge

@totheidiot your words describing what my poems have done to you have been the best things I have ever heard, and I am eternally grateful.

@mr-beeboo, @gay--gh0st, @amorphousprimordia, and so many more, you are wonderful stars in the night sky. Never go out.

@motordyk your post made the Intersex poem possible, and without you I would have been in some very hot water

@thebookshelflord your help on the Aroace poem(s) was invaluable and I can not thank you enough.

I'd like to thank the Children of the Stars, you are loved by so many, never forget that

I'd like to thank the Children of the Dawn, there is much to you and you all are so wonderful

I'd like to thank the Sweet Summer Children, we are all working towards a world where you can love those you love freely

I'd like to thank Cicada.

I'd like to thank everyone I haven't mentioned that deserved mention

and as one last thank you, I'd like to thank you, the reader.

Thank you for reading my work, it means so much to me

When I first told my mom about this she said 30 prompts wasn't really that much.

But it wasn't just 30 prompts

It’s all leafgorge's art, all the poems that others made inspired by me, it’s my thoughts and feelings and memories poured into words, it’s the friendships I’ve strengthened and the friendships I’ve been able to write about cathartically, it’s so much more than 30 days of prompts, so so much more

It's been a wonderful journey and I don't ever intend on stopping anytime soon.

Signed, The Anentomologist

#pride month #pride poetry #pride #I love you all so much #but I think it's time for me to sleep

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year

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Congratulations on your milestone!

If it’s not too late, I’d like to request Spencer/Reader post prison with this lyric.

“You’re the cure, and your eyes have dug me out of my grave more times than I could ever count. You’ve always been the one to breathe me back to life - The Cure by The Movielife

Thank you.

Oh how I love post prison angst! And this was the perfect song for, thank you darling!

You’re the Cure

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary - you’ve always been the ray of light in Spencer Reid’s often dark life. But in the wake of his incarceration, can you be his cure?

CW - past drug addiction, past parental abandonment, mentions of Maeve arc, prison arc, emotionally distant Spencer, break ups, bad mental health, mentions of not eating and bathing, an almost relapse, heavy drinking, maybe one swear, tears, hopeful ending.

WC - 4.4k

Spencer Reid had never seen himself as someone who needed saving. Being forced to grow up at ten years old when his father abandoned him and his sick mother, had a way of instilling in him that when things went wrong, he could only rely on himself.

His drug addiction only went to further perpetuate the notion that he was on his own. Even when his brain was muddled by the dilaudid he knew his team was aware of what was going on and not a single one of them ever said anything.

So Spencer got used to fending for himself, keeping his emotional issues internalised. He loved his friends but he learnt not to count on them. As such he made a habit of keeping his cards close to his chest, never letting anyone in fully.

Spencer Reid could only truly depend on one person and that was Spencer Reid.

But then he met you.

You admittedly joined the BAU at the worst possible time. Spencer was off work while he dealt with the grief of losing Maeve and he heard all about you through stories from Garcia and JJ. Both women described you as a bouncy, happy-go-lucky, ray of human sunshine. And to be perfectly honest, that filled Spencer with dread.

It was one of the darker moments of his life and the idea of someone coming in and trying to force their light onto him was the last thing he needed. Spencer liked to deal with his trauma by wallowing in it on his own, he didn’t need other’s trying to cheer him up, to drag him out of the shadows. He wasn’t looking for someone to try and make it better, to take his pain away.

And then you showed up and you breathed him back to life without even realising you were doing so.

From the moment he met you he had instinctively gravitated towards you, like you were magnets of opposing poles who were inherently drawn to one another. But his wounds caused by Maeve’s death were still so raw that he wasn’t in a position to open his heart up again.

So the two of you fell into a wonderful friendship, probably the best one Spencer had ever had in his life. You were the light to his dark, the sunshine on his cloudy day. You were the first sip of coffee in the morning, the crisp pages of a new book. You were his favourite song.

You were his cure.

The whole team joked about the two of you, often referring to you as work husband and wife. Truthfully what you had was essentially a romantic relationship minus the intimacy. And at some point Spencer found the scars start to heal and his heart began to open up again without his realising.

Almost two years after you joined the team, when Spencer kissed you for the first time, it was like the most natural thing in the world.

You’d been leaving work together one night and you offered him a ride home like always but somedays Spencer enjoyed taking the metro to clear his head after particularly long days.

He walked you to your car nonetheless and as you were saying goodbye he leant in and kissed the corner of your mouth as though it was something he did all the time. And then he kissed you again, this time directly on the lips and the strangest part of it was how it didn’t feel strange at all.

You never talked about what it meant but you didn’t need to. The next time the two of you went to the movies he slid his hands in yours as you walked towards the theatre. He spent the night with his arm protectively around your shoulders while you snuggled against him.

And outside of your door after he walked you home, he kissed you again, this time much more passionately. You’d subsequently invited him in and the two of you finally took your relationship to a whole new level.

You never defined your relationship per se. Somewhere over time Spencer started referring to you as his girlfriend and it was just so simple.

Your relationship had grown and blossomed as though it was the easiest thing in the world, like you’d always meant to be together. Up until he’d met you, Spencer’s life had been full of complications but you were the least complicated thing in the world.

You were the full stop to the end of all his paragraphs, you banished all the darkness from his life. You were the cure for everything that ailed him.

But then he was arrested.

Being locked in a cage for two and half months for a crime he didn’t commit brought all those demons out of the shadows that you had chased away with your light. He was sure even your sunny aura couldn’t bring him back from this.

And after his release, he started shutting down.

It started in small ways, ones in which you didn’t even really notice at first. Conversations became more one sided, his casual touches were few and far between. Then he started leaving for work earlier and earlier and you started getting used to waking up alone in an empty bed.

During his stints of mandatory leave from the BAU you barely saw him and you knew that was by design. It became apparent that he was avoiding you, pushing you away along with the rest of the team.

But you weren't the rest of the team. You were his partner, you shared a home together; a life together. You were once able to pull him out of any hell he was going through without even really trying. But this time he seemed so lost you worried he’d never find his way back to you.

Even when he was home, mentally he was elsewhere. Perhaps he was still stuck inside a prison cell at Milburn, or maybe he was trapped in a perpetual nightmare that revolved around Cat Adams.

You tried to comfort him, to offer him a reprieve from his dark thoughts but after so many attempts you gave up trying. There was only so much you could do and to be perfectly honest, you didn’t think there was any way of freeing him from the clutches of his monsters.

Seven months after his release from prison, the two of you called time on your relationship.

You moved out of his apartment and in with Penelope as a temporary measure while you found your own place. You took an indefinite leave of absence from the BAU while you worked on piecing your life back together.

You didn’t see or speak to Spencer for several months that followed the break up. You made Penelope promise you not to tell you anything pertaining to him, it wasn’t your job to worry about him anymore. And even thought it killed her to do so, Penelope agreed to do this one thing for you.

Spencer had allowed himself to get swallowed up in the darkness and this time even your magnificent light wasn’t enough to cure him.

***

Three months after the break up you still felt just as fragile as you did the day you moved out of his apartment. Your heart had taken a beating, it was bruised and battered and it would take a long time for it to heal, you knew that. But after three months you thought you might have made some progress. Instead you were still stuck at square one.

You’d moved out of Penelope’s last month into a tiny little studio apartment not far from Dupont Circle. You hated it if you were honest, but it was better than continuing to put Garcia out by sleeping on her couch.

You hadn't been back to the BAU since the break up and had recently started looking for other jobs. You’d interview at the DC Field Office and were hopeful to get an offer, but it would be bitter sweet. You loved the BAU, you didn’t want to leave, but you knew you couldn’t work with Spencer again. Not with the way your heart shattered everytime you simply thought his name.

You were trying to move on, it was all you could do. But what you didn’t realise was Spencer living in a whole new level of hell.

***

The final nail in Spencer Reid’s coffin was when you moved out of the apartment. And what made it a harder pill to swallow was the fact it was his own fault you’d done so.

He’d thought he’d been protecting you by bottling up his emotions and not dragging you down into the pit created by his time in prison. He thought if he didn’t talk about it, it would go away. This was one thing you couldn’t shield him from, one thing he needed to work through on his own the way he’d grown so accustomed to doing before he met you.

But he’d pushed you too far, right out the door. And from there his life simply spiralled out of control.

He left the BAU, just up and quit one day without any warning. He knew it was terrible timing with you taking a leave of absence but he couldn’t stop himself. He woke up one day and decided he’d had enough.

For the months that followed he didn’t leave his apartment much at all. He wasn’t eating properly, wasn’t showering as frequently as he should and barely sleeping more than a couple of fretful hours a night.

To be alone with himself like this for eternity would be agony. Without you there to breathe him back to life his appetite for living died.

On one of his rare trips outside of the four walls of his tiringly lonely apartment, he brought a vial of dilaudid. He kept it in the middle of his coffee table for weeks, unopened, just as a reminder that he could take it if he wanted to.

But thankfully it never did come to that. Instead of getting high, a particular rabbit hole he may never find his way out of, he drank.

In actuality, it wasn’t much better and he knew that. Just because he’d never had a dependency to alcohol before didn’t mean he couldn’t develop one, clearly he was susceptible to addiction. But drinking was the only thing that helped numb the pain, aided in distancing himself from his tormented thoughts.

Without you the demons were able to sneak closer and he lived with them among the shadows. You were always the one to shoulder the brunt of his misery but now he had to face it alone because he’d pushed you away. The lightness in your heart that he had always envied was gone, casting him forever into blackness.

He needed you here, the cure when his thoughts turned to cyanide, when he was going out of his fucking mind.

He’d been drunk for more days straight than he could count and with each passing day the dilaudid grew more tempting. He moved it from the coffee table more often, rolling the vial around his hand, tapping his nails against it; contemplating the sweet release that would come with just one hit.

But it never would be just one hit.

The things he’d seen and done in prison haunted his every waking breath and seeped over into the small window of sleep he managed. He was never going to be the same after that experience, it had hardened him in a way he never realised possible.

It had created a shell around his heart, a solid armour snugly encasing the organ in order to protect himself from his own emotions. But ultimately it hadn’t just been himself his emotions had been locked away from.

In the seven months you stayed by his side after his release he hadn’t once been able to tell you he loved you. It only occurred to him after you walked away that he hadn’t said that to you since the morning he’d left for Mexico.

In seven months the most physical contact the two of you had was a few occasions when you’d dared to place a kiss on his cheek. You hadn’t kissed properly, hadn’t been intimate, hadn’t even so much as held hands since before he made the decision to go to Mexico.

It wasn’t that he didn’t think about it. There were multiple times he’d almost initiated something, almost drawn you into his body when you were laying in bed side by side yet miles apart. But he always stopped himself.

The sad fact of the matter was: Spencer didn’t trust himself to be with you anymore. But in order to survive in prison he’d had to become someone he didn’t recognise and it wasn’t so easy for him to shed that new persona. And as if to really drive that point home, when he’d had Cat pinned against the wall with his hand around her throat, he knew he would never trust himself with you again.

The darkness was inside of him now, leaching into every pore. If he was the kind of man who could have killed Cat, or Scratch, and slept well afterwards, who’s to say where he would draw that line?

As much as he missed you with every strangled beat of his shattered heart, keeping you away from him kept you safe. And he only ever wanted you to be safe.

But without you, he may well meet his demise at the bottom of a bottle, or the bottom of a vial.

You were the cure. Your eyes have dug him out of his grave more times than he could ever count. You’ve always been the one to breathe him back to life.

And so maybe it was inevitable that he called you, perhaps it was a feat in itself that he’d managed months on his own. But when he found himself on his bathroom floor, half a bottle of whiskey clouding his brain and a needle full of dilaudid in his hand, the only thing that was going to stop his relapse was you.

He didn’t expect you to answer but he prayed you would. And maybe someone was looking out for him, maybe there was some kind of higher power smiling down on him because you answered after three rings.

“Spencer…” your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke his name. Just those two simple syllables from your lips wrapped him in a blanket of your warmth.

“H-hi Y/N.” His own was hoarse, run down. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken out loud and it showed.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, heavy and thick as the hand holding the needle trembled.

“Did you…did you want something?” Your voice held the weight of the pain he’d cause you and made even more tears fall.

“Uh…” he stared at the needle, brushing his thumb along the plastic tube. This was so unfair of him. He couldn’t do this to you, drag you back into his mess like this. He knew if he asked you would come running in a heartbeat. But it wasn’t fair of him to ask. “It’s nothing. Forget I called.”

“Are you sure?” Your tone was riddled in concern.

“Y-yeah. Sure. V-very sure.” He stuttered, choking a little on his own tears.

Before you could reply he hung up the phone before he could change his mind and beg you to come and save him from himself. He tossed the device aside and focused on the needle. He leant back against the bathroom wall, pulling his knees up to meet his chest.

The cool tile on his bare feet was a nice repreve, but the dilaudid would be better.

His shirt sleeve was already pushed up to his elbow, the tie was already secured around his bicep. The needle was full, all he had to do was press it into his waiting vein and all of his problems would melt away.

But this was one grave he may never be able to dig himself out of. Once he relapsed there would be no going back, no getting sober this time. But his sobriety didn’t mean as much to him as it once had, and perhaps it was worth succumbing to his demons for a chance at peace.

***

Despite how hard he tried to sound like himself, it was easy for you to see through Spencer’s thinly veiled lie. And as much as you didn’t want to involve yourself anymore, you couldn’t help yourself.

Taking care of Spencer Reid came as naturally to you as breathing. You didn’t intend on doing it, and most of the time he didn’t need looking after. But you did it anyway in small, every day ways.

You did it in the way you made him coffee every morning before work. You did it in the way you ran your fingers through his hair after a stressful day. You did it in the way you grasped his hand when he needed something to ground him, when you offered him a soft smile of encouragement when he needed it.

He’d always called you his cure, as though you were the antidote to all the horrors in the world. He’d told you that your smile was the sweetest medicine, that your mere presence in his life was therapeutic.

So if there was any way you could help him, even after he’d pushed you away and caused you to leave, you would find it and you would do it. Which was why after he hung up on you, you were quickly jumping in your car and driving across town to the apartment you used to reside in.

The door wasn’t just unlocked but it was open a crack. Immediately your heart started to race and you were so glad you hadn’t officially quit the BAU yet and you were still in possession of your firearm.

Your hand shook as you pulled the weapon from your holster, nudging the door further open with your shoulder. You made quick work of taking in the room. It looked to be ransacked, like someone had broken in and turned the place upside down in search of something.

You held your breath as you silently started across the room, manoeuvring in and out of piles of debris left behind in someone's wake. You headed towards the closed bedroom door, gun pointing right ahead of you. You focused your hearing but thus far couldn’t make out any distinctive sounds.

Pushing open the door, you found the bedroom in much the same state as the living room. You tried not to allow yourself to get sentimental as your eyes swept across the unmade bed and you thought back to late nights and early mornings snug beneath those sheets with Spencer. The bed that was so big but you’d never know it as he always kept you as close as humanly possible.

The bathroom door, like the front door, was open a crack and a light pooled from inside. It was then you heard the sound of haggard breathing punctuated by loud sniffing, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to well and truly stand to attention.

As you listened to the unmistakable sounds of a grown man sobbing, you lowered your gun and tucked it back in your holster.

A deeply disturbed and troubled man had ravaged this apartment but it was not the work of some petty criminal. Spencer had turned his home into a reflection of his own tortured mind, you had no doubt.

You were somehow more tentative after you knew someone hadn’t broken in. You had never seen Spencer cry before, he always liked to put up a tough exterior, probably something to do with him being the baby of the BAU for so many years.

You’d seen him vulnerable, probably more than he’d ever let anyone else see him, but you’d never witnessed him with his walls stripped away completely. And honestly, the thought of it scared you a little.

But no matter how scared you were, despite how much he had hurt you, you pressed on.

You inched open the bathroom not wanting to startle him and found him on the floor, hugging his legs to his chest and sobbing into his knees. But the truly terrifying part was the vial and needle discarded at his side. A silk tie was fashioned into a tourniquet around his arm.

“S-Spencer?” You gasped, covering your gaping mouth with your hands.

He stiffened and slowly lifted his head from where it had been buried in the fabric of his slacks. His eyes were red rimmed and tears silently streamed down his cheeks. His hair drooped lifelessly onto his forehead and his face clearly hadn’t seen a razor in months.

He somehow looked even worse than when you visited him in prison.

“Why are you here?” His voice cracked and his words were slightly slurred.

“You didn’t sound like yourself on the phone. I needed to see you with my own eyes.” You heard the sadness in your own tone, unable to hide it.

“I’m not myself.” He exhaled a breath that sounded like he had been holding it in for years. “I haven’t been since prison.”

You swallowed, daring to take a few steps further into the bathroom. Spencer let his legs fall and stretch out in front of him on the linoleum and you slid down to sit next to him, the only thing separating you was the drug paraphernalia. As if reading your mind he exhaled again before he spoke.

“I didn’t take it.” He wouldn’t look at you, instead he looked down at his hands. “I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

“Why are you slurring then?” You watched the side of his face. He clenched and unclenched his jaw several times.

“Whiskey. Not dilaudid. I swear.”

“I’ve never known you to drink.” Of course it was a relief that he hadn’t taken the drugs, but hearing that he was drunk wasn’t a whole lot better.

“I hadn’t had a drink in nearly ten years. I gave it up around the same time as I quit dilaudid, I guess I worried it would become one vice replacing another. But I needed something. And alcohol was the lesser of two evils.” He was still slurring but he was surprisingly coherent.

It didn’t surprise you in the least that Spencer could still string a logical sentence together when he was inebriated.

“Why did you call me, Spencer? Of all the people you could have called, why me?” You whispered as though you weren’t entirely sure you really wanted an answer to that.

He finally looked at you, glancing to his side with his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip in contemplation for a moment or two as though formulating a carefully curated answer. But really, the answer was incredibly simple.

“Because you’re my cure.” He shrugged, his tears had dried up but the stains on his cheeks remained. “And right now I am in desperate need of remedy.”

“Spencer…” You sighed, your own eyes misting over with tears. “I was always here for you, you could have talked to me about anything but instead you shoved me aside and tried to deal with things on your own.”

“I’ve never been very good at asking for help. I’ve only ever been able to rely on myself. People leave. People aren’t reliable. But you…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “You brought the kind of sunshine into my life I could only dream of. You have saved me in more ways than you will ever know. Your mere existence in my life has been more help to me than I can explain to you. That’s why I call you my cure, because it's the best way I can think to describe what you are to me.”

“I knew you would be different after prison, Spencer. No decent man can go through an experience like that and come out unchanged. But in your bones you are still the Spencer Reid I fell in love with.” You tried to tell him much like you had countless times in those torrid seven months. You hoped this time he might actually hear it.

“I’m really not sure that I am, Y/N.” He raked his fingers through his tangled hair with a meek shake of his head.

“I am.” You nodded. “I’m sure. Spencer, whatever you had to do inside was for your own protection. It was every man for himself and you did what you did to survive. And Cat…? After everything she’s done to you, I wanted to strangle the bitch too.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, looking a little like deer caught in headlights. He was gnawing on his bottom lip haphazardly as he stared at you.

“Really?”

“Yes, Spencer.”

“Do you really think I can come back from this?”

“Yes, Spencer.” You repeated, defiance in your voice. “And I’m going to help you. Whether you want me to or not. Because my love for you is stronger than the pain you caused me. I will be by your side, showering you in light until there is not even a sliver of a shadow for your demons to hide in. Let me be your cure, Spence.”

You reached out your hands towards him, palm upwards and fingers spread to create enough space for his own to slot between them. He glanced between your face and your hand a few times before his lip quipped up ever so slightly at the corner in a small smile.

And then he reached for you, his fingers finding those spaces between your own that always seemed like they were made intentionally to fit his. It was as though someone had crafted you both perfectly for each other.

Spencer had never been a believer in higher powers but it was the only reason he could fathom for how you had found him.

In a world consisting of nearly eight billion people, what were the chances of the two of you meeting? What were the odds of two perfectly imperfect people finding each other and slotting together in such an inconceivably faultless way?

As you sat there hand in hand, Spencer knew he would do anything to keep you by his side for as long as he lived. Even if it meant allowing you to see all his flaws, all his cracks. Because he was certain now you would love every one of his broken pieces.

You were the light casting away his shadows. You were the air being breathed into his lungs. You were the thread holding him together.

You were the cure.

#milestone celebration #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n

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ladyannemarie5 · 11 months

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Funny how Geralt always stayed on the sidelines with Jaskier's conquests for fear of a broken heart and yet he got a front row seat to watch the bard fall in love with the prince.

Geralt would cut the bard off when he started talking about the virtues of whatever man or woman he spent the night with, but he had no choice but to listen to Jaskier when he told him how the prince learned his song, because the poet appealed to their "best friends" bond.

Geralt smiled inwardly when the bard left his conquest for the night alone to go order him a bath and wash his hair with special soaps and oils after the hunts. And then the witcher had to witness Jaskier leaving him to go order Radovid a bath because "his long blond hair has never been anything less than perfect and cannot be left uncared for, Geralt."

Geralt always distracted the bard with a story of past hauntings with terrifying creatures every time Jaskier began to compose a love song for his conquest, but nothing could distract the poet when he began to talk about how beautiful and bright Radovid's eyes were and how he wanted to find the perfect words to describe them.

Geralt faked annoyance every time Jaskier asked to sleep next to him at night insinuating that he was too cold for a little bard. Geralt feigned relief when Jaskier told him that he would no longer bother him with that because he now slept with Radovid and his arms and fur blanket were more than warm.

Geralt kept as much emotional distance as possible from the bard who approached him in a tavern in Posada so he wouldn't have to deal with a broken heart from falling in love with a human.

But absolutely no distance in the world prepares him when that night while they were camping alone, Jaskier lying next to him and looking up at the stars, turns to him and says softly "I'm not in love with you anymore, Geralt. You don't have to act cautious around me anymore."

And Geralt can't say anything. Because he simply can't. He must have misheard, maybe the kikimore from earlier hit him too hard or something because there's no way, no world where Jaskier was in love with him. There's no way he would have wasted his chance.

Jaskier, oblivious to the witcher's stupor, continues "I know I made you uncomfortable with my affections for you, I tried hard not to throw myself at you if I'm honest, but Radovid... I've fallen so much in love with Radovid that I'm ready to let you go. I'm sorry it took me so long to give you and Yenna peace."

Geralt looks up at the stars in silence, not believing what he just heard. Jaskier is about to turn away when Geralt takes his hand. He says nothing, just a simple squeeze. Jaskier breathes a sigh of relief, the witcher doesn't hate him for that, he doesn't ask him to leave as he had feared. Geralt is also relieved that he is no longer burdened with the bard's feelings.

Geralt allows himself to hold his hand one last time. He allows himself a small luxury, so that he can silently mourn the loss of his bard and curse his own stupidity. Tomorrow he will watch as the bard is reunited with the prince, tomorrow he will watch with a broken heart as they embrace and the prince spins Jaskier in his arms, before kissing him and swearing eternal love. Tomorrow Geralt's heart breaks completely.

But just for today, just for that night, he allows himself to take Jaskier's hand, draw him into his arms and breathe freely the scent of the man he has been in love with for over two decades. Just for that one night, Geralt allows himself to be happy.

----

I really love to make me cry ^^

#Jaskier is confused for a while #But before they meet Radovid they meet Yennefer.#Yenn and Geralt kiss and Jaskier knows he made the right decision #Radovid and Jaskier decide to go away alone for a while #Yenn and Geralt try it for real this time #But Yenn finds out everything as usual #And when she motivates Geralt to fight for the bard #Jaskier announces that he has secretly married the prince #Ciri is done with her parents' drama #Jaskier is also her father of course #geraskier #radskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the witcher netflix #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #geralt x jaskier

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6okuto · 5 months

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Hi, I really love your headcanons for Touchstarved, they’re so great!! If it hasn’t been requested yet, may I please request Leander falling in love headcanons?

LEANDER FALLING IN LOVE

gn!reader | thank u!!!! \o/ es leander time :-]

don't know how to describe this. for ais + vere + kuras, romantic feelings develop somewhere in the process (ais and vere generally love being little shits so they could've liked you from the start.) but for leander, it's clear he's kinda into you from the beginning. LOL

this doesn't necessarily mean the relationship will develop super fast! leander pays attention and keeps a pace you're comfortable with, though he doesn't shy away from your flirtations (might be surprised, but then he'll smile/laugh and flirt back) or physical touch if you go for it. he loves it even!

one moment is him wooing you with magic...again... another flower! multiple, even! little fireworks! stars! a trail of flickering lights where you find him waiting for you at the end! you can show you're genuinely touched or tease him about it (is a lot of your job doing little magic shows? / is a flower the best you can do?) and he says he'll do something even bigger next time

another moment might be you taking charge in some way. telling him to back down/up, defending him, asking to take the lead for one of your adventures. it isn't often that leander's offered the option to be anything but a leader, much less told not to be. he offers advice but generally follows your lead, and is it weird for him to say that it was really attractive when you told that guy to pay attention to you, not him?

it all just seems too good to be true, he's too good to be true. so you're wary, even if you do really really want to get close or kiss him etc etc. and leander can tell, of course, so he'll just keep trying to prove himself to you

there has to be a moment where you find out how and why he does things for free—why he's the renowned leader of the Bloodhounds. that's not for me to figure out though! i am not a theorist [heart emoji]

But :3 I will offer :3 leander protecting his people above ground isn't a rare sight. leander getting super ticked off or cold is. he's all but mastered his charm and negotiations, until you're involved, and the bloodhound leader might resemble his rumors more in that moment :3c

he doesn't really run from his feelings? he knows he likes you, and that you like him too, so he doesn't see a reason to beat around the bush there. the problems lie with his gang business and possible necromancy if the theories are true, so we'll have to see about. That because there could definitely be some kind of fight or confrontation between you two depending on what he's doing

but anyway. when the time finally comes, he tells you being with him will put a target on your back, but he promises to protect you, even more so than he has been.

plus! he hasn't taken you on a proper date yet! you didn't think hanging out at the bar or looking for books or sneaking into buildings was the best he could do, did you?

! having a hard time choosing how everyone finds out he has a partner now. he could make an announcement at the wet wick if you're comfortable with it, making your spot in the gang official. it could be that people were already gossiping/betting on when it happens, and when he kisses your temple at the bar someone sees and cheers. it's really up to you! i think he's happy with whatever you'd like :3

so! leander's into you. when does he realize he's In Love with you

because i don't think he really had a Serious Relationship in his plans LOL. and that's nothing against you!! he regrets nothing!! it's just... there's things to figure out, priorities to be made, long term plans that have to be accounted for

i'm kind of imagining like. an oh shit moment. he may not say that but the emotional impact is that level

yes he was always interested in you, but it's obviously getting more serious, because he's thinking of the mundane? if that makes sense. like it isn't just that he likes holding your hand or kissing you, it's that he imagines it when he's tired and uses the thought of seeing you again as comfort. it isn't just that he'd love to wow you and take you on a date, it's that he's wondering if you'd mind going on some errands with him. he's fitting you into every area of his life in his head rather than trying to keep you separate

and at some point it just clicks in leander's head.

he can be the one to say it first! might even be the same day he realizes. you're taking a nap and he says "i love you," just to try it out. it feels a little weird but not unwelcome, and now he has to figure out when to say it while you're conscious LOL

if you say it he [ ! ] [ :) ]. maybe sighs and makes a joke about you beating him to it, but says it back sincerely :3

#touchstarved x reader #leander x reader #! will probably be my last ts hc post for. .....an unknown amount of time. was a bit of a struggle getting these out #im not super motivated 2 write 4 them neow... they sit casually in my head!#also theres a looming possibility that when the game is released i delete my posts #or put a warning at the beginning of all of them like. hey. the game was not out. i know im wrong here. have mercy #! really not sure whatll happen

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noramoons · 2 years

Text

seasons (waiting on you).

pairing: yeonjun x reader, (eventual) taehyun x reader

genre: college au, angst, slight fluff at the end

rating: T/13+

word count: 16.5k (i am so sorry)

warnings: explicit language, one (1) mention of alcohol, descriptions of a breakup, depression and anxiety depictions, mentions of harmful behaviors and thoughts, just so many post-breakup emotions being described for way too long BUT angst with a happy ending :)

summary: when your high school sweetheart choi yeonjun is off to grad school, you aren’t too worried about how your relationship will last—but your favorite coworker, kang taehyun, is.

OR:

a study in the seasons of loving and losing choi yeonjun—and how you put yourself back together afterwards.

playlist: telepath - conan grey, let you break my heart again - laufey, back 2 u (A.M. 01:27) - nct 127, i don’t know you anymore - eric nam, drive - ashton irwin, seasons (waiting on you) - future islands

I. PROLOGUE.

Loving Yeonjun was like watching a meteor shower cross the sky. It was beautiful, and you considered yourself blessed to have been able to see it with your own eyes—but like everything else in life, it was inevitable that it had to end.

And it ended too soon.

You still remember the day he transferred to your high school—everyone had practically stared as he walked down the hallway, beaming politely at the people at he passed on his way to his first class. He was like a celebrity almost instantly, and not just because he was a transfer student—Choi Yeonjun was beautiful, and jaw-droppingly so, at that.

You ended up having two classes with him, to the mostly-pretend envy of your friends. They did all say that they would be far too nervous to even try to talk to someone like Choi Yeonjun, but you didn't feel that way. He was stunningly handsome, certainly—but he was still just a high schooler like you. You didn't feel intimidated by him in the same way that your friends clearly did.

So one day you offered to help him with Mrs. Jung's pre-calculus homework—she was a notoriously difficult math teacher, but this was the second year you'd had her. You knew what to expect with her by that point. You didn't, however, know what to expect with your offer towards Yeonjun—it was just a passing remark you made at the end of class that you would be more than happy to give him some pointers on how to pass her quizzes if he ever needed them. Nothing too serious.

But he'd looked up at you. Blinked. And then smiled, meeting your gaze with those soft bright eyes that practically made you melt right then and there in that classroom. "Thank you," he'd said, as genuine a thank you as you'd ever heard. "I'd love that. Could I ask you for another favor, actually?"

You weren't entirely sure what he was going to say next, but you nodded anyway, despite your gut telling you no.

"Can you tell me some good places to eat here? My family just moved—you know that, obviously, but I'm getting kind of tired of takeout every single night. So if you have any recommendations that, um...aren't chain restaurants, I'd appreciate it a lot." He had laughed slightly nervously after that.

Something fluttered within your chest. Oh. Choi Yeonjun, for all his good looks and charming attitude, was kind of awkward, too.

It just made you melt even more.

You did end up telling him the best local places to eat in your city, surprising yourself with your own bravery when you told him you wouldn't mind showing them to him yourself sometime—and he replied with that reassuring smile once again. "I'd love that, too," he'd said.

You'd exchanged numbers, but you didn't really think anything would come of it—it was always possible that Yeonjun had just been polite, after all. He surprised you once again, though, with a text that weekend asking to meet him at the breakfast bar you had recommended.

Just me? you'd asked.

Yeonjun had responded within minutes. Just you.

On Saturday, you stressed for nearly an hour over what to wear, trying on combination after combination of outfits. Everything you had was too old (there's a difference between vintage and gross). Too new (trying too hard, much?). Too short (what will he think of you?). Not short enough (did you time-travel in from the 1800s?). But eventually, you settled on something that was just slightly above casual wear and made your way to the restaurant to be ten minutes early.

Yeonjun was there before you, giving you a small wave when you pushed open the door to the restaurant. You'd thought someone as cool in appearance like him wouldn't be the kind of person to get somewhere super early, even earlier than you—bur Choi Yeonjun seemed to be the kind of person who just kept surprising you. His outward appearance that made nearly everyone you knew practically fall at his feet clearly wasn't all there was to him.

You learned quite a bit more about Yeonjun that day, and you'd continue to learn more when he asked you to meet him for lunch again later that week. He wanted a dog, but the apartment he was living in with his family wouldn't allow it. He listened to just about every kind of music you'd ever heard. He was a good, genuine kind of listener, hanging on your every word whenever it was your turn to speak. It was a little detail, but you would've been lying if you said it hadn't made your heart beat faster every time you noticed it.

It wasn't until the third outing that you finally gathered up the courage to ask him what had been on your mind since that very first invitation. "Yeonjun?" you asked, almost stuttering on his name as it passed your lips. Get it together.

He looked up from his bowl of noodles. "Mmm-hmm?"

"Is this, um...is this a date?"

He only hesitated for an instant. "Is that okay? I mean," he had started, trying to hold your gaze, "would you want it to be?"

You nodded, maybe too quickly. "I would."

The grin that instantly tugged the corners of his lips immediately melted any insecurities you'd had away. That was always what being around Yeonjun was like—he just set you at ease.

You felt that same way a month later, when you'd agreed to meet him at an art museum downtown that you'd mentioned wanting to go to. He'd led you through the halls, warm hand in yours, gazing at the different paintings hung on the walls together—different expressions of love and hate and sorrow and every expression that man could expel into a paintbrush.

Well—you had been staring at the medley of colors and brush strokes on the painting directly in front of you. Yeonjun, unbeknownst to you, hadn't taken his eyes off you since you'd walked into this particular room. "I have something to tell you," he'd said. "I...I don't like beating around the bush with these kinds of things."

You turned to face him at the sudden declaration. Your heart was pounding against your chest loud enough that you wondered if Yeonjun could hear it, but you swallowed down your nervousness and nodded.

He took your silent reply as confirmation to keep going. "I like you," he said, never looking away from your eyes for an instant. "I want to keep going out with you, if that's something you want."

You remember thinking that Yeonjun had to have been able to hear how loud your heart was from inside your chest—you'd never felt that kind of nervous excitement before in your life. Still, you managed to nod again, smiling softly at his words. "I'd really like that too, Yeonjun. Because I like you too."

He'd beamed at you, looking at you like you were the only thing in the room, as if you were a piece of art to be marveled at despite the awe-inspiring works surrounding both of you—and you returned that grin as much as you could.

And now you're here, years away from that day where you and Yeonjun had both confessed. It's like everything has fallen into place just like it was meant to.

It's the longest relationship you've ever been in, not to mention the first long-term relationship you've ever had, and you've been fascinated by the way it has evolved. Seeing Yeonjun when you walk into a room doesn't fill you with nervous excitement anymore; rather, it calms you down, simply grounding you with his presence. You don't feel nervous about bringing your concerns to him, worried about what he might think about you when you overanalyze the conversation afterwards—instead, you take comfort in the fact that he brings his concerns to you, too. He loves you. And you love him.

You'd spent a year apart when he had graduated high school before you, but you'd promised with teary eyes as you helped him move into his college dormitory that you'd keep this going if that was what he wanted. "Don't, um...don't forget about me while you're having fun at college," you'd quipped in the parking lot right before you left. It was a joke (mostly), but Yeonjun had heard the worry in your voice. He'd smiled at you then, just like he had all those years ago.

"Of course," he'd said, holding you tightly to his chest in an attempt to not betray any of his own worries about the next year. "You'll have to try a little harder to get rid of me, I hope you know."

You did know—there was never any doubt in your mind that he loved you just as much as you loved him. Yeonjun had always kept his promises, and that year apart didn't change a thing. He made sure the two of you FaceTimed at least once a week, even during his exam seasons, and both of you always sent a goodnight, i love you text every day, even if it was the only thing you said to each other that day. You'd surprise him occasionally, making a trip up to his university to visit and spoil him all weekend, taking him wherever he wanted to eat, and he'd do the same to you on weekends he could come home.

You had been so proud of both of you for keeping that relationship alive for the year you were apart, and Yeonjun was overjoyed when you told him you'd gotten into the university he was currently attending. It wasn't long before you were side-by-side every day once again, just like you'd been in high school, and you were still just as in love as you were back then.

Yeonjun is remarkably smart—but you knew that already, knew it even when you offered to help him with pre-calculus back in high school. That's why it doesn't surprise you when he's able to graduate college early, on top of getting multiple grad school offers for his Master's degree. He takes you with him to tour the schools he's looking at, even though he knows you won't be there for a while—you're as much a part of his decision-making-process as he is. You'd waited for him in that interval before you'd gone to college—you can wait for him here, too.

Being with Yeonjun was like a dream, all of it.

You suppose you had to wake up eventually.

II. FALL

It surprises you when those seeds of doubt begin to sow themselves in your mind. It's been three months since Yeonjun has left for grad school across the country, but you can count the number of times he's called to check on you on both hands. You know you aren't the same lovesick teenagers you were when he had gone off for college and left you for a year in high school, but you had thought that it wouldn't be that different.

But a good relationship is nothing without communication—you and Yeonjun haven't made it work this long without reminding each other occasionally to keep in touch. So you send him a quick text.

< everything going okay? miss u <33

You don't have time to wait around for his reply, though—your shift at the university library starts in just under thirty minutes, so you decide you'd better go ahead and head that way.

Your coworkers are all lounging against the front desk when you clock in, clipping your nametag underneath your collar. "What's so funny?" you ask, tilting your head at their sudden giggling.

Taehyun points towards the study corrals. "Kai's drooling."

"I am not," Kai interrupts, frowning. "I..."

He trails off as a girl walks out of one of the study corrals, pulling her headphones out of her tote bag before placing them delicately over her ears, smiling softly as her music starts before she heads for the doors.

You share a knowing glance with Taehyun, who smirks at you. He's been a close comfort as you've started university—you feel blessed to get along with all your coworkers, but Taehyun is someone you've meshed with practically right from the start. Your majors are in the same department, so you've had quite a bit of overlap with your required classes—you and Taehyun have already spent many a day off together back in the library, comparing notes and cramming for quizzes together. He's a much better note-taker than you, which is slightly aggravating, but your memory is better than his, so you usually remember class material better than he does. It's an unusual equivalent exchange between the two of you, but you're both pleased with how well it's worked so far. Not to mention how easy he is to spend time with—you swear your study sessions with Taehyun almost always feel like minutes instead of hours. It reminds you, sometimes, of how your first few dates with Yeonjun had gone (this, of course, is a thought you squash the moment it appears).

"Oh, my God," Kai says, practically groaning even as you and Taehyun giggle at him. "She's so cute. What am I going to do?"

Taehyun turns to you, smirking. "What do you think? Think he's got a chance?"

You raise both your hands in mock self-defense. "Hey, this is all between Kai and that girl. Besides, I'd never date a coworker. Just gets too messy, you know?"

Beomgyu pokes his head out from organizing the storage closet behind you. "Aren't you literally dating Yeonjun?"

You scoff. "I'll have you know I was dating Yeonjun long before he worked here. Or before I worked here, either." Yeonjun had only worked at the university library his first year, but he'd gotten along really well with Soobin, one of the managers, and putting in a good word for you certainly didn't hurt when you had told him you were looking for a job at the start of the school year.

Beomgyu makes a face. "Well. Shady application or not—you're reshelving the architecture textbooks upstairs since you're almost late."

You aren't late, actually—you've clocked in five minutes early, but you don't quite have the energy for getting into a mostly-pretend argument with Beomgyu today. So you offer him a wink before grabbing a handful of architecture textbooks from the desk and heading upstairs to the art section.

You pass several couples studying together on your way up to the third floor. Only a few are really studying, though—most have notebooks and laptops spread out, sure, but just about every other couple on a study date of their own is putting much more emphasis on the date part, rather than the study part.

Not that you blame them at all—you and Yeonjun used to do the same thing. You remember plenty of study sessions where you'd gaze up from your computer to find Yeonjun taking a silly candid photo of you before you'd scoff, playfully begging him to delete it (which he would never do—you look too cute so focused like that, he'd say). But you always saw them later when he made them the lockscreen on his phone.

You wonder what his lockscreen is now, you think absentmindedly as you haul several books onto one shelf. It's been months since you saw him or his phone. At that thought, you glance down at your own phone tucked into your jeans pocket to see if he's sent you any kind of response to your message earlier—but your notification screen is just as empty as it was the last time you checked.

Those seeds of worry dig themselves deeper.

But you tell yourself again not to worry. There's no point—you and Yeonjun have been through plenty together. You know you have no idea how busy and stressful graduate school must be, but you're sure you'll hear all about it the next time you see Yeonjun.

It's the same thing you tell yourself when you get in your car to go back to your apartment once your shift ends, checking your phone once again to see an empty screen.

And again tomorrow morning, when your notification screen is still blank (aside from the outdated memes Soobin is spamming your work groupchat with) on your way to class.

There's no doubt about it now. Those seeds are planted. You're worried.

But, as it turns out, only for a few hours—because you do finally, finally receive a reply from Yeonjun halfway through your shift at the library, your heart nearly pounding out of your chest in a way it hasn't in years when you finally see his name pop up at the top of your notifications.

> hey!

> can you talk soon?

You look around the library. It's a Friday night—hardly anyone on campus is studying, but Soobin has still scheduled you, Taehyun, and Kai for tonight—you're practically over-staffed, so you're sure he won't mind if you step outside for a quick moment.

You make your way towards the chemistry section, where Soobin is currently organizing some kind of midterms display. "Hi," you say, sweetly.

He turns his head to face you, suspicion tugging at the corners of his eyes. "Hi," he repeats, slowly. "What's up?"

"Mind if I step outside really quick? I have to make a call."

Soobin narrows his eyes, and you know he's onto you. But he still gestures towards the door with his head before tapping on his wristwatch. "Just make it quick, alright?"

You nod way too quickly. "You got it," you say, beaming at him before practically dashing for the doors, pulling up Yeonjun's contact information on your phone and calling him immediately.

He picks up on the third ring. "Hey," he starts.

"Hi," you respond, trying not to sound too terribly excited to hear his voice. "How's school going?"

He hums. "It's alright, I guess. You?" God, he sounds tired—you'll have to come up with something really nice to surprise him with the next time you see him. You're not sure what his favorite restaurants are in his new city, but you can ask around with his friends—you're sure he has plenty already. He's always been that way—that charm of his had certainly worked on you too, after all.

So you make a similar hum of agreement. "It's okay so far. I really miss you, Jjun."

There's a strange pause after those words—as if you and Yeonjun had a script for your conversations, and he had lost his. You had fully expected him to return the sentiment, just like he always had before. Instead, you hear him take a breath. "Do you have time to talk, Y/N?"

The seeds of worry are back, digging themselves deeper and insisting on growing roots within your head. "Um...sure," you manage to get out, trying to ignore the sudden panic clawing at the bottom of your stomach.

He sighs, and there's a long space of time before he continues. "...I really wish I could see you. You deserve this in person at least, you know? But...fuck, there's no easy way to do it, I guess. I—I don't think we should do this anymore. Us, I mean—I think we need to be done."

You aren't sure if you heard him right. There's no, no way your Yeonjun just said...that. "...What?" you say, laughing nervously. "I'm sorry—are you saying we need a break?"

Yeonjun clears his throat. "No," he says. "Not a break. I don't think that would be fair to either of us. I think we need to be done."

Blindsided doesn't even begin to cover how you feel. You feel like Yeonjun has just dumped a bucket of ice water over your head through the phone. "Yeonjun—you're breaking up with me?"

He takes a moment to reply. "Yeah, Y/N. I am. And I'm so, so sorry, I—"

"Over the phone?" you sputter, indignant tears blooming at the corners of your eyes. "You're ending a four and a half year relationship...over a phone call?"

You can't see him, but you know the wince he's making, judging by the sound of the sigh that leaves his mouth. "I told you, I would've had to fly out to come see you—and I figured you probably wouldn't have let me stay the rest of the weekend at your place afterwards," he says, laughing awkwardly. "I'm too broke as it is these days anyway."

You just can't believe what you're hearing. This is a nightmare. It has to be. "So...what?" you choke out, brushing back tears threatening to fall from the corners of your eyes. "Did I...do something?"

"Oh, God, no," Yeonjun says hurriedly, and the concern in his voice is genuine. You know what that sounds like, at least. "Honestly. You didn't do anything, Y/N—it's my fault. I let this relationship grow static, and I let myself fall into a routine—and I just sort of stopped feeling the way I had before. I should have done this before, but I was too much of a coward, and I'm so, so sorry—I know it's a lot to ask of you, but I hope you can forgive me. Maybe we can be friends, one day."

A long time passes before you answer. "One day," you repeat. "But not now."

He lets out a short laugh. "I didn't think you'd want to be friends now."

"I...fuck, Yeonjun," you say, nervous and shocked laughter escaping your throat. "I don't want this to be over at all. There's...there's no way this just came out of nowhere."

He hums apprehensively. "I don't know what else I can say. It's the truth—I just let myself become bored with the relationship, and that's my fault. I should have tried harder a long time ago, and for that, I...I really am sorry."

"I—I guess I just don't see why it isn't too late to try now," you stammer. "Why?"

"...Y/N, I don't want to try now, anymore," he whispers, and it's only then that you really get what he's been trying to tell you all along. He's done with you—whatever he felt for you all those years ago when you whispered your mutual confessions in that quiet art gallery, is gone.

Yeonjun does not love you anymore. How you feel about him doesn't matter.

It takes several uncomfortable beats of silence before you speak again. "Okay," you say, voice shaking. "Okay. I get it. G...goodbye, Yeonjun."

He lets out a shaky sigh of his own. "Goodbye, Y/N. I'm so—"

But you hang up before he can say anything else. You don't want to hear another word from him now. You're trembling as you end the call, sliding your phone back into your back pocket. You're going home—there's no fucking way you can make it through the rest of your shift after this. You walk back inside as calmly as you can, sliding your nametag off your collar and placing it on the desk.

Taehyun hasn't quite turned around to see you when you do so. "Oh, Y/N, you won't believe what Kai just sent—huh?" He frowns, finally noticing your nametag on the front counter.

"Can you, um...can you tell Soobin when he gets back that I'm going home? I'll come early on Saturday, I'll do whatever he needs me to do to make up for this time, but I really need to go home." You absolutely cannot, under any circumstance, let them see you like this—especially not Taehyun, your favorite coworker. You don't think he'd ever let you hear the end of it.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you say, way, way too quickly to be nothing. "I'm sick. I...I-I'll see you guys on Saturday, okay?" You turn around and walk towards the library doors as fast as you can, practically making a beeline for the doors—but you aren't fast enough to not hear the familiar sound of Taehyun unclipping his own nametag and slamming it on the desk behind you.

"Kai, tell Soobin I'm feeling sick, too. I'll call Beomgyu to come cover for me for the rest of this shift."

"You...what?" Kai practically splutters, leaning over the front counter to call after the both of you. "What the hell's wrong with you two?"

You have to make it to the car. You can have the breakdown you so desperately need in there, but you are not going to sob your eyes out right outside the university library.

Taehyun, however, apparently isn't going to let you do either. "Y/N," he says behind you once the two of you are outside, grabbing hold of your bicep. "What's going on? What's wrong? Please—just talk to me."

You shake your head. "Taehyun, please, I just need to go home. I'm going to have a fucking meltdown right on the street if you don't at least let me get to my car," you sputter, voice trembling as you try to keep the tears at bay.

But Taehyun shakes his head too. "No. We can go in my car. You said you parked in the guest lot today because you were almost late. Remember?"

You do remember—and at this point, you don't care enough to argue with him. So you nod in agreement, following him into the lot in a walk that has to be the longest minute and a half of your life. Once you're in Taehyun's car, though, shutting the passenger door behind you, you can't fight the tears prickling at your eyes anymore.

"Hey—hey, talk to me, Y/N. Please. What's going on?"

You shake your head, burying your head in your hands to try to muffle your sobs. "He broke up with me, Tae," you manage to choke out, even though the verbal confirmation of what just happened just makes you cry harder.

"He—what? The fuck? Yeonjun?"

"Who else?" you snap back, voice shaking. "He said we've...grown apart since he moved away. That he doesn't love me anymore. But I still love him, Taehyun," you sniff, tears tracking down your face and slipping into your open mouth in what must be an absolute mess to behold. "What am I supposed to do?"

If Taehyun thinks you look a mess, though, he doesn't tell you. "Fuck...Y/N, I'm so, so sorry," he starts, gently. "I know that doesn't mean anything—but I really am."

You shake your head. "No. It does mean something."

He gestures towards his backseat. "If you want to beat up my backseats, go for it. I've done that after a few shitty shifts before—it can be pretty cathartic."

But you just shake your head again, sniffling. "I just want to go home, Taehyun. Please."

He just nods, turning the keys in the ignition before reaching into the center console in his car to grab an envelope of tissues, taking several and handing them to you. "In case you need these."

You sniff again. "Thank you," you say, even though you know you're nowhere near done crying about this.

You don't live too far from the university, so Taehyun's pulling into the parking lot of your apartment building before you know it. Your apartment is only on the second floor, and there's a set of stairs outside, so Taehyun is able to park almost right below your apartment. He turns to face you again. "This is you, right?"

You nod. "Yes. Thank you, Tae."

He glances for a moment at your door before looking back at you, worry etched on his features. "You want some time to yourself? I can come back tomorrow if you want me to check on you."

Normally, you think, you'd say yes. You'd want to go finish crying by yourself and getting it all out of your system right before you force yourself to fall asleep—but you think about your apartment. You think about the hoodies in your closet, the pictures adorning your shelves, the stuffed animals on your bed—Yeonjun is everywhere in your apartment. You can't face these remainders of him alone.

So you shake your head. "No, I...um, can you come inside, please? You don't have to stay, I just don't know if I can—"

But Taehyun doesn't let you finish, turning off the car's ignition and opening his door, immediately walking around to open yours. Normally, you'd make some quip here about chivalry not being dead, but you can't find the energy within yourself to make anything of the sort.

You make your way up the stairs before unlocking your door and making your way to your bedroom, trying to avoid the onslaught of photos of you and Yeonjun in the living room before collapsing onto your bed, covering your face in your pillows and sobbing the way you wanted to earlier. You hardly even notice Taehyun beside you, rubbing small circles on your back while you soak the pillowcase below you, chest heaving with hiccups in between sobs.

You don't turn around to face him until you feel like you've emptied every tear in your eyes, now red and puffy as you catch your breath.

Taehyun frowns at the state of you, finally moving his hand away from the small of your back. "Where are your washcloths?" he asks.

What? "Um...o-on the rack beside the shower," you say, gesturing towards the bathroom in the hallway.

You're perplexed when he leaves, even more so when you hear the sound of the sink running, but he's back in an instant with a wet cloth, sitting back down beside you on your bed. He hesitates for an instant. "For your cheeks," he says, tapping his own. "It'll feel better."

Oh. "Thanks," you say, somewhat lamely, before taking the washcloth from his hands. It's warm, you realize, and he's right—it does feel nice on your tear-stained cheeks, especially under your now-puffy eyes—a gentle contrast to the sobs that had racked your entire body minutes ago.

You set the washcloth down, looking back up at Taehyun, who offers you a reassuring smile—one you've seen plenty of times at the library, when one of you has messed up on organizing a section and had to endure a lecture from Soobin. It's not a bad expression to be on the receiving end of. "Come here," he says, opening his arms, and you let him pull you into his chest without a second thought. It's the first time you've hugged Taehyun, you think absentmindedly—but you suppose that doesn't matter. You're grateful to have him here with you now—you can't imagine how much worse you'd feel alone in your room now.

He lets you hold onto him for as long as you need, only pulling away when you do. "Did you eat before work?" he asks softly.

You shake your head. You'd planned on making something from your pantry after your shift, but the thought of getting up and being productive right now feels like a Herculean task.

Taehyun must be able to see the exhaustion on your face, because he just nods. "That's okay," he says. "I'll order in."

And he does. You spend the rest of the evening eating takeout from the Thai place down the street on your bed with Taehyun, who stays beside you and makes sure you have a nearly-full glass on your nightstand at all times, to make up for how you'd practically dehydrated yourself sobbing. And you do cry again in the middle of eating dinner, but Taehyun doesn't flinch—he just nestles you in his sturdy arms again until you don't have any tears left to cry.

He does make a comment about leaving if you'd prefer sometime past midnight, but one look from you causes the rest of the sentence to die on his tongue, and he doesn't say another word about it.

You wake up in the morning just before noon, and you feel only a single instant pang of panic before you see Taehyun's outstretched limbs on the couch in the living room, chest rising and falling evenly in sleep. You aren't sure when he got up to let you sleep on your own—you hardly even remember falling asleep, but the sight of him causes your heartbeat to even back out for a moment.

That doesn't last long, though—it's only an instant before your barely-awake mind remembers what had caused him to spend the night in the first place, and you immediately feel that now-familiar twinge of sorrow in your chest.

And it doesn't go away—no, that feeling hangs heavy in your chest. You know, then and there, that it's going to be a weight you'll carry around for a long time.

III. WINTER.

You're right on all accounts.

You never flat out tell the rest of your coworkers what happened between you and Yeonjun, but they must be able to read between the lines—all of them tiptoe around you for weeks. Even Soobin never teases you at work anymore, which you almost miss. You aren't a piece of glass, after all—but with the way that everyone treats you at work, you'd think you were.

But maybe there's some truth to their treatment. Not a day goes by that you don't think about Yeonjun's words—that he'd basically just gotten bored with you. You know he'd said you hadn't done anything, but you had to have done something for that to occur, right? It didn't make any sense otherwise.

You are proud of yourself when your track record for "crying over Yeonjun" goes from every day to once a week, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't still hurt. Just like the love you'd known from him had been something beautiful like you'd never experienced, you've never known anything as painful as this.

So much of your identity before had been being Yeonjun's partner. For Christ's sake, he was the whole reason you'd been able to get this job at the library in the first place—and now you have to distance yourself from that. You have to. You don't have another choice.

At one point, Beomgyu does suggest going out for drinks after work with Soobin. "Everyone's going," he adds gently, as if that will somehow be the thing to convince you to pull yourself out of your mental wallowing. "Won't be as fun without you, though."

You force a smile across your lips. You do still remember how to do that, right? Smile? "I, um...I'll have to catch you guys next time. I'm busy that night."

Beomgyu's eyes narrow. "I haven't told you what day we're going out yet, Y/N."

You wince. "Beomgyu, I—I'm sorry. I really appreciate you trying, but I just don't think I'm there yet. I'm sorry."

He rolls his eyes a little at that. "I think this is exactly what you need right now, personally. We'll make sure you have fun, I promise. So much fun that you won't even think about old what's-his-name the entire night."

You know good and well that Beomgyu remembers Yeonjun's name, and that he's practically putting on a show to convince you to go get drunk with him and Soobin and God knows who else—but you can't. Not yet. So you turn him down again, and this time he finally relents, taking the hint and leaving to sort through the returned books bin. Going out and getting drunk enough to forget Yeonjun probably is what you need right now—but you know you aren't there yet (Even admitting the 'yet'—the knowledge that you eventually will be at that point, whether you like it or not—is painful). Wanting to forget Yeonjun is accepting that what the two of you had is over, and truth be told, you aren't ready to do that. You're fully in denial—and you know it.

But that doesn't mean you're in the right state of mind to do anything about it. For God's sake, you haven't even been able to go through the photo album of you and Yeonjun on your phone yet and delete a single photo. The scraps of sanity that still call out to you occasionally within your mind tell you that you need to delete those photos of the two of you, that seeing them later will just make you feel worse—but you can't. Any act of cementing the end of the relationship is still just nothing short of unthinkable to you.

You're very much a prisoner of your own mind for the rest of the semester, whether or not you're willing to admit it, as you continue replaying Yeonjun's last words to you in your head, over and over. And over. And over. And over again. It's unhealthy—you know that. But you don't stop. You can't stop thinking about what you should have done differently to prevent this. Sure, he'd said you hadn't done anything, but that must have been a polite lie. Something must have happened. Had you been overbearing? Annoying? Had you changed, somehow? Had he?

Your friends and coworkers all tread lightly around you for the first month or so after the breakup, checking on you occasionally and reminding you that everything will be alright eventually (a lie, you know). Beomgyu gives you the notes from your morning class whenever you skip. Kai covers for you when you call out of work. Soobin looks the other way when you take fifteen minute bathroom breaks (which usually end up with you crying in the stall) and doesn't say a word when you come back, eyes puffier than before.

But that's exhausting to keep up with—you know that. Everyone becomes less forgiving around the middle of the semester—you still haven't gotten over that guy? What's wrong with you? You're still missing class and falling behind on assignments? Why can't you get a grip? No one says this out loud to you, of course, but you can pick up on the subtext—the implications between a shared glance between Beomgyu and Kai at work when you're almost late, between your friends when you tell them you have to finish an essay that was due yesterday—looks that pierce like a dagger to your stomach. Everyone is sick and tired of you.

Well—almost everyone. Kang Taehyun is a different story altogether.

You fully expected him to behave like everyone else—why wouldn't he? The two of you were friends, and good friends, at that, before your life as you'd known it had imploded in on itself, but you wouldn't have considered him to be a best friend by any means. Maybe you had missed some kind of memo, though—because if the way he's treated you since Yeonjun broke up with you is any indicator, his feelings towards your friendship are not at all what you'd thought they were.

Not a day goes by that you don't eat at least two meals a day, and that's because Taehyun is checking on you daily to make sure you've eaten. More than once, he's driven over to your house with food from his pantry to ensure there is something in your apartment to eat. He helps you stay on top of your schoolwork, too—hell, the only reason you even remember to do that essay at all is because Taehyun reminds you. And yet, these reminders never feel like a scolding, or like he's judging or chastising you—rather, it just feels like he's looking out for you. He's the only person looking out for you, you think—maybe even more so than yourself.

Which is why it surprises you, one cold, melancholy November evening as the two of you walk home from class, when Taehyun suggests talking to Yeonjun again.

Your eyes widen. "What?"

Taehyun nods, shifting his shoulders as he adjusts his backpack. "Sure. I...I think it would be good for you to get more closure from the whole thing. That's what's keeping you so upset, isn't it? That you don't really get why he did it?"

You suppose there's an element of truth to that. You certainly don't understand Yeonjun's actions—but the truth of the matter is that you aren't ready to let him go. You weren't three months ago when he called you, and you still aren't now. The ache in your chest that you've felt for so long hasn't subsided in the least—like a knife that only digs deeper every time you remember it's there.

But you nod anyway. "Yeah, I...I guess that's part of it. But—I can't just text him, Taehyun. What the hell am I supposed to say? 'Hi Yeonjun! Miss you, hope you haven't been feeling the same soul-crushing loneliness that I have for the past three months?'"

Taehyun winces at that before turning to face forward again, gazing at the sidewalk ahead of you with a sigh. "Maybe not quite like that. But...I don't know. He said he wanted to be friends, right? I don't see why you couldn't at least try."

But you don't want to be friends with Yeonjun—that's been the problem. Not just friends. You want to let yourself love him again, to feel that kind of tenderness and contentment and perfect warmth like you've never felt from another person before.

But that clearly is no longer an option on the table for you. What Taehyun is suggesting, however, might be. Maybe he's right. Something would be better than nothing with Yeonjun. Wouldn't it?

This conversation is how you find yourself later that night with your phone on your bed in front of you, fingers shaking slightly over the keypad from the nervous weight you feel at the bottom of your stomach. You've already typed out the entire message. You should just send it.

< hey, did you mean what you said about being friends?

God, why are you so nervous? It's not like you don't know the man—for Christ's sake, you spent over four years of your life convinced that you knew just about everything there was to know about Yeonjun. You knew about his favorite flowers, the piercings he wanted to get, how comically tremendous his appetite could sometimes be and how he'd always compliment your cooking, regardless of how you felt about it—but maybe none of that had mattered. You hadn't known that he'd felt bored with the relationship. You'd let that knowledge slip past you, somehow.

You press send on the message before you can talk yourself out of it, turning your phone over and stepping into the bathroom to take a shower, hoping you can think about something, anything else to hide the bubbles of anxiety floating upwards into your chest at the thought that Yeonjun may have responded already.

You practically leap out of the shower when you're finished, hair still dripping beads of water down your back as you wrap a towel around yourself, making your way back into your bedroom and grabbing for your phone.

Your eyes widen.

> yeah, i did.

> would you be okay with that?

The anxiety within your chest dissipates like hot water under the sun, if only for a moment. Your Yeonjun, and the effect he still has on you.

< yeah, i would.

His reply comes only a few minutes later.

> okay. cool :)

> i actually thought about sending this to you the other day. reminded me of you

[link]

Attached is a link to a YouTube video—a piano rendition of a song you'd listened to all the time (and probably forced Yeonjun to listen to in the process) when you'd first begun dating. It sounds beautiful on piano, the melody a bright cascade of hopeful and energetic sounding chords, and you feel your chest tighten with warmth as the video keeps playing.

It had made him think of you.

The warmth you'd felt in your chest before suddenly shifts to a suffocating cold. This is probably a bad idea. Yeonjun saying he wants to be friends probably means just that—that he wants to be friends. Nothing else. You, of course, don't feel that way at all, if the way your heart had soared when you saw his message is any indicator. You're just going to get attached again to someone you know doesn't feel the same way about you. You're only setting yourself up for more heartbreak—part of you knows that.

But you don't stop yourself from playing the video again, butterflies rushing through your stomach.

~~~

The weeks leading up to winter break are infinitely better than the beginning of the semester. You're comfortably caught up and staying on top of all your assignments. When Soobin assigns you more hours at the library, you don't utter a word of protest. One of your professors even comments on how much better you've done on this last essay than your first of the semester.

Taehyun seems pleased to see you in better spirits too. He still checks on you just about every day, but there seems to be less urgency in his messages. He's not as concerned as he was a few weeks ago, and you almost feel a twinge of...something at that thought, not quite regret but not quite disappointment, either—but you brush it away just as quickly.

Thoughts like those are easy to push away now that you're speaking to Yeonjun again.

If it was one of your other friends in your situation, you think, you'd probably be concerned with how fast they turned around on their ex-boyfriend, going from being completely, utterly heartbroken to gushing over a cute TikTok he'd sent—but you ignore those thoughts when they come, too. Maybe you are making a bad decision by trying to be friends with Yeonjun, but you can't find it in yourself to care enough to stop. This momentary happiness is worlds away from the unbearable heartbreak you'd felt before, even if it is likely temporary. Besides, there haven't been any repercussions of this choice yet, anyway.

Yet being the key word.

A few days before fall break, Soobin approaches you, Taehyun, and Kai in the middle of your shared shift, the three of you definitely doing the work he'd assigned to you and definitely not talking behind the counter about a movie you're making plans to go see after your shifts end.

Soobin clears his throat, and the three of you jump, turning to face him. He lets out a sigh. "Are all three of you going home for break?"

You all shake your heads no.

He perks up a bit at that. "Oh. Okay. Good! The library isn't going to be open all week, but we're still doing limited hours. Would any of you be open to working over the break? It'll be time-and-a-half pay."

Kai suddenly grabs for his phone in his back pocket, even though you don't think you heard it buzz. "Huh—look at that. My mom just texted and said she actually does want me to come home for the break now. Sorry!"

Soobin makes an exasperated frown, but he doesn't say anything else to Kai, turning to you instead. "Y/N?"

You shrug. "Sure, I can work. I'll be here anyway."

Taehyun suddenly shifts, standing up a little taller beside you. "Me too. I don't mind."

Soobin nods. "Okay, great. Thanks, you guys. I'll be here the first day, but the other four days it'll be just you two here. So..." he takes in a slow breath. "Don't do anything stupid. Okay?"

You can practically feel Taehyun fighting back a grin beside you out of the corner of your eye, and you have to bite your tongue to keep a laugh of your own from escaping you at Soobin's remark. "Okay, boss," you say, bringing a hand to your forehead in an overly enthusiastic salute. "We won't."

Taehyun and Kai both snort at your words, but Soobin just crosses his arms. "I mean it. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, okay? Or...anything I wouldn't let either of you do. You know what I mean." He narrows his eyes.

But you just laugh. "I promise, Soobin. We'll be fine. It's just limited hours, like you said, right? And it'll be over the break. We'll probably be the only ones in the library the whole week. What could go wrong?"

His frown only deepens at that. "...I don't even think I want to imagine that," he says before walking away, and the three of you only let out giggles once he's out of earshot. Truthfully, as much as you enjoy teasing Soobin with your other coworkers, you really don't think working over the break will be bad at all.

And in truth, it isn't the working part that ends up being the problem. It's what happens when you're at work.

To absolutely no one's surprise, the library is completely, utterly dead over the break. You can count on both hands the number of people that walk in for the first three days as you and Taehyun stand behind the counter, chatting quietly until you run out of things to talk about. By noon on Thursday, the two of you are the only people in the library, scrolling on your phones aimlessly with your shoes propped up against the help desk as the soft scratch of classical music plays over the speakers above you.

You smile when you see you've gotten a message from Yeonjun, opening your messages to see what he's sent now. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Taehyun giving you a knowing smirk in response to the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth—but you can't hide it. You wouldn't dare, you think.

It's a video of Yeonjun talking, telling you about a baby that kept waving to him on the plane back from his university. His fall break is the same week as yours, so he's going home today to spend the rest of the weekend with his family.

You take a quick response video, teasing him about his and the baby's apparent shared brain cells before going back to your mindless scrolling.

Or—you try to, at least. The moment your Instagram feed refreshes, you find yourself staring, unblinking at the first post on your page.

It's from Yeonjun's account. It's a picture of him at the airport. And he isn't alone. Standing beside him, arms wrapped around his middle with his around their neck, eyes closed and lips turned upward in a practically radiant smile, is a girl. She looks like she's been caught off guard by Yeonjun, but she's not disappointed about it by any means, if the candid joy radiating from her expression is anything to go by. You glance down at his caption.

thankful for you.

There's only one comment so far, which you're assuming is from her.

SO happy to spend this week with u <3

He might as well have put up a neon sign, you think. You know you can't know for sure, but you almost feel like this was directed at you—the caption, at the very least. Yeonjun has a girlfriend. He's moved on from you, in every sense of the phrase.

Taehyun must have noticed your suddenly expressionless face, because you see him frown across from you out of the corner of your eye. "Everything alright over there?"

You extend your arm towards him, showing him your phone screen wordlessly. His eyes widen. "Is that...no fucking way. He has a girlfriend?"

You nod, that all-too-familiar lump in your throat making its presence known once again. "Yeah," you reply, avoiding his stunned gaze. "I guess so."

Taehyun doesn't look away from you, even after you draw your arm back into your lap. "Y/N," he starts, quietly. Speaking to you the way you'd speak to a wounded animal—gently, but as if you could practically explode at any moment. It almost makes you feel worse. "Are you..." he stops, trailing off before he can even finish the thought before shaking his head. "Do you want to take a break for a minute?" He gestures with his head towards the punch clock on the wall behind the two of you.

But you shake your head. "No, I...I don't think so," you say. As strange as it seems, you don't feel nearly as upset as you did when Yeonjun had called to break up with you. Seeing that he's already moved on feels like ripping a metaphorical band-aid off. In a way, you sort of needed to see that he's moved on—that your hopes that the two of you could get back together, somehow, were foolish. Maybe this neon sign of an Instagram post is exactly what you needed.

Taehyun, however, doesn't seem entirely convinced, frown only deepening at your words. "Are you sure? We can get out of here, you know. It's just us in here right now."

You shake your head again. "No. We've still got nearly another hour—I don't think Soobin would be very happy if he found out we closed the library early just because I flipped out over Yeonjun again," you say, laughing weakly.

He snaps his fingers at you. "So you admit it! You are flipping out!"

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms across your chest. "That is not what I—"

But Taehyun is already taking off his nametag, placing it under the counter and grabbing the keys for the front door. He turns around once he's within a few feet of the front door, gazing at you expectantly. "Well? Come on."

You gesture with your arm at the library before you. "Taehyun, you've got to be joking. We cannot just get up and leave. What if someone needs to come study?"

He raises an eyebrow at you. "You think someone's going to need to come study? Over fall break? The day of the holiday? Not a chance."

"How are we going to punch out then, smart guy?" you ask indignantly.

But Taehyun just shrugs. "I'll just tell Soobin tomorrow that we both forgot, and he'll have to enter our punch-out times manually. Shouldn't be a big deal."

But you narrow your eyes at him. "'Shouldn't be a big deal?' You seriously think Soobin won't find it a bit suspicious that we both just happened to forget to punch out as we were leaving?"

"Not really. Look..." he says, starting softer this time. "If something happens, I'll take the fall for it. Alright? You need to get out of here."

You take another glance at the empty, quiet library. It's only an hour early. Maybe Soobin won't find out, somehow, by some miraculous stroke of luck that you know you don't exactly tend to have—but that lump in your throat hasn't gone away since you saw the picture of Yeonjun. So you nod. "Okay," you say, pulling your nametag off and sliding it under the desk beside Taehyun's, an action that wins you a growing smile on the man's face. "Let's get out of here, then."

You follow him out of the library, watching him lock the door and swallowing the momentary twinge of guilt at his actions.

Taehyun seems to read your mind, though. He looks up at you once the doors are locked. "Don't chicken out on me now. Okay? I promise. We'll be okay."

You nod wordlessly. "Let's just get out of here, then."

He smiles at you—that big ear-to-ear grin that causes nearly all of your worries to dissipate at just the sight. "That's the spirit. Come on. Are you up for going for a drive?"

"Sure," you say, nodding. Anywhere is better than being here, slowly falling into the trap of your own thoughts that you thought you'd narrowly escaped a month ago.

So you get in Taehyun's car once again, gazing out the window at the sun slowly lowering against the horizon, oranges and pinks spreading across the sky as if they were deliberate brush strokes from some invisible hands—just as beautiful as those paintings you and Yeonjun had gazed at that day you both whispered your mutual confessions to each other.

You shove that thought away just as Taehyun parks the car, and you look out the windshield to see where you are. You're at the top of a tall hill, trees around you on all sides as you gaze down at the college town before you. It looks so small from this distance, you think.

"I've never been here before," you say, turning to look at Taehyun. "I didn't even know this place existed."

He nods, still looking at the city below the two of you. "Beomgyu took me here once after a really bad shift. Got yelled at by some grad student for not having an extra copy of a textbook for them to loan when they had an exam tomorrow—you know the drill. It's a good spot to clear your head, I think."

You find that you'd have to agree the longer you stare down at the city, thinking about the perspective it affords you.

"We don't live in a huge college town, compared to some others, but there's still so, so many people down there. You know?" Taehyun says, as if he's reading your thoughts. Again. How is he so good at that? "I don't want you to ever think one person is the only person you could ever be with. That he's the only chance you'll ever get at love—that just can't be possible."

You know what he means. You even think it's true—you know it is, logically. But that doesn't mean this lingering heartbreak aching in your chest, in your lungs, in your veins, hurts any less. "Damn you, Kang Taehyun," you say quietly. "You make too much sense."

He laughs at that, finally tearing his gaze away from the city before him and turning to face you.

But you aren't finished, taking a deep breath before you continue. "I should've never let myself care about someone this much. This—this whole thing," you say, waving your arm in front of you in a vague gesture, "is just so stupid."

He frowns at that. "No," Taehyun says, shaking his head. "This isn't stupid. You're not stupid."

You shake your head right back. "I let being Yeonjun's partner be my most important trait. It was all I cared about—he was all I cared about. I shouldn't have done that, shouldn't have put him on such a pedestal like that."

Taehyun mulls your words over for a moment. "Maybe," he says. "But I don't think you should be mad at yourself for loving him. There's nothing wrong with that. And I think you've learned and grown through the relationship—you'll probably be a better partner in the next one you're in, too."

That thought still stings—of another relationship, of giving up completely on Yeonjun. Even though he's obviously given up on you. "I just don't know what I did wrong. I have to have done something—a relationship doesn't just end like that. Does it?" Yeonjun had been so many of your firsts—and now, he was the first person to ever break up with you. You'd always been the one in charge of that in the brief relationships you'd had before him, the ones that hadn't left nearly the kind of impact Yeonjun had had on you.

Taehyun shrugs lightly. "I don't have that much experience, but I can tell you that sometimes that is exactly what happens. People really can fall out of love—of course, that's because of their own feelings. Not usually anything to do with the other person," he adds quickly. "If anything, it says how much more equipped you are to handle a long-term, long-distance relationship than he is. You're the mature one. He's not."

"Clearly not," you scoff. "I'm still the one crying over him, and he's already moved on. Sounds like he's more mature than I am."

"That I disagree with," Taehyun counters immediately. "The fact that it's still upsetting you means that the relationship meant something different to you than it did to him—he must not have taken it as seriously as you. And that's his fault."

You're quiet for a moment after that. The sun has almost completely set now, dusk enveloping the college town before you as the city lights begin to twinkle in the dark. But you still find yourself ruminating. The hollowness you feel now is almost scarier than the heartbreak—you aren't even that sad anymore. Just empty. And you tell Taehyun this. "It still scares me—feeling like I don't know who I am now. I feel like I built up an entire imaginary future with him—and now I don't know what to expect of anything anymore."

Taehyun takes a breath as he nods. "I know," he says gently. "But the future is always like that. You know? Nothing's ever guaranteed, no matter how much we cling to the things we care about. Still—I want you to know that you're so, so much more than being someone's partner. I think you're incredibly clever, and funny, and smart, and beautiful—don't you dare look at me like that, Y/N," he says, only somewhat teasingly as you raise your eyebrows at that last addition. "I'm serious. It's okay to care about someone, but I want you to know that you are still worth so, so much as your own person. Regardless of whether you're with someone or not."

You wish you had better words to say to Taehyun—poetic, soft words to thank him in the same way that he's comforting you. Instead, you let the silence speak for you, losing yourself to the soft hum of Taehyun's radio and the glittering stars that have finally come out in the sky. It's a comfortable silence, though—and you feel those knots of worry and heartbreak at the pit of your stomach slowly start to untangle themselves. Just a little—but they do nonetheless.

It's long past nightfall when Taehyun finally drives you home, telling you goodnight and looking like there's more that he wants to say, even as he drives away—but you find yourself content in the moment anyway, even when you get ready for bed and slip under your covers.

But that doesn't mean the pain has gone away entirely.

Taehyun had told you to call him if you started feeling down about the whole situation, but when you wake up in the morning and feel that familiar heavy sorrow in your chest, you don't tell Taehyun a thing. Instead, you let yourself lie on your side and bring your knees up to your chest and weep, burying your face in the pillowcase until it's practically soaked through from your tears. You let yourself cry for yourself—for the version of you who has died, for the Yeonjun you had loved for so long and with such intensity, and for you now who will never again be the person you were before.

It would be different if the two of you had ended things dramatically, you think—if Yeonjun had cheated on you, or if you had been an unsupportive partner—but none of those things happened. It just ended. And he has already moved on, the way you imagine a normal person does.

Somehow, you think, that still makes it worse.

But you think back on what Taehyun had said to you last night, even as you brush away the tears staining your cheeks. Choi Yeonjun is not the only person in the world—it doesn't make sense to think of him as the only person who could ever love you. Yes, your relationship coming to an end still hurts like nothing you've ever experienced before—but already you can feel that ache subsiding, even if those moments are few and far between. Yeonjun had fully severed what was left of the two of you, but it now feels to you like it was necessary. Like it was something you needed—the beginning of a new path for you.

~~~

The rest of the semester goes by in a blur after fall break. You're so caught up in the mess of finals and work that you barely have time to think about anything else, let alone what's left of your feelings towards Yeonjun.

If Soobin knows about you and Taehyun closing early and conveniently forgetting to punch out, he never says a word—but you do work considerably more hours than usual in the weeks leading up to your final exams. Soobin says it's the busiest time of the year for the library, so he needs all hands on deck to help all the students coming in and out. Which you do believe—but you still have a sneaky feeling that you and Taehyun are working more than Beomgyu and Kai.

You wonder if your professors are all in some kind of secret conspiracy to make their students suffer as much as possible, since all five of your exams are stacked over the course of three days. You survive, even after pulling an all-nighter to prepare, which does mean that you should be able to relax at the end of the week while your other coworkers are still cramming. On Friday, though Beomgyu and Kai still have one last final, which is why you and Taehyun both find yourselves working a double to cover for them while they take their exams. It's a long shift, full of snappy students and an exhausted Soobin—by the time 10 p.m. finally rolls around, you feel yourself on the verge of collapsing as you clock out with Taehyun.

Your favorite coworker raises an eyebrow at your exhausted state. "You alright?" he asks, tapping at his shirt collar before extending a hand to you.

Your nametag. Christ, you'd almost forgotten. You sigh, nodding as you slip your nametag off of your shirt before placing it in Taehyun's waiting palm, who then moves to slide it under the front counter with his and your other coworkers' tags. "You mean you don't feel like you're about to pass out after that? I thought today would never end."

He laughs a little as the two of you walk towards the front door. "Sure I do. But you saw what Kai sent in the work chat, right? He and Beomgyu are going out later tonight now that they're done with finals. Of course, I'm not sure if that means they feel like they did good or bad, to be honest—but I guess we'll know when we get there. I told them I'd meet them once we were done with work."

You laugh too, pulling your car keys out of your pocket now that you're only a few feet from your respective vehicles. "Yeah, I saw it. But you guys can go ahead—I think I need to turn in early tonight. I'll see you all after the break, okay?"

The look on Taehyun's face fades a little, and he stops walking right in front of your cars. "Are you sure? It might be fun—you know how funny Beomgyu gets."

You stop walking too, standing beside him. The thought of tipsy Beomgyu does bring back fond memories of work parties past—the occasion where he tried to convince everyone to jump into a pool, fully clothed, at the house party where you all barely knew the owner was a particularly fun one—but you don't feel up for it tonight. So you shake your head. "No—I'm too tired, Taehyun. But you all have fun, seriously. Just be safe, alright?" You wink at him teasingly.

But he doesn't return the gesture. Rather, an unusual look washes over his face—an expression of determination that you aren't sure you've ever seen from him before. "You're going home tomorrow, right?" he asks suddenly.

You nod. "Yeah, I'm spending the break with my parents. Why?"

Taehyun visibly swallows before he opens his mouth again to speak. You feel a sudden uneasiness develop in the pit of your stomach just before you hear him say "I'm telling you now, then. I like you, Y/N." Suddenly. Just the way Yeonjun had in that art museum all those years ago.

The two of you are outside, but you suddenly feel like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the parking lot you're standing in. You blink. "What?"

He nods, gaze unwavering from yours. "I like you."

He's joking. He has to be. Either that, or you really did pass out in the library earlier, and this is all some kind of dream. "...You like me," you repeat, slowly. A short laugh escapes you before you can stop yourself. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said," he says. "I know this is a pretty terrible time to tell you this, but—"

"Yes," you say, practically unable to believe what you're hearing. "Yes, Taehyun, this is a terrible time to tell me—God, why would you tell me this?"

"Because it's true," he replies almost instantly. "And I'm not telling you because I want you to say the same thing. You don't have to say anything, actually, I...I just wanted you to know."

Your heart sinks to your chest at that. "So, you...you'd confess to someone who you know won't reciprocate? Why?"

Taehyun shakes his head. "I'm not telling you because I want anything to happen. Not right now, anyway—I'm not that stupid. I think." He tries to laugh, but the sound doesn't quite come out right. "I just want you to know, in case you ever feel the same way."

In case you ever feel the same way. He doesn't think you like him back. Hell—do you? The thought of romance has been so banned from your mind for the last several months that you haven't even entertained the notion, whether it was Taehyun or anyone else in the world—but you think about that. You think about the way those feelings of tight anxiety in your chest loosen when you see that you're scheduled to work with him, how your heart beats faster when you get a notification on your phone from him—not to mention that evening you'd spent in his car on the hilltop overlooking the city. Those feelings of warmth that ignite within you every time you'd looked over at him that night probably were feelings of attraction. You just haven't been able to even entertain this thought, of liking someone else, in ages. You almost can't ever remember when—and that frightens you. "I...I think I do feel that way, though," you say. "I care about you, Taehyun. So, so much. You've been the only person I could depend on for the last three months, but...but I think you deserve better than this. God, you should know better than anyone that I'm nowhere near being over Yeonjun. That I'm in no state to even think about dating someone right now." You laugh, tone dripping with self-deprecation. "I'm a mess. I barely even remember what those feelings are even like. You have to know that anything I do in this mental state now would just be a rebound, even if I didn't want it to be, and I...I don't want to do that to you."

Taehyun nods quickly, taking a step closer. "You're not a mess. But I do know how you feel—which is why I wanted to tell you. You don't have to do anything about it now if you don't want to," he says again. "I just wanted you to know."

You shake your head, surprised to feel sudden tears of frustration brimming at the corners of your eyes. "God...Taehyun, please don't do this to me," you whisper, holding back a sniff. He's close enough to you that he can hear, even at this volume. "I don't want to lose you too." Things will never be the same between the two of you—you know this as well as you know your own name. No matter how much the two of you try to awkwardly dance around each other from now on, you'll never forget that you had this conversation. You can never go back to just being friends.

But Taehyun shakes his head fervently. "You won't lose me," he says, voice unwavering before he makes a slight move to reach for your hand out of instinct before stopping himself. "Not if you don't want to. I'll stick around for as long as you want me to."

You grab his hand anyway, even as he looks up at you in shock. "So...what? You'd wait for me?" you say, laughing quietly. "I can't ask that of you. That isn't fair to you."

He just shakes his head again. "If you want me to, I will. I'll wait as long as you need me to—I'm telling you, I don't mind."

You scoff a little at that before you can stop yourself. "You say that now, but I...I have no idea when I'll feel ready to think about being with anyone again. I'm sorry, Taehyun—but I don't know how long this could take. You know? I mean, I'd hope it wouldn't be years," you say, laughing hollowly, "but I just have no idea. And I just don't understand why you would do this—wait for me. I mean...look at you," you say, laughing nervously as you gesture vaguely towards his figure. You haven't thought about him in that way before—or maybe you haven't let yourself think of him in that way, you realize now—but you can't ignore the sharp lines of his jaw, the clearly defined strength beneath his sweater—Taehyun is beautiful. There could never be any denying it. "You're perfect, Taehyun. You could have anyone you wanted—certainly someone less fucked up than me. Someone you wouldn't have to wait to be with, I—"

But he just shakes his head. "I most certainly am not perfect—but I just want to see you happy," he replies, voice as calm and steady as ever. You wonder if this is how he imagined this conversation going. "Whether that's with me, or someone else, or on your own—that's okay. And I...you know now. I'd like for it to be with me, if that's possible," he adds, laughing a little, "but if it's not, that's okay too. You just deserve to be happy, and I want to see that happen for you."

You let his words hang in the air between the two of you for a long, long time. The only sound in the entire parking lot is the occasional soft jangling of your keys when a gust of wind passes by.

He'd wait for you.

"...I really don't know how long it will be until I can think about this," you say again, breaking the momentary silence.

But Taehyun just nods, gently squeezing your hand. You'd almost forgotten your fingers were still interlaced with his. "I'm telling you, that's okay. I'll wait as long as you want until you want to talk about this again—and if you don't want it to go any further, it doesn't have to. I just...just wanted you to know how I felt, regardless."

You nod. Before you can say anything else, though, Taehyun's phone rings from his back pocket, loudly interrupting the two of you in the otherwise empty parking lot.

He turns slightly to glance down at it, and makes a face when he sees who it's from. "It’s Kai," he says softly. "They must be wondering where I am."

"Go ahead," you say just as quietly, gesturing with your free hand towards his car. "It's okay. I...I need to think, anyway."

Taehyun keeps his gaze on you for a moment, mind clearly racing through a thousand different responses as he sets his mouth in a worried line—but eventually he nods. "Okay," he says, finally letting go of your hand. "I...I'll see you after break, then."

You nod wordlessly.

His words still echo in your mind, even as he gets in his car and offers a small wave your way.

He'd wait for you. It's more than you could ever ask for. At the same time, however, you realize that it's an admission to yourself—admitting that getting over Yeonjun is still going to be a long, difficult path to walk.

And when you're finally left in the parking lot by yourself, you find that you feel more alone than you have in a long, long time.

~~~

The winter holidays go by at a snail's pace. All you want to do is sleep off the fresh heartache your conversation with Taehyun has caused and do practically nothing all break—but you find yourself hilariously bored on your fourth day of doing "nothing."

Your parents are uncharacteristically lenient of your behavior—they used to never let you sleep in this late, especially if you were home from school after not seeing you for so long—but you know they know about you and Yeonjun breaking up. Your mother had been particularly fond of him, too. Maybe that's why she doesn't say a word when you go to bed early every night.

It's ridiculously hard to keep your mind off of Yeonjun over the holidays—couples are everywhere. Nearly every holiday movie seems to revolve around a romance, not to mention all the ones in real life that you can't stop seeing. Your friends post about spending the week with their partner's families, about seeing the other's hometown for the first time, of a surprise and sudden engagement from one of your cousins and their long-time girlfriend—it's enough to make you sick. You know that's a horrible thing to think at such happy occasions for the people you know, but the thought forms itself anyway.

Every time you feel like you've taken a step forward towards healing, towards finally, finally getting over him—you see something that sends you reeling back into that heartache and sorrow, sending you ten steps back from where you'd been. It's a vicious cycle, and as much as you beg for it to end—it doesn't. Not yet.

Because Yeonjun haunts you in your home, too. It's hard to set up decorations with your parents without thinking about how you did this last year with him—how he had held onto your waist as he reached around you into the box of tinsel, how your mother had beamed at him as he'd helped her cook, how angelic he had looked as the two of you walked around your neighborhood looking at the different lights each house had set up. They were such beautiful memories, at the time—had only made you feel more confident and cemented in your relationship with Yeonjun as each one passed. You'd hadn't ever imagined a future without him. And now you can't help but wonder if he had already felt dissatisfied with you in each of those moments.

But as unrelenting as those memories are, so is the passing of time—because you survive the winter holiday season, somehow, even with your shattered heart. Your plan is to move back into school right after the new year, which is how you end up at home on New Year's Eve. Your parents have already gone to their rooms to sleep by the time eleven o'clock strikes on the clock, and as hard as you try, you can't help but think about the fact that this is your first New Year's Eve in years that you'll be alone for.

Or so you think, anyway. The instant you see your phone screen display 12:01 A.M., it buzzes. It's a message from Taehyun.

> happy new year, y/n

The new year.

Everything has hurt so badly for months—like a wound that refuses to form a scab, because you won't let it. You're the one who won't put the bandage over the cut, who keeps digging the blade into the metaphorical wound that was you and Yeonjun every time you think about him.

But what's the alternative? Moving on? Accepting that your relationship with Yeonjun is over? That what had been the happiest years of your life up until now are through? It's unthinkable. It's unfair to that version of you who had loved him with all of your heart to just throw them away—to just lock the door and never look back.

But it's what you have to do, you realize. You won't ever feel any better until you can accept that you and Yeonjun are done, for good—and Taehyun is offering you a way out. This is the ending of what you've known up until now—but a chance to finally, finally start anew. To put the past behind you and try again.

< happy new year, taehyun.

IV. SPRING.

The spring semester hardly gives you a moment to breathe.

You vaguely remember signing up for classes right before fall break—but those weeks were such a blur that you neglected to realize this spring would be your first semester in upper division courses. In other words—you're drowning in schoolwork with scarcely an instant to yourself, let alone to sort out your lingering feelings.

And in the moments that you do have time to breathe, Yeonjun always seems to find a way to sneak to the forefront of your mind. But these recollections aren't always as painful as they were before. In one instance, you feel a wave of relief wash over you—but only for the single instant that it provides you comfort—when you remember turning down Yeonjun's offer to buy each other promise rings before he'd first left for college.

He'd pointed at them in a jewelry store the two of you had wandered into while walking downtown together. "What do you think?" he'd asked, winking.

You'd laughed. "Yeah, right. I hear getting engaged right after high school never ends up going badly for anyone."

But he'd shaken his head immediately. "Not engaged," he'd corrected gently. "They're promise rings. It's a promise to you, from me. And from you to me—that we'll wait for each other, and only each other, until we're both ready. No matter what happens."

Your heart had fluttered at the sudden declaration, cheeks flushing pink before you could stop them—but you had thought even then that it seemed like an awfully rash thing to commit to for a relationship of barely over a year. "That's...unbelievably romantic, Jjun," you'd admitted. "Even for you. Have you done something?" you'd teased, narrowing your eyes at him.

He'd gasped, putting his hands above his head in mock surrender. "I most certainly have not. Can't I just be a hopeless romantic every once in a while?"

You'd pretended to mull it over. "Hmm. Maybe on special occasions. We'll have to see if we can work out a schedule for your hopeless romantic tendencies in the future."

Yeonjun had then made a show of wiping pretend sweat from his brow. "Thank goodness."

You'd giggled, despite yourself. "I'm serious, though. It's a beautiful thought, but...do you think it's something we could come back to? At a later time?"

Ever the gentleman, your Yeonjun had nodded sweetly at you. "Of course," he'd said, taking your hand in his before leading the two of you back out of the store. "We can talk about the future whenever you're ready. I'm just as happy in our present right now, anyway."

That had certainly changed somewhere along the way, you think bitterly to yourself. But pushing past this memory still feels like a small victory, in a way. You hadn't wasted money on committing to a promise that Yeonjun had broken.

There are countless more memories that resurface in this way—but by the time they pass, you no longer taste that metaphorical blood in your mouth anymore at their recollection, no longer feel your heart yearning for them to stay the way you would have a few months ago. They just pass, and you don't think about them again after they go.

Yeonjun only texts you once. You haven't sent him a single message since his Instagram post before fall break—and of course, you imagine he knows why. You may not have expected him to break up with you when he did, but you did know him ridiculously well at one point, seemingly both inside and out—you know that he knows you well enough, too, to understand why you've suddenly gone radio silent. But he does text you once, right as the first week of your semester finishes.

> hey. is everything okay? do you want to talk?

Months ago, you think, you would have leapt at the opportunity—jumped through the screen and across space and time, practically, to have a chance to talk to him for an extended period of time, for a possible chance to win him back. Now you just feel embarrassment towards yourself for ever having felt that way.

You never respond.

Taehyun's presence in your life is different now, too. You still work together, of course, but you have several shared classes again—so you find yourself studying and comparing essays at either his apartment or yours nearly three or four times each week. It's challenging, all of it, but in between, it does make you remember why you became friends with Taehyun in the first place—because he's not like anyone else you've ever known before. Every time you want to throw in the towel on a particularly lengthy assignment, he has some witty comment that gives you just enough energy to keep going. Every time you come by his apartment, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles upon seeing you sends a surge of warmth through you. If you have felt trapped in frigid ice since this breakup, Taehyun has been your sun, ever so gradually melting that ice away whenever you let him.

And you do let him. One night, you're leaving his apartment after exchanging study guides for one of your midterms. You walk by his side, car keys swinging softly in between your fingers.

"How are you feeling?" Taehyun asks right before you open your car door. He doesn't elaborate, but you know what he's talking about.

So you turn to him. "I, um...I don't know if this will get better," you admit quietly. It's a fear you've harbored from the start—that you'll never get over Yeonjun, your first and last—that he will have created your perception of love, molded and shaped it to his design and his alone before shattering it, leaving you to pick up the pieces for the rest of your life.

But Taehyun lets out a scoff at that. "It will. I promise, Y/N. It does get better."

You narrow your eyes at him. "How do you know that? Hmm? Are you some secret fortune teller that I don't know about? Is that how you've been able to afford such a nice apartment here?"

He laughs at you. "No. I'm not a fortune teller. But I know this much—it'll get better. I can't tell you when, because I don't know that. It's something you'll have to figure out, I think. But one day, soon, you'll wake up one morning, and it'll hurt less. And then, a little later, it won't hurt at all. It'll feel like it was a bad dream. You'll get involved in other things, other interests, other people, and then you won't think of this when you wake up in the morning at all."

You nod, slowly. "I want to believe you, Taehyun. I do. I just don't know how long that will take."

But he just shrugs again. Damn him for being so easygoing. "That's okay. You know where I'll be, regardless."

You do know where he'll be—right by your side, just like he's been for the last six months. In truth, you had expected him to fall back on his promise to wait—you would have been sad, sure, but you wouldn't have blamed him. Putting up with you moving on from a relationship over the course of half a year, now, can't have been an easy task. But you've never heard a word of complaint from him. He isn't that kind of person—you know this now. He really will stick by you for as long as you'll allow him to—a kind of affection you haven't felt from anyone in a long, long time.

But right beside you isn't the only place Taehyun seems to be. Your subconscious seems to have taken a liking to him, too—because that night, you see him in your dreams. You'd tossed and turned earlier, unable to fall asleep, throwing the sheets off the bed before you curl up into a ball and squeeze your eyes shut. When you finally find yourself lured back into sleep, you find Taehyun—strong and sweet and caring and beautiful Taehyun. He wraps his arms around you in the dream, hands grabbing hold of your waist before he presses his lips to yours in a heated kiss—as if he never wants to let you go. As if there isn't anyone else in the world that matters except for the two of you.

You wake up in the morning and weep.

Later in the day, you find tears brimming at the corners of your eyes again when you finally find the courage to delete the photo album on your phone of you and Yeonjun—but they never fall past your lashes, even when you hit the red delete button.

Perhaps you've run out of tears for him, because none fall when you package away everything else of his in your apartment—every framed photo of the two of you, every stuffed animal he'd bought, every hoodie of his you'd once promised to give back all fit neatly in a single cardboard box, sealed and never to be seen again.

Without the remnants of Yeonjun scattered throughout your apartment, you find yourself thinking of him less with each day that passes. The ghost who had once haunted every fiber of your being now seems like little more than a bad dream you've suddenly woken up from. This realization hurts you, just like the ones before it—but the hurt doesn't linger. It, too, grows faint before long, dissipated and fading away just like the rest of your relationship.

The end of the semester doesn't sneak up on you this spring. You have a lengthy presentation for your hardest class, an argumentative speech that you've practically spent all semester preparing for. You and Taehyun practice for each other for weeks beforehand, critiquing and encouraging and teasing each other the whole way through—but it's still over before you know it.

The morning after your final presentation, you don't wake up until the sun has risen high in the sky, peeking through the blinds over your window and finally raising you from sleep. You stretch as you walk over to the window, opening the blinds and peering out into the street below you. There's a couple walking on the sidewalk—and you recognize the girl as a regular from the library, the one with strawberry-colored hair whom Kai had been practically obsessed with back in the fall.

She tugs at the sleeve of the man walking beside her, pulling him into a sudden kiss, and you instantly turn away from the window, giving them a moment of privacy despite their actions being in public anyway.

Well—she obviously hadn't known about Kai's existence, but she'd still clearly been able to find some kind of happiness. The thought soothes you, in a way, and you think about how the scene below you would have made you feel six months ago. You would've been jealous, probably, and upset that you'd never experience anything like that again—but now the only thing it fills you with is longing. It makes you happy to see others experience something that you know feels like a gift. You want to experience that again too, you realize.

The instant that thought forms in your head, another memory materializes.

That's okay. You know where I'll be, regardless.

You feel your heart soar at the recollection.

Yes, Taehyun. I do.

V. SUMMER.

Taehyun texts you the very first day summer break begins.

> how'd your last final go?

> omg i meant to tell you after work yesterday but kai's parents said he could stay in the beach house this weekend

> like a very early birthday thing i think lol. it'll be a few ppl but you're more than welcome to come tomorrow if you haven't gone back home yet

The invite sends a flurry of both excitement and nervousness through you. You haven't gone back home yet—your parents aren't coming until early next week to help you move out for the summer, not to mention the fact that you haven't see Taehyun or any of your other coworkers since the end of finals week. Excited doesn't even begin to cover it, you think.

< i'll be there!

Kai, thankfully, is a relatively easy person to shop for—you have no trouble at all picking up a wristwatch you remember him talking about a few times at work. And in truth, his birthday isn't for another two months, but you imagine he needed some excuse to convince his parents to let him throw an end-of-the-school-year party—so you don't mind the expense at all.

Kai is overjoyed to see you when you arrive at the beach house, thanks to Taehyun sending you the address, and even more so when he sees the gift bag in your hands.

"You did not have to get me anything!" he exclaims, pouting, but you still see that glint of anticipation in his eyes despite his words.

You beam at him, throwing your arms around him in a quick hug. You've missed this—being with your friends and not feeling like you were putting them through hell with you. Seeing them happy with you feels right in a way that nothing else has in months. "Happy birthday, Kai," you say, pulling back so he can tear into his present (which he does almost immediately).

Taehyun is waving at you from the shallow end of the pool. "Did you bring a swimsuit?" you hear him call over Kai's shouts of excitement.

You nod, biting back a grin as you pull your shirt over your head and tug your shorts off as quickly as possible, revealing the bathing suit that you'd worn on your way over underneath. You immediately run to jump in the deep end, splashing both Taehyun and Beomgyu, if the yells and laughs you hear when you resurface are any indicator.

Beomgyu makes some excuse about needing to find the birthday cake, hauling himself up and out from the side of the pool when you start to swim over towards Taehyun.

He doesn't budge, grinning at you as you make your way towards the shallow end. "Nice of you to make an appearance," he says, winking.

"Well, I had to let you know I was here somehow, you know," you reply instantly, grinning right back.

Taehyun's smirk widens. "Of course. And I'm glad you're here, Y/N. How'd you end up doing for your finals?"

You shrug. "A’s and B’s. I'm still pretty satisfied with how that presentation for Dr. Lee went, though—how about you?"

He pushes your shoulder playfully. "Look at you! I told you you'd kill that speech. I knew you could do it."

You feel the ghost of his hand on your skin even after it's gone, shivers rippling down your spine at the thought—and that does it. You can't keep up the small talk any longer. "I have something for you," you announce, as stone-faced as you can manage. "Close your eyes."

Something flickers in his eyes—surprise? delight, even?—but it's gone just as soon as you notice it. "For me?" He laughs. "But it's Kai's birthday party."

You nod. "I know," you say. "I already gave him his present. You get one too."

Taehyun's eyes narrow. "Am I getting the same thing as Kai?"

You can't bite back the grin that tugs at your lips. "Not even close."

He seems satisfied with that, finally, so he closes his eyes. You know you'll only get one chance to do this, to do it right with the element of surprise—so you lean in as quickly as you can, before the logical side of your brain can catch up with the rest of you, and press your lips to the side of his cheek.

Taehyun looks at you, eyes wide open with surprise, until—"You missed."

You frown. "I what?"

He nods, as if that should have been obvious. "Mmm-hmm. You missed." There's only a split second for you to realize what he means before he's taken hold of your chin with two of his fingers and brought your lips to his. He's kissing you.

Taehyun is kissing you.

There are no fireworks or cannons shooting above your head, no angel floating down from the heavens to confirm that this moment has been the peak of your entire life—but kissing Taehyun is soft. Gentle. It's all the comfort he always makes you feel, has always made you feel—nothing feels more right than being pressed up against him here, with one hand cradling your chin and one settled securely on your hip as his lips move against yours.

There still aren't fireworks or cannons shooting off behind you—but what you do hear are loud whoops and cheers from your coworkers (and maybe a few fake retching noises). Taehyun pulls back a little once he hears those, dark eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort—but there are none. Instead, you laugh, and Taehyun does too, breath skating across your jaw as you feel more right than you have in an achingly long time. When he presses his lips to yours again, still smiling against the kiss, you feel that sensation of right, of warmth, of comfort practically coursing through your veins as you slide your arms around his neck. This, right here, is where you're supposed to be.

“You waited,” you manage to breathe out in between kisses, holding tighter to Taehyun’s shoulders above the water to steady yourself.

He smiles at you, beaming brighter and warmer than the summer sun above the two of you. “Yes, Y/N,” he whispers softly, moving his hand to cup your cheek in his palm. “And I’d do it again if it meant we would still end up right here.”

It's not the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another—life is hardly ever that smooth. It just is.

You don't know the kind of partner Taehyun is yet. You don't know that he'll almost always keep a hand on your thigh when you sit together, that he'll write a list in the notes app of his phone of your orders at each of your favorite restaurants, that he'll love to take candid photos of you to show you later, that one day the two of you will be in a very similar position to the way you are now while a small black box holds a hefty weight in his back pocket—but you don't have to know any of that yet.

You're here with Taehyun, now, your arms around him as his wrap around you, and that's what matters. The rest you can figure out together.

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