#ive known something was up with my heart since high school and this is the first doctor who has takent the time to figure it out

[campirebites]

hi besties i just got back from the cardiologist and the good news is that i got answers and im not dying but the bad news is i have mitral valve prolapse and i am relieved and also still scared because it is a valve disease in my heart and it causes a bit of mitral regurgitation which is scary and i am being so brave about it

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Black Metal and Bourbon (III)

AU MASTERLIST || THE FINAL PART

PAIRING: Biker/Mechanic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Bartender!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 7.9k

WARNINGS: Depictions of injuries, blood, gore, abductions, death, talks about bike crashes, violence, guns, intended harm, past toxic relationship, murder, protective!Simon, suggestive content, (1) dirty joke, etc. (18+ mini-series)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You remember the long nights when you would sit in the empty bar and wonder why you’d never left. Why you couldn’t up and disappear like you wanted to—a bird taking flight and choosing any direction at all to travel, just as long as you didn’t stay on this branch. It wouldn’t have been hard. There wasn’t anything here that mattered to you. 

This invisible string was holding you back, waiting; tying you to something that you would never understand for as long as you lived. You had dreams and aspirations. 

So why hadn’t you grabbed them by the throat and dragged them along with you?

Maybe there were larger powers in that old town, a mischievous spirit that played a game of chess with the lives of its inhabitants. It certainly felt like it.

Especially when you’re flying through the air, the rain falling in slow motion as hands slash past wind to grab at your body. You recall flashes of that day. Snippets. 

Even now, you feel like you see it in the third person, your form getting tossed by the momentum of the flipping motorcycle and cutting the storm—Simon’s hands reaching out and grasping you. He had dragged you into his chest, his back taking the force of the ground as you slid along the wet streets, pained grunts echoing into your soul as your panic resulted in a shocked muteness. His hands had been gripping you so tight that veins had burst, the view of the sky above you as your back conformed to his chest. 

And then you’d both tumbled, rolled over and over as the screech of metal grated your ringing eardrums and pain flared like fire. Your head slammed into the front of the helmet with a smack, and nothing else is recalled. 

Until now, of course. 

You try to move your fingers, the tight hold of a cast over the entirety of your left forearm—the action brings a wave of weakness with it, making you grit your teeth. You’d woken up in the hospital with black dots in your vision, your body so unresponsive your mind had panicked thinking you wouldn’t be able to move at all. 

And Simon? 

Where was Simon? You’d been so loud with your hoarse calling that the nurses had rushed in and had to put you back under, letting you drift and brushing their hands over your head as you babbled on failing breath. Never once had your brain left you void of the mechanic’s brown eyes—his hands grabbing you, keeping you safe at the risk of his own flesh. 

He hadn’t been wearing a helmet.

But now…now you were fully conscious. 

“Where is he?” Your face is perhaps one of the few parts of you that was unscathed. Your legs were skinned—wrapped so tightly you couldn’t move them. While Simon’s leather jacket had saved your arms, they were still battered and bulging with blisters as big as your hand. Your forearm was broken.

The nurse shushed you, and your voice snapped. “Loralie, I’ve known you since middle school,” she pauses, lips thinning as she messes with your IV drip. “You’re going to tell me where the hell he is, or I’m going to scream that you made Braylan Holt forge your high school diploma.”

Sizzling eyes meet yours, but not even that will deter you—your heart is heard, rapid on the screen to your left.

“You’re a damn horror, Bartender.”

“You’re acting like I give a shit,” you growl and the nurse slightly moves back, never hearing that venom from you before to such a degree. “Where the fuck is Simon before I get up myself.”

It’s like a dog with fear aggression—you can’t comprehend the man you’d formed such a bond with hurt, much less here in this hospital with you and…and…

Your heart rate increases even more. 

He wasn’t wearing a helmet.

“That’s not gonna happen, Sweetheart,” Loralie grits out. “You won’t be walkin’ for another week, at least. Not with all that damage—your legs were so bloody the EMTs couldn’t tell where the hell the blood was even comin’ from.”

Your working hand curls into a tight fist, teeth snapping together as you restrain a flinch. You don’t want to think about that right now. 

“Simon,” you grunt, shaking. 

The woman stares for a moment before sighing. 

“You’re something strange, Girl. How the hell you managed to be stuck here is some mystery I can’t fathom. Fine,” she glares before a fast whisper. “But you best forget about that stint with Holt, alright? You never mention that again—”

“Already forgotten,” you grind out, impatient. Even the muddled agony from under the sheen of the pain meds couldn’t stop you. “Speak.”

“The man’s in rough shape. Hasn’t woken up yet.” Your jaw clenches tight, blood pumping like a river. A finger is leveled at you, moving in an accusing motion. “He’s lucky he didn’t die, by all accounts the shape he was in he should have. Had to go into surgery to get the bike shrapnel out of his legs.”

“Surgery?” Your eyes go wide, your voice frantic. “W-what about his head—did he hit it, or…or is he—”

“His brain waves are active.” The nurse tidies the blankets at the end of your bed. “Can’t say that about his body.” 

Your throat sinches violently, and you have to look away to hide your tears. Moments later, the woman lets out an aggressive sigh, her hands moving to cross over her chest. 

“That man must fucking love you,” you blank, blinking quickly as you sniffle and try to shift your expression back to fake anger.

“What…?” You ask, your tone defeated.

Loralie stares, her eyes moving to the IV only to waft back when she can gather her thoughts. 

“If he hadn’t grabbed you, you would have gone right off the edge of the road into the rocks.” In the bed, your body goes as still as possible, your ears twitching at the confession. “In the middle of getting road-burned to all hell, he still grabbed you. If you would have gone over, we’d only be having one of our intensive care rooms filled up…you hear?”

You can’t say anything, only watch as the nurse finishes up her work and exits with one last look of exasperation. 

Alone, your brain finally tries to comprehend what you’d just been told. 

“...Simon,” you whisper to dead air long minutes later, the machines all around you beeping. 

The tears come easily.

—

When your legs finally started working again, it didn’t bring you any comfort. Only Simon could do that, and seeing the looks from the other staff, they knew it as well. You couldn’t keep your full weight on your limbs, only bend the toes and knees in small intervals. 

The doctor said it was a fantastic start, but you felt helpless. 

You wanted to see him, yet first came the interview with the Sheriff to explain what had happened. After the details started coming back, a larger picture was formed, and when you had been able to get ahold of a phone—your own shattered and little more than a box—you’d heard a case had already been opened. 

Simon’s bike had been tampered with. 

After you’d given your statement, you had been surprised to find three mechanics at your door, walking in quickly and throwing over concerned looks at your busted forearm and hidden legs. 

“Christ,” Soap says, a flash of anger crossing like lightning over his eyes. “You don’t hurt much, do you?”

“No,” you lie easily. “Could be worse,” your words were whispered. 

John sends you an indiserable look as Gaz sips off his hat and keeps it in his grip as he frowns. 

“We’re happy you’re alright, Love. Scared us half to death when we heard the news—thought the worst,” Kyle commented, the Brit’s hand running over his neck slowly. 

They could all tell that you weren’t in the right mindset. 

“He’s alive,” you look over to Price sharply. Those blue eyes don’t waver. “That’s all that matters. He’s alive.”

“Aye,” Johnny agrees, nodding his head and crossing his arms. A stubborn expression was on his face. “Never known someone like Simon. The man’ll push through without a doubt—just needs time to rest up.”

“I shouldn’t have agreed to go out,” you mutter, rubbing at your cheek, thinking about a man with a mangled body and skinned bones. Jesus, he needed to be alright. He had to be. 

“No one could have thought that would happen,” Kyle comes over and puts a firm hand on your shoulder. “Hey, c’mon,” you look at him with a guilty face; fear under your tiny pupils. The man smiles, but it’s shaky at best. “We all know who to blame for this, yeah? Don’t go taking that from the person who needs to carry it.”

“We’ve been keeping up with it,” Soap adds, frowning. “Still no trace.”

“They haven't found him yet?” Your brows turn in with concern, a sudden paranoia entering your head—if they hadn’t found Graham, what’s to stop him from doing something like this again? Hell, if he was unhinged enough to commit attempted murder, what was stopping him from pushing those boundaries now that he’s already gone through with the former?  

“We’re not going anywhere,” John seems to sense this. You look at him quickly. The man grunts, lips moving as he speaks. “Not until he’s found.”

A piece of your heart eases at that, thankfulness flooding your veins.

“...Do,” your voice pauses, and you swallow down saliva slowly before you continue. “Do you know when they’ll let me see him?”

Soap and Gaz share a glance, the Scot going to ease into the chair on the other side of the room with a low sigh. 

“They’re not letting anyone in,” Kyle utters. “Not until his condition improves a bit. We tried.” 

“Two weeks,” John nods to you. “They’re only giving estimates.” 

Fingers twitching, you look down at your lap, the hospital bed hard under you. The words come out, and you find they’re met with a hard certainty from the men around you.

“What if they don’t find Graham?”

“...Then we will.”

—

The mechanics had all looked over their bikes for any tampering and had found none when they reported back to you—the bolts had been loosened only on Simon’s. Soap was the one who had mentioned that you might have never been the target at all, and that Graham had been a spiteful man who just wanted to make a point about his past relationships’ new attraction. The thought didn’t settle you.

All of them were undeniably worried about their friend.

You’d tried to get what you could out of the other nurses—any signs of waking or getting better, but there were only stiff looks as if it was taboo to talk about him. Like an inside joke with the devil. 

The staff had finally said they would tell you themselves if there was any change in Simon’s health. It didn’t stop you from asking, though. It currently didn’t stop you from sneaking out in the middle of the night after visiting hours, either. 

Your legs were still weak, sometimes going numb entirely as you dragged them over the floor. Inside your eyes, black dots swirled as you effectively dodged the front desk by taking the far back hallway; the lights above your head were too bright and too loud. 

Your arm burned something awful.

Eyes blinking rapidly, you pant as you go from room to room, not stopping even to breathe before room fourteen makes your soul pull in on itself like a crow holding a bell. The bit of metal jingles, attached to a red string that flutters in the wind—reaching back to the wreath it was stolen from. 

Not understanding the instinctual feeling, you grasp the handle and push open the door with more force than you’re able to push out of you; your working arm quivering violently. 

But the sight behind the door is something you would cross mountains for. 

Simon lies still on the bed, attached to so many machines he seems more like a cyborg than a man. Over his face, an oxygen mask takes the place of a balaclava, and the right side of flesh is patched with so many bandages the bulk makes your stomach drop. 

“Simon,” you whisper, stuttering as your blood falls internally to pool at your feet. 

Walking over as quickly as you’re able, you pause at the side of his bed, nearly falling over as your knees buckle. You lean your weight on the frame and take a deep breath. 

This man saved your life. 

You look at him, unable to say anything—unable to utter a sarcastic quip. Your hand stutters in its course through the sterile air, but at the very end of it, your skin settles over Simon’s hand; the limb on his chest. 

“Simon,” you say again, licking your lips, fingers squeezing his tattoos as if to bring the images to life. “Can you hear me, Brown-Eyes?” 

You needed him to wake up—needed to speak to him, see that October gaze lock so numbly with yours. Dead eyes had never meant so much to you than when the man that wore them wasn’t blinking so softly. Where had he gone?

“Simon,” you plead, getting choked up when nothing happens beyond the flicking of the light on the ceiling. The beeping of his pulse didn’t change, not even when you intertwined your fingers together to lock them like a knot—a promise. “I need you to be okay,” your voice stutters. 

“We have to get through this together…I…” Tears splatter his tattoos, his lovely, beautiful, tattoos, you hiccup. “We need each other.”

Maybe it was cliche, two people who relied on one another in a town of nobodies, but it didn’t make it untrue. And maybe it was a partial lie—after all, you didn’t know what Simon thought of you exactly, but the way he looked at you, how he cast his shadow above yours, was a well enough guess in the right direction. But you needed to say it, and your heart ached to see him like this.

Simon doesn’t move, his hand is cold and his lashes stuck to his cheeks.

“Simon,” you hiss, sniffling. 

The hours pass, and you stay there for as long as you’re able before your body is about to give out on you. You reluctantly kiss his forehead and leave with a crushing weight on your shoulders, so much so that the flashes of broken metal and rain don’t even bother you at this point.

A rage grows in your breast.

But when you sneak back to your room, you don’t go to bed. You can’t. The smell in the space is something that leaves your eyes stuck wide until your legs actually do buckle. Your eyes stare at the far wall blankly.

Cigarette smoke lingers in the air.

—

“He woke up last night.” Your blank eyes stare, expression stuck firm. Loralie gives you your lunch, setting it down on the bed tray. “Around three. Said your name and then passed out again.” 

“Why didn’t you get me?” You’re already pushing off the bed, your lips letting loose a grunt. The boys had to be at work today—a Thursday—so that left you alone and bored until they took a break and walked over to keep an eye on things. 

Wincing when your feet touch down, you’re quickly, and very easily, pushed back into bed with a scoff. 

“Loralie,” you growl, venom in your throat like a rampaging bull. 

“Sit down and let me finish.” The both of you glare before she rolls her eyes and points to the food. “Acting like a damn teenager. Eat.” She doesn’t start until you pick up the fork just to shove a single piece of the lunch into your mouth to spite her, slowly chewing it with a scowl. Loralie rubs at her temple. “He’s getting better, but it’s still a long road. Activity’s peaking every now and again—fingers been twitching, too. Some of the bandages have been able to come off.”

“Thank the fucking lord,” you breathe, running both hands over your face as you sigh out slowly. “Any estimate on when he might fully wake up.”

“God knows,” the nurse huffs. “He had brain bleed. Man was all kinds of messed-up.”

Your chest tightens, but you say nothing. You’d suddenly lost your appetite. 

As the afternoon rolls around, you take down your pain medicine and fight the blurriness of your eyes. Healing was a very long and very tiring process—it seemed like no matter how much sleep you got you still woke up tired. And you suppose that was why you fell into an uncomfortable nap and woke up to the window still open, the moonlight rays like sheer fabric cascading down to the tile floors. 

Groaning, your head lifts from the pillow; your first thoughts are always of Simon and how he’s doing. It was time to see him again. 

Your TV-static mind reruns how he looks over and over again—the bloody bandages, the wrappings around his face. Even the machines now seemed to sneer at you as your guilt grew harder to ignore. He’d saved you at the cost of himself…without even hesitating. 

Why would he do that?

“You really had to go and make me love you, huh?” You ask into the cold air, a breeze shifting through as you slowly sit up on one arm. “Simon, if I’d known you would have gone and done this, I would have never looked at that sold sign. At least then you’d be okay.”

“You love him?” Your body twists up, large patches of gauze pulling at dried blood and mixed plasma as your body keeps itself upright. The shadow in the corner of the room moves as your fatigued brain wakes itself back up in no time at all. 

Graham. 

Eyes stuck to the far corner, the phantom of your Ex stands tall—his eyes beady. Your entire being freezes as your lips part in horror, yet, you can’t make a sound. 

He’s disheveled looking, but those eyes of his have never been more rageful. Like walking through the hospital and coming face-to-face with a grizzly bear of all things. It’s strange, but your thoughts immediately go to Simon as he steps forward, sneering at you. 

“The first man that comes into town and you love him? I didn’t think you were so easy, but I guess I was wrong.”

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is hushed, panicked—adrenaline spikes in your veins. 

If you screamed, who’s to say he wouldn’t just pounce on you? 

Graham runs a hand over his hair, his scent taking up your nostrils until you feel the need to nearly gag at ash and tobacco. “I needed to see you—explain,” he stutters, emotions swiftly flicking from anger to fake remorse. 

Your hand slowly inches to the nurse-call button attached to the wall near the bed, the cord leaking out like a snake as your fingertip catches against it. 

“You weren’t supposed to be on that bike, okay? Celina fucking messed it up—she was supposed to keep you workin’ until he went out on his own.” He’s coming closer, and you push back up the mattress in distress. 

He doesn’t stop.

“What the fuck, Graham,” your voice rises slightly, cracking in the middle. 

The man growls. “It wasn’t my fault! J-just forget about it, okay? You’re fine now, it all worked out.”

“You tried to kill us!” You shout, and Graham’s instant hiss makes you flinch back and scamper as you slam the wall behind you. 

“Don’t do that,” he snaps. “Do not…do that. Keep your damn voice down!” 

“And if I scream?” You tilt your head, shaking violently. “What then, huh? You lousy son of a bitch.” 

“You’re lucky I don’t pay that Simon of yours a visit, yeah?” Your lungs tighten, a wheezing inhale stuck in your throat. 

“You wouldn’t, Graham,” you whisper hastily. “Not with all of this shit you’ve gotten yourself into—turn yourself in and fix this.” 

The man spays his hands and your hand shifts to the bulk of the nurse’s button, running over the top until you find the correct one to press. 

It moves in with a slight pop of plastic, the darkness of the room giving you extra coverage as you slowly drop it back down. 

“It’s too late for that.” Graham shakes his head, and his stench overtakes you as you gag lightly, casted hand coming up to hide your nose. He pauses near the side of the bed, and you push to the opposite side and hear your feet slap the ground. The size of your makeshift barrier doesn’t fill you with confidence. “You need to come with me.”

“What,” you laugh in exasperation; fear coating the hoarse noise. “No! Leave!”

It was obvious that your usual sarcastic tone had slipped to a fearful one, your heart making your voice palpitate with every thump of the veins in your neck. 

The door opens and Graham’s hand darts to the back of his pants. 

Loralie’s body comes into view. “What’s happened now—”

A great ear-shattering boom leaves you screaming as blood splatters into the air.

—

Simon woke up to the world spinning. 

He grunts heavily, the oxygen mask over his face tight before he can slap a weak hand to the plastic and pull it back. The man coughs, spine curling before a bone-deep pain makes him stop with a firm inhale. 

Blinking sluggishly, he grinds his teeth together and lets the mask slip to his cheek. Movement at his slide makes Simon pause—trying to gather his bearings.

What was going on?

“Simon, easy with it.” Scottish. Johnny. “Christ…how am I going to explain this?” More shuffling and fast feet over to the side of the bed. 

“Johnny,” Simon grunts, vocal cords tight. He needed water. 

“One second, just wait. Let me…” A pause before a sloshing of water. Above the man in the bed, the ceiling moves and swirls—dancing. Simon remembers water…the bike…

“Can you hold it, then?” He doesn’t answer the Scot, instead slapping out a hand to curl the body of the glass, bringing it to his lips and downing the liquid as it slips from the side and dribbles down the side of his face. 

Johnny grumbles, “Alright.”

You. 

Simon choked on the drink, moving it back before his arms slammed to the bed, the glass bouncing off and shattering against the floor. 

“Fucking hell!” Johnny shouts, rushing forward to put a stiff hand on Simon’s chest, trying to push him back down and avoid the glass that now litters the tile. “Stop it, you’ll destroy all the damn work they did, ya idiot!”

“Where is she?” Simon garbles out, glaring forward even as his body screams and peels back healed flesh. 

“Stay the fuck down and I will!” Blue eyes sear downward, meeting brown as they battle for a moment. 

Simon clenches his hands, but compiles, top half moving back to collapse to the pillows once more. Not once do his eyes stray from the Scot, ordering him mutely to continue as his heart pounds in his breast. He remembers grabbing you and then nothing else—the scream of sirens in his ears like a distant call from a dream. But his body ached far too much for this to be a dream. 

“Where,” Simon forces out through his accent, throat like gravel. His chest was filled with dread at the nervous sheen over Johnny’s face.

“Ah…” The Scot begins. “She’s fine, Simon. She’s alive.”

That didn’t give him any reassurance. 

Simon hisses, quickly trying to get back up again and succeeding in straining his body enough to sit halfway upward. All of the wires and cords attached to him rip and pop off, frantic beeping emanating from the room. 

“Take me to ‘er. Now.”

“I can’t do that!” Johnny hisses, hands out and failing to keep him stationary. “Would you just calm down?” 

The man doesn’t answer, not until the nurses rush into the room due to the noise and tell him false words to try and get him to lay back down. Simon knew something was wrong—instincts going haywire. 

Were you…dead? No, you couldn’t be. That wouldn't be possible. Johnny knew better than to lie to him. 

“Johnny!” Simon shouts as loud as he’s able; raw authority in his mouth. Even the nurses freeze at that. 

The mohawked man’s twisted face is wracked with guilt, and there calls to the fact that Gaz and Price are nowhere to be seen. 

Simon says it slowly, wounds bleeding and his face opening the long scrapes of road-burn on his left side. It burns like a fire—itching like no other. But it’s secondary to the pure adrenaline keeping him awake. 

“Where.”

Even Johnny can’t fight that tone. 

“Graham has ‘er.”

—

This was a hunting shed, you knew. One out in the middle of the trees—about three miles from town with its rot-infected walls and a chipping wood fireplace. The floor is nearly covered in cigarette butts. 

You stay stuck in the far corner—hands and feet zip-tied together. Your head had been covered by a bag that you had grabbed and ripped off when the world stopped jostling from the trunk of a car. From then, you had been dragged at gunpoint through the hell portal of the front door. 

Graham is watching from the single chair across the room, itching at his scalp with the barrel of a .44 Magnum and using his other hand to rub along his thigh. 

“Shit,” he mutters as you watch, silent and as still as a stake in the ground. “Shit, shit, shit.” Loralie’s blood is still splattered along your face. 

He’d shot her through the stomach. You’d seen her body drop: dead in an instant.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Graham stands suddenly, and your body recoils with a slam of your shoulder into the wall. The frame shakes. The man quivers as he glares at you. “It wasn’t my fault she came in through the fucking door!” 

You only nod tinily in frantic agreement, looking around the room in search of anything that might help you. But there’s only so much you can do against a man holding a gun—a man who finds himself wanted for a slough of crimes which now just got incredibly long.

You had heard the sirens bouncing over the hills hours prior, but no one knew you were out here unless they happened to be the best-trained tracker of all time.

It should be morning now, but the threat of rain outside obscures the tiny slivers of light that try to pierce the leaves of the forest. 

“Fuck!” Graham screams, foot kicking out to connect with the chair and sending it flying backward before it splinters and clatters—all termite-eaten legs and cracked seat. 

Your mouth releases a squeak, panting breath a sharp gasp. 

You needed to figure something out. Quickly. 

The single window is smashed in, glass sprinkling the ground in large shards, and you don’t care if it’s the result of some teenagers smashing property or anything else for that matter—you had to snap these bonds. 

It wasn’t like the termites could help. 

“Graham.” You’d never call yourself stupid, and heaven help anyone else who tried to. You didn’t work at a bar without learning more and more about the human psyche than all the years in school and adult life combined. Everyone had games they played inside of their head, a series of tic-tac-toe boards or grandiose plots of fanatical sagas; it just so happened that Graham fashioned himself the hero of every single one of them. Every line was his chicken scratch signature. 

“Graham,” you raise your voice and say again, forcing past the quiver in your tone to a lake’s calm waters.

The man’s panicking—restless as he paces the front door, guarding it from you. It wasn’t too far-fetched to believe he could kill you now to put an end to this shit-show. He’d always taken the easy way out, after all. 

But his eyes snap to yours regardless, and you have to not scream at him as he does. 

“What?” He hisses, motioning to you with the gun with a limp arm. “You wanna weigh in, then? I did this for you and you went and ruined it!” 

“I know I did, baby,” you breathe, alarm bells blaring. “I’m sorry—I just wasn’t thinking. I wanted you to fight for me.”

Your throat simmers with bile.

What were you saying? You had no idea, but it played into Graham’s weaknesses. Maybe Simon had rubbed his casual strength over to subjugate your brash sarcasm and brutish aggression. 

Simon.

God, thinking about him made you want to cry. 

“What are you talkin’ about?” Graham intently listens, the gun shaking. “Don’t….Don’t fucking play with me right now,” he warns, growling. 

“I’m not playing,” you raise your hands up, the cast protecting one wrist, but the other had the harsh plastic suffocating your veins like it was a supple neck under a cougar’s jaw. “I’m not. I got with Simon because I wanted to make you jealous—at that party?” You suck down a fast breath. “I wanted you to swing on him, yeah? I know you could have made an example out of him.”

“Course I would have,” Graham mutters, pushing his hand up over his face to clear it of the sweat and crimson droplets. “Lousy no good mechanic with a shitty bike.” 

“Graham, can you cut off the zip-ties, please?” He laughs and shakes his head immediately.

“I’m not that stupid there, Sweetness.” Your jaw clenches, anger spiking. 

“I never said that you were,” you snapped desperately, hospital gown all dirty and your bandages hanging off of you like you were a mummy trapped in a tomb. It didn’t sound that far out of place. “You’re hurting me.”

The floors creak as you shuffle, moving your body forward trying to stand on bound ankles. It doesn’t work. Your ears twitch above the rumble from the clouds far above, past the hole-filled roof, to the sound of an exasperated scoff. 

“You’ll live. Now be quiet and let me think—you’ve made a mess of everything.” Adrenaline gives everyone a high like no other. It happens fast and can start up from the adrenal glands in mere moments when under stress or danger; when it leaves, it can result in lightheadedness, and trembling. Go long enough to where you can get it out of you entirely, it can even lead to tiredness. 

Three hours pass, and it’s storming outside as Graham is sleeping near the door. Curled like a wolf, the silver glint of the magnum is still clutched in his hand, fingers loose like worms as his face twitches. You had waited the past hour to see if he would wake up. 

Now it was time to act.

As you slowly hobble to your elbows and knees, dragging yourself along the cigarette-coated floor, you collect dust like the knick-knacks in your home. Taking small and quick breaths, your eyes lock with a sharp piece of glass as your agonizing injuries pull and break open. Blood is so heavy in the air that it’s able to be tasted on your tongue—coated so thick even the deluge of rain can’t get rid of the stain. 

Graham mutters in his sleep, and your heart beats far into your mouth; body locking up as your gaze flashes over to the twitching shadow. Lightning flashes outside as you slowly start back up again—one eye always to the side and the pupils smaller than a spec of dirt. 

You lick your lips, creeping onward until you can reach out your fingers and slice them on the side of the glass. Your lips hold tight a whine of pain, hand clenched over the material as you twist it around and line the edge up with the zip-tie. 

Your breath is all you can hear—loud inside of your head before the sawing motion makes the cuts over your hands grow deeper the more you press into the plastic. Welts had burst by now, puss seeping to the ground as the zip-tie around your wrists popped with a snap of hard material. 

A yell of achievement is kept inside of your sputtering chest as you shove your leaking palms to the wood, rolling to your back and bending your knees to bring your ankles upward. 

The second tie snaps just like the last, and your limbs roll themselves in circles to get the circulation back as quickly as possible, gaze jerking back and forth to Graham as your pulse roars. 

Run. Run. Run. 

Every rush of your blood sings the same order. 

Lose him in the storm. 

Your legs wobble as you shove yourself up, the glass still held in your hand—an infectious thought entering your body as you stare at the magnum. Stumbling, your bare feet steady themselves as your shoulder knocks the back wall, face contorted inwards. 

How hard would it be to steal it? He was sleeping. 

Blinking away the black fireworks in your vision, you look from the broken window to the door, remembering the bike crash as the rain seeps in from the roof. Water splashes as the minutes spread like crimson pools. 

Graham’s troubled face shifts as he groans, and you’re already out of the window with a slide of glass and a slap of wet grass. 

You’re running through the forest as if a deer, crashing through undergrowth and slipping down ravines. The gown and the trailing bandages have long been soaked, heavy in their own right—a second skin hanging off as your blood gets washed away by the rain. You don’t know when you started crying, but the sky’s tears bled with your own exceptionally well. 

There were multiple times when you swore there were footsteps behind you—right on your tail as your blurry vision finds phantoms in the bushes and the leaves as they fly up behind you at a kick of your mud-covered feet. 

You didn’t have a destination, and as far as you cared, you could die in these woods happily as long as Graham never had the chance to make a decision. In the end, his own ability to fuck himself over never had the chance to change—thank God.

A hand slams on your shoulder. 

Half a scream is stifled, as another is leveled to your mouth—your body is yanked to the side. Dragged behind the bark of a tree, lightning flares overhead as if as shocked as you were, arms and legs kicking out. 

There’s a stiff grunt, and large biceps that curl your waist. Words are about to be uttered into your ear canal before your teeth chomp down on the thick material of padded gloves, eyes wide with blurry panic. 

“Sunshine!” You don’t listen over your muffled curses, nails clawing into a forearm as your casted limb aches. 

Whirled around, your spine finds a trunk, and you snarl before, once more, “Bloody hell, Sunshine, it’s me!” 

Finally able to see who was keeping you hostage, your struggling halts with a knee halfway up and ready to send full force into a crotch. You blink multiple times, panting into the palm before the hand drops entirely and you can take down fragmented breaths.

A skeleton-painted balaclava is only a glimpse before those October eyes suck you in. 

Simon and you stare at one another as the storm rages on.

He was in all black—straps and holsters clipped onto his thighs and chest above a combat vest that you’d seen in military documentaries on TV; a compression shirt under a water-resistant covering rolled up to his elbows. And guns.

Guns at his thighs, a rifle at his chest, a knife at his belt. 

Simon Riley was dressed for war. 

You stutter, eyes beady as you open and close your mouth. 

Wasn’t he supposed to be in the hospital? How did he find you?

“How…” You blink as the man’s concerned eyes scan you over, rage shimmering in his expression as water saturates his mask. His gloved hands settle at your shoulders and squeeze before they move once more. “How did you…?”

“Let me look,” he mutters, touching your wrist and bringing it up. Your mouth shuts tight, flinching. Simon halts and quickly glances back up with a simmering gaze. He doesn’t move, and when he blinks, whatever anger that was mounting is re-hidden back behind the void of his irises. You stare as his browns melt. 

“Can I touch you, Love?” Water slaps your head but the barrier of trees helps slightly. The question was one of the most important he could have asked. 

You nod, but he still waits. 

“Yes,” your voice pushes out. Simon’s large hand recaptures your flesh like a precious object, twisting it around. 

He tenses at the blood, and, just like the realization outside of the vandalized shop, he tells you quietly, “You’re shaking.”

“Simon,” your lips wobble, sniffling. 

Your body is shielded in an instant. 

“It’s alright.” He breathes into your scalp—you feel his pulse, his hard surety; this wasn’t a hold that was quick to leave. “I’m ‘ere, I’ve got you. We’ll be alright. Focus on me, Sunshine. Focus.” 

It wasn’t soon after that those arms separated for a moment, the velcro of a vest in your ears before a rain jacket is carefully, yet quickly, pulled through your arms and zipped up. The rifle is leaning against a rock as the hood is pulled to protect your visage from the downpour. But the rain is the last thing on your mind. 

Screaming echoes out over the night and you gasp, head jerking up to the trees as the yowls vaguely take the incorporeal shape of your name on the battling wind. 

Simon growls, hand coming up to rest beside your skull on the trunk as he leans over you, gazing off into the night. 

“Stay still,” he utters into your ear, the compression shirt tight enough to make the bulk of bandages easily visible all along his arms and shoulders. A pistol is held loosely from his free hand—his fingers twitching around it as numb eyes move along the open spaces of forest. 

Not about to muster a response, your fatigued and addled mind begins to blank of all else but the scent of muddled oil and metal; tattoo ink. 

Simon grips you closer to his chest as the wrathful calls bounce on air-waves like arrows right to his building fury. The man’s jaw clenched tightly—body shaking not from the chill but from restraint. 

He’d broken out of the hospital with one goal: track you down and get you back. Anything else was an added pleasure that the veteran had mulled over as he busted out his old gear and strapped himself with whatever he might need. 

Everyone’s only concern was with how he was still shaky on his feet after the crash, but in reality, Simon barely noticed. The minute he’d heard you were gone, all bets were off. 

No one had clung to military life more than him, not even Price. 

No one messed with someone he cared about and got off scot-free, even if it ended in a life sentence in jail. Eating a meal was too good for Graham Whitaker—breathing was too good.

But before all of that dark work, first came you. 

Nothing else was touching you. Ever. 

So the rushing feet weren’t much of a concern to the man, truth be told. Simon clocked the fool a mile before his huffing was etching like a point through the storm, cheek to your scalp as you shiver and shake, fingers curled into his shirt as your eyelids flutter.

He needed to get you medical attention—clean those wounds. 

But Graham. 

“No!” His screaming continues, stumbling through about ten feet away—the glint of a gun at the fool’s thigh unmistakable. “No! I was asleep for five minutes!” 

Brown eyes don’t blink as they watch, feeling you tense and tighten even at the phonics of the man’s speech. 

“Don’t look, then, yeah?” Simon utters softly. The sound of the safety being flipped off on his gun was drowned out. Your mind barely comprehends the words, all of it slurring together as Simon’s hand curls your skull and covers your ear above the hood. An oil painting smeared by blood-coated fingers that hold you so sweetly. “Easy. It’ll be over soon.”

You get drunk on it as you nuzzle your face into his neck. Simon’s focus threatens to give way before he blinks at the scene ahead of him.

Graham twists in a circle, nearly sobbing as he yells even more and grips one hand into his hair, pulling harshly. It was like watching a toddler having a tantrum, though this was far more serious. And deadly.  

But all of that searching wasn't for nothing.

Simon lets his eyes lock with Graham Whitaker only once, and even then it was a mere glance. A Ghost deserves nothing more before it disappears back into smoke. 

Panicked widening, an arm seizing up. 

It had been for more of the mechanic’s benefit than anything else—torture in its own right as a rabbit stares down a wolf and its foaming maw. Simon was never reckless; never eager to kill even back then. It had been his job, and he’d done it tactfully—resourcefully. A dance of instinct and sheer nuance to get the ques down that had taken him decades to perfect. Training like that didn’t just go away.

People only saw him coming if he wanted them to.

And Simon desperately wanted this man to look into his eyes as he pulled that trigger. Not even the maggots would want the body he gives to them.

—

You both lay in bed, silent. 

The sheets are warm with body heat, and the cast around your arm had only come off two days ago—the flesh sore and the muscles weak. Around you, hard limbs are anchoring you to a chest filled with scars; scars you’d memorized easily as you traced over them like a painter with her favorite brush. 

He wouldn’t tell you the stories behind them, and you have to admit you were relieved about that. It was the past, after all. 

This moment was for the future.

“Want you to work with me in the shop,” Simon mutters as he stares into your eyes. You blink, brows lightly furrowing before his hand comes up and his digits brush your cheek softly. Your lashes flutter at the scrape of calluses as he continues in a low grumble. “Custom detailing.”

“...And will I be paid for this?” You ask him, teasingly—delicately. 

“As much as you want.” Simon isn’t joking. “More than what the fuckin’ bar can give you,” his breath moves over your pulse, making you shiver.

Your half-lidded eyes stay locked into those endless voids, his slow blinking waiting for an answer as the bulk of his belongings sits in the corner of your room. 

“Haven’t even finished the mural yet,” you huff. “Eager to get me next to you?”

“Yes.” Simon moves forward, and, without the need to hide himself from you, presses his lips to your chin, head dipping to tilt your face and allow him access to your neck. You hear him nearly purr when your fingers card his hair, nails set into his flesh.

“I make pretty good tips, Brown-Eyes.” Fingers pulse at your hips, slipping over flesh. 

There’s no reason to keep talking about this—your answer is already obvious—but the both of you enjoy this endless chase. 

Something new and, for you, something to make your feet stationary.  

Simon had taken out his CB1000R for the first time for your date yesterday, his eyes avoiding yours as you’d asked why he’d been five minutes late. He’d said it was because he’d been checking the motorcycle over all day—re-checking it once before coming over with a knot in his intestines. 

There was the very obvious change of two helmets, as well. You had thought you’d be hesitant to get on a bike again, but the feeling of Simon’s body in front of yours was more of a comfort than anything that came before. The wind at your sides as he’d driven far slower than ever—glancing back nearly every minute to make sure you were alright. 

Big teddy bear, you thought affectionately.

“Can give you a better one,” Simon jokes crudely in your bed, grunting like a beast. Your lips let loose a snort, head flopping down to rest on the top of the man’s skull. At his back, your fingers play with the brunt of his old scars as well as the new ones that are still and an angry red; barely closed.

“That was horrible.” Simon shivers under your study when your lips mutter your amusement.

“A bit.” He smirks. “You givin’ me an answer, Sunshine?”

This would be the last chance to get out of this town—say no and disappear, never to be seen again just like the hundreds before you. What life could you have out there? What could you build differently—build like a pack of wooden blocks and poke at before they fall down?

What could you nurture what you already had blooming?

You sigh, arm moving back to perch under Simon’s neck. Pulling him back, you tilt his head to meet yours as he hums, kissing him on the lips and taking his freedom as your own. Simon’s hand spans your spine as his fingers spread; the stretch of his tattoos corrupting your soul one atom at a time as he opens his eyes to watch.

A loyal sin had never tasted better. 

You ease back and whisper over his open mouth, “Yes.” 

October eyes consume you whole.

—

This town is small—it talks. Everyone knew what happened to Graham Whitaker; everyone knew who killed him. 

But small towns always have big secrets that no one ever discusses. 

They never found his body, and the boys had all made sure they never would. So, to this day, the bastard is still listed as he should be:

MISSING: GRAHAM WHITAKER

Dangerous individual believed armed and dangerous. Do not attempt to approach.

Information? Contact your local police force at the provided number below. 

Celina and the rest of Graham’s goons never showed their faces again, and even then, there was no evidence to directly tie them to anything beyond the loose connection to the vandalism.

Of course, the bar was always bustling, eager to speak about it even when ivy had crept over the telephone post flyers and hidden them from any eyes. That one cold case that was ingrained into its history until something else came along—told on long nights to ease the bored atmosphere of passing folk and crumbling buildings. Grumbled over the raw scent of black metal and grunted at the rim of a Neat Kentucky Bourbon.

The twitched smirk over those lips is always a staple, though, and so is the brown-eyed look passed your way as you sit content under the stretch of his arm, art journal open to yet another page as the appointments piled up. 

You haven’t shown him yet, but all of your sketches are of him.

TAGS:

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[teyamsatan]

Illicit Affairs | Chapter I: Willow

Pairing: Neteyam x f!Human!Reader

Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of death and disease

WC: 3,4k words

A/N: Sooo.. I kinda did something. This is the first fanfic I have written that will actually see the light of day, and also the first piece of writing (outside of master's dissertations, papers, scientific essays etc) that I have done since probably high school, which is longer ago than I'd like to admit. Anyway, I have been hyperfixated on Avatar recently, ATWOW fully bringing back my love and obsession for Pandora that I have had since 2009. I adore the new movie and the Sully kids, but I have a special place in my heart for Neteyam, so here we go. Let me know what you guys think. I work full time as a PhD student, so I'll try my best to write in my spare time and hopefully I can get this done the way I truly want to. This story is also loosely inspired by the incredible @forever--darling and her "One of Us" Neteyam fanfic, which I adore and have probably memorised by now with the amount of times I have read it.

I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife And if it was an open-shut case I never would've known from that look on your face Lost in your current like a priceless wine

“Wake up, Ace. It’s late already and there’s so much to do today, remember?” Norm’s voice pulled you out of a beautiful dream, one where you were flying on your chosen Ikran, high above the clouds, the worries…this lab. Albeit hard to swallow, you were almost relieved to be woken up, as feeding out-of-reach fantasies and dreams could lead to no good, anyhow. 

“I’m up… Jesus, Norm.” You felt yourself rise from your warm and comfortable bed and the feeling of your bare feet touching the cold, hard floor of the living quarters of the lab made you swallow a curse. 

“We left you some breakfast, get ready and meet us in the lab in 30, okay? We have the samples ready for you and you can run them after we’ve talked it through.” 

“Aye, aye, captain.” 

This was your life. You, among a few other people, were one of the only humans left on Pandora after the war took them back to Earth more than 17 years ago. Unlike the others, though, you were born here, on this foreign planet, the only home you’ve ever known. There was one more, a beautiful, feisty young man with a dark heritage, who liked to think that he is as much Pandoran as the actual natives. His name was Spider, and although you grew up together, there was not much you could say you had in common. He was wild and adventurous, has been his whole life; fully willing to immerse himself in the Na’vi ways and almost demanding a place amongst the people.

Although you have your doubts, he says the people were accepting of him, as he managed to befriend the most important family of the nearby Omatikaya tribe: the Sullys. Jake Sully, a former dream walker, rose to prominence as Toruk Makto, rider of Last Shadow. He brought multiple clans together to defeat the Sky People in their brutal quest for wealth and colonisation. He succeeded, after which he became Olo’yektan, leader of the Omatikaya. He is now fully Na’vi, after completing a consciousness transfer that allowed him to leave behind his human form and forever live as one of the people. It had never been done before. Jake was a great man, who became a mediator between the Na’vi and the humans left on Earth. His children, Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk, were brought up to know English and be accepting of everyone, regardless where they came from, as long as they had pure intentions and a strong heart. Spider was considered one of them. And, surprisingly, you were, too. 

Your mum was a medic and researcher, brought here many moons ago to assist the Dr. Grace Augustin and her team in their quest to understand Pandora and its miraculous biology. Your dad, a former Master Sergeant in the US Air Force, joined the RDA for their military purposes. You never met your dad. He died when the Sky People attacked, although no one knows for sure which side he ended up taking. Your mum didn’t even know she was pregnant with you at the time, that’s how new everything was. Your mum loved your dad and she maintained her belief that he ended up doing the right thing in the end. You believed that as a child, but now are not so sure. Nevertheless, you still kept his dog tag, in a drawer at the bottom of your desk, a reminder of where you come from and what mistakes not to repeat. 

Your mum died where you were 10. It was the worst day of your life. The cancer, which slowly spread in the beginning, overtook her being one faithful day, which you will never be able to erase from your memory. There is no chemotherapy, no radiation therapy, no drugs that could have prevented this, not here, not on Pandora. Your mum made a decision to remain on this planet she loved more than her own and it eventually killed her. She had no regrets, she said. She was happy to have lived and loved and died here, among Eywa. The Na’vi loved her. She was good friends and a mentor to Neytiri and Jake, both of whom agreed to give her a Na’vi send off. You were there that day, one of the few times you had visited the Home Tree. You remember the pouring rain, falling so hard it washed away the tears spilling from your eye almost as soon as they emerged. You remember Lo’ak and Kiri, your beautiful friends that have always been there for you, mourning with you. Your mum was their favourite aunt. She introduced them to music and films, and showed all of you her favourite books and painters and made sure you all understood that humans, despite their many flaws, have beauty and love and good in them, that no matter what, will prevail. “It will prevail because of you. Because you will carry it along and share it. You will revel in the beauty and fight to bring it back because what better way is there to live?”

You finished breakfast quickly, some dry toast with some fruit Kiri brought you the last time she visited and made your way back to the lab. You found Norm and Max, alongside two other human scientists, Tim and Claire, sitting on chairs next to the lab benches, discussing plans for the week. 

“There she is, the brightest of us all.” You smirked at the compliment, raising your eyebrows in amusement and sitting down next to Claire. 

“You’ve done great work last week, Ace The ELISAs show promise that Relensa might have some effect against this type of Pandora virus. I need you to now repeat it with the samples we’ve provided and also include a different type of positive control to the experiment, if possible.”

“Will do. How about a combination therapy? I know Relensa is not the only type of anti-viral therapy we have available. Amantidin, maybe? We have to go at this from all angles, you know?” 

“Our Amantidin reserve is running severely short, but give it a try. Try a dose-response? Maybe 100 nano molars to 1 micro molar? Try 1milimolar as a positive control?”

This was your life. Unlike Spider, you avoided the clan. You did not want to be the walking reminder of everything they’ve lost. You were happy to sit back and dedicate your life to helping from the shadows. Your mum was a medic and a researcher, one of the brightest in the world. She wrote the book on Na’vi anatomy and physiology, she wanted to understand the people and hopefully help them mitigate losses brought by disease. You continued that work. Although young, you learned everything there was to learn. Not like you had anything else to do. You worked as a scientist and a nurse and a doctor if needs be. You patched humans up, stitched their wounds, ran experiments on Pandora pathogens and tried to find a cure against viral and bacterial diseases that plagued the Na’vi. You spent your life in the lab, and in the adjacent hub, learning, working out and playing the guitar and piano your mum taught you when you were really young. You couldn’t say you loved it, loved being here all the time, but you were content knowing you were, in your own way, making up for your species’ past mistakes. 

Around lunchtime, you heard commotion from the entryway. A very familiar voice reverberated through the hallways. Your lips raised in a soft smile. Lo’ak. 

Removing your lab coat, goggles and gloves, you made your way towards the origin of the sound. The tall, much-taller-than-you young man picked up a breathing mask from the designated shelf and waved at you with unwavering enthusiasm. You loved this boy. Your brother, for all intents and purposes, your partner-in-crime for all time. He loved you, too, you knew that, and you thought in a different life, in a different universe, you were soulmates, braving life’s tough storms together. 

“Brought you lunch, angel.” Your nickname for you made you roll your eyes. You hated it, but the more you hated it, the more he used it so you remained silent. “I thought you could use a break from the stale excuse you guys call food around here.” 

Lo’ak spoke English with you most of the time. He took to your parents’ (and his dad’s) culture the most out of all the kids. You spent a lot of your childhood together, hunched around a computer with old reruns of shows your mum loved in her youth, shows and movies that were way before even her time. She said she loved seeing what Earth looked like before humans killed their mother. Shows like Gilmore Girls, Friends and Modern Family were some of her favourites. You devoured them as a child, and Lo’ak did so too, with you. You drove her crazy as children, and drove Norm and Max crazy as teenagers, both trying to understand references and sayings, buildings and activities, games and idiosyncrasies. The Earth you grew up watching and reading up was beautiful, a star in the night sky you will never be able to touch. 

Lo’ak made his way to the dining room of the hub, and lay several carefully-packed items on the table. Fresh teylu, cooked over fire and Pandora vegetables, all full of colour and flavour, all much better than anything that could come out of this place. You realise that you are starving as soon as you lay your eyes on them. Before you even sat down, you dug your fingers in and quickly ate some teylu, groaning at the delicious sweet meaty flavour. It was your favourite, and Lo’ak knew. He laughed at your apparent desperation and motioned for you to sit down. You obliged, and you both sat in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s company and the food he provided. 

“How’s training going? I haven’t seen you in a few days.” 

“I die a little bit inside every time you make me remember I spend my days training like a little robot. It’s going fine. Tiring, you know? My dad is fully back in his Marine ways. He knows it’s been enough time that the humans are bound to return sooner or later. He says they’d never leave this world, and all its untapped riches alone without a fight. So it’s a lot of military training… if we walk like them, talk like them and fight like them, it might bring us some sort of advantage, you know?” 

“Yeah, I know. I know it’s a pain, but he’s only doing this to protect you guys. He’s right. The humans are bound to return one day and when they do, we have to be prepared.” He doesn’t know this, but you have also been training, learning about guns, going through your dad’s old manuals and whatever else the RDA has left behind that could possibly be of use. You use the guns that are in the hub to learn how to aim, shoot, strip field, reload and clean the weapons, so you too can be prepared when the time comes. You might be stuck in a weak human body, but you will not be weak. 

“Neteyam’s driving me nuts. He used to be fun, remember that? He’s such a killjoy, it’s hard to stomach being around him anymore. He’s always giving out orders, always making sure everything is in order and perfect, like him. He’s been training like crazy, and sticking to my dad like he’s some sort of fungus you can’t get rid of. Drives me crazy.”

“Hey, don’t talk about your brother like that. There’s a line, Lo’ak. Neteyam only wants the best for you guys, and he’s the oldest. He has to carry the burden of being the responsible one while you guy cause mischief all the time.” 

Neteyam, Jake and Neytiri’s oldest, is more Na’vi than all the other children combined, in both looks and personality. Whilst the two middle children, Lo’ak and Kiri have five fingers, eyebrows and a more human appearance, Neteyam is all Neytiri. He’s tall and lean and seems like he was born with a bow in hand. A true warrior, you always found him a tad intimidating. Just like his mum, he has his apprehensions about humans and avatars, and although he used to come to the hub quite often when he was younger, mostly to keep an eye on his siblings, the visits have become a rarity as of recent times. 

You wonder how the young man changed in the time you haven’t seen him. You used to be close as children, or at least that’s what you thought. Whereas Spider took to Lo’ak and Kiri, their mischievous personalities a good match for each other, you took to the oldest Sully boy. He was quiet and thoughtful, and he used to look at you like a puzzle he was trying to solve, but couldn’t. He used to sit in the back as you used to play piano, and his gaze on you used to make your skin blush and your heart race. You tried not to think about the pang of hurt that rose in your chest as you remembered that he essentially abandoned you, without so much as a farewell. 

“Earth to Y/N, are you still there?” Lo’ak interrupted your train of thought and you were half grateful that you didn’t have to think about Neteyam anymore. 

“Sorry. You were saying?”

“I was saying you’re right, I know I should be more understanding, I am happy I don’t have to be the one to carry all of responsibility, but it’s hard not to hold a grudge when it seems my brother was abducted by aliens and replaced with a weird, no-fun replica of himself.” 

You groaned at the young Sully’s ongoing verbal attacks, but said no more. Whatever was going on between the two Sully boys was, at the end of the day, none of your business. 

“Anyway…” Lo’ak started, a mischievous grin appearing on his beautiful face, “I know something you don’t.” 

“Mmm, what is that?”

“I’m not telling you, but let’s just say I think it will make you very happy.” 

“Well that’s just cruel. You know I hate surprises.”

After lunch, Lo’ak joined you in the recreation hub, where you kept a guitar and the piano that the humans left behind. You didn’t feel like going back to work just yet. You sat down on the cold floor and picked up your copy of Pride and Prejudice, your mum’s favourite book. The book was coming apart at the seams, worn down from all the times you have held it in your hands, as if gripping it tighter would bring her back to you, even if for only a split second. You sighed as you passed the book to Lo’ak and motioned for him to put it on the table next to him.

“Sing for me, will you? I missed hearing your voice.” 

You smiled up at him. Nobody knew you like Lo’ak did. Nobody accepted you the way Lo’ak did. Both of you felt out of place in this world, like you didn’t quite belong anywhere. He has spent many an hour confessing how alone he’s felt all his life. You’d like to think you helped. You picked up your guitar and played a familiar song, one you knew he loved.

“Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind , as if you were a mythical thing

Like you were a trophy or a champion ring, and there was one prize I'd cheat to win

The more that you say, the less I know

Wherever you stray, I follow

I'm begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans

That's my man”

You sat like this for hours, laughing and playing and singing. You tried to teach him a couple of chords on the guitar, which looked puny in his massive hands. With a loud thud, the open to the recreation centre swung open, making both of your heads turn in shock. 

“Lo’ak, what the fuck?” 

The harsh tone came from a man, a man you barely recognised anymore. Tall and muscular, he was not the same Neteyam you last saw. He was adorning a carefully crafted neck piece that matched his hunter’s chest piece and the knife holder he kept by his hips. You took a second to adjust to the man in front of you, that you haven’t seen in so long, that will always have a special place in your heart. Your gaze eventually fell on his face, which, like the rest of him, matured so much in all that time apart. He was beautiful. His hair was freshly braided and you couldn’t help but stare at the beaded strands that framed his face. As much as his body and face changed, they didn’t hold a candle to his eyes. The big yellow orbs that always looked at you curiously and intently were now focused on Lo’ak with rage flashed across them. 

“You were supposed to meet me at the Home Tree a fucking hour ago, Lo’ak. Dad asked you to join the hunting party and pull your weight for once, remember that? Are you physically unable to do anything that is ever asked of you?” 

He is yet to even spare a glance in your direction. You felt your blood pressure rising at the oldest Sully, but you pushed it down to look at Lo’ak, who was staring daggers at his older brother. As he was opening his mouth to undoubtedly say something that would get him in even more trouble than he was already in, you cut him off. 

“It’s my fault.” You say in Na’vi. You doubted Neteyam was in the mood for English, so as to not escalate the tensions further, you opted for your semi-decent Na’vi. “I needed his help with some samples Norm got for me that I couldn’t identify. I’m done now, though. Sorry for taking him from his duties.”

His eyes finally snapped from Lo’ak and laded on your frame. You saw his lips parting in confusion and then settle in a firm line. His eyes scanned your body from head to toe. You changed. A lot. Your hair was now close to reaching your narrow waist, which he hated himself for noticing. You were wearing what the humans called a “top”, that was cut above your abdomen and had the word “Stanford” written across it. He’s sure he’s seen it before, although he couldn’t place where. You were wearing bottoms, short and blue, with cuts in them, which Neteyam didn’t get. Why are your clothes ripped? It’s not like you fought some animal in the wild, you never got out. He couldn’t help noticing how lean you had become, so lean, in fact, he could trace your muscles with precision, something he is rarely able to do with humans. Your species was puny and weak, which is why they needed avatars and exo-suits to survive on Pandora. Realizing he was staring, his eyes moved from you back to Lo’ak, and motioned for him to get up. Although he huffed and puffed, Lo’ak obliged without saying a word. He turned around before exiting the room, giving you one last exasperated look. You winked at him and clicked your tongue in the direction of the forest, a small smile on your face. This skxawng. 

“Hey, you.” You called after Neteyam in English, as soon as Lo’ak disappeared from your line of view. You don’t know what you expected, but you had to try. He turned around and his eyes met yours. It was like looking at a stranger. 

“I really have to go, Y/N.” He said, with a deep voice and slight accent, and his eyes fell on the floor as soon as he noticed the look of hurt that crossed your face. 

“Fine, go.” You said, quickly composing yourself. You refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he can hurt your feelings. You turned around, and busied yourself cleaning up, not sparing a second look in his direction. His gaze shifted back to your frame, and with a sigh, he made his way out of the lab and your life, once more. 

[graciegoeskrazy]

Hey i was wondering if you could do a matty fic where his daughter comes out as trans to him and the boys? Or if you are not comfortable writing for trans people like just coming out as gay?

figure my heart out

Matty Healy + Queer!Teen!Daughter!reader

Warnings: coming out, a lil yelling

A/N: Hi!!! Okay so I was writing something similar but then I put it down but then I saw this request and RAN TO MY COMPUTER AS FAST AS POSSIBLE ASNCONTINUED WRITING BCUZ I GOT EXCITED. A sorry and thank you to the anon who requested this! I felt like I wouldn’t do it justice if I did it with transreader and as a bisexual with a similar coming out experience this was easy peasy lol. None the less i love and appreciate you and I hope u enjoy! I really really really really really like this one and I’m proud of how it turned out. Enjoy!

The epitome of a perfect night. Driving in your girlfriends new convertible with the top down while blasting Lana Del Ray and giggling and smiling like nothing else in the world matters became a wonderful feeling of pure bliss. You wish you could stay in that moment forever. Endless talking about the things the people who piss you off in school talk about, or airing out your problems to her because sometimes it feels as if she is the only one who listens. There was no one word for that feeling. All you knew is that you craved it. You needed it like a an IV through your arm, supplying nothing but joy and love into your life. You didnt just need her but she needed you too.

Yes it was a secret, but it was a beautiful one, Sure, sometimes you wanted nothing more than to parade through town with your hands intertwined and boat to everyone around you that she was your girlfriend, but this secret needed to stay hidden. Not just for her, but for you too. You were n stranger to the things your father has said online. He was Matty Healy, if the guy wasnt known for his music, he was for sure known as the man who makes homophobic jokes on stage everynight to a sold out crowd. The man has been cancelled and apoloized more times than you could count. Even though everytime he says he’s not against anything of the sort - ad you whole heartidly believed that - would it be different because you were his daughter? Some days that thought was just a quiet whisper in your head, and some days that voice grew louder until it grew loud enough to keep you up at night. But you always came to the same conclusion. He would love you no matter what…right?

Any and all thoughts surrounding it came nowhere near crossing your mind while you were at your girlfriends. After singing your hearts out and getting lost but not caring at all on the drive, you both decided to head back to her place since her tank was running low. It was there you fell asleep in her arms. Not thinking. Not caring. Not paying attention to anyone else in the world but her. And most definitely not thinking about you 11 pm curfew.

To June’s parents, you were just a friend sleeping over. A best buddy who helped their daughter get through her high school years. Nothing more than a nice, kind, good girl with good morals. And that was true. They just didn't know about the part where you make out with their daughter every time you’re under their roof. Same with you dad. They were downstairs, absolutely clueless of what was happening above them when a loud flush they made woke you up. You jolted awake and as a result of sleeping so close to your girlfriend, woke her up too. The blaring light on your phone read 1:07.

“Fuck.”

You scrambled out of bed and started packing up your bag without saying a word to June.

“What’s happening?” She said, still half asleep.

You turned to her, suddenly becoming more gentle. “Go back to bed. I missed my curfew, my dad doesn’t know I’m here. If I don’t leave he’s gonna get suspicious as to why slept over during a study session.”

She smiled at you, pulling you in for a kiss. “You’re just a very determined student.”

You fell into the kiss, and let go with a smile. “Bye.” You said. She winked and watched you walk out the door. “Text me when you get home please.”

You turned back and winked, shutting the door.

The drive to your house was uneventful. Yeah sure, you missed your curfew, but it wasn't like your dad was the type of helicopter parent to make sure you were home exactly by 11. You hadn't even received a call or message asking you where you were. If anything he was probably fast asleep along with the other members of the band. Or at least that’s what you told yourself.

When you walked into the flat you shared with your dad and your uncles, it was dead silent. You could hear the silent snores coming from Mayhem on the dog bed in the living room and the crickets outside. You were in the clear. You walked very carefully heading up to your room. Before you could even make it to the 2nd step. You heard a voice. Stern and loud.

“Y/n Healy.”

It was your father. Of fucking-course. As you slowly turned around you were met with him standing in the dining-kitchen area. A light turned on and revealed his full frame along with Ross, George, Adam, Carly, and Jamie. All sitting down at the table except for your dad, standing above them all. He slowly walked towards you as you stood still staring at him. You closed your eyes and let out a shaky breath, followed by a “Shit.”

“Where were you?” Your dad asked sternly. To which you replied, “Nowhere.” It was clear he was PISSED. He only spoke twice and it was evident you were in for something. He never spoke this way. Never to you at least. Until now. He raised his eyebrows, giving you a second chance. You sighed again, looking down and toying with your fingers. “I was with June.” You said shyly.

“Tell me the truth.” He said. His tone softened just a hair.

“That is the truth-“

“Tell me the whole truth.”

You dad knew you like the back of his hand. You were him. A literal miniature version of Matty Healy. Therefore he knew when you were lying. Not that you did it often, you were a very trustworthy kid. Never lied, never got grounded. (Ok so maybe not a literal miniature Matty)

You shrugged, “I was just with June.”

He raised his voice again, “Stop lying to me, y/n.”

“I’m not lying!” You raised your voice this time.

“Your hand twitches every time you lie.”

You were taken aback. Shit, I thought I grew out of that. You just scoffed. “No, it doesn’t.”

Adam spoke up and pointed to your hand and it’s movements. “Boom. Twitch.” You gave him a look.

Matty ignored him and stayed locked in on you. “In all of your years of existence on this earth, you’ve never lied to me.” He said, a little more gentler this time.

“And, I’m still not. I’m telling the truth-”

“But you’re not telling me the full truth.” He was very good at this whole parenting thing. He put his hands on your shoulders. You didn’t reply, just sighed and looked down. After a moment, he continued. “You’re grounded.” You head shot up. He walked back to the kitchen and started refilling his drink. You followed in suite.

“What! For what?”

“For lying.”

“I’m not lying! I’ve never even been grounded in my life.”

He shrugged, “There’s a first time for everything.”

You could not believe what you were hearing. “C'mon Dad! George, help me out.”

George was ethier high of drunk or both because he seemed to be enjoying this little argument way to much. “I’m on his side for this one, babe.” He said.

“What?! You guys, I'm not lying.” You said, gesturing to the group.

“You’ll be ungrounded when you tell me where you were.” Your dad said from the kitchen.

“I was with June! How many times do I have to say that?!”

“Doing what?”

Your eyes widened and you stuttered a bit. The group must have noticed because that to them was a giveaway that something more was going on than you cared to share for. “Nothing! We were just hanging out!”

“Your hand twitched again.” Adam yelled.

You turned to fully face him again. “I’m about to murder you.” You said.

You dad came back around and with a solum look, but a hand over your shoulder. “Look, I’m not gonna get mad. Whatever you’re hiding, it’s not worth getting grounded over. Tell me what’s going on - the truth - and all let you go. Okay?”

You couldn’t do it. There were so many possibilities of what could happen from this moment on. None of which you wanted to explore. You rolled your eyes and headed back to the stairs, whispering a faint, “Whatever.”

Your father followed behind. “Y/n Healy, tell me NOW-“

“I was on a date with June!” You yelled.

“We went on a date! Ok? We went on a date then went back to her place and watched TikToks for an hour before watching New Girl reruns and having awesome sex. I lost track of time, I tried to sneak in so none of you would find out, and so my secret would stay secret.”

The room was quiet. Only the sounds of Mayhem and the crickets like you heard before. Tears were falling out of your eyes and you were heaving pretty heavily.

“Is my hand shaking now?!”

Everybody remained quiet and still, not daring to move. “Jesus.” You said as a final goodbye, before walking up the stairs to your room as fast as you could.

A few minutes after they heard the door slam, Ross spoke up. “You fucked up bro.”

Matty shook his head. “It’s not my fault.” He said in defense

“Mate, you just forced your daughter to come out to you.” George yelled.

Marty liked back at the stairs. A single tear falling from his face as he does so. “Shit.”

[chans5oive]

Once more.

chan x gn reader

Genre: childhood friends to lovers au x idol au

warning: slight angst towards the end but ends with fluff!

Word count: 971

a/n: Hey!! This is my first ever fic please be nice and let me know if i made any mistakes and likes and re-blogs are appreciated but please give credit!!

You and chan have known each other since you were born your mothers were in a pre-natal group together and really hit it off and became best-friends. You knew Chan all through primary school in Seoul. Later when it was time to move to high-school you found out chan was moving to Australia and you were moving to (insert country.) After saying you hurtful goodbyes you guys promised to stay in touch.

Occasionally you would visiting each other and act like you have never left each other. However, the mutual friend feeling suddenly changed for Chan. It was summer in Australia you were 15 and Chan was the same, you went visit - not seeing Chan in a while so neither of you really had a recent image of one another- you wore short clothing from the obvious heat and when you saw Chan for the first time in what felt like ages he was blown away.

“were they always this cute” he thought.

“Wow Ive never never noticed the dimples when they smile before” he thought as you smiled at his sister.

You and Chan headed up to his room to do some mindless catching up when Chan could feel his heart racing and his palms getting sweaty. Yes, it could be from the sweltering heat…but what if it wasn’t? You dived onto Chans bed already making yourself comfortable as he put on a movie. You were engulfed in the movie but Chan couldn’t take his eyes of you. The movie ended and you turned to Chan. “hey i need to tell you something” you sputtered.

Recently, you decided to audition for JYP just for fun to see if you would get in and as it turns out you did.

“i auditioned for JYP and i got in so im moving back to Korea i guess” you spat.

“oh my god y/n that is probably the best thing i have ever heard” he spoken in an eger tone.

“i did too!! And im moving there in spring!” He jumped

so it was settled you and Chan would move together and train side by side. Which of course you did but not without making a few friends on the way.

-10 years later-

“Y/n!” A girl with long black hair called out to you.

“Yeji!” You cried

You and Yeji have been friends right from the start of your training process. She joined around the same time as you and since then you two became inseparable. “i thought you didn’t need to come in today?” She quizzed

“yeah but my comeback is soon and i wanted to see Chan in the studio!” You explained

“oh ok!” You hugged and make your way over to Chans studio.

You knock on the door and hear a familiar aussie voice coming from inside

“come in!!” He yelled.

You walk in and smell the familiar smell (you would often visit) of coffee and the old wood smell from the walls. Your wrap your arms around him and hug him tight. Chans heart raced once again and his palms once again becoming sweaty just like he did when he was 15. You sat on the couch and asked if he needed any help as you were an idol and a music producer too.

Finally, Chan had finished his work and found you asleep on his studio couch. He smiled and draped his jacket over your body.

ok hes in love

Chan with this new realisation he would distance himself. Your his best-friend and has been since your guys were born! He can’t confess can he? What if you break up? How could he live without you? He decided to consult in his closest friends. “just date her idk why your so stressed” a muffled reply came from Minho snacking on a bun.

“Yeah date her” came from 6 other boys in an overly loud manner.

With all this too think about Chan does the one thing he does when he needs to disassociate from reality. Make music.

You were worried. Chan hadn’t been answering you messages or calls. He always said he was too busy or when he saw your walking he would run the other way. You were getting sick of it because you couldn’t think of anything that you did wrong!

You came up with a plan. To trap chan and get him to say what is wrong.

You had the perfect plan, you would show up to his dorm unannounced and the boys would make sure he was home. You show up just as you planned there he was sitting on the couch.

“God hes gorgeous- wait did you just call chan gorgeous” you thought.

Putting that thought aside. You called out to Chan and made sure he couldn’t run.

“YA!! Why are you ignoring me!!!” You splutter already feeling a lump in you throat.

“Y/n-“

“No NO i did nothing why are you ignoring me i don’t understand!!” Oh great! Your crying. Perfect.

“I LIKE YOU OK..i like you” he spits out slightly crying too.

“what-“ you were shocked. In fairness you were actually quite happy you had always had a slight crush on Chan but i guess you never really noticed it apart from when you saw him on the couch mere moments ago.

“listen y/n i’ve liked no no loved you since we were 15 and when you visited me in Australia and you were just so..cute! And funny and sweet! Your just so perfect and-“

before he could say another word you pressed your lips against his. Slowly but tenderly kissing. Passionate like you were both waiting for this for 10 years you both have .

You pull away “in case you couldn’t tell Christopher chan i like you too” and pressed you lips together once more.

Tag list: @mazeinthemiroh @jisungsdaydreamer @fantasy2wonderland @anyamaris @chocotonez

if you want to be un/added to the list let me know and lemme know if i missed anything or didnt tag anyone :)

[bunny-eats-fox]

✧ ✦ ✧ masterlist ✧ ✦ ✧

🍑 NSFW // explicit sex scenes, 18+ themes 🌸 SFW // nothing explicit, maybe hinted at things 💔 angst // hurt-comfort // dark(er) themes

for  any  additional  information  please  read  the  warnings  at  the beginning  of  each  story !!

━•❃•❀•❃•━ G E N S H I N  ━•❃•❀•❃•━

💌 a r a t a k i   i t t o 

- just friends? (🌸)    ➟ you and itto have a sex relationship, nothing more, nothing less. however, when you tell him you want to break it off, things don’t go as planned.

- just friends? - the incident (🍑)   ➟ the prehistory to “just friends?”. how did you and itto even become friends with benefits in the first place?

- you’re mine (💔)    ➟ itto saw you talking to another man and something inside of him snapped. as if his inner oni went wild, he grabbed you and dragged you inside your house where he marked you as his once again.

- love like this (🌸) ➟ after a rough, but satisfying session of love making, you pamper the oni before it’s time to hit the sack.

💌 k a m i s a t o   a y a t o 

- thinking of you (🍑)  ➟  ayato has been thinking about you all day long – in a not so innocent way. and now that you’re finally alone in his office, he can’t hold back anymore, even at the risk of getting caught.

━•❃•❀•❃•━ H A I K Y U U ! ━•❃•❀•❃•━  

💌 o i k a w a   t o r u

- love me, not him (🌸)    ➟ iwaizumi likes you, oikawa likes you too and you like oikawa back, but things aren’t as easy as they seem. especially when the captain tries his best to hide his feelings and instead support his best friend. toru promised him after all…

- the sweet taste of chocolate (🌸)    ➟ oikawa and valentine’s day means fangirls, love letters and presents galore. but all toru wants is a valentine’s present from only one girl – you.

- frustrated (🍑)   ➟  you come home from work, frustrated and angry. but fret not, your boyfriend Oikawa Toru is there to help you get rid of your stress and let off some steam.

- with you by my side (🌸)  ➟  An abandoned, marked Omega with a child finally fell in love again. But it’s not as easy as it sounded. As if Tooru could ever believe you would want someone as broken and used as him.

💌 k u r o o   t e t s u r o u

- desire (🌸): ch. I // ch. 2   ➟ your sexual preferences were something you had never told anyone. not after that one time your, now ex-boyfriend, called you a crazy, perverted bitch when you had the courage to tell him. so, for all the relationships that came after, you had swallowed your desires to dominate your man. safe to say, your relationships never lasted long. until you met kuroo. and for the first time, you couldn’t hold back and as hard as you tried, it all spilled out eventually.  

💌 m i y a   a t s u m u 

- lost on you (🍑🌸):  ch. I // ch. II  // ch. III  // ch. IV // ch. V // ch. VI // ch. VII // ch. VIII // ch. IX // ch. X // ch. XI // ch. XII // ch. XIII // ch. XIV // ch. XV // ch.XVI // ch.XVII  ➟  you were neighbors since birth and friends since kindergarten; you, osamu and atsumu had known each other for a long time. however, as years passed, you realized the immense crush you had on the younger twin. while you lived by their sides, your one-sided crush on osamu never let you look any other way than his. thus, you failed to notice a longing gaze on you. but it all changed when, one day in university, you found out that osamu had a girlfriend. with your heart shattered, atsumu stole the chance to “console” you properly to hopefully get you to finally notice him. 

💌 t e r u s h i m a   y u j i 

- first love (🌸) ➟  in high school, you had a huuuge crush on him. though, after you confessed, he rejected you. eight long years you tried to forget him just for terushima to appear again in your life. one smile was enough, and it all came back again.

💌 p o l y   r e l a t i o n s h i p

- (Bokuto / Kuroo) cat and owl (🍑)  ➟ bokuto came home to you and kuroo cuddling without him – a tragedy indeed. but you make it up to him.

━•❃•❀•❃•━  S K 8 ∞ ━•❃•❀•❃•━  

💌 n a n j o   k o j i r o   /   j o e 

- into you (🌸)  ➟ kojiro and you had met in middle school. that’s when you started crushing on him. then, one incident later, you weren’t talking to each other anymore. eight years later, you finally meet again. will you both be finally honest about your true feelings? 

━•❃•❀•❃•━ B N H A ━•❃•❀•❃•━  

💌 t o d o r o k i   s h o t o 

- spring snow (🌸)   ➟ you have an ice quirk and are an alpha. hence why, after a little bit of back and forth between your mother and the todorokis, rei gave in and shoto met you. no one would have thought you would click so well right off the bat. and just like that, your story started on a hot summer day.

💌  b a k u g o u   k a t s u k i 

- a different side (🌸)  ➟ drunk bakugou has always been different. this time as well, katsuki’s friends have a blast teasing the drunk hero.

━•❃•❀•❃•━ H O R I M I Y A ━•❃•❀•❃•━  

💌 y a n a g i   a k a n e

- morning grouch (🌸)  ➟  you and akane were only dating for a few weeks. that’s why, when you called him one morning and you heard your usual polite boyfriend so pissed off and rude… it shocked you!

💌 m i y a m u r a  i z u m i

- heart on my sleeve (🌸) ➟  you met him in a park when he saved you from an obtrusive stranger. when you found out the pretty boy you just met lived in the same apartment complex and you’d go to the same high school together, you thought it was the start of your perfect high school romance.

- about first times (🍑) ➟  request: “Hey, okay? I don’t know if you accept requests…. if so, could you write something for Miyamura, where the reader is jealous of him with Hori? (If you can write some hot stuff too… )Thanks!!”

- chaos (💔🌸) ➟   After an already atrocious day at work, you come home, exhausted and on the verge of tears. When another tiny inconvenience happened at home, it set you off so bad, you had a meltdown. However, the moment your boyfriend recoiled, ready to get slapped, you abruptly stopped, wondering... What the hell?!

━•❃•❀•❃•━ Z E L D A ━•❃•❀•❃•━  

💌 l i n k 

- after hero hours (🍑) ➟  submissive link gets dominated by his girlfriend 

━•❃•❀•❃•━ A L L  O U T ! ! ━•❃•❀•❃•━  

💌 s e k i z a n  t a k u y a

- sweet (🌸) ➟  about sekizan’s sweet tooth

[bloodofvalyriaarchive]

so i haven't talked much about what's happened since i put myself in the hospital and moved home. i was obviously really sick for a bit but i had some serious downtime and am feeling back to normal. ive gotten sober, ive been working out everyday, working on myself and connected with some old friends i had lost touch with over the years.

one of which is an old friend and lover named david. i dated him when i was 16 and he was my first kiss literally ever. my family was extremely religious growing up (jehovahs witnesses) and at around 15/16 was when i started to be vocal about my opinions on the organization and acting rebellious. i remember telling my parents i was sleeping at a friends to sneak around with him, and we just wandered around our small home town all night until the sun came up - just making out everywhere and sleeping in the park together. i have a lot of funny silly memories with him. my first kiss at the public pool, getting in BIG trouble with my parents for making out with him in front of the local mcdonald's i worked at, him literally picking me up by my ankles at school because i was like half the size of him and me HATING it and him but making out with him for hours anyways. when we broke up it was literally something from a coming of age comedy or something. he brought me to the staff parking lot of our high school and broke my little angsty heart lol. then when i looked up at the library window his FRIENDS were watching and i was horrified lmao. he was still always someone i considered safe after our separation, and i always had a little spot for him in my heart long after everything ended. later, in my early 20s we did reconnect for a time and had a physical relationship but it never really went anywhere beyond that, we were both still young and navigating our lives. we remained friends and he ended up with a woman who he had a baby with, i ended up in a relationship of five years. i sort of dropped off the face of the world for a bit and lost touch with a lot of my old friends i grew up with until recently. i remade facebook and we found each other on there immediately and started talking again a lot. i told him about all the shit id recently been through and he told me about where he was at in his life and honestly i thought he was still indifferent towards me until about a week ago. we fucked in his car, lol. the chemistry was unreal from literally the first kiss on and we spent the rest of the week together. he took me to the movies to see pearl, bought me dinner, bought me a dnd collectors edition of a source book i wanted?! that i mentioned literally once?)?? i spent every night sleeping at his house where he held me all night and just showered me with affection. he texts me the cutest shit in the WORLD telling me that i was always the one that got away, and how happy he is to have another chance. and i trust him. i feel safe with him. ive known him for half my life and he still gives me butterflies like im 16.

[jemmo]

i haven’t talked about my only 12% at all yet but that last episode was simply too much not to talk about. and above all the incredible emotional scenes, i mean santa specifically. bc ive always known earth is good and he plays his role perfectly but it’s been so long since ive seen someone embody a character like santa does with cake. he’s just phenomenal. the classic mischievous but loveable kid that loves to wind you up and yet you can’t help but be endeared by him. a boys boy that squirrels away this little part of his world with eiw where he cares and feels in a way that high school boys don’t. it’s all so natural and effortless, the way he touches eiw with casual familiarity but in a way that screams that he just can’t help himself, he just has to touch him, has never thought about needing to hold himself back from something so normal and right. and the minutia of his expressions in this most recent episode. I hate to bring out the big guns but he’s the first performance that’s reminded me so much of pat, and this episode just confirmed it, bc so much of it reminded me of ep 5 pat, the oh moment of realising this person means something to you in a way that’s different from everyone else, different from what you’ve ever know. the feeling of seeing for the first time what’s always been there. leaving is the kick in teeth that makes cake realise it, and you can see the joy he feels in eiw’s company blossom right as the pain kicks in. it’s so heartbreaking. the scene after he breaks up with his girlfriend, when eiw is trying to get him to talk about it, trying to get him to explain what’s happened, but cake can’t bring himself to say much bc he doesn’t really care what happened, he’s just realised he doesn’t care at all. he wants eiw to stop asking about it bc eiw shouldn’t care either bc this high school relationship is so insignificant compared to what they have and what they’re losing. and you can feel his bursting at the seams to say “it was you. I broke it off because of you, bc i like you more, I care about you more, i want every last second i spend here to be with you and no one else”. it’s in the way he changes his behaviour, wakes up early, sits next to eiw in class and the way eiw changes to meet him, bc everything that stopped them from acting this way before, their hang ups and misplaced priorities and anxieties, they’re so irrelevant now. it’s like the world falls away bc they just want to consume and absorb every moment of the other they can. it’s the way he smiles across at eiw on the bus and asks if he’s ok, bc even when he’s supposed to pretend he’s not there, he cant. it’s that sight, so warm and reassuring, the moment you know you’re gonna think of when he’s gone. its the way he says “when you’re at school, i will no longer be a problem in your eyes”, bc deep down that’s what he’s always thought, that the way he is, loud and boisterous and playful, that eiw can’t take it, that it pushes him away, makes it hard to be around him, bc he can’t handle being around someone that receives so much attention. he makes eiw nervous, the way he is and things he wants to do make eiw anxious, and that now he’s gone, he is now at least taking away that fear for him. it’s the way he says “nobody can wait for me that long” and then says, to eiw only, “you have to wait for me please”, because he is realistic enough to expect to be forgotten, but at his rawest and most vulnerable, he lets himself dream that eiw would remember him, because he’d let the rest of the world forget him if it meant eiw would still be there, would hold onto him, until he came back.

so yeah, cake broke my heart, but so did santa.

[schlenting]

You always heard of childhood romance, having your best friend be a guy while youre AFAB in a latino household I was surrounded by people shipping us. Teachers, friends, strangers, even our own family, but we didnt try anything until after we graduated highschool. We've known each other since kindergarten, him a needy kid with glasses and a but awkward while I, at the time, was a social butterfly who got along with anyone but I did have specific interest girls didnt like hut he did

We clicked, spent everyday together, told each other everything. Highs, lows, it didnt matter, we were always there for each other. We both got crushes on each other, but they never timed right for us to want to date, it was always he'd crush ok me when I didnt want to deal with anyone or I crushed on him while he was chasing someone else. But, on our second year of university, things changed.

We stayed in the island, but his campus was all the way across the island, so we stayed in contact via frequent visits and discord calls, but then Pandemic happened. We couldnt move, we couldnt see each other when we were so used to seeing each other daily for the past 13 years, so when the ban lifted, when we could finally spend time together again, the emotions were overwhelming. We kissed, the confessions and the song he dedicated to me, as cheesy and generic as it was, it made sense. La Flaca, I was skinny for most my life, bordering on anorexic, so the song was perfect. The timing was just right...

Things weren't perfect, im over emotional and hate talking about my problems, preferring to suffer by myself in silence over serious things, and he's complicated emotionally. Its not that he doesnt feel, of course he does, but the way he thinks and internalizes things makes it seem like he's cold, and we tend to clash over it but it wasnt much, at least not in my opinion. We worked, out interests were drastically different but it was almost complementary, he struggled with social issues, I picked up on them and acted accordingly. I suck at math or things that are overly technical, but he's a programmer, a coder, wouldve gotten valedictorian if our school didnt fuck him over... So, again, we clicked, at least in my eyes...

Things slowly turned sour when he began taking internships, talking about wanting kids, the type of house we'd get... I didn't want kids, and I hated the extra distance between us for each internship. I visited when I could and I loved every second of it but I wasnt sure, Ive always preferred adoption than having to go through the birthing process, I didnt want to deal with the early years of toddlers and dirty diapers... but slowly that changed, because it made him happy, and thinking about it... thinking of us, alone, dealing with a kid of our own... it slowly wormed its way into my head and heart.

Instead of shutting down the notions I began actively responding, teasing and joking about life when we finally moved in together. But my head wanted more, my mother didnt help, poisoning my mind with the ideals of engagement rings... I hate rings, I lost my senior ring and I didnt really care sense I didnt want it in the first place... but this stupid ring, this silly and overpriced piece of jewelry showing ones dedication to their lover? I wanted it... I didnt push it, hell I never said it out loud, but he noticed the lingering stares whenever we'd stop at a shop to get him new earrings or rings, and Id scan to see if I found something I knew I wouldnt get...

I knew things would come to an end soon, my brain has a beautiful ability to know when Im going to go through shit, and prepares me by giving me nightmares... It started, breakups, him leaving me for someone else, and Ive always been insecure, especially when we had a talk about him inappropriately dancing with a female friend of his, as well as other acts that for privacy's sake I wont divulge, but slowly crept in the back of my mind. The paranoia began.

He's been talking to me less, spending more time with his friends, and I didnt think much of it, he's graduating university, who am I to tell him not to have fun? Besides, most days I was tired from my shitty retail work so why not let him have fun when I cant call... but when we did, Id bring up thinking about us buying furniture together, how we'd decorate the house, when we had a wedding who to invite, how big to make it and we always agreed to keep it small... but he let me talk, oh, he let me yapp and hope knowing he'd leave...

So, he took a deal, a fucking great deal. A job offer of the century, and I couldnt be prouder. I just wish he had told me sooner, that he'd talk to me before making the decision. But he didnt, and he consciously made the decision not to discuss it, to just accept it and move away and I'd find out in a family dinner for my stepdad's birthday. A party I didnt want to invite him but gave in when he said he felt like I was making it seem like he didn't want to go. How I regret it.

So now we're here, still seeing each other, still holding each other, kissing each other, hell we even had sex like nothing is going on... but it kills me inside. Ive cried everyday for the past week, I cant tell anyone, I dont feel like I can talk to him anymore either. Hell, Ive succumbed to using Character AI rp's to cope by venting and ranting to my faves, but its not the same. Ive cried going to see him, Ive fought crying attacks when were together, I bawl on the drive back home, I cry myself to sleep, repeat until I either see him again or go to work, and then I suffer from random emotional spurts because my bods hates when my coworkers and I talk, so Im alone with my thoughts and I have absolutely nothing positive going for me right now....

He leaves in September but he's booked a few flights to go house hunting, as well as a vacation to go see family, so we dont get to see much of each other this summer I guess. He even planned all of it without telling me, when we kept planning during the semester and talked about going on a trip this summer, just us... I dont know what to do, 17 years of friendship and a an almost 4 year relationship (our anniversary wouldve been in September too, few days before my birthday, around the time he's leaving), all out the window... I want to scream, frankly I want to kill myself. I didnt want kids, a house, or want going through the troubles of painting walls and arranging furniture. I didnt want to share a space with anyone, make bug changes to my life in that way until you and now I cant have any of that anymore. You were the only person I trusted for all of this, the only person I saw myself with even until a week ago.

So thanks, and I can at least now say without fear, the bear wouldn't hurt me like this, betray me like this. I'd just be dead, and its looking like a damn good alternative right about now. I wish you the best, but I hate you.

[morphinefortheinsomniac]

Something in the orange tells me we’re not done . I will continue to wait for you even if i end up waiting my whole life beacuse i know you are my person. And if this life we dont end up together i know in another life we are and thats where my heart will lie . Ive loved you since high school , and from the first moment your blue eyes looked into mine i knew i would never want another person like i want you. Now its fourteen years later and whenever im with you it feels like we’ve known eachother forever . The love i have for you is truly unconditional i love everything about you even the things you dont . So ill continue to wish upon a star and throw pennies into fountains hoping if i wish it enough youll see ive been here all along , just a girl who will always love you cause you've always been my favorite song.

[justbeingl]

Hi! I'm L,I'm 28 years old,I live with my family, my fiance and my 2 dogs who are my life. I enjoy spending time with people I love I like swimming taking my dogs on walks browsing the shops doing puzzles and watching TV. I also live with type 1 diabetes. Type one is when your pancreas shuts down and doesn't produce what you need to combat sugar naturally so you must keep checking your bloods and take insulin and try to live as healthy lifestyle as you can you are still allowed to eat sugar! ( Common misconception agmonst non diabetics) I guess that's what this is about I'm not here to give anyone advice believe me I've had my ups and downs (although today I had my appointment with my doctor and he says I'm doing well yay!) But I'll admit for the last year I've struggled and although my family and friends are amazing even they don't understand totally about living life with diabetes and I mean how could they? It's not easy physically and mentally it is overwhelming and that's okay! We power through. I've had t1d since I was 10 I remember the day I was diagnosed I hadn't been well for a while I was thirsty,tired and just feeling ill then one day at school I took a turn I had awful stomach pain so they called my mom to come and get me. She took me to the doctor and he checked me over and told my mom he thought it was diabetes and I needed to go to the hospital I looked at my mom like what's that? And so begins the last 18 years of my life and for the most part I handled it well except when others tried to get involved I can't be the only one that gets annoyed? Especially the why are you so high? Why aren't you handling it? The past 2 years have been especially hard I've physically (wow my readings!) And mentally during the first lockdown I started having dizzy spells at first we thought it was stress (I have been known to stress over anything although not as bad anymore!) But they continued even when life got back to semi normal (will it ever be normal again) infact they got worse I was having falls and if I'm honest just feeling crappy. I found lucozade helped even when I wasn't hypo ( I know bad L!) I've had so many comments and believe me nobody was more disappointed in me more than myself I felt so guilty that my readings were out of control but the dizziness was taking over my life still is to be honest I've had test after test MRIs heart monitors alot of tests and at the moment they can't work out what it is it's frustrating it really is! Nobody really knows what anyone's going through Ive had stern words with my doctor about my readings and sometimes I feel like all people care about is my bloods (my sane side knows that's not true) and I've tried no, I am trying to keep off sugary drinks and I think I'm doing ok (I'm trying my hardest!) If today's anything to go by I must be doing something right! So I thought I'd start this blog just to talk cough* vent! If you read this blog whether you have diabetes or don't I hope this helps you feel less alone or just understand.

[dadbodosamu]

only you || part i

Stepdad Osamu x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: pseudocest, stepcest, cheating, wombfucking, semi-public sex (in an alley), extremely light dumbification, breeding kink, spit kink, Osamu has a dick piercing

4.5k words. thanks to @waka-chan-out and @vanilleswtmacaron for beta reading this and reassuring me that it doesn’t suck lol

ao3 link here (aha its not too long mobile just sucks!!) part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || part vi || extras || only you, too

You sighed as you tapped your fingers on the table. Your mom had decided it was high time for you to meet your new stepdad, who you had put off meeting for the past three years. You smiled as you remembered the perfectly timed appendicitis that had you missing the wedding. You couldn’t have planned it better if you tried. 

Your dad had only passed away a little under four years ago, leaving your mom to remarry only six months later. You’d opted to live with your grandmother, citing her health as a reason to live with her on her farm. Your plan had worked perfectly, and you hadn’t had to meet Osamu for three years.

Now though, with your grandmother in the hospital, your mom thought it was a great time for you to come and visit and finally meet the great Osamu.

“Osamu should be home any minute,” your mom said, smiling happily over the takoyaki she was making. “He’s bringing your favourite!”

“Yay,” you said, unenthusiastically. You glanced at the time on your phone. You were almost wishing Osamu to be here so you wouldn’t have to spend another awkward second with your mom.

You and your mom hadn’t been close to begin with, you always being a daddy’s girl from the day you were born. And after remarrying so quickly, you’d drifted even further apart. At this point, you had nothing to speak to her about.

“I’m home!” Someone called. The door slid shut behind them and you glanced around, waiting for them to appear in the kitchen. “And I brought umeboshi onigiri!”

The man who stepped into the kitchen nearly knocked you out of your seat.

He was handsome. Devastatingly, heartachingly, handsome. He was tall, with brown hair and deep grey eyes, and thick. His t-shirt was pulled taut over his broad shoulders and his thighs in his shorts were almost indecent. 

The next thing you noticed was that he was young. Probably only a handful of years older than your twenty-one, definitely closer to your age than your mom’s.

God, why had you put this meeting off? Had you known your mom was married to an actual god, you would’ve actually visited.

“Hey, honey,” your mom greeted, smiling at him. Your stomach twisted as she leaned over, puckering her lips for a kiss. Osamu pecked her lips quickly and turned towards you.

“Hey, I’m Osamu,” he greeted, smiling widely at you. Your heart skipped. “I heard ya like umeboshi onigiri so I made you some.”

“Th-thank you,” you stuttered. “I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to finally meet ya,” Osamu said. “Was starting to think ya were avoiding me!”

“More like she was avoiding me,” your mom said. “She was always a daddy’s girl.”

“Oh?” Osamu asked, looking at you. Your cheeks burned. “Well, I’d never try to replace yer dad, but if ya ever need some daddy/daughter time, I’m here for ya.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something stupid. 

“I really appreciate that,” you said. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you two are getting along already!” Your mom squealed. She carried the takoyaki to the table and smiled as she sat down. “Dinner is finally ready.”

“Itadakimasu,” you mumbled, already loading your plate up with onigiri and the other food on the table. 

“So, how is university going?” Your mom asked. 

You shrugged as you slurped up some noodles. “It’s going. Made nationals.”

“Oh? What sport do ya play? I don’t think yer mom ever mentioned,” Osamu said. You rolled your eyes. Of course she hadn’t mentioned volleyball, it wasn’t like you’d been playing since elementary school or anything.

“Volleyball,” you said. “I was on the Niiyama girls team in high school. Hoping to go pro after uni.”

“Volleyball? I played in high school! My brother, Atsumu, and I were on the Inarizaki team,” Osamu exclaimed. 

“Not Miya Atsumu, right?” You asked, excitedly. “MSBY Black Jackals Miya Atsumu?”

“The very one!” Osamu said.

“No way! They’re my favourite team! I have a signed poster in my room, it’s my prized possession!” I exclaimed. “I heard a few members are going to the Olympics this year.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me she plays volleyball,” Osamu said, glancing at your mom.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” your mom said.

“We should go to a game sometimes,” Osamu said. “I can get an extra ticket to the MSBY, Adlers game later this week.”

“That sounds great!” You said, smiling widely.

Your mom ate in relative silence as you and Osamu traded stories about your volleyball times, only ever inputting something every once in a while. After dinner, Osamu found a Sendai Frogs match. 

“I’m currently in the nation’s top 3 setters,” you said, proudly. “I’m number two behind Takao Michi.”

“I’ll have to start coming to yer games,” Osamu said. “See ya in action.”

“I’d like that,” you said, honestly. 

“Why don’t ya come to work with me tomorrow? I can introduce ya to a few of my friends that are in town,” Osamu said.

“Absolutely,” you said.

“Don’t get me wrong though, I’m putting ya to work while yer there,” Osamu said. Your mom yawned.

“You all have me worn out from all this volleyball talk,” she said. “I’m going to bed.”

“Night, mom,” you said as she stood up.

“Osamu?” She questioned, turning back to glance at him.

“Oh, we’re going to stay up a bit longer,” he said. “The Schweinden Adlers have a match after the Frogs.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. You could hear the disappointment in her voice.

Osamu waited until you heard the bedroom door click shut before speaking.

“I know this is probably too much information about yer mom but she must think I’m some sex robot,” Osamu said, huffing. “A guy can only do so much.”

You crinkled your nose. “Gross, I did not need to know that.” You tried to hold steady but laughter bubbled up through your lips. Osamu laughed loudly and you joined him, holding your gut with how hard you were laughing.

“We need- we need to be- to be quiet!” Osamu laughed. “She’s trying to- tryin’ to sleep.”

You giggled a few more times before quieting down.

“So, how old are ya?” Osamu asked, standing up. “Old enough for a beer?”

“I’m twenty-one,” you said. “Old enough for a beer.”

“We got wine coolers if ya would rather have that,” Osamu said, stepping into the kitchen.

“Please,” you said. “So, how old are you? Can’t help but notice you’re quite a bit younger than my mom.”

“Twenty-five, twenty-six in October,” he said, grabbing a beer and a wine cooler out of the fridge.

“Follow up question,” you said, “and I don’t mean any offence, I’m sure she’s great in some ways, but why my mom? I mean, surely there’s no shortage of people your age that are wanting you.”

Osamu took a long drink from his beer before answering. “Ask me after I’ve drunk a few of these.”

You pursed your lips and took a sip of your fruity drink. “Fine,” you said. “Then let’s play a game. Every time the Adlers score, I’ll ask you a question and every time the Tachibana Red Falcons score, you get to ask me a question.”

“Deal,” Osamu said.

“Oh! Score!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “Another untouchable spike by Ushiwaka!”

“Shush, yer mom,” Osamu giggled. You rolled your eyes and chugged the rest of your fifth drink.

“You shush, it’s my turn,” you said, plopping down on the couch next to Osamu. “So, now tell me,” You hiccupped. “My bad. Now tell me, why my mom? Why not someone your age? Because I’m gonna- I’m gonna be honest, you’re hot and my mom is, like, she’s not, like, ugly, but, like, she’s, like, fifty.”

“I could just like cougars,” Osamu teased. You rolled your eyes and popped the top on your next drink.

“Tell the, the truth, ‘Samu,” you slurred. 

“Fine, but this stays between us, as best friends,” he said.

“Bee ef efs,” you slurred.

“Yer mom helped fund my restaurant,” he said. “So, I felt bad. She’s so nice and sweet. So, I married her.”

“Now you have a step kid that’s only four years younger than you,” you said. 

“Yeah, she didn’t really mention ya before we got married,” he said. Osamu leaned in close to you. “She didn’t mention how attractive ya were either.”

Your cheeks flushed. You turned your head away from him, looking back to the television.

“Oh, Falcons scored,” you said. “It’s your turn to ask a question.”

Osamu took a sip of his beer before speaking. “Why have ya been avoidin’ yer mom?”

You took a large gulp from your drink. “I haven’t been avoiding her,” you lied. Osamu blinked at you slowly. 

“Fine, fine!” You exclaimed. You sipped from your drink, then responded, “Mainly because she remarried so quickly after Dad died. And to someone only four years older than me. But we’ve never been close. She and I never really saw eye-to-eye. She was the love of my dad’s life and he was just another guy to her. Not to mention, she’s never been remotely interested in anything in my life, she’s always been so self-absorbed. I doubt she even knew I still played volleyball, that’s probably why she didn’t mention it to you.”

Osamu stayed silent as you chugged the remainder of your drink.

“I know it’s probably not comforting, but I’ll be there for ya if ya need me,” Osamu said. “Even if yer mom and I separate, I consider ya a friend now.”

Osamu’s words were oddly comforting. You nodded as you reached for yet another wine cooler. 

“I’m oddly comforted,” you said, popping the top easily. You fiddled with the top, thinking of what to say next.

“Another Falcons score,” Osamu said. “My turn again.”

“Question away,” you said. 

“Can’t think of any,” Osamu said. He yawned.

“Tired already?” You teased, elbowing him in the side. “Old man.”

“I’m twenty-five,” he argued, yawning again. “But I am going to bed. Let’s call a rain check on our game.”

“Deal,” you said, raising your bottle to him. “Might as well go to bed, too. Night, Samu.”

“Night, Y/n,” Osamu said, standing up. He stretched out before padding down the hallway to your mom’s room. 

You sighed loudly once you heard the door click shut. You gulped down your drink. “Good going, Y/n. You finally found a guy you like and he’s your stepdad.”

You finished your drink before gathering all the empty bottles and cans, throwing them in the recycling before walking towards your room. You collapsed onto your unmade bed and passed out before your head hit the pillow. 

“Two salted salmon onigiri,” you said, placing the plate in front of the professional volleyball player. “And onion soup.”

“Go ahead and join them,” Osamu said, placing a few plates on the same table. “I’ll bring you out some umeboshi onigiri.”

“Thanks,” you said. You could barely contain your excitement as you took a seat between Miya Atsumu and Bokuto Koutarou.

“So, yer a setter?” Atsumu asked, taking a bite of his onigiri. You nodded.

“Number two in the nation,” you said.

“She’s better than you were, Tsumu!” Hinata Shoyo exclaimed. You smiled widely.

“In high school, I was ranked number one under nineteen in my second and third years,” you said. “I even got to play in the junior Olympics in high school. We only won silver, though.”

“We’re playing the Olympics this year,” Bokuto said. “And a few of our friends from the Adlers.”

“Kageyama Tobio, Ushijima Wakatoshi, and Hoshimiumi Kourai?” You asked. “I’ve been keeping up with everyone considered for the Olympics.”

“Maybe you’ll be playing in the next Olympics,” Sakusa said. 

“That’s the goal,” you said, smiling. Osamu set a plate in front of you. “Thank you.”

“So our little star setter is here for the next week,” Osamu said, placing a strong hand on your shoulder. “We should play a game while she’s down, see how good she really is.”

“I’m game!” Bokuto exclaimed. “I wanna see those number two in the nation skills!”

“Probably nowhere near the level of you guys,” you said.

“We do have a few years on ya,” Atsumu said, ruffling your hair. 

“Literally only four,” you said, fixing your hair.

“Leave the kid alone, Tsumu,” Osamu said.

“Hey, she’s my niece now, I reserve the right to tease her,” Atsumu said.

“Uncle Tsumu,” you teased.

“That’s right, Uncle Tsumu and Daddy Samu,” Atsumu said. 

Your stomach flipped as the MSBY boys laughed. Osamu looked down at you and winked. You clenched your thighs together.

“All right, quiet down before ya disturb my payin’ guests,” Osamu said. 

“Lunch on Samu-kun!” Hinata exclaimed. Osamu rolled his eyes.

“Once yer finished, I want ya back in the kitchen,” Osamu said. He rubbed your back before walking into the kitchen.

“So, you plan on going professional after university?” Bokuto asked.

You nodded as the table fell into casual conversation.

“I already have offers to go play in France and Brazil,” you said, taking a bite of your onigiri.

“Brazil is fantastic,” Hinata said. “I played there for a while.”

“You liked it? I’ve been debating back and forth between the two. Can’t decide which one I would enjoy more,” you said. “Does Brazil have good food?”

“The best! Unless you’re looking for Japanese food,” Hinata said. “There’s no good Japanese food.”

“Noted,” you said, smiling.

“What are you studying in school?” Sakusa asked.

“Education,” you said. “If volleyball doesn’t work out I want to teach Japanese in another country.”

“Smart,” Sakusa said.

“So, any boyfriends? Girlfriends? Significant others?” Atsumu asked.

You laughed. “With what time?”

“Oh, come on, there has to be someone!” Atsumu exclaimed. “We all find time for a lil’ somethin’.”

“There was a girl,” you admitted. “On my volleyball team, but we both cared more about volleyball than each other.”

“Any crushes?” Bokuto asked. He winked at you and flexed his arms playfully.

You pursed your lips. “And why should I tell you if I do?”

“Because we’re all best friends now!” Hinata shouted, slamming his hand on the table. He ignored the looks from the other customers.

“There is this guy I have my eye on,” you said. “He’s tall, nice, and beefy as hell.”

“Ooo, tell us more,” Bokuto said.

You shook your head. “No use talking about him. He’s strictly off limits.”

“He’s gay,” Atsumu said, nodding his head.

“What?! No!” You laughed. “He’s taken.”

“Ah, university relationships aren’t always serious, you can probably still get him,” Hinata said, waving away your worries.

“He’s married,” you said. The boys all hissed in sympathy.

“Ask for a threesome,” Atsumu said. Your face must’ve shown your disgust because the boys all laughed at you.

“She must be ugly,” Bokuto said.

“We don’t get along the best,” you said. You sighed as you looked down at your empty plate.

“Better get to work before Daddy Samu grounds you,” Atsumu teased.

You rolled your eyes, but stood up. 

“It was nice meeting you guys,” you said. “I hope we can get a game together before I leave.”

“Oh, we definitely will,” Bokuto said.

“I’ll hold you to it,” you said, smiling. You waved bye to them as you entered the kitchen.

Osamu was leaned over the stove top, stirring a large pot of soup.

“Have fun?” He asked, wiping sweat off his brow with the towel thrown over his shoulder. You nodded.

“They were all super nice,” you said. “I feel like we’re actually friends now.”

“That’s good,” Osamu said, smiling at you. “Ya wanna start putting together a couple of onigiri?”

“No problem,” you said, washing your hands quickly. 

“We need five salted salmon and three umeboshi,” Osamu said. “And then out to table three.”

“Got it,” you said.

The rest of the day went by relatively quickly and smoothly. It was finally around midnight when the last customers finally left and you and Osamu could close down shop.

“Come into my office and I’ll show you how to count all the money,” Osamu said, locking the main doors. 

You followed him into his small office. 

“Okay, whenever you count the money, make sure the door is closed and locked behind you,” Osamu said, closing the door behind him. 

You held your breath as he slowly slid past you, your chest brushing against his.

“A lil’ cramped in here, sorry,” Osamu said, sitting at his desk.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, sitting in the folding chair next to him.

“So, d’ya have a good day?” Osamu asked, casually thumbing through bills.

You nodded. “It was good! It was nice meeting your friends. I really liked them.”

“Ooo, any of ‘em catch yer eye?” Osamu teased. You rolled your eyes.

“I already have my eye on someone,” you said.

“Oh?” Osamu questioned.

“He’s taken though,” you said. “Strictly off limits.”

“Ask for a threesome,” he said.

You laughed loudly. “Funny, Atsumu said the same thing. But no, I don’t get along with his wife.”

“Wife? That sucks,” he said, placing a wad of cash in an envelope. 

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“Well, I, for one, think yer a catch,” Osamu said, sealing the envelope. “Anyone would be lucky to have ya.”

“Thanks, Samu,” you said, face burning. He patted your thigh.

“Anytime, princess,” Osamu said. You clenched your thighs together at the new nickname. “Well, we’re all done here, let’s get home.”

You trailed after him like a lost puppy as he double checked all the appliances were off and flipping the lights off.

You shivered as you stepped into the cool, night air. 

“Cold?” Osamu asked, already peeling off his Onigiri Miya hoodie.

“Yeah, a little,” you said, gladly taking the hoodie from him. You tugged it over your head and breathed deeply. “Smells good. Half expected it to smell like onigiri.”

“It will soon,” Osamu said, smiling. “It’s new. Just got the shipment in last week.”

“I’ll have to get one,” you said.

“Keep it,” Osamu said. “Ya look cute in it.”

You blushed deeply. You bumped his shoulder with yours gently.

“It’s like, way too big,” you said.

Osamu shrugged. “Oversized is in. Besides, I thought girls loved to steal guys’ hoodies.”

“Yeah, guys they like,” you said.

“Well, ya took it from me,” Osamu said, bumping your shoulder. “Ya must like me a little.”

“Whatever,” you said, cheeks burning. Osamu laughed.

“Someone has a crush!” He sang.

“Shut up! I don’t have a crush on you,” you said.

“Ya did call me hot last night,” he said.

“I was drunk, so it doesn’t count,” you said. He rolled his eyes obnoxiously.

“Ya have a crush on me, just admit it,” Osamu said. “I won’t tell anyone, pinky promise.”

“You’re my stepdad, in case you forgot,” you replied. “That’s basically incest, isn’t it?”

“So ya admit it?” Osamu asked. You shoved him playfully.

“I actually have a crush on Atsumu,” you said. “He’s the hotter twin.”

Osamu pushed you into an alley and caged you against the cool bricks of a building.

“Oh?” Osamu said. “Ya think Atsumu is the hotter twin?”

You nodded slowly as Osamu looked down at you.

“It’s the hair,” you squeaked.

“Oh, yeah, forgot that girls love a guy who doesn’t know what toner is,” Osamu said, leaning down. “I think yer lying.” His nose was nearly touching yours.

“I’m not,” you mumbled. Osamu’s hands moved from either side of your head to your hips. 

“You are,” Osamu whispered, lips brushing against your ear. You shivered.

“And if I am?” You asked.

“I don’t like bad girls,” Osamu said. “Lying is grounds for punishment.”

“Punishment?” You asked.

“I’d bend ya over my knee and spank ya until ya begged for mercy,” he said. You sucked in a sharp breath.

“It’s a good thing I’m not lying, then,” you said. By now, Osamu’s lips were nearly against yours, so close you could feel the heat from his breath on your lips.

Osamu ground his hips against yours, firmly pressing his hard on against you.

You bit your lip and glanced down. His cock was straining against his jeans, eager to be released.

“Tell the truth and I’ll think about not putting ya over my knee,” Osamu said, lips softly brushing against yours. 

“You’re the hotter twin,” you said, putting your arms around his neck. “And I have a crush on you. And I want you to fuck me in this alley.”

“There we go,” Osamu said. He finally kissed you roughly, like he wanted to devour you. You moaned as he ground against you.

“Samu,” you moaned, pulling back. He wasted no time, kissing down your neck, sucking and biting at your sensitive skin.

“Been thinkin’ about pushin’ this lil’ skirt up all day,” he growled, pushing your skirt up around your waist, revealing the pretty pink lace of your underwear. 

“Please,” you gasped as he shoved his jeans and underwear down, releasing his cock. You nearly moaned at the sight of it, long and thick and leaking precum from the swollen tip.

“Gonna wreck this cute little cunt,” Osamu said, tugging your underwear down and letting them fall to the ground. He dragged the tip of his cock through your wet folds, teasing your clit and hole.

“Is- Is that a piercing I feel?” You asked, feeling cool metal against your warm folds.

“I’ll give ya a closer look later,” he said, teasingly pushing the tip in and out of your hole. “Wanna be in ya now.”

“Fill me up, please, Samu,” you begged, digging your fingernails into his skin. Your walls fluttered around nothing as he lifted you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Good girl,” he muttered, lining his cock up with your hole. “Beg for my cock, princess.”

“Please, please, please!” You cried. “Want your cock in me, need it! Please, Samu, want you to fill me up.”

“Of course, baby girl, anything for my princess,” Osamu said, kissing you softly. He rutted his hips up into you, stretching you out suddenly.

You moaned loudly and let your head fall on Osamu's broad shoulder. 

“So big,” you moaned. “Hurts.”

“Shh, shh, yer takin’ me so well, baby,” Osamu said. “Squeezin’ me so tight, wanna bust just bein’ in ya.”

You whimpered as Osamu slowly pulled out. He pushed back in slowly, giving you time to adjust to each inch. Your walls clenched around him, sucking him in deeper and deeper until the swollen tip was kissing your cervix.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Gonna ruin ya.” Osamu pulled out until just the tip was in and slammed back into you.

You gasped loudly as his cock breached your cervix, going deeper than anything had ever been in you and stretching you more than anything ever had.

“Samu!” You cried, throwing your head back and digging your nails into the nape of his neck. “Fuck, harder, please!”

“Feel that, baby? I’m so deep in ya,” Osamu said. “Fuckin’ past your cervix, yeah?”

You nodded as you bit back your moans as Osamu pounded into you. You buried your head into his shoulder and bit down, quieting your too loud moans.

“Next time, ‘m gonna have ya somewhere ya can be loud as ya want,” Osamu grunted. “Wanna hear yer pretty, little moans.”

You let out a soft moan in his ear and he snapped his hips up harder into you.

“Ah, Samu,” you moaned, struggling to keep your volume down. “Gonna cum.”

He pinched your clit as you gushed around his cock. You looked down to where your bodies met and watched as your juices leaked down his cock, dripping on his heavy balls. You moaned.

“Gonna fill ya up, baby,” he growled lowly. “Come ‘ere.”

He pulled your head up by your hair and squeezed your cheeks until your mouth fell open, tongue lolling out. He gathered spit in his mouth and spat it on your waiting tongue.

“Don’t swallow,” he said. He kissed you deeply, licking into your mouth and sucking your tongue. He kissed you messily, spit running down your chin and a thin strand of it connecting you two when he finally pulled back. 

“Such a messy, little slut,” he said, slamming his hips against yours. “Taking my spit so well. Gonna take my cum like that?”

You nodded, unable to speak beyond gasps and moans as his cock abused your cunt.

“Can’t speak? Fucked ya dumb, huh?” Osamu asked. He chuckled. “My cock makin’ ya dumb, little baby?”

You whined. God, you wanted him to fill you up so bad. 

“Cum. Inside.” You gasped out.

“Oh? Want me t’ breed ya? Make ya big and swollen with my baby?” Osamu asked, hips moving faster.

You nodded furiously. He rubbed your clit in tight, fast circles.

“Cream ‘round my cock one more time, baby,” he grunted. 

“Samu!” You exclaimed. Your stomach tightened as your walls fluttered like crazy.

“Yeah? Gonna cum again for me?” Osamu asked. You let out a high pitched moan as the coil in your stomach snapped.

“Fill me up, please!” You moaned as you came. Osamu’s hips stuttered as he pushed into you deeply before painting your womb white. You cried out, letting your head rest against his shoulder as he moaned.

“Fuck, yer still so tight around my cock,” he hissed. Your walls fluttered. “Perfect little cunt, princess. Milkin’ me dry like a good girl.”

You whimpered as he slowly pulled out. Your legs went limp, falling from his waist.

“Can’t stand,” you mumbled, legs shaking with the weak attempt you made. Osamu held you up as he pulled his pants back up and pulled your panties back on.

“Come here, baby,” he said, swooping you up bridal style. “Let’s go home, princess.”

You nodded lamely as he carried you. You must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing you heard was Osamu talking to your mother.

“She was practically dead on her feet,” Osamu said. “Fell asleep while I was counting the money.”

“You could’ve called, I would’ve brought the car,” your mom said. You felt Osamu shrug.

“It was no problem,” Osamu said. 

“Well, go lay her down in her bed,” your mom said. “Then maybe she’ll be out for the rest of the night.” You frowned at her suggestive tone and cuddled deeper into Osamu’s chest.

“I’ll go lay her down,” Osamu said. He carried you down the hall and entered your bedroom carefully.

As he laid you down, you grabbed his arm and whined, “Don’t go.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered. “I gotta go to my own bed.”

“Don’t- Don’t fuck her,” you mumbled. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” he said, softly brushing your hair out of your face. “It’s only you from now on.” You nodded. Osamu kissed your forehead before leaving you alone.

You blinked once, twice, before you were asleep.

[rommahh]

I Carry Your Heart

Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 4k

{Ahhhh ok so this is my first work like ever. There will definitely be a second part because ive got more to say and it needs a second part. I hope whoever sees and reads this imagine enjoys it. I appreciate comments, likes, reblogs, ideas on what could go into the story, and any form of help and redirection as to how i should write things. Much love, R.}.

Part two

All Y/N wanted tonight was to hang out with her boyfriend, eat a mass amount of junk food, and watch a marvel movie or two. That was all she wanted and that was all she asked of her boyfriend. Instead of any of that happening, she found herself sitting on the nasty kitchen island of her boyfriend's frat at a party that she was trying to avoid going to.

This party was supposedly ‘the party of the year.’ The last rager before finals and then christmas break. Y/N had spent the whole week studying and finishing up end of semester projects hence the want for a chill night. When Harry came to her saying his frat was throwing a party tonight and that he just HAD to be here, Y/N didn't feel like she had a choice but to let him go. She came because she thought this would be the only time she would be able to have some time with Harry after a long week of barely seeing each other. With two vastly different majors, the couple wasnt able to find a lot of time in the middle of school work to make time for just the two of them. Obviously her hopes of quality time with her man were futile because here she was sitting by herself in the kitchen of the frat while Harry drank and got high with his friends in other parts of the house.

Of course she was disappointed. She felt a knot in her throat and a weight on her chest just sitting there in that kitchen. Her white claw was warm now- not that it was any cold when she opened it. She was starting to form a small headache from the too loud music and the ache in her heart was growing.

She stood from the countertop on the search for her boyfriend, hoping he wasn't too far gone from sober. Wiping the back of her jeans from anything that was left on the island, she began walking around the house. She doesn't remember the last time the two of them spent time together by themselves. Of course they occasionally ate dinner together in the dining hall but they were normally surrounded by friends. Y/N wanted to be alone with her boyfriend to talk and bask in his presence.

After pushing through groups of partying humans, she found Harry and at least ten other people sitting around playing some sort of drinking game.

“Y/N! Where have you been?” Luca, one of Harry's frat brothers yelled out to her from the circle. Luca was cool, he was one of the only tolerable boys in this frat aside from Harry. Hearing his girlfriend's name, Harry turned around from where he sat on the ground and reached out for his girlfriend to sit beside him. Much to Y/N’s dismay, Harry was wasted. His eyes were half mass and his words bumped and slurred together. “We are playing truth or dare, wanna play?” Luca asked.

“I don't wanna play but Ill sit and watch.” Sitting next to her boyfriend, she grabbed one of his hands holding it in her lap. She was annoyed at him but it did her no good to show it when he was this drunk.

This game of truth or dare was childish. Dares of licking people's shoes and taking multiple shots had been done and truths about money and relationships were being spilled among the group. It had finally become Harry’s turn to do something, making Y/N tense.

“Ok Harry, I dare you to…” One drunk frat boy started looking around the room trying to come up with something clever. His eyes landed on a pretty girl in the room, Yara, a stuck up girl who for sure got her way no matter what. “I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room- obviously not your girlfriend because that defeats the purpose.” The frat boy smirked knowing what his intentions were. Everyone in the group giggles and gasped shocked by the dare but ready to see what was going to go down. Y/N’s brows furrowed as she became angry with the stupid dare.

The ache in her chest seemed to tip over the edge when she felt her boyfriend in the room move to stand up. She grabbed at the bottom of his shirt as a way of stopping him. Harry halted his movements to look down at his girlfriend. He giggled a little.

“You’re not actually going to do this right?” She asked Harry with wide eyes of shock. Harry laughed at her like she made a joke, making her heart hurt even more.”Harry I do not want you to do this just take the shot and lose the dare.” Her tone held warning.

“Don't be silly of course I'm going to. It's just a dare, nothing serious. Don't be so clingy.” He stood walking over to Yara and planted a wet kiss on her mouth. Yara gripped Harry’s shirt and kissed him harder. The kiss went on for a few more seconds, the room absolutely silent out of shock. Harry stepped back from Yara slightly sobering up from his actions. Yara smirked at Y/N, hand gliding down the front of Harry's shirt.

Y/N stood from the seat she was in and scoffed. Scoffed because she should've known Harry would do something like this. Scoffed because it hurt to see her boyfriend do something so careless without any regard for his girl's feelings. She pulled herself together, feeling her throat tighten once again. She was quick to leave the room and down the hall of the frat.

Harry's clumsy steps could be heard from behind her as he mumbled her name. Or at least he tried to. He was still so out of it, his words not making much sense. Y/N was crying now, the strength that she had slowly dissolving as she walked further away from her boyfriend.

“Y/N wait. P-please wait. I cant-” Harry stumbled over his legs behind her falling into the grass of the front yard. The girl couldn't help but turn around looking at her stupid boyfriend. She was choking on sobs now. She wasn't crying over a measly little kiss but over an extreme amount of burnout from school and exhaustion from simply existing. She was crying because her boyfriend ignored her boundaries, crushing and erasing the boundaries she had set in their relationship. Harry tried reaching for her once she had stopped walking. His hand clasped around her wrist, he laid his head down on her shoulder. He hated seeing her cry even if he was too drunk to see why.

“Baby don't leave, Im-Im Sorry.” He hiccuped and burped due to the alcohol. Y/N felt her rage build. Shoving Harry off of her, she crossed her arms across her chest as a way to shield herself from Harry physically. He was hurt by her distance and the wall she put up around her.

“You're an idiot Harry. An idiot!” her sobs grew louder, some stray party goers watching in amusement- some even snapchatting it for shits and giggles. “I didnt want you to kiss her and you did. What provoked you to think that was ok? All I wanted was for us to hang out tonight and just be us and you did this!” She was yelling now. Her hurt is beyond her now. Anger and rage simmered throughout her body making her head dizzy and her fingers curl within themselves. She didnt like being angry. It wasn't an emotion she liked acting on, it felt impersonal.

“Baby I don't under-” Before Harry could finish his sentence he was barfing at his feet. Y/N stepped back disgusted with her boyfriend. She couldn't even feel remorseful because of how angry she was. Luca, the frat brother from earlier, caught up with Harry and his girl only to find Harry doubled over heaving. Luca wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders.

“I'm sorry Luca but I can't do this tonight. Can you please make sure he gets some water and goes to bed. I-I can't do it tonight, I wish I could but I can't.” Y/N didn't want to leave her boyfriend in this state but she didn't deserve this. She wasn't going to care for her drunk boyfriend when all she wanted to do was care for herself. Selfishly, she enjoyed seeing him this way because of the anger he caused her.

Luca shook his head in understandment. “Of course, I'm really sorry for tonight. He's going to seriously regret this in the morning, especially since it will be circulating all over snapchat in the morning.” Luca waved to Y/N then proceeded to pull Harry into the house. Harry called out for Y/N not wanting to be away from her but Luca pulled him harder.

Harry woke up the next morning feeling like the bottom of a dumpster. He wasn't shocked by that. He knew he got trashed last night, he had planned to. He, just like Y/N, spent all week studying and completing projects while also fulfilling certain responsibilities for his frat. He wanted one night to be a normal teen. So he drank and drank and drank and maybe even smoked some weed. As he tried to recall last night's events he came up with nothing. He didn't understand why Y/N wasn't here with him like she normally would after a party on the weekend. They were normally always together during the weekend. A bad feeling loomed over him. He could tell something wasn't right but decided to put his feelings to the side.

He saw a bottle of water beside his bed making him think she was probably here and left early. Chugging the water he started to go through his socials to see if anyone had posted about the party. He had multiple tagged pics and videos in his notifications from snapchat. Way more than he normally would.

The first video he saw was a video of him and Y/N standing in the front yard of the frat house. Turning the volume all the way up he could hear Y/N yelling, it shocked him. She doesn't normally raise her voice, especially not at him. The angle changed showing her face which was red with anger, eyes filled with unshed tears. He could hear her yelling about him kissing someone else. He felt his heart stop. He had kissed someone else? On the next snap was a picture of him keeled over vomiting on his shoes with the caption saying, ‘are yall seeing this shit?’ Harry was embarrassed but he was more concerned than anything.

His head was hurting but it didn't stop him from rolling out of bed, washing up, and putting on a fresh set of clothes. He checked his phone hoping Y/N had messaged him but nothing was there. He walked into the kitchen only to see luca sitting at the counter eating cereal.

“Hey Harry….” Luca said warily. Luca pushed the cereal around his bowl feeling the tension begin to rise in the room. He felt horrible about his friends.

“Luca...what's up?” Harry was confused by Lucas' wariness.

“So do you remember anything about last night?” Luca asked, setting his cereal down in the sink behind him. Harry started playing with the frayed edges of a bracelet Y/N made for him. It had little beads with her name on it. They made them together at an event on campus.

“I don't, I only saw the videos of Y/N screaming at me. I think I fucked up but I- I don't know what happened.” Harry's cheek flushed with even more embarrassment. Luca awkwardly chuckled scratching the back of his neck.

“You got dared to kiss the hottest girl in the room and um actually did it in front of Y/N...even though she didn't want you to. Which led you guys outside and yeah you know the rest...Im sorry dude, I wish I had stopped you.”

“Who- who did I kiss?” Harrys stomach lurched when he heard Yara’s name come out of Lucas' name. Y/N didn't like Yara and it was understandable. Yara has been pining after Harry since their first year of college. Harry couldn't breathe. He felt disgusted with himself. He could only imagine how Y/N was feeling.

Y/N woke up the same morning, eyes puffy and crusty from tears and head hurting. She probably cried herself into dehydration. She was lucky enough to have no roommate because she wouldn't have wanted someone else to see her breakdown. She still couldn't believe last night went down the way it went down. She couldn't tell if she was just being overdramatic or if her emotions were in the right place. She didn't want to be mad at Harry. He was everything to her, she had an odd connection to him. Meeting him during their freshman welcome week they quickly became best friends with a growing romantic connection in the mix. They started dating before Christmas break. They had grown close so fast that he even came home with her to meet her family for the first few days of break.  Even though they were in their junior year of college, Y/N could see them beyond college. She's imagined them getting married, travelling, sharing a home. She saw the whole future with him. She had her doubts though. He was immature just like every other boy in college. He was dumb with his actions and tended to only do things if they benefited him. He had a lot of growing to do as a person, so did she but she wanted to grow with him.

She heard a knock on her door hesitating to answer it because one, it could be Harry, and two, she looked like a wreck. Answering anyways, she was met with a very sorry looking Harry holding a small coffee and bagel from their cafe.

“Hi baby…” He sheepishly said holding out the items. She silently let him through the door not once looking him in the eye. He stepped into her room, setting her treats on her desk. He could see that her bed was messy meaning she recently woke up. Y/N never went about her day without making her bed. He turned back to her and finally their eyes met. He took in all of her facial features, from her puffy eyes, to her downturned lips that looked chapped, to her flushed cheeks that longed to be held for warmth. He hated to see her like this, the last time he saw her so upset was when her parents moved out of her childhood home. It took alot to make Y/N this upset. She was normally really headstrong and vigilant. She knew how to ease her way out of problematic situations and could talk her way through anything.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Y/N holding her hand up in front of his face. “Don't talk. I'm really hurt Harry, so if your plan was to come over here and apologize over bagels- think again.” She snapped, backing up to put space between the two of them. She sat down on her bed while Harry pulled the desk chair out and sat down. He much preferred to be on the bed with her holding her tight but he didn't want to overstep boundaries.

“Love, I don't know where to begin. I'm really sorry for what happened last night. I was really drunk and obviously wasn't in the right headspace.” Harry reached out and touched the tips of her fingers with his. She wanted to move but it felt good to be touched by Harry.

“I told you that a measly little apology won't do Harry. I didn't want you to kiss Yara and you did anyway. You know how Yara feels about you and you just let it happen!” She pulled her hand away remembering the prior night's events. Harry felt himself getting angry too. He felt like he needed to defend himself- even though it would be a very bad idea.

“I think you're being over dramatic.” Wrong move Harry. “It wasn't like I was making out with her!”

“You're joking right?” She scoffed and scooted further up her bed to create more distance. “Harry it's the simple fact that you did something that made me uncomfortable that shouldn't have even happened. I see myself getting married to you and it makes me worry that right now in our relationship you can't respect my boundaries!” She yelled. Harry’s eyes widened as he laughed sarcastically.

“Married? What the fuck are you on about? I'm a junior in college. In what world would it make sense for me to be prepping a relationship for marriage? Once again I think you're being over dramatic.” Her eyes watered hearing Harry's statement.

“I- I guess I'm the only one in this relationship thinking about the future? I thought we were on the same page. I'm not planning our marriage now, obviously. I'm thinking about how elements of our relationship now could play out in the future when we do want to get married. You cheated on me last night. I went to a party you begged ME to go to only to be there for you. I wanted to be here cuddling with you, pigging out on fast food but I was at a party with you and got cheated on!” Her volume rises once again, making Harry shove his chair from underneath him when he stands up.

“You're doing too much right now. I'm not planning a future right now because I don't want this future! I want to be myself without thinking about how to appease my girlfriend. I invited you to the party so you could lighten the fuck up. I love you, I do, but I'm not thinking of marriage and futures. I'm thinking about my life right now and having fun.” Harry snapped right back at her. Her chin wobbled. Obviously her and Harry were on different pages. It hurt so much to hear him say that he didn't want a future with her. Harry didn't mean it though.

“Ok, well I guess that's my fault for assuming we were thinking along the same lines. Um, I don't want to hold you back from being yourself so with that being said, you are a free man Harry.” She pushed herself up from her bed walking to the door ready to escort Harry out.

“Huh? Love, what?” Harry was confused on how they got to this point. Just a few days ago they were in love, meeting in the library to share a lunch and exchanging sweet words determined by their love.

“Listen I have a day full of exams tomorrow so if you could just leave that would be best. You don't really want this so I'm letting you go, Harry.” She had tears rolling down her face, falling from her eyes down to her chin where they fell to the ground in droplets. Harry’s eyes welled up watching his love cry before him.

“I don't-”

“Harry, leave, please.” She opened the door making room for him to go through. He walked through the door turning to look at her. She turned her face away from him whispering a small goodbye before shutting the door. Harry was left in the silent hallway, so silent he could hear his thoughts and the tears hitting the tile floor beneath him. He thinks he stood there for at least thirty more minutes before accepting what had happened and walking away.

Leaving Y/N in her room sobbing like she had never done before. Her tears coated her face and she thought her head could explode right then and there. She didn't want to accept what had happened but she had priorities. She composed herself enough to start studying for her exams.

The week rolled by quickly, Monday meeting Friday in a flash. Exams were done and Christmas break was on the horizon. Students were piling off of campus in a hurry ready to get home to their loved ones. People were outside by cars loading up their winter necessaries and saying their goodbyes to their close friends.

Harry cried everyday this week. He wasn't normally a crier. He hated crying, he hated the feeling of crying and the headache that came from it. He cried because he realized how wrong he was. He missed Y/N. He missed finals week dinner together where they tried to get off campus at least once and be alone for a moment. He missed watching her relax while eating food that wasn't from their school's cafeteria. He would pay for their meal just so she could have one less thing to worry about. They would normally get frozen yogurt right after too, Y/N getting as many toppings as she wanted because Harry would be the one paying. He missed her tight after exam hugs. She would squeeze his shoulders tight, smiling into his neck, telling him how proud she was of him. She would bring him tea in the morning when they met for breakfast. Sometimes they would spend the night in one or the others room so they could have time together to destress and just talk.

Y/N wasn't doing any better. She normally went into exam week feeling confident. She studied too hard not to. But this week she felt like shit. Her heart hurt and she kept thinking about the fight. She feels like she overreacted but hearing Harry talk about their lack of a future hurt nonetheless. She really assumed that they did have a future that included marriage and a life together. She didn't understand where his sudden lack of commitment came from. She regretted dumping him but at the same time she wished he did more to get them back together but he was silent. He hasn't contacted her at all and avoided all of their spots on campus all together.

She stood by her car prepping for her six hours car ride back home. Packing away her clothes and some essentials in the trunk of her car, she heard light footsteps behind her. Closing her trunk she turned to see Harry standing with his hands in his pockets.  

“Hi.” He said. She looked at him, putting her own hands in her pockets. It was cold outside, the nippy air hinting at a possibility of snow.

“Hi Harry.” They shared a moment of silence together. Just staring at each other. It felt good to be near each other again. They felt like they could breathe again.

“I had to see you before you left. I know the break is only a month but I didn't want to leave without seeing you.” He replied quietly. She made him feel so shy. Her beauty always made him awestruck. Even in a hoodie with their college's logo and some large sweatpants and some fuzzy crocs, she was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“I don't know what to say harry.”

“It's ok. I don't deserve anything from you after what I said. I just wanted to apologize and wish you a good break before you left. I also wanted to give you this.” He pulled a small box and envelope out of the front pocket of his backpack. “I know we agreed on no presents but I think thats a dumb rule and I love you too much to not get you something.” She smiled at his words, taking the gift from his hands.

“Thank you Harry, it means a lot to me. So what are your plans for a break?” She asked him, the tension that was in the air slowly dissipating.

“I couldn't get a flight home until next wednesday so i'll stay here on campus until then.” He shrugged.

“Oh ok. Well tell Anne I said hi. I have to go Harry but I'll see you after the break, ok?” She didn't want to leave him but she didn't want to drive through the dark.

“Ok, love. Drive safe. I lov- I mean have a good break.” Her chest tightened at his hesitation. She wants to hear him say the words but she knows he won't.

“Have a good break Harry.” She whispered. Before getting in her car she stood on her toes placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Rubbing her thumb across his cheek and turning away and into her car.

She drove away knowing that her heart was left in that parking lot in the hands of someone she loves way too much.

Harry stood in the parking lot watching his heart drive away for winter wanting nothing more than to be with her.

Part two

[leossmoonn]

Play Ground Days

masterlist

pairing - carl gallagher x fem!reader

type - fluff

note / request - “ughh FINALLY someone that writes good imagines abt carl from shameless! could you write one where you two grew up together and you've always been close n stuff and then at some point he realizes he loves the reader and he talks to ian and lip (maybe mickey too bc i love him) about it? (fem!reader btw if that's cool) thanks babe xx” thanks for inspo on the beginning @poesflygirl​ <3 ,,, carl and you are 16 also pls dont come for me ive only played COD 2 times last year so lmao i dont remember a lot about it, enjoy!

summary - carl has liked you since you two were young, and seeks advice from his brothers and mickey

warnings - strong language, drugs and alcohol, little talk about bad body imagine 

————

*gif isnt mine*

“I fucking knew it!” Lip exclaimed.

“Why are you telling us? We’ve known this.” Ian commented, smirking at his little brother.  

“How the hell—” Carl started. 

“You’re not exactly great at hiding your crush on her,” Mickey chuckled. 

Carl’s eyes were the size of saucers. “You knew?”

“Of course I did. I’m not fucking Helen Keller,” Mickey rolled his eyes. 

Carl groaned and ran his hands roughly through his hair. “I can’t believe this. Well, secret’s out, I guess. What do I do?”

“Just go tell her you like her. It’s not like she’s going to turn you down.” Lip shrugged, putting his cigarette to his lips. 

“Lip!” Ian hit his brother’s shoulder. 

“What?” Lip asked. 

“You weren’t supposed to say that, dumbass,” Mickey said.

 “What does that mean?” Carl asked, looking in-between his brother’s and Mickey. 

Lip sighed. “Ah, shit, right. I’ve already said too much.”

————

4 hours earlier: 2:00 PM

“Hey, shit head!” She called out, throwing rocks against the window. 

Carl got up from his bed, shocked but happy to see her. He opened his window, leaning against the frame. 

“What’re you doing here?” He asked.

She threw the rocks to the ground. “Escaping from my druggie dad, duh. What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” Carl shrugged. 

She did her signature smirk that always made Carl’s heart flutter. “Wanna go and stuff our faces at Patsy’s Pies?”

Carl’s eyes lit up at the mention of fatty, greasy food. “Hell yeah. I’ll come down.”

She nodded, going to the front of their house. Carl ran down the stairs, putting on his shoes and opening the door to find her on the steps. 

“Hey, why didn’t you just come into the house?” Carl asked, shutting the door behind him. 

“Putting damage on your window seemed more fun. Oh, hey! Do you have an extra bed I can sleep in tonight?” She asked. 

Carl nodded. “Yeah, of course. Your dad is that bad, huh?”

“Yep, he relapsed. Super fun,” she laughed sarcastically. 

“I’m sorry. That shit sucks,” Carl said.

She shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s life. Anyways, ready to go?”

Carl nodded. They got into her car, the girl starting it and driving fast to the dinner. As she was driving, humming to the songs on the radio, Carl stared at her. She was absolutely gorgeous. 

Her name was Y/n L/n. Carl’s oldest and only real friend. They had grown up together, Y/n living only a few houses away from him. They had met in detention in 1st grade and had been close ever since. 

“What’re you staring at?” Y/n asked, glancing over to him. 

Carl blushed. “Nothing.”

“Alright,” Y/n sang.

Carl had often been caught staring at her. It was something he usually did from time to time, but now it was more often. He couldn’t help it. There was something about her. Maybe flawless her skin was, how pretty and bright her smile and eyes were, the way she would make him feel secure and loved, something he had never got from anyone consitently. 

He never really knew why he thought those things about her. People had told him that he probably had a crush on her, but he knew that wasn’t right. He had crushes on girls before and the things he was feeling for Y/n were a lot different than what he had felt for his past girlfriends. He figured it was just that she was his closest friend and he happened to be a horny teenager, so naturally, he just thought those things about her. But oh, how wrong he actually was. 

Y/n parked her car at Patsy’s Pies. They walked into the diner, seeing Fiona at the register. 

“Hey, Fi,” Y/n smiled. 

“Hey, Y/n, Carl! Long time, no see. How are ya?” Fiona asked. 

“Good, good,” Y/n smiled. 

“Good,” Carl said. 

“Great! Well, get yourself seated and someone will be right with you,” she smiled. 

Y/n and walked off to a small booth and sat down. They picked up the menus that were already on the table. 

“You gonna get your usual?” Y/n asked. 

Carl shrugged. “Maybe. Should I change it up?”

“Yes. The double bacon cheeseburger looks good,” Y/n said. 

“Are you getting that?” Carl asked. 

“Maybe. I’ll probably get a salad or something. Gotta watch those calories, you know?” She half-joked, putting a hand on her stomach. 

“I think you look good. You don’t need to worry,” Carl smiled. 

Y/n’s eyes widened. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Carl nodded. 

Y/n looked back at the menu, hiding her embarrassment.

Carl complimenting her was something that was rare, but did happen. Y/n never remembered Carl as a romantic type of guy, but it seems that he had developed  those traits from having a few girlfriends. She liked that, actually. She liked him complimenting her, staring at her for minutes at a time, the way his ears would turn red when she teased him. She liked all of that. 

Y/n would never admit it to anyone, but she had a crush on Carl. She had a crush on him since their freshman year of high school. Well, in reality, she probably has always had one, but the first time she really realised she liked him was in biology when he got in trouble in one of the labs. She remembered when the teacher was yelling at him and he looked at her, smiling at her mischievously and winking at her. That wink had her heart racing and mind go foggy. From then on, she had liked him as more than a friend. Yet, she never said anything because well, as cliche as it was, she was afraid of ruining their friendship. He was really the only one who got her and who never abandoned her. She couldn’t lose him, so she just kept her feelings and gestures to him as friendly as she could.  

“Hi, I’m Carly and I’ll be serving you today. What can I get you today?” The waitress asked. 

“Hi, can I get the philly cheesesteak with a medium coke and fries,” Carl ordered. 

Carly nodded and wrote his order down, turning to Y/n. 

“Um, I’ll get the bacon cheeseburger with a small sprite and fries. Thanks,” Y/n ordered. 

Carly took their menus. “Great. I’ll have your drinks out soon.”

Y/n and Carl smiled at the waitress as she walked away. 

“Hey, so I thought your dad was in rehab,” Carl said. 

Y/n sighed. “He was, but I guess his girlfriend got him drunk, then convinced him to do some lines. God, I can’t believe he's even with her still.”

Carl frowned. “What about your mom? Where’s she?”

“She’s going to nursing school right now. She’s the only one responsible in this family, yet she never calls or anything,” she scoffed.

“You’re really responsible,” Carl said. 

Y/n smiled. “Thanks, C. You are, too.”

Carl laughed, “Me? I sold drugs on the streets once.”

She giggled. “True. But you’ve really shaped. I'm proud.”

Carl smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”

Y/n hummed a ‘you’re welcome’. Carly came back with their food quickly and they dug in. Carl and Y/n spent their time talking and eating, spending about 2 hours there as they just kept talking. 

“Are you two finished?” Carly asked, gesturing to their empty plates. 

“Yeah,” Carl nodded. 

“Great. Here’s your bill, pay whenever you’re ready,” Carly smiled and took their dirty dishes. 

“Ready to go?” Y/n asked. 

Carl nodded and got out his wallet that he had in his shorts. Meanwhile, Y/n also got out her wallet. They both looked up at each other, awkward expressions on their faces. 

“Oh, I was gonna pay,” Carl said. “No, no, my treat. I invited you here,” Y/n said. 

“You sure?” Carl asked. 

She smiled and put a hand on his arm. “Yes, I am, Carl.”

Butterflies irrupted in Carl’s stomach as she touched him. He nodded slowly, putting his credit card away. Y/n and him walked up to the register and paid for their meal. They then went back to Y/n car. 

“What do you wanna do now?” Y/n asked. 

“Wanna play COD Black Ops 3?” Carl asked. 

“Yes!” Y/n smiled. She drove them back to his house, parking haphazardly on the street. 

The two hurried into the house, grabbing a seat on the couch. Carl got the controllers, turning onto the playstation. Y/n logged onto her account, selecting the gun she wanted to use. Carl then started the game. 

“Where are you?” Y/n squinted her eyes at the screen. 

“Right behind you,” Carl smirked. 

Y/n turned around, gasping as Carl shot her. 

“Fuck you!” Y/n exclaimed. 

“Little rusty, huh?” Carl teased. She rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna kill you next round.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Carl said. 

“Winner gets to pick what’s for dinner,” Y/n said. 

“Deal,” Carl nodded. 

The pair played for a couple hours, the game ending with Y/n getting the last kill. 

“Good game,” she smirked, setting the controller down. 

“I forgot how good you were at this,” Carl frowned. Y/n giggled, “I forgot how bad you were.”

Carl rolled his eyes with a smile. “Alright, where do you want to eat?”

“Hm… Noodles n Company?” She suggested. 

“Sure,” Carl nodded. 

“Alright, I’m gonna use the bathroom and then order. Text me what you want,” Y/n said, getting up from the couch. 

Carl nodded and watched her go upstairs to use the bathroom. Then that’s when Lip, Ian, and Mickey all came into the house. 

“Hey, guys,” Carl said. 

“Hey,” Ian smiled. 

“Is Y/n here? We saw her car out front,” Lip said. “Yeah, she is,” Carl nodded. 

“Asked her out yet?” Lip smirked. Carl’s face turned red. “Wh-What?”

“Oh, you’re not in love with her then?” Ian furrowed his brows. 

“I… am I?” Carl asked. 

Ian chuckled. “Yeah. You always are always happy around her, blush whenever she teases you.”

“And you’re always staring at her,” Lip added.

“That doesn’t mean I like her,” Carl said.

“Do feel dizzy and nauseous when she touches you? Does your heart race when she gets close? Do you see yourself kissing her? Would you do anything for her?” Ian asked. 

Carl furrowed his brows. They were right, all those things did happen when she was near. She was his best friend. He also sometimes think about kissing her and being with her in a romantic way. And yeah, of course he would do anything for her. Maybe… Maybe he did love her. 

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. “I… I guess I am in love with her.”

And that, ladies and gents, is where we left off. Lip, Ian, and Mickey teased Carl until Carl begged them for real help. 

“What do you mean?” Carl asked anxiously. 

Lip looked to Ian and Mickey for help on what to say. Little did Carl know, Y/n actually did admit her crush to someone. And that someone, or someones, were Lip, Ian, and Mickey. 

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Mickey said. 

“Did she say something to you?” Carl asked. “No,” Ian shook his head. “Like Mick said, don’t worry.”

“I… fine. Well, what do I do then?” Carl asked in slight distress.

“Give her some flowers and chocolate. Girls love that shit,” Lip suggested. 

“Alright,” Carl nodded. “I don’t know what her favourite flowers are, though.”

“Just get her roses. That’s really romantic,” Lip said. 

Carl smiled, “Alright. Awesome. Thanks, guys.”

He decided to get the flowers early morning tomorrow before Y/n woke up. 

————

Carl sneaked back into the house, hoping not to wake Y/n up. As he walked into the kitchen, he was shocked to see her at the table drinking coffee. 

“Hey, Carl!” Y/n smiled. 

Carl’s eyes were blown wide. “I.. uh…”

“Who are those for?” Y/n got up and pointed to the flowers and chocolate in his hand. 

“Um… you?” Carl said. Y/n smiled. “Me? What did I do to deserve this?”

Carl knew that he couldn’t make up an excuse. He was horrible at lying to her. So, he decided to just have his confession here. 

“I.. I’m in love with you,” Carl said. Y/n’s jaw dropped and she froze. “Wha-What?”

“My brothers and Mickey helped me realise I was yesterday when you were ordering dinner. They told me I should get you flowers and stuff so I did. I hope you like roses,” Carl explained and held up the gifts. 

Y/n’s lips upturned in a wide smile. “How long have you liked me?”

“Honestly, probably since we were little,” Carl shrugged sheepishly. 

Y/n giggled. “Me, too.”

“Really?” Carl smiled. 

Y/n waked up to him and took the gifts, setting them on the kitchen counter. She went up to him and put her arms around his neck. 

“Yep. I always have,” she grinned. 

“Oh, sick!” Carl exclaimed. “Oh wait.”

“What?” Y/n asked in confusion. 

“That’s what they meant!” Carl exclaimed in realisation.

“Who? What?” “Oh, Lip, Mickey, and Ian kind of told me yesterday when I asked for help,” Carl explained. 

Y/n’s eyes widened and she turned to the stairs, glaring. “Mickey, Lip, Ian! You better fucking run!”  

————

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taglist (crossed out means i couldnt tag)

@kaitieskidmore1 @the-anxious-youth @little-miss-naill @powerpuffluuvv

[heartcal]

rejected ; c.h. (part iii)

summary: he was just a silly little crush that you had in high school, and you were sure that after graduating, you would be over it. so why is your heart beating fast as he sits next to you in your first class on your first day of college? pairing: calum hood x reader (gender-neutral) genre: fluff, angst, classmates to friends to lovers au, college au warnings: some cursing, hmm calum sorta remembers somethings from the past which bring out insecurities (brief), calum is a fool :^(, reader is not happy :^( word count: about 2k

a/n: happy new year! i'm ready to yeet 2021 into the deepest parts of hell and welcome 2022! it's the year of the tiger, which will hopefully bring luck, so i hope everyone has a great start to the new year and that it helps you forget the past two years :^) also, thank you for liking this series! means a lot :^) this part is shorter than the previous ones, so i'm not really feeling this chapter, but enjoy! if there are any mistakes, please let me know!

intro | i | ii | iii (current) | iv | v | ... more coming soon!

series masterlist | my masterlist!

PART THREE.

Jessie needed some assistance to get you rolling again. Something to help you get on your feet again and move on from this incident.

Said “old friend,” was just an ex. Jessie went on a couple of dates with him, but the two of them agreed there was no connection romantically. They kept in touch occasionally throughout school, remaining acquaintances even after high school. Jessie would’ve told you, mainly because he was good friends with Calum, but they felt it would be a good story to tell later in life (maybe one day, when you and Calum are an item).

It was a brief fling, neither friend group knew about it, but it wasn’t intentional. It ended as fast as it started, so it wasn’t worth mentioning to anyone.

Jessie knew this friend would give you, or Calum, the push you need.

Today, your morning was free. Your first class wasn’t until the afternoon, so you would usually spend your time in the library, enjoying the silence in the morning and using the free time to revise any homework.

But, due to the events yesterday, you opted to spend the morning outdoors, sitting in the small garden outside the main building.

It was green; the grass had to be fake since it was bright, despite Autumn turning the leaves of the trees brown on the main road. The flowers had to be a sham, too—there is no way they can survive in this weather. But here they are, bright and alive, thriving despite mother nature changing the seasons. (The gardener deserves a raise, you think, and you want to know their secrets.)

“Hey.”

You jump at the voice, turning to look behind you as you sit on the bench to see a somewhat familiar face.

“I knew you looked familiar,” a smile is all it takes for you to remember who he was.

“Hi,” you greet, turning your body to face him better. “Ashton, right?”

He hums, taking a few steps before maneuvering around the bench to take the empty spot next to you. He smiles, “Small world, huh?”

You know he’s making a joke since it’s been almost a month since the start of the new school year. You laugh out a reply, “Yeah, wasn’t expecting to run into any familiar faces.”

“I started this semester late,” he begins, stretching his legs out and a slight crack, “so I haven’t seen just how many of our classmates are here.”

You nod, “Yeah, I’ve seen some around.”

It grows silent, and for a brief second, it starts to feel uncomfortable, ready to take a sharp turn into unbearable.

“I know Calum goes here,” Ashton breaks the silence, sitting up straight to face you properly.

He sees the way you tense at his friend’s name. Jessie told Ashton about what had happened between Calum and you. He was slightly frustrated because in all the years he’s known Calum, Ashton knew Calum didn’t have the heart to stand someone up. If Calum could not make it somewhere, whether it was an outing with friends or a date, he always let someone know ahead of time (and rarely at the last minute).

Ashton continues, taking your hesitancy to respond to his previous statement as an opportunity to dive into last night’s events, “Have you seen him around?”

Yes? You can act like your heart wasn’t broken by Calum, probably give an idea of where he could be right now.

No? It’s a lie, and you’re not well-versed in lying. He would see right through you, and you don’t want his impression of college-you to be terrible.

Your silence worries Ashton, and when he calls your name to get his attention back, he pretends he doesn’t notice it.

“Yeah,” a sigh escapes before you can stop it, “I’ve seen him around.”

He nods, licking his lips as he ponders how to continue the conversation to get to your side of the story. Jessie wasn’t wrong when they said it was not easy for you to open up; be it a stranger or friend, it could take a while.

He decides to go for it.

“Jessie told me what happened.”

Your head whips towards him, and if you weren’t careful, you could’ve gotten whiplash.

“What?” You ask, not sure if you heard him right.

“Jessie told me what happened between you and Cal,” his eyes dart to the possibly fake grass before bouncing back to yours, “how he kind of stood you up.”

You’re not mad at Ashton, probably upset that he knows (and who else knows now?) and is asking you about this, but you’re mad at Jessie for telling someone else. Someone close to Calum, for that matter.

Wait—how did Jessie tell Ashton?

“Look,” Ashton cuts your thoughts off again, “I know Calum, and he’s not the type of guy to do that.”

You scoff, “Well, I guess you don’t know him well enough.”

His lips purse as his eyes bounce around again while he stumbles over the words he wants to say.

“Forget it,” you mutter, grabbing your things and standing, heading inside the building and leaving a shocked Ashton.

Jessie did tell him that you were a bit shy, but they didn’t tell him you were stubborn.

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

Calum smiles when he sees his friend walking toward him, standing from his seat in the café that sits across the street from the campus.

“Hey, Ash,” Calum greets Ashton with a quick hug before sitting back down.

Ashton returns a greeting and takes the empty seat in front of Calum.

“How’s your day been so far?” Calum asks, shutting his notebook and sliding it into his bag.

Ashton shrugs, “So far, so good.”

Calum nods his head before diving into his day. Ashton tunes him out briefly as he wonders how to bring up the matter with you.

He waits for the perfect time to cut in, stopping Calum’s rambling, “I ran into a few people from high school, by the way.”

“Oh?” Calum blinks, “Yeah, I have some classes with some old classmates.”

“Who’s here, do you know?”

Calum starts listing off a few names, some familiar to Ashton. He waits for Calum to get to your name, seeing how that’ll be that start of the conversation about standing you up.

But he doesn’t mention you, despite having English together.

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

Ashton tries again in the early evening. He catches Calum sitting in his car on his phone with a smile. He knocks on the window, making Calum jump.

“Oh, hey,” he laughs before rolling down the window and locking his phone.

“About to leave?” Ashton asks.

“Yeah, need a ride?”

Ashton shakes his head, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. He knows that he should get Calum to tell him why he ditched you last night. He couldn’t have been busy somewhere because he was active on social media, and Calum’s not working yet since he’s still getting used to his schedule, so what’s the deal?

“No, well—actually, can I talk to you about something?”

Calum nods, confusion making its way across his face as he unlocks the doors.

Ashton walks around to the passenger seat, opening the door and placing his bag on the floor before getting in. He can tell Calum is slightly tense, that he knows something isn’t right and Ashton will ask him about it.

“What’s got you on edge?” Ashton questions, noticing how Calum’s fingertips tapped the bottom of the steering wheel incessantly—a sign he was nervous.

“Nothing?” It comes out as a question instead of reassurance, earning Calum a stern look from Ashton.

Calum sighs, knowing there’s no way out of this.

“I fucked up.”

“What happened?” Ashton feels like he’s already made progress without doing much.

Calum sighs, leaning back into his seat as he fiddles with his fingers, “I promised someone I would meet up with them to celebrate something, you know, something friendly. But I didn’t show up—I didn’t even tell them I wasn’t coming.”

Ashton says your name, and Calum freezes before turning to look at Ashton with widened eyes.

“Yeah, how did you--”

Ashton cuts Calum off, “A little birdie told me.”

Calum narrows his eyes at his friend. A little birdie? Who told him? And how did they find out? Maybe you were the one that told Ashton?

Ashton notices Calum’s confusion, “I ran into them on the way to one of my classes this morning.”

Calum sighs again, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration.

“Why did you do it?”

Calum shrugs, “I don’t know. I think I panicked?”

“Panic? Why did you panic?”

“Earlier this week, a girl told me she liked me,” Calum’s hands were moving along with his words, helping to set the timeline of the mess, “and I wasn’t prepared—she did it in front of so many people, too—so I didn’t give her an answer. So I went to go find someone who could help me put my thoughts into words. They were the first person I thought of, so I went to them and told them what happened. They told me what to say and later that night, we agreed to meet up at the library so we can celebrate them passing a quiz. But I never showed up.”

It’s Ashton’s turn to sigh, smoothing the crease between his eyebrows.

“You’re an idiot,” he mutters, ignoring Calum’s distressed glance, “so why didn’t you go? What did you panic about?”

Calum grows silent. His eyes dart around, jumping from the steering wheel to the windshield.

“I don’t know, honestly.”

He knows. Calum knows why he panicked, why he didn’t show up, and why he didn’t text you to let you know he wasn’t coming. But he won’t admit it because he’s not sure if it’s how he feels.

“You need to apologize to them,” Ashton breathes out, “I would be upset if someone did that to me. I don’t think they’ll forgive you, or at least forgive you right away, but the longer you hold off on this, you’ll end up on their bad side.”

Calum can only nod as Ashton grabs his bag and exits the car.

Before he closes the door, he offers one more piece of advice to Calum.

“We’re in college now, bud. Don’t let past experiences hold you back from moving on.”

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

A grunt leaves Calum’s mouth as he tosses his phone onto his bed, leaning back in his desk chair as he rubs his temples.

He’s been drafting an apology (with minimal explanation) for an hour now, and he’s nowhere near where he wants to be. He wants to apologize for standing you up because he knows firsthand how shitty it makes you feel. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t bring himself to concoct a proper apology.

Remember how Sheila made you feel.

A memory crosses his mind, and he recalls it from the beginning to the end. The scene, the feeling, the anger; it hits him all at once, and that’s what gets him moving again.

It takes no less than thirty minutes to put the apology together, and he sends it to Ashton for revisions to make sure he doesn’t sound like an ass.

With Ashton’s few revisions and approval, he opens up your conversation. It pains him to see the last conversation, where he felt genuine excitement despite not knowing you that well.

The happy face you sent in your response was heartwarming, and it only worsens the guilt he feels as he types up a new message.

hey, i know i’m someone you don’t want to talk to right now, but i want to apologize. (9:29pm)

He waits for a response, some kind of acknowledgment at the very least.

Another memory comes through.

“I don’t want to hear it, Calum.”

“I said I was sorry, Sheila! You’re not innocent here, either.”

“I was upfront about what I wanted.”

A brief vibration from his phone shakes the memory from his head.

im listening. (9:31pm)

Your response was just two words, but it has Calum smiling.

Ashton’s right, maybe he shouldn’t dwell on the past and move on.

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

taglist: @rexorangecouny // @hungrycrazy

[jeonfiles]

better left unsaid - jjk

genre: angst, rebounds

pairings: jungkook x reader (ft. namjoon)

warnings: arguing, alcohol, profanity, break ups, light smut, use of drugs, jungkook is a fucking dick, jungkook has major attachment issues, toxic relationships, oc cries a lot, namjoon has a heart of gold, unrequited love

synopsis: you knew you shouldnt have given him that second chance, not the third or the fourth either. no matter how much you try he always slithers his way underneath your sheets, arms wrapped around you.

word count: 2.7k

music: into your arms, so it ends?, you will fade, thinkin bout you, julia, my insecurities not yours, fuck u, goodluck, my dear i will think of you

note: uhh ive never written a y/n fic so bare with me, if u listen to the music you’ll be able to feel the story a lot more so yeah if u have time u should, not proof read

Light coming through the cracks of the blinds, making you squint your eyes when the daylight beams into your eyes, head resting on the kitchen island Looking up, you saw the clock ticking on the wall, 11:32 am.

You had stayed up till 5 am, waiting for him to come home, but seemingly, he never did. Reaching for your phone, you saw 4 missed calls from the one and only,

Jeon Jungkook, saved in your phone as “Koo <3″, Rows of messages too, all from the same contact.

Koo <3 [05:34 am]

baby pkck me up pleseee

im so wsated

Koo <3 [06.46am]

dont be mad at me jsut pick me up

i dont knw hewere the fuck i am

i love you

Koo <3 [07:31 am]

i got a rde home i’ll be home by 12

i need to talk to someone frsit

im sorry if i woke ypu dont be worried

You took a few moments to collect your thoughts, but there wasn’t much to collect. This whole thing, was a routine by now.

Standing up to make yourself a cup of coffee, you could literally not feel your own backside, you were so sore from the barstool you had been sitting on all night, and it made you groan in pain.

Two coffee cups right beside the kitchen sink, which you couldn’t bring yourself to clean up, because it was from the last time you had coffee together, which was 2 weeks ago.

The inside of the cup had a coffee crust at the top, and both your lip tint marks on the outside.

When you finish your cup of coffee while watching a bad telenovela, you go sit in your favorite chair and pull out a few books from the backpack hanging on the chair next to you, getting ready to get some studying done.

For a few seconds you imagine Jungkook hanging over your shoulder laughing at the way you write your A-s and R-s, or the way you always sign your homework at the bottom of the page.

And when you open them, there’s no one there. The only sound is from the refrigerator, making refrigerator noises.

You had met Jungkook 3 years ago, when you were at college orientation, senior year of high school. He also wanted to attend Yonsei, just like you.

And when he whispered to you about how bored he was, you couldn’t help but giggle, and then you got yelled at.

It was worth it though, because everyone was jealous of you afterwards,the  Jeon Jungkook had talked to you.

Jungkook was an all-rounder as they called it; great physique, intelligent, charismatic and great at sports.

And god, he had a beautiful face, and such a filthy mouth, and it didn’t go long before you gave in to his seductive ways and slept with him. The morning after, he wasn’t in bed with you, and your heart sank.

Luckily, he was in the kitchen making you breakfast.

It was all bliss from there, showering you with love, gifts and kisses for two years, and you even ended up moving in together.

And now? You barely remember what he sounds like, smells like and is like.

A distant memory, just as distant as him.

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted as you heard 3 knocks on your door. The exact same way he had always knocked when he had forgotten (or lost) his keys.

And even though you should have let him suffer a little, you rushed to the door to open it, and in front of you, was your biggest nightmare.

It was your love, crying his eyes out, bleeding from one of many cuts on his face, looking nearly dead. He collapsed into your arms, and you could only utter a few words, along the lines of:

“How could you do this to us?”

As he was laying curled up in a ball on the couch, face plastered up, ice bag on his knee, wrapped up in a blanket, you realized. this was your que to cry.

So, you did. You cried in silence, sitting across the room from him. You weren’t mad at him for coming home late, or getting in another fight, probably the 5th just these past months, you had gotten used to that by now.

There was a whole other reason that made you cry.

He smelled like Victorias Secret Bombshell, you recognized the scent because it used to be your favorite,  however, now you’ve moved onto something less sweet, and more elegant, like Caroline Herrera.

He smelled like someone who wasn’t you, his girlfriend.

He smelled like another girl.

It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Maybe because the Jungkook that had come home to you that morning wasn’t your Jungkook.

Your Jungkook was varsity jackets, star of the american football team (which your school was known for), selfless and humorous, and he would always take care of you.

Your Jungkook was not ungroomed hair, cigarettes and worsening grades. He was not cold and lifeless, and he would never make you cry.

Despite this, you were carding your fingers though his hair, thumb wiping away the blood on his lips while he was sound asleep as you slowly fell asleep next to him.

Maybe it was time to let him go. 

Maybe.

You woke a few hours later from your phone vibrating.

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:01 pm]

Hey Y/N! Have you started working on the statistics assignment?

If you haven’t, would you be interested in meeting at the library tomorrow? You’re really smart and i’m kinda struggling ://

You [07:03 pm]

i finished it yesterday, but if you buy me coffee i’ll come help you hehe

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:04 pm]

You’re the best, I’ll bring you a machiatto!! :D

Maybe it would be nice for you to get out of the house, even though you hate the thought of it, and you would much rather just swim in your own sorrow.

But you did go out the next day, and you helped Namjoon get a decent grade, enough to pass with good margines, he thanked you by taking you out for ramen at a convenial store not too far away.

You thanked him for the ramen with a trip to the museum, and he thanked you for the museum trip with a picnic in the park at night, which led you to crying over Jungkook in his embrace, telling him every single little detail.

He made you realize it was time to let Jungkook go and make room for new people to enter your life.

You went home that night, and you found Jungkook passed out on the couch, and you could genuienly feel your chest tighten. Soft features which stood out under the moonlight glow, disheveled brown locks which hung down in his eyes.

He was gorgeous, until you saw the credit card on the table next to three bottles of soju and an empty beer can on the floor. And you knew what he had used the credit card for, though you didn’t want to say it out loud.

You cleaned everything up, and you threw the residue of the white powder right in the trash can, and you recycled his bottles and cans before finally, nudging him to wake up.

“Jungkook, wake up.” You spat coldly, or at least you attempted to.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes before opening his eyes, and s huge smile on his face. “Y/N, you’re home!” He reached to kiss you, but you backed away.

“Y/N?” Jungkook questioned, he didn’t quite understand what your intentions were.

“Don’t try anything Jungkook. This was your last chance, and you fucked it up, again.” The room turned ice cold. “I’m getting you help Jungkook, you need help. And then...”

He understood what kind of help you meant, and since he had now sobered up, he agreed, nodding. “And then...?” 

“And then.” Your words were ludged in your throat. “And then I’m leaving you.”

His whole face dropped, smile turned into the frowniest frown you had ever seen, and it was all silent before his lower lip starts trembling, and his eyes start turning glassy.

“It’s alright. Sorry for burdening you.” Was all he could say before tears rushed down his cheeks, and he started shaking.

So you did what you always had done, and you wrapped your arms around him, head resting on your chest as he sobbed.

“Is there anyone else?” he cried out before another wave of sobs hit him.

This exact question made your stomach hurt, and your throat burn. You really had no idea.

Or you did, but you didn’t want to.

You loved Jungkook so much, but you couldn’t be with him in this state. So you did what every rational person would do in this situation.

“Yeah.”

You lied.

“Oh ok. I don’t have the right to be mad do I?”

You shake your head no.

“I love you Y/N. I’m sorry I’m so messed up.”

“It’s ok.” was all he said before he fell asleep in your arms again.

That night you slither your way out of his embrace and you pack your suitcase in the dark, bringing all your essentials, trying to be as quiet as possible so you didn’t wake Jungkook.

Packing enough for two weeks or so, you make the bed and leave your t-shirt “accidentally” in the bathroom, and you make sure all his clothes are folded, and then you sort his pencil case, throwing out old pens and worn out erasers.

You leave a grocery list on the counter, and you tuck him in good under the blankets after you took his jeans and socks off so he could sleep comfortably.

You placed his vitamins and medicine by the refrigerator so he’ll see it when he goes to grab something to eat. 

Puffed up pillows, a pair of sweatpants, t-shirt and underwear is now placed neatly on his bed. Then you walk into the kitchen again, and you see Jungkook still sound asleep, sniffling a little still.

There’s one last thing, and it makes you cry. It makes you sob so loud you cover your mouth and muffle the sound you make. Sinking to the floor, your whole body is in contact with the cold tiles.

Only a year ago you could never imagine yourself even shedding a single tear over something as small as this, but here you were, on the edge of a panic attack.

Two worn out, matching couple mugs still placed by the counter. one if the first things you two had bought together, as well as the necklace hanging around your neck.

Finally, you stopped crying and started cleaning the mugs, lip trembling as you dried them and placed them in the back of the cabinet.

You unhooked your necklace and laid it down on the counter, and the biggest lump formed in your throat.

Actually, there’s a little detail you forget. 

You kiss Jungkook on the forehead and leave a note on the coffee table.

“Dear Jungkook,

If you want to make this up to me (this does not mean a new chance!!) you call the number at the bottom of the page. No matter what happens, I’ll always have room for you in my heart. You even have your own little VIP lobby in there. And - if it’s urgent, call. I still care for you, and I always have. You were the best boyfriend I’ve had, but good things always come to and end, don’t they? Anyways, I’m tired so this letter fucking sucks, but deep down you know how much I love you. Remember to get groceries, shower, get fresh air and study. If I forgot something you can keep it, as long as you call the number and tell them you’re my friend. They’ll help you love. Try and get a part time job too, your student loan and your dad’s money won’t last forever. Good luck Koo. Hwaiting!!

-L/N Y/N <33″

You cringe when you think of the letter’s contents, before you roll out your suitcase out of the front door, whispering a faint “Goodnight Love.” as you close and lock the door behind you.

Standing by the elevator, you cry again. This time, louder, but you still reach for your phone and type out a text to the newly edited contact in your phone.

You [02:13 am]

coming outside now, im a crying mess and im super cold, is your car heated?

sorry for making you wait btw :((

Joonie <3 [02:13 am]

dont worry about the crying part, i’ll hold you. and yeah car is heated, so waiting here wasnt all that bad. you ready for this?

You  [02:14 am]

i have no idea but i cant stay here any longer and i trust you sooo

lets start our new chapter. eh?

4 months later...

He had been good to you, great even.

You had been on expensive dates, picnics, had heart to heart conversations, and he’d been so understanding.

Today, it was your 2 month anniversary, and he had asked you on a magnificent date, which he had planned every second of.

At the end of the day, you told him how you don’t love him. He said it was alright. Namjoon loved you, so much, yet he understood you needed time.

You went to sleep that day, warm in Namjoon’s embrace, wondering how Jungkook was doing. 

You felt bad, but you missed Jungkook.

You were both with someone new now, and you knew he was in good hands with someone stable enough to care for him.

Before your eyes closed shut, you shed a few quiet tears and hoped that you’d fall in love with Namjoon soon, and deep down you knew you would.