#those are just old thoughts resurfacing again I know

[writerfae]

Actually some of us don’t have the time or energy to write thousands (or hundreds or whatever) of words a day and that’s okay and that’s fine. Don’t beat yourself up about it. There will be better times. Save your energy for those instead of beating yourself up about not writing recently. In your heart you’re still a writer.

[m-oddinsdottir]

COLD STEEL

the shadowsinger and the traitor .ˊˎ 🗡️

Azriel x Fem! Reader

Words: 2,674

Warnings: takes place in acowar so it may contain SPOILERS from previous books, archeron sister reader, use of a dagger, reader is tied up, angst, betrayal, no use of y/n, mating bond, fluff, images above do not depict reader’s appearance it’s just for aesthetic and I think that’s it

Summary: When your real intentions are discovered by the Inner Circle of the Night Court, you have to face the consequences. Your mate and the cold steel of Truth Teller.

A/N: friendly reminder that english isn’t my first language so please feel free to correct me <3 this is my first one shot for acotar so of course it had to be about azriel

Masterlist

•••

Gods, how did you end up in this situation? Wrists tied behind your back and a rope that served as a muzzle inside your mouth to prevent yourself from making any sound… Any sound that could mess up with your mate's closed-up mind.

No. You knew exactly why you were there. It was all your fault and because of what? A blinding desire for revenge? Or perhaps it was childish behavior that had made you reach out to the wrong person?

But you were young. Immature. Compared to all those creatures you had sworn once in your life to hate and that now your sister considered a family. They were centuries old, you were just turned twenty-one when it happened.

Twenty-one before your mortality had been taken away from you, in front of your eyes, while you were slowly sunk inside that turbid water of what they had called "The Caldroun"... A powerful source of magic, creator of the world known and theft of yours and your sisters' mortality.

But as theft, as The Cauldron was, it was also generous. So it gifted powerful abilities that seemed to differ from others in that magical end of The Wall.

As a mortal, your impulsivity sometimes took a thick control over your logical sense. And when you were turned High Fae, that only increased. The process of adaptation was hard. You could hear, see, and feel everything. Everything you had ignored before. And the desperation of not knowing how to stop it made you act.

And the King of Hybern was the only solution.

Or so you thought, less than a year as an immortal and you had already made your biggest mistake. He promised he would help you with the emerging powers. You believed him. He swore that if you desired it, he would return your mortality. You believed him. He convinced you it was all Feyre's fault. You believed him.

And the only requirement? You would become his spy. All you had to do was watch and tell. And you stupidly agreed.

Easy job. You already hated all of them... It was their fault you had ended up being swallowed by the Cauldron and resurfaced as one of them. You just had to do as the King said, keep Nesta and Elain protected until the King would turn the three of you mortal again, and then... Then you would figure it out. It was easy, right?

It was easy knowing that you were working with the male who plotted to kill the sister who had saved you from starvation. Even easier witnessing the love they shared, the love of a family... A family bonded by the drawbacks of time and the burdens they had fought together.

Gods...

And it was even easier to betray the male who had silently been by your side, wanting to help and protect you without being invasive. His quiet and cold presence was even more reassuring than a gentle caress or a hug and before you realized, you desired to spend more time with him... Not only in silence.

When the bond snapped, it wasn't a surprise but a relief for Azriel to be able to call you his mate... On the other hand, for you, it was what changed everything.

You were trapped, being suffocated by the feeling of betrayal and consternation. And every time you slept by his side when you were in the comfort of being surrounded by him and him only, silent tears escaped your eyes.

Said eyes widened slightly when he entered the stance where you had been tied up. Azriel was silent, but not his usual comforting silence. The male that looked at you now was someone completely different from the male that held you through the nights, wings wrapped around your body to shield you from any harm.

Your eyes moved lower to his scarred hands, eyes closing tightly as you noticed that Azriel was gripping Truth Teller. The dagger's blade caught the only traces of light that filtered through the darkness of the room and your throat closed as the tears began to pool in your closed eyes, dropping down your cheeks into the muzzle.

Azriel didn't say a word as he approached you. He didn't even flinch when he saw your tears as he usually did every time you cried in front of him. No, he just moved to free you from the muzzle around your lips.

He was determined to make you talk. Your mate seemed willing to torture you until he got any valuable information out of you... Or, at least, an explanation.

Your heart ached at the thought and unconsciously your pain traveled through the bond making Azriel's breath hitch before he shook his head.

‘Azriel...’ You mumbled beggingly, your voice sounding strained with emotion. But not because of the muzzle, the rope around your wrists, or the thought of being tortured... Those were the least of your concerns as you observed the male before you.

He didn't answer. ‘Azriel, please...’ You tried again and he looked into your eyes, no emotions visible in his hazel irises. Almost as if he had shut them down. A sob escaped your lips. ‘Please, please... Just—’

Azriel interrupted you. ‘You are not going to trick me anymore.’

The coldness in his words made you fight against the ropes that were wrapped around your wrists. ‘I didn't—!’ Lie. You did trick everyone into thinking you were harmless. ‘Please, Azriel... I swear I—’

‘Were you forcefully compelled to work with Hybern?’

‘No, but—’

His firm voice interrupted you before you could try to justify yourself. ‘Did you not spy on us... On me and shared that information with Hybern?’

‘Azriel, please—’

‘Were you not condemning us to a certain death by sharing that information?’

A sob escaped your lips and you couldn't hold his gaze anymore, looking down at the ground before yelping when his scarred hands roughly held your chin and forced you to look at him. His fingers squeezing your cheeks.

‘Were you not condemning me to death?’ Azriel asked again.

‘I didn't know what else to do.’ You mumbled and then the cold steel of Truth Teller pressed against your trembling throat. Holding back the need to sob, your gaze locked with his.

‘And betraying your family and your mate was the best option?’

‘The bond hadn't snapped when I...’ Azriel pressed the blade closer to your throat but despite his threat, you noticed he was being gentle... The blade was raised upwards to prevent it from slicing your throat and even if he was gripping it tightly, the pressure against your neck was minimal.

You looked behind him and noticed how his own shadows were trying to move him away from you. The dark tendrils were trying to protect you.

‘Look. At. Me.’ He spoke coldly, fingers squeezing your cheeks again. ‘You still betrayed your sisters... And then betrayed me when you kept going.’

‘What did you expect me to do? To suddenly cut connections with Hybern? Yeah, that probably wouldn't raise suspicions, Azriel.’ You managed to mumble, a small frown of frustration over your features as you looked at him through the blur of your tear-filled eyes.

He held his breath as he analyzed you, his eyes scanning the tears that stained your cheeks and how your brows furrowed together. ‘You could have told me.’

‘And then what? The same damn situation we're dealing with now.’ His fingers around your chin squeezed tightly pulling you forward to him. His nose brushed against yours as breaths mingled together. Gods, his turmoil was so tangible that you could smell the inner fight he was struggling with.

He breathed in your scent. ‘I would have helped you... I would have understood you.’

‘Are you understanding me? Are you helping me?’

Azriel called your name in frustration before he roughly shoved your head back. Desperately needing to create some distance between you, he held your chin so that you couldn't lean in closer. ‘Don't say that as if that's not the only thing I long for. Help you, protect you, shield you.’

Hearing the desperation in his voice had you holding your breath. The guilt invades your lungs in a choking sensation instead of the so-desired oxygen. But that's what you deserved, after everything.

‘I...’ Your strained voice broke the silence as you finally looked into his eyes. ‘I just wanted my mortality back, Azriel...’ He sighed shakily before his hand holding Truth Teller moved down. ‘Everything's been so...’ Your voice broke and his other hand moved up to cup your cheek.

‘I know, I know...’ He mumbled and his eyes met you, the same warmth in which he usually held your gaze.

‘I didn't know what else to do... I was so furious with Feyre and I—... I just thought about bringing our mortality back.’ You admitted referring to your sisters before Azriel shushed you, the hand holding Truth Tuller moving down to cut the ropes that held your shoulders to the pole so that at least you could rest your weight against him. However, he kept the ropes around your wrists and legs.

When your head gently hit his shoulder resting against him, his hand moved up to cup the back of your head. Whispering sweet words to reassure you as he held you in his arms, trying to silence your tears as he brushed his lips along your temple.

‘If I could go back, I swear I'll do it... I—’ You trailed off when he began massaging your scalp bringing a sense of calm to your trembling body. ‘Ever since the bond snapped, I've been giving him confusing information. Half-lies... Or entirely nothing. I swear...’

‘I know, baby, I know.’

His words made you nuzzle your nose more against his shoulder. ‘Please, you have to believe me... Please.’

His hand over your cheek pulled you back so you could look into his hazel eyes. Gods, those irises... You could sink into them and get lost in that pool of golden brown. And you would do it willingly. They were your anchor. He was your anchor. Your strength and your liability, both at the same time.

‘I believe you.’ Azriel assured you. Then, the strength of your bond hit you so hard that it caught your breath away. The golden thread looked tangible as it swirled as a bridge between your souls and there you could feel his honesty and concern.

‘I don't know what to do.’ You confessed in a shaky whisper and he rested his forehead against yours. ‘Gods, please hate me. It's way easier than this... Hate me, Az...’ You begged him.

Azriel shook his head before his lips pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead. Rejoicing the feeling, a soft sigh escaped your lips. ‘I don't hate you. I could never hate you.’

‘You should.’

‘I don't want to,’ Azriel repeated before he gently called your name. The word rolled off his tongue with a soothing tone to it. ‘I don't hate you, baby... And neither does Feyre, nor either of the others.’

When a small sob escaped your lips, his dagger swiftly cut the rope that held your arms and wrists and you were able to wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace.

Finally.

Your torso was pressed against his, the soft flesh in your body caressing the hardness of the centuries-trained muscles over his chest and abdomen. Azriel immediately encircled your waist. He needed this. To feel you closer. To know you weren't a threat.

‘No one hates you.’ He assured you gently ‘Elain... She saw your intentions through one of her... Visions,’ Azriel's face contorted into discomfort at the thought of your younger sister having such a powerful ability that she didn't know how to control ‘She defended you and I... I wanted to see it for myself, see that you... That you at least had some regret.’

He loathed the thought of what he had planned to do before entering that room.

‘I wanted to torture you until you would give me something... Anything.’ Azriel admitted and you felt his pain and self-hatred through the bond. ‘But I... Seeing you like this, I can't— I don't...’ His grip on you tightened.

‘Azriel...’ You mumbled but he interrupted you.

‘I know you regret it.’ The Shadowsinger mumbled and his dark tendrils roamed down to free you from the rope around your legs. The minute you were free you wrapped one leg around him bringing the male closer to you. ‘Now I see it.’

You two fell into a comfortable silence. He brought you comfort and so did you to him. It was as simple as that.

‘If I hadn't felt any regret...’ You began gently only stopping for a second when the male growled. His chest vibrated roughly, so you placed one hand over the hard tattooed flesh. ‘Would you have done it? Torture me?’

The Ilyrian male froze under the weight of your question. Was that what you believed of him? Did you think he would do you any harm? The mere idea made Azriel want to go through every single torture himself.

‘No.’ He spoke firmly and his eyes met yours again when he pulled away. ‘No. Never...’ Azriel shook his head and then it seemed as if something broke inside him. ‘Never... never...’

He repeated over and over again as he slowly closed the distance between your lips. Lazily, his lips crashed against yours tasting the saltiness of your lips. ‘Never...’ He repeated over your lips. ‘Don't ever suggest it again.’ Azriel mumbled with pain.

His hand moved up to tangle around your hair as he kissed you again, this time it was messier... The male was shaking as he captured your lips with his and he gently pulled away when you choked one of your sobs against his mouth, more tears silently falling and making the kiss even messier if it was possible. A small frown adorned his face as he pulled you closer by the waist after backing away.

‘What can I do?’ You asked, voice strained and tears falling down your cheek until they would wet the dark fabric of his shirt. ‘Please, Azriel, what can I do to amend it?’

His sigh was warm against the skin of your neck and his lips pressed a gentle kiss against the sensitive skin provoking a shiver that ran down your spine. ‘Nothing. You don't need to do anything...’

‘I do.’ You insisted and he shook his head, burying his nose even more into the crook of your neck.

‘You don't.’

‘Azriel...’

‘I... Cassian may have said something earlier that could not be a terrible idea.’ Azriel mumbled against your skin before he moved backward to look into your eyes and seeing your raised brow he sighed. ‘But I don't want you to get in danger just to...’

‘Just to make it up for you? Enough reason.’ You whispered, chin tilted backward to brush your lips against his. ‘I am capable of making my own decisions, Azriel.’

His small grin widened as he answered, ‘I know that,’ when your lips pressed against his in small, gentle pecks. Yet, he couldn't help but keep talking. ‘This shouldn't be allowed… You're compelling me with your kisses.’

‘Am I now? What a shame... Poor Spymaster can't handle some kisses?’

The moment he confessed, ‘Not when they're yours,’ you couldn't help but stifle a giggle. You paused your kisses and instead nestled your nose against his, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

‘Please, Azriel... Just tell me what I can do.’

He groaned under his breath when your presence clouded his thoughts. ‘Cassian mentioned that you could gather information for us… Misinform Hybern and extract intel from him.’

Your brow raised with interest.

‘Perhaps I could teach you the art of espionage, my mate... Be one of my spies… What do you think?’ Azriel mused, his gaze penetrating as he locked his gaze with yours.

Oh, how the tables had turned on Hybern.

[kalki-tarot]

Your First Date with your Fs! 💌

Pick only one picture. Kalki tarot is not responsible for any decisions you make in your life from this reading(s). Use your brain and be mindful.

Please Allow me to tap into your energy.

Tap on Masterlist for more.

Pile 01

For some of you this date may be through arranged marriage or some female member from your family will first introduce you to them.

For others I'm getting that you may have 2 options to choose from, and you choose them after a lot of thinking and introspecting. Because i see you really wanting someone long term.

I'm seeing that your fs could be someone very shy and introverted on the first date, they may not really seem that talkative you know? Those people who only talk when nessecary.

This will take place when you are in some really busy or hardworking phase in your life. Maybe you just started a new job or you are a very busy person in general. The first date can be near water, like beach, seas, lakes etc. This can also take place in an amusement park.

Before the date you will be very anxious about what will happen and what not. Very scattered energy and overthinking is coming from your side. But anyhow, you really look forward to it and future of you guys together. If you last long or not? All these thoughts will cover up your mind.

For some of you, I'm also seeing that you may not be able to sleep a day before the date due to excitement, racing hearts and thoughts lol. You really are very anxious about it.

On the other hand, you future spouse too seems to be a little worried. They are someone who were heartbroken in the past, they were too giving in relationships but never received enough. So these thoughts may resurface and they may start to overthink too. They will be curious to know if you are someone genuine and trustworthy or like their old partners.

Okay, let's see how the actual date will be! I'm seeing that your fs may insist to pay even if they have less amount of money, such a gentleman/woman. The feminine (not gender specific) in the connection may take a lead throughout the date as they may have planned it all together.

I'm also seeing you guys talking about your future visions and goals. All the things you desire to do and achieve in your life. You both may have similar goals or interests which will be very interesting. You may also talk about some intellectual topics like politics or Philosophy.

Your chemistry together would be fabulous. Like two puzzle pieces perfectly joining together and making sense. The date will be very nice, so don't worry about it. Just be yourself and show your true self. I'm also seeing you guys will want to have another date too. You both will look forward to meeting each other again. Lovely!

Pile 02

Wow! This date will be a surprise for you. Your fs won't tell u where they are taking you, as it will be a surprise for you. I'm also getting a scenario where you are literally blindfolded and when they show you the place you get very surprised.

Your fs can be a foreigner for some of you. This date will be in a different location or country than you live in currently. The date will be fun and entertaining. Your fs may buy or gift you a small piece of jewellery to keep as a memory.

The masculine will literally dress up their best on the first date ! I'm seeing someone putting on white shirt and perfume. This date can happen at a formal place like a fancy restaurant or bar. They would want to smell and look their best.

I'm also seeing that you guys may drink wine together as I'm seeing them pouring you a glass. They will talk about what you expect from them and whatever they can provide for you in the relationship. They are someone very selfless and giving.

For the feminines, I'm seeing that she was forced to show up on this date by their friend or family member. She is very busy and had to take out time from her schedule. The feminine will really show up in a silky satin dark purple and shiny dress. She will look very sexy and appealing. The masculine will get swayed by her appearance lmao.

About the actual date, I'm seeing love at first sight. You guys will fall for each other and you will be surprised by how great you two match together. You will be amazed by how different your ideologies are but still you guys do great together. You will take this as a sign as they are the one for you.

One thing specifically I'm getting is that please specify and clear your past in front of your fs on the first date itself. Some people may try to ruin things for you. please be careful and don't lie to your fs about anything. They are very understanding and will understand you.

You should also consider to have another date, as I'm seeing confusion for you. Take things slow and steady.

Pile 03

This date will happen after you've got stable in your career and now you wanna explore love in your life. For some I'm also seeing that you will be in your 30s when this date takes place, take whatever resonates. It's never too late for love.

You may consult your friends or even a tarot reader before the date for necessary precautions because Your mind will feel somehow conflicted and underconfident. But your angels will be supporting you.

Wow, for your fs i can see that they really are in love with you and want to propose you for marriage as soon as possible. It's because they love you so much and don't wanna lose this great opportunity.

They will be daydreaming about you and trying to brush up their flirting skills. They really wanna woo you fr.

You guys can meet in a hospital or a court, some strict and structured place is what i can see. Or their/your profession can be lawyer, doctor, teacher, professor etc.

Your first date can be in a zoo, animal shelter, park, or you can try pottery,painting or some hand craft thing on your first date.

This occasion will heal your inner child a lot. You will finally be at peace and feel like home with your person. You'll feel better and lighthearted. You won't even realize how fast the time passes. You will get this feeling on the first date itself that they are your counterpart, the one you're meant to be with. It will feel serendipitous.

I can also see that your fs has both fire and water signs in their chart prominently.

[jeicey]

CHERRY LIPGLOSS SUCKS

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: You and Regina have a long-standing history together, and now, with your exes pairing up in a new relationship, you are reluctantly forced to work together to win them back. Will the familiarity bring you closer, or will old habits resurface, leading to further tensions?

Warnings: manipulative regina, profanity, beginner fanfic writer:so mid writing, mentions of weed and mozzarella sticks

Words:1.3k

A/N:Thank you so much for all the support on Part 1, especially to that one user who reblogged and said "go read or u suck" I LOVE U.

Regina's words echoed in my mind like a stuck record."

"Ill see you tomorrow, after school, underneath the bleache-"

"Dude!" Mae jolted me out of my thoughts, snapping. My brain instantly refocused on the present moment.

The final class had just 5 minutes left, and I had to meet Regina. I hadn't had a genuine and meaningful conversation with Regina in a while. Our last talk had taken place years ago, and it didn't exactly conclude on the best terms.

-

"Did You really have to be that honest?!"

-

"Y-Yeah?" I stammered as I shook my head, desperately trying to clear my mind.

"Are you even paying attention?" she asked with an eye roll.

Trying to cover up my shit, I responded with a snort, "Of course!" hoping she would buy my lie.

Unconvinced, she asked, "So, when is Anders' soccer game?"

Ander plays soccer?

I gulped, "Tomorrow?" I replied, my voice smaller.

"Ander has asthma, dumbass." She pointed out

My shoulders sagged as I let out a resigned sigh, muttering under my breath, "fuck you, reverse psychology."

"You good?"

I attempted to brush off Mae's concern, replying, "It's nothing."

She gave me a skeptical look, countering, "Bullshit. You didn't even touch those mozzarella sticks I brought you. You love mozzarella sticks."

"I was full," I argued lamely, attempting to defend myself.

Mae raised a skeptical eyebrow, reminding me, "You guzzle down a Red Bull every morning for breakfast. Your 'full' card doesn't fly, genius."

"I'm just not in the mood today, okay?" I reasoned again

"Fine," Mae conceded, slightly annoyed. "I'm going to go help Brynn roll some. Want to join?"

I shook my head, declining her offer.

"Nah, I have something to do," I responded, already turning to leave the classroom.

Mae looked at me suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. "Okay..." she replied, still doubting my excuse.

I was growing increasingly annoyed as I waited for Regina under the stinking bleachers. The place absolutely reeked, and I had been tapping my foot in irritation for far too long.

"I'm a bit surprised you actually showed up."

Regina stated as she approached me with a confident stride.

I responded in a sarcastic tone, rolling my eyes, "Yeah, blackmailing me about my friends really works wonders."

I glanced around, surprised not to see Gretchen and Karen accompanying her, as usual.

I couldn't help but comment, "Where are your backscratching bootlickers?" I raised an eyebrow.

With a slight tilt of her head she responded with a snarky remark, "Your mouth is still as vulgar as ever, i guess some things never change."

"As if you're any better." I mumbled under my breath, too low for her to hear

"Woah woah, dating!?" I replied, thoroughly taken aback. "No way am i going to be your girlfriend!"

Regina quickly corrected me, "Pretend." She rolled her eyes, growing impatient with me. "Do you want Tina back?" She asked, her annoyance clear. "Then there's no question about it.

I wrestled with the idea, questioning if it was even worth the effort.

My face twisted in doubt as I questioned her plan. "How do you even know this will work?"

Regina's voice took on a venomous tone as she snapped, "Can you just shut up and trust me?"

My scoff turned into a mocking laugh. "Trust you, Regina?" I taunted

-

I sat alone in my darkened room, tears streaming down my face as I clutched my teddy bear tightly for comfort. My room looked like a cyclone had gone through it; pillows and blankets scattered every which way, and pieces of paper and pictures torn up. I could hear my mother's concerned voice outside my door, saying Regina wanted to talk to me. I shouted back, my voice shaking with anger, "Tell her to fuck off!"

-

I scoffed in disbelief. "Right, because the last time I trusted you really worked out well for me." The memory of her betrayal still stung.

"Can we not discuss that right now?" Regina replied sharply, but my anger remained.

The audacity of this bitch is terrifying!

"We're going to have to work together, so if you keep bringing it up, you're just making this more uncomfortable than it already is."

My anger gradually faded, replaced by a begrudging acceptance. I hated to admit it, but she was right

— we I couldn't keep dwelling on the past if we were going to make this plan work.

I reluctantly agreed, "Fine," Part of me yearned for an acknowledgement, for her to address the past, but her lack of response just left me feeling disappointed.

Regina sneered disdainfully, her gaze traveling along my entire body, her eyes judging me. "What the fuck are you wearing?" she taunted, as if I had committed a fashion felony.

I looked down at my clothes, feeling a bit self-conscious. "What?" I replied defensively, unsure of the issue.

Regina abruptly grabbed my wrist, her touch surprisingly warm. Without a word, she began pulling me towards her red Jeep.

"where are you tak—" I started, but she quickly cut me off, her words laced with annoyance.

"I am not going to be seen with an outdated loser," she retorted, her grip not relenting as we approached her vehicle.

I stumbled slightly as she practically dragged me along, trying to protest, "It's just a band tee!"

My wrist felt the absence of her touch as Regina turned to open the driver's door of her Jeep.

As she settled into the driver's seat I glanced back at the passenger and the back seat, debating where to sit.

Opting for the safer choice, I reached out for the back door handle before Regina interrupted me.

"Sit in the passenger seat, idiot," she ordered, her tone cutting through the air.

Reluctantly, I opened the passenger door and slid into the seat beside Regina, sitting a slight distance away from her. As she started the jeep and began driving, I turned my gaze towards the window.

I tried once more to get an answer, my eyes still glued to the outside world.

"Seriously," I persisted, "where are we going?"

Regina's response was brief, "Shopping," she replied. "If I'm going to pretend to date you, you at least need some proper clothes."

The cafeteria felt oddly silent as a murmur of whispers surrounded me. I couldn't tell if it was my anxiety playing tricks on me, but the atmosphere felt eerily hushed.

"I hate this," I muttered under my breath, feeling the weight of everyone's gazes upon me. Wearing the clothes Regina had deemed socially acceptable yesterday made me feel even more out of place right now.

My train of thought came to a halt as my phone buzzed with a notification. It was a message from Regina: "Stop standing there like a statue. Come sit with us."

I glanced at my phone, finding a flurry of messages from my friends group chat. "Where are you?" and "What the hell are you wearing" filled the screen. I reluctantly raised my gaze to our usual table, only to see my friends staring at me, bewildered. Swiftly muting my phone, I headed towards the plastics table.

'Took you long enough,' she muttered, as I approached, her eyes glued to her phone, no doubt scrolling through Instagram.

Gretchen, a hint of false enthusiasm in her expression, looks up from her phone. "Why's she here?" she asks, peering at Regina through raised eyebrows.

Regina retorts with a deadpan tone, rolling her eyes slightly, "To sit with us.”

Gretchen, her voice rising in pitch, exclaims, "What?! She can't-" only to be cut off by Regina's firm interject.

"Sit," Regina says, her inflection leaving no room for argument.

I hesitantly moved to sit across them.

"Hey, sorry- uh," I greet, looking between Karen and Gretchen with a mix of confusion and frustration. "Why am I sitting here? This is not part of the plan!" I whisper-yelled at Regina, leaning in closer to avoid being overheard.

With a roll of her eyes, Regina replied, "Just go with it." She set her phone down, adding, "Tina's watching".

I glanced around the cafeteria, spotting Tina seated with her clique, watching me intently. In that moment, our eyes met, confirming that the first step of Regina's plan had been successfully executed.

Step one:Complete

A/N: next part is cadys arrival😱🥶

[mochidoie]

the summer of us ☼

kim doyoung x reader wc - 8.6k genre - slow burn, fluff, slightly angsty, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining warnings - kiss scene a/n - italicized sections are written as flashbacks, while regular texts correspond with the present

You and Doyoung reunite at your high school reunion. Him, just as he has always been. You, bolder but just as beautiful. Upon meeting again, the memories of the one summer you two shared during your college years resurface, along with the same romantic feelings that never had a proper ending. Will that summer love find its way back to your present?

The only people who show up to high school reunions are those who used to be popular and lonely individuals. It’s the people who reminisce about their glory days in the tight hallways and how everyone knew their name. It’s for the people who currently have no one back in their hometown and are looking to rekindle old flames or friendships. Doyoung was neither one of these, and yet, here he is standing in the middle of his old high school gymnasium amongst his past peers and barely making out familiar faces in this mood lighting.

There were predictable appearances: Johnny was King of the Field, wore his letterman jacket nearly every day of senior year until the leather wore out and crusted off. Mina was captain of the cheerleading squad, admired by many but envied by most. Jaehyun was the campus sweetheart, confession letters and gifts would flood out of his locker on Valentine’s day. 

They are all holding onto that piece of glory, making remarks on how they wish they could go back in time to experience it all over again. Nothing in their current lives gives them that same thrill. It’s sad and for a brief moment, Doyoung genuinely pitied them. 

Some unexpected faces took him by surprise: Taeyong was his lab partner for most of his projects, his mind was always on a creative tangent at such a young age. Yuta was the underrated soccer star, he was humble in his skill, but extremely competitive in everything he did. Haechan was that underclassman that never hung out with his own grade, but he could crunch numbers faster than anyone in the school.

And you. You, who walked in with a dress that fit perfectly and painted lips that curved into a sweet smile, a smile that Doyoung found himself wanting a glimpse of throughout the night. You were quiet and so much more timid back then, always trying to blend into the background of things.

Nonetheless, Doyoung had shared the same sentiments except an unlikely friendship with Mark really gave him a leg up in high school with the popular crowd. But, Doyoung always saw you and formed a silent camaraderie between the two of you without your knowledge. 

Why would you come? He didn’t understand. If it wasn’t for Mark’s insanely theatrical pleas to attend, Doyoung would happily be on his couch watching his reality dating shows. It seemed out of character and some could say the same for him. However, Doyoung didn’t actually know you well enough to understand your reasoning. 

Mark nudges Doyoung, “hey… who is that?” Gesturing toward your figure by the makeshift bar, Doyoung tries to think how to formulate your identity to Mark. Did Mark even know of your existence prior? Doyoung thought. 

“I think it’s… y/n?” He doesn’t sound confident, in fact, there is a slight quiver when he says your name. Mark confusingly stares at Doyoung and he can read his mind before Mark even asks.

“Who?” 

Rolling his eyes, he patiently explains. “Junior year chemistry. I’m pretty sure you two sat next to each other in class.” Doyoung brings his glass to his lips. 

Mark tilts his head, an expression of great pondering on his face. Unconsciously, Doyoung’s eyes follow you at every step. He is still trying to process seeing how much you’ve changed. 

“How did you remember something like that?” Mark laughs, biting the cookie he has been rolling between his fingers. 

Doyoung shrugs nonchalantly, “I had to stare at your big head the whole period and all the posers who tried to be your best friend during class.” It isn’t a complete lie, Doyoung did pay attention to his good friend during class, but only because he had to sit a few rows behind him.

He isn’t going to reveal the silent alliance he created between the two of you. The two quiet ones, navigating the world of high school in their own way and trying to graduate without a trace of who they were during those years. That’s what Doyoung wanted for himself.

“We should catch up, what do you say?” Mark suggests to Doyoung. You’ve made your way toward the center of the draped tables, trapped between Johnny and Jaehyun. Those two idiots probably have no recollection of who you are. “You can reintroduce me.” 

Doyoung scoffs, “you don’t need an introduction. You’re literally valedictorian Mark Lee.” The two of them make their way toward you. With every step closer, Doyoung’s throat dries up. If there is any need for liquid courage, it would be now. 

The truth is that Doyoung has exchanged several small conversations with you during your adolescence, so you two are acquaintances at best. However, there was one summer between the first and second year of college where the two of you ran into each other quite frequently. It was enough to where the two of you were actually friends, one could even argue more than that.

Doyoung always hated the heat that came with summers at home. It was partially the reason why he decided to go away for college in a city without changing seasons. Beads of sweat run down the sides of his forehead as he seeks air conditioning in a crowded gelato shop.

He had just finished an intense soccer match with Yuta. It probably was one of the worst decisions to do during the highest temperatures of the year. The copious amount of sunscreen has most likely melted off of his body with the amount of sweat he was producing and all his water dried up from sitting in the sun. 

He digs in his pockets for spare change for the sweet treat, not thinking how much he would be suffering from the hot weather. 

“I can help the next person.” A voice calls and Doyoung is frantically rummaging through his pockets for more bills. When he looks up, a familiar face shares a slightly shocked expression over the fridge counters. You call his name and instantly, Doyoung feels flushed at your great memory. 

Your name tag hangs crookedly on your apron and Doyoung recognizes it immediately. “Hey! It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have expected to bump into you.” Your giddiness warms Doyoung’s chest. He had forgotten how inviting you were the moment you would speak. Your features were slightly the same, but definitely a bit older. You weren’t wearing your glasses and your hair was neatly pulled into a ponytail. 

“I just came back for the summer.” Doyoung pulls out some loose change, damp from his sweaty hands. “When did you work here?”

“I started the summer after we graduated. I come back during the breaks to help out.” Before Doyoung could respond, a voice cuts the feverish reunion and reminds him he is holding up the line for gelato. 

You chuckle timidly to yourself, “anyways, what can I get you?” 

Doyoung, now pressured by the line of impatient customers, chooses his favorite mango sorbet before he could glance at any other options. When you ring him up, he counts his change in his palm and groans. 

“Ah, I’m short two dollars. It’s okay, I won’t get it. I’m sorry to waste your time.” Doyoung pouts, ready to hide under a rock for being a complete embarrassment the first time you are seeing each other again.

You grasp his wrist quickly, “Wait, it’s on me.” Placing the cone in his hand, you fiddle with something on the register and smile sweetly at him. 

Doyoung feels the world stop and can’t find the words to express his gratitude. “Thanks.” He whispers, deer eyes wide and mouth open. 

“No problem. It was good seeing you again, Doyoung.” You’re already trying to move on to help the next available customer, while Doyoung mindlessly blinks at the cone in his hand. It was really nice seeing you and he wonders to himself if there could be another chance. 

It’s a relief when Mark saves you from the conversation with Johnny and Jaehyun. He does so happily and cluelessly at the tactics of their flirting and lack of your identity. It actually almost comes to a shock to you that Mark remembered you, not that the two of you shared any conversation between one another during class. It isn’t until your eyes fall upon the other individual behind him. 

All tall and lean, Doyoung stands before you after all this time. The memories of that one summer together flash by in a millisecond and all the feelings come rushing back like adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Then, a mixture of disappointment and sadness fill your heart, gazing upon Doyoung’s stare, it’s apologetic. With Mark’s chirpiness in the way, you try your best to pretend that you and Doyoung had no prior affairs. 

“Wow, can you believe how long it’s been? My mom still talks about your valedictorian speech, Mark.” Doyoung can see right through you. The fakeness is full in your tone, like you’re trying so hard to convince everyone that you’re fine and after all this time, alright with seeing Doyoung. 

“Yeah, that speech. I swear I blacked out because I can’t even remember it.” Mark laughs, rubbing the back of his neck in a shy manner. “But how have you been, y/n?” 

“I’ve been good. Busy with work and enjoying life at the same time.” Keeping your answer vague, you direct your attention to Doyoung. “How have you been?” 

He is taken aback by the sudden shift, despite very clearly being part of this three way conversation without any contribution other than his presence. Clearing his throat, he begins with, “good. I’ve been busy with work too.”

Mark continues, poking at Doyoung’s arm to slightly tease him. “This guy became a workaholic after we graduated college. He is the first person I knew that got a job right away and has been slaving away since.” 

Doyoung feels embarrassed as his friend describes the lamest life that he has been living. He almost speaks up to defend himself or mention how all those years of hard work has earned him a golden plaque for his loyalty with the company. 

“That’s really impressive, Doyoung.” Your breathy compliment causes his heart to skip a beat. He looks at you, noting the sadness in your eyes. “I’ve been jumping around jobs for awhile. It’s been hard figuring out what I want to do with my career, sometimes I think back on how easy life was when I was scooping gelato.”

Gelato takes Doyoung back to that summer again. All the warm nights he waited for you to close up the shop, how your clothes would smell like sweet waffle batter, and you’d always come out with a scoop of mango sorbet just for him. All the nights he wished he was brave enough to kiss you. 

“Doyoung, you don’t have to wait for me!” Your smile doesn’t leave your face upon seeing him outside the shop, hands in his pockets and head up high watching the stars. At this point, it’s routine that the boy would show up five minutes before closing time and patiently wander outside until you were ready to leave.

You thought it was a coincidence to bump into him after one of your shifts, but he kept showing up. After a few times, you began to realize that he was intentionally waiting for you. Never questioning why, Doyoung walked you home every night as you two reminisced about the moments in high school or new memories you both had made in college.

Slowly, you two got to know each other very well. Doyoung told you about his dreams and you told him about your family. He knew your closest friends and your favorite memories about them. You knew facts about his brother and their upbringing, family traditions during holidays and vacations spent at the ski lodge despite not knowing how to ski. 

Occasionally, the two of you would stop by boardwalk and walk down to the beach. Doyoung would pat off the sand to the bench for you to sit beside him. You’d keep a respectable distance, with your hands in your lap and hair blowing in the warm wind. Doyoung’s eyes would sparkle along with the street lamps and you’d both be secretly enchanted by one another. 

These were the summer nights that you wished upon the moon and stars that Doyoung would kiss you. 

“You worked at the gelato shop by the boardwalk?” Mark asked, excited and completely oblivious to the can of worms he is about to open leading with that question. 

Chuckling, you glance sly at Doyoung. “Yes, it was my summer job. My sister knew the manager that worked there, so I’d help out during the summer when I came home.”

Mark lightly slaps Doyoung on the chest and he coughs at the sudden impact, jolting and nearly spilling the drink in his hand. “Doyoung used to rave about the mango sorbet at that place, didn’t you?”

Doyoung nodded. It comes as a confirmation to you that Mark doesn’t know anything that happened between you and Doyoung that summer. You’re all laughing awkwardly, Doyoung a bit more nervously than you and Mark.

“Yeah and he’d always say how it was his favorite of all time, that nothing could compare–”

“--Okay, Mark. I think we can drop the mango sorbet debate.” Doyoung firmly pats Mark on the shoulder to get him to please shut the fuck up. He couldn’t take any more of his friend’s clueless babbling, especially not to you about all the subliminal messages.

“It’s good. They make it in house, peeled over a hundred mangoes in the back every morning.” Speaking very matter of factly, your face is full of angst. 

Mark and Doyoung blink at you in disbelief. He feels bad about all the nights you’d get him a scoop, not knowing you practically worked away your life for it. “Wait, seriously?”

“No.” You laugh and your face lightens up, “that would be actual hell if I did. We had frozen mangoes with a premade syrup.” Doyoung forgot about your humor and how much he enjoyed it. He found himself laughing along, thinking about how melodic your sounds of happiness are.  

In the midst of your chuckles, someone calls for Mark from across the auditorium. He excuses himself and hurries joyfully over to another old classmate. The air instantly becomes suffocating between you and Doyoung. Without a third party there to ignore the elephant in the room, the two of you avert eye contact and stand stiffly. 

“So..” Doyoung clears his throat, unsure how to work around the awkwardness. “Why did you decide to come? I never thought I’d see you at something as lame as this.” 

“Are you implying I’m too cool to show up here?” He got you to relax a bit, earning a small chuckle at how he phrased his question. Your shoulders drop the tension that caused it to stick by your chin. 

“Of course.” You weren’t necessarily popular back in high school, so you had no reason to come back and gloat about the past. He isn’t sure about your current social life, but surely it isn’t lonely enough to want to come back and rekindle old ones, especially with these amateurs. 

“Well, I appreciate that thought. I had a feeling you’d be here.” Your eyes wander the floor, calculating your next words very carefully. While you had no idea how Doyoung feels about you right now, you wanted to test the waters. If it comes to be bad, then you can avoid him for the rest of your life. If it turns out well, who knows? There wouldn’t be another missed chance.

“Oh god, I’m so uncool that you’d expect me to show up?” Doyoung pretends to be offended, or maybe he actually is. You aren’t sure, but he holds his hand to his chest as if he is. “I’ll have to rebrand myself going forward.”

“No, no. It’s not you. I saw Mark tag you in the comments of the announcement post.” Peering up, Doyoung lets out an exasperated sigh at the fact that Mark was the culprit. He should’ve known that Mark basically announced their attendance via social media. “So, I figured you might show up.” 

“It is a hundred percent Mark. He dressed me himself and dragged me out the door to come to this.” He rolls his eyes and finishes his drink in one big gulp. 

Doyoung scans the room one last time at all the people that came to the reunion. To his surprise, there was a decent amount of attendees and everyone looked like themselves more or less. Everyone remained recognizable to a degree, but no one made an entrance like you did. 

Then, the conversation clicks in his head. Like someone turned the lights on in his head, he understands the intent behind your responses. You didn’t come to see him, perhaps? 

It is as if you could see the gears in his mind turn in real time. You smile and close the distance between the two of you. “I came to this lame reunion because I wanted to see you again.” 

And like that, Doyoung is brought back to the world stopping feeling he felt several years ago in that gelato shop, your hand on his wrist and a cone of mango sorbet in his hand. His eyes resembled a baby deer in headlights and his mouth agape. His heart is loud in his ears and pressure in his throat. 

He isn’t sure how he should proceed. Doyoung fumbled his chances with you long ago, at least that’s what he had thought. Barely processing your confession, he stammers over his words. 

“Want to head out?” 

A wide grin spreads across your lips, lifting your cheeks high on your face. “What about Mark?”

“He’ll manage.” Doyoung doesn’t even look for his good friend in the crowd, knowing that Mark was going to leave him for a random old acquaintance sooner or later into the night. This, however, was an opportunity Doyoung didn’t know he’d ever come across again. “I’ve waited long enough to have a chance like this again.” 

Your eyes light up at his statement, like a spark to a new flame erupting inside of you. Doyoung extends his hand for you to take and softly, you accept his grip and let him guide you outside of that dreary gymnasium. 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

“Did you know that Bethany had the biggest crush on you?” Kicking your feet in the air, you’re giggling at the silly high school secrets you had always kept to yourself. Doyoung shoots up from the blanket on the sand and turns to face you, utterly horrified by the new piece of old information. 

You had an early shift today and managed to catch the sunset with Doyoung. He had brought his picnic blanket for you two to enjoy the views right on the beach. The pink and orange hues paint the sky above you, faint sounds of seagulls in the distance and of waves crashing against the shore set the mood. 

You two could talk for hours, without a care in the universe and any concept of time. Doyoung is mesmerized by your perspective and way with words. You’re astonished by the wisdom and empathy Doyoung holds. From one quiet kid to another, you two sure felt comfort in each other. 

“Blonde Beth?!” Doyoung exclaims.

You sit up with him, matching the higher level of energy. “Yes. She was so into you!”

He blinks in disbelief, never thinking someone like Bethany would have a crush on him in high school. Not that he is any better now, but he isn’t sure how well he was perceived in his adolescents. “How did you know?”

“You’re always such a skeptic.” Your eyes watch the horizon. The round, golden sun barely hits the glimmering water. “I sat at the same table as her and her friends in math class. She talked about you quite often.”

Doyoung follows your gaze toward the sunset. He contemplates long and hard. “What a strange crush.”

Scoffing, you briefly glance over at him. There, Doyoung sits with his knees hugged to his chest and a look of deep thought. The sun kisses his skin so lovingly, highlighting his sharp facial features. The light breeze blows his tousled bangs over his forehead. Doyoung looks like he was chiseled by the gods, just absolutely unreal. 

It strikes you like a chord. In the midst of this summer sunset, you were falling for Doyoung. 

When he peers over and meets your eyes, something drops in the pit of your stomach. A sudden shyness accompanies your chest and it compels you to look away, but you remain locked in and lost in his starry pupils. You find yourself breathless, mouth open to speak but words caught in your throat.

Nonetheless, you catch yourself before it becomes suspicious. “W-Why would it be strange?” Gulping, your mind is running circles at your realization. 

“Because I swear she hated me. I would always beat her by one point in our exams and there was always a rivalry between us.” Doyoung ponders, barely able to make out the memories of the girl from his classes. He never acknowledged her enough to remember. 

He hears your chuckle, snapping his attention at you. “You’re so dense. She probably had an enemies to lovers type thing going on for you.” 

“A what?” Doyoung snarls.

“Enemies to lovers… like you hated each other so much that you ended up liking them.” Your voice grows small at the ridiculous explanation. You may have revealed too much of your personal interests and hobbies to a boy who only reads textbooks and self help books.

It was Doyoung’s turn to laugh, but right in your face at the silly description. “Is that something you like reading in your literature?” 

“Perhaps. I’ve already said too much.” You fume, laying back down on the blanket. Your back hits the firm sand with a thud and you close your eyes out of embarrassment.

“I’ll confirm with you right now that I’m more of a friends to lovers type guy. I can never hate someone so much that I end up liking them. My disdain for them would linger.” The blanket shifts a bit underneath you. When you open your eyes, he is hovering over you with a kind grin.

A veiny arm is situated by either side of your head. You nearly gasp at the sudden perspective of Doyoung above you, keeping your own arms close to your chest. Your heart races quickly, anticipating his next move. 

“You’re not trying to fall asleep on the beach, right?” He laughs, his chain slipping out of his shirt and dangling from his neck. “If you’re tired, let me walk you back.”

A rush of flustered emotions cascade over your weak body. Dizziness quickly accompanies your head, like the sight of Doyoung looking dreamily above you is enough to cause you to faint. You pat your hot cheeks, giving small slaps to wake you from this embarrassing feeling you’re experiencing over a friend.

Doyoung laughs at your gesture, oblivious to why you’re just hitting yourself. “Enough, don’t want you to hurt your pretty face.” 

Like a straw to a camel’s back, that is the last thing you’ll let yourself get ruffled over. Sitting up, you’re inches from Doyoung’s lips. He blinks at your sudden proximity and immediately widens his eyes.

Gulping, your breath dances softly on his cherry red pout. “Let’s go.”

He follows your lead, grabbing his blanket in a swift motion and dusting off the sand from the fabric. Nonetheless, you don’t wait around or help him. Instead, you’re already up on the curb and recollecting everything that just happened, all the feelings that had surfaced. Confused, but excited to feel your heart bursting with the rays of the summer sun.

 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

“So, this is where you live. I remember requesting a tour for one of the units when it was in its developmental phase. I’m happy to see that it lives up to the pictures and that someone I know lives here.” You walk around Doyoung’s living room aimlessly, pinching at the cover of the couch, dusting your finger on the window shades, inspecting the ceiling fixtures. 

“You’re restless. Take a seat before you spot something that will cause me to hyperfixate.” He chuckles, patting the seat next to him on the sofa and placing a glass of water for you on a cute coaster. 

For a brief moment, you hesitate sitting so close to him. It wasn’t like all the ill feelings you held simply disappeared upon seeing him. There is still a part of you that didn’t forgive him, didn’t wish to be so friendly again.

Nonetheless, Doyoung had always been attentive and observant. He catches on immediately, scooting over to another chair that had a big stuffed penguin plush. Clearing his throat, he gestures to the spot once more now that he created a comfortable distance. “Why did you decide on another place?”

“It was closer to my ex at the time.” Your casualness catches Doyoung off guard, as he watches you finally take a seat. “He kept complaining about our commute to each other and I was in need of a new apartment fast, so it just settled that way.” 

Doyoung nods, like he understands despite not fully. He can’t imagine moving closer for anyone beside himself or going without a compromise from both parties. “Then, does your ex still live near you?”

“No, I told him to move far away so that I would never have to see him again. I’m all about setting boundaries.” The person Doyoung knew you to be would never have been that bold, would not have known how to set boundaries firmly. Like an ember catching a light, a spark appears in his eyes as he takes in your physicalities again. 

Now under proper lighting, Doyoung can really see all of you. The dress did more for you than he had noticed before, bringing out your confidence and kissing your skin tone. The satin on your lips is seductive, but saccharine paired with your smile. Voluminous curls frame your face perfectly and when he finally takes a long look at your features – he is astonished all over again at how beautiful you are. 

He clears his throat, “boundaries are important.” It’s all he can say while still enamored by your newfound confidence and looks.

“What about you? Have you been in any relationships since we last saw each other?” 

Doyoung tries to piece together his response delicately, mostly because he didn’t want to sound like a complete loner and corporate loser. Truthfully, after the summer together, Doyoung could not stop thinking about you. It was an endless cycle of wanting to reach out again, but he never found it in himself to do so. When you nearly fell off the face of the digital world, he tried to put his efforts into other people. 

Failing horribly, he couldn’t find anything remotely close to what you and he had shared in a few months. A connection so powerful and genuine, a fresh breath of air that filled his lungs every time he thoughtfully inhaled. A feeling that warmed not only his skin, but his heart that he no longer despised the hot weather. Doyoung found himself looking for you in everyone he met, only to be faced with utter disappointment when they were nowhere close.

With all his withered attempts at romance, he gave up. He settled on being alone for this portion of his life and didn’t desire that fleeting feeling of romance he had once felt. Because at the end of all his days, he’d come home to this empty apartment and pretend to be content with himself when he had lost the opportunity to be with you. 

So when he begins with his calculated reply, he mentally prepares himself for your reaction. “I haven’t. I’m married to my work.” His eyes flicker at your expression, trying to make out the sympathy in your pupils and dip in your frown.

“You haven’t changed at all.” When you examine Doyoung, he is just as you remembered him that summer. With his sharp features, quick wit, quiet demeanor and all of his dedication, Kim Doyoung remains exactly like how he had left you that temperate night.

He is all the man that you had fallen for and longed for in your present. It’s a bit sad all the times you would wallow in it — the crush that became undying on a man who only smiled brighten when you were around. A man who is intelligent, trivial, and hungry for success that he is willingly to dedicate his entire life to it. Yet, he is a man who is also kind, soft, and attentive to others around him that caring for others comes second nature to him. 

With the time that has passed since you two last spoke, you had wondered if he had changed to be more cynical, withholding his heart and laughter to those who tried to grow close to him or if he had opened up and shared his kindness to someone who is worthy of it. To your countless of painted possibilities, Doyoung had done neither and a part of you finds immense comfort in him all over again. 

Doyoung isn’t sure how to interpret your statement. Greatly puzzled, he tilts his head and asks, “is that a bad thing?” Swallowing the lump of spit gathered in his throat, he anxiously overthinks your implications.

Instantly, you note his change from relaxed to tense. His jaw is clenched as he crosses his legs, neatly folding his hands together and resting them on his lap. You’ve made him uneasy, but it only makes you chuckle at how unnerved he is. 

So when you answer him, he is vastly surprised and speechless. “No, I’ve always liked you the way you are.”

He ponders and lets the adrenaline take its course of action. Without another thought or hesitation, he matches your boldness. “You’ve changed.” 

The proclamation feels sudden, so much that it genuinely catches you off guard. There is a slight whiplash you experience with how quick Doyoung’s words hit you. Although there is no accusatory tone that lingers, there is some sense of self consciousness. 

“Is that bad?” You take his same words to use against him. Instead of feeling tense and perceived, you somehow feel defensive. All the years that you two haven’t encountered one another, you’ve worked hard to be the person you love now. 

You acknowledge how quiet and hidden you were in the past. The person that never wanted to be noticed, often wanting to hide behind their hair or clothes. You used to speak just barely above a whisper, scared that any louder would draw the unwanted attention of others around. Only spoke when spoken to, only looked up when tapped, that was just the way you were. 

High school was never a comfortable time for you, but wasn’t it like that for everyone? Seemingly awkward and unrevealing to who someone truly is. It had been a feeling that troubled you greatly, that you felt fearful to be too bold, too audacious. You couldn’t wait to graduate silently and move on from that version of yourself.

“No, no. It’s not bad at all.” Doyoung puts his hands up, waving them in a worrisome manner. He settles back into his seat, sitting back against the bouncy cushion and leaning his chin on his fist.

There is a brief stiffness in the air, like Doyoung had more to say. Watching his eyelashes flutter over at you, he eats you up under his long gaze. You shift oddly in your place, heart pounding in your throat and feeling slightly flushed under his spotlight. 

He speaks with a low voice, but it is gentle and firm. “I think I see you more clearly now.” His eyes trail down to your toes and back up to the curls that frame your face. An audible gasp escapes your lips, a lack of words fallen upon you.

With every second spent with Doyoung, it has slowly eroded away at the resentment and sadness you felt prior. You wish for nothing more than to be closer to him, to feel his fingertips dance across your hot skin. This is not a foreign feeling, but one that you knew too well. 

“Funny that you only see me now when I had been right in front of you for an entire summer.” Fumbling with your purse, you peer away from his sultry stare. The air in the room suffocates you, like a sticky humid day.

“You misinterpret my statement.” He is quick to answer. “I have always seen you. The person who tried so hard to fade in the background in high school, the person who was still trying to figure themselves in college, and now, the person you fully find yourself to be.” 

There is a heaviness that fills your chest, like guilt that you had held such a tremendous grudge after so long. Wallowing in your angst, you try to process his words thoughtfully. When you don’t say anything, Doyoung’s voice continues on and his heart fills his words.

“You know, I go back to that summer every year, just recalling and regretting.” Doyoung sighs, emptying his lungs into one breath. He finally feels ready to address the elephant in the room, the words he never said. With you as beautifully before him once again, Doyoung never dared to imagine this chance because he knew he didn’t deserve it. 

“What would you have done differently?” You seldomly ask. 

And when you glimpse up at him with glossy eyes, Doyoung’s confession pours from his lips effortlessly. “I’d tell you how you made me feel – seen and whole. Because I knew you saw me too and accepted me with all my flaws. It’s like you saw my soul and understood me for the person I was. Then, I’d kiss you, I’d kiss you like the world was ending.”

“Desperately and holding onto the last glimpse of hope?” Chuckling, your heart literally feels like it could burst any second looking at him. 

Doyoung stands up, taking small steps forward and closing the distance between you two. Making room for him to sit next to you, his knee radiates heat against your own. He smiles sweetly, “desperately, yes, but as if nothing else mattered than being there with you in that moment.”

Finally face to face, it feels impossible to resist each other’s aura. “I would like that.” Your eyes flicker from his lips to his pupils. His eyebrows raise slightly and like clockwork, the gears in his head are spinning at full force until everything clicks.

Without another thought or a second to lose, Doyoung pulls you toward him by your wrist and your lips land hastily on top of his. Staining him with the color of your lipstick, you’re gliding effortlessly. Immediately, all the romantic feelings from that summer flood both of your chests’.

Doyoung kicks the sand that loosely piles the boardwalk. His hands shoved into his shorts as his attention turned to the sound of your voice. This night between the both of you feels weirdly melancholy. It was a third of the way into summer and you were the only person Doyoung wanted to be around. 

Beyond the nostalgia, the family traditions, the dreams, there was one part of each other that you two never shared. All until he hears the drip of sadness in your voice, “you want to know something?”

“Of course.” When it came to you, he wasn’t sure if he had the power to say no.

The stars hang low and the moon twinkles at the highest point of the night. The chatter from the normally busy boardwalk has been replaced by sounds of waves crashing in the distance and all the shops have gone dark. The smell of sweet waffle batter lingers from your clothes and the chilly summer breeze blows at the strands of your hair. 

“I’ve still never had my first kiss.” It had been a long kept secret, feeling embarrassed that someone at your age hadn’t experienced a simple kiss. You had thought that the moment you entered college, everything was going to change and you were going to experience it all. 

However, the romantic in you wouldn’t allow it. In all the books you read, you only hoped for a magical kiss that swept you off your feet. One that deemed itself memorable, that would have you replaying over and over in your head. A kiss so full of passion that it would destroy you to pull away from.

“It’s nothing amazing.” Doyoung dully answers, noting the pout on your face the moment he says it. He immediately feels bad for damping the mood even further. “Sorry, that’s not what I mean.” 

“How was your first kiss?” You lay that million dollar question on him so innocently. 

He genuinely couldn’t even remember how his first kiss was. All he could make out was how sweaty his palms were and how he threw up right afterwards. “It was mediocre. I think it was with someone random at a freshman welcoming party. I had too much to drink and barfed on the curb right after it happened.”

The sound of your melodic laugh causes him to follow. “Hey!” He points, the reoccuring grin appearing on his face, “don’t you dare laugh. I shared that in secrecy. It was a very vulnerable moment for me.”

You hold your stomach from the intense chuckles, tears rimming your eyes. “I appreciate the vulnerability. It made me feel a lot better.” 

Amidst the robust laughter, Doyoung found himself wanting to be the reason behind your happiness. A burning sensation spread across his chest, intense enough to where he thought he might’ve had a bad sunburn. He peers over at your giggling figure again. 

Your mouth opened in a toothy smile, your cheekbones high up on your face. Under the dimly lit boardwalk, Doyoung’s heart races at how stunning you look hunched over and just doing something as simple as laughing. Joy matches you so well and he can’t seem to look away.

It’s like the wind knocked the air out of his lungs, but he falls breathless at the realization. Underneath the stars of this summer night, Doyoung was falling for you. 

When your laughter comes to a gradual stop, Doyoung snaps out of his internal confusion of these new blossoming feelings for you. He bids you a small smile, “what I meant to say was that first kisses don’t have to be the special one. All it takes is the right person at the right time. A kiss like that would trump any first kiss.” 

“You sure say that with a lot of vindication. Do you think you’ve experienced that yet?” Curious eyes fall upon him, you watch him like a spectacle and he grows nervous under your gaze.

“Definitely not. All I’ve experienced are wrong persons and wrong times.” It is a mindless thought he let escape and he doesn’t hope you read too much between the lines. He surely did not include you in that statement whatsoever. You had to be the right person, deep down somewhere he knew that. “Those are once in a lifetime moments, that's why I think they're so special.”

“I like that perspective.” You nod knowingly. “I hope to experience something like that one day too.” Your head drops to your hands, fiddling your thumbs at the thought of something so remarkable. 

Doyoung could kiss you right here. He’d pick up your chin and dive right into you. He’d give you your first kiss and something even more special. Nonetheless, his body remains stuck on his side of the bench. It’s as if he physically cannot get himself to do it, as if rushing into it wouldn’t be a good idea. 

He doesn’t know or understand why his body stayed frozen in place. As much as the desire to kiss you stirred within the pit of his stomach, there seems to be a barrier halting him from acting on it. Almost like his mind is telling him that this isn’t the right time, not yet.

Hands in your curls, Doyoung presses his face deeper into you. Both of your hearts pulse rapidly at the long awaited kiss. Your trembling fingertips brush his cheek and his knees grow weak at every inch you touch. Your lips dance together like they’ve known the steps this whole time.

Doyoung kisses you like the world really is ending, like the only two people who exist are you and him. It’s beyond romantic– it’s feverish, transcendent, and special. Kissing him has your feelings bursting into a chaotic, wild flame that only he can put out from this moment forward.

You kiss him like you’ve known him all his life and everything has led up to now, like the right person at the right time. This has been the kiss he has been patiently waiting for, growing for, all of this time has amounted to this one beautiful moment with you. You grip his arm, holding onto him tightly and afraid that he’d let go, that if your lips parted, it would completely destroy you.

Until you’re both gasping for air and joints in pain from the awkward position you’ve made your way in, the kiss comes to an end. Doyoung blinks with round, innocent eyes and puffy stained lips, truly stuck in a daze. His hair resembles a bird's nest, sticking out at random directions and clearly disheveled. 

You pull down the part of your dress that managed to ride up on your thighs, tidying the strands of flyaways around your face. When your eyes meet and shyly part, you’re both bursting into laughter and the steamy tension in the tiny apartment dissipates instantly. This is how it should’ve been. 

Your thumb smears the remaining lipstick that painted Doyoung’s lips, doing your best to wipe away the mess. He catches your wrist in the midst of it, “I’m sorry for ever hurting you in the past.” 

With your mouth agape, you’re unsure how to respond. With a long awaited kiss, came a long awaited apology, that is something that Doyoung knew well. You deserve every ounce of his sincerity and explanation. He gulps, anticipating whatever you may throw in his direction. Despite being full fledged adults, Doyoung feels as if he is back in his early adult years and still foolish when it comes to his feelings for you.

“I just never understood why you ran away, why you had so many excuses.” Reliving that memory has been painful, but less as time passed. It had been a tremendous part of your growth, even if it wasn’t something you wanted to experience.

The end of summer finally dawned on the two of you. Doyoung had been distant the last few days, but played it off as needing to pack for his trip back to college. You respected his space, but it would be a lie if you didn’t hope to see him waiting for you after your final shifts at the gelato shop.

All the bright days and breezy nights spent together were going to stay with you for a long time moving forward. Never did you think that you and Kim Doyoung would reunite and grow so close. Along with that, you never thought that you’d grow to like him so much. 

You’ve tossed and turned long enough. Now that Doyoung is leaving, you’d feel regretful if you didn’t let your good friend know at the very least how you felt. So, on the night before he makes his way back to school, he agrees to meet you on the pier for a goodbye.   

Doyoung is already leaning over the ledge, peering out into the dark waves in deep thought. He had been so conflicted the past few weeks, coming to the realization of his romantic feelings for you. He knew that meeting you again and growing close had that possibility, but he was unable to think that far ahead. He just wished to enjoy every waking moment with you. 

This summer with you had been a dream, one that he didn’t want to wake from. Now that he had to go, he didn’t know how to proceed. He had considered a confession, but what then? In the sheer chance that you reciprocate, he couldn’t give you the relationship you wanted. He couldn’t be there waiting for you after your shifts like he did here. He was going to be miles apart and so zoned into his studies. 

The internal conflict ate him alive, avoiding to see you on the last few days of summer you two had left. It was selfish on his part, but couldn’t let his feelings grow more to the point of recklessness. Doyoung could not afford to be reckless.

You come running toward him with a gigantic smile on your face, the one that makes Doyoung naturally grin back. He loves seeing you this way and his chest burns with an aching pain at the reality that awaits him. 

“Hey! How’s packing been?” You greet him, exasperated from the light jog. 

“I managed to finish a bit ago. I realized that I should pack more of the sweaters I left behind. It’s not as warm out there as it is here.” Doyoung shoves his hands into his jean pockets, the wind picking up the ends of his shirt and blowing lightly. 

“That’s good.” It’s all you could say before mustering up the courage to speak the real reason why you’re here tonight. Your eyes drift to the waves crashing along the shore and the footprints left from earlier in the day getting washed away. Your throat nearly closes, but you knew it had to be said. 

“Doyoung, I actually came out to tell you something important.” 

He chokes up, afraid to know and unprepared for what you were going to say. Nodding, he looks at you with a blank expression. 

“I had such a fun summer with you that I found myself growing to have romantic feelings for you. Do you feel the same?” Your confession evokes a sense of excitement and joy, Doyoung could do cartwheels. Nonetheless, they soon become squashed by the impending truths of reality. As much as Doyoung wanted to confess and tell you how he felt the same, he chose not to. 

Instead, he chooses to find a way to reject you. Dragging it out would be more painful than ending things between the two of you now. He thought this had to be the best option for your happiness. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m going away tomorrow.” He can’t answer your question because then he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from revealing all the ways you make his heart race and palms sweaty. He can’t hold onto a hope for the two of you to exist, knowing that the distance and his dedication to his studies came first. He wasn’t ready. 

Your smile drops immediately, being replaced with a frown. “I know, but we can work things out. You’re not too far–”

“I can’t do the distance. I can’t sacrifice the time from my studies.” Doyoung can see your heart shatter with every word and he doesn’t know how to help. His own heart crushed in his chest and nothing, but sharp pain reveals itself. 

“You can’t or you won’t?” You’re biting back tears. You didn’t expect the confession to go like this. Not that you expected him to reciprocate, but you didn’t think he’d chew and spit out your feelings like this. All this time, all his gestures, all his smiles, were they really not meant for you?

He says the same excuses again, which only frustrates you further. It didn’t feel like he was being honest with you, but he refused to give another reason. “I thought that this summer was special to us.”

Doyoung doesn’t wish to upset you more, so he says his last words to you before running off. “Summer is not enough.” You’re whiplashed by his cruel response, left speechless as you watch his figure dash off and down the pier. 

You’re left alone and staring at his fading shadow. A hole in your chest from your heart being ripped out and trampled on the ground. As a tear runs down your cheek, you think to yourself how Kim Doyoung is a coward, but how you are a fool to think that this summer meant anything more than it was.  

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Doyoung sighs, that memory haunting him like a nightmare. “I was stupid. Not only was I a coward, but I was thoughtless. I thought that if I ended things there, you wouldn’t be hurt in the long run.”

“Did you always plan to hurt me?” 

Doyoung snaps his head over at you, a ghastly expression on his face at your question. “Absolutely not. I-” He searched for the right answer, “I knew that I wasn’t going to be a good boyfriend to you if things continued. I was so imperfect that at the point of my life I was in, I was not ready to be the person you deserved. I wanted to give you the moon and the stars, believe me, but I was a boy who couldn’t even afford a scoop of mango sorbet.” 

“Doyoung, the boy I loved was imperfect, but he managed to make sunflowers bloom in my chest and feel as if I wasas loved by the sun. I wanted nothing more than to be yours that summer.” Your hand lightly clasps onto his. 

He tightens the grip, “again, I’m so sorry I so selfishly and idiotically ruined things between us, for making you sad. I only wanted to be the reason behind your gorgeous smile. I wanted to reach out all this time, but I couldn’t get over the guilt that built up after all this time. Why would you want someone who hurt you to come back into your life?”

You lifted Doyoung’s chin, bringing his focus back on your face. The connection is electrifying, like an instant buzz that fills your system with a simple look. The way that Doyoung looks at you is like a mesmerized, starstruck fool.

“You hurt me and it took a long time for me to build that bridge and get over it. However, after all these years, you’re all I could think about. That summer is all that floods my mind when I’m alone, that summer of us.” Your gentle words remind him of a softness he had forged a long time ago. A tenderness in your touch, in your gaze, in your tone is enough to break down his walls.

“I’ve wondered about you everyday.” He feels himself so easily drawn to you, so willing to open his pages for you to read. “And everyday, I wished I could get another chance. Would you allow me that? Another chance to be with you?”

It’s like the person you were from that summer awakens inside of you, longing and yearning to be Kim Doyoung’s. This entire night had been full of pockets of nostalgia seeing him again. Remembering, feeling, forgiving. But that question really solidifies that that young kid still lives inside of you, still wanting to love their summer crush as much as they did.

“Yes, I’d give you that chance in a heartbeat.” 

Doyoung kisses you again. And again. And again. For every moment under the summer stars that he wished to do so. Your summer love has found its way to your present. 

[girlkisser13]

emily i’m sorry

"emily, forgive me, can we" "make it up as we go along?" "i'm twenty-seven and i don't know who i am" "but i know what i want"

pairings: emily prentiss x fem!reader

warnings/tags: angst with a bit of fluff at the end.

summary: you and emily find your way to each other.

returning to quantico was like stepping into a time capsule. the bau had always been a place of intensity, where minds were stretched to their limits and where you had once spent countless hours. but this time, walking through those familiar halls, you felt a different kind of pressure— the weight of seeing emily again after so many years apart.

the past had a way of creeping up on you, especially in a place like this, where every corner held memories. you had loved emily once, more than you thought possible. but in your pursuit of a career that demanded everything, you had made the impossible decision to walk away. it was mutual, or at least that’s what you both said at the time. there were no harsh words, no accusations— just two people who had to part ways for the sake of their futures.

yet standing here now, you couldn’t help but question that choice.

as you made your way into the bullpen, you were greeted by the team— a group of people you knew by reputation but had never worked with before. penelope garcia was the first to spot you, her eyes lighting up as she made her way over.

"you must be the new liaison!" she exclaimed, her voice as bright as her personality. "i’m penelope garcia, resident genius, and lover of all things tech."

you smiled, accepting the warm handshake. "y/n l/n, nice to meet you, garcia."

"please, call me penelope. we’re all friends here," she said with a wink before turning to the rest of the team. "everyone, meet our new liaison."

you exchanged handshakes and introductions with david rossi, spencer reid, aaron hotchner, and derek morgan. they were all friendly, professional, and welcoming. none of them knew your history with emily, and you weren’t sure if that made things easier or harder.

"prentiss is in her office," rossi mentioned, almost casually. "she’s probably buried in paperwork."

you nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral. "i’ll go introduce myself."

the walk to emily’s office felt longer than it should have, each step heavy with anticipation. you took a deep breath before knocking on the door, trying to steady your nerves.

"come in," came emily’s voice, slightly muffled by the door.

you pushed the door open and stepped inside, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes met hers. emily looked almost exactly as you remembered— poised, strong, with that keen, intelligent gaze that had always drawn you in. but when she saw you, her eyes widened in shock, and she froze, the file she was holding slipping from her fingers and landing on the desk.

"y/n?" her voice was soft, almost disbelieving.

"hey, emily," you said, your voice betraying a hint of the nervousness you felt. "it’s been a while."

she stared at you for a moment, as if trying to convince herself that you were really there. finally, she found her voice. "i didn’t know you were coming back."

"i’m the new liaison,” you explained, stepping further into the office. "i just met the team."

emily blinked, clearly trying to process this new information. "you’re taking jj’s position?"

"yeah," you confirmed. "it feels right. like coming home, in a way."

a long, tense silence stretched between you. the last time you had seen emily, you both had agreed to part ways. you needed to focus on your career, and she had understood. but standing here now, all those old feelings resurfaced, and you realized how much you had missed her.

"i didn’t think i’d see you again," emily finally said, her voice low and laced with emotion.

"neither did i," you admitted. "but life has a funny way of bringing you back to the things you thought you’d left behind."

emily studied you, her expression unreadable. "why did you come back?"

her question was simple, but it hit you like a ton of bricks. you had thought about this moment, about what you would say if you ever saw her again. now that it was here, the words felt heavy in your mouth.

"emily, i’m sorry," you began, your voice cracking slightly. "when we broke up, i thought i was doing the right thing. i thought i needed to focus on my career, and i convinced myself that it was for the best."

she listened, her eyes never leaving yours, but she didn’t say anything.

"i thought i was making the right choice," you continued, your voice filled with regret. "but after all this time, after everything i’ve done, i still don’t know who i am. the only thing i’m sure of is that i still love you. i never stopped."

emily looked down, her expression softening. "you left," she whispered, her voice carrying a weight of hurt. "you chose your career over us."

"i know," you replied, feeling a lump form in your throat. "and i'm sorry for that, more than you can imagine. i thought i was making the right choice, but i was wrong. i've spent all this time trying to figure out who i am, but the only thing i'm sure of is that i still love you."

her breath hitched slightly, and she finally looked up at you, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "you broke my heart, y/n," she said, her voice trembling.

"i know," you whispered, taking a cautious step closer. "and i’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you, if you’ll let me."

for a long moment, emily just looked at you, as if weighing your words. then, slowly, she stepped forward and pulled you into a tight embrace. the warmth of her arms around you, the familiar scent of her hair, it all came rushing back, and you held her close, never wanting to let go.

"i missed you," she murmured against your shoulder, her voice thick with emotion.

"i missed you too," you whispered back, relief flooding through you. "i’m not going anywhere this time, emily. i promise."

she pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. there was a hint of a smile on her lips, a glimmer of hope in her gaze.

"maybe we could… start over?" she suggested tentatively.

you smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in years. "i’d like that."

as you stood there, holding each other, you knew that this was where you were meant to be. not just in the bau, but with emily, in her arms, where you’d always belonged.

and this time, you weren’t going to let her go.

[shiny-kaibernyte]

Avahjdiaksvvxhsx this blog is so silly in a good way

As much as I love toothpaste, edgy onion deserves some love as well

Can I get hcs of Kieran x reader set after the end of Indigo Disk where Kieran and the reader's rekindled friendship slowly grows into romance over time? I just think the idea is cute

Your wish is my command!💜💜

Pokémon Headcannons | Kieran (Post-game Romance)

Pokémon Scarlett and Violet DLC Spoilers ahead!

Warnings: mild obsessive behaviour. Kieran being a sweet bean

SPOILER WARNING For The ending of The indigo disk

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

After the whole Ogerpon, Terapagos, situation was finally over, the guild Kieran felt was unfathomable. The people he had hurt, the things he had said to everyone he cared about were weighing on him more than they ever did before.

So when he had practically yelled at you to forgive him on the bridge to the academy. To see your smile once more, to know after everything he had done you’d forgiven him! His only friend had forgiven him after all of this. Not a chance was he letting this go, not a second time. You are his best friend and he’s making sure he doesn’t lose your trust or you again.

Getting your forgiveness was pretty easy, as for the others… that was more of a challenge. Carmine never really held a grudge, Kieran’s her brother she cares for him! Drayton forgave him quite quickly, though he still holds a grudge against him for what he’s done, and will remind him of this if he slips out of it again. 

It took weeks for Crispin and Lacey to forgive him, so much persuasion, apologies, gifts, everything under the sun so they would even remotely forgive him. So many times he wanted to give up, thinking he had failed them as he had himself. But with your constant motivation and joy, he continued trying to gain they’re trust again, for you.

His grades began shooting up as well. He began actually focusing more on the Pokémon world and the people around him instead of his obsession with getting stronger. Which caused Amarys to admit to him how proud she was of him. Be it stoically.

After some time he was even able to earn Ogerpon' s love and trust, becoming good friends with the adorable Pokémon. 

Kieran had even begun spending a lot more time with you, going on shiny hunts with you, catching Pokémon with you and just genuinely wanting to be around you! It reminded him of how he felt back on Kitagami, the joy he felt running around doing all those challenges with you. 

But it also brought back some feelings he had bottled away. Feelings he never thought would resurface, and yet, running around the Terrarium with you, running through the stories of your adventures in Paldea with him. He wanted nothing more than to just hold you.

Little did he know you felt the same.

It wasn’t until a few months after that he finally mustered up the courage. And by that I mean Carmine practically dragged him to you and demanded he tell you how he felt. Much to your confusion.

But he does confess telling you straight up how he felt, how much you make his heart ache when you're not around, how seeing you so focused on catching a Pokémon makes his face go all red and warm. How your focused battle face was so refreshing to him, your smile being the cutest thing in the world to him.

Granted he stumbled over every word, the old shy Kieran you knew before, showing his face one last time.

When you plant a kiss on his cheek, followed by a hug, he knew your feelings were mutual and he couldn’t help but smile a beaming smile, hugging you for the first time in so long. And he was never letting this moment go. And never again was he letting you slip from his grasp again.

[buckys-little-belle]

Henlo! If it's okay, could you make write a fic about Bucky comforting his little during a thunderstorm? A storm was near my house a few days ago and the thunder scared me so bad-- The power didn't go out, but storms usually happen a lot where I live-- thanks <3

Rainy Days

Bucky Barnes x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns used/No Pronouns used)

Warnings - Reader is scared of storms, reader eats snacks, talks of loud noises, talks of lightning/flashing lights, descriptions of a thunderstorm, ready is sad and scared, Bucky is sweet and thoughtful!

Notes - I made this headcannons, I hope that's okay! Honestly I've been going through my inbox and drafts and trying to clear them out, but writing full fics is something I have to be in the right mood for. But headcannons? I've been feeling headcannons lately, so do send some headcannon requests in if anyone has some! And please expect very old asks to suddenly resurface in the shape of fics/headcannons written literally years later <3

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW!

. ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ .

You've always been scared of thunderstorms. Rain is nice from time to time, but when the loud booms of thunder begin and lightning strikes, you suddenly begin to feel scared.

It's not rational, you know the thunder can't get you and that if you're inside you're safe from lightning. Yet when the storm begins to get louder and the rain begins to pelt harder, you find yourself curled up wherever you are, stuffie held safely to your chest.

Bucky could tell you'd get antsy whenever rain drops would begin racing on the windows, you'd stare outside seemingly waiting for something to happen.

After the first thunderstorm you two witnessed together Bucky knew he needed to be prepared for the next one. He hated seeing you cry, and how scared you got. He felt helpless and vowed to make sure that didn't happen again.

So now he has a small bin in his closet labeled "Rainy days". Inside are a pair of headphones he bought that block out any noises. It's made chatting between the two of you hard on those rainy days, you yelling because you can't tell just how loud you are, and him doing his best to charades his words. But because it rains so often, you two have had time to practice, and communication comes much easier.

He bought you little stickers to put on the headphones, so that instead of just plain boring black headphones, you have ones decorated by your favourite cartoon characters and fun little stickers of plants and dinosaurs.

He also has special activities for the two of you to do on those days. He wanted something different than the toys you have all the other days. This way you stop feeling dread thinking about thunderstorms, now that feeling is over taken with a subtle excitement for the special glitter crayons in the box, and the really cute stuffed animal named "Rainy" that you get to snuggle with.

Bucky always buys those PDF files on etsy that are colouring pages. For $2 he gets 6-10 fun pages, and he'll print them out for you on his fancy work printer. He finds it easier than buying colouring books because there's no risk of ripping your colouring when you evidently want to rip the page out and put it on the fridge. Plus he finds it over all cheaper, and there are no more tears when you don't like the way you coloured something, sad that you can't do that pretty picture anymore, he just prints out a second one.

Bucky is also a fan of physical media. He has both a DVD and a VCR player. So he has two movies stashed in the box that you really like for those rainy days, and those rainy days only. He doesn't know how, but you've been able to connect your headphones to the Tv, so you can't hear the thunder when you're watching them.

Also snuggles, rainy days mean as many snuggles as you want. Doesn't matter if he's on a work call, doing the laundry, or in the middle of making dinner. If you come up and ask for a hug you end up getting 20 minutes of snuggles and soothing back rubs.

You don't venture outside when it's a thunderstorm, but Bucky has been warming you up to "liking" rainy days by showing you how fun puddles can be.

He buys you a cute raincoat and matching boots, and as long as there's no thunder or lightning, he'll take you outside and splash in the puddles for an hour.

Instead of being terrified of thunderstorms, and hating the days they happen, you've slowly been able to accept that they'll happen sometimes, and you've grown to know your safe, very safe because Bucky is always at your side on those days. Ready to comfort you, ready to play whatever game you want, and ready to jump in puddles when possible.

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x F! reader

Description: When Dean gets a call from an "old friend" asking for help, old feelings resurface leaving for messy feelings and a complicated hunt.

Warnings: canon violence, feelings of unrequited love, angst, loving someone being difficult, corpses, crime scenes, cursing, mentions of racism, racist ghost truck?

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 , @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool

Word Count: 9,251

Route 666

(Master list, Prev Ch, Next Chapter)

I lean against the expanse of the Impala, letting the bright sun shine over me. It was one of those cold but not cold days, where as long as the sun was hitting you it was perfectly right. Sam is next to me looking over the large map he has laid out on the hood of the car, trying to look for a way around a closed-off road.

I’m glad he knew what he was doing ‘cause my map and geography skills only went so far before I was lost.

Meanwhile, Dean was off to the side, his phone pressed to his ear his brows furrowed whoever he was talking to was clearly telling him something important and maybe shocking.

“Ok. I think I found a way we can bypass that construction just East of here,” Sam informs gaining my attention, “We might even make Pennsylvania faster than we thought.” I nod, taking advantage of his hunched-over figure to ruffle his hair, “Nice work, map man.” He snorts, rolling his eyes as he pushes my arm away playfully.

“Yeah. ‘Problem is, we’re not going to Pennsylvania” Dean points out, closing his phone and looking at it thoughtfully. I look at him confused, “We aren’t…?” He nods, wetting his lips, “I just got a call from an, uh, old friend. Her father was killed last night, think it might be our kind of thing.”

“What?” Sam vocalizes. “Yeah. Believe me, she never woulda called, never, if she didn’t need us” Dean clarifies. Without giving us any more information or even a chance to contemplate or counter his statement he gets in the car, “Come on, are you coming or not?”

The Impala cruises down the expanse of the road, a long beautifully green field on one side and a lake on the other. “By old friend you mean…?” Sam asks the question we were both undeniably thinking. “A friend that’s not new” Dean grumbles.

“Oh! Thanks, genius” I remark, he was being weird and that alone was not helping his case. “‘Said her name’s Cassie huh?” Sam said, trying a different angle, “You never mentioned her…”

“Didn’t I?” Dean remarks. He wasn't very good at hiding this one, the car falling silent in the wake of his stupid answer. He finally huffs, “Yeah, we went out.”

“You mean you dated somebody?” Sam asks with a snort, “For more than one night?”

“Oh come on Sammy we're all adults here, we’ve all dated before” I chime in with a smirk. He turns around in his seat, facing me with an expectant look, “Are we talking about the same person here? Dean doesn't date.” Sam exclaims and I push down the ache of that implication, “And aren’t you the least bit curious.”

“Oh no, I am,” I nod enthusiastically, laughing lightly, “I want all the details. I was just tryna be nice.”

He snickers, turning back to his brother, “You heard her, we want all the details.”

I swear Dean’s eye practically twitches, “Am I speaking a language you’re not getting here? Dad and I were working a job in Ohio, she was finishing up college. We went out for a coupla weeks.” 

I want to ask how long ago this was, was it months before his dad disappeared or a year or more ago, but I hold back on my questioning. “And…?” Sam pushes. Dean shrugs slightly.

“Look, it’s terrible about her dad, but it kinda sounds like a standard car accident. I’m not seeing how it fits with what we do,” Sam reasons, “Which by the way, how does she know what we do?”

Dean doesn't answer again, silently shifting in his seat uncomfortably. The realization hits me like a brick, “Oh. My. God,” I lean forward in my seat almost getting choked out by my seatbelt, “You told her! You broke the number one hunting rule! You know, not telling anyone, ever!”

“More than that!” Sam adds, “It’s our big family rule. Number one. We do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half, I did nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a coupla times and you tell her everything?!” I try not to think about my own relationships both romantic and not that rarely ever made it past a couple of months before it ended, not only having to lie about being a hunter but a witch too. Dean stays silent, staring straight ahead, “Dean!” Sam yells.

“Yeah. Looks like,” he finally acknowledges. He continues to stare ahead, pressing his foot down harder on the gas pedal. Sam shakes his head, giving his brother his classic bitchface.

“Oh. He had it bad” I laugh leaning back in my seat, ignoring the sinking and stabbing feeling in my heart. I figured I’d have to keep doing so on this hunt.

The office was dark, the bright sunlight not able to stretch upon the large room not even with the help of glass doors. The place could really open a couple of blinds, let the light shine in.

An old white man with an interesting-looking tie, one of those Western ones with the jewel and black tether, talks to two people a man and a woman their backs towards us. And the way Dean pauses, staring at the woman it isn't hard to deduce she's Cassie. She and the older black gentlemen next to her seem to be having some sort of dispute with the old white guy.

Then suddenly both of the men walk away, clearly frustrated, leaving Cassie to stand there herself. She turns around swiftly, and almost like a perfectly curated romance movie she nearly hits Dean only inches separating the two. I didn't even realize he had moved forward in the time we've been standing here. 

Just looking at her I could tell why Dean fell for her, she's beautiful more than that. She could be a model with her beautiful long dark curls framing her face, full lips colored red, and big brown eyes. She must have stepped out of a magazine, everything about her screamed perfect down to her perfectly shaped eyebrows and perfect nose. “Dean,” she says, her voice smooth despite the look of slight apprehension.

He nods and grins, “Hey Cassie.” And they just stare at each other. He's looking at her in a way I’ve never seen him look at anyone before even despite the tension that hung in the air, unspoken words from however long ago.

His eyes seem to glimmer, you’d have to be a fool not to see he still has feelings for her, that they never went away in the first place. And that it’s more than just any feelings, he loves her and that is a hard pill to swallow.

He clears his throat, breaking the trance they were both in, “This is my brother Sam. And my friend Y/N.” She smiles at each of us before her gaze reverts to Dean, not that I could blame her in the slightest.

“Sorry ‘bout your dad,” he says.

“Yeah. Me too,” she answers.

Her family home was beautiful and extraordinarily large, it was a bit disturbing. Though maybe that was because it reminded me of my home before moving to Kansas, or at least what I remember of it. We sat in the sitting room on vintage settees, another reminder of that home–my mother would quite like the look of this cozy room. 

Cassie finally comes back adorning a tray of tea cups and a teapot along with the little bowl of sugar and a small pouring cup of milk, could she get any more perfect and wonderful? “My mothers in pretty bad shape. I’ve been staying with her. I wish she wouldn’t go off by herself. She’s been so nervous and frightened. She was worried about Dad,” she explains.

“Why?” Dean asks as she takes a seat across from us. He was watching her every move as if dedicating it to memory, I wonder if he’s thinking ‘She moves in the same manner she used to’ or maybe that it changed. Suddenly I was not so okay with sitting between the boys even though that's almost how we always sat when talking to someone on a hunt, as it made it harder for them to fight and made them slightly more comfortable with squishing into sofas with their large frames. But now, being in the middle I could easily watch how he looked at her, studied her.

She skillfully pours tea into each cup, “He was scared. He was seeing things.”

“Like what?” He asked.

“He swore he saw an awful-looking black truck following him,” she responds carefully.

“A truck, did he see a driver?” I ask, diligently accepting the beautiful teacup she handed me. I take a careful sip of the black tea, of course she would know and pick the perfect tea for guests. Does she have any flaws?

“He didn’t talk about a driver,” she answers, “Just the truck. He said it would appear and disappear. And, in the accident, Dad’s car was dented, like it had been slammed into by something big.”

Sam accepts his cup of tea, “Thanks. Now you’re sure this dent wasn’t there before?” And as predictable as Dean was he looked at his cup weirdly before depositing it back on the tray, that man was not a tea person he’d take a coffee or a beer any day. I think the only reason he drank the tea I gave him when he was sick was because he knew how desperate Sammy and I were. 

“He sold cars. Always drove a new one. There wasn’t a scratch on that thing,” she explains, “It had rained hard that night. There was mud everywhere. There was a distinct set of muddy tracks leading from Dad’s car…leading right to the edge, where he went over.” She swallows harshly, bowing her head, “One set of tracks. His.” 

Dean’s face softens, eyes filling with sympathy, “The first was a friend of your father's?” She nods, “Best friend. Clayton Soames. They owned the car dealership together. Same thing. Dent. No tracks. And the cops said exactly what they said about Dad. He ‘lost control of his car.’”

I force my brain to rid itself of any thoughts of Dean and Cassie's relationship. This was like any other hunt, something weird is going on and we are here to help, nothing more.

It was weird, cars don't just drive off the road like that and then have newly made dents that match another vehicle. “Is there any reason you can think of as to why your father and his partner might've been targets? Competition?” I ask. She shakes her head, radiating certainty, “No.”

“And you think this vanishing truck ran them off the road?” Sam points out.

“When you say it aloud like that…,” she sighs, “listen, I’m a little skeptical about this…ghost stuff…or whatever it is you guys are into.”

Dean huffs, “Skeptical. If I remember, I think you said I was nuts.” 

“That was then,” she bites back. Then they fall back into that thing where they just stare at each other, “I just know that I can’t explain what happened up there. So I called you,” she adds, directing her words only to him. I clear my throat, weary of the bubble they seem to have put around themselves, “You were right in calling” I reasoned softly, “It is very strange and on the off chance it isn’t anything supernatural then it was certainly a cover-up.”

Her perfect eyebrows furrow but before she can respond the sound of the front door opening catches all of our attention, a middle-aged white woman enters through and I assume it's her mother. She shared her mother's eye shape and her nose, but the rest of her she must have gotten from her father.

As if we had gotten caught we all rise from the sofa. Cassie goes over to her mother, taking her arm, “Mom. Where have you been I was so…” her mother cuts her off looking at us, “I had no idea you'd invited friends over.”

“Mom, this Dean, a…friend of mine from…college. ‘His brother Sam and friend Y/N.”

“Well, I won’t interrupt you” her mother smiles nervously.

“Mrs Robinson,” Dean says suddenly, “We’re sorry for your loss. We’d like to talk to you for a minute if you don’t mind.” And as if offended she recoils, “I’m really not up for that right now.”

The morning sun is dimmer today, perfect for the scene we were walking upon. The man Cassie was standing with yesterday, Jimmy, was the newest victim. He died in the same way as the others sometime late last night. Cassie was again arguing with the old white man from yesterday. As we approached I could hear his condescending voice, “Close the man road. The only road in and out of town? Accidents do happen Cassie, and that’s what they are. Accidents.” 

We stand beside her, Dean speaking up immediately, “Did the cops check for additional denting on Jimmy’s car, see if it was pushed?” 

Without missing a beat and without looking away from Cassie the man asks, “Who’s this?”

“Dean and Sam Winchester, Y/N L/N. Family friends. This is Mayor Harold Todd” She replies smoothly. This man went from just any old white guy to a powerful old white guy, even worse. And he had two first names, you never trust someone with two first names. Reluctantly Mayor Old Guy answers Dean’s initial question, “There’s one set of tire tracks. One. ‘Doesn’t point to foul play.”

Cassie scuffs, “Mayor, the police, and town officials take their cues from you. If you’re indifferent about…” 

He cuts her off, “Indifferent!”

“Would you close the road if the victims were white?” she counters.

Oh. Could she get any more iconic?!

“You suggesting I’m racist Cassie?” He spits, “I’m the last person you should talk to like that.” 

“And why is that?” She counters, stepping closer to him.

“Why don’t you ask your mother” he answers before walking away. My jaw drops, what the hell is going on in this town?

I huff, blowing a piece of hair out of my face. I really didn’t want to get dressed, for as much as I’ve been trying to ignore the whole Dean and Cassie situation I was feeling horrible.

I sit on the soft motel bed in nothing but my underwear and a nice white button-down, haven given up on dressing. I feel stupid. Incredibly stupid.

Maybe Sam’s words had gotten to me, maybe I had gotten my hopes up without even realizing it.

He loves someone else, and he’s had for a while. I always thought when you love someone those feelings don’t ever truly go away, there's always a part of you with them. They wind up crossing your mind and you wonder where things went wrong. But I guess I never considered this would also apply to Dean, which is cruel to believe within itself. Which is funny too, all these years I’ve spent loving him…But Sam was right he didn’t date so I guess I assumed he never fell for anyone during his countless one-night stands.

I know death is cruel but maybe love is tied with it. Because I feel like someone took my heart and ran with it, leaving me with this void in my chest and an ache so intense that it throbs in its place. It was stupid to think I had a chance to begin with. I knew not to believe I had one in the first place, but somewhere along the line I had completely forgotten about any of that. So much for listening to my past self, if I had maybe I wouldn't be feeling so damn bad.

But I couldn't be mad. Cassie was wonderful in every possible way and you don't need to know her for long to realize that. They seemed perfect for each other really. She was feisty and had no issue putting someone in their place, which I quite admired, and I know Dean could use that every now and then. If she was a jerk I’m sure I’d have no issue disliking her, but she wasn’t! She was impossible to dislike, and it would be horrible of me to hate her just because she harbors feelings for someone that I love or the fact that he loves her back. That wasn't her fault, it was neither of their faults.

Loving someone has to be the hardest thing one could do.

I get up from the bed and put on my skirt. I couldn't sit here forever, the boys would come knocking and I wouldn't have a good excuse as to why I’m in a mood. Quickly I check myself in the mirror, at least I didn’t cry which means I don't gotta redo my makeup, even if it was minimal to begin with.

How do you stop loving someone? I could use that answer.

I knew I loved him for a long time, too long. But I suppose I didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten, how much it had flourished and I had never expected that to be possible. I love him.

I love him and it hurts so much.

How many times did I have the opportunity to tell him? It had to be in the hundreds. Maybe it was better that I didn’t, he loves someone else and I should be happy for them. I am happy for him. He deserves to be loved and be able to love. Yes, I am happy.

I approach the two older men having lunch, focusing on the wet ground and the wholesomeness that is them eating on a pier. “Hi, sorry. Are you Ron Stubbins?” I ask, taking the lead. I needed to throw myself into the work, I needed the distraction. The older man nods looking at us confused, his black cap bobbing with his head. “You were friends with Jimmy Anderson?” Dean follows up.

“Who are you?” Ron responds with, sitting up straighter. He was sizing us up, skeptical of us, which he had every right to be. “We’re Mr. Anderson’s insurance company. We’re just here to dot ‘I’s’ and cross ‘T’s’,” Dean explains, flashing his badge.

“And they needed to send three of you?” He counters. I giggle, tilting my head slightly, “Would you prefer me leaving?” I ask sweetly. And as predictable as men can be he drags his eyes across my body before shaking his head, “No. No. That won’t be necessary.” I ignore the dirty feeling that washes over me and sticks to my bones like a new layer of skin, it was necessary to do that because now he won’t bother questioning us anymore on that topic. 

“We were just wondering, had the deceased mentioned any unusual recent experiences?” Sam questions, getting back on topic. Reluctantly Ron looks away from me to look at the man who questioned him, “What do you mean, unusual?”

“Well visions, hallucinations” He elaborates. 

“We’re working with local psychologists to broaden our questioning and research,” I explain, trying to clear the confusion from his face, “It’s all very standard.”

“What company did you say you were with?” Ron counters. Maybe he was more on guard than I thought. “All National Mutual” Dean answers smoothly, “Tell me, did he ever mention seeing a truck? A big black truck?”

“What the hell ‘you talking about?” Ron exclaims, “‘You even speaking English?”

Wow, what a lovely guy.

“Son this truck, a big scary monster-looking thing?” Ron's friend suddenly says.

“Yeah actually, I think so” Dean answers. The man hums to himself in thought, please let this interaction be useful. “You’ve heard of something like that?” I ask the man. “I have,” he nods, not bothering to elaborate.

“You have. Where?” Sam pushes.

“Not where,” he finally answers, “When. Back in the ‘60s, there was a string of deaths. Black men. Story goes, they disappeared in a big, nasty, black truck.”

“They ever catch the guy?” I ask. He shrugs, “Never found him. Hell, not even sure they really looked. See there was a time, ‘this town wasn’t too friendly to all its citizens.”

“Thank you” Sam nods.

We walk away, heading back to the Impala. “Well, it seems like history is repeating itself,” I began, “From the lack of investigation and racism down to the–”

“Truck,” Dean says, finishing my sentence. “Keeps coming up doesn’t it?” Sam adds.

“You know, I was thinking. You heard of the Flying Dutchman?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, a ghost ship, infused with the Captian’s evil spirit. It was basically part of him” Sam answers, explaining the lore. Dean nods, “So what if we’re dealing with the same thing? You know, a phantom truck, an extension of some bastard’s ghost, re-enacting past crimes.”

“The victims have been black men” Sam continues the theory. I half-shrug, “I don't know. The town has to have more than a handful of black people, but it only seems to be going after specific people. It’s practically targeting those connected to Cassie and her family. I’m sure there’s some deeper link there.”

“That’s why I think it’s more than that,” Dean says.

“All right. Well, you work that angle, go talk to her,” Sam tells his brother specifically, clearly playing matchmaker. “Yeah, I will,” Dean agrees.

“Oh, and you might also wanna mention that other thing” Sam noted, a playful smile on his lips. Always the meddler. “What other thing?” Dean asks, either genuinely lost or faking it. “The serious, unfinished business?” Sam elaborates. I huff a laugh, “Yeah, seriously Dean it's so painfully obvious. Just talk to the girl.” It pained me to even suggest that, to motivate him in such a way but I want him to be happy, and if that means being with her then so be it.

Dean stops just as we reach the car, going obstinately silent. Sam huffs a laugh this time, “Dean, what is going on between you two?”

“All right, so maybe we were a little more involved than I said,” he finally admits. I give him a pointed look, “Yeah…that was obvious.” 

He huffs, “A lot more. Maybe. And I told her our secret, about what we do. And I shouldn’t have.”

“Ah look man, everybody’s gotta open up to someone sometime,” Sam reasons, being a little too understanding compared to how we were only yesterday. “Yeah I don’t,” Dean argues, “It was stupid to get that close. I mean, look how it ended.”

I smile at him softly, hoping any sadness is concealed far behind my eyes, and I realize Sam is giving him the same look except he’s nearly beaming. “Would you both stop!” he shouts. But we don't because this is a side of Dean we’ve never seen before, and it is beautiful even if it's heartbreaking for me. “Someone blink or something!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up.

“You loved her,” I say softly, the gape in my chest deepening at the verbal declaration. Saying it aloud was so much worse. “Oh God,” he groans, turning to the Impala. “You still do!” I call after him.

“You were in love with her, but you dumped her,” Sam states, connecting the pieces. Dean goes silent, staring at the ground, then carefully glances at his brother before reverting his eyes. “Oh wow. She dumped you.”

I have to stop myself from taking in a sharp breath, there was a lot to this he wasn’t telling us. But why would she break up with him if she still has feelings?

“Get in the car” Dean demands, done being “emotional” and open, “Get in the car!”

Sam hands me my hot chocolate, but not even the sweet treat or the soft snow falling just outside can lift my mood. It makes me feel a little better but it does not fix my heart. Dean didn’t come back last night and I know it’s because he spent the night at Cassie’s. I’m happy they worked things out and hopefully had a wonderful night but again it does not fix my heart.

I held the cup tighter, welcoming the immense warmth it brought to my frozen hands as we stepped out of the small coffee shop. The air was crisp yet gentle as the light fluffy snowflakes descended onto us, the cold flakes collecting in my hair. A small smile graced my face, maybe it was making me feel better. I like the cold, preferred it even, I was cozy in my thick turtle neck and my favorite fleeced-lined jacket. 

Sam and I walk in comfortable silence side by side, sipping from our cups and basking in the scenery of the unexpected snow. It was early May in Missouri, it really shouldn’t be snowing but I suppose if it could snow here a little in April then early May couldn't be that weird. Plus it was a light snow that likely wouldn't even stick. But the calming scenery is cut in half by an ambulance that speeds past us, sirens blaring. We share a questioning look but ultimately ignore it until two cop cars rush past us heading the same way. That we can’t ignore. With another shared look, we follow after the sirens.

I look out at the macabre scene, the yellow caution tape not having stopped me from investigating thanks to the use of a fake ID. The body had been bagged after countless photos were taken, but the blood of Mayor Todd still stains the streets. It was a gruesome scene, arguably worse than the others in this case his organs squished out like roadkill and, truthfully, that’s what he had become. 

“L/N” Sam calls out from just a few feet behind me. I turned around swiftly, the snow whirling around me, Dean stood next to his brother. He came. 

I walk over to the two boys, watching Dean’s clear expression of shock masked by annoyance, “‘You gonna ask me a bunch of questions too?” he asks. I look at him confused, “...no” I drag out slowly. His face seems to relax slightly, something unrecognizable passing in his eyes, “Good,” he nods. 

“I already know you made up–made out” I add, his face drops, “Anyways, crime scene,” I point behind me.

“Every bone crushed. Internal organs turned to pudding,” Sam explains the case, catching his brother up, “The cops are all stumped, it’s like something ran him over.” The wind picks up again, swirling the snow in its own private storm, the cold will help with the case as it preserves the body longer. “Something like a truck?” Dean asks, gaining his footing in the case.

“Yeah, except of course there’s no tracks” I answer. He nods, rubbing a hand down his jaw and I have to force my eyes away from the movement, “What was the Mayor doing here anyway?”

“He owned the property. Bought it a few weeks ago” Sam says referring to the building site.

“But he’s white, doesn’t fit the pattern,” Dean points out. Sam nods, “Killings didn’t happen up on the road. That doesn’t fit either.”

I shove my hands into my pocket, taking a quick look back at the crime scene before turning back to the boys, “Then it seems like this case is one of revenge.”

I shuffle through the papers in front of me, glad that I was sent to do research at the town's main library rather than be at the newspaper office with the boys and Cassie. She was probably looking at him all sweetly and being a kind person, and I did not wish to see the loving way they looked at each other. And if avoiding that meant having my nose in dusty boxes of court records then that was okay.

I pull out my phone calling Sam directly instead of Dean, the phone rings a couple of times before he picks up, “Hi” I greet, “I got some info.”

The line goes quiet for a second before I hear his voice, “Alright you're on speaker.”

“Ok, so,” I start, balancing my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I look over the papers, “I have courthouse records here, and according to them Mr and Mrs Mayor bought an abandoned property. The previous owner was the Dorian family who owned it for, like, 150 years.”

“Dorian?” Dean repeats back. “Yes.”

His voice grows quieter but still in range enough for me to hear, “Didn’t you say the Dorian family used to own this paper?” he asks someone else in the room. “Along with everything else around here. Real pillars of the town,” Cassie answers. “Right, right” Dean responds followed by the clicking of keys.

“You got something there?” I ask, readjusting my phone. 

“Think so” Sam mumbles, seemingly focused on whatever was happening over at the office.

“This Cyrus Dorian. He vanished in April of ‘63. The case was investigated but never solved. It was right around the time the string of murders was going on back then,” Dean informs, adding more information to what that man yesterday had told us.

“Well to add to that information, the Dorian place seemed to be in really bad shape when the Mayber bought it,” I add, “He bulldozed the place.”

“Mayor Todd knocked down the Dorian place?” Dean asks, presumably, Cassie. “It was a big deal” she answers, “One of the oldest houses left. He made the front page.” I huff a breath, everything connecting yet leaving so many questions at the same time. “You got a date, Y/N?” Dean calls back.

“Um,” I hum shuffling the papers around and reading over the words quickly, “‘3rd of last month.” The line goes quiet again the only sound ringing back being the sharp noise of fingers on a keyboard, “Mayor Todd bulldozed the Dorian family home on the 3rd,” Dean finally responds, “The first killing was the next day.”

Pouring the boiled water into the mug I take a quick look back, Dean kneels in front of the shaken-up Cassie rubbing her knee softly and looking at her with pure determination and adoration. I swallow roughly looking back at the mugs in front of me, nearly overspilling and burning myself. 

This was not the time to grieve a love that never happened. Cassie called Dean afraid, having seen the black truck. We were here to help, I was making a soothing herbal tea for her and her mother to calm the nerves. 

Finishing with the mugs I carefully carry them into the sitting room. Sam takes one from me, gently handing it to her mother. I hand the mug to Cassie, her shaky hands accepting and rattling the cup, Dean immediately moves to sit at her side but it does not stop his protectiveness if anything it amplifies it; he practically radiates it. “Maybe you should throw a couple of shots in here,” she says, half joking.

I huff a laugh, “Well while the effects of alcohol do have the capabilities of easing the central nervous system, when the effects wear off your body will be jolted back from its depressive state which would really only make you feel worse, more anxious as well as stressed.”

She gives me a half, almost awkward, smile before taking a sip from her mug. Did I say too much? Why didn’t someone stop me? Someone should’ve just cut me off, especially if I wasn’t helping.

“You didn’t see who was driving the truck,” Sam says suddenly, pulling the awkwardness out of the air. “It seemed to be no one. Everything was moving so fast. And then it was just gone,” she explains, “Why didn’t it kill us?”

“Whoever was controlling the truck wants you afraid first,” Dean answers. This would explain why at least one of the victims had seen it and truthfully thought they were going mad. “Mrs Robinson,” Sam began, “Cassie said that your husband saw the truck before he died.” Mrs Robinson doesn't answer, seemingly lost in her mind as she shakes. “Mom?” Cassie says carefully, worry laced in her voice.

The older Robinson shakes her head nervously, “Oh. Martin was under a lot of stress. You can’t be sure about what he was seeing.”

“Well after tonight I think we can be reasonably sure he was seeing a truck. What happened tonight, you and Cassie are marked. Ok?” Dean snaps, “Your daughter could die. So if you know something now would be a really good time to tell us about it.”

“Dean…” Cassie warns. But her mother's face contorts in emotion, something in her breaking, “Yes. Yes, he said he saw a truck.”

“Did he know who it belonged to?” Sam asks, taking a seat across from the woman. “He thought he did,” she answers cryptically. “Who was that?” Dean pushes. Her eyes get watery and she sinks into herself, “Cyrus. A man named Cyrus.”

My gaze flickers to the boys, we are all thinking the same thing, I look back at her, “By any chance was it Cyrus Dorian?” I ask carefully. Dean pulls out a newspaper from inside his coat, handing it to the woman. She doesn't shake her head or nod only replying with, “Cyrus Dorian died more than 40 years ago.”

“How do you know he died, Mrs Robinson?” Dean asks softly, “The papers said he went missing. How do you know he died?” 

She hesitates, her mouth agape like a fish out of water or in reality that of a person who got caught, “We were all very young,” she says, “I dated Cyrus a while, I was also seeing Martin…in secret of course. Interracial couples didn’t go over too well back then. When I broke it off with Cyrus and when he found out about Martin, I don’t know, he, changed. His hatred. His hatred was frightening.”

“The murder,” Sam voices.

Her voice wobbles, “They were rumors. People of color disappearing into some kind of truck. Nothing ‘ever done,” she swallows shifting in her seat, “Martin and a…Martin and I, we were gonna be, uh, married in that little church near here, but last minute we decided to elope as we didn’t want the attention.” She pushes her short hair out of her face, stressed. “And what became of Cyrus?” I ask.

Endless tears fall down her cheeks, “The day we set for the wedding, was the day someone set fire to the church. There was a children’s choir practicing in there. They all died.” I suppress the gasp that wishes to leave my lips, the room seems to dim with the information. What was meant to be a beautiful day was soiled by the blood of innocents.

“Did the attacks stop after that?” Sam asks softly, careful of her fragile mindset.

A sob escapes from her chest, “No! There was one more. One night that truck came for Martin. Cyrus beat him terribly. But Martin, you see, Martin got loose. And he started hitting Cyrus and he just kept hitting him and hitting him.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops?” Dean pushes. She continues to cry, “This was forty years ago. He called on his friends, Clayton Soames and Jimmy Anderson, and they put Cyrus’ body into the truck and they rolled it into the swamp at the end of his land and all three of them kept that secret all of these years.” 

“And now all three are gone,” Sam acknowledges. This all confirms the theory of a vengeful spirit. “And so is Mayor Todd,” Dean adds, “Now he said that you of all people would know he is not a racist. Why would he say that?”

“He was a good man,” Mrs Robinson answers, “He was a young deputy back then investigating Cyrus’ disappearance. Once he figured out what Martin and the others had done he…he did nothing, because he also knew what Cyrus had done.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cassie asks, her voice hard yet full of emotion. I couldn't imagine what was going on in her head, to find out something like this–“I thought I was protecting them. And now there’s no one left to protect,” her mother reasons.

“Yes, there is” Dean counters, fiercely. His green eyes harden with determination as he looks at Cassie.

I sit on the cold hood of the Impala, gently kicking my legs back and forth watching Dean pace in front of me. Sam leans against the car next to me, his arms crossed as he too watches his brother, “Ah, my life was so simple. Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms…”

I look at him with an amused smile, “I have no idea what that last part is but it sounds fun!” That stops Dean in his tracks for just a half of a second, he points at us, “No it doesn’t. I saved him from a boring existence.”

“Yeah, occasionally I miss boring” Sam reasons. I nod enthusiastically, “Honestly, we have not had a normal day in like months. Kinda miss it.”

Dean brushes our light complaining off, “So this killer truck–”

“I miss conversations that didn’t start with ‘this killer truck’” Sam quips with a dramatic sigh. I failed to hold back my laughter, Dean laughs lightly and for a brief moment, things feel how they used to, “Well this Cyrus guy. Evil on a level that infected even his truck. When he died, the swamp became his tomb, and his spirit was dormant for 40 years.”

“So what woke it up?” Sam asks.

“The construction on his house. Or the destruction,” Dean points out. 

“Right. Demolition or remodeling can awaken spirits, make them restless” Sam recalls. His brother hums a ‘yes’, nodding.

“Like that theater in Illinois, ya know?” Sam references, and I in fact had no idea what he was talking about. “And the guy that tore down the family homestead, Harold Todd, is the same guy that kept Cyrus’ murder quiet and unsolved,” Dean adds, bringing it back to the case at hand.

“So now his spirit is awakened and out for blood,” Sam acknowledges. 

“Yeah, I guess. Who knows what ghosts are thinking anyway” Dean shrugs. 

“Wait, does this mean we have to go swimming in that swamp?” I ask. I mean if we had to salt and burn the bones then we would need said bones which are in a swamp, how nice. Dean smiles at me, I know that look. “No” I warn, pointing at him like an animal that did something wrong. “You said it” he rationalizes. 

“Noooo” I whine a pout on my lips, “Do I have to do it alone?”

His wicked smile deepens, “‘Course not, Sammy’s gonna be with you.”

Sam’s shoulders drop, “Man,” he sighs. 

Suddenly a familiar figure approaches, her hands tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. Dean stands up straighter, “Hey.” She smiles sadly, “Hey. She’s asleep. Now what?”

“Well, you should stay put, look after her…and we’ll be back. Don’t leave the house,” Dean explains, looking at her in that way that hurts my heart. But she smiles, any worry melting off her face, “Don’t go getting all authoritative on me. I hate it.”

Dean glances back at us, Sam looks down grinning acting as if neither of us could hear the conversation. He turns back to Cassie mumbling something I can't quite make out but whatever it was must have been good because he slowly leans in to kiss her. I drop my head and gaze at the very interesting ground, trying my best to ignore the sound of their intensifying making out. A pang of jealousy, longing, and pain shoots through my chest. If the ground wanted to just open up and consume me now I wouldn’t complain, I’d even help it and just throw myself in it wouldn’t have to work very hard. Sam clears his throat, I look up but Dean just holds out a finger to wait as he brings Cassie even closer.

I drop my eyes again. 

Loving someone never hurt so bad. Loving him never hurt so bad. 

Was it wrong to love him? Was this always going to be my fate? To see him evermore with other girls, loving them more than he could ever love me. 

“You two comin’ or what?” Dean asks. I look up once more and this time his lips aren’t on Cassie.

I tug on the chain again, making sure it's secure, my hands getting wet in the process. I wipe my icky hands off on my jeans as I back away, “Alright he’s good,” I call out to Sam who stands feet away from me, closer to the butt of the pickup Dean was driving. He gives a thumbs up to his brother who begins to move the car forward, the pickup moving slowly in the weight of the heavy truck and water pressure.

We had already gotten it up a lot, but it had gotten stuck on the side of the swamp so we had to readjust its hold to get it the rest of the way up. 

The years in the water had diminished it. The old black truck was now more like a rust bucket, remains of the swamp water spilling out from the seams. “All right. A little more…little more,” Sam leads, “All right, stop.” 

The engine shuts off and Dean heads to the Impala, he pulls it open rummaging through the various weapons. “Now I know what she sees in you” Sam declares with a snap of his finger, meaning he finally understood what that look in her eyes meant. “What?” Dean asks.

“Come on man, you can admit it. You’re still in love with her” Sam clarifies. I nod even though the implications hurt, “Plus it’s not like no one else knows. So the only person you’re hiding from is yourself.”

Dean looks up from the trunk, “Uhh, can we focus please.”

I purse my lips, “Yeah…focusing has never really been our strong suit…” A container of salt is pressed into my chest, “Hold that” Dean says swiftly.

His expression hardens, all jokes put to rest as he dishes out items, “Gas” he says first, handing the large container to his brother, “Flashlights,” he lists out next filling my empty hand with one. 

“Ok, let’s get this done,” he quips, closing the trunk.

We trudge back over to the rusty truck, our flashlights leading our way across the grass. Dean places his hand on the handle and I must wonder how he isn’t grossed out by just the feeling of the flaked paint and rotting metal. He glances at us in a silent ‘you ready?’ We give a nod and he opens the door.

A decaying wet corpse falls out the door and onto the soft grass, a small gush of water following its lead. I leap back like a scared cat, clasping a hand to my mouth and nose the decomposition of the body as well as its marinating in swamp water left a putrid smell. One perhaps worse than anything I've ever smelt before which was saying something considering what I’ve hunted. 

“All right let’s get to it,” Dean says. Sam pours the gasoline all over the body, careful not to get it close to us and I jump in with the salt, opening the little latchet to sprinkle the small white crystals over the open-mouthed corpse. The satisfying scratch and flick of a match sounds softly beside me in the quiet night followed by the drop of the matchstick on the body. In mere seconds the remains go up in flames, the warm glow of the fire reflecting on the truck just beside it. I hoped no one would come looking over here with the whirl of smoke twirling above us, the heat powerful enough for me to take another step back. 

“Think that’ll do it?” Sam voices, staring down at the burning corpse. But his question is followed by the revving of an engine and two blinding lights pointed at us. Without looking in the direction I knew it was the ghost truck. “I guess not,” Dean quips.

 “So burning the body had no effect on that thing?” the younger Winchester asks. “Sure it did. Now it’s really pissed,” Dean responds. I glare at him, “I don't know if this is the time for cool jokes.”

“But Cyrus’ ghost is gone, right Dean?” Sam asks, a hint of panic in his voice as the tuck stares us down. But his brother doesn't answer right away, instead, he starts to walk away, “Apparently not the part that’s fused with the truck.”

 I go on my tip toes trying to peak into the truck, maybe we missed something like a severed piece of him that didn’t spill out but before I can vocalize this Sam is calling out to his brother, “Where are you going?” I turn around, catching up to the boys, “Goin’ for a little ride,” Dean answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What?!” Sam and I exclaim in unison, “That’s a horrible idea!” I add. But he ignores our concern, “Gonna lead that thing away. That busted piece of crap, you gotta burn it.”

“How the hell are we supposed to burn a truck, Dean?” Sam asks, voice raising in volume. But being the determined man he is he shrugs, “I don’t know. Figure something out.” He rounds the car, opening the driver's door, “At least let one of us come with you, this is horribly dangerous,” I try to reason.

His eyes move up and down my face, before he settles on my eyes once more, “‘Exactly why you’re not comin’ with.” Before I can come up with a retort on how stubborn he is he settles himself into the car, closing the door behind him. I look to Sam for any support on this but he just stares at the car muttering, “Figure some–something–”

I rack my brain for ideas because Dean wasn’t going to listen and would rather be all hot and stubborn than be reasonable, “An explosion?” I suggest. Sam shakes his head, “No, that wouldn’t work. Parts would go everywhere and everything has to burn.”

I huff, frustrated, “I hate when you’re right.” 

Dean reverses the Impala and takes off, the engine revering. As predictable as possible the ghost truck roars after him. I try to rack my brain for more ideas, even if we could suddenly light a truck on fire it would take too long for it to burn completely, “Sam, please tell me you got some idea rolling around in there.” He doesn't answer, lost in concentration with his bottom lip between his teeth. 

My phone suddenly rings in my pocket, I pull it out swiftly seeing Dean’s name glowing. I flip it open bringing it to my ear, “You okay?” I say immediately. “Uh…yeah,” He says but I remain not convinced, “what are we doing?” 

I look at Sam, panicking slightly, “Um, Sam what are we doing?”

He pulls out his phone, “You gotta give me a minute.” He presses his phone to his ear, “He says to give him a minute, I think he’s callin’ someone.”

“I don’t have a minute!” He half yells. “Dude, I don't know!” I panic, “Just…just don’t die, okay?”

“Trying here sweetheart.” I look back at Sam who has stepped away, I give him a hand motion of ‘please hurry up.’ He nods, coming closer to feed me info, “Ask him where he is.” I pull my phone away from my ear putting him on speaker instead, “Okay, Dean where the hell are you?”

“In the middle of nowhere with a killer truck on my ass!” he exclaims, “It’s like it knows I put the torch to Cyrus.”

“Listen to me, this is important” Sam orders, calmly, “I have to know exactly where you are.” Seemingly taking his advice he goes quiet for a beat, “Decatur Road, about two miles off the highway.”

“Ok. Headed East?” Sam follows up.

“Yes!”

A rattle and a bang followed by skitting noise sounds from the phone followed by cursing, “You son of a bitch!” 

“Sam!” I yell, begging him to hurry up. “Ok, uhhh, turn right! Up ahead, turn right.” Again the line falls silent, “You make the turn?” Sam questions softly. My heart beats faster with each silent moment that passes. “Yeah, I made the turn!” Dean yells, “You need to move this thing along a little faster.”

“All right, you see a road up ahead?” Sam asks.

“No!... Wait. No, yes, I see it.”

“Ok turn left.”

“Wha..?” Dean half says before he goes quiet again the only sound coming from the line being more screeching and shuffled movement. “All right, now what? He finally responds. 

“You need to go seven-tenths of a mile and then stop,” Sam explains. I looked at him strangely, noticing he wasn’t on the phone anymore, but what the hell was he talking about? “Stop?” Dean voices.

“Exactly seven-tenths Dean” Sam repeats. 

“God, I hope you know what you’re talking about,” I tell the man beside me. “Me too” he mumbles over the sound of his brother repeating the words ‘seven-tenths.’ I look at him my mouth agape, “You wha–” 

“Dean, you still there?” He cuts me off, focusing on his brother again. “Yeah,” Dean responds.

“What’s happening over there?” I ask, not knowing was killing me. “It’s just staring at me,” he answers carefully, “what do I do?”

“Just what you’re doing, bringing it to you,” Sam replies.

“Wha–” Dean began before cutting himself off, the line going quiet for the umpteenth time, “Come on. Come on,” he mumbled quietly but just loud enough for the phone to pick it up. My heart thumps in my chest, anticipation and fear running through my veins as well as something else from those two stupid words–something had to be wrong with me to find that hot now of all times.

The line is silent, for one beat, then another, then another…I grip my phone tighter, “Dean? Dean, are you there? ‘You okay?”

“Where’d it go?” he responds with a mix of shock and confusion. “Dean, you’re where the church was,” Sam explains. “What church!” he freaks.

“The place Cyrus burned down. Murdered all those kids,” Sam clarifies. 

“There’s not a whole lot left,” Dean responds.

“Church ground is hallowed ground, whether the church is still there or not. Evil spirits cross over hallowed ground, and sometimes they’re destroyed, so I figured, maybe, that would get rid of it,” Sam explains. I hit his arm, “That was a hunch?!”

Dean adds in with the lecturing, “Maybe? Maybe!! What if you were wrong?!”

“Huh,” Sam hums, “Honestly, that thought hadn’t occurred to me.”

I glare at him sharply, hitting his arm again as I say, “You’re too sassy for your own good.” He laughs, a boyish grin on his face.

I wait in the back, Sam in the driver seat for Dean to say his goodbyes. I liked the back seat, more now than ever because being in the front would mean being able to see out the side mirror and watch Dean kiss the woman he loves and say a goodbye I was sure he didn’t want. 

Life was being really unfair and uncool.

I bury my nose in my new book, it would be better to just escape into this world than have to deal with my feelings here in the real world. My feelings in the real world were not fun, they were depressing and hurt…a lot. But no amount of ink on paper formed into beautifully crafted words could fill the gaping hole in my heart, still, I tried as there was nothing else to do.

What is worse is knowing there will never be a chance for me to be loved by him, at least not in the way I do, because there will always be a place in his heart for her. He’ll think of her all the time, dream about her, and perhaps see her in the breeze. His heart belongs to her, and possibly always has.

I needed to accept that. The sooner I did the quicker the pain would go away. I couldn't go on believing I had a chance I needed to huff the flame out now. 

No more hope. No more love. We’re friends, always have been, and always will be. That will have to be enough. I couldn’t love him anymore, not if it meant feeling this much pain. I wouldn’t accept his touches anymore for they gave me more hope than I’d like to admit.

No. I was wrong.

Worse of all is knowing that I can’t just stop loving him. Let it be the Gods' fault or the stars or whatever it is I’m meant to believe in but my heart has long been his and always will be. I could never love someone the way I love him, I wasn’t capable of that. Let it be that our love was written in the star's constellations that it was undecided by me or him for my love had to transcend the binds of that nonsense.

I loved him and he did not love me and maybe it was that which I had to accept because to stop loving him would mean to stop my heart from beating. Though even then I suspect not even the afterlife could keep me from my eternal love. And maybe that was pathetic or stupid, especially since he did not care for me in such a way, but it was the truth and no one has ever claimed truth to be a beautiful thing.

I’m brought back to reality with a bump. When did we leave and start driving? I look out the window, we had already made it to the highway…I look at the boys, but both seem fine. Ok then.

“I like her,” Sam says, and suddenly I wish to be lost back in the state I was in moments ago. I would love not to hear or be a part of this conversation. “Yeah,” Dean replies, seemingly just to get his brother to stop.

“You meet someone like her, doesn’t it make you wonder if it’s worth it? Putting everything else on hold, doing what we do?” Sam asks innocently perhaps trying to get him to understand what he had felt with his girlfriend. But something flickers in his face and suddenly he’s making eye contact with me in the rearview mirror, his eyes written in apology as if it just hit him now what all of this was doing to me. It was that puppy dog look. 

I smile sadly at him, giving him a curt nod in a silent ‘it’s okay.’ His gaze flickers back to the road.

Dean leans forward pulling sunglasses from the glove box, he puts them on carefully ignoring his brothers' initial question, “Why don’t you wake me up when it’s my turn to drive?” He slouches down in his seat with a sigh. I shake my head, roll my eyes, and go back to my book.

We were leaving Missouri and all would be well, or as well as they could be.

[swarvey]

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

summary -> you get yourself a partner for the flower dance; harvey lets his imagination roam wild. warnings -> very mild hints of nsfw wc -> 2861

a/n: lowkey writing this chapter was sm fun. enjoy!! we're getting into the thick of it now >:)

ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6

paper rings masterlist

chapter five: you belong with me -> "been here all along, so why can't you see?"

“He’s dancing with who? ”

You looked at Haley with big eyes as she nonchalantly filed her nails. Emily, whom you’d learned was her older sister, continued to braid her blue hair, while Leah worked on her latest sculpture in the corner. The artist had invited the three of you to her cottage to spend some time together, to your surprise — from the small conversations you’d had with her throughout the season, she seemed to be pretty reserved. After running into her and the sisters more than a handful of times, though, she must have warmed up to all of you.

“His nurse,” the blonde repeated, her tone bored and monotone. “This is old news, keep up.”

“I only got here a few weeks ago,” you sighed, slumping down in your seat. “How was I supposed to know?”

“Haley, be nice,” Emily scolded lightly, walking over to Leah and admiring her work. 

The Spring season had flown by quicker than you anticipated, though it felt fulfilling to know you had accomplished so much in such a short period of time. Your once weed and debris-ridden farm was completely cleared, replaced with plots of crops. You made sure to leave some open spaces for the animals you were planning on getting, excited to take the next step in your farmer life.

Throughout the past few weeks, you’d gotten closer to Haley and her sister. The blue-haired girl was closer to your age, though her personality was a stark contrast compared to her younger sibling. She was open and expressive, while Haley was typically moody and blunt. Both of them were kind to you, though, and it was refreshing to talk to people you could at least somewhat relate to.

Obviously, you had Harvey, too. The two of you made sure to get dinner with each other at least once every week to make up for your lost time together, never once mentioning romance again. Instead, you easily fell back into rhythm with him, old jokes resurfacing and memories continuously being shared. You’d nearly forgotten what good company he made; he never interrupted you, and always made sure to ask about your day.

Better than any boyfriend you had, anyway.

“She’s just jealous because she has a crush on him.”

The comment snapped you back into the current conversation, head quickly turning to look at Haley. She had a knowing smirk on your face as you began to blush. 

“Honestly, you sound like a high schooler,” you huffed, turning away. “I’m just not used to the thought of Harvey liking someone, that’s all. It’s like knowing my brother has a girlfriend.”

“Right,” she responded, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “So, you’re not jealous?”

“No, I’m not.”

“And you’re not interested in dancing with someone? Y’know, just to see how he reacts?”

Silence.

Emily and Leah looked at you with similar expressions, brows raised and curiosity in their eyes.

“No, no way,” you laughed, as if she’d said a joke. “I mean, seriously? Who would do that?”

“I would,” Haley said without hesitation. “The worst that can happen is that he gets a little jealous, so what?”

“There is no way Harvey of all people would get jealous over something like that.”

“So do it.”

You looked at her with narrowed eyes, trying to think of a rational reply. She shrugged, not even bothering to look up at you.

Emily cleared her throat. “Well, it would be nice to see you dance,” she said, though there was a mischievous edge to her words. “You’d look beautiful in one of those dresses.”

You eyed Leah for her opinion, but she simply shook her head, continuing her work. “Don’t drag me into this,” she said, squinting at her woodwork. “I’m done messing around with guys.”

“You literally dance with Elliott every year,” Haley noted, pausing her filing to give her a deadpan stare.

“Elliott and I are friends, that’s all,” she replied, her voice final. “Besides, after what happened last time, I think I’m over boys completely.”

“You mean, you don’t think you’ll date again?” you asked.

“I never said that.”

Emily blinked in surprise. Haley hummed in approval, resuming her previous acts. Leah blushed slightly, though you gave her a reassuring smile and shrugged.

“Who am I going to dance with, anyway?” you questioned. “I mean, doesn’t everyone in town have a partner already?”

“I doubt Shane will do it,” Emily sighed, crossing her arms. “He only dances with me because Marnie forces him to every year.”

“I don’t know if Elliott will, either,” Leah added. “He’s a bit . . . particular.”

Haley dropped the file beside her, a tired breath escaping her as she wordlessly picked up her phone. 

You tilted your head. “What are you—”

“Alex, where are you?” A pause. “Come over to Leah’s. Now.”

The three of you gave amused glances to each other as Haley hung up, obviously annoyed by whatever Alex had said on the phone.

A few minutes later, the jock showed up to the cottage, roughly knocking twice before opening the door. Upon seeing the four of you sitting in Leah’s living room, he stopped suddenly in the doorway.

“Uh, am I . . . supposed to be here?” he asked.

“Just get in and shut the door,” Haley snapped. 

Sighing and mumbling something about her “not having to be so mean all the time,” Alex made his way over to all of you, awkwardly scratching the side of his head.

“You’re gonna dance with her this year,” she said, pointing her thumb at you.

“What?!” He quickly looked between you and her, dumbfounded by her remark. “Haley, why would I do that?! I don’t even remember this girl’s name!”

“I don’t doubt it,” you muttered, and Emily laughed.

“Listen up!” Haley stood, and despite being a solid few inches taller than her with a much larger build, Alex flinched, seeming to shrink away. “ You are dancing with her because, quite frankly, I’m sick of dancing with you!”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She groaned, rolling her eyes. “It means, we’ve been doing the same thing for years now, and I’m bored. I don’t want to do it, so I’m sitting out.”

“But you never—” She glared at him, daring him to finish his sentence. Instead, he let out a short breath of defeat. “Fine.” He turned to you, undeniably uninterested. “What’s your name again?”

“Y/N,” you replied, equally as flat-toned. “Thanks.”

“Sure, I guess. Can I go now?” You felt a little bad for him, especially since he looked like a kicked puppy,  but you knew him well enough that he’d bounce back within the hour. Haley nodded, and he quickly made his way out of the cottage.

“Actually, we should get going, too,” Emily said, checking the clock. “We still have to make dinner.” With that, her and her sister made their goodbyes, leaving you and Leah alone.

“You know,” she started, wiping her hands on her pants and looking at you with a smile, “she must really like you if she went to those lengths for you. I don’t think Haley’s ever sat out of the Flower Dance.”

You nodded, chewing your lip. “Yeah, well . . .” You trailed off, your head being filled with thoughts of Harvey and the words he’d said before.

“I guess we’ll see how it goes.”

-

Harvey anxiously fiddled with his tie as everyone began to arrive at the festival, brushing a hand through his hair.

Shane stood beside him and scoffed. “Seriously, you’re acting like we’re at your wedding. Calm down, doc.”

“Yes, I know, I just . . . I want to look put together.” For you, he wanted to add, but kept his mouth shut. “I can’t believe she’s going to see me do this dance,” he mumbled, not even having to say your name for his friend to know who he was talking about.

“If I can do this every year in front of Jas, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he replied, looking at his goddaughter with a fond look on his face. Those were the only moments where Harvey saw the typically stoic man soften. 

“Before you know it, she and Vincent will be old enough to participate themselves, you know,” he said, hiding his smile when Shane scowled and whipped his head towards him.

��Like hell, she will,” he retorted, giving her friend a death stare. “That kid better watch it. He does anything to Jas and I swear I’ll—”

“Ah, my glorious friends! How are you this fine morning?”

Harvey and Shane nearly toppled over as Elliott appeared in between them, balancing them with his arms wrapped around their shoulders. Harvey was sure he heard the man next to him mutter some not-so-kind comments under his breath, but ignored them.

“It was fine, up until a few seconds ago,” Shane snapped, ducking out of his hold. “How are you always so damn chipper at every hour of the day?”

Elliott stood up straight proudly, his healthy hair shining in the light. “You see, this is what the magnificent tool of sleep can provide you. With proper vitamins and a good night’s sleep, anyone can be as energetic as a hare.”

“What is this, a fuckin’ ad?” 

“He’s not wrong,” Harvey chimed, making Shane grumble and walk away towards Jas.

“Ah, I’m afraid I have some news to share with you, my friend,” Elliott started, turning to look at him with a slightly worried look on his face.

Curious, Harvey opened his mouth to question him, but was interrupted by the sound of Emily gasping loudly and calling out your name. 

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next.

He watched as you walked into the festival wearing a flowy white dress, flowers intertwined into your hair. He swore he felt his heart jump at the sight, unimaginable thoughts racing through his head as he wondered what it would’ve been like to be by your side then, or even before at home helping you put the dress on, drunk on the sight of your exposed skin—

Wait.

Harvey’s imagination went blank when he saw Alex by your side, saying something to you to make you laugh. Certainly he was dreaming, right? He’d seen you just the other day, and you had never once mentioned anything about the aspiring gridball player. Was he even your type? Was that what you were looking for? If so, his hopes were out the door. 

“Harvey? You okay?”

As he blinked back into focus, Harvey realized Maru was now standing in front of him, concern written all over her features. He turned to glance at Elliott confusedly — noting how he was anxiously biting his fist before mouthing him a sorry — before giving his nurse a kind smile, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder.

“Yes, sorry, something just . . . came to mind,” he lied. “You look amazing, Maru. Thank you for dancing with me again.”

She laughed. “You don’t have to thank me every year, Harvey, it’s not like I’m doing this against my will. I like dancing with you.” Her face flushed slightly at her last sentence, though he paid it no mind. He was more interested in your figure walking over to him, a lopsided smile on your face.

“Hey, Maru,” you greeted, an ounce of tension in your tone. 

Though, Maru didn’t seem to notice, smiling brightly back at you. “Hey! You look great, you’re paired up with Alex, right?”

“That’s right!” His jaw tensed at your despicably happy mood. “Haley wasn’t too interested in dancing this year, so he decided to ask me.”

A lie . Harvey knew you well enough by then to tell when you were lying, and he felt it immediately as the words left your mouth. Why, though? What were you doing? Or, more so, what part were you lying about?

“Cool,” the nurse replied simply, completely oblivious. “Well, I think we’re about to start, so how about we all get lined up?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You jumped slightly when Harvey pulled you back by your arm, trying his best not to be swayed by your looks as he scanned your face.

“What?” you laughed, feigning innocence. “Is there something on my face?”

He shook his head quickly, blushing before letting you go. “No, it’s just . . . I didn’t expect you to be dancing, is all.”

“Well, someone didn’t ask me,” you teased, making any words get caught in his throat. “I’m kidding, Harvs. Alex just needed someone to dance with.”

Another lie. “I see.” 

“Harvey, come on!” He waved to Maru in acknowledgment, giving you one last look before beginning to walk away.

“You, uh, you look stunning, Y/N,” he managed, turning so he couldn’t see your reaction.

As the music began to play, Harvey’s body easily began to move with it, remembering each step after years of doing the same movements. The only difference, though, was your body in his line of sight, Alex’s arm wrapped around the small of your back. 

A familiar feeling started to rise from his gut. He recognized it as how he felt in the saloon the first day you’d gotten to Pelican Town, telling him shortly about your previous relationships. He didn’t like how it made him feel, not at all, but he couldn’t resist it as he observed you. What kind of cruel game was the universe playing? 

Alex looked down at you, giving you a small, unexpectedly shy smile. You grinned back.

That should be me. The singular thought raced through his head as the music swelled, Maru twirling under his arm in front of him. His eyes stayed on you, breaths becoming hot with jealousy. You should be with me, not him.

Then, as everyone entered the last part of the dance, you tripped on your dress, nearly falling backward. Harvey tensed, and if it weren’t for Maru already leaning back on his arms, he would have lunged for you. 

It didn’t matter, though, as Alex had already caught you, his face inches away from yours as you panted heavily.

As everyone applauded, Harvey gently let go of the girl in his arms, looking away and taking a couple deep breaths to still himself. How was this happening? Did you enjoy seeing him suffer? 

Apparently, you did, as you lingered in Alex’s arms after standing up. He watched as Emily and Haley greeted you with smiles, even Leah walking up to compliment you. No one seemed as taken aback by the situation as he was, though that was of no surprise to him. 

“Seriously, Harvey,” Maru said, and he realized she was standing in front of him with her hands on her hips. “You don’t look too hot. It wouldn’t look too good if the town’s doctor got sick, would it?”

Harvey cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. I think it’d be best for me to go a bit early, then.” She nodded in agreement. Guilt ate at him as he walked away — he felt terrible for leaving Maru there alone, but she was right. Although he didn’t have the kind of sickness she was thinking of, he was obviously not in the right state of mind to be interacting with people who mostly saw him as a pillar of stability.

Just as he escaped the forest area, a voice called his name, his eyes widening as he recognized it immediately. 

“Where are you going? Everyone’s still there,” you asked. You had a leaf sticking to the front of your dress and your face was blushed from running to him. 

If you were his, he would’ve dragged you home with him, making good riddance of that damned piece of clothing before showing you just what you did to him. 

Instead, he walked forward a couple of steps and plucked the leaf off, allowing it to drop out of his hand easily.

“I’m not feeling very well,” he said, voice thick and gravely. You looked at him with another new look in your eyes, though he couldn’t decipher what that one meant. Were you upset? Confused?

Or were you interested in the sound of his jealousy-filled tone?

“Right,” you replied shortly, nodding. “You should go get some rest, then.”

“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner?”

“You know the drill.”

With that, Harvey turned back around, almost in a daze as he resumed his journey home. As soon as he got in his apartment, he fell to the ground in exhaustion, swiftly loosening his tie as he leaned back on his door for support. His thoughts were filled with the image of you dancing with the jock, except he imagined it was himself by your side, swaying to the music with your hand entangled with his. Then, of course, there were the thoughts of what would come after; after he’d walk you home, after he would lock the front door, after he’d shrug off his suit and push you onto the bed, lifting the dress and exploring what was underneath. 

At that moment, Harvey knew it was hopeless.

He would trade anything, go to opposite ends of the earth, if it meant you’d be with him.

[todorokis-girl]

Getting back with your ex? - Suna Rintarou (pt 1)

(part 2) After a painful breakup and years apart, Y/N and Suna Rintarou are forced to work together again in the world of professional volleyball. When an unexpected injury and a work trip to Okinawa bring them closer, unresolved feelings and old wounds resurface. Amidst professional obligations and personal turmoil, they must navigate their complicated past and uncertain future. Can they overcome their history and find their way back to each other, or will the lingering pain keep them apart forever?

masterlist

I shake slightly as I walk into the Olimpic team training area, bag and binder in hand. The imposing structure of the stadium looms above me, filled with the echoes of bouncing volleyballs and distant shouts. The Japan media agency was recently activated to manage the promotions and media activities for the team, and I was assigned as their specific manager. Lucky me. Kuroo deserved to be beheaded, it was his job to promote them anyway, he could do it by himself! Ok, that would be unrealistic, and I’m just pissed. Kuroo did NOT deserve to be beheaded.

Taking a deep breath, I try to steady my nerves, but I only shake more the deeper I get into the stadium. Anyone would be thrilled to work with them—actually, everyone was thrilled. I think I was the only one not foaming at the mouth to manage them; yet I think that was my downfall. Damn you, indifference. In reality, I wasn’t indifferent. In any other circumstance, I’d foam at the mouth like everyone else for the job. Yet, Suna Rintaro was a member of this team. Of course he is. I would’ve given my left arm for it to have been Osamu instead.

Suna and I dated in high school. If anything was known about me in those days, it was that I drooled for my boyfriend. As the manager for the Inarizaki team, I most definitely gave him preferential treatment, and Osamu loved to bitch about it. I missed those days.

I was head over heels, down on my knees for this man. And then he became a professional volleyball player. To quote him directly, “I don’t have the time for you.” Yet weeks later, I started seeing magazine articles of him out with different models. No time, my ass. Just say you don’t love me and move on.

I took the deepest breath I could muster and walked into the court area, laser-focused on making it to the coach first. The court was a whirlwind of activity, players diving, spiking, and shouting encouragements. My heart pounded louder with each step. I needed to ask for the remaining time from practice to talk and get to know the players as much as I could. When the coach finally spotted me, he looked me up and down with a scrutinizing gaze, then stared into my soul. Intimidating man. I smiled and extended my hand to him once I was close enough.

“Hello, sir, I’m L/N Y/N. I’m the team's new media manager, Kuroo Tetsuro had called to notify ahead of time. I was told I could have the last hour of practice to talk to the team and get to know them, if that’s okay with you, of course.”

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze piercing through my façade of calm, and gave a deep sigh. “Yes.”

I smiled and stood back, giving him the space to address the team when he thought it prudent. “Everyone, head to the showers and meet this young lady in the conference room in 10.”

A chorus of “Yes, sir” rang around the court, followed by the sound of sneakers squeaking on the floor. The players began to disperse, casting curious glances my way. Before anyone could properly look at me, I bowed to the coach and attempted to make a run to the conference room after being given directions.

“Y/N.” I stopped in my tracks, my eyes widening as I recognized the voice of Suna.

“Who?”

“Y/N, c’mon.”

“I really don’t know who you’re talking about. I don’t know this... Y/N, was it?”

“I can see it’s you. I know it’s you. I’d recognize your back anywhere.”

I spun around immediately, ready to chew him out for what he was insinuating, but I was met by his bright smile, almost as if he was expecting it. His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Yeah, no doubt about it. That’s my girl.”

I stopped the words that were about to spill out of my mouth and replaced them with a different set. “I’m not your girl anymore.” I looked down at my watch, more for symbolic effect than to check the time. “I will definitely be telling Coach Foster if you’re late to the conference room. You have five minutes left.”

Without giving him a chance to process what had happened, I turned again and headed pointedly to the conference room, my steps echoing my determination.

As I marched towards the conference room, my thoughts were a whirlwind. The confrontation with Suna had set my nerves alight, but I couldn’t afford to lose my focus. The team’s future media presence rested on my shoulders, and I had to be professional, no matter how tangled my past with Suna was.

The conference room was a stark contrast to the bustling court. It was quiet and orderly, with a long table in the center surrounded by sleek chairs. I set my bag and binder down, pulling out my notes and arranging them meticulously. I had just enough time to compose myself before the players started trickling in.

First came Sakusa Kiyoomi, his expression inscrutable as he took a seat at the far end of the table. He gave a curt nod, acknowledging my presence without a word. Next were Hinata Shoyo and Bokuto Koutarou, chatting animatedly and filling the room with their infectious energy. They greeted me with enthusiastic smiles, making me feel a bit more at ease.

Finally, Suna walked in, casual and confident, as if our earlier exchange hadn’t affected him at all. He took a seat near the middle, flashing me a knowing grin. I ignored him and turned to face the team.

“Thank you all for coming,” I began, trying to keep my voice steady. “As you know, my agency has been hired to manage your media presence; Kuroo Tetsuro will handle the rest of the coordinations or team promotions. My goal is to help each of you shine, both on and off the court. I’ll be working closely with you to develop your public personas and ensure you get the recognition you deserve.”

I paused, gauging their reactions. Most of the team seemed receptive, though Sakusa remained impassive. Suna leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“To start, I’d like to get to know each of you better,” I continued. “Understanding your personalities, interests, and goals will help me tailor our approach to suit you individually. We’ll go around the table, and each of you can share a bit about yourselves. Let’s start with you, Hinata.”

Hinata beamed and launched into a lively account of his journey in volleyball, his eyes shining with passion. His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon, the rest of the team was sharing their stories, laughing and bonding over shared experiences. Even Sakusa offered a few guarded sentences, and I could sense the walls between us beginning to crumble.

When it was Suna’s turn, he spoke with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, detailing his rise to fame with practiced ease. I couldn’t help but notice the glances he threw my way, testing my reactions. “I even had a girlfriend once, with me all the way to the start of my professional career; can’t believe I let ‘er go” I met his gaze evenly, refusing to let him see how much he affected me.

“Thank you for sharing, Suna,” I said, cutting him off before he could drag out his story any longer. “It’s clear that each of you brings something unique to the team, and I’m excited to work with you all.”

I glanced at my notes, ready to move on to the next part of the meeting. “Now, let’s talk about some of the upcoming promotional events and media opportunities. We have a few scheduled interviews, photo shoots, and public appearances. I’ll need your cooperation and input to make sure we present you in the best possible light.”

The discussion flowed smoothly, with the players offering ideas and feedback. Despite the initial tension, the atmosphere gradually became more collaborative. By the end of the meeting, I felt a sense of accomplishment. We were laying the foundation for a successful partnership, and I was determined to prove myself as their media manager.

As the team began to disperse, Suna lingered behind, his eyes following me as I gathered my things. I braced myself for another confrontation, but he simply leaned against the table, watching me with an amused expression.

“You handled that well, Y/N,” he said, his tone surprisingly sincere. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but you’ve still got that fire.”

I paused, meeting his gaze. “I’m here to do a job, Suna. That’s all.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Sure, if that’s what you want to believe.”

“What I want to believe? You think I asked for this position?” I was appalled that he was suggesting I deliberately choose this to seek him out.

He gave me a cocky grin and without another word, he pushed off from the table and walked out, leaving me standing there with a mix of emotions. I took a deep breath, pushing aside the memories and focusing on the task at hand. There was a lot of work to be done, and I was ready to face it head-on. Suna was NOT going to make me lose my head. He let me go once, and I had given him all of myself, it wasn’t happening again. Kuroo was definitely getting an earful ‘don’t be so dramatic, It’s gonna be fine’.

I huffed to myself finally stepping out of the room and on my way to my car, my hand automatically reaching for my phone, if I had to vent, Kuroo was getting it.

As I reached my car and slid into the driver's seat, I quickly unlocked my phone and dialed Kuroo's number. The phone rang a few times before his familiar, lazy voice answered.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s up? Seriously, Kuroo? You dumped the Olympic team’s media management on me, that’s what’s up!”

He chuckled, and I could practically hear his smug grin through the phone. “I knew you could handle it. You’re the best we’ve got.”

“Flattery isn’t going to save you,” I snapped, gripping the steering wheel. “You could have at least warned me about Suna being on the team. Do you have any idea how awkward that was?”

There was a brief pause, and then Kuroo sighed. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. You’re professionals, right? Just… don’t let him get to you.”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered. “He’s still as infuriating as ever.”

“Look, just focus on the job. You’re great at what you do, and the team needs you. Besides, Suna’s just one player. Don’t let him distract you.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just… complicated.”

“I know. But you’ve got this. If anyone can turn this team into media darlings, it’s you.”

“Thanks, Kuroo. I’ll do my best.”

“That's my girl,” he said with a note of pride in his voice. “Keep me updated, okay?”

“Will do. And Kuroo?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time, give me a heads-up, will you?”

He laughed. “You got it. Take care, Y/N.”

I hung up and took a few moments to collect myself before starting the car. The drive home was a blur, my mind occupied with thoughts of Suna and the daunting task ahead. By the time I pulled into my driveway, I had resolved to put all personal feelings aside and focus solely on my work.

The next morning, I arrived at the training facility early, armed with my binder and a renewed sense of determination. Today, I had individual meetings scheduled with each player to discuss their personal branding and media strategy. I hoped to gain a deeper understanding of their personalities and how best to present them to the public.

Hinata was first. His energy was infectious, and his enthusiasm for the sport shone through every word he said. We discussed his goals and how to leverage his vibrant personality to connect with fans.

Next was Bokuto, who was equally charismatic but in a more boisterous way. His love for the game was palpable, and I made notes on how to highlight his dynamic presence in interviews and social media.

Sakusa was a bit more challenging. He was reserved and guarded, but I managed to coax out his interests and preferences. We discussed ways to showcase his quieter, more introspective side while still appealing to the team's fanbase.

Finally, it was Suna’s turn. He sauntered into the conference room with his usual nonchalance, sitting down across from me with a smirk.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

I ignored his tone and focused on my notes. “Alright, Suna. I want to understand your goals and how we can present you to the public. What are you hoping to achieve with your media presence?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You really think people care about that stuff?”

“Yes, I do. Your fans want to know more about you than just your performance on the court. They want to connect with you as a person.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. I want to be seen as a serious athlete. I don’t want all that fluff and nonsense. Just focus on my game.”

I nodded, jotting down his words. “Got it. We’ll highlight your dedication and professionalism. Anything else you want to add?”

He studied me for a moment, his gaze intense. “You still care about what people think, don’t you?”

I met his eyes, refusing to back down. “It’s my job to care, Suna. And it’s yours too, whether you like it or not.”

He smirked again, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes. “You’ve changed, Y/N. You’re tougher now.”

“I had to be,” I replied, packing up my things. “Meeting’s over. Thanks for your time.”

As I walked out of the room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Suna was watching me, his eyes lingering longer than necessary. I pushed the thought aside and focused on the task at hand. There was still a lot of work to be done, and I was determined to succeed.

Over the next few weeks, I threw myself into my work, coordinating interviews, photo shoots, and public appearances. The players gradually warmed up to me, and we began to build a cohesive media strategy that highlighted their unique strengths.

Despite my initial apprehension, things started to fall into place. The team’s media presence improved, and their popularity soared. Even Sakusa, with his reserved nature, began to open up in front of the camera.

Through it all, Suna remained a constant challenge. He was professional during our meetings, but there was always an undercurrent of tension between us. Yet, I couldn’t deny that working with him pushed me to be better, to stay focused and not let my emotions get in the way.

One evening, after a particularly successful interview session, I found myself alone in the conference room, reviewing the footage. The door creaked open, and Suna walked in, his expression unreadable.

“Hey,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” I replied, not looking up from my notes.

He walked over and sat down across from me, his gaze fixed on my face. “You’ve done a good job with the team.”

“Thanks,” I said, still focused on my work. “We’re not done yet, though. There’s always room for improvement.”

“Yeah, but you’ve made a difference. Even I can see that.”

I finally looked up, meeting his eyes. “What do you want, Suna?”

He leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. For everything. High school, the way I ended things. I was a jerk.”

I blinked, taken aback by his sudden sincerity. “Why now?”

“Because I’ve had a lot of time to think. And seeing you here, working so hard, made me realize how much I messed up.”

I sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration. “I appreciate the apology, Suna. But it doesn’t change what happened.”

He stays silence his eyes seeming to be inspecting my face, as if looking for something else “I know, I still wanted to try” 

I studied his face, searching for any hint of insincerity. But all I saw was genuine regret. “Fine”

He smiled, a real, honest smile that made my heart ache with nostalgia. I hate that I genuinely miss him. 

As he stood up to leave, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders; but a certain, different desire settled in me. I watched him leave, and closed my eyes for a second. It seems watching him leave was all I knew how to do. 

I turned back to my notes. There was still a lot of work to be done, and I was ready to face it head-on, no matter what challenges came my way; but maybe I needed Kuroo to come along with me more often, even if he was busy getting the schedules and making the plans. 

One afternoon, after hours of looking through notes and interview footage, I found myself in the staff lounge, nursing a cup of coffee. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. I was lost in thought when the door opened, and Kuroo walked in, looking as tired as I felt.

“Hey,” he said, flopping down in the chair next to mine. “How’s it going?”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Busy. Exhausting. But good. The team’s doing great.”

Kuroo nodded, taking a sip of his own coffee. “You’re doing an amazing job, Y/N. Glad I choose you to help me out, I don’t know how I’d do it without you”

I smiled, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “Thanks, Kuroo, I apreciate the apreciation; what are you doing here anyway? Mister sports promoter not have a big fancy office at a big fancy building?”

He raised an eyebrow and turned to face me, the scrutiny in his eyes heavy “I want to wear gym clothes every once in a while, and I cant do that at the office. Miss sports media manager” I smiled and nooded, showing I understood. 

I mean, he was right, one of the couple of upside of working in the training arena was the ability of being able to show up in sweats and leggings, as it was the most proper attire. 

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “But seriously, if you need anything, just let me know. We’re in this together, even if I am technically your boss”

“Actually,” I said, glancing at him, “I was thinking if you could come along to a few more of the meetings. Having you there would make things a bit easier.” My voice filled with hope. 

Kuroo looked at me, his expression thoughtful. “Of course. I’ll rearrange my schedule. All the player meetings or someone in particular?”

I felt like a deer caugh in headlights “well… uhm…”

“So just Suna Rintarou?” he asked with a knowing tone, and I couldn’t deny it; I just hoped he would agree to it and not pull the ‘I’m your boss’ card, not that he ever did “Sure, I’ll do the meetings with Suna and pass along the info” 

“Thanks, Kuroo,” I said, feeling a wave of relief wash over me.

He grinned, standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know when the meetings with Suna are”

“Will do,” I replied, watching him leave the lounge. As I turned back to my coffee, noticing it was cold. 

I was going to start seeing Suna a lot less often, no more weekly meetings with him, and I would try to make my time in the office a little more unnavailable to him by doing them exclusively during practice hours. This was something high school me would’ve come up with, and I knew that, but I don’t currently have the mental space to come up with something better. 

(part 2)

[alinawritess]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 ❀ | Rewrite

❀ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. Vinnie Hacker x fem!reader x Matt Sturniolo

❀ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. Four years ago, Vinnie and you, were once deeply in love, but had to part ways as both your skyrocketing careers in Hollywood and LA strained your long-distance relationship. The breakup was heartbreaking, leaving Vinnie with unresolved feelings. Now, at a glamorous Hollywood party, he unexpectedly encounters you, his former flame, who is now with the charismatic YouTube star Matt Sturniolo. As old emotions resurface, their polite yet charged interaction hints at unresolved tension and nostalgia.

❀ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 7.4k

❀ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬). Heartbreak┆︎ Emotional Distress ┆︎ Long-Distance Relationship Challenges ┆︎ Regret┆︎ Unresolved Feelings ┆︎ Nostalgia┆︎ Emotional Vulnerability┆︎ No Use of Y/N.

❀ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. I actually decided to read this and edit it, hope you like it (I didn't write seven THOUSAND words for no reason) <3

𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐠𝐨

Vinnie and you had been together for two wonderful years, just starting out in the influencer industry. Nobody really knew you two were dating; it was something private, a decision both of you had made. People and fans knew you were both seeing someone, but they just didn't know who. Your relationship felt like a perfect fit, filled with love and understanding.

Today, as you come through the apartment doors, exhaustion is written all over your face after a long day of practicing your lines for your upcoming movie. The filming is in Hollywood, and you haven't figured out how to tell your beloved partner that maybe you should take a break while you're filming. After all, he had his days where he seemed busy too. To say that your relationship was perfect would be a lie; recently, both of you had been busy with your hectic schedules, barely having time for one another.

As you walk through the door of your shared apartment, Vinnie looks up upon hearing it open.

"Hi, love," he greets you with a smile.

"Hi, Mr. Hacker," you say, playfully using the new nickname you made up for him.

Vinnie chuckles warmly, the sound of his laughter filling the room.

"Mr. Hacker? Oh, is that what we're going with now?" he teased, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest, his gaze fixated on you, his smile widening.

Vinnie chuckles. "That's a new nickname. Not really your style to be calling me by nicknames," he adds.

He walks up to you and gently wraps his arms around your sides, but you pull back slightly.

"Do you hate it?" you tease lightly.

He shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He pulls you close again, not letting you pull away this time.

"No, not at all. I quite like it," he murmurs, his voice soft and low. His hands rest on your hips, his fingers gently massaging small circles into them.

He notices your initial attempt to pull away, his smirk turning into a quizzical expression. "Is everything okay?" he asks, sensing something amiss. Seeing your hands fidget and sensing your distracted thoughts, he truly knew how to read you like an open book, understanding your every emotion.

"We need to talk," you say, slipping from his embrace.

His smirk fades instantly once you say those words. That phrase, "We need to talk," had a reputation for never indicating anything good. Vinnie instinctively tenses; his mind begins to wonder if anything is wrong with you and your relationship.

He looks at you for a moment, noting the way you slipped from his grasp. A pang of anxiety washes over him, but he tries to keep his face calm.

"Okay," he starts, his voice steady despite the flutter of worry that is coursing through his veins. "What is it that you want to talk about?"

"I feel like we're not on the same page in life as we used to be," you say, your voice tinged with concern.

Those words hit Vinnie like a punch in the gut. He takes a step back, his eyes searching your face, trying to read your emotions. He knew this conversation was coming, but that didn't make it any easier to hear.

His hands clench into fists subconsciously, his knuckles turning white.

"What do you mean we're not on the same page?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of defensiveness.

"You've been pretty distant with band things and photoshoots," you explain, "and I guess we only see each other once or twice a week. None of us have even brought it up; it's like we don't care that our schedules mess our relationship up and we don't even try to fix it or talk about it. Every time we do see each other, we just act like we're some perfect couple, like nothing's tearing us apart beneath the surface."

Vinnie listens, his expression growing more solemn with each word you speak. Your words strike at something deep within him, a truth that he has been trying to ignore.

He looks down at his hands, fingers clenching and unclenching as he absorbs your words. A muscle in his jaw tenses as he grapples with the reality of what you're saying.

"I didn't realize it was affecting us that badly," he admits, finally looking back up at you. "I guess I just... I don't know. I thought we were handling things, you know?"

"It's fine," you reassure him. "I'm not saying stop chasing your dreams. Go for it. But what if we took a break?"

Vinnie's gaze hardened a bit at the mention of the word "break." The fear of losing you crept into his heart, and it showed on his face. However, he tried to keep his voice calm.

"A break...?" he echoed, the word feeling heavy on his tongue.

He takes a step forward, his eyes locking with yours. There's a mixture of panic and pleading in his gaze. "You... You mean break up...?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, afraid of what the answer might be.

"Yeah..." you say. "You know, maybe try things, chase our dreams."

His heart sinks upon hearing your answer. He had hoped that you weren't referring to a break-up, but now the reality of the situation was setting in.

Vinnie takes a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. There's a mix of shock and hurt in his eyes.

"Chase our dreams...?" he repeats, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. He walks around the kitchen island and sits on one of the stools, resting his elbows on the countertop and burying his face in his hands.

"Is that what you really want?" he asks, his voice muffled.

"Kinda," you admit. "Maybe you'll finally be the model or singer you want to be. Maybe your band will finally hit the top 100 charts, maybe even number one. And maybe, just maybe, I can be on TV."

Vinnie sighs, his shoulders growing heavy with the weight of your words. A part of him wanted to argue, to defend the dreams he's been chasing for years, but the look on your face told him you were serious about this.

He looks up, his gaze falling on you, his expression a mixture of sadness and resignation.

"So this is... This is really happening, then?" he asks quietly. "We're ending this. Is that what you're saying?"

"I suppose, I mean the truth is we've been so distant from each other. We barely have enough time for this relationship," you explain. "I'm going to be in Hollywood for a while for my upcoming movie, and you're going to be in LA. Is it truly going to work?"

Vinnie's hands grip the edge of the countertop tightly, his knuckles turning white. A pang of regret stabs through his heart as he lets the news sink in.

"Hollywood..." he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

He looks back up at you, his gaze searching. "For how long will you be in Hollywood?" he asks, dreading the answer.

"I really don't know," you say.

The uncertainty in your voice only worsens the knot tightening in Vinnie's stomach.

"Not knowing for sure...?" he repeats, his voice filled with both frustration and fear. His grip on the countertop tightens even more.

He stares at you for a few moments, his mind racing with thoughts. Then, he lets out a frustrated sigh and stands up, pacing around the kitchen.

"And what about us? What happens to us?" he asks, his voice tinged with desperation.

"I don't know, Vinnie," you admit, tears welling up in your own eyes. "I don't know what the future holds. I know because of this movie role, I'm going to be away for a long time."

Vinnie stops pacing when he hears the tears in your voice. His heart aches, and he wants nothing more than to hold you in his arms, to tell you that things will work out, but the truth is, he doesn't know either.

He looks at you, his own eyes damp with unshed tears. "It's not just about you being away," he says quietly. "It's about us being so detached from each other lately. We barely spend time together, and when we do, it just doesn't feel the same."

You say nothing, unsure how to respond, biting on your nails.

The silence that hangs in the air is deafening. Vinnie doesn't say anything either, watching you as you bite your nails, a nervous habit you've always had. It breaks his heart even more to see the uncertainty on your face.

He takes a step closer to you, his voice softer than before. "You see it too, right? That something is wrong with us?" he asks, hope and despair mixing in his voice.

"Yeah..." you hesitate.

The confirmation that you agree hits Vinnie like another blow. Even though he knew deep down, hearing you say it out loud somehow makes it more real.

He reaches out to touch your arm gently, his fingers tracing a small circle on your skin.

"I never wanted this, you know that, right?" he whispers, his voice filled with a mixture of sorrow and anger. "I never wanted us to grow apart like this."

"I mean I understand why we've just been doing our own thing for a while, for so long. I mean we met in high school and never expected the fame we have to grow."

Vinnie nods silently, his gaze dropping to the floor. He knows exactly what you're saying. The fame and success you've both achieved were beyond anything either of you could have imagined.

He lifts his head back up and looks at you, his expression a mix of pain and resignation. "It's like we've been so focused on chasing our dreams, we forgot to keep dreaming together," he says softly.

Those words hang heavy in the air. Vinnie feels a pang of guilt wash over him. You both chased after your dreams, but somehow you lost sight of the one dream you had together.

He takes a small step forward, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch yours. "We can't change the past," he murmurs, "but is there no way we can salvage our future?"

"If I come back and we both have the same feelings for one another, maybe we could be... maybe," you suggest tentatively.

Vinnie's heart skips a beat at your words. A glimmer of hope sparks within him, a tiny flicker of possibility.

He lets out a shaky breath, his fingers gripping yours tighter. "Maybe..." he repeats softly, as if the word would vanish if he spoke it too loud.

He steps forward again, closing the distance between you. His other hand reaches up to cup your face gently. "But you're going to be gone for so long..." he whispers, the words catching in his throat.

"How about a hug? A kiss would feel too intimate, don't you think?" you suggest.

Vinnie nods, understanding the sentiment. He'd love nothing more than to pull you into a tight embrace, to hold you close and whisper reassurances in your ear. But you're right, a kiss would feel too intimate, too final.

He pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"I'm sorry," you say softly, tears streaming down your face.

Vinnie feels you shivering in his arms, the sound of your muffled sobs breaking his heart. His own chest tightens, his own tears threatening to fall.

He leans his head against yours, his arms holding you even tighter. "It's okay, love," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry too."

"I loved you so much, and I hope you find everything you're looking for too."

Vinnie's grip on you becomes even tighter, his body trembling from the weight of your words. Hearing you speak in the past tense about how you love him is like a dagger to his heart.

He pulls back slightly so he can look into your tear-filled eyes. "I loved you too," he replies, his voice cracking slightly, "And I always will. I wish... I wish we could have found everything together."

"I wish we could've too, but I don't think we can."

With those words, something in Vinnie shatters. He's holding onto you, but he feels like he's falling apart.

He swallows the lump in his throat, desperately trying to keep his emotions in check, but a tear escapes, rolling down his cheek. "We had so many dreams together," he murmurs, his voice breaking. "And now... now we're just letting them all go?"

Eventually, you release him, your expression a mix of sadness and acceptance.

Vinnie feels the moment your arms loosen around him, the moment you let go. It feels like you're slipping away, and he knows he can't stop it.

His hands drop to his sides, empty now that they're not holding you. He looks at you, taking in the mix of sadness and acceptance on your face. It's in that moment that he finally understands it's really happening.

"This is goodbye, isn't it?" he asks quietly, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

"I guess it is, Vincent."

Those words feel like a punch to the gut. Hearing you say his name, but in a way that feels so distant, so final, is almost unbearable.

He nods slightly, his eyes falling to the ground. The lump in his throat grows larger, threatening to choke him.

"Goodbye..." he whispers, the word tasting like bile on his tongue.

"Goodbye, Vin," you say softly.

He nods again, unable to form any words. Saying goodbye to you feels like the hardest thing he's ever done. His heart is heavy, a mixture of sorrow, regret, and disbelief washing over him.

As you start to walk away, Vinnie's hand twitches, instinct telling him to reach out and pull you back. But he doesn't. Instead, he stands there, rooted to the spot, watching you walk out of his life.

You slowly walk towards the door and open it, pausing for a moment to look back at him one final time. Your tear-filled eyes meet his for a few seconds before you step out the door, disappearing into the unknown.

After you leave, the apartment falls eerily silent. The absence of your voice, your footsteps, your presence is deafening.

Vinnie stands in the middle of the living room, his gaze fixed on the empty space you left behind. It feels surreal, like he's in a nightmare from which he can't wake up.

Then the realization of your absence hits him like a ton of bricks. You're gone, and he's alone. A strangled noise escapes his throat, somewhere between a gasp and a sob.

Days turn into weeks, and the silence in the apartment only grows louder. Vinnie feels like he's living on autopilot, going through the motions of his daily routine but with a huge part of him missing.

His nights are filled with sleeplessness as he stares at the empty space beside him in the bed. The pillow still holds the faint scent of your hair, and it both comforts and tortures him.

He tries to distract himself with work, with the band, with anything he can think of. But nothing seems to fill the void left by your absence. The silence in the apartment is maddening, the space feels empty and cold without you.

Vinnie's thoughts are constantly haunted by memories of you, the way you used to laugh, the way you used to smile, the way you used to make him feel. It's as if you're everywhere and nowhere at once, a constant reminder of what he's lost.

The apartment, once a warm and lively space filled with love and laughter, now feels like a hollow shell. The photos on the walls, the little mementos of your time together, they all feel like ghosts of a past he can't seem to let go of.

Vinnie spends countless hours staring at his phone, hoping to see a message from you, a sign that maybe you're thinking about him too. But the screen remains stubbornly blank, a silent testament to the distance growing between you.

Every day feels like a struggle, a battle against the gnawing emptiness that threatens to consume him. He pours himself into his work, hoping to drown out the pain with music and the camaraderie of his bandmates. But even the thrill of performing, something that used to bring him so much joy, now feels hollow without you by his side.

As the weeks turn into months, Vinnie begins to accept the reality of your absence. The pain doesn't lessen, but it becomes a part of him, a constant ache that he learns to live with. He knows he can't hold onto the past forever, but letting go of you feels like letting go of a part of himself.

The dreams you shared, the future you once envisioned together, they all feel like distant memories now. But despite the pain, Vinnie holds onto the hope that maybe, someday, your paths will cross again. Maybe you'll find your way back to each other, and maybe, just maybe, you'll find that the love you once shared is still there, waiting to be rekindled.

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐲

Four years had passed since you and Vinnie had gone your separate ways, but the memories of your time together still lingered like ghosts from the past. You found yourself at a lavish Hollywood party, surrounded by the elite and celebrities, trying to navigate through the crowd with Matt Sturniolo, your new boyfriend. Matt was introducing you to various people, his hand possessively on your back as you made your way through the throng.

Amidst the glamorous chaos, you spotted a familiar face—the one you thought you'd never see again. Vinnie stood out among the Hollywood elite, his charismatic presence and undeniable good looks drawing attention wherever he went. He was surrounded by people, laughing at his jokes and eagerly listening to his stories. It was clear he was thriving in the industry.

As if sensing your gaze, Vinnie glanced up and briefly met your eyes. For a moment, time seemed to freeze as memories flooded your mind. But all too quickly, he tore his gaze away and continued chatting with his entourage, as if nothing had happened.

The room suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker, as your eyes met Vinnie's across the crowded party. The sight of him caught you off guard, a flood of memories and emotions surging through you.

For those few seconds, it was as if time had regressed, and you were back to all those moments you had shared together. But as quickly as the connection had been made, Vinnie looked away, leaving you bewildered and disoriented.

Matt's hand was on your waist, a subtle but possessive gesture that grounded you back in reality. However, you couldn't help but steal furtive glances at Vinnie.

You tried to focus on the conversations around you, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Vinnie. He was now fully engaged in another conversation, his laughter ringing out loudly across the room.

Matt's arm around your waist tightened slightly, as if sensing your distraction. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, "Everything okay, baby?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of possessiveness.

"I'm fine," you smiled at him as he led you across the crowd, introducing you to his friends. But then Matt brought you in front of Vinnie, and you had to muster all your strength to act as if this was your first time meeting. Your eyes locked onto Vinnie's, and you could see a flicker of recognition in his gaze, but he played along.

Vinnie's heart skipped a beat as Matt guided you towards him. He was acutely aware of your presence, the scent of your perfume bringing back a flood of memories. He hoped his poker face was holding up.

Once you were standing in front of him, Vinnie plastered on a casual smile, acting as if he hadn't recognized you. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, he felt as if the world around them had vanished.

"Hey, nice to meet you," Vinnie said smoothly, offering a polite smile and extending his hand for a handshake.

You politely declined Vinnie's handshake, keeping your hand firmly clasped with Matt's as he introduced you as his girlfriend. Vinnie glanced at your intertwined hands, a subtle flicker of disappointment crossing his face before he quickly masked it with a neutral expression.

The sight of you rejecting his handshake stung a little, but Vinnie kept his composure. The fact that you were there with another man, holding his hand and introducing yourself as his girlfriend, was like a dagger to his heart.

He tried not to let his disappointment show, but he couldn't help the pang of jealousy that coiled in his gut as he watched you and Matt together. He forced a nonchalant smile, pretending that your presence didn't affect him.

"Ah, got yourself a nice catch, Matt," Vinnie joked, his voice casual but his eyes betraying a hint of envy. He gave Matt's hand a firm shake before turning his attention to you. "Congratulations to you both."

Matt chuckled at Vinnie's compliment, appreciating his words. But Vinnie's eyes betrayed the true feelings lurking beneath his casual demeanor. He couldn't help but feel a pang of envy as he looked at you by Matt's side.

His gaze flicked back to you as he offered his congratulations, watching the way you interacted with Matt, noting the subtle touches and exchanged smiles between you two.

The conversation continued, but Vinnie found himself stealing glances at you whenever he could. The way you smiled at Matt, the way you held his hand, it all made him ache in a way he didn't expect.

He tried to engage in the conversation, to focus on what Matt was saying, but his mind kept wandering back to you. To the time when you were his, when he was the one making you smile and holding your hand.

Every so often, he would catch you looking at him, your gaze darting away just as quickly. Those brief moments of eye contact felt both exhilarating and painful. Vinnie tried to push down the rush of memories and emotions, to act nonchalant, but the more time passed, the harder it became.

The conversations around them continued, but Vinnie's thoughts were consumed by the what-ifs and the lingering memories of your relationship.

Matt turned to Vinnie and asked, "So, have you found yourself a special someone yet, Vinnie?"

Vinnie chuckled, a bit awkwardly, as Matt brought up the topic. He knew the question was coming, but he still didn't know how to respond. He glanced at you and Matt, trying to keep his expression casual.

"Nah, not yet," he replied, running a hand through his hair. "Haven't found the right one, I guess." He tried to sound nonchalant, but deep down, he knew exactly who he was thinking about when he said that.

"Ever did?" Matt asked.

"Once," Vinnie replied, his voice a little rougher than intended. His gaze involuntarily flitted over to you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he looked back at Matt. "But it didn't work out."

He knew he was giving away a piece of himself in that moment, but he couldn't help it.

"We had something special, but life took us down different paths. Sometimes, I wonder if what we had could've been something more."

"What happened?" Matt asked, as you looked away, clenching your hand tighter around Matt's.

Vinnie's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned back to Matt. The words came out of his mouth automatically, the emotions behind them still raw.

"We were young and ambitious," he said with a shrug, trying to sound indifferent. "We wanted different things from life, from our careers. And we grew apart. It was inevitable, really."

He could feel your eyes on him, even though he couldn't bring himself to look at you directly.

But deep down, Vinnie knew it wasn't that simple. There were a million reasons why you two had grown apart, a million moments where things could have gone differently. But the reality was that you had gone your separate ways.

He clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to confess everything that was going through his mind at that moment. To pour out his heart and lay bare all the feelings he still harbored for you.

"So, did you find what you were searching for, and did you ever see her again?" Matt asked.

Vinnie let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow to his own ears. "Yeah, I found success in my career, but that's about it. As for seeing her again..."

He couldn't help but glance at you again, his heart clenching as he took in the sight of you with Matt.

"No, I haven't," he said quietly. "Life has a way of keeping people apart, I guess..."

The conversation between Matt and Vinnie continued, but Vinnie's mind was elsewhere. He couldn't focus on the words being said; all he could think about was you.

His eyes kept returning to you, drawn like a magnet. He watched the way you smiled at Matt, the way you held his hand, and a pang of jealousy shot through him each time.

"It was nice chatting with you both," Vinnie said, his tone laced with a hint of sorrow mixed with acceptance. "Enjoy the party."

Matt nodded in agreement, expressing his parting greetings as well, and gently led you away to find a quieter spot for that much-needed breather. As you walked away, Vinnie found himself lost in his thoughts, unable to shake off the bittersweet memories of what once was. He took a deep breath and pushed the past aside, plastering a smile on his face as he turned back to the party, trying to revel in the present instead.

The rest of the evening passed by in a blur for Vinnie, his mind preoccupied with the unexpected encounter. Seeing you with another man stirred up a myriad of emotions within him, forcing him to confront the lingering feelings he still harbored deep down. He tried to engage in conversations and interactions, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you, the one who once loved him. As the party drew to a close, Vinnie felt a sense of relief mixed with a bittersweet tinge. He knew that seeing you tonight had only served to reopen old wounds. As he made his way out of the venue, he couldn't help but wonder if fate would ever bring the two of you together again.

Sitting on the steps in your black dress, you wondered what was taking Matt so long. He had told you to meet him outside, but he still hadn’t appeared. You contemplated whether you should go back into the party and search for him. As you waited for the boy you thought you loved, you realized this was the first time in a long while that you had some alone time.

You didn’t expect to see Vinnie today, let alone talk to him. It had been four years since you’d last seen him, and he still looked as handsome as ever. You tried to push the thought away, reminding yourself that you had a boyfriend—a good boyfriend, at least in front of everyone. But thinking about it, today marked your third fight just this week. Earlier, you had found out Matt was texting Madison Beer, a singer you were good friends with. You didn’t think Matt knew her too.

Even though you had your doubts, it wasn’t like he hadn’t had female friends in the past, and it wasn’t like you were completely honest about who your friends were either. On the surface, you and Matt appeared happy, but in reality, everything was crashing down around you. Things were going wrong in your relationship, and the passion and spark you once had for your acting career felt like they were being extinguished.

As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, you looked up from the steps. There he was, looking down at you—Vinnie, an old love. The sight of him sent a jolt through you, stirring up a mix of emotions you had buried long ago

"Hey," he greeted softly, his voice tinged with both warmth and hesitation. "Mind if I join you?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of that familiar voice, stirring up a mixture of emotions within you. The memories of what used to be flooded your mind as you looked up, seeing Vinnie standing there, looking down at you.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "Go ahead," you replied, a hint of bitterness in your voice. "It's not like my boyfriend is anywhere, and it's not like the spot's reserved."

Vinnie nodded, sensing the underlying resentment in your words. He took a seat next to you on the steps, keeping a polite distance as usual.

The silence between you grew heavy, filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. His gaze lingered on your face, taking in the familiar features he had once loved. "It's nice out here," he commented softly, before adding, "Not much of a party person, are you?"

"Never was, even with you," you replied, a wistful tone in your voice. "But neither were you."

Vinnie chuckled quietly, a hint of nostalgia in his expression. "Yeah, I guess you're right. We always preferred quieter company, didn't we?"

He paused, a beat of silence passing between you two. "I remember those nights we used to spend, just the two of us, talking away till sunrise."

"Yeah..." you said as forgotten memories washed all over you.

As the memories washed over him, Vinnie felt a pang of nostalgia in his chest. He missed those nights, those moments of closeness and understanding.

"I guess some things never change. Neither of us was meant for the Hollywood spotlight."

"I don't know about you, but I look great on the big screen," you said, trying to inject some lightness into the conversation.

Vinnie chuckled again, appreciating the attempt to lighten the mood. "Yeah, you certainly do. You shine brighter than any star in this town. It suits you. I always knew you were destined for greatness."

His words were sincere, free of any hint of sarcasm or irony. He knew it was a compliment you deserved, even if you now belonged to someone else.

"Even if it caused our relationship to end," you said quietly, your voice tinged with regret.

Vinnie's expression softened as he heard your words. Despite everything that had happened between you two, the regret in your voice tugged at his heartstrings.

He drew in a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It wasn't just your career that caused the end, you know that, right?"

"It still took a toll on our relationship, on both of us. We had different dreams, different paths. Sometimes, I wonder what would have been if we had chosen differently. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if we had ordinary jobs, like everyone else in the world," you added, a wistful tone in your voice.

Vinnie let out a bitter laugh, his gaze fixed on the night sky above.

"Ordinary jobs, huh? Sometimes, I think about that, too," he admitted, his voice laced with a hint of envy for that simpler life.

He turned to look at you, the light from the party casting a soft glow over your face.

"But we were never ordinary, were we?"

"I guess. But just imagine the two of us, living life without the fame and the busy schedules, it would've been simpler, but who knows, maybe things happen for a reason."

Vinnie sighed, the reality of your words sinking in.

"Maybe," he mumbled, his gaze drifting back up to the night sky. "Maybe life had a different plan for us."

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, lost in your thoughts. Then Vinnie spoke up again, breaking the quiet.

"Do you ever think about... us?"

"You mean what we would be doing instead of attending this party right now, like if we were to go back before the fame, like four years ago? Fighting over either Attack on Titan or Sailor Moon?" you mused.

Vinnie chuckled, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The mention of your old arguments brought back memories of lighter times, when the biggest fights you had were over anime preferences.

"Yeah, something like that," he responded, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. A beat of silence passed between you two before he spoke up again.

"Do... Do you ever wonder if being apart was the right decision? If things could have worked out differently if we had..." He trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air.

"Sometimes," you said softly, not entirely convinced. "Though I'm surprised there's no lovely woman by your side tonight."

Vinnie chuckled awkwardly, a hint of embarrassment crossing his features. "Ah, yeah... about that."

He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze.

"Dating scene's not exactly my thing," he admitted, a tinge of sheepishness in his voice. "I'm too focused on my career, I suppose."

He glanced at you, a trace of vulnerability in his eyes. "Not like you, with your Matt."

"You could have any woman you want, Vin," you joked, feigning confidence. "But I guess you're always just waiting for the right one to come along. Someone who appreciates the real you, not just the celebrity persona."

Vinnie's expression softened as he observed you, the playful tone in your voice hinting at insecurity beneath.

"That's what everyone says," he replied, a sad smile on his face. "But finding someone who really gets you, it's not as easy as it sounds."

He paused for a moment, his eyes searching your face. "You... you seem happy with him."

The words were a statement rather than a question, as if the truth was evident in the way you spoke about Matt.

"You mean the anime nerd behind all that mystery," you teased, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

A genuine smile spread across his face at your words. He couldn't help but be charmed by your ability to bring out the lighter side of him, even in moments like this.

"Yeah, that anime nerd," he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "The one who could argue for hours about which anime character could beat up the other."

Vinnie grinned wider, his eyes lighting up as the nostalgia washed over him. "Yeah, those endless debates over which anime is the best," he mused. "You and your love for Sailor Moon, and me passionately defending Attack on Titan. It was always a tie between us, wasn't it?"

"I don’t know, I feel like I won most of those rounds," you said with a playful challenge.

Vinnie chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Ah, so you're still claiming victory, huh? Typical," he teased, raising an eyebrow at your declaration. "I seem to recall a few decisive wins on my end, but I guess our memory is selective when it benefits us."

Vinnie chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief. "Maybe you won a few, but I still hold my ground that Attack on Titan is the superior anime," he quipped, a hint of a challenge in his voice. "I mean, come on, the story, the characters, the action – it's just unbeatable!"

"Come on, like you didn't drool over Captain Levi every time he was on the screen," Vinnie teased.

"Levi Ackerman, huh? Can't blame me there," you admitted, a playful shrug. "He's a hot badass, for sure. But let's be real, even he couldn't steal me away from you."

Vinnie's heart skipped a beat when you mentioned Levi. He couldn't deny the attractiveness of the character, but there was something about the way you talked about Levi that made a pang of jealousy flare up within him.

He chuckled, trying to brush off the feeling with a light-hearted remark. "Ah yes, the infamous Levi Ackerman. The heartthrob of the anime world. But let's not forget who gave you those endless debates and sleepless nights, arguing about the pros and cons of Titan shifting versus magical girl transformations."

"You still jealous?"

Vinnie's eyes widened slightly at your comment. Caught off guard, he attempted to play it cool, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Jealous? Pfft, me? Come on, who do you think I am?" he replied, trying to mask the truth with a casual laugh.

But deep down, he couldn't deny the pang of jealousy that tugged at his heart when you spoke so affectionately about Levi.

The light-hearted mood shifted suddenly as Matt's voice interjected, "Steal who from who?" cutting through the conversation like a gust of cold wind. Vinnie turned to face Matt, a flicker of surprise crossing his features.

"Baby, what took you so long?" you asked Matt, kissing him on the cheek as he pulled you closer to him.

Matt's presence was an unwelcome intrusion on the conversation between you and Vinnie. Vinnie's gaze shifted to Matt, taking in the sight of him holding you close. The pang of jealousy he felt earlier intensified, but he tried to mask it with a polite smile.

"Ah, you know how it is," Matt replied, wrapping an arm possessively around your waist. "Just got caught up in some party chit-chat. But I'm here now."

Vinnie watched as you kissed Matt, a whirlwind of emotions stirring within him. He forced a strained smile, his eyes betraying a hint of jealousy and longing hidden beneath the surface.

"So, what were you talking about?" Matt asked.

Vinnie tried to collect himself, composing his expression as best as possible. "Oh, we were just reminiscing about the old days," he said, his voice strained. "Back when we used to have those arguments about anime."

He couldn't help but steal a glance in your direction, taking in the sight of you wrapped in Matt's embrace. The pang of jealousy flared up inside him once more, making his heart ache.

"Reminiscing about the old days," Matt said. "Didn't know you knew my girlfriend so well, hacker."

Vinnie's irritation flared up at Matt's casual comment. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his cool, but the jealousy was eating away at him.

"Ah, well, we go way back," he retorted, a forced smile on his face. "Used to be pretty close, her and I. Before..." he trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

"Before?" Matt asked, his tone more curious than confrontational.

"Before we graduated high school," you interjected, looking at Vinnie in a pleading way. He could see you hadn't gotten to tell Matt about your relationship.

Matt looked confused, still remembering that you went to a girls-only school. He didn't say a thing, but his confused and we-will-talk-about-it-later look, even though brief, was noticeable to you.

Vinnie caught the pleading look in your eyes, realizing the unspoken plea to keep quiet about your past relationship. He clenched his jaw, biting back the words that almost slipped out.

"Yeah, before high school," he repeated, his voice strained. "Just lost touch after graduation, y'know how it is."

"So, how's the industry treating you, Matt? Any exciting projects coming up?" Vinnie asked, changing the subject.

Matt launched into a detailed explanation about his YouTube channel and the one he shared with his triplet brothers, Nick and Chris, who appeared behind him. Chris gave you a pat on the shoulder, commenting on how lit the party was, joking that you'd be his sister-in-law soon if you kept up your relationship with his brother.

Vinnie's smile grew more strained as Chris appeared out of nowhere, adding to the tension in the air. He watched as he joked about your future with Matt, and it took every ounce of self-control not to react.

He politely feigned interest in Matt's YouTube projects, desperately trying to keep his composure as the conversation continued.

"Ah, the YouTube scene can be hectic," Matt chuckled, launching into a detailed explanation about the projects he had in mind. But Vinnie's mind was elsewhere, his focus drifting toward your side of the conversation.

He could see the discomfort on your face when Chris joked about your future with Matt. It was subtle, but he knew you well enough to pick up on it.

Matt turned his head to you and Chris as he heard his comment and whispered, "Maybe one day, my love," kissing your cheek. But all you could think of at that moment was Vinnie as he stared at you. Matt's comment brought back memories for both of you, as "my love" was Vinnie's favorite nickname for you.

You remembered the first time he called you that name, back in high school. The wind was blowing hard, and the flowers had bloomed even though it was the first day of spring. You were supposed to meet at the botanical gardens for your first official date. As you tried to find where he was, a soft, comforting voice said, "Hi," tapping your shoulder and causing you to turn around. Before any word could come out of your mouth, he picked a leaf that had gotten stuck in your hair and spoke gently, "I think something got stuck in your hair, love." That was the first time anyone had called you that, and at that time, you really believed he would be the only one calling you it. Snapping out of your thoughts, you smiled softly at Matt to reassure him. Vinnie interrupted the moment, reminding Matt they were in the middle of a conversation.

As Matt called you "my love," Vinnie couldn't help but feel a mixture of jealousy and wistfulness. The memories of the past flooded back into his mind, reminding him of the nickname he used to use for you.

He watched as you smiled softly at Matt, and it took all his willpower to keep his expression neutral. Sensing his discomfort, Vinnie decided to interrupt the moment, clearing his throat and refocusing the conversation on Matt's projects.

"Back to your YouTube plans," Vinnie said, his voice steady. "You mentioned some exciting projects. Care to share more details?"

Matt proceeded to give a detailed explanation of the projects he had in mind, but Vinnie's attention was divided. He listened intently, trying to focus on Matt's words, but his eyes kept straying towards you, watching your every expression.

Matt's words seemed to drone on in the background as Vinnie's mind wandered. His thoughts were consumed by you and the memories he shared with you. But he knew he had to keep up the facade of polite interest for the sake of the conversation.

He nodded and mumbled occasional words of agreement, trying to look invested in Matt's projects, but his heart wasn't in it.

"That's great to hear, man. I hope your channel keeps growing. You've got a long road ahead of you," Vinnie responded, his voice neutral despite the emotional turmoil roiling inside him. He tried to focus on the conversation, asking questions and engaging in small talk, but his thoughts kept circling back to you, the one who once loved him. As the conversation continued, Vinnie began to feel increasingly out of place, his presence becoming more of a hindrance than anything.

His mind raced, weighing the options for escape. Glancing around, he subtly scanned for a way out. Seeing an opportunity, Vinnie excused himself abruptly, offering a hasty excuse about finding the restroom or chatting with his manager—anything to leave this awkwardly tense situation.

"Excuse me for a moment, I need to freshen up," he stated, his voice as neutral as possible. Before anyone could protest, he turned and briskly made his way through the crowd, his mind focused on finding a quiet spot outside to regroup.

"Take care, Vin," you said as Vinnie passed by you once again.

Vinnie froze for a moment as you called out his name. The sound of your voice sent a jolt through him, making his heart ache with nostalgia and regret. He forced a half-genuine smile, turning to look at you, as it was the second time you had said goodbye to him.

"Yeah, you too," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

With that, he forced himself to walk away, pushing through the crowd of party-goers to find a quiet refuge outside.

[unformula1]

i’ll never forget you (LS2 x OP81)

the voices get stronger. w/c: 787 day 22 of LOSCAR POSTS until we get a LOSCAR PODIUM (series masterlist) masterlist part 2 of "changed"

It all came crashing down, falling apart at the seams. Thunder came rumbling and the dark days settled in.

Logan can’t believe it, everything doesn’t make sense. He wants to convince himself he’s in a nightmare and he’d wake up for everything to be okay again. He wants to go back to where everything was alright and it all made sense for him.

How did him and Oscar go from deep late night talks to one-sided stolen glances? Logan can’t believe how much things have changed and he doesn’t want to believe things have changed this much.

He wants it all to go back to normal and for Oscar to smile at him again.

-----

Logan sits down in his driver’s room, leaning against the hard walls. It’s just him and his thoughts. They’re haunting, to say the least.

He racks his brain trying to figure out where it all went wrong and what he did wrong for Oscar to not even acknowledge him.

“Hi.” Logan says, raising his hand slightly to wave.

“Hello Logan.” Oscar says as he pats Logan on the shoulder, “How have you been?”

“Alright. I saw your lap time, was pretty good, huh.” Logan says, trying to sound less awkward.

“Yea,” Oscar says as he chuckles slightly, “I saw your driving style today, I see you tried something different yea?”

“Mhm…” 

Logan is about to continue before Lando slots himself into their conversation.

“Hi fellas!” Lando says energetically.

“Hey Lando.” Oscar says as Lando sets himself in between Logan and Oscar.

Oscar eventually turns his focus to Lando which effectively cuts Logan off from the conversation.

Logan subtly excuses himself and slides back to Alex’s side since it’s pretty much the only way he won’t be excluded at this point.

Right…

He hates remembering that moment. The crystal clear, shiny, diamond-like memory that resurfaces every single time he feels left out. 

Because he isn’t the first choice when it comes to Oscar, he isn’t anymore. Sure he used to be the first choice but not anymore, he got replaced quickly with someone even better, with someone Logan couldn’t even be half of.

Lando Norris.

He doesn’t hate Lando, he can’t but it stings hard every single time he remembers Oscar choosing Lando over him.

Logan: are you free tomorrow night or something? for our monthly meetup :) Oscar: mate i’m sorry lando and i have something up Logan: oh it’s okay Oscar: we can schedule something next month alright Logan: okay

It strikes like a dagger to the chest, twisting with every second moving forward.

Logan sits on the bench in his drivers room, fiddling with his shirt before picking up his phone and opening Instagram. 

And as if he couldn’t have any good moments, the first video that pops up is a McLaren video. Specifically the McLaren video he saw Oscar and Lando filming.

He reloads the page instantly and closes the app.

His hands clutch tightly onto his phone as he feels his stomach tie itself into a knot. 

He doesn’t know what consumes him but something makes him open his messages and scroll down to Oscar’s contact. He glances at it for a few seconds before clicking onto it.

The last message was aeons ago. He doesn’t know what he intends to do with this but he stares at it blankly.

His fingers hover over the keyboard, but he doesn’t type anything. 

He scrolls up, all the way up to their old messages. Their happier days.

His phone lags slightly from loading all the messages but he eventually gets to those days where they messages hourly, updating each other on the most irrelevant things that happened to them.

He never thought it would end.

But here he was, crying in his driver’s room reminiscing about those days.

A tear drops onto his phone screen and he wipes it off quickly but it leaves a stain. A stain on the phone screen, a stain over the words “never” in the text message “I’ll never forget you”

I’ll forget you.

It’s like the universe’s largest sign thrown onto Logan’s face.

He can’t do this any longer. He breaks out into sobs. He hates his life right now.

He sends a punch into the bench’s cushions and cries even more.

The voices in his head repeat how he’s a failure, an outcast, a disappointment. They replay flashbacks of Logan and Oscar’s relationship falling apart, like a sick horror film on repeat. They shout endlessly into Logan’s ears about how he messed up and it’s his fault.

There’s a reason Oscar doesn’t talk to you anymore.

Everyone hates you to their guts, everyone.

You are a disappointment.

People don’t like you.

You’re an outcast.

Failure.

[hrefna-the-raven]

Cat and mouse

Masterlist - BG3 masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4

Words: 930

Summary: you try to win that game of cat and mouse you're playing with Raphael

Warnings: smut mention, kind of, no real smut, not yet 😇

"We delivered the devil, now I want what I'm owed! We had a deal!", Astarion snapped, the tone of his voice cracking ever so slightly at the shock the newly found information provided.

"Indeed we did. I discovered all there is to know about those scars. It's a rather grim tale, even for my taste", Raphael chuckled, "but what can I say? Dear old father has a taste for drama."

"Yeah I wonder who else does?", you muttered passing them, not even bothering to look at the devil as you made your way towards the river not far away from your campside.

The argument between the devil and the vampire subsided the further you got away and a sense of relief washed over you as the only sounds that filled the air were the gentle flow of the river and the soft chirping of crickets. Outwardly, you tried to maintain an air of indifference towards Raphael, but internally, a tumultuous battle of emotions raged within you. From the very moment you first encountered the devil, there was a faint connection, something special that lingered in the shadows of your mind, silently intertwining with the unknown threads of fate.

You undressed and entered the water, feeling a shiver run through your body as the coldness brushed against your skin. Inhaling deeply, you descended into the depths, enveloped by the serene silence of the currents, finding solace as your restless thoughts gradually eased. Time was elusive beneath the surface; it could have been a minute, two, or an eternity as it seemed, until an ominous feeling of peril slowly crawled up your spine, compelling you to resurface once more.

A gasp escaped your lips as you suddenly found yourself face to face with Raphael's naked human form, his eyes, a deep, mesmerizing shade of brown, locked on yours. The two of you were suspended in the water, locked in a moment of tension and hidden desire.

"Are you aware that cats usually despise water?", he asked, his voice low and seductive.

"Then perhaps this cat must be very tempted to catch the mouse", you shrugged, attempting to sound nonchalant and unaffected.

"A real temptress this mouse is and very... elusive", he chuckled softly, his breath caressing your skin as he inched closer, "you've been trying to ignore me."

"And you've been keeping secrets from me", you turned away, attempting to conceal the heat that was spreading across your cheeks upon realising the growing intimacy between the two of you.

You sensed a ripple in the water, causing the hairs on your neck to stand on end as if a scorching breath brushed against your skin.

But as you turned around, splashing water where the devil had been, you realised that he had vanished. A quivering breath escaped your lips and just as your heartbeat calmed down, something seized your foot and forcefully dragged you beneath the water's surface.

In a panic, you tried let out a piercing scream that morphed into a cluster of bubbles and you kicked in all directions, desperately fighting to resurface. Eventually, you emerged from the depths of the water, gasping for air. Your eyes darted around, attempting to make sense of what had just occurred. Still in a state of shock, your realised that you were no longer in the river. Instead, you found yourself confined again within that same room with its walls adorned in crimson hues and the opulent bed, this time pinned in the pool under Raphael's bare demonic figure. He leered down at you, his eyes flickering with an insatiable hunger and desire.

"My little mouse", he whispered into your ear, gently grazing his teeth along your neck, eliciting a suppressed moan that you fought to hold back.

In a desperate attempt to create some distance, you placed your hand on his chest, only to find your efforts futile.

"My cat", you swallowed nervously, "I propose a... deal."

Raphael raised an eyebrow, surprised by your sudden choice of words.

"A deal? How intriguing", his husky voice sending shivers down your spine.

"You'll tell me the complete truth about your feelings towards me", your fingers trailed down his chest in a newly found burst of confidence.

"And what do I get in return?", he half moaned, his growing desire evident.

This was a perilous game he found himself playing. If he wasn't careful, he would be ensnared by you instead of the other way around. Whatever enchantment you held over him was becoming increasingly difficult to resist.

"The chase ends once and for all", you wrapped your fingers around his hard length.

A primal sound emanated from the depths of the cambion's chest as he pressed his face against your neck, his hips instinctively moving to seek more of your captivating caress. It was at this precise moment that you realised you had him, despite any attempts he may make to cheat his way out this deal, his response spoke volumes, confirming the lingering doubt that had haunted you since the encounter at the mausoleum.

"So, do we have a deal, devil?", you leaned against his warm cheek.

The words slipped from your lips, a soft whisper while your hand kept stroking his cock. Raphael raised his head, his black pupils dilated with an intense longing. His lips crashed onto yours, submerging you beneath the water's surface, his weight pressing down upon you.

But just as suddenly as it began, it ceased. The sensation of his scorching skin against yours vanished, and you found yourself back in the river near the camp.

"Foul creature," you muttered quietly, attempting to push aside the pulsating heat between your thighs.

[regretmedaisy]

i can see you - tom riddle x fmc/reader

part I

loosely inspired by "i can see you" by taylor swift.

“I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it”

summary: She had always fancied Tom Riddle. It was an infatuation that bordered on love and obsession, that she had secretly grown and cared for, content with indulging in her fantasies and never bold enough to try and make them become reality.

When she meets him again in her adulthood, dormant longings resurface together with a newfound desire to be the object of his own devotion.

As their paths keep crossing, she starts to think he feels the same.

tags: afab mc, use of female pronouns and no descriptors (i tagged it as x reader because i guess it could be read as such if you use the same pronouns), somewhat period-accurate clothing, courtship (just a little because it's still tom riddle), fmc has a crush on tom, very light foreplay (fem!receiving, clothes stay on), a bit of fluff, explicit sexual desire, mention of masturbation.

please note that mc has a crush on tom, therefore the way she refers to him could sound a bit cheesy and exaggerated. i edited this last night and didn't read it again before posting. i'm sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes i missed.

words: 5.9K

More smut in part II

Part I: You brush past me in the hallway

She couldn’t recall when her obsession with Tom Riddle had started. Perhaps she had always felt that way.

She thought about him as she got ready for school, walked to breakfast or sat in the Great Hall to study, her heart fluttering every time his eyes wandered in her direction. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually looking at her - the fantasy was enough.

She felt herself blushing every time he walked past her in the corridors, her gaze sometimes daring, sometimes hesitant, careful not to look at him for too long in case he realised her feelings, but enough to not come off as completely indifferent. Just in case he felt the same.

She had become an ever-present shadow, one he could have moulded into whatever he desidered, as her heart, easily-fooled by an irresistible pretence that had shaped her passion and longing, didn’t know any other affection.

She ignored everything there was to know about him, as he only existed in her fantasy, beautiful and clever and mesmerising. She started following him everywhere: watching him as he sat reading in the courtyard, getting detention when he was the one supervising. 

They had once talked and he had smiled at her. Oh, what a moment that had been. She had laid in bed, her face in the pillow, giggling as her roommates asked her what had happened.

But she had never wanted him to know. She liked to dream about him but never expected him to make those dreams come true.

After they graduated school, she felt empty. Her fantasies were vacant of their predominant character and she had spent a few nights crying about never seeing him again, although she didn’t like to wander in that part of her memories that much.

Then, through a series of coincidences she liked to think were fate’s doing, she had gotten a job at the post office. 

She had been on her way to deliver a missive to Flourish and Blotts - a favour she did to the old owner - when he had walked past her.

Time had stopped.

She couldn’t hear or feel anything. Not the wind brushing through her hair and cooling her cheeks nor the jumbled chatter of the street. Everything was muted and still, except for him.

He was dressed in a tasteful black suit, his jacket buttoned, and his stride was long and confident. He stopped in front of the newspaper rack, picked one up, paid and left without a glance to her or anyone else. 

It was only when he had disappeared down the street that she had snapped out of it, realising she had been crumpling the letter in her hands.

Back in the office, she had discreetly asked Will - who had been working there longer than her - about him. He was almost certain Tom had been working in Knockturn Alley for a while and an errand in that part of the city had confirmed his presumption. 

The next day, as she was trying not to shout at a customer that if he wanted his package delivered to France in one day he could’ve delivered it himself, she had seen him walk by through the glass door.

And the next day as she was busy sorting through the deliveries.

And the next one again.

On the fourth day, she had taken her break around the time she had calculated he was going to pass by. She had to suppress her giddiness when she saw him.

Since then, she duly waited for him as he punctually went to buy his newspaper. 

“Isn’t it a bit cold to be outside voluntarily?” Will asked one day, standing up from his seat to return to the storage room as she went back inside. She hung her coat and scarf, fixing the collar of her jumper.

“I like the fresh air.” She sat down at her desk, getting back to her tasks. It had been an unexpectedly slow morning, leaving her time to write the report she usually needed to cram between customers. 

She leaned back against her chair, absent-mindedly twirling her quill between her fingers as her mind went back to the same subject that had filled her younger years.

Since that fortunate day of September, her infatuation with Tom Riddle had returned to burn like a wildfire, but it had also felt different. It wasn’t the childish crush of a teenager anymore, unbridled in her fantasies and hesitant in her action. It was a different type of fixation, more subdued, more restrained, perhaps more mature. He felt familiar and new at the same time, and she was content with watching him, appeased by his mere existence.

But lately she had felt the compelling need to to draw closer, to enter his orbit without actually being pulled in by it.

Those were desires she succumbed to during other times of the day. 

She anxiously drummed her fingers on the desk, her eyes urgently checking the clock as the man in front of her couldn’t bother to fill out his form. If she wasn’t going to do it today she wasn’t sure when she’ll find the courage again.

She hurriedly signed it as he handed it over and retrieved her coat.

“I’m going on break!” She didn’t even wait for Will to answer before stepping out in the street. 

She could feel her heart beating in her chest as she walked, her heels clattering on the cobblestones. Perhaps high heels weren’t a good idea, her legs felt less steady than she had anticipated. She adjusted the silk scarf around her neck and smoothed a hand over her curls as she went straight to the magazine rack.

Alright, she needed to stay calm and look relaxed. Nothing of importance was happening. She was just there to buy a magazine. 

She browsed through a few, incapable of actively reading the headlines since her mental capacity was too occupied waiting with him.

Minutes passed inexorably, her tension growing imposing until it exploded into a million butterflies the moment she noticed him. She didn’t turn, instead subtly moving in front of the stand where they sold his newspaper, pretending to skim, deep in thought. 

She could hear him walking closer until he was right next to her.

He was wearing his coat, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched to read the headlines. His presence was impossible to miss and became even more breathtaking when he scooted closer to her, his arm stretching out to grab a newspaper right in front of her. His side brushed against her arm and she couldn’t stop herself from taking in all she could. His scent, his warmth, the mere occasion of being so close to him. 

Her eyes moved to find his of their own volition. His expression was slightly surprised, like he wasn’t expecting her to consider him. He held her gaze for a second, his blue eyes glinting in her morning light, lively like she had only occasionally seen them.

He pressed his lips together and nodded to her in greeting, folding the newspaper under his arm before entering the store to pay.

She was breathless. The wind had picked up, biting against her cheeks that she knew must have turned flush. She forced herself to divert her attention, deciding on a crossword magazine just as he left the store. 

“Five letters, it starts with an S,” she read, “It can be found at Hogwarts.”

“Stars?” Will attempted, his voice muffled from the thud of some boxes he was moving.

It had been a few weeks since her last encounter (if it could be called that) with Tom. Since then, once a week she would dress more attentively and get to Flourish and Blotts in time to wait for him. She would choose a different magazine or newspaper every time, although crosswords were her favourite to waste her time between customers. 

She had come to the conclusion that one trip a week was enough to satisfy her persistent yearning without drawing too much attention to herself. The rest of the week she spent her break outside, unperturbed by the changing of the seasons and the chilly weather.

“Yes, because stars are a prerogative of Hogwarts,” she jested. She could hear Will grumble something through the open door that separated them.

“I think it’s ‘Squid’,” she said triumphantly, writing the word down. She held up the paper like she was reading it for an entire audience. “Next, it tells you the truth you might not want to hear. Eight letters.”

“Veritaserum!” Will enthusiastically suggested.

“That’s eleven letters. Honestly, did you even go to school?” It was like this every time, he would just throw out the first thing that came to mind. It was still funny, though. 

“Honesty maybe? No, it’s seven letters. Let me get the dictionary.”

Sometimes she wondered how he had managed to run the office alone until they had hired her.

“Synonyms with eight letters, let’s see.” She could hear him quickly turning the pages. Why did he have a dictionary in there she could not say.

“I don’t think it’s an-” She lifted her gaze as the doorbell chimed and her sentence got cut off by a sudden rush of heat that didn’t allow her to think clearly for a few seconds.

Tom Riddle crossed the threshold. He took off his leather gloves and turned down the collar of his jacket.

She was embarrassingly wide-eyed as he approached her desk.

“Hello,” he said.

She blinked a few times, trying to remember the customs of the society she got raised in. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” She gave him her usual bright customer service smile. Thank Merlin habits were stronger than feelings.

“I have a letter to post.” He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out an envelope.

“Sure,” she said, her tone professional and experienced. “Just fill out this form, please.”

She offered him a quill and her eyes lowered on his long slender fingers as he skillfully gripped it. She could have watched him write all day, but instead pretended to be busy sorting through a cabinet.

Will came out of the backroom, holding his beloved dictionary. He gave Tom a tight cordial smile and set the dictionary in front of her, pointing to a specific word. “Morality”. 

She glanced quickly at Tom before focusing on Will.

“What does that have to do with the truth?” Her tone was an aggravated whisper. 

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but it has eight letters,” he whispered back. She held in the laugh that threatened to escape her as she looked at him. 

She gestured for him to leave before Tom reported them as unprofessional and turned to him as he handed her the signed papers.

“Thank you.” Why did her voice suddenly sound so shrilly? She cleared her throat, trying to regain some dignity.

She checked the address and noticed it was in England. “It will be dispatched with the afternoon owls and will probably reach your addressee by tomorrow.” She was not required to give him this information, but she just wanted to keep him there a little longer.

He nodded and smiled warmly at her. Butterflies bloomed again like flowers. “Perfect, thank you.”

“Have a good day,” she said. 

“You too.” He turned but then halted, like he had just changed his mind about something. “It's ‘Prophecy’ by the way.”

She frowned, confused on what he meant, until she remembered the crossword. “Oh, thank you.”

She watched him open the door and leave. And then watched him some more through the window as he returned to Knockturn Alley, something warm diffusing through her.

“I knew it!” Will's exultant voice broke her reverie.

She whipped her head around. “What?” By the way he was looking at her, his eyes gleaming like they had just witnessed the most engaging of gossip, she could guess exactly what he was talking about.

“When you asked all those questions I thought nothing of it, but you spend all your breaks outside, and it’s so windy in this part of Diagon Alley! I knew there was a reason. Especially after you started coming to work looking very lovely.”

“So, since I care about my look and spend my break outside, you deduced that…what exactly?

He leaned against the doors with his arms crossed and raised an eyebrow. His expression was so self-assured she knew she couldn’t deny her way out.

“Are you telling me you don’t fancy Tom Riddle? Because if I liked men I would definitely fancy him.”

“Don’t even start,” she sighed, covering her face.

If someone had told her years ago what would have happened in the next few weeks, she would have thought they had more imagination than her.

Aside from Will forcing her to buy another crossword, since the one she had chosen was part of some sort of divination conspiracy - his words.

“What does it have to do with the ‘truth you don’t want to hear’?” he had said. “Divination is just a scam, let me tell you.”

Tom had been coming and going from the post office. The response to his letter had arrived three days later and he had personally showed up to collect it.

She had always assumed that Riddle and the people he corresponded with had their own owl, but perhaps she had mistakenly presumed who he was exchanging letters with.

In school she had often dreamt of receiving a letter or a simple note from him, something to keep next to her bed and occasionally reread, wishing for things she didn’t have the courage to take for herself.

An insidious thought had crept into her mind after the first letter, instigating jealous feelings she had never felt. In school he had never shown interest in romantic liaisons, but his intentions could have changed since then.

The morning after, checking who he had sent the letter to was the first thing she had done once she had stepped into the office, professionalism be damned.

It was now a gloomy day, kept bearable by the prospect of talking to him.

“Good morning,” he greeted her as came in half an hour later, closing his umbrella and leaving it by the entrance. The sound of pounding rainfall on the street filled the silence. His coat was dampened around the sleeves and shoulders and his curls fell haphazardly on his forehead. “I believe you have something for me.”

She smiled at him. “Let me just get your letter, I think it arrived today.” She got up and reached for one of the shelves next to her. She knew he was coming today, so she had worn her nicest pair of work heels and a flattering skirt. Her curls had also turned out prettier than usual.

She perused the envelopes but didn’t find any addressed to him.

In the backroom, Will was reading a book with his legs crossed on the table. She searched through the newest delivery but couldn’t find it.

“Where is the letter?” she asked under her breath.

Will lifted his eyes from the page and adjusted his glasses. “What letter?”

“His letter, Will,” she hissed. “I saw it earlier.”

“If it isn’t there I don’t know what to tell you. Perhaps he switched up the dates.”

He noticed her accusatory expression and prudently held up his hands. “I’ll send a note to see if the owl got lost. Will that help you relax?”

Her features distended. “Yes, thank you. I’ll tell him to come by later.” 

“Did you ask if he wants tea as well?” 

She rolled her eyes laughing, relieved he wasn’t mad at her - she was feeling guilty for her unfair distrust - and went back to Tom, who was flipping through a brochure.

She threw him an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid we had some troubles with the owl carrying your missive.” 

She couldn’t read his face as he listened to her.

“It’s fine, I’ll return before you close.” He grabbed his umbrella, completely unperturbed.

“We are really sorry,” she said, resisting the urge to start chipping away her nail polish.

His eyes bore into her. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault.”

Lightning struck in that same moment, a blast of wind slamming against the windows as thunder made her swallow her redundant apologies.

“Let’s hope it will stop raining by then,” she mumbled more to herself, watching the raindrops fall quickly and heavily.

After lunch, Will brought her the envelope she had been desperately looking for. The paper was surprisingly pristine, not even a drop of water or a crease on it.

“It just arrived,” he announced with a wink.

“You’re telling me an owl flew with this rain?”

“I always told you I believe those animals have superpowers.” He shrugged and returned to his duties.

She stacked it on top of a pile of papers, smiling involuntary. She was embarrassed by herself.

An hour later, Will stepped out of the office with his coat and scarf on. 

“I’m leaving for today. Do you want me to wait for you?” he asked. Rain was still pounding on the glass. 

“You can go. Hopefully it will stop.” He nodded, retrieved his umbrella and disappeared among the flock of passersby. 

She glanced at the clock, wishing time could just run faster so that she could go home. The light had dimmed over the afternoon, engulfing the office in a dull atmosphere with drowsy undertones. She was drawing a flower on a piece of parchment when the bell chimed. She already knew who it was.

He gave her a small smile and her heart fluttered. 

“Here it is. The poor owl lost his way in this storm,” she said, holding his letter. He grabbed it and signed the usual form. 

"Are you always this accommodating?" he asked casually.

She felt her cheeks heat at the question as she cleared her desk. "It's my job."

"Do you live far from here?" 

She faltered as she was reaching for her coat and cleared her throat. 

"Why do you ask?" She followed his gaze to the empty umbrella stand. 

"Oh."

“I don’t mind escorting you home, if you’d like,” he said promptly. 

Was this actually happening? She was sure she had fantasised about something like this once. 

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” This was what she was supposed to say, right? 

“I insist.”

She surely wasn’t going to let him change his mind. 

“Alright, then.” She smiled coyly as he took her coat from her hands and helped her with it. His hands brushed on her arms in a gesture that was oddly intimate in the fading light of the office. He opened the door for her and waited for her to lock it. 

Around them people hurried to get to their destination, but she was in no rush. He offered her his arm and she took it, a little out of breath. She hid her hand in the crook of his elbow, hoping it would not betray her nervousness and gently guided him in the right direction.

“How was your day?” he asked after a few steps, just as nonchalantly as before.

“It was good, perhaps a little boring.”

“Do you enjoy working at the post office?” He turned his head, watching her with those rich eyes of his.

She shrugged lightly. “It’s better than other jobs, and I like my colleague.”

“I met him the other day. You weren’t there when I went to post my letter,” he explained in response to her surprised look.

“Oh yes, it was my free afternoon.” She couldn’t believe Will hadn’t told her about this.

Tom nodded as if it was a fact he wanted to remember.

“Do you like your job?” she asked, greedy for anything he wanted to share with her.

“It might seem strange but I do.”

“Where do you work exactly?” Not even Will had been able to tell her what it was that he did.

“Borgin and Burkes.”

“The antique shop?”

He chuckled. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

She mirrored his grin. “How would you describe it?”

“You can call it that if you’re into cursed music boxes and a wide selection of skulls.”

“Perhaps I am,” she replied foxily. “I’ll come and take a look one day.”

“Are you?” The inflection in his voice told her he didn’t quite believe her.

“You don’t really know me, Tom.” 

As her words were met with silence, she turned to him. She had never seen him look at her like that, his lips slightly curved and his eyes glinting with intrigue.

“So I gather Diagon Alley wasn’t in your ambitions?” he asked after a while. He must have seen her discomfort at his question because he immediately apologised.

“Don’t, please.” She put her free hand on his arm before registering what she was doing and he followed her motion as she composedly dropped it. 

“You’re right,” she said with a sigh, averting her eyes. “I don’t know what I expected from the future.”

“But?”

“But I suppose it could be worse.” That’s it, that’s all she had to say. No big dream everyone required her to have.

“You could make it better, you have endless possibilities to choose from.” He sounded so sure, but of course he was. He had the world in his palm and he could change the course of existence at every moment.

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think that’s true.” 

She steered him to the right to cross the street. They were now out of Diagon Alley, walking through the small inhabited island that separated Muggle London from the commercial area. He rested his arm on her back and respectfully pushed her away from the street, switching their places. She pretended it didn’t affect her.

“You could have had any job after graduation,” she pointed out. 

“I chose the one that I believed would give me more benefits.” 

“Did you choose correctly?”

He smirked. “I did.”

She wanted to ask more but didn’t dare and a comfortable silence fell between them.

She noticed Tom was extremely careful and observant. He tilted the umbrella to the perfect angle to shield her completely and moved to the side every time she needed to sidestep a puddle.

It was the first time she had had the opportunity to be close enough to him. His arm was firm and she could sense his warmth through the layers of his clothes. She thought of how good it would have felt to nestle against him.

It felt like something it wasn’t, an intimate routine, and she soaked in the moment. His body heat, the coarse wool of his coat against her hand, his soft breath, the pumping of her enamoured heart, the swaying movement of their figures as they walked, the raindrops hitting the asphalt.

She wanted to drown in it.

“We are almost there,” she announced, sadly noticing they were nearing her neighbourhood. 

“Do you live alone?” 

She nodded. “I used to have a roommate but then I moved to a smaller apartment. I enjoyed the quiet more.”

“I suppose you don’t have a lot of guests, then.”

“Will comes for lunch sometimes, he’s also alone.”

“And your other friends?” 

She hid her surprise at his question. She didn’t expect him to remember any details about her. 

“I hardly see them nowadays, we kinda lost touch over the years.” There was a soreness that couldn’t quite go away everytime she thought of the companions she drifted away from. No matter how hard she had tried to fight against the currents, there had been an insurmountable wave between them. Everyone said it inevitably happened with age, but no one ever talked about the solitude that it brought with it.

His finger grazed against her wrist, capturing her attention.

“Being alone isn’t always a curse,” he murmured.

“Are you alone?” She couldn’t remember a day when he wasn’t surrounded by his friends or admirers. She had always considered he enjoyed the attention of people hanging from his lips, but perhaps she had judged him wrongly. “Or do you still see your friend sometimes?”

His expression was clever as he answered. “The two things can coexist.”

She looked at him, ardently wishing she could figure him out. It was her torment, never quite managing to step into his field of attraction long enough to decode him, forever relegated to a bystander. Why was he telling her that? Why was he there with her? 

His profound eyes searched for something and the idea of being just as incomprehensible to him made her shiver. 

"Are you cold?" he asked.

She fiddled with the sleeve of her coat. "I'm fine. We are almost there." 

They walked the last few metres to her front door and stopped in front of a set of stairs. 

"Thank you for accompanying me." She didn't mention she could have easily apparated. 

"Don't mention it."

She made to step away from him but he hesitated to let go of her arm, his fingers lingering over her skin. She watched as he raised his hand to her face, tenderly brushing a loose strand away from her face, curling it with his finger. 

"Thank you," she said, her voice breathy.

His hand dropped and he stepped back. She didn't want him to go. 

"Do you want to come in?" 

She only processed what she had said after the words had left her mouth. Was she being improper? It was pouring and he had made her the courtesy of walking her home. The least she could do was to invite him in, it was a display of gracious manners. 

If she was worried he might have misinterpreted, he instead looked unperturbed. 

"I think it is best if I get back. It's getting quite late." 

She didn't show her disappointment. "Of course. Have a good evening." 

He returned her wish and waited until she unlocked her front door before leaving.

Within the cosiness of her home, she spent all night thinking about him. She replayed her whole afternoon while she was sitting in the bathtub, brushing her hair, making dinner. His feathery touch lingered like a phantom hand, the memory of his gaze followed her in everything she did, and, as she laid in bed, the ache of his rejection - that she knew to be insignificant - turned into fear she had ruined everything, a creature threatening to devour her as her mind grew tired and the night grew darker, the ticking of the clock an incessant reminder of everything she could crave but never have.

She looked at the dangling sign, the golden letters carved into dark wood, and entered the shop trying not to look at the stuffed fox by the entrance. 

The interior was just as sinister. She ignored an undoubtedly haunted portrait and passed in front of an array of body parts she was sure had belonged to Frankenstein at one point.

“Those are for the more eccentric customers,” Tom said, coming out of the backroom and spooking her. 

“I’m not going to ask what they need them for,” she replied with a nervous laugh.

He stopped to take something from a shelf and showed it to her. “I think you’ll like this more.” 

It was a wooden cube with a glass surface on the top. Inside there was a simple maze and a small marble. She took it and tilted it to the side, trying to make the ball roll forward. The light reflected on the glass and when she looked again the puzzle was different and the marble was in the opposite angle. She inclined it a few more times and the maze kept shifting repeatedly.

“How am I supposed to finish this?”

“It is designed to create a sequence. You have to understand the pattern to know where the marble will be everytime and move accordingly.”

“If I don’t go mad first.”

Tom pressed his lips in an amused smile as he took the cube back and placed it on a random shelf.

She lost herself in his mesmerising gaze as he drew closer like a shadow. The tension between them was tauter.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he said, his voice a smooth whisper.

“I told you I was coming to take a look,” she replied, her lips expertly curling into a sweet smile.

“Is that all?” He stretched his arm to remove a speck of dust on the shelf to her right, enclosing her between his body and a ladder leaning against the bare wall.

She tried to remain poised as she took something out of her purse. “This came for you.”

He took the letter with a frown, turning it in his hands to read who sent it.

“Who writes to you?” She already knew there was no name on the envelope. She wondered how the sender had managed to mail it.

“I’m just as clueless as you are.” He carefully ripped the paper as she stared at him wide-eyed. He read the signature at the bottom of the message and folded it back, putting it in the pocket of his jacket.

Of course he knew, it was obvious she wasn’t able to mind her own business.

“Who do you imagine writing to me?” That captivated gleam lit up his eyes again.

“Malfoy looks like a prolific writer.”

“But Malfoy always signs his letters.” 

“Is there someone in your life that prefers to remain a secret?”

She shuddered as he trailed his fingers down her arm, gently holding her wrist. “Like a secret liaison?” he asked.

She swallowed. “Is there anyone?” There was no turning back after this.

His fingers brushed against hers and she let out a small sigh. She didn’t miss his pleased smirk as he stepped forward, her figure moving back until she rested against the wooden rungs of the ladder. They were standing behind a wall that hid them from any peering eyes, concealed by the shadow’s silhouette.

“Perhaps there is,” he murmured, taking her handbag and setting it down. “Perhaps I should reply to her promptly.” He started to slowly unbutton her coat. She could not take her eyes away from him.

“But the fact is, I am not sure what I should tell her.” He locked his eyes with hers and got down on his knees. Her breath hitched in her throat.

She stared down at him, her stomach knotting as a familiar yearning pervaded her. She had thought of him in that position, she had wanted him like this. Her heart was thundering.

“How do I fit in all of this?”

“Perhaps,” he said, holding her calf to push her foot on the first rung, “you could advise me.” She followed his movements until she was propped on the first step and grabbed the ladder, watching him. 

“You could start by writing what you like about her,” she suggested. He started massaging her ankles, his hands slowly drawing over her nylon tights from her heel straps to her calves.

“I like her beauty,” he replied with ease, tracing his finger over her seam on the back of her leg.

“I wouldn’t start like that.”

“How so?” He looked amused as his hands reached below the hem of her skirt and he brushed his lips over her knee.

“You will never win her over if she thinks you only appreciate her for her beauty.” Her lips parted as he looked up at her, strikingly handsome, and she ran her fingers through his hair, feeling the texture of his curls. They were softer than she had expected.

“What should I tell her, then?”

“Do you see her often?”

“Not as often as I’d like.”

“You could mention the small details of her person that you miss.” He languidly pushed up the fabric of her skirt, exposing her tights. 

“Like what?”

“Like the way she does her hair or how she holds her quill as she writes. Or something that made you think of her.”

“You do like the details,” he muttered, more to himself than her, looking transfixed as he hooked his finger into the band of her stockings, giving her the physical contact she had painfully craved.

“What about her intelligence?”

She nodded and tried to swallow but her throat was parched. “That too. Are you impressed by her?”

“I am. She looks remarkable.”

“Could she rival you?”

He smirked and undid her garter, tugging the nylon partially down. “I’m waiting to find out.” He pressed his lips onto her skin, kissing her bare leg. She brought her head back against the hard rung, letting out a whimper she didn’t want to contain.

His lips were slightly chapped from the cold weather but his breath was warm as he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses all over her scorching skin. Her hand found his hair again, pulling it as sweet breathy sounds came from her lips.

He focused his attention on her other thigh, digging his fingers into her flesh like a starving man and pressing his mouth harder into her skin. 

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. There was so much she wanted now. It was urging, impossible to ignore. She was looking down the edge of the precipice, unable to tear the gaze away from the looming danger. Someone was behind her threatening to push her. She was sure it was Tom.

As he kissed the inside of her thigh she felt the need to tug his head further up. He was hers for a moment, one secret moment, surrounded by a still silence that could not betray them.

He grazed his teeth over the sensitive spot and bit softly, hiking up her skirt and her suspender belt with an urgent motion. She gripped his hair tighter, ready to lead him where they clearly both wanted to be. 

She shifted her weight, the wetness between her legs so pressing it was becoming uncomfortable. 

“Tom,” she breathed as his hand gripped her waist and his lips reached right under the crease of her tight.

“Tell me what you desire the most,” he murmured, bending her knee and putting her foot one rung up to gain better access.

You.

She couldn’t tell him that. She would have never told him that, yet she was sure he already knew. Perhaps he had always known, and he had savoured each furtive glance and each stolen detail preparing for this moment. 

The thought was less mortifying than expected.

“Right now I just want-”

The bell chimed, followed by the creaking of the door opening. Tom immediately got up, letting go of her leg and concealing her with his figure until she made herself decent again. Then he scurried to assist the new customer.

She collected herself and pretended to scour the shelves for a while, waiting for the flush on her cheeks to fade and for her heart to slow down. Tom’s eyes met hers as she left, carrying anticipation and a promise.

As her hands dipped between her legs that night, she wondered if he was doing the same. 

Afterwards, questions crowded her restless night. Had he always known what their encounters were going to lead up to or was he just as surprised?

He had been hers for one long burning moment. She yearned to touch him again and she knew he desidered the same, to protract those flames until skin glowed and flesh smoked, until he could squeeze her beating organ. But how long was it going to last until he decided to crush it?

sorry for the cockblocking.

[kunasthiast]

Sanctuary

Life comes by so fast that you just can't process everything all at once. But even when a year already passed, have you already come to terms with it? After all, acceptance is the last stage of our grief, right?

a/n: i am soooo sorry for the long wait and for this new one sksksk – i've been rotting reading and watching angsty stories that this is one i've came up with! but but but, i'll make sure to publish the ones i've been promising to publish by this week haha i just finished my junior year in uni & everything's just been so stressful wOAH

okk enough about that, i hope you'll enjoy this one <333

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: angsty, No Curses!AU Word Count: 1,679 All characters are of age.This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Life just gets the better of you sometimes. Drag you through the mud, not knowing when you can resurface from all those frustrating emotions. It’s just heartbreaking.

But, when we’re in our worst, it’s when we meet the people who’ll stay with us. Yet, the worst thing about this is that they’re only temporary.

He was the best person that ever happened to me. He was there when I was in my lowest of the lowest part of my life. He was my sanctuary. He was the the one that got away. He was my red. He was my everything.

Until he wasn’t.

—

This was the last section you wrote in your journal from years ago. Looking back on it, you realized a lot of the memories, unsaid feelings, and regrets you’ve had in that part of your life.

Closing the journal, you stood up from the chair you’ve been sitting on for the past hour. This is ridiculous, why am I reading this again? You thought.

A ring tone from your phone cut your train of thoughts. Walking towards your phone, you saw a missed phone call from your pink-haired nephew. With a sigh, you hit the call button to ring him this time around. You unknowingly shed a tear as you get lost in the phone ringing.

When your nephew’s voice came through the line, it brought a small, bittersweet smile to your face. “Oh, good thing you called me back, auntie!” Yuji’s voice really brings brightness and cheerfulness everytime he speaks, a stark contrast to your somber mood. Getting no response from you, he continued, “I just wanted to ask you what time you’ll be going today? Oh, and if you’d like me to have a sleep over there at yours this week?”

You released a soft chuckle at this and looked at the clock hanging above your doorway, “Sure, I’d love to have you here with me, Yu! I’ll be there by 3PM.” You walked towards your bedroom to pick out the clothes you’ll be wearing for today’s occasion.

“Okay, gotcha on this, auntie! I’ll give the fam a heads up, so we can catch you there,” Yuji cheerfully said on the other end of the phone, leaving you give off a small smile. “I’ll hang up now, see you there, Yu.”

As you dropped the call, you went back to looking for the outfit you’ve been planning on wearing for the past few days now. You changed into your outfit and got ready before picking up your car keys, leaving your house.

Driving through the familiar streets, nostalgia came crashing like a tsunami. All bittersweet and vivid, everything just happened so fast that until now you can’t process it properly. You’ve never seen the therapist since then as well. What have I been doing? This thought lingered to you heavily.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as you pulled into the parking lot, taking a lot of moment and breath to ready yourself before stepping out of the car. The weight of the day pressed down on you, yet you still forced yourself to move forward, knowing that this visit was something you needed to do. To accept it.

Threading the path towards Sukuna’s grave, his laughter echoed in your mind. The bittersweet memories of him talking about how you’ll both die of old age. Yet, in this lifetime, he went away early just a year ago.

As you reached his headstone, you knelt down and placed the bouquet of flowers you had bought earlier. The sight of his name etched in the stone was a painful reminder of the reality you are still struggling to accept.

“Hey, love, it’s already been a year,” you whispered as your voice was trembling. Your eyes began to blur as tears formed and dripped down your cheeks. “I miss you a lot.” The wind rustled the leaves, as if the world was offering a gentle response to your words. Knowing that it’s fall, your and his favorite season, you watched the leaves gently fall around you. You knelt there in silence, letting the memories of your husband wash over you. The days you spent together, memories of the love you shared all came rushing back.

Sukuna was always red, the liveliest color you’ve ever known. From his personality, his joy, his laughter, his teases, his jokes, his dreams, his kisses, to his love for you. Everything’s red. The liveliness caught onto you when he first met you at the park, when you were at the lowest of your low. When he offered you an ice cream out of nowhere. It’s a bit strange to accept that from a stranger, sure, but you were not in the moment to deny this comfort food. And he just sat there in silence as you both lick onto your ice creams. It happens everytime he sees you at the park, until you’ve both started talking with each other. He became your sanctuary for years. 

Yet, in the blink of an eye, Sukuna became blue. Everything he once was turned to blue. And it all happened just a year ago. His sudden absence left a void that you couldn’t fill. The vibrant red color that he embodied faded to a somber blue, marking the moment he was taken from you by the world. He made your world bright and colorful.

Looking at his headstone, there is an overwhelming sadness mixed with the beautiful memories of your husband. The pain of losing him was still so fresh, but so was the warmth of the moments you shared. The way he would laugh boisterously at your clumsy self and corny jokes, the way he would hold you close as if you’re going somewhere, and the way he would whisper sweet endearments in your ear – these memories were all you had left.

“You know, I still think about why did it have to be you, love. It may sound bad, but why couldn’t it have been the other driver?,” you murmured as your fingers traced the letters of his name etched in the cold stone. This thought lingered in the air, unanswered and haunting. The accident that took him from you was so sudden, so unexpected. But then again, there is no accident that isn’t sudden, right? The questions plagued you for months until now. What if he had taken a different route? What if he had left a few minutes later?

Cutting you from your deep thoughts, you heard someone calling for you. “Auntie! I’m here,” Yuji called out as he came running towards you. You looked at him, and well, tears had to show up again since Yuji resembles your husband a lot, considering that he was his uncle. His pink hair, the shape of his eyes, even the way he smiled – it was as if a piece of Sukuna still lived on through him. 

Yuji reached you and gave you a tight hug, his youthful energy and warmth momentarily lifting the heavy weight in your heart. “I brought flowers,” he said, holding up Sukuna’s favorites, chrysanthemums. 

“Thanks, Yu,” you whispered as you took the flowers and placed them beside the ones you brought. Yuji knelt beside you, his presence comforting. “I miss him too, you know,” he said softly. “Even with the constant teasing, he always takes me out for my favorite pastimes and telling me all sorts of tips and his cool stories in boxing.”

You nodded, tears blurring your vision again as you remember just watching Sukuna tell Yuji stories everytime your nephew sleeps over your house. Those nights always ended with your husband playfully wrestling Yuji, their laughter filling the air. “Yeah, he was always there for you,” you softly said. 

“Your the reason we didn’t decide to have a kid, you know? He used to say how you were just too naughty,” you jokingly added to lighten up the mood. Yuji laughed at this, his eyes twinkling with the memory.

“He really said that?” Yuji asked, a grin spreading across his face.

“Every time you left,” you replied, smiling through your tears. “He’d always talk about how much he enjoyed having you around. You were like the son he never had.”

Yuji’s laughter faded into a thoughtful silence, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. “He meant a lot to me too, Auntie. He was like a second father.”

You both sat there in silence for a while, the wind rustling the leaves around you. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the cemetery. The pain of losing Sukuna would never fully disappear, but having Yuji by your side made it a little more bearable.

As the day turned to dusk, the sky painted in the hues of pink and orange, you felt a gentle peace settle over you. Breaking the silence, you finally said, “He always believed in living life to the fullest, he wouldn’t want us to be sad forever.”

Yuji nodded, his cheerful and bright face turned to a somberly one. “Yeah, he’d want us to keep going. We’ll get through this, auntie.”

“Thanks for being here, Yu,” you said softly as you squeezed his hand. “Anytime, auntie,” he replied with a steady, reassuring, and comforting voice.

“I’ll see you again soon,” you whispered, placing a kiss on your fingertips and pressing them against the cold stone. Standing up, you both took one last look at Sukuna’s headstone. The wind blew gently, rusting the leaves once more, as if in agreement. You brushed off the dirt from your clothes and gave Yuji your car keys. Walking back to your car in silence, side by side with Yuji, the weight of the loss seemed a little lighter. 

In your heart, you know that Sukuna will always be with you. That he’ll be guiding over you. He will always be there with his ice creams, laughs, kisses, and hugs in your memory.

Despite this loss, you know that in another lifetime, it will always be you and him, growing old together.