#what’s your go to comfort song when you’re a bit sad? grateful for any answers <3

[hasmishabeenbannedfromtwitteryet]

Has Misha been banned from twitter yet?

22/04/2023: No.

[swiftllama]

Always A Winner To Me

Fandom: Smosh

Characters: Ian Hecox, Anthony Padilla

Pairing: Ianthony (Platonic)

Genre: Comfort and Fluff

Rating: G

Summery: Anthony’s always a winner to Ian.

A/N: Hey guys! This is the first bit of writing I’ve posted in years but I was inspired after the events of last night and Taylor’s song ‘New Year’s Day’ and the lyrics - “I’ll be there if you’re the toast of the town, babe / Or if you strike out and you’re crawling home.” kept playing over in my head. And so this was born. Hope you enjoy!

It was the night of the Streamys and Anthony was nominated for a fourth time which up until now had unfortunately presented no wins. But maybe this would be his year?

A knock rattled the door. Anthony answered to be met with a smiling Ian on the other side.

“Ready to go?”

Anthony returned the smile. He’d seen Ian’s suit at the time when they’d gone shopping together a few weeks prior, but now, fully suited and booted, Anthony could really take in how well the emerald green fabric complimented his best friend and, by extension, his own attire.

“Sure.”

He locked up and they made their way to the awaiting car.

~~

The awards were in full swing. They’d popped some champagne. They’d presented an award together earlier in the night. Overall, the two men were having a great night. It was their first award show together in so many years so having the company of the other made it all the more special.

It came to the final award of the night; Anthony’s last chance. They waited with bated breath for the winner to be announced, until a twist - there had been cards hidden at tables around the room with letters that would spell out the winner.

Ian began the search right away, lifting up the tablecloth before standing from his seat and searching frantically.

“Come on, dude! Help me look!”

Anthony remained seated, he’d spotted a few of the letters as people made their way up to the front with their cards; at first hopeful of seeing a few that could spell out his show’s title but quickly that hope faded at seeing one’s that didn’t.

“It’s fine Ian, I didn’t win.”

Upon not finding any cards and Anthony’s dejected look, Ian sat down once again. He side-eyed Anthony, a tug of sadness playing on his heart as he felt for his best friend.

The winner was announced, they clapped along with the audience to show face but the disappointment was evident.

The closing act performed but the pair weren’t in the mood for celebrating and so they stood silently next to each other until the show drew to a close, the house lights came up, and the audience started to disperse.

After making their way outside they said their goodbyes to the other few members of their group until it was just the two of them.

“You want to go for a drink?” Ian finally asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Please.”

They jumped into one of the awaiting taxis and requested the driver to take them to the nearest bar.

~~

A short drive later and the final destination being a small speakeasy on the corner of a fairly quiet, for LA anyways, street; It was late and a Sunday after all. But it was just what they needed and fit the tone of the night.

Inside, they holed up in a rounded booth and Ian ordered a whiskey for each of them.

They nursed their drinks in contemplative silence. But this wasn’t them anymore; they spoke about things now. About their feelings and checked in with each other. So Ian spoke.

“How are you doing?”

Anthony looked up at him through hooded eyes for a moment before looking down into his glass, swirling the ice.

“I’m okay. Just… disappointed.”

“I’m sorry, man. I’m disappointed for you too.”

Anthony met his gaze once more, giving him a grateful half-smile.

“Thanks. I know it’s just an award but it’s just nice to be recognised for your hard work, you know?”

“I know. But it doesn’t diminish the hard work you have put in. That still counts for something.”

This time, Anthony smiled more genuine; Ian’s words making him feel just that bit lighter. “Thanks Ian. I’m glad I had you there tonight.”

Ian fawned, putting a hand to his chest. “Little ol’ me?”

Anthony grinned.

“I am the best date you could ever have.” Ian quipped with sass, flipping pretend hair over his shoulder.

This earned a laugh from Anthony. Ian could always make him feel better.

Leaning forward on the table, Anthony hummed. “Let’s talk about something else.”

The men sat engaged in light chit-chat until the bar called for closing. Their taxi arrived within a matter of minutes and they got in.

~~

They sat in comfortable silence in the back of the taxi as it drove them to their respective homes.

The car slowed as it pulled up outside Ian’s.

“Alright, that’s me. Message me when you get home.”

Just before he got out, Ian turned to Anthony. “And hey,” he started, taking his hand in his. “You’re always a winner to me.” He smiled softly in the dim light, gently squeezing Anthony’s hand three times as a silent ‘I love you’.

Anthony’s heart swelled, matching Ian’s expression, and what Ian couldn’t see was the glaze in his eyes.

With that, Ian exited the car and gave a final wave through the window before turning his back to make his way to the house. The car pulled away and Anthony sat there, his feelings of disappointment now a distant memory in the night, because truthfully, it was just an award. Sure, there might be others in the future, but even if there wasn’t, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because the one award that meant anything to him was his once more; and that was Ian. Nothing could put a damper on what this year had given to him. Having Ian by his side again, owning Smosh, doing what they love - what award could ever beat that? So yes, he may have lost that night, but he had won the greatest prize of all.

[rafescoke]

Maybank ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

Part #2

Read part #1 here

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Sometimes both sides are in the wrong.

Warnings: More angst, mentions of substance, gaslighting!

A/N: you know the drill. . . send requests!

(Y/N) isn’t one to feel jealous easily.

When she dated a certain boy from her school a few years ago, she wasn’t even phased when she had found him kissing another girl at a party.

She simply didn’t care.

But the aching feeling in her when she saw her current boyfriend sniffing a line on the back of a random girl with the perfect house and the perfect clothes and the-

“(Y/N), do you want to come down to the beach with us?”

(Y/N) finally looks up from her novel in which she wasn’t even reading in the first place. Her mind was somewhere else, and her thoughts weren’t put in the context of the book.

“No. I’m not feeling well.”

JJ sighs, fixing his cap backwards and placing himself beside her. He looks over her lap, reading the first few lines of the book his sister’s reading and sighs. 

“I never read, so I do not understand how this whole novel thing works. But I’m pretty sure reading about getting over a breakup won’t do you any good.”

(Y/N) rolls her eyes, snapping her book with a shut. The last thing she ever wants is for JJ to lecture her. She had enough bawling her eyes the past 2 weeks. 

“What time are you supposed to go again? Go.”

She’s grateful, of course, for JJ. He was there for her the whole 2 weeks when she didn’t feel like eating or taking a shower or anything that involved getting out of the bed.

But she feels better now, her hair perfectly up in a hairdo and the red color of her cheeks returning.

She’s not sad anymore.

The feeling evolves into anger.

Of course, (Y/N).

You’re nothing but a pogue.

If there’s one thing Obx is famous for, that will be the annual bonfire. It’s an excuse for every teenager on the island to let loose and to free themselves after a year of studying.

For (Y/N), it’s just another party for Rafe to ignore her.

But she’s not coming down to the beach with him a few distance away, hell, she doesn’t even know if he’s coming.

“What the fuck! You told me you’re not coming,” JJ laughs, giving his sister a side hug. “You look good. You don’t look pale anymore.”

“I’m gonna be sick if you keep saying nice things to me,” (Y/N) rolls her eyes, though her insides are beaming. JJ has always been her number one supporter, and she loves her brother with all her heart.

“Just don’t go to the other side of the beach, okay? All your friends are here.”

And we’re back to him protecting her.

She gets it, really, but she doesn’t feel like a night full of JJ and his friends becoming some sort of bodyguards to her.

The last thing she ever wants is for Rafe to think she’s still weak.

“J, I know.”

He holds both of his hands up, “I’m just saying. I’m by the fire if you ever need me, okay?”

It’s funny how the boy who cried to her over his scraped knee is the same boy who’s trying his best to protect her. Growing up in a dysfunctional family, all (Y/N) and JJ has is each other. 

(Y/N) walks to the music booth, getting so tired over the same artist being played over and over again. She doesn’t feel like listening to Drake all while trying to forget a certain brunette boy from the back of her head.

“Hey, can I get something different? Play the Euphoria soundtrack if you must. Anything other than the songs you’re playing.”

The DJ looks up to her and gives out the widest grin. (Y/N) tries to look away from the charming smile, but her eyes are glued to a pair of blue ones.

“Not a fan of Drake?”

“Nah.”

“Why? Trying to move on from an ex?”

She gulps, “No. Just have a good taste in music.”

The guy licks his teeth, “Touche. The name’s Nate.”

(Y/N) gives him a small grin, “Hm. Can we change the song now?”

Nate raises a brow because god; no one has ever disregard him. 

There’s something about the girl.

“Is Party In The USA good enough for you, princess?”

Her breath hitches. The last time someone has ever called her princess was probably a few weeks ago. 

This is not helping her to get over him.

“Whatever. You’re the DJ, right?” she answers, turning on her heels. “Oh wait, Nate?”

He smiles at her again, and (Y/N) has the urge to slap the smug look off his face.

“Don’t call me princess. You’re not my boyfriend.”

For the past 40 minutes, no Drake song has been playing. The crowd begins filling the empty space in the middle to dance with each other, and (Y/N) has to look away from the couple getting close and leaving kisses down each other’s necks.

She makes her way down to the drinks counter to get herself a beer because she really doesn’t feel like watching another friend of hers kissing their partners while sober. She decides that if she has to stay for another hour of people making out with each other, it’s better if she’s intoxicated.

“Hey.”

(Y/N) turns her back, expecting to see a drunk friend of hers, but the sight of the same DJ from before greets her.

She rolls her eyes, “I’m not asking you to change the music.”

“I know, I guess I started off wrong just now. Let me reintroduce myself. You deserve to know the real me.”

(Y/N) laughs, because this whole thing sounds like something out of a corny Netflix movie. He’s cute, sure, but she’s just not interested.

He removes the beanie he’s been wearing all night, revealing a blonde buzz cut underneath. (Y/N) tries not to stare.

Okay. Screw cute. He’s handsome. 

“Hi, I’m Nate. I’m from New York, and I just moved here.”

She smiles, finally, because he fits the exact image she has of every male teenager in New York. Blonde buzz cut, an unbuttoned blue shirt with a peak of his toned body underneath, and a pair of red shorts. 

A new kook.

“Nate, your kind and I don’t match. You’re a kook.”

He scrunches his face, “They’ve been telling me that shit since the first week I’ve been here-” he steps closer, and (Y/N) can smell his expensive cologne. It’s not the same one she favors on Rafe, but it’s close. “-don’t tell me you believe that stuff.”

Oh.

She grins, “I’m not rich, Nate.”

“So?”

Oh.

“The name’s (Y/N),” she smiles, extending her hand. Nate beams, because finally, after a whole night of watching her from his booth, she finally expresses the most beautiful smile there is. 

“(Y/N), I feel like we’re going to get closer soon.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I’m not a Drake’s fan either.”

. . .

(Y/N)’s hesitant. 

She doesn’t believe him in one bit, not even when he flashes her the most charming smile ever. 

But he’s not afraid to show her off. She went on a date with him a few nights ago, and she distanced herself from him upon the entrance of the restaurant.

“What the fuck are you doing? C’mere.”

(Y/N) looked up to him, “You don’t have to stay near with me.”

Nate turned to her with a confused expression. “Why? I’m buying you dinner, remember?”

He held her hands in his, and she let him.

Nate pokes her side and suppresses a giggle when she yelps from the sudden touch. He fails, however, when she falls from his bed onto the floor. 

“You’re too ticklish,” he says and helps her up to her feet. Her eyes wander to the band posters on his wall again, being so amazed and surprised by this boy’s taste in music and movies.

“I don’t even listen to half of the bands you listen to,” she says finally, pulling herself down to the empty space beside him. “Do you know who’s Ariana Grande?”

Nate rolls his eyes, “Ha-ha. No. I don’t. Is she the one who sang Despacito or something?”

(Y/N) laughs and her heart suddenly soars. She feels at ease, and there’s lightness in the air, even when they’re in public.

(Y/N) stands up, taking the full room into view again, and walks to the shelf full of pictures of Nate and his family. There’s a picture of him in a soccer jersey, a picture of him playing the drums and then an electric guitar, and-

“Oh my god, is this your girlfriend?” (Y/N) exclaims, picking up a photo frame with a beautiful brunette girl smiling back at her. “She’s so pretty.”

“(Y/N), put it back,” Nate rolls his eyes, standing up from the comfort of his bed and walking towards her. (Y/N) laughs, liking the way his eyebrows scrunch in distress and hides the photo frame behind her.

“(Y/N). . . I’m not playing.”

“No one is playing, Nate,” she laughs, taking a few steps back as he motions forward. “I can’t believe you have a sweetheart back in NYC, Nate.”

“(Y/N), put it back.”

(Y/N) pulls a confused expression, “Put what back?” she brings the frame forward, and expressed a fake sigh. “Oh, this? I was just checking this out-” Nate charges for her and she squeals, running towards the end of his room and watching as he runs in her direction. She panics, looking around for a place to hide, and as her eyes meet his bed, Nate has the same idea in his head.

He pushes her over his bed so she topples over, the frame still in her hands. She yelps, leaving the frame alone and using both of her hands to push his chest away. 

Nate hovers over her, being so close he can smell her sweet scent now, and she looks so good under his yellow lights and in his bed and that goddamn smirk on her face-

“Is she your girlfriend, Nate?”

“None of your concern, princess,” he answers. Her eyes snap down to the cross dangling from his neck, and he can’t do this anymore; not when she looks so pretty under his gaze.

(Y/N) can feel the sudden change in the air now, and the chasing game they’ve been playing suddenly doesn’t look like a chasing game.

He’s like a predator waiting to attack. 

(Y/N)’s eyes look up to him again. “Is she your girlfriend?”

And he connects his lips with her. She gasps from the sudden touch, but after a few seconds, he can feel her kissing him back. 

And for once, she feels okay again. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him close to her and letting his warmth engulfing her.

She feels at peace.

“Rafe,” she whispers, letting the blonde boy trails down to her neck.

Nate pulls away, his lips sore and red after their brief makeout session.

Chest heaving, he steps away. “Rafe?”

(Y/N) sits up, groaning and fixing her hair. “God, I’m so stupid. I don’t mean that, Nate, I’m sorry. Please, don’t go.”

Nate pulls a disgusted face, and it’s the same look Rafe had put in the party a few weeks ago to her and she can feel herself losing again. 

“I’m going out. You can stay here if you want.”

“Nate-”

The door closes behind him, and (Y/N) groans. 

Way to go, (Y/N).

. . .

She hates how bad she feels for Nate.

He has been nothing but a total sweetheart to her, and there she was; moaning another guy’s name and letting him walked out of his own home.

So that’s the core reason as to why she’s standing outside of his house at 10 p.m. on a Friday, letting the heavy rain soaks her whole outfit because of course she would forget to bring an umbrella.

She knocks again, with her fists this time, because she’s certain he hadn’t heard her. For a moment, she’s afraid his father or mother would open the door but after remembering how they’re going to be away for a business trip, she sighs in relief. 

The door opens midway of her banging on the door, revealing a shirtless Nate with nothing but green sweatpants complimenting his legs.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” he groans, tugging her arms in and closing the door after her. (Y/N) attacks him in a tight hug, slightly shivering from the cold rain outside, and after a few seconds, Nate hugs her back.

“You’re okay?”

“Can we talk in your room?”

“Uh, I don’t-”

(Y/N) doesn’t let him give any excuse and she pulls him into the living room, but before she can reach the space, he pulls her to a halt.

“Hey, we can’t go there, I’m kinda, um, doing something. What’s wrong?”

She sighs, “Nate, I’m so sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it when I called you someone else’s name and that’s the stupidest thing I ever did but please don’t go, okay? You’re all I have.”

Nate laughs, “God, you’re really worried about that? I get it, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is, really. But tell me one thing, though-” he pulls her arms, and pins her against the wall. (Y/N) smiles, staring into his blue orbs. “Is this Rafe more handsome than me?”

“Hey man, we really can’t wait-” a voice starts from the direction of the living room, and before (Y/N) can move away, the voice rings again. “Ah. Of course.”

Oh my god.

She misses him too much. His hair is messier than ever, his eyes bloodshot and his nose red. (Y/N) wonders how many lines he did, but judging from the distant look in his eyes, she’s guessing a lot.

“Rafe,” she whispers, getting closer to the boy she missed and letting his smell engulf her. 

“Rafe?” Nate quirks a brow because this isn’t making any sense. Why would she called his friend the name-

Of course.

Rafael is Rafe.

So this is the guy.

His childhood friend is ‘the Rafe’ of the girl he’s starting to fall for.

After so many hours of trying to find the Rafe she accidentally called him, he hadn’t thought of his own childhood friend to be the guy all along.

Growing up, he have been told to call him Rafael up until the day he moved to New York. 

He can’t believe it.

“Rafe,” she calls again, this time following Rafe out to the living room. “Rafe, listen to me.”

“You moved on too fast.”

“I haven’t moved on, Rafe, fuck, I swear I haven’t,” she expresses. “Please. Listen to me.”

“You were mad at me for doing a line from some bitch’s back and you’re, you’re o-out here, under my own fucking friend’s arms and- did y’all fucked?”

“What?” she gasps, “God, Rafe, no. No. I will never fuck anyone other than you.”

“Yeah?” Rafe raises a brow and lets out a shrill laugh. “God, I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

“You can, Rafe,” she steps forward, trying to reach his face with her cold fingers. The anger she felt before suddenly dissipates into the thin air because god, she did not realize how much she has been missing this boy more than anything in the world.

Her everything.

Rafe flinches away, “Stop. Do you know how miserable I am the past few weeks without you?”

“Don’t turn this on me now, Rafe.” “And you’re out here with fucking Nate Hamilton. Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Rafe, it’s not like that,” Nate suddenly steps in, and (Y/N) gives him a warning look not to say anything more. He ignores her, “Are we not going to talk about how you disregard her just because of her status on this fucking island?”

“God, always with your equality shit,” Rafe groans. “You guys deserve each other. I can’t believe you will ever do this to me, Nate.”

What hurt Rafe more isn’t the fact that she was all pinned under his arms, but it was because Nate knew about their relationship. Rafe had told him everything about her ever since they first started dating, and he hadn’t just lost her tonight.

He lost his childhood friend too.

“I’m leaving,” he says, rubbing his nose and sniffing. Rafe isn’t sure how many lines he has done, but his mind is getting lighter and lighter and the lights are turning blurry. 

He can’t stand being in the same room as them. He will fucking drive if he has to.

(Y/N) bites her lips, trying to stop herself from bursting into tears. So they know each other? Why won’t Rafe ever tell her about him? Is this still her fault? She wasn’t even cheating on him. They’re not together.

Right?

Are they together?

“Hey, you’re okay?”

(Y/N) pulls her hands away, stepping away from the blonde boy and walking towards the exit. She has to leave this house as soon as possible. The once comforting bright color of the wall seems so dull and suffocating now, and she longs for the familiar blue paint of Rafe’s room.

She wants Rafe. 

No one else.

Just him.

“Just me?” Rafe smiled. “Hey, hey, I got a surprise for you.”

“Rafe, I hate surprises,” (Y/N) groaned, throwing her head back against the headrest. “You bought me a dress before!”

“Look-” he smiled, showing her a gold ring in a small velvet box. “It’s a ring.”

“Oh my god, it looks like yours!” (Y/N) exclaimed, clutching his hand with the ring and comparing the color. 

“Of course it’s the same ring. You’re my wife, I’m not going to buy you a different kind.”

“Wife?”

“What? Am I not your husband?”

(Y/N) wishes for nothing but Rafe. 

She presses on his contact again, turning her phone downside and moving the speaker nearer to her lips.

“Rafe, please call me back. I miss you, and we can fix this, okay? I didn’t know about Nate and I was so, so stupid. I can never replace you, Rafe. You’re mine, remember? Please. Call me back. I miss you.”

She sighs, setting her phone down on her lap and watches as the rain patters down her front windscreen heavily.

Love is a hell of a drug.

-

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @pogueslandia @alwaysclassyeagle @rottenstyx @wxn-drlst

[atinymonster]

tears and kisses

ateez 9th member.

when jiyu and sunwoo are given the chance to make up with one another.

the way i sort of got carried away but hehe it’s okay 🥺

➴ taglist: @banhmi07, @jiyeons-closet, @jaeminpeachy, @mochibabycakes, @euphoriamingi, @marsophilia, @goddessofdestructionbeast, @studioreader, @dkdlwhs12

➴ masterlist

"Wait, this is a horrible idea, Eric.”

“No it’s not, calm down Sunwoo. You look like you’re about to puke,” Eric rolled his eyes at his friend’s dramatics.  

“Because I am!” Sunwoo whisper-shouted as to not distract their manager who was currently driving them. 

A week had passed with no signs of reconciliation between Jiyu and Sunwoo. Which meant a week of Eric and the other boys dealing with a sulking and brooding Sunwoo who scrambled for his phone at every notification that he received. Even during the live broadcast for Kingdom, his members could tell how much he wanted to approach Jiyu, but his hesitance held him back. 

Eventually, he decided enough was enough for the sake of not only Jiyu and Sunwoo, but for the sanity of everyone else who so desperately wanted the two to make up. 

“Alright guys, we have a plan!” Eric and Haknyeon suddenly declared in the middle of their dorm living room. 

“What plan?” Hyunjae asked before a lightbulb went off in his head. “Oh, for our brooding rapper over there?”

Eric nodded. “Precisely.”

Sunwoo rolled his eyes, yet he couldn’t ignore the small spark of hope that ignited in his chest. He had been wracking his brain all day for the past week on how to apologize to Jiyu, but he was afraid she was still angry with him despite her small smiles and encouragement towards him during the recent Kingdom live broadcast. 

“I texted Wooyoung, and he said everyone else was willing to help us. Without Jiyu’s knowledge of course.”

“What if she’s still angry at me?” Sunwoo groaned, burying his head into his hands. The closer they were to arriving at KQ, Sunwoo felt the stress and anxiousness weighing down on him even more. 

Eric stifled his chuckles. According to Wooyoung, Jiyu worried about the exact same thing, which was the main reason why neither of them were able to make the first move to reconcile. “Wooyoung told us Jiyu wasn’t angry anymore. He said she was feeling regretful if anything.

And he was right. Despite Jiyu’s attempts to try and act like her normal, everyone could tell her mind was elsewhere with the amount of spacing out she’s done.

The recent offline fansign they had was the hardest for her, having adorable comments about Sunwoo being thrown at her so often. All she could do was smile as a response, even if all she wanted to do was break down and cry. The boys all took turns looking out for her, and they felt a pang of guilt whenever they overheard an ATINY talk to her about Sunwoo.

But what could they do? Nothing. Jiyu had told them numerous times that she didn’t want to raise any suspicions, and that she didn’t want to bring the mood down since it was their first time seeing ATINY in person after a whole year.

The boys hated seeing her so lifeless and saddened when they didn’t have any schedules, so when Wooyoung received a text from Haknyeon asking for their cooperation in getting the two together again, he wasted no time informing the others (minus Jiyu) and gaining their approval.

“So what choreography are we learning today?” Jiyu asked, plopping down onto the floor while waiting for Wooyoung to choose a song on the practice room monitor.

Every so often on their free days, the two would take the time to learn another group’s dance together for fun and to keep their dance skills sharp. Not that Jiyu minded; dance was an escape for her, and she could really use a dance session at the moment to clear her head. 

Wooyoung knew that, so he used the dance session as a way to try and lift her spirits, as well as a way to keep her in the room so she didn’t bump into Sunwoo prematurely.

“I’ll teach you Don’t Call Me! I need a buddy to dance with and we can record it to show ATINY later,” he answered, peeking at his phone every so often to keep an eye out for a text from one of the others to let him know when Sunwoo would arrive.

[hongjoong] is everything okay so far?

[wooyoung] yep! she’s still with me in the dance room :)

[san] great! now let’s all pray the two of them make up soon...i don’t like seeing baby monster so sad :(

[yeosang] yeah, it’s weird when she’s all frowning and not her usual bubbly self

[hongjoong] i know, it’s weird not having her voice resonate through the dorm everyday...

[hongjoong] anyways, we’ll direct sunwoo to practice studio 2, so send jiyu there too when we text you again later

“Who are you texting?”

Wooyoung felt his heart stop the moment he looked up and saw that she was about to peer over and read the text messages. Turning off his phone, his mind was scrambling for a valid excuse. 

“Nothing, San just started spamming me with messages again,” he chuckled, letting out a discreet sigh of relief when she believed him. “Come one, let’s start!”

Jiyu’s ability to quickly pick up choreography was both a blessing and a curse. This was one of the rare times where Wooyoung found it a curse. She was able to learn the first verse all in ten minutes, and Wooyoung only learned up to the end of first chorus to teach her. At this rate, they were most likely going to finish before Sunwoo even arrived.

“Okay, let’s take a break? I’m sure your body still hurts from practicing for Kingdom.” Wooyoung said, trying to mask how frantic he was. Luckily, she agreed, sliding down the wall and resting her head in his shoulder before letting out a sigh.

“Feeling okay?” he asked, patting her head.

“If I’m being honest, not really. I just...miss him,” she quietly admitted, her chest tightening as various emotions began to overtake her mind. She never talked to any of the boys about how she was really feeling, not wanting to burden them with her personal problem. While she was extremely grateful that they tried everything within their power to cheer her up, she didn’t want them to feel obligated to stick with her every second of the day just to make sure she was okay. 

Wooyoung bit his lip. He felt a sense of guilt for not being able to tell her that Sunwoo was on his way over as they spoke. “Do you want to talk to him?” 

Jiyu touched her now-empty wrist, missing the weight of the bracelet that she had thoughtlessly left behind at Sunwoo’s studio. “I won’t lie, I do want to talk to him again...but does he want to talk to me is the real question.”

Before he could reply, he heard his phone’s ringtone go off—his cue to send Jiyu to meet Sunwoo. His heart started to pound in anticipation for the moment they’ve all been waiting for. Fishing out his phone from his jacket pocket, he couldn’t stop the small smile that spread across his face, a smile that didn’t go unnoticed by Jiyu.

“San again?” she giggled, completely unaware of who and what was waiting for her just down and around the corner of the hall.

“No, uh, Seonghwa hyung wanted to do a VLIVE, but the wifi connection’s acting up again. Can you run over to practice studio 2 and help him out?” he asked, mentally apologizing to Seonghwa for hinting that he was an old man for not knowing how to fix a simple wifi connection (when in reality, he most likely knew how).

He must’ve been blessed with luck for the day because Jiyu agreed without hesitation or suspicion, mumbling about how she swore she showed him how to reset it a few weeks ago. 

A few minutes after she left, the practice room door opened and the others, along with Eric, quietly filed into the room to join Wooyoung in anxiously waiting for the outcome of their little plan. 

“Mission accomplished!” Yunho whisper shouted with a little grin. 

“We can’t say that yet. Not until we know if they made up or not,” Seonghwa reminded. Deep down, he was worried for Jiyu. Should the outcome be one that they weren’t hoping for, he knew Jiyu would be strong, accept the results, and push through. But how would she really feel deep down?

It was a mutual concern of their’s. They knew Jiyu would never want to worry them, they knew she’d just keep how she really felt to herself if things went downhill, so they really hoped with all their heart that everything would turn out alright for her. She couldn’t lose another person she loved, it wouldn’t be fair for her.

While the boys were waiting in the practice room, Jiyu made her way down to the studio. It was odd, Seonghwa never mentioned anything about a VLIVE today, but given how often she’s spaced out the past few days, she wouldn’t be surprised if his notification went in one ear and out the other.

“Seonghwa? I thought I showed you how to reset the wifi—”

The words died in her throat when she opened the door and instead of seeing Seonghwa, she saw the one person she’s been missing like crazy. She was convinced it was a hallucination that her mind had conjured, or that she was dreaming. 

“No, no, shut up mind, you’re not doing this to me right now,” she mumbled to herself with her eyes closed, about to close the door and open it again in hopes that she’d see Seonghwa instead of Sunwoo sitting at the monitor table. 

“Hey, hey.”

Before she could close the door, Sunwoo held it open before pulling her inside and closing the door. 

And that’s when it hit her that he wasn’t a hallucination. She felt the warmth of his hand on her’s when he pulled her in, and she felt his body’s warmth and his breath on her shoulder when he pulled her in for a hug the second the door closed. 

Sunwoo noticed how she tensed when he brought her into his arms, and a pang of sadness shook within his chest. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, feeling his eyes water. He tightened his hold on her, afraid that she would disappear if he loosened his grip. 

Feeling his body tremble, her arms moved on their own, gingerly wrapping themselves around him and her hands drawing small, comforting circles on his back. Tears pricked at her own eyes but she refused to let them fall. 

Basking in the warmth of each other’s arms, no words were exchanged. They just silently rocked side-to-side as Jiyu tried to comfort the boy in her arms. 

Despite her calm exterior, she was a mess on the inside. Her heart was pounding in her chest from having the presence and warmth of her beloved back while her mind tried to find the words to say. 

“I’m sorry, too,” she managed to say even though her voice started to crack from trying to keep her tears in. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she couldn’t bring herself to.

Lifting his head from her shoulder, tearily chuckled before bumping foreheads with her. “Hey, don’t cry.” he mumbled, feeling his heart break at the sight of her crying. He’d never seen her cry before, not even on the night of their fight. 

But his words seemed to only encourage her tears and before she realized, she felt the tears slipping down her cheeks and the small sobs wracking through her body. She felt relief crash into her; relief that this all wasn’t a hallucination or a dream, and relief that he wasn’t there to break up with her.

Sunwoo sniffled before stroking her cheek to wipe away the river of tears, all while gently shushing her and whispering words of comfort. Once he felt her breath start to even out again, he guided her to the chairs and sat her down in one while he sat on the other. Jiyu couldn’t look at him, but the tight grip of her hands on his conveyed everything.

“I’m sorry for that night,” he quietly said, rubbing circles on the back of her hand with his thumbs, “I should’ve just asked you about it rather than assume and take out my anger on you like that. And—” 

He paused, feeling his throat tighten as he remember all the horrible words he said. “I’m sorry for accusing you of being unfaithful. I really don’t think of you like that, I swear.”

Jiyu cupped his face in her hands and raised his head so he was looking at her. His bambi eyes were now filled with tears again, and it sent ripple of sadness throughout her chest. “It’s okay, I forgive you,” she cooed, using her thumbs to wipe away the stray tears that escaped his eyes.

“And I’m sorry for lashing out at you, too...and for saying things would’ve been better if we broke up.”

Sunwoo didn’t respond, but the way he nuzzled his face further into her hands answered for him, and she let out a little giggle. He felt the corners of his lips tug upwards at the sound of her laughter; he had terribly missed the sound. 

Another moment of silence passed before Jiyu started to speak again. “My brother’s my only family left.”

Sunwoo’s eyes widened before they wandered to find her own. Taking her hands away from his face and resting them on his own again, she took a deep breath before continuing. “My parents died in an accident when I was three. Jiyong and I were the only survivors so we were sent to Guangzhou to live with our grandparents. That’s why we’re so affectionate with each other...we’re all we have left here in Korea.”

No matter how many times she spoke of her family, it never got easier. There was still the stinging pain in her chest, the guilt she carried around for years always started to resurface, and the anxious feeling that the person would think less of her when they found out about her broken family.

But Sunwoo just brought her in for the tightest hug he’s ever given her and buried his face into the crook of her neck. He knew she didn’t tell him that to make him feel worse about himself, but it still broke his heart when he realized he had accused her of cheating when in reality, she was with the only family she had left. 

Countless apologies left his lips as Jiyu carded her fingers through his curly hair. No matter how many times he heard her whisper that it was okay, it didn’t ease the guilt that consumed his mind.

“I told you because I trust you. You didn’t even know, so please don’t blame yourself.”

It took a few minutes for her to soothe him, but she didn’t mind. She missed hugging him, she missed feeling his body against her’s, she just missed him. Too busy caught up in her thoughts, she missed how he fumbled around for something in his pocket before feeling a cold sensation wrap around her wrist. Looking down, she couldn’t control the smile that grew on her face when she saw the familiar white bracelet. 

“I think this belongs to you, lovebug” he chuckled, satisfied when he saw a genuine smile instead of the forced ones she gave him during the live broadcast.

Her heart swelled with happiness at the nickname that she thought she’d never be able to hear again. “Thank you, sunshine,” she returned the nickname, an indirect reassurance that they were okay, that everything was okay. 

With him still hugging onto her, she leaned down to place a quick kiss on his cheek, laughter rumbling from her chest when he started pouting and claiming she missed.

“I don’t think I missed, Woo—” 

Before she could even finish, she felt him swiftly readjust their position so that he was pressing her against the chair, his hands firmly pressed onto the armrests to keep himself up. “I think you did, love,” he smirked before leaning down and pressing his lips against her’s.

It wasn’t their first kiss, but she still felt the volcano of butterflies erupting, fluttering around in her stomach. She wrapped her arms around his neck when one of his hands gently grabbed onto the side of her neck. 

Pulling away, Sunwoo placed one last kiss onto her forehead before getting up and offering his hand out to her. “Come on, let’s go tell everyone the good news,” he giggled. It always threw her in for a loop at how he could switch from looking like he wanted to devour her back to an adorable puppy in a few seconds, (although Sunwoo could say the same about her). 

Taking his hand and letting him hoist her up, she held him back before he could walk towards the door. Looking back and cocking his head to the side, he swore his heart almost stopped when she smiled up at him. 

“I love you, sunshine,” she said, her aura resembling a puppy that had it’s tail happily wagging.

Eyes filled with adoration and affection, he smiled before leaning down to peck her lips one last time. “I love you, too lovebug.”

[hyungieyoongi]

Choices: “Run Away to You” Part 5

“If we start this again, I’m not letting you go. Not this time.”

“Then don’t. Don’t let me go.”

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Genre: Angst + FLUFFY FLUFF (it has been quite the buildup but we are HERE, folks!!!) 

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

Part 4 // Part 6

---

Music blared in your headphones as you wandered around the unfamiliar apartment. Marianne had already dropped off your duffel bag of supplies for your temporary stay here; it was currently waiting to be unpacked, left in the first random bedroom you could find.  

Yoongi had come back to his studio after your talk with Marianne, a member of his team from the label following closely behind him. Because photographers were still swarming outside of your building, the label decided it would be best to put you in an apartment on their premises. While the number of cameras had certainly dwindled since that morning, it was best for you to stay hidden and to keep a low profile.

As Marianne and Yoongi’s staff discussed the details of getting a bag packed on your behalf, Yoongi quietly informed you that the apartment was in the same building as his and the rest of the band’s shared home–the unit the label owned was for staff and security detail who needed to stay close to the members.

You hoped that meant you would have a chance to talk to him again. The two-week time limit that Marianne gave you had already started to tick like a clock in your head.

For now, you were left alone to get settled into your new space with strict instructions to stay offline and only answer the phone for Marianne, Yoongi, or the label. You opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water, singing aloud to one of your favorite songs that had just started playing.

Someone snuck up behind you, but your music was too loud to hear them. You spun around, about to take a sip of water, and flinched, a hand flying to your chest to stop your heart from pounding in surprise at the sight of Yoongi standing in front of you.

“Oh my gosh, Yoongi, you scared the shit out of me,” you exclaimed, pulling the headphones out of your ears. Yoongi laughed, his signature gummy smile making an appearance. You scowled. “Hey, stop laughing at me, you can’t just sneak up on people like that,” you said, feigning annoyance.  

“And you can’t just leave your door unlocked,” Yoongi scolded.

“I thought this building was supposed to be secure,” you countered.

“Still, can never be too careful,” Yoongi said, a mischievous look in his eyes, “anyone could have come in here.”

“Well, I guess I should be glad it’s you that broke in, huh?” you said, slightly taken aback by how flirtatious you sounded. Yoongi’s blush indicated his own surprise at the banter. He averted his eyes for a second, clearing his throat.

“I, um, I actually came by to invite you to dinner later. At the apartment.”

“Dinner? With you and the, uh, rest of the boys?” you asked, trying to stay casual. You had spent a decent amount of time with the members when you and Yoongi were dating a year ago. You couldn’t imagine you were their favorite person for leaving Yoongi the way you did.

“I figured since you were staying here for a while, you all might as well…reconnect,” Yoongi said hesitantly. You couldn’t help but be a little reluctant when you answered.

“Sure, I’ll be there.”

---

Yoongi gave you instructions on which apartment to go to at 8:00 p.m. tonight and then left your apartment for a rehearsal. You had plenty of time to run this night over again in your head, wondering if you were going to be an unwelcome guest. You and Yoongi might have been a secret from the rest of the world, but you were never able to hide from the boys. They had been just as much a part of your life as Yoongi. You had left them, too.

Before you could knock, the door swung open.

“Noona!” Jungkook exclaimed, grabbing you and spinning you around in a hug.

“Hey, Kook, I missed you.”

“We missed you too, especially hyung. I’m glad you’re back,” Jungkook told you with a bunny smile. His hair was dyed purple at the moment, the long length slightly curling at the ends to frame his face. “Come on, we’re all in the kitchen,” Jungkook said, leading you through their large apartment.

“Hey, Y/N, good to see you,” Taehyung said from his spot on the couch in the living room. Jimin waved at you enthusiastically, his eyes going back to the game the two were playing on the TV. You sighed happily, feeling more comfortable with their warm responses to your presence.

You made it to the kitchen, seeing Jin stir something on the stove in front of him. You gave him a shy smile.

“Hi, Jin.”

“Hey, Y/N, glad you could make it,” Jin said, wiping his hands on a towel by the sink before coming around to give you a quick hug.

“Me too.” Jungkook started poking at whatever was on the stove with a spoon, and Jin immediately started fussing at him to stop ruining his culinary creation.

“Y/N?” you heard a deep voice from behind you. Namjoon was looking at you, his hands casually in his pockets, his dimples indenting his cheeks from his smile as you met his eyes.

“Hey there,” you said, giving him a small wave. He let out a loud laugh at your timidness.

“Come here already,” he said, wrapping you snugly into his embrace. You looked over his shoulder, seeing Hoseok leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, his arms crossed against his chest intimidatingly, brows furrowed. You gulped.

Namjoon must have felt you tense in his arms, letting you go with a confused look on his face. He followed your gaze to where Hoseok was standing, and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, murmuring to you that you should probably go talk to him.

You took a tentative step forward.

“Hello, Hoseok,” you said, the name foreign on your lips. Your friendship with Hoseok had always been full of laughter and sunshine; there was hardly a time you used his full name rather than an affectionate nickname.

“Y/N,” he acknowledged with a nod. Ah, so he was going to be the one who gave you “the talk.”

“Maybe we should go…catch up?” you suggested, glancing behind you at the flurry of movement in the kitchen. Namjoon, Jin, and Jungkook were desperately trying to look like they weren’t paying attention to the tense energy radiating between you and Hoseok right now. You wondered briefly where Yoongi was, not having seen him in the apartment yet, but you figured it was best to get this part of the evening out of the way first before you saw him.

Hoseok didn’t say anything, so you took it as an invitation to follow him when he turned on his heel and walked toward a room down the hallway. You closed the door softly behind you, waiting for the harsh words to come out of his mouth.

“I apologize for putting you in this situation. I know this is awkward, to say the least,” you admitted. “I’m sure you aren’t thrilled that I’m here. The past couple of days were a bit of a shock to me, too.” Hoseok took a deep breath, a frown gracing his normally happy features.

“I certainly never expected to see you again, especially when Yoongi came back upset because he talked to you.” You grimaced at the thought of how sad and angry Yoongi must have been to warrant this reaction from his best friend and bandmate. If he was in a similar state to you after your conversation about your past, you knew it had been bad. “The last time he was that upset, it was because you weren’t returning his calls because you dropped off the face of the earth. He said you didn’t even tell him where you went. I stayed up with him at night a lot, you know. Back then. I’ve never seen him like that. I certainly don’t ever want to see him like that again. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You looked down at the ground, your eyes burning.

“Yes,” you breathed. You were so quiet, you wondered if he had heard you at all.

“If you make the choice to come back into his life–into our lives–you have to promise me, you’ll never leave him like that again,” Hoseok said, his voice the most serious you had ever heard it.

“I can’t walk away again, Hoseok. It would hurt me too much,” you made eye contact with Hoseok, his jaw clenched with emotion. “If he wants me to stay, I’ll stay. If he wants me to go, I promise you won’t have to see me or think about me ever again.”

Hoseok visibly deflated in front of you at your confession, his jaw unclenching.

“In that case, welcome back, Y/N.” You almost started crying in relief at his words. You knew that you weren’t going to just go back to how things were with any of the boys right away, but this was a start.

“Thank you, Hobi,” you said, voice cracking with relief. He seemed to relax at the familiar name.

“Now come on, Yoongi won’t be happy that I stole you away,” Hobi said, heading back to the kitchen. The boy in question was sitting on a kitchen stool, looking grumpy.

“Hey, hyung, were you looking for someone?” Hobi said teasingly. Yoongi’s head snapped toward his voice, his face lighting when he saw you.

“You came.”

“You invited me, didn’t you?” you said, walking closer to him, brushing your hand gently against his where it rested on his knee. His fingers instinctively trapped yours.

“Are you two going to sit there and make lovey eyes at each other all night, or can we eat?” Jin teased.

You squeezed Yoongi’s fingers, grateful for how easy it was for the eldest member to break the tension in any situation.

You felt right at home.

---

Your sides hurt from laughing so much at dinner. You had watched and tried to keep up with the boys’ antics, smile never leaving your face, your knee brushing against Yoongi’s more times than you could count.  

Yoongi gallantly walked you back to your own apartment door in the building after you hugged all of the members goodbye, thanking them for dinner. Hobi held you for an extra second longer than the rest, seeming to want to move on from the tense conversation the two of you had earlier. Not that you could blame him for being protective of his best friend and brother.

You and Yoongi stood in front of the open apartment door, and you were trying to figure out how to say goodnight to him. It was late, and the two of you had had an inordinately long day, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to say goodbye to him just yet.

Yoongi beat you to it.

“I’m glad you were able to come to dinner tonight,” Yoongi started. “I know that you’d probably rather be at home instead of having to spend the next couple of nights here though.”

“It’s okay, it’s not so bad,” you caved.

“No?” Yoongi took a step forward, his presence engulfing you. “And why is that?”

He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You felt your knees start to buckle before you caught yourself. He leaned into you, his breath fanning out across your lips. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling. He was mere inches away from connecting his lips to yours.  

“You,” you whispered. You waited, expecting to feel his lips on yours, but he pulled back at the last second.

“I should warn you, Y/N–if we start this again, I’m not letting you go. Not this time.”

The fear of being featured on the Twitter trending page and having your picture splashed on magazine covers seemed to take over your mind at the implication of his words. You decided to shove them aside, focusing instead on the man who occupied your thoughts for the past year.

“Then don’t,” you finally said. “Don’t let me go.”

His lips connected with yours, hands finding purchase on your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers slipping into his soft, dark hair. He walked you backward into the apartment, closing the door behind him. Once you heard the click of the door, you knew you had solidified your choice.

You chose him.

Part 4 // Part 6

---

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[inevitableconfusion]

Thank you all so much for your response to part one - it’s been incredible!! This turned into an actual beast (I’m talking like 10 pages in microsoft word for just this part) so I have to split it up again. The final chapter will be up by the end of the week! We’re gonna end this thing on a happy note, you guys!!

All Left AU - fanfiction | part one | part two (here) | part three Creator of the au: @sabertoothwalrus​ (Here’s the post that started it all - cw: blood, gore)

Read on ao3

He wakes up on a Tuesday.

It starts out slowly, like waking up from a deep sleep that keeps trying to pull him back in. There are voices, quiet and calm, from somewhere near his feet. There’s a rhythmic beeping off to his left. Something tickles his nose, and it takes him a second to realize there’s a tube on his face. Beyond the tube, he smells antiseptic and soap, and recognition slowly sets in.

A hospital. He’s in a hospital. He takes a big breath, and lets out a groan.

A chair scrapes against the floor and footsteps hurry across the room. There’s a gentle hand on his cheek. “Adrien?”

His eyelids are heavy, but he manages to blink his eyes open, squinting against the fluorescent light. His sight is fuzzy at first, but there’s a familiar blue gaze above him, and everything starts coming back to him all at once. The fight. Hawkmoth. The wish.

“Ma-” he breaks into a coughing fit, voice scratchy and dry from disuse. Sabine appears with a glass of water and they help him sit up, tipping the rim gently against his lips. The water is cold and soothing, and he takes several long, grateful gulps until the glass is empty.

Before he can try to speak again, Tom comes back into the room with the doctor. “Mister Agreste, glad to see you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” he croaks and clears his throat. “How long was I out?”

“About a week.” He jolts. A week? “Miss Dupain-Cheng, could you please step into the hallway? I need to ask him a few questions while he’s awake.”

Marinette seems to hesitate, but the doctor reassures her that it will only be a few minutes, and she eventually nods before turning back to him. “I’ll be right outside, okay? As soon as he’s done, I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” he whispers. Her eyebrows scrunch up a bit and she hesitates again, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. He squeezes back, and she turns and follows her parents out of the room. Everything feels a little colder as soon as she’s gone.

The doctor pulls over a laptop stand and slips some reading glasses over his nose. “Are you feeling any pain, Mr. Agreste?”

“No.” He doesn’t feel anything, actually. He looks down at his lap, where his left hand is fiddling with the hospital blanket, an IV taped against his wrist and an oxygen monitor clamped on his finger. He can see thick white bandages in the corner of his eye, peeking out from under the sleeve hanging off his right shoulder. “Just… a little sore.”

“That’s okay,” the doctor says, “soreness is to be expected. But if you start feeling lots of pain, tell me or the nurses and we can give you a stronger medication.” He pauses, taking his glasses off and looking Adrien in the eye for the first time since he entered the room. His expression is solemn and his voice is quiet, almost apologetic. “We tried our best to save your arm, but the damage was too extensive. The bone had been crushed in a couple of different areas and some of the nerves and blood vessels were pretty badly frayed –”

The words fade into the background as his mind flashes back to that day with excruciating clarity. The musty smell of the lair. His mother in a glass coffin. Hawkmoth charging at him with terrifying speed. Pain and more blood than he’s ever seen before, screaming, a flash of light as he de-transformed, his arm –

The doctor’s hand on his shin snaps him back to reality. The beeping of the heart monitor has picked up noticeably, so he closes his eyes and takes deep, shaky breaths until it slows down to a more acceptable pace.  “Mr. Agreste, are you alright?”

He winces at the name. “Please, call me Adrien.” There’s a stinging behind his eyes and he can’t bring himself to look at the doctor, instead choosing to stare off to the side.

After a pause, the doctor slowly straightens back up. “I… I apologize, Adrien. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He doesn’t say anything in response; the sound of typing fills the room. A few inconsequential questions later, and the doctor leaves as quickly as he came in.

Marinette walks in as soon as the doctor is gone, just as she promised, nervously fiddling with something in her hands. She takes a seat on the edge of the bed, bites her lip for a second, and then holds out her hand to him. He takes a sharp breath. The silver ring shines beautifully even in the cold light of the hospital room. He can feel it calling out to his soul, an invisible siren song pulling him forward.

“I wanted to make sure you got this back. If… if you want it.”

He reaches out tentatively. The metal is surprisingly warm, cradled safely in the palm of her hand. He blinks back tears, curling his fingers around the miraculous. “Thank you, Marinette.”

She lets out the breath she was holding. “Here, I’ll…” she trails off, gently grabbing his hand so she can slip the ring on his finger. Her hands are shaking. Even after the ring is in place, her touch lingers, clearly lost in thought. It must be a painful memory for her, too.

He threads his fingers between hers and squeezes their palms together. Thank you. She offers a small, sad smile and squeezes back before letting go. Everything feels a little more right in the world.

She reaches up and touches her earring. “Plagg and Tikki… all of the kwamis have been dormant since… for the past two weeks. I don’t think they’re gone forever, but I don’t know when…”

She trails off and he frowns, his thumb tracing the underside of the silver band. Plagg is gone. Maybe not forever, but probably for a while, at least. He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

He curls his hand into a fist. “And… and fa – Hawkmoth?”

She takes a moment to speak, as if trying to figure out how to answer him. “He… he’s in a coma. Here in the hospital.” Another beat of silence. “Do you want to see hi-”

“No,” he cuts her off. He doesn’t want to see that man. He doesn’t want to see him ever again.

Marinette doesn’t say anything in response, but he knows she understands. Of all people, she would understand. She gently touches his hand, uncurling his fist into something looser, and he relaxes. He’s always found comfort in her touch – from both sides of her. Marinette. Ladybug. Two of the most important people in his life, now one.

“How many people know about our identities now?”

She frowns, and he notices for the first time just how exhausted she looks. Like she hasn’t slept the entire week since the fight. “Everyone.”

“What?” His stomach drops. Everyone?

“The… when the ambulance came, so did the police.” Her voice is thick and she grips his hand tighter. “I guess your father confessed when he called, because they knew, somehow. They just – they saw me, and then they saw you, and I didn’t – I couldn’t –” A tear slips down her cheek, but she blinks quickly and wipes it away. “And then the media caught wind, and it was just… chaos.” She closes her eyes, her voice a broken whisper. “There were so many people.”

Everyone. They all know who he is. Who they are. They all know what happened. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. He feels so lost. But then, he feels the weight of the ring on his finger – solid, smooth, and real. She gave it back to him. And she still has her earrings.

That… that has to mean something, right?

He looks at her carefully. “So, what do we do?”

She sniffles and opens her eyes. Her expression is firm. Steady. Determined. And even through the tears, it’s just so Ladybug. “We face it, together.”

Adrien’s heart stutters. Together. He lifts his hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing over the soft skin under her eye. He swallows the lump in his throat. “For the record, I’m really glad it’s you.”

Her brows scrunch up and she takes a shaky breath. She lifts a hand to cover his, pressing it against her cheek. “I’m glad it’s you, too.”

He gives her a watery smile, feeling his own tears well up. “It’s you and me against the world, m’lady.”

“Always,” she whispers.

He feels his face crumble as everything comes crashing down. She throws her arms around him, pulling him closer, hugging him tighter, until there’s no space between them. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, finally letting out all of the emotions he’s been holding back.

He’s alive. She’s alive. They made it.

.

.

His father dies on a Thursday.

It doesn’t really come as a shock; he’s been waiting for the news since he first woke up two days ago. The doctors have been doing everything they can to keep him alive, but Adrien knew that nothing would help in the end. The wish saved his life, so it would take his father’s. The universe has to balance out, and nothing can change that.

What does come as a shock is information that he’s given directly after.

His head shoots up, eyes wide. “Nathalie is missing?” He hadn’t even thought to ask about Nathalie, given everything that’s been going on.

Officer Raincomprix pauses, then slowly closes his notepad. “We… have reason to believe that Miss Sancouer was working with Hawkmoth, under the name ‘Mayura’.”

“What?!” Marinette shrieks, leaping to her feet so quickly that her chair knocks over. “Why are we just being told this now?”

The officer holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry, but since you can’t turn into Ladybug and Chat Noir right now, we could not risk having you try to go after her. It seems Ms. Sancoeur has fled the country, but we are doing everything we can to track her down and bring her back. Justice will prevail in the end!”

“She has a miraculous! We don’t know when they’re going to become active again, so the fact that she’s still out there means she’s still dangerous! And now that she knows our identities, don’t you think she’s going to come after us first?”

“Not to worry. By then, we’ll either have her locked up, or you’ll be Ladybug again. Either way, it wouldn’t be smart for her to try anything.”

“I am still Ladybug. And you have a duty to-”

“Wait!” Adrien shouts, interrupting them both. There’s a strange mix of cold emptiness and white-hot rage boiling up inside him. He feels his body shaking. “Wait. Did Gorilla know about this, too?”

Officer Raincomprix’s eyebrows furrow. “Who?”

“The Gorilla! My bodyguard!”

“Oh. No, he has been cleared of all involvement and released.”

Adrien rubs his eyes and then pinches the bridge of his nose, doing his best to hold off the sudden, unwelcome tears building up. “Okay. So, two out of the three people living in my house were secretly trying to hurt me for years. Got it. Cool.”

“Ad-”

“I need a moment,” he snaps, and then sighs and softens his tone. “Please.”

They are quiet for a few seconds, and the policeman offers his thanks for their time before leaving, closing the door with a soft click. Adrien still has his eyes closed, but he can feel Marinette’s concerned gaze on him.

“Are you okay?”

His shoulders sag, feeling heavier and heavier as the day goes on. He leans back against the pillows on his bed and stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t feel like crying anymore, he just feels tired. “It’s… a lot to take in.” He rolls his head to the side and gives her an apologetic look.

Sometimes he’s thankful that she can read him so well. She offers a gentle smile and grabs his hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m gonna head home a little early today. See if you can get some rest before your therapy session, alright? I’m only a text away.”

She starts to pull away, but before she can get too far, he tugs her hand closer and kisses her knuckles. Thank you.

She stares for a bit too long, and he realizes belatedly that that was a very Chat Noir thing to do. Warmth crawls up his neck and over his cheeks, but there’s a fondness on her face that he’s not used to seeing. “See you tomorrow, kitty.”

Silence fills the room after she leaves, and it would be enough to drive him crazy if he had the energy to think. Instead, he lies back and closes his eyes.

  Father is dead.

He wakes up in a cold sweat. Just as quickly as the thought comes, the memory of whatever nightmare he was having fades into nothing. He’s not sure how long he managed to sleep. A few minutes? A few hours?

A gentle knock on the door tells him it was the latter. It’s time for his therapy session. He’s not ready. He’s never ready.

The physical therapy they’ve been having him do every day has been tough. His muscles are sore from a week of being unconscious, and his right shoulder hurts with even the barest movement. He has to re-learn how to do everything with only one arm – going to the bathroom, carrying large items, writing with his non-dominant hand. Even the once-simple act of tying his shoes or buttoning a shirt has left him in frustrated tears a few times.

Yet, the emotional therapy is so much harder. It’s difficult to turn his jumble of thoughts into words, much less coherent ideas that he can then dissect and analyze. And every time the counselor tries to bring up his father, he completely shuts down. Progress is slow and mentally taxing, and tonight is no different.

He finishes his dinner in a daze and Louise – one of his nurses – comes in. She sets his empty plate to the side and starts unwrapping the bandages on his arm to check on the stitches. She tries to make small-talk, but Adrien only answers half-heartedly, and eventually the conversation peters out. He feels a little bad; she’s a very kind lady, but he just doesn’t have the energy to talk. All he wants to do now is sleep.

After re-wrapping the bandages, Louise pulls an envelope out of the pocket of her scrubs and wordlessly hands it to him. He takes it, tossing her a questioning glance. “It’s a get-well-soon letter.” She picks up the dinner tray and gives him a small smile. “We thought it might make you feel better.”

She walks out of the room and he stares down at the letter, debating with himself. The exhaustion wins out in the end and he sighs, setting the unopened letter on the bedside table. He’ll get to it tomorrow.

.

.

The funeral is on a Friday.

His Aunt Amelie has insisted on have at least a bare-bones ceremony, because even though no one wants to honor the man who’d terrorized Paris for the past three years, she still wants the people close to him to have the opportunity to say their proper goodbyes. And by people, she means him.

Adrien doesn’t want to go, but his counselor thinks it could be cathartic, an opportunity to get everything off his chest. The hospital releases him an hour before the funeral starts, and even in death, he realizes he’s still stuck under his father’s thumb.

When he walks into the lobby, Gorilla is sitting by the door, and he feels a flood of relief. The man stands as soon as he spots Adrien, and his stoic face melts into something softer before engulfing him in a hug.

Gorilla isn’t officially his bodyguard anymore. He isn’t being paid; he has no obligation to be here. He has the right to uproot his life and start fresh somewhere new. Adrien wouldn’t blame him if he did. And yet, here he is.

It… it means a lot.

They step out of the doors together and are immediately swarmed by the paparazzi, the sound of inaudibly shouted questions and incessant camera shutters filling the air. Thankfully, Gorilla manages to mostly block his body from view, and they’re in the car just a few steps later.

The funeral itself is nothing to marvel at. A small church that he’s never set foot in, a simple urn, a wreath of flowers next to a picture of his father. It’s the only photo he’s ever seen with his father smiling; a family portrait from when he was a child. A happy, loving family that’s long since disappeared. The pews are almost empty, since very few people were allowed to attend. Not that many wanted to attend, anyway. He sits alone at the back, eyes scanning over the rest of the guests as the organ music drones on and on. The priest is kneeling off to the side, dutifully entranced in prayer. His aunt and cousin are in the second row; Andre and Audrey Bourgeois in the middle section; Roger Raincomprix and Gorilla standing guard at the doors. And that’s it. The only people in the world who cared about his father, all gathered in one room. Not a teardrop in sight.

He slouches in his seat, very aware of how much he does not want to be here. But someone sits down next to him, and he jumps. There, wearing a simple black dress, blonde hair in a sleek updo, looking like she’s halfway to tears, is Chloe Bourgeois.

“Chloe?” he whispers, unable to hide his shock at her presence. He hasn’t seen Chloe in… months. At least three or four months, probably. Not since he’d confronted her about her increasingly cruel behavior, and she’d subsequently cut him out of her life.

But here she is, eyes locked on the dangling sleeve of his suit jacket. Without a word, she reaches out and touches the sleeve, slowly closing her hand around it, as if afraid to see if it was truly empty. It is empty, of course. The realization seems to hit her hard, and she clasps her other hand to her mouth to muffle a gasp. She looks up at him, mascara already starting to run down her cheeks. “Adrien, I’m so sorry.”

It’s a little weird. Chloe’s become almost a caricature of herself over the years, really leaning into her mean-girl attitude, especially after cutting Adrien out. So, it’s strange to see her be so… vulnerable now. The way she’s looking at him, it reminds him of the girl he used to know growing up; the girl who shared her teddy bear when he cried, who played with him when he was lonely, who always stood up for him whenever his father was angry. Something like hope sparks in his chest, seeing her now. Maybe, just maybe, his friend isn’t totally gone after all. Maybe she just needs a friend, too. Someone to pull the old her out of this new shell.

He feels the corner of his mouth lift a little. “I lost an arm, Chloe. I didn’t die.” She wipes away her tears, taking a moment to compose herself. “I thought you hated my father?”

“I didn’t come here for him,” she scoffs. “I came here to support you, Adrikins.”

That’s… actually touching. A small, fond smile tugs at his lips. “Thanks, Chlo. It means a lot that you’re here.”

She faces the front and rests her head on his shoulder – a brief, silent show of solidarity. He rests his head against hers in response, and when the organ music cuts out, they both sit up straight. The priest walks to the front and begins the service with a solemn “Thank you all for coming,” and Adrien has to fight not to scowl. He wouldn’t have come if he’d had the choice.

Marinette plops down at his other side, slightly out of breath. “Sorry I’m late, the police almost didn’t let me in.”

He ducks his head closer to her, feeling significantly more at-ease. “That’s okay. I’m glad you made it.”

She takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. But she stiffens when her eyes lock onto something over his shoulder, and he realizes with some apprehension that she’s caught sight of Chloe. The two girls are staring each other down, and the air that hangs between them is so thick that he’s almost choking on it. But the tension breaks when Chloe gives her a curt nod, and Marinette nods back in some sort of weird understanding, and they face the front again.

The sermon is as short and to-the-point as it can be, but it still feels like it drags on. Marinette holds his hand the entire time, and it’s the only thing that keeps him from disassociating. When the priest asks if anyone would like to come up and say a few words, Adrien stays silent.

Afterward, as people are leaving, the priest offers the urn to him. He tries to refuse, but Aunt Amelie suggests that he take the urn to the mansion and spread his father’s ashes in the garden, next to the statue of his mother. And well… it’s as good an idea as any.

The ride to the mansion is silent. It’s just him and Gorilla now, and his bodyguard was never much of a talker. Not that he feels like talking, anyway. Adrien looks down at the urn resting in his lap, and frowns. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to his father, aside from that day. He can’t even remember the last time his father had hugged him. And here he is, cradling his ashes gingerly, as if he – as if he cares.

Gorilla stays in the car while he steps out, choosing to walk around the exterior to get to the garden. He doesn’t dare step foot inside the mansion. The last time he was here… well, it wasn’t a good memory. He didn’t have a lot of good memories here, actually. At least not after his mother died.

And his mother wasn’t really gone, it turns out. She had been in the basement for years, frozen in some sort of awful cryo-sleep. She was always there, waiting in limbo; while father was torturing him, and his friends, and all of Paris; while his house – the place where he was supposed to feel safest – became a prison; while his only remaining parent cut his arm off… all in the name of bringing her back.

Adrien sets the urn on the grass and takes off the lid. It really is a beautiful urn. It’s a shame it holds such an evil man.

He picks up the urn with only a little difficulty and starts spreading the ashes as best as he can, taking care to keep them close to his mother’s statue so it won’t harm the other plants. Now – now he can be with his wife for eternity. It’s what he wanted, isn’t it? Never mind his son, never mind that he still had family – all that mattered was bringing his wife back from the dead.

All of the love Adrien had for his father, all this time… it was all one-sided. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. The empty urn drops onto the grass with a dull thud.

He’d done everything his father had asked. For years, he’d done everything – things he didn’t want to do – piano, fencing, Chinese lessons, homeschooling, modeling, all of it. He was left to grieve his mother alone, he was isolated in his home, he was kept from having friends and seeing other family; all while working sun up to sun down, until he was exhausted to the bone, and even then being pushed to do more. And despite it all, he tried his best to be the perfect well-behaved son that his father expected him to be. He – he’d tried so hard just to get a little praise, a little attention, a little love, but he never did.

His father had been so blinded by his goal of resurrecting his wife, that he failed to realize that he still had a son. He had his son, right there, hurting and in need of a father when it mattered most. And he hurt him further. Adrien wanted love, and all he ever got was pain, pain, pain.

No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, it was never enough. He was never enough.

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the tears drip onto his hand. He wipes roughly at his cheeks, but they just keep coming. He’s crying – why is he crying over this? Over this person, this person who caused him so much anguish? This person who was supposed to love him?

He feels stupid for crying. He feels angry.

Why?

The question he wanted to ask his father as he slipped out of consciousness. The question he will never truly know the answer to.

Why?

A wave of grief crashes over him, knocking him to his knees. He curls in on himself, ribs pressing into his legs so hard that he can barely breathe.

Why?

Because despite it all, despite everything, he couldn’t hate his father. He wanted to, god, he wanted to. He wanted to be able to move on, to carve out all memory of him and live the rest of his life in peace, to say he hated the man who had cut off his arm and ruined his life. Yet, he can’t. He can’t erase the memories of playing in the garden with his mother and father, laughing in the sunshine, his father smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world. He can’t shake off the ghost of his father’s arms, circling him in a hug when he got home from his first day at school. He can’t unsee the panic, the regret, the tears dripping from his father’s face after he de-transformed. His father was the only family he had left. Adrien had loved him so much, so unconditionally, for so long, that he – he didn’t know how to hate him.

Why didn’t you love me back?

Strong arms pull him off the ground and into a hug, and it just makes him cry harder. It’s like everything he’s been holding back, everything he’s been refusing to let himself feel, is all crashing out of him at once. The flood gates are open and there’s no turning back.

He’s angry, and he’s confused, and lonely, and sad, and relieved, and it’s just – it’s all too much.

“I was there, that day, before the ambulance came.”

It’s the first time Adrien has ever heard Gorilla speak, and it’s enough to startle him out of his thoughts. His voice is deep, but quiet.

“It took me a while to break into the room, but by the time I did, you were already unconscious. So was Gabriel, and Marinette was kneeling by your body. She looked so scared.”

Adrien pulls back and looks at Gorilla, sniffling and wiping at his eyes.

“She told me who she was,” he says, “and who you were, and who Gabriel was. She said that there was a wish – that, if you make a wish using two of the miraculous, it could save you. Your father knew this, and wouldn’t let Marinette make the wish herself. He was the only one who knew the incantation, and he refused to tell her unless she gave him the miraculous.”

What?

“She had no choice, so she gave them over. He made the wish, and then he collapsed.” Gorilla moves his giant hands to rest on Adrien’s shoulders. “Your father loved you. He was proud of you. I heard the way he talked about you when you weren’t around. He tried to do what was best for you, he just went about it the wrong way.” Gorilla pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “He wasn’t… a good man. But he did love you.”

Adrien’s gaze falls, a few fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. “I… I can’t forgive him.”

“You don’t have to. No one has to. What he did – especially what he did to you – was unforgiveable. But,” he tips up Adrien’s chin so he can look him in the eyes, “You can’t hold onto this anger forever. Your father couldn’t get over his grief, and that was what lead him down the wrong path. Negative emotions like this, they’re important to feel – they’re what make us human. But if we hold onto them for too long, they can turn us into monsters.”

A shiver runs up his spine. He doesn’t want to turn out like his father. He doesn’t want to be another monster that his father created. But he can’t… he doesn’t know how to move past this. Not when looking at his reflection, seeing his missing arm, is a daily reminder of what his father did to him. “How? How do I let it go?”

Gorilla pulls him into a gentle hug. “You do better. Be better than he was. Turn your anger around into something good. It’s okay if you don’t know how yet. You are the strongest person I know, Adrien. And you have all of us – your friends, and your family, and all of Paris – behind you, to help you. We’ll always be here, so don’t worry about facing this alone, because you are not alone.”

The words are a weight lifted off his chest, a warm fire melting the ice that has surrounded his heart since his mother died. You are not alone.

He closes his eyes and buries himself into Gorilla’s chest.

 That night, he’s the one to bring up the topic of his father in therapy. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

[haikyuu-appreciation-club]

Hey, I was hoping to get an emergency request? I’ve been depressed and had my heartbroken a bit, so I’m kinda staying up at night just having bursts of crying fits, and so I was wondering if I could have some hcs of how Tsukishima, Aone, Ushijima, and Daichi would treat their s/o if they spent the night with them when they were crying on and off through the night. Thanks, and feel free to delete this if it’s not something you wanna do x

hey there anon!

im so sorry to hear that love, remember that it is 100% okay to cry and that every single thing you’re feeling is valid <3

my messages are always open (and ask box is too if you prefer to stay anonymous) xoxo

I hope you enjoy our bbys showing you some much deserved love :)

•Tsukishima, Aone, Ushijima, and Daichi Comforting Their Crying S/O•

warnings: mentions of mental health issues

genre: comfort + fluff

characters: tsukishima, aone, ushijima, daichi

•Tsukishima•

tsukishima was usually very snarky and playful when it came to your relationship

back and forth bantering was how you two showed your affection for one another

but when tsukishima heard your soft cries from beside him he knew that this was a time where he had to be more cautious with his words,

“Hey, what's the matter with you?”

you turned to look at him, eyes puffy and red, with hot tears streaming down your cheeks

you swiped at your face and offered him a forced smile,

“I’m fine Kei, sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep.”

he didn’t miss the slight shake in your voice with your attempts to lighten the mood

he tsked and flicked your forehead,

“I’m not an idiot Y/N, why are you crying?”

you casted your eyes downward, too embarrassed to face your boyfriend

it’s not as if you didn’t think he’d care or you were too nervous to open up to him but you didn’t want him to view you as weak or troublesome,

“I guess I just haven’t been feeling the best lately. I’ve been getting sad more often than usual without a reason and I don't really know what to do.”

tsukishima looked at you as you tried to stop your lip from quivering

seeing you like this made his heart hurt

he always hated seeing you so upset but he wasn't always the best at reassuring you during your time of need

he sighed, more towards himself then you, and pulled you into him

“Kei wha-”

“Quiet,”

“But what are you-”

“Y/N, save me the embarrassment and just cuddle with me, will you?”

your eyes widened at his statement, it was very rare for tsukishima to initiate something like this 

but you didn’t complain, curling up next to him and wrapping your arms around his figure

soon after, the feeling of sadness washed over you once more as you tried to hold back your tears

you didn’t want to seem ungrateful by continuing your pity party

after all tsukishima practically leaped out of his comfort zone to help you 

however, as you shook lightly in tsukki’s hold you felt his arms that were encasing you give a soft squeeze,

“you can let it out, it’s just us Y/N.”

once those words met your ears tears began flowing down your cheeks all over again

tsukishima held you, running his slender fingers through your hair until you fell limp in his hold, slipping out of consciousness

once he knew you had fully drifted off to sleep he placed a kiss on your tear stained cheek,

“I love you.”

•Aone•

aone was a very light sleeper, so he didn’t miss the light whimpers that escaped your lips as you lied next to him

at first he didn’t really know what to think, maybe you were having a nightmare or something of the sort?

but when he heard a sob rack your body he knew that wasn’t the case

aone wasn’t one to freak out over things, he was very composed and calm even in difficult situations

so, as soon as he sensed something was wrong he didn’t hesitate to take initiative

sitting up and gently shaking your shoulder, he spoke in a soft voice,

“Y/N.”

you turned to face him and immediately he could make out the tears staining your cheeks

he was never one to use his words, choosing to stay quiet for a vast majority of the time, but you didn’t ever mind

his actions had always spoken so much louder then his words ever could

you knew how much he loved you, it was displayed with every single thing he did

and when he silently tugged at your hand, lifting you away from the covers and into his warm embrace, you felt his love all over again

he lightly rubbed your back as you continued to cry into his chest, your arms lazily returning the hug 

a part of you felt embarrassed being caught in such a vulnerable state but the way your boyfriend was caring for you washed away any feeling of unease

after a while, the soothing rhythm of aone’s large hand moving up and down your back brought you to a state of peace

however before the two of you drifted back off to sleep, aone tugged on your hand once more, pulling you out of the room

“Aone, where are we going?”

he didn’t answer you, just pointed in the direction of the front door

you were confused but figured it would just be simpler to comply with his unknown idea then to ask questions 

aone pushed open the door and the cool air met the exposed areas of your body

you shivered a bit as you watched your boyfriend sit down in front of you, staring up at the night sky

he looked back and patted the spot next to him, signaling for you to join him

as you sat down, aone wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, letting his body heat warm you up

the two of you sat there watching the stars in each other’s company

it was nights like these where you were truly grateful to have someone like aone in your life

•Ushijima•

ushijima was never exactly good at understand emotions or comforting others

so when he woke up to hear you softly sobbing beside him, he didn’t know how to react

his first instinct was to ask your upfront what was wrong but he had been told many times before that he was too blunt and he didn’t want to make things worse for you

so, he lied there trying to figure the best way to approach the situation

that was until he heard you get quieter and quieter, and soon enough your whimpers grew silent

he was confused at first but he figured you just had a nightmare and decided to approach you about it in the morning

after squirming around a bit, trying to get comfortable, he finally settled by your side with his large arm draped around your mid section

he always loved these nights with you, it gave him the opportunity to be in your company without the constant worry of conversation

he knew you didn’t mind his silence but the nagging from his teammates had made him a bit insecure about his quiet nature

so, being able to just lay down and enjoy your presence was definitely a favorite moment for him

he began to drift off into sleep until he heard your quiet cries once more, the sound leaving a pang in his chest

although he was not the best when it came to feelings, he did not want you to go through your issues alone, so he sat up and turned to you,

“Y/N, what is wrong?”

you flinched at the sudden sound of his voice, not realizing you had woke him up,

“Oh, sorry Toshi. I just had a bad dream, that’s all. Don’t worry you can go back to sleep.”

“You had been crying earlier as well. Is there something bothering you?”

you had tried to hid your emotions from your boyfriend for so long, but iit wasn't as if you didn’t trust him or didn’t want to confide in him

you just didn’t want to worry him or make him feel awkward about the whole situation, which is why you had been trying your best to muffle your sobs

but seeming as the whole plan back fired, you had no other choice but to come clean,

“It’s just, I’ve been feeling kind of off lately. I don’t know exactly why but I just feel sad,” 

you peered up at ushijima through damp lashes and watch as his brows furrowed at your words

quickly you cut the conversation short, already feeling as if you were bothering him,

“I’ll be okay though so don’t worry, lets lay back down, okay?”

you leaned back to snuggle into the covers when you felt ushijima grab your wrist

“Come with me.”

“Huh?”

he didn’t give you an answer as he hauled you out of bed and towards the bathroom

you sat yourself down on the floor as he kneeled in front of the tub, turning on the water and grabbing some bubble bath from under the counter

you watched as he prepared a bath, humming your favorite song subconsciously as he did so

soon enough he had finished, wiping his hands on his pants and turning towards you,

“Undress please.”

your cheeks flushed at how straight forward he was with his words but you complied none the less

once you had stripped yourself bare, he lightly grabbed your hand and helped you into the tub

he spent his time kneading your body, earning groans of satisfaction from you as he released the tension in your sore muscles

as he massaged some shampoo into your scalp he spoke up,

“I am not good with my words, you know this. But when I am feeling unpleasant, I enjoy relaxing like this. I hope you do as well.”

your heart melted at his statement

he always tried his best in your relationship, even though he was unfamiliar with the concept

“It feels really nice Toshi, I’m definitely feeling a lot better.”

“I’m glad Y/N.”

he paused his actions for a moment as he peered directly into your eyes,

“I love you very much.”

you smiled up at him as you brushed your fingers across his cheek,

“I love you too Toshi.”

•Daichi•

daichi had noticed something was a bit off with you this past week

you seemed quieter and less cheerful then normal

so it wasn’t a huge surprise to him when he woke up to you crying into your pillow

despite his anticipation, it still broke his heart to hear your soft whimpers as you clutched the fabric beneath you

daichi wasn’t one to hesitate when it came to comforting you

whenever you had been down he was always right there, ready to pull you into a tight embrace or place gentle kisses on your forehead

and tonight wasn't any different as he grabbed your shoulder and turned you so he could see your face

his fingers gently swiped across your cheek, collecting the tears that you had shed,

“Y/N, what's the matter?”

when it came to your boyfriend you had always felt this sense of comfort, even when you’d try to hide your emotions or go through things by yourself, he was always right there with you

so when he asked you that question you felt compelled to let him know the truth

“I-I don’t know. I just feel so empty and broken, I don't know what to do. I’m sorry Daichi.”

“Hey, there’s no need to be sorry babe. Life can get the best of us sometimes and I understand that. But remember Y/N, you aren't alone in all this. I'll be right by your side, always.”

you looked up at him and smiled at his words, letting out a soft hiccup as he cupped your face in his hands

“Do you wanna talk about it some more?”

you shook your head slowly

daichi brushed his thumb across your cheek and pulled you close, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead,

“Alright, do you wanna watch a movie?”

that suggestion received your immediate approval

you two always watched a movie at the end of your rough days, it was the perfect way to spend time with one another and get your minds off anything that had been bothering either one of you

you snugged up to daichi as the light from the laptop illuminated your faces

he wrapped his arms around you and placed a kiss to the top of your head,

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too Daichi.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[ladyfogg]

Heal My Wounds - Part 1

Heal My Wounds - Part 1 of 3

Fic Summary:  After you meet the infamous Kit Walker, you realize that he cannot possibly be guilty of everything they say he is. Determined to treat him with kindness and compassion, you end up falling hard for the handsome man with gorgeous dark eyes. But you both are playing a dangerous game and you must decide just how far you’re willing to go to save the man you love. Part 2. AHS Masterlist. 

Fic Rating: 18+

Fic Song: War by Poets of the Fall

Pairing: Kit Walker/Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, Slow Burn, tw: mental illness, tw: asylum setting, tw: violence

A/N: I ended up finishing this a lot quicker than I thought I was going to. Enjoy! For @tatestripedsweater​ and @kitwalker02​. 

You’ve seen many things during your time at Briarcliff. Being a nurse, you deal with truly awful alignments, either self-inflicted or acquired under “mysterious” circumstances. This usually means that a guard roughed the patient up or Dr. Arden can’t be bothered to treat them himself. You learn to expect the worst, not in the patient but in what they are afflicted with. In truth, your heart goes out to every one of them. Regardless of what sent them to Briarcliff, it is always your mission to treat them with the respect and dignity they deserve. 

Which is why, when you hear that the infamous Bloody Face, aka Kit Walker, has been transferred to the asylum, you try not to be concerned. You knew all about Bloody Face and what he’s done and when they arrested Kit, you aren’t ashamed to admit that your first thought was, “Good riddance!” However, you force yourself to change your tune once you learn you’ll be treating him at some point. Plenty of dangerous people had come and gone through Briarcliff’s doors. You aren’t going to treat him any differently than you would the other patients.

No matter how dangerous he is. 

It isn’t long before you find yourself face-to-face with him. He is there less than a day before he’s brought in to see you, his lip and his nose a bloody mess, the red a stark contrast to his pale skin. His appearance surprises you even though it shouldn’t. You read the papers; you’ve seen his face. Yet, in person, he’s so handsome it takes your breath away and you need a moment to compose yourself.

“What happened?” you ask Kit as the guard forces him to sit on the bed. He is bound with cuffs and chains, an overkill if you ever saw one. 

“He got into a scrape with another inmate,” the guard says in a gruff voice. “Bloody Face here got the worst of it.”

“They’re called patients, not inmates,” you correct him with a glare. “And I wasn’t asking you, I was asking Mr. Walker. That is his name, that's what he will be called while he’s under my care.”

The guard, whose name you think is Hardy, looks taken aback by your words. He is a new one who hasn’t had to deal with you yet. While many of the female staff are nuns, you are not. You are there purely for medical purposes, not religious ones. Therefore, you have no reason to force politeness to the guards. After all, why should you? They never show you any. The sooner Hardy learns you will not tolerate his bullshit, the better. 

You have been talked to by Sister Jude several times regarding your attitude but since you are appointed by the state, there is nothing more she can do. Eventually, the both of you came to a mutual understanding. In fact, you suspect she admires your non-nonsense attitude as it most often gets results. If there is a patient in your infirmary, you can call the shots. Of course, the male guards don’t like that, but they can get fucked. 

When you turn back at Kit, he has a surprised look on his face. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” you ask. 

“Just my face,” he answers. “And my hands.”

You glance down and see his bruises and bloody knuckles. Clearly, he defended himself but given the fact that the other patient hasn’t been brought it, you assume Kit got the worst of it. You go about collecting what you need to disinfect his wounds. 

To Hardy, you say, “Remove his chains.”

“No can do. Not for this one.”

“His knuckles are bleeding, and I need to examine his hands to make sure nothing is broken or fractured. Remove his chains.”

There is an intense stare-off between you and the guard before he relents and unbinds Kit. Once his restraints are gone, you wave Hardy off. “You may step outside.”

“Now hold on a minute! This man—”

“Has rights. He deserves the same privacy as every other patient. Besides, I won’t have you getting in my way while I patch him up. You can step outside and wait. I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

Hardy snorts, annoyed and done with arguing. “Fine by me. Don’t complain if you get killed.”

“I won’t, considering if that happens, I won’t be able to. Or are you not aware how death works?”

With a sneer, he stalks away, and you heard him mutter, “Stupid bitch.” under his breath.

“Smart bitch actually,” you call after him. “And shut the door on your way out, please.” It slams behind him and you return your attention to your patient. 

Kit looks at you with awe. “Forgive me for saying so, doc. But you’re one tough broad.”

You laugh, pulling a chair over so you can sit in front of Kit. “I’m not a doctor, I’m a nurse. And you have to be though, especially in this place. The gentle don’t last long. Now, let’s take a look at those hands.”

Kit extends his hands, and you take them in your own, examining his wounded knuckles. After moving each finger and his wrists, you determine there was nothing broken or fractured so you set about cleaning the scrapes. Kit watches you the entire time. Even though you don’t look up from your work, you can feel his eyes on you. 

“I think you’re the only person in this place who’s not afraid of me,” he says after a stretch of silence. “This is the first time I’ve been treated like a person since this whole thing started.”

“Should I be afraid of you, Mr. Walker?” you glance up and are immediately taken in by the soft expression on his face. 

“Call me Kit,” he says. “And I never hurt anybody. All the things they say I did are lies. I have no idea what happened to those girls and I have no idea what happened to Alma other than they took her.”

You consider his words for a moment and pull away, letting his hands fall to his lap. The bloody towel you hold is tossed onto your tray of supplies before you sit back and cross your arms. “Alright then, Kit. Tell me why I should believe you.”

Kit doesn’t seem to know what to say at first. You’ve dealt with numerous patients who swear up and down they didn’t do what they were accused of. Most of them had. Because of that, you are pretty damn good at reading people because even the best liar has a tell. An eye twitch, a knee bounce, a lip bite…anything. You trained yourself to look for these things because, in your line of work, it means the difference between life or death. 

The man in front of you doesn’t look like he’s hiding anything. More to the point, you don’t feel scared of him. You aren’t made of stone; you feel fear just like everyone else. You are simply better at masking it. However, that violent vibe you’ve learned to sense doesn’t radiate from Kit and as you look into his deep brown eyes, all you see is fear, frustration, anger, and sadness. They all pass one after another on a loop. 

“I don’t have a reason,” Kit finally says after a long pause. “If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t believe me either. But you showed me kindness no one else has and I’m grateful. Really.”

“I think this place wouldn’t be half as bad as those colleagues of mine showed a little kindness too.” You go back to work, cleaning his hands. “This is going to sting a bit.”

Kit flinches as you pour alcohol over his cuts. Carefully, you clean them some more before you are sure they won’t get infected. Once that’s done, you wrap them in bandages. 

“There, good as new. Just try to keep those bandages dry for a bit. You can take them off tomorrow to let the cuts breathe. Let me make sure your nose isn't broken.”

Kit remain still as you gently cup his face, turning his head left to right in order to take stock of his injuries. Being so close, you realize how handsome he truly is. That jawline is to die for, and his dark curls looks so soft, you want to run your fingers through them. Once that thought entered your brain, you scold yourself. He is your patient and is in the asylum to see if he is fit to stand trial for murder. Thinking about him in any way other than professional is a dangerous game. And very stupid.

“That bad huh?” Kit asks with a slight smirk. 

It isn’t a malicious one by any means. In fact, it’s almost hesitant. Like he is afraid to be so comfortable joking with you. You don’t blame him considering what he has gone through. You offer him a smile in return. 

“Just a split lip and it doesn’t look like your nose is broken. It’s not even swollen. There shouldn’t be any permanent damage.”

You grab a fresh towel and dip it in warm water before gingerly cleaning the blood from his face. But before you can get far, Kit reaches up to stop you. Instinctively you freeze, worried that you may have hurt him. Maybe his nose is worse off than you originally thought?

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

Kit shakes his head. “No, I’m just…” He pauses as if he’s not sure what to say next. “I’m sorry but I just...why aren’t you scared of me?"

“You really want me to be, don’t you?”

“What? No! Of course not. I’m just…” He stops when he sees you holding back a smile. “You’re messing with me.”

You shrug and go back to your work. “A little,” you admit. “But to answer your question, I’m not scared of you because I believe you. I don’t think you killed or even hurt anyone. I just don’t sense that sort of evil in you. As for what you claim to have witnessed, that I don’t know about. But I do know crazy, Kit Walker. And you’re not it.”

It is like the remaining tension leaves his body and Kit slumps against you, a few tears running down his cheeks. Without thinking, you pull him into a tight hug, letting him rest his weary head on your shoulder. The warmth of him is invigorating and you savor the feeling. It’s been a long time since you’ve been touched in any way. Long work hours make your social life non-existent and you carefully keep your distance with your patients.

Except Kit, it seems. You don’t know why your well-constructed walls are crumbling under the weight of one interaction with one man.

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” he says, his voice muffled by your uniform. “No one will listen. No one believes…”

“I’m listening. But first, sit back before you get blood all over me.”

With a weak laugh, Kit pulls away.  He wipes the tears with the back of his hand which you’re grateful for because you were about two seconds away from gently brushing them away. Pulling yourself together, you continue to clean his face while he tells you his story. It’s definitely strange. The idea of being abducted and probed was one you’d rather not think about.

But you don’t just listen to his words, you watch his expression, pay attention to the tone of his voice and his body language. Even though you’ve heard some of it through the papers, it’s different hearing it from him directly. Once he’s done, you’re even more certain he didn’t kill anyone. No one who talks about their missing wife that softly and heart felt could possibly be a vicious serial killer.

It’s his eyes that give him away. There’s so much emotion and depth, you can’t help but believe him. You wish you can explain it, but some things are beyond explanation.

“You sure I’m not crazy?” Kit asks when you don’t respond to him right away.

“After that story, you’re absolutely batshit.”

He chuckles when he realizes you aren’t serious. You pull your hand away, finally done getting rid of all the blood, but he stops you with a gentle touch to your wrist. “Thank you for listening. I could tell you weren’t judging when I spoke, and I appreciate it. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

“It’s not my place to judge. Only heal.” You sit back, breaking all contact with him, hoping it’ll clear your spinning head.  “There. Now you’re just as handsome as you were before. Do me a favor and at least try not to get majorly hurt again for the rest of the day?”

“He started it.”

“Everyone always starts things here. And given your current situation, it’s best to keep your head down as much as possible.”

“What’s the point? They’ve already made up their minds about me being guilty,” Kit says bitterly as you roll your tray over to the sink. He sees a pack of cigarettes on your desk and nods towards them. “Mind if I have one?”

You wave for him to go ahead as you clean up. “I wish I had words of encouragement for you. I wish I could say it will all work out. But unless they catch the real Bloody Face, your choices are either here or the electric chair.”

Kit pops a cigarette in his mouth and lights the end. “I have to see the state-appointed shrink. My last hope is to convince some head doctor that I’m not crazy.”

Your heart goes out to him. His situation really is a double-edged sword. If he proves he isn’t crazy, then they are sure to send him to trial and his death. If he keeps spouting off about strangers abducting him and his wife, then they will keep him at Briarcliff. Either way, he loses. It isn’t fair. 

“Stick to your story,” you tell him. “If it’s really the truth and that’s really what you know happened, then stick to it. I mean, it’ll probably get you confined here for life. But at least you’ll be alive.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?”

You don’t get to respond. The door bursts open and Sister Jude strolls in with Hardy right behind her. You wonder how long he waited outside before running to tattle on you.

“Why is this patient not restrained?” she asks in that stern voice of hers. 

“I needed to clean his hands and couldn’t very well do that when they were bound,” you say. “He’s all set now.”

“In the future, I would appreciate it if you would leave the door open. No young woman should be alone with this one,” Sister Jude says, motioning to Kit. “Not until he’s been properly medicated.”

“He deserves just as much privacy as any of us do when being medically treated.”

“Not here. Not under my roof,” Sister Jude counters. “I like you, girl, but don’t push me on this. Kit Walker may have the looks of an angel but he’s far from it.”

“She didn’t do nothing wrong,” Kit says angrily.

Sister Jude motions for Hardy to grab Kit. Anger courses through your veins when you see how he is manhandled. “Hey, be careful! I don’t want to have to treat a dislocated shoulder,” you say.

Kit sends you a grateful smile which Sister Jude unfortunately notices. She steps up to him and in a low voice says, “Quit your leering! You don’t fool me, Kit Walker. You can keep spouting that innocent act all you’d like but I know there’s darkness in your soul.”

Kit’s body tenses and you see him clench his fists in anger. The nun yanks his cigarette out of his mouth and puts it out on your desk. 

What a bitch.

As he is led away, Kit dares to look back at you and you see the glimmer of another smile before he is gone. The empty room suddenly seems more so without him there. It’s strange how comfortable you feel around him, especially considering the circumstances. After cleaning up the remnants of his cigarette, you sit back at your desk. But focusing is not in the cards for you. The rest of the day, you find yourself constantly sidetracked by the handsome brown-haired man with the deep brown eyes. So much so that you get angry with yourself.

You are hardly ever swayed by just a pretty face. Then again, there’s more to Kit than that. Although, it certainly helps. The way he stood up for you even when he was in trouble spoke volumes about who he is a person. You don’t think there is a selfish bone in that man’s body.

The next day during meds, you don’t see him in the Day Room with the others. It suddenly occurs to you that after the fight the day before, he probably was thrown in solitary. You hate solitary being used for any of your patients but the thought of Kit in a small dark room, bound and alone makes your heart break in your chest. All you can do is hope he’ll be out of there soon. 

At least three days pass before you see him again, mostly because you spend most of that time in the infirmary rather than in the common areas. It’s early morning and you are enjoying a rare moment of silence when the door opens, and Kit is led in. He’s bleeding from a cut on his forehead, which has already begun to bruise and swell. 

“What happened?” you demand as you leap to your feet. 

The guard, a brute named Dixon who you can’t stand, forces Kit onto one of the beds. “He slipped and fell.”

You doubt it. Your eyes slide over to look at Kit, who gives you a subtle shake of his head. “Oh really?” you ask Dixon, narrowing your eyes in distrust. “This seems like a pretty big bump just to happen from a slip.”

“Just treat him so I can get him back with the others,” Dixon orders. 

“He hit his head. I’m going to have to keep him here for a few hours to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.”

“Fine.” Dixon shoves Kit until he was laying on the bed. When he reaches for the restraints, Kit fights back. 

“No! Let me go!” Kit struggles against him.

“Those aren’t necessary,” you declare, crossing the room to try to stop Dixon. 

But the guard isn’t having any of it. The next thing you know, he pushes you away, hard enough that you trip over your feet and fall right on your ass.

“You son of a bitch!” Kit exclaims. He leaps up and punches Dixon square in the jaw.  

What happens next is a flurry of blows and swears as the men fight each other. Knowing this can only end poorly for Kit, you manage to get back up before prying the two apart. “Enough!” you snap. “No fighting in my infirmary!”

Dixon is practically snarling as he wipes blood from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t scare me, Bloody Face. If I had my way, you’d be in the furnace by now.”

Kit makes a move to go at him, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “Mr. Walker, lay down so Dixon can bind you. If you don’t, I know the right injection that’ll make you so tired, you’ll wake up next week.”

Kit’s eyebrows knit together as he looks at you with concern. You throw him a subtle wink. Breathing heavily, he sits back on the bed and allows Dixon to restrain him. Even though it pains you to do so, you help to keep up appearances. But you don’t tighten them as much as you should. Kit’s jaw is clenched as he watches Dixon’s movements, as if he’s waiting for him to attack again.

Once Kit is secured, you reach into your pocket. Unbeknownst to the guards, you carry around a sharpened scalpel for your own protection and the second Dixon lets his guard down, you press it to his neck, making him halt his movements.

“Listen here, you sick fuck,” you growl. “If you ever lay a hand on me again, I’ll shove this so far into your neck you’ll have to take your meals through a tube. Are we clear?”

Dixon sneers and takes a step back. “Whatever you say, woman. Call us when this psycho is ready to go back to his cell. And I’d be careful who you threaten. You wouldn’t want to end up like one of your patients, now would you?”

His threats send a chill down your spine, but you keep your hand steady, the scalpel still pointed at him as he backs away. It’s not until he’s out the door that you cross the room so you can lock it behind him.

“Are you alright?” Kit asks the moment it’s clear the two of you are alone.

You cross the room, pocketing the sharp instrument as you go. “I’m fine, Kit. Don’t worry about me.” As quick as you can, you undo his bindings. “Sorry about this. I fucking hate using bindings, but it was the only way to get Dixon to leave. He’s got a nasty streak in him; I’d stay clear if I were you. Are you okay? What happened to your head?”

“That asshole smashed my face into the wall,” he says as he sits up, rubbing his wrists. “He caught me wandering out of the Day Room.”

“Now why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” you ask, hands on your hips. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your head down?”

“I just needed some peace and quiet. On my own terms and not in a dark dirty cell. Besides, others wander. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because the others aren’t wanted for murder. They mean to make an example out of you, Kit.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

You sigh and head to the icebox in the corner of the room. As you put together an icepack for him, you say, “These guards will look for any excuse to get rough. And they especially have it out for you. You have to be careful.”

“I hate this. I hate all of it. I feel like I’m going crazy. My head is so cloudy, and I can barely feel anything.”

“Those are the meds. Meant to keep you docile.” You carry the ice pack over to him along with supplies to fix up his head wound. “And suppress other impulses.”

“It’s inhumane, that’s what it is.” Kit barely makes a face as you clean the cut and dress it. “How am I supposed to defend myself if I don’t even feel like me? I think I’m slipping, doc.”

“I told you, I’m not a doctor.”

“Well, what should I call you then? You never gave me your name.”

You tell him your name and press the icepack to the bump on his head, “Here, hold this. Your nose is bleeding…again.”

Kit does as he’s told. After a moment, he says your name. It’s soft and beautiful coming from his lips and you can barely focus long enough to hear his question. “Can I confess something to you?”

“I’m no priest or nun.” You start to dab at his nose with a damp towel.

“It’s not that kind of confession. I wasn’t just wandering for the sake of wandering. I was trying to come see you.”

You pause, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes flickering up to meet his. “Why?”

“I feel safe here.”

You go back to your work. “I’m glad you do, but I don’t want you to get yourself hurt just to see me.”

“I didn’t know that asshole was gonna beat the shit out of me just for wandering.”

“Say you have cramps.”

Kit raises his eyebrow. “What?”

“If you want to see me…I mean, come to the infirmary, tell a guard or one of my assistants that you have cramps or a stomachache. It’s something most people don’t question since stomach stuff is really common, ‘specially around here. It usually comes with vomiting or diarrhea and no one wants to deal with that.”

Kit smiles. “Good to know.”

You finish cleaning him up and add, “But don’t overuse the excuse. Otherwise, if something is really bothering you, they won’t listen.”

“Understood. Do you really think I have a concussion?”

“No. Your eyes are clear and you’re not slurring your words. I figured it would at least give you a little reprieve from everything out there.”

Kit’s smile widens. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Although, I will have to at least keep your feet bound. That way if the guard comes back, I can quickly bind your hands before they enter. The lock will only temporarily slow them down since they have keys.”

“Hey, if it means spending time here with you instead of out there with everyone else who thinks I’m a vicious murderer, I’ll take it.”

Once you have him settled in the bed, you give him a cigarette before going about your daily routine. It is nice having Kit there. Occasionally, you talk as he smokes, but for the most part, the both of you enjoy each other’s company. He asks you about yourself, minor things, nothing too personal or probing, which you appreciate. You feel like he’s also trying to keep some distance between you, understanding your position and what a friendship with him could mean.

A few hours later, when you hear footsteps coming your way, you quickly bind Kit’s hands.

It takes a second for the door to be unlocked but then it opens and Dixon enters just as you’re pretending to check Kit’s bandages. “Walker here needs to see the shrink,” he says gruffly, crossing the room towards you.

“I was just about to call you.” Your lie is so effortless it even impresses you. “He doesn’t have a concussion. You can take him.”

Dixon is rough as he unbinds Kit and yanks him off the bed. To his credit, Kit doesn’t fight back or resist, understanding the stupid rules he needs to follow if he’s going to get anywhere in this place. Once he’s gone, you start to wrap up for the day, finishing any last minute tasks before getting ready to go home. As you’re straightening up your desk, your eyes catch the medication logbook, and an idea strikes you.

Sitting down, you flip through the pages, taking a look at the medications that are prescribed to each patient. At the bottom of the list is Kit’s name and, with a quick flick of your pencil, you manage to subtly cut his doses in half. It’s not much. You wish you can outright stop giving him the meds but that’s impossible. Hopefully, this way he’ll start to feel like himself.

You expect to be worried or guilty for what you’ve done. But honestly, you don’t. It feels right. Far too many patients have lost themselves in Briarcliff and you’re determined not to let Kit be one of them.

---

Kit’s world is not even recognizable anymore. One day he’s home with his beautiful wife, the next, she’s gone, and the police are accusing him of murder. He sees those damn creatures every time he closes his eyes, hears that loud noise echoing in his ears. If it’s not that he’s hearing, it’s the screams of the other patients.

When he saw you for the first time, heard you snap at the guard for mistreating him, he thought he was still dreaming. You have to be a dream. Nothing that good or sweet can possibly exist in this place. The way you look at him makes him feel seen for the first time in months.

He can’t get you out of his mind. After that initial visit, all he could think about was your warm embrace and the concern in your eyes.

To have someone care enough to worry about him meant everything. Especially during such a dark time. Trying to sneak away to see you had been a stupid idea but one he thought was worth the risk. He needed to know if he would have the same feelings each time, the same security and comfort. Do you really believe him or are you just a great actress?

The second time, you’re just as kind and generous as the first, and Kit knows that he is in trouble. A different kind of trouble than he already is in. This one is emotionally based and has the potential to end very badly.

Kit knew himself well enough to recognize the signs that he is falling for someone. You have only known each other a short while but already he can’t get you out of his mind.

The day following his first appointment with Dr. Thredson, he sees you in the Day Room and has to stop himself from immediately going over. It’s clear you’re busy, making the rounds and checking in on the other patients. Kit watches from a distance, smoking a cigarette as he leans against the back wall. Your kindness extends to everyone you come in contact with. He watches with admiration as you sit patiently with Pepper, checking on the small scrapes and abrasions she has.

You smile and his breath gets caught in his throat. Fuck you’re gorgeous.

Curiously, Kit watches as you slip something into Pepper’s hands before moving on to someone else. It turns out to be a small chocolate, which Pepper immediately devours before going back to her book. Kit smiles.

You catch each other’s eyes across the room just then. It’s a charged moment, like nothing in the world matters but the two of you. He makes a move to walk towards you, unable to help himself anymore. But then meds are called, and the moment is lost. Kit stubs out his cigarette and gets behind Lana as everyone lines up for their medications.

“This is bullshit,” Lana mutters under her breath. “Not all of us need medication. I don’t like that they force it on us. Makes my head all foggy.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Kit asks, echoing your sentiment from the day before. “Keep us under control.”

“I have a point. One I’d like to shove right up their asses.”

Kit snorts at Lana’s blunt phrasing. At first, she had been weary of him but now the two have developed a mutual understanding. Neither one of them belongs there and it’s better to support each other than fight. The line moves and Kit watches you join your assistant to make the medication process go faster.

When it’s his turn, you hand him his cup and briefly, his hands touches yours. It’s like a bolt of electricity shoots through your fingertips and into his, coursing through his veins at such a speed it makes his head spin. On the outside however, he remains calm, bringing the cup up to his lips to knock back his meds. Except, he notices they look slightly different than the days before. His eyes briefly dart to yours and there’s a subtle change in your expression. Your eye closes just enough to seem like a wink without fully being one.

Kit downs the meds with less hesitation than before.

Sadly, he can’t talk to you after that. Once meds are distributed, you go back to the infirmary and he’s left alone once more. Briefly he considers faking a stomachache to see you again, but your warning is still ringing in his ears. The fact that you offered him the excuse was risky on your part. He doesn’t want to get you in trouble by overstaying his welcome in the infirmary. Even though he is curious about the medication change, he lets it go.

It’s not until he’s in his room that night that he realizes he’s feeling clear-headed. Usually, once lights out comes around, the meds have him so loopy he rolls over and goes to sleep. Or at least tries. This time, however, he feels more like himself. Of course, that also means he’s more aware of the dark and the loud screams, but once they subside, he’s left with silence and his own thoughts.

She must have lowered my meds or something. She’s fucking amazing.

Kit smiles, curling onto his side as he allows himself to think about you without worry or fear. Again and again your meetings replay in his mind and when he closes his eyes, he can almost smell the scent of your laundry detergent and perfume. The way your soft hands gently held his made him flex his fingers instinctively. Those lips of yours…he’d given anything to kiss them.

Kit’s eyes fly open when he feels his cock swell. It’s been so long since he’s felt any kind of sexual desire even before being medication. It’s a wonderful change of pace, however now he has a slight problem. Kit feels ashamed of himself for thinking of you sexually. All you’ve done is show him kindness and he’s thinking about doing all sorts of things to you. With a frustrated sigh, he rolls onto his stomach and tries to ignore it.

This turns out to be a bad idea. The pressure of his body against the hard mattress causes wonderful friction and Kit finds himself pressing his hips down for some semblance of relief.

Fuck it, he thinks, shoving his hand in his pants. I need this right now. I need her.

It’s been a long time since he’s done this himself. It takes a second to find the right angle and rhythm. He stays on his stomach, arching his back just enough to give his hand room as he jerks himself off. Burying his face in his pillow, he bites down to stifle his moans as he pictures you in your nurse’s uniform. The way it hugs your frame suddenly assaults his vision. When you had leaned over him to check his head, he had caught just the barest hint of cleavage. Then, he had purposefully closed his eyes to be respectful.

Now, it’s all he focuses on, thinking about how he’d love to run his tongue across your salty flesh while his hands cupped your tits. He’d bury his nose in your skin and inhale your scent before kissing and sucking every bit of you he could reach.

Would you moan his name? He bets you would, and he bets it would sound fucking fantastic.

Kit grips himself tighter, speeding up his movements as he keeps the fantasy going in his mind. Suddenly, the angle is too constricting, and he rolls onto his back, biting his bottom lip as he hand brings him closer to coming.

He pictures it being your hand. Pictures him laying in that hospital bed, you leaning over him and jerking him off as you watch his face. He thinks of you telling him to come for you and as soon as that thought crosses his mind, he explodes, coming all over his own hand as he quietly moans your name.

Sweating and panting, Kit lays there in his bed, heart racing and head spinning. He uses his blanket to clean himself up, tossing it onto the floor before curling into a ball. He expects the shame or guilt to hit him any moment, but he can’t find it in himself to feel either. All he feels is aching in his heart for the real thing.

The next morning, when they open the cells, he remains in bed. Once he hears the guard come closer, Kit begins to moan in agony, clutching his stomach.

Thankfully, Hardy is the one who check on him. Ever since you told him off, he’s been mostly tolerable to Kit. At least to his face.

“What’s wrong?” the guard asks.

“My stomach,” Kit moans. “I think…I think I ate something bad.” When Hardy kicks Kit’s soiled blanket aside, he adds, “Wouldn’t touch that if I were you. I felt real sick last night.”

Hardy wrinkles his nose and gestures for Kit to get up. “Come on. I’m taking you to the nurse.”

Laying on the theatrics, Kit forces himself up, still hunched over with his arms wrapped around his stomach.

You’re sitting at your desk when he enters. The morning light is filtering in through the barred windows and it catches you ever so slightly. Enough to almost make Kit forget he’s supposed to be in great pain. When you see him, your face grows concerned.

“This one is moaning about a stomachache,” Hardy says. “Where do you want him?”

To his dismay, Kit notices you’re not alone today. There’s a patient asleep in one of the other beds. You’re out of your chair in a second, pressing one of those soft hands to his forehead.

“He’s burning up.” Your ability to lie so smoothly makes Kit admire you even more. “Here, let’s get him on this bed right here.”

Hardy and you help Kit onto one of the beds in the corner of the room, one that’s hidden behind a divider. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” you say, tucking Kit in. “It’s probably just food poisoning. I’ve told the cook a million times they need to store the food better.”

“Think he needs to be tied down?” Hardy asks.

“No, of course not. Have you ever dealt with a patient who’s tied down and soiling themselves? My job is hard enough as it is. I won’t be dealing with that today.”

Kit makes retching noises if for no other reason than to see Hardy grow pale and uncomfortable.

“Oh, you better go before he starts up,” you urge, shooing the guard away.

Kit keeps up the act until he hears the door close and you turn to him, giving him a wide smile. “Wow, bravo. Great work, Kit.”

He smiles, sitting up. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll have a shot as an actor when this is all over.”

You chuckle and glance over at your other patient to make sure he’s still sleeping before sitting on the chair by Kit’s bed. “How are you really feeling this morning?”

“Better, actually. Do I have you to thank for that?”

“Well…it did seem overkill to have you on such high doses of medication when you aren’t mentally unstable. I’m sorry I couldn’t take you off them completely.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Kit says, reaching out to lay his hand over yours. “If anything, I’m sorry for you having to take that risk. I don’t want you to get in trouble, or worse, because of me.”

You look down at his hand and he immediately draws it back, worrying he may have crossed a line. There’s something in your expression that puts him on edge. He can see that you’re struggling, which only makes him feel worse. He berates himself for foolishly giving into his desires. Already things are tough, and the future is scarily uncertain. He’s on the hook for murder for fuck’s sake.

Before Kit can continue the self-deprecating spiral, you surprise him by carefully getting out of your seat and sitting next to him on the bed.

“Kit…” you say. “This friendship between us…I don’t know if it can continue.”

Kit’s heart sinks and he looks away from you, his gaze now fixated on the floor. “I don’t blame you,” he says. “It’s not safe being near me in any way. Honestly, it was stupid of me to come here like that. As much as I like spending time with you, I never want to put you in a compromising position. I’ve seen these guards and I know how they treat women. You’re in just as much danger here as I am.”

Your hand takes his, and he snaps his head up to look at you.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” you say. For the first time since you met a few days ago, he hears the slightest crack in your voice. “I’m worried because, if we continue this friendship, I know that for me, one day, it might not be enough.”

His heart speeds up at your confession. Kit can’t believe his ears. The fact that you are feeling even the slightest bit of the attraction to him that he’s been feeling for you is enough to give him the sliver of hope that’s been severely lacking over the last few weeks.

Kit hesitantly links his fingers with yours, giving you every chance to pull away. You don’t. When he says your name, his throat is dry, and he has to clear it before he can go on. “I have no right liking you as much as I do. I don’t believe in God, but I can’t help but think that you’re my damn guardian angel. Because of you, I’m actually starting to think that maybe there’s a way out of this. Or at the very least, staying here won’t be so bad so long as you’re here.”

Your gaze softens and you look away, trying to hide the tear leaking out of the corner of your eye. With his free hand, Kit reaches up to wipe it away with his thumb. He can’t stop himself from cupping your cheek, needing to feel the warmth and softness against his palm. You shut your eyes, leaning into his touch, a shaky exhale escaping through your parted lips.

Your lips.

Kit’s eyes can’t look anywhere else. They look so inviting. He bets they’re just as soft as the rest of you, maybe even more so. Without even stopping to think what he’s doing, he starts to lean in, so slowly that you don’t seem to notice until you open your eyes to meet his. You pull your head back. Not abruptly or angrily, but enough where he gets the message to stop. Kit sighs with disappointment at the refusal. But a second later, you’re leaning in this time, at the same achingly slow pace he had been before.

Your lips brush and there’s a heated charge that soars between you, making you pause before you even properly get a kiss. Your eyes are wide as they meet his, searching for the same thing he’s looking for in yours: permission, acceptance, desire.

Kit closes the distance.

With one hand still cradling your face, he kisses you deeply, drawing your body as close to his as he dares. He feels you melt under his touch and it urges him to keep going, to keep kissing you, to deepen the kiss so he can savor the intense waves of desire washing over him.

You let him, opening your mouth so that his tongue can glide along yours.

It all becomes too intense for the both of you and you have to break the kiss, panting as your foreheads rest against one another’s.

“This is such a bad idea,” you say, the breathlessness of your voice making Kit’s cock twitch. “We have to be smart and we have to be careful. If we really can’t stay apart, then you have to listen to what I say and follow my instructions. Okay?”

“I can do that,” Kit says. He’d honestly agree to anything you say at that point. “Trust me, baby. I know the stakes.”

“Me too.” You take a deep breath and pull away, breaking all contact with him. It immediately leaves him cold and wanting more. “My assistants will be coming to collect the meds any moment. I need to go prepare.”

You reach out to cup his cheek and Kit holds your wrist, keeping your hand there for another moment so he could savor the contact. The way your eyes soften at him only makes him want to kiss you again. Instead, he settles for a peck on your palm before letting you fully pull away.

As you stand and collect yourself, you take a step towards the divider before you pause and look back at him. “No one can know, Kit. Not if you want to stay under my care. If anyone finds out there’s something between us, they’ll transfer me somewhere else and I won’t be able to protect you.”

The fact that you’re scared for him in this scenario and not yourself makes Kit want to throw you on the bed and ravish you. “I promise, I will find a way to clear my name,” he says. “Then once I’m out of here, I’ll take you away. Far away where this place can’t reach us.”

You smile and reach out to stroke his cheek again. “Easy there, Mr. Walker,” you tease, stroking his bottom lip with your thumb. “Keep talking like that and I may think you’re already falling for me.”

He watches you walk away, only one thought on his mind. Too late for that.

[beardrabbles]

composed together. [ ♡ ]

characters: venti, reader

warnings: alcohol mention

word count: 3,029

notes: been trying out venti as a muse on a roleplay blog i have, but I wanted to have a crack at writing a reader with him. i'm not a poet in any sense of the word, so i'm sorry if isn't up to venti's standards lmao. if you tolerated all the rhyming, you deserve a gold star and a high-five.

You had tried so hard to make it back in time, but were disappointed when you returned to find Mondstadt barren of the usual Windblume decorations. There were no wreaths or elaborately decorated banners, no potted plants sporting twirling pinwheels. The scent of fresh flowers and baking goods persisted, but it didn’t carry with it the festive spirit. People were, once again, content to ask for help rather than tend to their own needs.

‘ And that’s why I missed out.  .  . ’ You brooded. It was because you offered yourself as a member of the Adventurer's Guild that you had found yourself pulled away from your home. You had been promised that the job in question wouldn’t take you longer than three days, give or take a day depending on how well you did. But, as it turned out, you had been gone for an entire week. And in that week, the festival had come and gone.

Windblume had never been about the romance for you. Every year, you looked forward to the food and atmosphere, letting the spirit carry you away. This year, however, you had held onto the fleeting hope that someone might show interest. Or that you might gather the courage to approach the one you so adored. You knew it was a lame excuse to depend on one holiday to steel your nerves, but the time and your chance had dashed past in the blink of an eye.

“Shouldn’t have taken the damn commission.” You slumped at an outdoor table near The Angel’s Share, a half-empty tankard of cider resting in your hands. You drummed your fingers along the side of the tankard, willing yourself not to be bummed. The holiday would come around again next year, you reminded yourself as you downed another gulp. “But I’ll probably get sent out then too.”

You stooped forward even further, cheek nearly pressed flat to the table when the familiar sound of plucked  lyre strings thrummed in your ear. You sat straight so abruptly that you made yourself dizzy, your need to look around rapidly for the source not helping the fuzzy feeling in your head.

“Venti?” You called his name with such unbridled hope that he couldn’t keep himself hidden for long. A giggle sounded above you, and you felt your diminishing mood soar when you spotted the colorful bard sitting along the eaves of the tavern, beloved lyre in hand.

“The one and only!” He cooed, soaking in your glee. “Looks like you started without me.”

You frowned and peered down at your table, noting the two other empty tankards. Cheeks flushed from embarrassment, you pushed them aside, as if that would make them ( and your shame ) disappear. “Look, I just got back and I find out I missed out on Windbl——!”

Eyes up, you realized too late that Venti had vanished from the roof. You blinked once, then twice, your cider-addled mind slow to catch up. Where did he go?

“I was wondering where you’d gone off too.” His voice bobbed along the air, light and playful, and it tugged your attention like a hook pulling along a caught fish. He sat across from you, his chin resting in his palm and bright eyes twinkling with eternal mischief. “Missed Windblume, huh?”

“Mhmm.” You grunted and polished off the rest of your drink, mood dropping again. “I was looking forward to it too. Did I miss anything important?”

Venti hummed and leaned back in his seat. Absentmindedly, he toyed with the strings of his lyre. “Let me think. Margaret thought of a new, non-alcoholic drink and it went over pretty well with the kids and those looking to keep themselves a little more dignified during the festivities. Our own Honorary Knight was named this years Windblume Star! Oh! That’s right, I taught a class on the art of expressing ones love though poetry.”

You snorted.

“You taught people to write poems?” Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “At what cost?”

“Come noq, Y/N, do you really think I could put a price on the ability to write out what a person’s heart yearns for most?” He paused, saw your deadpan stare, then let out a nervous chuckle. “A few bottles of holiday-exclusive wine is all I asked for.”

“Begged is more like it.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “How many bottles exactly?”

“Enough to tide me over.” Answered the bard vaguely.

“Is there any left?”

His silence was all the answer you needed. You groaned, let your head hit the table, then left it there as your forehead throbbed. Venti, sporting the rare flicker of guilt across a normally jovial face, leaned forward to pat at the back of your head.

“Hey, don’t be down. I have an idea!”

You lifted your head, but your eyes were downcast and dulled. “Is it a bad idea? I don’t think I want to mess with anyone right now, Venti.”

“I thought of the idea, so of course it’s a good one! And we’re not going to mess with anyone.” Venti grinned from ear-to-ear and stood, offering you a single, delicate hand. You gave it a hard stare, wondering what sort of troublesome plans he had brewing in his head. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to come up with a believable excuse as to why you couldn’t indulge him.

Leaving your empty tankards behind, you stood and took Venti’s hand. You stumbled the slightest bit before finding your footing. “What’s your idea, O Great and Fantastical Bard?”

“Since you’re being so kind as to lavish me in well-deserved compliments, I’ll tell you.” He winked at your withering glare. “You’re going to help me compose a song!”

“How is that going to cheer me up? I’m not poetic.” You grumbled. Venti clicked his tongue as he guided you away from the tavern and towards the cathedral.

“That is wildly untrue, Y/N! Everyone is capable of expressing themselves through poetry.” He argued.

“But I’m not good at rhyming or thinking of pretty words.” You countered. Venti sighed and gave your fingers an encouraging squeeze.

“That’s not what it’s about. No one said that poetry was meant to impress people. If it does, that’s a bonus, but the point is to shape your feelings. You write how you feel, not how you want to sound. If you don’t rhyme, that’s fine. If you want to use big words, then by all means! Short words are still words, and they can still carry your thoughts with them. There are no rules with it comes to poetry, no matter what some stuffy scholar might say.” He tugged your hand and pulled your arm up high, leading you into an impromptu twirl. Unable to help yourself, you fell into a fit of laughter that instantly lifted your mood.

“I guess you’re right, but that doesn’t make it any easier for me.” You followed along, a new spring in your step. Venti shrugged.

“Practice means progress!” He clearly wouldn’t allow you to wallow in your negativity, and you were quietly grateful for it. If there was anyone that could lift you out of a funk, no matter how deep and depressing it may be, it would be him. 

Venti lead you past the statue of Barbados and around the side of the cathedral, where he perched on the side of a stone railing. Beyond you sat the lake, it’s surface a constantly shifting sheet of vivid oranges, cheerful yellows, warm reds and sleepy blues. The sun was setting, and soon night would fall, but Venti didn’t seem concerned. If it didn’t worry him, then it didn’t worry you, so you found a seat beside him and made yourself comfortable.

“The breeze is nice.  .  .” You let your eyes fall closed, skin kissed by a gentle twirl of the air against your heated cheeks. You couldn’t see then how Venti’s lips quirked up subtly, an adoration in his eyes that not many earned. He watched you for all of one, still moment before your eyes opened and he was forced to look elsewhere.

“Yeah, it is. So!” Quick to discard the hammering in his chest, Venti pulled forward his lyre and cleared his throat. “About that song——”

“What is it about?”

“Unspoken love, the kind that lives in your chest and makes every moment spent with the person you adore both exciting and painful.” His fingers strummed one string, then another. You frowned, the first few notes squeezing at your heart.

“Why is it unspoken?” You wondered, keeping your voice low.

“Because, sometimes, confessing is more selfish and cruel than never saying anything at all. Because opening up one’s heart may lead to more pain than you first expect.” The melancholy notes only proved to add more hurt to your chest, but still the bard smiled.

“Do you really want to write a song that sad?” You weren’t sure that your flimsy mood could handle thinking about such a morose subject.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand, dear friend~ The reason for love’s silence is upsetting, but the love itself is anything but!” Venti began to swing his legs, and you felt the breeze pick up. Green eyes turned up towards the sky, while a subtle tinge of pink touched his cheeks. “I’ll think of the first few lines, then you chime in with whatever your lovely little mind and heart think of first. Alright?”

“If you say so.”

“Great!” Skilled fingers began to play, the heart of the music beating in time with your own. “I want it to start like this: I want always to treasure your warm soul and kind eyes.  .  .”

You waited for more, but were met with a calm quiet. A single glance from the bard, and you suddenly felt as is everyone in town could hear and see you. Face burning hot with embarrassment, you looked out towards water rather than at your companion.

“I want always to treasure your warm soul and kind eyes. Hmm.” You breathed in deep and muttered the first thing that came into your head. “Every smile and glance like a hard-earned prize.”

“Good! And you said you weren’t skilled at this.” Venti beamed, the sheer glee behind his praise lifting your mood higher still. “Let’s keep going. Next line: Your voice it rings like the sweetest prayer.  .  .”

You thought hard again, arms crossed tight and lips pursed. This was as difficult as you thought it might be, but Venti’s enthusiasm was infectious. So, again you offered the only words that rose to the top of your mind. “.  .  . a blessing from lips so fair.”

Venti hummed, the sound soft and low in his chest. “Indeed they are.”

“What?”

“Nothing! Moving on!” He slipped from the stone railing and came to stand in front of you, posture loose and playful even as he came dangerously close. “I adore you, I do. My heart is yours, it’s true. Little skips and steady pounding, my dear, you are astounding.”

Feeling him so near, his eyes mirthful and intent on you, you couldn’t help but to shrink into yourself a little. You grasped the railing you sat on and hunched your shoulders, eyes glued to your feet. If only those words were meant for you. Oh, but then what would you do?

“Is this meant to inspire other people to think of their love, or are you thinking of someone in particular?” You couldn’t and wouldn’t dare to hope, but you had to ask.

The strumming stopped, but you didn’t turn your gaze up.

“Perhaps I am,” Venti purred coyly, “why? Is there someone you’re thinking about?”

“Don’t be such an imp.” You kicked a foot out, but he was quick to step aside. Your aggression, though harmless, pulled a laugh from the bard. “I might be thinking of someone.”

“Who is it?” Venti pestered. “Do I know them?”

“Maybe.” You sported a cheeky smile of your own. Venti moved in an inch or two more to your side, leaving only a breadth of space between the two of you.

“Do they inspire you?” He asked. You sighed, completely unable to contain the need.

“He does.”

“Oh, so they’re a he, are they? That narrows it down.” He tittered and let himself play a soft, ambient tune. “Does he know how you feel?”

“No way!” You let out a bark of laughter. “Been trying to keep it a secret.”

“Why?” Venti blinked, appearing thoroughly baffled. “He should know!”

“What was it you said? Confessing is selfish sometimes.  .  .”

“Using my words against me. Cruel.” Venti sighed. “You really won’t tell him?”

“Not until it’s right, and not until I’m strong enough to accept the possibility that he might not feel the same.” Your smile was feeble and didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Chances come and go, away with the wind they blow, so I hold these lovelorn words inside my chest, never to be confessed.”

Venti frowned, watching as your fingers pressed and rubbed at the sudden ache right where your heart sat. His own reacted in kind, the horribly familiar grasp of doubt squeezing at his chest. He knew those thoughts and feelings all to well.

“In your heart the feelings run deep, but darling, don’t put them to sleep.” He reached out again when you dismissed his lyrics with a scoff, only this time you didn’t hesitate to place your hand in his. He didn’t drag you away from where you sat, but let his fingers slip between yours. Your heart stuttered a moment, the gentleness of the gesture filling you with gratitude and trace amounts of confusion.

The breeze picked up again, and you thought you could still hear the gentle song of the lyre despite him being preoccupied.

“Look at me.” He voice dropped to a whisper, so soft and airy that you almost didn’t catch it. But when you did, you bashfully locked your gaze with his. The sweetest smile pulled at his lips, the glimmer in his eyes so sincere that it made your own eyes prickle at the very corners.

Why did you have to fall for someone like him? Why couldn’t you have fallen for someone forgettable, or someone that wasn’t almost always within reach?

“Listen to my words, find them true, only a moron would reject you. You are wanted, loved and adored, you are more precious than any treasure hoard.” Venti arched himself forward, his forehead meeting with yours. Music continued to play in your ears, making the air around his words sweet. Could you believe them when they came from someone as flighty as him? You wanted desperately to, but you had to argue, to contest his open fondness for you.

“By the time the day is done, you’ll have said that to everyone.” You countered. Venti couldn’t hold back a laugh, his head moving away from yours. Already, you regretted sassing him. Come back, stay close.

“You’re getting better at that. While it’s true that I love to sing peoples praises, what I give you aren’t throwaway phrases. You’ve caught me, dear heart, and I want to surrender, allow me to bask in your unending splendor.”

You snorted and gave him a harmless shove. Venti grinned and gave in to your push, but he was near again in an instant.

“It can’t be that hard to believe that someone would love you. Don’t you believe me?” His question hung heavy in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your mouth opened and closed, and each time your words failed you. Only after a long moment of listening to you stammer did Venti cautiously lean in. “Should I be selfish?”

“What does it mean for a bard to be selfish?” After a moment of mental screaming, you felt a smirk tease at your lips, but it was short lived. “Aside from drink all his wine before sharing it with someone?”

“Selfish bards do many, many things.” He spoke slowly, making sure each word dragged and lured you in. “I’ll admit it was silly to drink all the wine without you, but I can make up for it.”

You hummed contemplatively, each passing second tugging you closer and closer.

“How?”

“More wine?” He offered. You pulled a face.

“Mmmn, maybe. And?” Your mind was numb at this point, the idea that you two were so close making every inch of your body squirm. You had only daydreamed of sappy little scenarios like this, so living one out felt too good to be true. You were waiting to wake up, in fact, because this couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be tempting the idea of confessing to you when the entire world of Teyvat could offer him better.

“Songs written just for you?” Venti’s grin broadened, but there was a hitch in his breath when you nudged the tip of your nose against his.

“Anything else?” You egged him on, catching a flare of darker green in his eyes. He said nothing, but the way he moved his hand to touch your cheek spoke volumes. “How about a share of the apples you pick every day, or some mora, or——?”

“You’re talking too much.” He muttered, lips only a fraction away from yours.

“That’s rich coming from you.  .  .”

His breath was warm and welcome and mingled with yours for all of one second before you felt the notion of a kiss. It was then that the bell above the cathedral chimed, it’s proximity and the intensity of the clap jarring you and the bard from your shared trance. You jerked away, flushed and wide-eyed, while Venti clicked his tongue. Vexed, he glared up towards the cathedral.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I need to go.” You scrambled from your spot, heart hammering so hard in your ears that it almost drowned out the sounds of the bell. “I forgot to see Katheryne about the commission!”

Venti arched a brow. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.” You vaulted over the railing and contemplated running off without another word, but it didn’t feel right. Rather than succumb to cowardice and embarrassment, you turned to face the bard. “Tomorrow. We’ll do this again, I promise, and.  .  .”

“And?”

“We’ll finish where we left off.”

“I was hoping you’d say that!”

[calpalirwin]

Better Now

Summary: Putting yourself back out there after a heartbreak is never easy, but you and Ashton are learning that it’s worth it.

A/N: Big thanks to @jessalyn-jpeg​ for listening to me cry over Taylor Acorn songs while I figured out how to combine her latest releases into 1 fic.

Word Count: 2.6k

And away, and away we go!

__

Aside from the composition book that lay open on the coffee table, the recording room was empty. Face contorting in curious confusion, Ashton picked it up, thinking one of his bandmates had left it behind. But as he caught a glance at the words sprawled across the lined pages in black inked handwriting he didn’t recognize he knew he should have closed it. Songwriting was a very personal thing, and he would hate for anyone to find his own songbook lying around and read the contents. But the words jumped out at him, and he found himself taking a seat, still holding the notebook open in his hands.

“And no one comes to save you, you learn to save yourself. The world, it just keeps going on while you’re going through hell. No, it’s not all that it’s cut out to be. ‘Cuz you can’t hide behind the silver screen. Love ain’t like the movies.”

“Jesus…” he whispered to himself.

“Excuse me?” a female voice asked from the doorway, and Ashton jumped, snapping the notebook shut.

“Uh…” he stuttered, staring at the woman with her hair messily thrown up, dressed casually in jeans and a tank top, a tired but wild look in her bright eyes. “Hi. Can I help you?”

She adjusted the guitar case strap on her shoulder. “Uh, I hope so? A notebook? Standard composition notebook. Black and white colored. Probably impossible to distinguish from any other black and white standard composition notebook. I know, super helpful description. You haven’t happened to see one lying around here, have you?”

“Like this?” Ashton asked, flashing the notebook in his hand.

“It would look exactly like that!” she brightened. Then, her smile faltered. “But that one’s probably yours, isn’t it?”

“Uh, actually no. It was on the coffee table when I came in. I, uh, thought it might be one of my bandmates, but it’s not their handwriting.”

“Oh, so you read it?” she asked. No anger or embarrassment. Just clarifying a fact.

Ashton rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry… I didn’t read a lot. Just enough to realize the handwriting was different.” He held out the notebook to her for her to take. “It’s uh, good by the way. Whatever you’re working on. Relatable.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the notebook from him and flipping through the pages to confirm that it was in fact hers. “I really need to keep better track of my shit… Thanks for finding it.”

“Yeah, ‘course. And sorry again for reading bits of it.”

She waved a hand at his apology. “Oh, it’s fine. My fault for leaving it lying around. Sorry you can relate to it.”

Ashton shrugged. “Heartbreak: part of the standard human experience. Some of your lyrics actually remind me of a song my band put out once years ago. At the time I considered myself lucky to not be able to relate to it. But seeing yours… which is far more poetic than anything four teenage boys could come up with… I’m glad for songs like that. Makes you feel a little less alone in the drowning.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping this helps me at least start to tread water again. How long ago was the heartbreak for you?” she asked, then shook her head. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I should probably be going anyway. Let you get back to your shit, and go off to deal with mine.”

Ashton chuckled. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s been about four months for me. So still recent enough to sting like a bitch.”

She smiled and laughed a bit at his words, but there was a sadness to both. “Two and a half months for me. So just enough to actually drag myself out of my bedroom.”

“And down to a studio where some jackass reads your most personal feelings. Awesome…”

There was a bit more realness to her laugh this time around. “Honestly, not a problem. It’s meant for people to hear, you know?”

“I suppose that’s true. I’m Ashton, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

“Good luck with the song, Y/N. Feel better soon, yeah?”

“Thanks. You too.” She turned to head out of the room, before pausing and turning back around. “What was that song? The one your band made that you couldn’t relate to at the time?”

Ashton’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh. You don’t wanna hear that one, trust me. Cringey teenage attempt at being emo punk.”

“Damn… Emo punk is my favorite.”

Against his better judgement, Ashton pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Alright,” he gave in, pulling up the song. “But you’re not allowed to make fun of me. Like I said, this was years ago.”

Y/N held out her pinky finger. “No judgement, swear.”

Ashton linked his own pinky with hers, and hit play. For the next three and a half minutes he watched her carefully as she stood there with her eyes closed, nodding her head along with the beat. On one hand, he was glad her eyes were closed because it meant that she couldn’t see him watching her, or see his embarrassment. But on the other hand it meant that he had no clue what she was thinking. He hit pause before it could replay again. “Like I said, some of your lyrics have a similar feeling,” he said with a shrug.

She opened her eyes as she nodded. “Yeah, I see what you mean. About thinking you’re getting the fairytale movie ending one second, and the next the ending is anything but happily ever after. Was one of those solos you?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m the drummer. So-”

“Lots of back up,” she interrupted with a knowing nod. “Is it because you don’t sing at all? Or just out of convenience?”

“Mostly convenience. In our earlier days we used to split up singing pretty evenly. And then we all got more comfortable in our roles. But I still sing from time to time in more than a back up way.”

“That’s cool. And I bet it makes recording stuff and everything so much easier. I have to do a lot of borrowing or outsourcing to get all the sounds I want.”

“Not in a band, huh?”

“Nope. Just your regular solo artist.”

“That’s gotta get lonely.”

“It can be. But it also means making things in my vision, and not having to compromise on that.”

“Well, if you ever need someone to lay down some drum tracks, or just some company so you’re not drowning alone, I’m here most of the time.”

She nodded, understanding what he wasn’t saying about an intrinsic need to stay out of the house as much as humanly possible. Away from the memories that haunted every aspect of being awake. “Thanks, Ashton,” she said, once again turning to leave, but found herself turning back towards him, another question on her lips. “Do you mind if I ask you something personal?”

“Go for it.”

“What’s the hardest part of breaking up? Of trying to move on, and feel like yourself again?”

“Honestly? Waking up, and seeing that empty side of the bed. Hits you like a freight train all over again. That kind of overwhelming sense of dread that you’re never gonna feel normal again.”

“But then you get up, and try anyway, hoping that today it hurts just a little bit less than it did yesterday.”

“But it doesn’t, and you start to lose hope that the pain will ever stop.”

“That’s the hardest part.”

“The fuckin’ worst. But hey. It can’t suck forever. Or, that’s what I keep telling myself anyway. That’s what finally gets me out of bed.”

“And hey! Maybe I'll get a hit song out of it in the process, too.” She feigned a smile, flashing her notebook.

“Oh, that’ll be a hit, no question about it.”

“Thanks. For uh… well everything, I guess. See you around, Ashton.”

“Good luck, Y/N.”

~~~

Y/N eventually did get the courage to ask Ashton for both his company and musical help, on a day when she found it harder than normal to get up out of bed.

She trudged her way into the studio, spotting him watching a coffee pot in the common living area. “Oh, hey,” he smiled warmly as she pulled open the fridge. “Making a fresh pot if you want any.”

She shook her head, grabbing a water bottle and taking a few sips from it. “Can I get your help today?” she asked in a low whisper, hoping to hide the wobble in her tone.

“Yeah, of course. Everything alright?”

She shook her head again, then wordlessly left for her recording room.

“So, what’s up?” Ashton asked when he found her a few moments later, cup of coffee in hand.

“You’re not allowed to judge me for any vulnerability today.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Because this verse is gonna be really hard for me to record.”

He nodded, taking a seat while she set up behind a microphone. A soft guitar track started playing, and when she took a breath, Ashton prepared himself for lyrics of her most recent break up. So when her soft voice started singing, “ ‘Cuz after my dad died, even though she never let us see her cry, my mom was broken inside, ‘cause she just lost her best friend. Why don’t they prepare you for that? When the picture perfect life you had goes black,” to say he was shocked was a bit of an understatement.

There was a click of the track, and the guitar stopped, the headphones settling around her neck. “I’m sorry about your dad,” he spoke up softly. “I- that’s gotta be rough.”

“Most of the time it’s a dull ache. A small hum I can ignore if I don’t focus on it. But there’s a few days where the pain is all fresh, like I’m learning the news again for the first time. A shock to the system.”

“I like the juxtaposition of it all. Most of the time when people think of love gone wrong, or ending before we’re ready, it’s the break up. Because the alternative… it’s…”

“Unfathomable.”

“Yeah. It’s a pain that I can’t imagine, that’s for sure.”

“Lucky you.”

He chuckled slightly. “Nah. Not in the way you think. My own experience is fucked, but in the other direction. He left and never gave a shit.”

“That’s rough.”

“It was, yeah. I guess the small benefit is that I was too young to remember him leaving. So for me, he’s always been gone. Haven’t ever known anything different.”

“See, I’m grateful that I at least have my memories of my dad. Even if he’s been gone longer than I had him. But it’s like a double-edged sword. The memories bring some peace. But it also fuckin’ sucks that they’ll never be anything more than that. That I don’t get new ones.”

“Well, I dunno if talking about him helps you at all. But if you want to, you can.”

“You don’t mind? I don’t wanna bore you, or make you jealous.”

He patted the empty spot on the couch next to him. “C’mon, you asked for my help. Let me help.”

She gave a small laugh before moving to sit next to him. “Remember, you’re not allowed to judge me for being vulnerable.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He listened as stories of her childhood fell from her lips. He offered her up the box of tissues on the coffee table when her words got choked, and would gently prompt her into continuing when she stopped to apologize. He provided her with stories of his own childhood when her own stories grew too painful to share, confiding in her the way she was confiding in him. And when the sun started to cast long shadows across the room, maybe not a lot of work had been done when it came to her song, but Ashton had helped her nonetheless, and both of them felt a little lighter than they had been in a while.

~~~

Help in the form of company was given with much less hesitance after that, with Y/N and Ashton seeking each other out with regularity. Some days would be spent with the two barely exchanging a word as they played out various melodies, or wrote new lyrics. Other days were filled with endless chatter as they shared ideas they had, and provided ideas on how to overcome any blocks in creativity, or just swapped more stories. And other days still, he would help her work on her song.

When Y/N finally finished her song, Ashton was the first person she thought of to share it with, dragging him excitedly into the room with her. “Jesus, this is the happiest I think I’ve ever seen you,” he teased with a giggle.

“Do you wanna hear the song or not?” she asked.

“It’s done?”

“It’s done!”

“Well, hit play! C’mon!”

For three and a half minutes they stood in the middle of the recording room while her song blasted from the speakers. 

“Well?” she asked expectantly when silence overtook them once more. Then, more quizzically, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

He had an amazed smile on his face, dimples cratering his cheeks, and a soft shine in his eyes. “Staring at you like what?” he asked in response.

“Like you wanna… I dunno… kiss me or something…”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. Then the soft look was melting away into confusion. “Cuz sometimes I think I want to.”

“And other times?”

“I talk myself down because I’m not sure what I want, or what I feel. We’re both still getting over people who caused us a lot of damage. And I don’t always feel like I’m ready to think about starting a relationship with someone new. But I also know that I’m never going to be ready until I actually start doing it. And I really like the friendship we’ve built the past couple of months. I feel more like me when I’m around you. Like, not only am I no longer drowning, I can actually feel the bottom. But I don’t know if those feelings come from being around someone who can relate to what I’m going through right now, like some weird trauma bond. Or if it’s real “I like you’ feelings. And it’s not fair to you for me to not know.”

She nodded, both understanding what he was saying, and what he wasn’t saying. “What if I kiss you instead?”

“Please, don’t.”

“Because you’re scared we’ll hurt each other? Ash, if we don’t at least try, then we’re never gonna know what’s real and what’s not.”

“It’s partially that. But also… If we end up kissing… I’m not going to want to stop.”

“Then you better not be a lousy kisser.”

~~~

7 Months Later

Ashton got a small flash of deja vu as he saw the black and white composition book lying open, the beginnings of a song scribbled across one of the pages. “Just another hopeless broken heart cliche. And all my fairytale ambitions, I just watched them wash away.”

“Y/N?” he called out, curious to learn where this song was going, and also where his girlfriend could be hiding. “Babe?”

“But it’s too late for sorry baby, even if you’ve changed. I’m not letting myself break down, count me out. Oh, I’m better now,” her voice sang softly as it came down the hallway with her, a black pen twirling between her fingers. She paused as she spotted him standing there with her notebook, a smile lighting up her face. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” he matched her smile, handing her the notebook and pressing a kiss to her head. “That’s nice. Whatever you were just singing. What inspired this one?”

“Just reflecting a bit on this past year,” she told him, as she quickly wrote what she’d been singing in the notebook before the lyrics left her head.

“Feeling a lot better these days, huh?”

“Better than I’ve ever been.”

__

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[sofijaeger]

Felt sad/broke down crying earlier due to having a rough night (plus last few weeks). Can I request an Eren and Reader one-shot or Drabble where Eren sees Reader breaking down crying in bed after he got out of the shower and comforts Reader by wrapping her (Reader sleeps in clothes just an fyi) in his completely bare body she adores/loves, cuddles, whispering kindness to her, and lullabies to make her feel better? Thank you! (I’ll just call myself 🌻 anon if that’s okay with you)

my sunflower anon,

i’m so so sorry you’ve been having a rough past few weeks, and i was seriously debating on replacing eren’s name in this with my own so i could tell you how much you are loved by me. My dms are open for you always if you ever feel comfortable sharing how you feel, but I hope this can bring a bit of happiness to your day!

warning: thoughts about dignity, some nudity

i use the nickname Er (like air) for him, though i know a lot of people use Ren too. If you’d like me to change it to something else i’d be more than happy to!

i didn’t get to proof read, so apologize for any errors. and yes, Rex Orange County helped me write this:)

the feeling was back.

This flow of dejection fueling your entire body like it relied on sorrow as its only source of energy, not needing rest or even a good meal to supply it anymore. You could barely remember the reasons for why you felt like this, succumbing to the typical numbness of being down while giving up was an option you hated but found so simple to obey. And after time and time again you felt more content with keeping it here, inside of you where it wouldn’t bother anyone but yourself.

Not even a gleam of joy shone through your eyes as he pulled out of your driveway, one hand rotating the wheel, the other immediately searching for your clammy palm. Not from sweat or nerves, but from the tears you had forgotten to dry off before he arrived. Eren was well aware though. He always seemed to know, to understand.

You were utterly grateful, how could you not be when your escape from reality was right beside you, rescuing you to your safe haven. A place he was quite familiar to all his life, hoping someday you wouldn’t have to be a drive away but could tend to his own heartache for you in the comfort of a home you’d share. But at the moment, your mental state wasn’t the best at supporting your emotions as it usually was, and that was his priority. Apathetically leaning your forehead against the rainy glass window, you just relaxed to his hums of Rex Orange County.

It was funny, really. He chose this song on purpose for you. One that even if you weren’t familiar with it conveyed his feelings in less than five minutes, almost perfect timing to his home.

I don’t wanna see you cry,

you don’t have to feel this emptiness.

And he hummed along, reminding you of how comforting he wanted his presence to be, and how happy it made your heart in return.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower okay babe? I had an extra-long practice today.” Eren huffed with a soft smile, testing if positivity could lighten your mood. He was always so diligent, and you thought of it just about every day. How was it possible to keep a facade so inspiring anyone could feel a surge of power emit from themselves. A morality that made you question what interest he found in someone like yourself who tried to be there for others, but felt helpless, selfish in the end to her own needs.

Even after you could barely respond to his simple conversations he was still trying to make you feel better, and you were too dazed in your own world to comply. “Are you sure you don’t wanna come in with me?” He raised and dropped his eyebrows in that ‘typical flirty’ manner. One you normally agree to with a laugh if you hadn’t bathed in your own tears before he picked you up. So you answer with a light smile, one too fragile he easily sensed a cycle of your tears would be making another round. He hummed, giving your forehead a light kiss before jogging into the bathroom.

A gentle bass of the television played alongside endless questions piercing through your mind. But you didn’t know who to blame, you couldn’t blame anyone. No one but yourself bringing the people down around you when you didn’t even have enough energy to find a solution. Was it finally starting to show? Would you bring everyone into this pain with you? You couldn’t do that, not to Eren.

The water echoing into his bedroom felt like the only alternative to drowning out the second wave of cries you began pouring out that night, praying your boyfriend wouldn’t hear you. How could you concern him when all he ever did was bring you happiness. It wasn’t fair to him.

“Stop, just stop.” you cry out, pressing both your hands down your face as if distorting it for a few seconds could make you toughen up. But attempting to silence yourself was no easy task, between the dialogue of the TV cartoons and the fog seeping into his bedroom you sat in. It was all too much.

This feeling, you wanted it gone, or at least to know it wouldn’t come back, but it was strangling you.

Fortunately, this noose of anxiousness began to loosen, with the creak of the bathroom door and toned, bare arms gripping you in whole. Eren overheard you, he’d never close the door to leave you in your own shell. It practically brought tears to his own eyes listening to you suffer while he bathed, alone.

One-minute baby, give me one more minute. he repeated, sloshing the conditioner out of his hair before patting himself dry, then wrapping a towel around his waist and hurrying towards you.

Eren engulfed you from behind, situating your fragile state into his lap. The little jolts of your chest quickened, so he rested your head against his collarbone with one hand, finding your waist with the other, allowing yourself to breath the fresh steamy air of the shower.

This was easily the highlight of your day. Him, making what had happened before completely unimportant. What mattered now was the thin towel tied around his waist and your sweats being the only separation from a full blend of your bodies. His damp chest would do though, releasing that familiar musky scent you had already begun hypnotizing yourself into.

Eren didn’t say a single word at first, letting your own thoughts to come to terms with your body. By the steadiness of your pulse he placed his fingers upon would he then serenade you with his honest tenderness.

“Baby...” he elongated, beginning to stray pieces of your hair from your sticky skin. He wasn’t even sure what to begin with himself. Between trying to find just one quality of yours he admired so much and the nurture you provided him, even at times like these made him feel in debt. You were his family despite being his love, and the comfort you found in him, the trust you willingly let yourself fall into his arms with, cries you couldn’t bear to keep away made his heart so full.

Eren would always be indebted to your love.

He guided you down onto the bed, slowly flipping your positions in the process. His hair displayed tiny droplets onto your collarbone while his nose found your neck, nuzzling just a little closer to your ear with every rub.

“I can’t Er I-” you made out of your shaky breathes, sniffing in future sobs. But Eren wouldn’t let you hold it in, not for him at the very least. He shifted up your neck and pressed his body right on top of yours. “Let it out for me, please,” he whispered, begging that his weight could squeeze out any last ties holding you together. And they did untie, for your throat broke down, emerging into weeks of tension and built up hopelessness.

“It’s all too much Eren, I can’t do this anymore!” You wept, pulling him closer to you with every inhale. You didn’t want to let him go, let this moment slip away. And he would listen, not beginning to interfere until you were exhausted of your own thoughts, leaving your mind empty for his to infiltrate wholeheartedly.

He pressed further into you, squeezing all your thoughts out like an aura. His calloused hands found their way to your head, caressing it tenderly, and he kept his head by your lips, drowning himself deep into the voice of what possibly the most perfect girl in his life had to say for herself.

And while you tired yourself in your tears, he raised his head, kissing each one that spilled away, listening to every word wailed from your heart. He couldn’t be the one to change how you felt, for that solely relied on you, but he would guide you in every direction until you’d be able to smile on your own again.

Your half-lidded eyes following a slightly open jaw signified no more words could come out, and no tears were left to cry. It was his turn now, to make you feel loved, just like the one and only you are in his life, who he strives to become better for every day.

“Is there anything else you need to let out?” He cooed, brushing his knuckles up against your cheek. You melted into his touch, silencing yourself from the way he looked at you. The way his eyes exploded in a mesmerizing turquoise, full of admiration for you below him. He calmly smiled, examining each of your adorable features. Your heated complexion, disheveled hair, and shallow exhales made him bashful in your presence. He adored you.

“I wish you didn’t have to feel like this, you don’t deserve this pain.” He begun, ignoring your head shakes of disagreement. He felt awful, watching you side with your dark thoughts. It made him furious seeing them hold that light inside of you hostage.

“I love you. I love you for everything you are, and you better know my love for you will never weaken. You have my whole heart.” he took your palm, pushing it up against his warm, bare chest. That special heartbeat echoed through you like it was your own. “You feel that? It’s beating for you, and it will continue to.” He smiled down at you, radiating warmth you never wanted to let go of ever again.

“You’re my necessity, love. That will never change.”

If your tears could fall again they would, your mouth opening to say something, anything to share the love you felt for him. But Eren silenced you, emptying your mind again with a sweet kiss to your lips. Your eyes widened before relaxing into him, him wrapping a strong arm to your hips, caressing the soft skin with his thumb as the other guided your head closer to his. You pursed your lips loosely, for the feeling of his hand grazing your jaw made your nerves explode into a frenzy, his tongue peeked in every now and then to suck on your own before retracting back, extracting a few pleasureful whimpers and making you needier for him by the minute. He pulled back slowly, of course, letting the tease of himself end your kiss as he watched your eyes twitch in confusion from the loss of contact, before opening them with a pleading look to continue.

He just chuckled, meeting your nose with his in an Eskimo-like gesture.

“Eren I-“

“Shhh, let me take care of you,” he murmured, assisting you in removing your shirt to place you in his own. He was captivated by you, the little jolt your breasts made from the subtle movement, the effortless way your hair fell after being pulled up by the fabric. He watched you in awe. Though it wasn’t the time to fawn over your appeal, he couldn’t help it.

“Beautiful-“ he breathed, practically drooling in your existence as he crouched to meet the top of your chest, letting a few open mouth kisses slip out and down your figure as he reached your navel. He appreciated every little hitch in your breath, trying its hardest to become that little giggle he knew wonderfully. Making each other feel treasured was no difficult task when both of you could be valued as one another’s.

Before laying you down once more, he gave your lips a final peck, holding you beside his still bare skin. You didn’t mind the proximity and neither did he. You shifted to your side resting your head in the crease of his neck, smelling a woodsy mint release from his moist locks and look up, meeting his jawline to place a silent peck of thanks, for the affirmations now sunken deep into your heart, for entrancing you with his stunning physique and for being your other half to which no one else could complete.

“You’re mean everything to me_______, I mean that with nothing but the truth,” he responded, tickling his hand down your side, his lips meeting at your temple. He felt so homely, the coziness in his words, his touch. It was all so pure of him. Sure his feverish temper made you fall for him, but his mellowness kept your love unbroken.

A few gentle hums enhanced your sleepiness, slowly lagging behind his own as your eyes lidded shut. He was singing Sunflower again, you figured. The song could describe your relationship in a matter of minutes, the bond you two had shared for years transitioning from best friends to lovers. It was truly beautiful to think about, Eren was beautiful to think about.

And so he continued to hum until your soft, sleeping figure was well in its rest, a tiny raise in your frown guaranteeing he achieved what he wanted most, to make you smile.

“You know you need to get yourself to sleep and dream a dream of you and I. There’s no need to keep an open eye, I promise I’m the one for you just let me hold you in these arms tonight.”

Eren was beyond lucky to be himself, you could see it in his face. And after all the problems that had dragged you down, he was your boy, your reason to forget it all.

You honestly didn’t remember why, you let yourself get down in the first place.

[andwereallmadhere]

You’re Not Alone | Jean x Reader

Paring: Jean x f!reader (slight Eren x reader mentioned)

Genre: FLUFF!, song fic

Word Count: 4.5k 

Warnings/ Triggers: Alcohol, underage drinking 

A/N: I was inspired by the Big Time Rush song You’re Not Alone (Link below). This is not the first thing I have written, but it is the first I am posting. Characters might be OOC but I feel like the overall feeling is there. I hope you enjoy!

Link to song: https://youtu.be/tbS5JF32szE

I bet you didn't notice First time your heart was broken You called me up and we talked til the morning

Jean is woken from his sleep by the harsh ringing of his phone. He fumbles for a minute trying to slide the little green button to answer the call. He puts the device up to his ear before stuffing his face back into the pillow, “Why are you call me it’s the middle of the night?” Sleep heavy in his gruff voice. He is quickly answered by your voice sobbing on the other end of the receiver. This immediately broke him out of his sleep-filled mind. He should have known when he saw your picture flash on the screen that you would only be calling if it was important. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He says wiping a guilty hand over his face. You didn’t respond. Still unable to form proper words through all the tears. He continues to quietly talk to you in an attempt to calm you down. Once the sobbing ebbs he finally asks, “Y/N, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

He only hears you choke out a single word, “Eren.”

Jean and Eren never did get along, in however long you and Jaeger had been dating. But, as your best friend, Jean tried his best to accept him since that would make you happy. So hearing that HE is the reason you are crying at 2 A.M. enrages Jean. 

“What did that bastard do? Did he try something you didn’t want? Do I need to beat him up? Y/N, I swear to god if he hurt you I will-“

“No Jean. It’s not like that.” “Then what is it like?”

“He dumped me.”

“Y/N…”

“He just came by my house and told me that “I’m just over it I guess”. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“He’s a dick, I’ve told you that from the beginning.”

You only respond by sobbing more.

Eren had been your first real boyfriend. And as much as Jean didn’t want it to be true, you were head over heels. Everyone knew this would happen eventually, he just hoped there would be a little more warning. Maybe a fight or something but just cutting it off without a real reason? Jean had theories that he was probably hooking up with someone else and didn’t want the guilt of being a cheater, but you didn’t need to hear that right now. You didn’t need overprotective Jean hating on Eren. You needed best friend Jean to comfort you and assure you that you are worthy of love and everything is going to be okay.

“Hey, you can do better than him. He’s the real loser here. Any guy would be lucky to have you and the next one has to go through me first.” Jean says half meaning it, half attempting to make you laugh.

“Stop it, Jean, You know you’d lose every fight.” He can almost hear the smile in your voice, despite the tears that are certainly still running down your face. 

“Why don’t I come get you? We can go for a drive or something.”

“Okay.” Your soft voice is followed by a sniffle.

“I’m on my way.”

Jean gets out of the warmth of his bed and finds his sweatpants. He throws on a hoodie and grabs an extra in case you forget to bring your own. It's pretty chilly out tonight. He grabs his keys and begins the drive to your house. Once he arrives he sees your form sitting on your porch. Always the gentleman, he walks over to you and offers to help you up. You grab his hand and he can still see the tear stains on your cheeks. Once you are on your feet he pulls you into a hug. “Hey,” Jean says returning your tight squeeze. “Let’s go get you some food.” 

You don’t respond, but your grip around his waist losses and you begin making your way to the car. He opens the door for you and watches as you immediately grab the spare hoodie and slide it over your head. It’s obviously too big for you, but you are grateful for the extra fabric to bury your sad face in. 

The ride is mostly silent, Jean wanted to give you room to talk if you wanted. After a bit of having his hoodie pulled up to your nose, it was clear that you were too caught up in your own drowning thoughts to say anything so he turned on a very soft playlist from his phone in hopes of providing you some distraction.

Jean stops the car and you see he has brought you to a Waffle House. He knows it your favorite. Sure the food isn’t great but there is something about the mediocracy of the establishment that gets you. “Come on slowpoke, I’m buyin’,” Jean says after opening your door. You give him a thank you before following him into the restaurant. 

The two of you find a small booth, given that it was well into the night, there weren’t any people there other than the handful of employees. “You’ll have to talk to me eventually you know,” Jean says. You take a moment to look up from the menu he knows you have memorized by now. Just then a waitress comes by to take your order. 

Jean already knows exactly what you want because you always get the same thing. Just as he tells the waitress your order you finally speak, “Hey Jean.” Your voice is slightly above a whisper, “can I have chocolate milk?” You look back down at the table while Jean turns back to the waitress, “And can the lady have a chocolate milk, please and thank you.” Jean smiles at you as the waitress walks away, your silly request signaling that his best friend is slowly but surely coming out of this shell of sadness. 

Sure enough, you begin to open up. You tell him more of the details about Eren dumping you. Your food arrives and you laugh when Jean spills his glass of water on his lap. The two of you eventually move to the barstool countertops to talk to the fry cook, trying to convince him to make you a pancake instead of a waffle. Eventually Jean pays, leaving a generous tip as an apology for your late-night shenanigans. 

Walking to the car you can see the pastel colors of the impending day reaching the sky. Not ready to go home yet you lean into Jean’s body, tugging on his arm, “Let’s go watch the sunrise!” 

“You’re ridiculous.” He says shaking his head, “get in the car.” He smiles and opens your car door. Of course he was going to let you watch the sunrise. He is going to drive you to the park and find a place high up and the two of you will talk about nothing at all until you fall asleep in the passenger seat of his car. He is really just happy that the outing has worked. No, 4 A.M. waffles cannot cure your broken heart but it at least made you smile. 

And the time that you were stranded I was there before you landed He was a no show, I made sure you got home

High school seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Graduation came and went and your family decided that you should spend the summer at your aunt’s house on the other side of the country. Of course, you loved your aunt and her kids, but spending your last real summer break away from your friends wasn’t a huge selling point. Ultimately, your mom said you had to go because the trip was already paid for and your aunt was expecting you. The only reason you eventually agreed was that the majority of your little group were all attending the same college, so at least it wasn’t goodbye.

The day before Freshman move-in everyone decided to throw a party at Eren and Mikasa’s house. Eren’s parents were out of town a lot so that is usually where the gang got together. Jean and Eren still don’t along great, but Jean was close to Sasha and Connie who happened to be okay friends with Armin and Mikasa, and thus your little group was formed for better or for worse. After the night Eren dumped you out of the blue, Jean was furious with him, only for you to accept Jaeger’s lame-ass apology and take him back a week later. Luckily there hadn’t been any more repeats of that night. Maybe Eren was telling the truth and did actually like you, so Jean played nice even if he didn’t fully forgive the brunette. 

And now he was here, with you on FaceTime while you wait for your flight at the airport and Jean is getting ready for Eren’s dumb party that you won’t even make it to. 

“So when does your flight get in?” Jean asks folding the remains of the load of laundry his mom did this morning. 

“I think about 11 if it’s not delayed again. I’m super bummed that I won’t make it in time for the party.”

“It’s at Jaeger’s house, can’t he just bring you by after he picks you up?” 

“I guess so, but he also said something about taking me home because it’ll be late and we have move in tomorrow.”

Jean hums in response. It is a valid argument logically, but none of them have seen you all summer except for the occasional FaceTime. The only real reason Jean was going to this stupid party was that you were supposed to be back in time. Jean can hear a voice come over the intercom in the airport. “Hey, Jean, that’s my flight. I gotta go.”

“Alright, Y/N, let me know when you land. See you soon.”

With that, the call ended. Your face replaced by a photo of you and Jean at prom making silly faces. Yeah, Eren was your date and Jean took Mikasa, but you all took photos together and his mom insisted on getting one of the two of you. It was obvious that the picture pissed Eren off, and that made it even more special to Jean. 

Eventually, Jean finished the laundry and headed over to Eren’s. At least everyone else will be there and he can kick Connie’s ass at beer pong. Jean purposefully arrived a little late, so he knew everyone else would already be there, and sure enough, Eren had the white folding table already set up in the garage and Armin had started a little bonfire in the backyard. “Horseface You made it!” Connie says throwing an arm around Jean. 

“I told you not to call me that.”

“What are you going to do send Y/N after me? Oh wait…She’s not here!”

“We both know Y/N could easily kick your ass so shut up.”

Jean went around greeting everyone else and made good on his promise to dominate at beer pong. A while later he takes a seat next to Armin, who was currently roasting a marshmallow. “Ever put peanut butter on a s’more? Whole new experience.”

Armin looks over at Jean, “Y/N show you that?”

“Oh no, secret’s out,” Jean says taking a drink of water. After the game of beer pong, which was a little closer in score than Jean would have enjoyed, he decided to take it easy on the booze so he could actually drive home.

“When does her flight get in anyway?” Armin asks removing his marshmallow from the flame. 

“She told me about 11 when we talked earlier. Said Eren was going to pick her up.” 

At the mention of his name the two look over to see Eren taking a shot with Sasha and Connie. “Did anyone tell him that?” Armin says with a small chuckle. 

Jean looked at his watch, it was only 9, if the bastard stop drinking now he might be sober enough to come get you. So Jean let it slide. 

But Eren didn’t stop drinking. It was now 10:30 and Eren was plastered. Jean watches as Eren and Connie arm wrestle and sighs. What would Y/N think if she saw her boyfriend like this? “Shit,” Jean says standing from his chair around the fire. This gets the attention of Armin and Mikasa who were also over Eren’s drunk bullshit, “What is it?” Armin questions. “Y/N. Eren is supposed to pick her up from the airport in 30 minutes.”

“Well, that’s not happening!” Sasha laughs, also drunk. 

Jean stood up and finished his soda before pulling his car keys from his pocket. 

“And where are you going Horseface? Afraid you’ll lose in arm wrestling?” Eren suddenly joins the conversation. Jean cannot believe this asshole, he doesn’t even realize! Jean contemplates throwing a punch, but that will inevitably start a fight and the airport is almost 40 minutes away so he’ll already be late. So instead, Jean crushes the soda can in his hand and walks away. “Ha! Horseface is a scary cat!” Eren yells at his back before Mikasa smacks Eren on the head. 

Jean’s anger melts through the drive. As upset as he is that Jaeger forgot, Jean is excited to see you. He’s not sure how he’s going to explain this one to you though. He parks his car and glances at the time, 11:15. At least you haven’t been waiting too long. 

Luckily the airport is pretty small and there are only a few incoming flights so it’s not hard to figure out which gate your flight should have landed at. He thinks it's a little odd you haven’t texted him that you landed safely but he dismissed it as he made his way to the gate. Jean is surprised to find the gate empty. No hugging families or people searching for their luggage. There are a few scattered people here and there, also apparently picking up various passengers. After talking with another guy, Jean finds out that the flight had been delayed before take off so it is running late. You were not stranded at the airport, you hadn’t even landed. 

Jean found a seat and began scrolling on his phone. He didn’t expect to have so much time so he didn’t really bring anything with him, not even headphones to listen to music. He sat waiting for what must have been a solid 30 minutes before he started to fall asleep in the chair. 

“Jean!” He hears your voice call, this rouses him from the light sleep. Once he sees your face he can’t help but smile. He stands to walk over to you but is practically knocked over when you throw yourself into his arms. “Hey, stranger.” He says wrapping his arms around you. 

“It feels like it has been forever!” You pull away from him and reach for your suitcase, but Jean beats you to it, grabbing the handle before you can. “I can carry it you know.” But you know it’s useless arguing. Mama Kirstein raised a gentleman, that’s for sure. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at a party?” You ask, giving him a side-eye as you follow him to his car. “Yeah…about that…” Jean still hasn’t figured out exactly what to say about why Eren ditched you. 

“Eren drunk himself stupid, didn’t he?” You say, almost casually. Like you expected it all along. 

“Yeah, but lucky for you I know a guy with a soft spot for you.” Jean places your things in the trunk before opening your car door.

“My shining stallion, always coming to my rescue.”

“Yeah, yeah, get in the car Princess.” He says. Eren’s stupid horse jokes have started rubbing off on you.

You spent the whole drive telling Jean about your trip, even though you talked with him almost every day you were gone. Jean in turn told you all the ridiculous things Sasha and Connie did while you were away. They still had group game night, which surprisingly Eren and Jean only tried to kill each other a handful of times. You laugh when Jean tells you the full story about Connie smashing Sasha’s face into a cake she brought one night, claiming “There is never a bad time for cake.” Sure they all sent you the pictures but you still loved hearing the story. And before you know it Jean pulled up in front of your house. 

He carried your suitcase to the door and turned to you, “I’ll pick you up at 6 alright?” Right, Jean offered to drive you to orientation tomorrow and it was a four-hour drive to the University. With all the excitement of seeing your best friend, you forgot about college tomorrow. “Ugh so early? That’s like 4 hours from now” 

“Unfortunately. Even then we’ll be cutting it close.”

“Fine. I’ll see you at 6.” You say giving him a final hug.

“Jean," you say into his chest, “I’m kind of glad it was you and not Eren that picked me up. I missed you. Thanks for always being there for me.”

“For you. Always.” Jean returns your hug before walking back to his car.

All the days that you were stressed out Feeling like pulling your hair out They were all missing but I was here listening

Freshman year came and went and now you were currently crying over your trigonometry textbook before your final tomorrow. Your other finals had gone pretty well and other than this stupid test you were finished with your first full year of university. Surprisingly Jean and Eren didn’t kill each other despite being suite mates. Originally the two were supposed to be roommates, but Armin quickly volunteered to switch with Jean, the blond being a little more equipped to handle Eren. You on the other hand shared a dorm with Sasha and Mikasa. Since it was the three of you you managed to snag a bigger room and didn’t have to share a bathroom with anyone else. When the gang got together for movie night it was usually in your room since the boys lived just down the hall. Overall it had been a pretty good year. 

Everyone else had already finished their finals, the majority of your group moving back home on Wednesday, except Jean who had his last final today. Jean also offered to stay an extra day so you could drive home together, but he would never say that out loud. “I’m gonna use the extra time to relax since Jaeger is gone. Living with him for a year almost killed me!” He would claim, ever the dramatic. But you knew he was also staying for you since you didn’t have a car and he did a similar thing for winter break. 

Trig had been your worst class all semester. No matter how many times you worked through the problems you were always getting a different answer, usually the wrong one. Armin helped you study for your midterm, but since he was already gone you were left alone. While your overall grade wasn’t bad considering you did all of the extra credit options your professor offered, this test could make or break your final GPA. If you could get at least an 85% it would bump your grade from a high C to a low B. So you have been doing nothing but math since your other finals finished this morning. And you were about to cry. Again. After completing the study guide and taking half a dozen practice tests you aren’t anywhere close to what you needed. After grading your last practice test, you barely managed an 80% and that was being nice to yourself. 

“I’m never going to get this.” You sob, ink running from the tears now spilling onto your paper. Then there is a knock on the door.

“Who’s there?”

“The pizza guy?” Jean says from the other side of your door. At the mention of food, you realize you hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning, which wasn’t saying much since you had a muffin and cup of coffee after Mikasa yelled at you for forgetting to eat earlier in the week. But you didn’t want Jean to see you struggling this much. Yeah, you could talk to him about anything but he was always so gifted when it came to school, even graduated top of the class in high school. So the idea of him seeing you brought to tears by something he saw as easy made your heartache. You were afraid he would accidentally make fun of you in that cocky way he does, or he would offer to help but realize you were a lost cause before ditching you altogether.

“Go away, Jean. I’m studying,” You yell back, attempting to hide the overwhelming stress from your voice.

“Well take a break, I wasn’t joking about the pizza. Mikasa told me you haven’t been eating so you better open this door, Y/N, before I resort to drastic measures.”

You give up getting him to go away, plus that pizza sounds so good. You get up and open the door, “And what would these ‘drastic measures’ be?” 

“Sasha left her keys in our dorm, so I probably would have just walked in.” Jean finally takes a look at your face, and despite your efforts to wipe away your tears, Jean knows you’ve been crying.

“Y/N what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure? You-‘ You cut him off before he can finish. “What kind of pizza did you bring?” 

“Your favorite, of course.” Jean sets the pizza on your bed while you grab some drinks out of the little micro-fridge. Jean glances at your desk and quickly takes in the scattered notes and tear-stained papers. Suddenly it makes sense. Your lack of eating, how you haven’t been responding to texts, and the tears when you opened the door. “I can help you you know? I took Trig last semester.” 

“I told you not to worry about it.” You say attempting to be mad at him for snooping but it’s pointless. You take a seat on the bed and open the pizza box, “Horseface.” You add almost in a whisper. 

Jean visibly shrivels at the name, “No. Not you. Not allowed.”

This small comment was enough to change the subject, and his mild anger at such a stupid name pulls an amused smile out of you. The two of you eat and converse as usual. He tells you about his last final and how Eren left their shared bathroom a mess that he needs to take care of before you leave tomorrow. You talk about how one of your professors just showed a movie during the final period since they are required to hold class despite not actually giving a test. And you feel the stress leave your body, even if just for a moment. 

After a while, Jean looks back over at your desk before grabbing your textbook and the last practice test you took. “This isn’t bad, Y/N, looks like some simple mistakes that you keep making, fix those and you’ll be fine.”

“How can I fix something I don’t know I’m doing wrong?” You ask.

“Because I’m going to help you, idiot.”

Jean proceeds to walk you through your last practice test and showing you the mistakes he was talking about. After helping you do a few more problems, Mr. Kirstein makes you do another practice test that he’s going to grade. While you take the test Jean lays on your bed, scrolling through his phone. He’s trying not to look at you, not wanting to add more pressure to you by feeling watched. 

After you are finished you pass him the paper and watch as he marks up the pages with a red pen. Eventually, he turns to you and gives you back the test, a solid 83%. Not as good as you hoped but you don’t want to discredit Jean’s tutoring. After walking through the test you look at the clock, it's currently 1 A.M. 

“Well Y/N, your test is first thing in the morning and I don’t think stressing yourself out more is going to help you at all.”

“But what am I supposed to do? I need an 85!”

“You need sleep,” Jean says, packing up your study materials.

“One more practice test, then I sleep, I swear.’

“Sleep now. Maybe you can do another in the morning.”

There is no use in arguing with Jean, he always gets his way. Once the study materials were all put away Jean takes your laptop and opens up Netflix, knowing you won’t be able to sleep if you were still worked up. The two of you sit side by side on your bed watching some stupid movie until Jean notices your eyes have closed and your breathing has evened out. As quietly as possible Jean closes the laptop and climbs out of the bed. He puts a blanket over your sleeping form and turns off the light before closing the door to your room. 

The next morning you wake up with a text from Jean. Opening your door you find a fresh coffee and a doughnut waiting on your doorstep. “That idiot.” You mumble to no one, but gratefully pick up the small meal he left for you. After eating you get ready to go and resign to looking over some notes before the exam. Once in the classroom, all the stress from last night comes crashing back. You just have to keep reminding yourself that a C in trig isn’t bad. Your GPA will still be above a 3.0, barely but still. And before you know it your teacher has told you to begin your exam so you log on to your computer and start your test. 

The good thing about the test being on the computer is that you’ll know your results immediately. After going over the answers a second time you finally hit the submit button. You stare at the little blinking cursor as it checks through all your answers, holding your breath. Suddenly your final grade pops up on the screen and you can’t stop the tears that slip from your eyes. You gather your things and head back to your dorm. But you find Jean waiting outside the building, leaning against the car without a care in the world. “JEAN!” You practically scream upon seeing him. He can see the tears on your face, “It’s okay, Y/N. Trig is pointless anyway. You still did great even if you got a C.”

“I did it! Jean, I got a 90%!”

“That’s my girl!” Jean says giving you a high five.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, teach.” You say giving him a big grin.

“Come on, Y/N. I say we get you a celebratory milkshake before we drive home. Jean says opening the door for you. Your eyes follow him as he walks around the car to the driver’s side. You are lucky to have him in your life. Yeah, he can be kind of an ass from time to time, but his heart is always in the right place. 

'Cause I'll be right there (right there) For every minute This time, it's no different Whatever happens you should know 'Cause you're not alone, girl Look over your shoulder You don't have to wonder 'Cause you know, you know, you know You're not alone, girl

[miracleonice87]

’tis the damn season

an Auston Matthews song fic

a/n: based on the absolute masterpiece that is ’tis the damn season by Taylor Swift from evermore. This one was not on my WIP list but came over me as soon as I heard the song when the album dropped. also have no idea how it became my longest piece yet, by far (as in 12k+ whoops). obviously, I do not own any of the music/lyrics to this song nor any other I write about.

summary: Auston Matthews and his ex-girlfriend are reunited in their hometown years after their difficult breakup.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sex, a delicate balance of angst and fluff. a bit of a slow burn, if you want to call it that.

_____

You might have been one of the few people on the planet who disagreed with the phrase, “There’s no place like home for the holidays.” At least, for the last few years, that hadn’t exactly been your sentiment.

But, you were home anyway, after a few weeks of your mother’s guilt tripping and your father’s repeated phone calls. And, admittedly, you were enjoying your quiet time at home with your parents.

After helping your mom bake a few dozen cookies for the Christmas Eve party they were throwing tomorrow night, you wandered upstairs to your childhood bedroom to change out of your flour-covered attire and maybe squeeze in a nap. An undeniable perk of staying with your parents during the holidays — so many opportunities to sleep. As you pulled on a well-worn, long-sleeved ASU t-shirt you found hanging in your closet, your phone rang.

You groaned and swore to yourself that if it was your editor again, you were quitting. She’d already interrupted your time off at least once throughout each of your three days at home thus far — your first week of vacation in the two and a half years you’d been with the fashion magazine. You rolled your eyes and reached for the sounding device on your bed, then recoiled when you saw the contact name — or rather, initials — on the screen.

AM

Oh, god.

Even worse, the years-old contact photo popped up behind the name — a picture of the two of you lying together on the shore on your vacation four years ago, right after the draft, when you both still held onto the naive belief that nothing that had just happened in his world would change things between the two of you.

“Shit,” you whispered, covering your mouth while anxiety coursed through your veins.

You couldn’t just not answer. Right? The two of you were on decent terms, though you couldn’t quite remember the last time you’d spoken — probably seven, eight months ago. You had no good reason to ignore his call.

And after all... you were the one who had ended things.

You cleared your throat and, trying to coach yourself into mustering up some semblance of courage, quickly repeated, “Okay, okay, okay, okay.” Then, like ripping off a bandaid, you hurriedly tapped the green button and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Matthews,” you greeted curtly — tentatively.

“Kels. Come over,” Auston said abruptly, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I know you’re home.”

You squinted and glanced around your room, racking your brain as you tried to figure out how exactly your ex-boyfriend knew your current whereabouts.

“What?” you asked, puzzled, not to mention slightly shocked that he was even interested in seeing you in person — though some part of you was, indeed, grateful for that. “How did you even know I was in Scottsdale?”

“Uh, your Instagram story, my dear,” he said, obviously amused. “You posted this morning from that new coffee shop between the Methodist church and our old school building. Remember?”

You rubbed a hand over your face, suddenly regretting adding him to your close friends list on Instagram six weeks ago after a few glasses of wine with your girlfriends.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, eliciting a chuckle from Auston.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself thinking I sit around and stalk you, sweetheart,” he teased. “I thought about replying but I didn’t wanna slide into your DMs and look like a fuckboy.” He paused, and you opened your mouth to make a halfhearted wisecrack that you didn’t truly mean, but before you could speak, he added, “Plus you probably get so many DMs, I’m sure mine would just get lost in the shuffle.”

Again, you rolled your eyes. “Matthews,” you repeated, whinier now.

“C’mon, Kels. Just come over,” he whined back. “I just got in last night. I’m staying at my parents’ house. My sisters nearly busted down my door when they saw you were back in town, plus I know my mom and dad would love to see you.”

Suddenly, two decades’ worth of memories that you had long ago pushed to the back of your mind flooded all at once to the forefront of your consciousness. Sleepovers watching Disney Channel movies and eating peach rings with Alex and Brey. Brian scooping you up in his arms after a nasty tumble off your bike on their street, propping you on the kitchen counter as he bandaged the scrapes on your knees, Auston never leaving your side nor letting go of your hand. Road trips with Ema to watch Auston play in countless tournaments, with you doing homework in the front seat while Ema sang along to the radio. Matthews family dinners eating Ema’s famous chicken tortilla soup. Vacations and carpool and pickup basketball games and shopping for prom dresses and just the mundane, everyday routine you had been part of for so many years.

And those were just the memories that involved his sisters, his parents. You didn’t dare let your mind uncover the buried memories of him, and him alone.

You missed them. Sometimes you missed them all so much that it made your heart physically ache and your stomach drop and your mouth go dry.

So, you drew a long, deep breath, and against your better judgment, eventually said, “Okay. Fine. But you have to send me your parents’ address. I haven’t been to the new Matthews McMansion.”

Auston huffed on the other end. “So mean to me.”

_____

It was certainly a far cry from the modest old ranch-style house where Auston had spent his childhood.

As you pulled up to the sprawling estate in the bougie part of town and cut your engine, you whispered, “What the fuck am I doing here...”

And still, after a quick check of your makeup in your rearview mirror, you got out of the car, closed your door and pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head, sighing as you took in the four vehicles parked in front of yours in the roundabout driveway, none of which you had ever seen before. Audi, Mercedes, BMW, Porsche. Well, you could guess which one was Auston’s.

You walked up the stone sidewalk and slipped your aviators into your purse — it was only then that you noticed that your hands were trembling.

You cleared your throat and exhaled sharply, willing your nerves to subside, as you arrived at the door and pressed the button on its frame, sounding an elaborate chime inside.

“I got it,” you immediately heard a familiar voice call, and you took a startled step backward as you saw his figure approaching through the decorative glass panes outlining the doorway. As he pulled open the door, the flutter you’d tried your hardest to avoid feeling for three years took flight once more in your belly.

“Matthews,” you greeted again, arms crossed in front of you in hopes of hiding your shaking hands.

“Why’d ya bother to ring the doorbell, you nutjob?” Auston asked with a broad smile.

Before you could throw a snide remark back at him, he pulled you into himself, one arm snaking around your mid-back and the other hand cradling your head to his chest. Inadvertently, you exhaled contentedly, and you swore you felt Auston tighten his grip on you then. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself relax into him for longer than you had intended. He just felt so… familiar. Broad. Strong. Comforting.

He was just… Auston. A thousand things had changed for the two of you, but the way you felt in his presence hadn’t changed since you were a little girl.

You inhaled his cologne, and you noticed that he was doing just the same — breathing in your long-worn Chanel No. 5 perfume, the same kind he used to save up all year to buy you each Christmas.

At that memory, you snapped back to reality and extricated yourself from his embrace, leaving him looking slightly disappointed, though still pleased with your greeting.

“Hi,” you spoke simply as you stared up at him, then chuckled at how stupid that sounded.

“Hi,” he mimicked, head bobbling and eyes widening, causing you both to fall into a giddy fit of nervous laughter over nothing at all.

Just then, you saw Ema’s head pop out from beneath an arched opening toward the back of the house — probably leading to the kitchen, you assumed. Ema was always in the kitchen.

“I thought I heard your laugh,” she sang. You couldn’t help but beam, and Auston smiled and moved out of your way so that you had a direct pathway to his mother. Taking advantage of that, you made a beeline for the petite woman you considered your second mom, already feeling emotion bubbling up in your throat as tears blurred your vision.

“Oh, mija,” Ema said, her voice tight as she met you in the middle of the grand entryway and gathered you into her arms. “Te extrañamos,” (we miss you) she said sincerely.

Auston cupped the back of his neck and quickly looked away then, fearful that he may just shed tears of his own.

You sniffled and murmured, “Los extrañé a todos mucho,” (I missed you all so much) into Ema’s shoulder as she smoothed her hand lovingly over the back of your head.

When you finally parted, moving past the brief sadness of the reunion, Ema still held tightly to your hands, extending her arms so that she could see you better.

“You look more beautiful than ever!” she exclaimed, and you dropped your head bashfully at her compliment. “California is treating you well.”

You nodded. “For the most part,” you remarked with a sigh. Ema glanced quickly from your face to her son’s and back again, deciding not to dwell for too long on that loaded response.

“Well,” she pivoted with a click of her tongue. “You look great. Now come, come! I know Auston’s going to want to steal you away from me, not that I blame him, but I just put on some tea, so let’s sit and have some first.”

“Ma…” Auston protested lightheartedly. Ema wagged her finger at him. “Shh! Mijo! My long lost daughter has returned. Give me ten minutes for a cup of tea with her.”

Auston’s lips parted at her use of the word “daughter,” not that he should have been surprised by it, and you tossed him an animated shrug as Ema pulled you down the hallway back from whence she came. You were right — it was the kitchen, and it was a spectacular one at that.

“Holy…” you trailed off as Ema patted one of the leather barstools at the enormous island in the center of the room. You took a seat, pulling your cross body bag from your shoulder and placing it on the island, and commented, “This kitchen is incredible, Ema. I’m sure you love spending time here.”

Ema nodded and excitedly launched into stories of using all the appliances and gadgets she had never owned before, walking back to the teakettle on the stove as Auston sat down on the nearest barstool, feeling as though he could simply be dreaming, hallucinating, that you were here, sitting with him in his parents’ kitchen. But when you noticed him taking the seat next to yours, you tossed him a classic Kelsey smile and nudged his shoulder with your own, and he felt just slightly more confident that this was reality. Unable to resist your magnetism, which hadn’t faded with time but seemed instead to have only grown stronger, he squeezed your knee beneath the countertop, just as Ema approached with a cup of tea in hand for you.

Choosing to react instead to Ema rather than her son, you grinned and thanked her, feeling Auston’s eyes on you as you lifted the mug to your lips and took small sips, Ema still prattling on happily from the other side of the kitchen. You eventually cast a sidelong glance Auston’s way, accompanied by an amused smirk, the combination of which left him beaming as he looked away from you and back toward his mother, who now approached with two more cups of tea.

“Thanks, Ma,” he said as he wrapped his hands around the mug she offered him.

“You’re welcome, mijo,” Ema replied. “Now Kelsey, honey, how long are you in town?”

“Uh, just until the day after Christmas,” you replied, swirling a finger along the ceramic rim of your mug. “This is the most time I’ve taken off since I started at the magazine,” you admitted with a hint of embarrassment.

Ema nodded. “Your mother said you haven’t made it home for a while. I know they keep you pretty busy there. Is that why you don’t visit so much?” she asked unassumingly.

Auston dropped his head and shuffled his feet awkwardly against the tile floor, and your eyes flickered to him as you racked your brain for an answer that wasn’t a complete lie but also didn’t unmask the whole truth — which was that being in a town that held so much history with your ex was simply too suffocating to bear, even for a quick visit with your parents. So, you typically just stayed in California where you could throw yourself into your work as a fashion writer at a well-known publication and operate under the illusion that you had moved on. From Scottsdale, from Auston, from your life before Los Angeles.

And especially from Toronto.

But the problem was, when the night fell and the lights all faded and you were left to face the truth, you knew in your heart that that’s really all it was — an illusion.

And from 2,500 miles away, Auston knew it, too. He knew it because he was living the same lie.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied sheepishly. “That’s the gist of it. Just, uh, just hard to get away sometimes. My parents usually come out to visit me instead since their schedules are, uh, a little more flexible.”

“Right,” Ema said skeptically as you took a long pull from your mug, despite the hot liquid singing your tongue and making your eyes water. “Well, either way, it’s so good to finally see you here,” she added warmly.

“It’s good to see you too,” you breathed, honesty dripping from that answer.

Auston finally looked at you again, giving you an understanding smile. Even that smallest of gestures made you dizzy.

“So,” you said as you moved away from the topic, sitting up a bit straighter. “Where are the girls? Where’s Brian?”

“Golfing,” Auston answered. “Like always,” he added with a chuckle.

“Why am I not surprised?” you teased, making both Ema and Auston laugh.

“They begged Auston to come with them, but he turned them down,” Ema informed you. “And now we know why.” She lifted her eyebrows and took another sip of her tea as Auston shook his head.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he joked. “But no, they’ll be back soon. They can’t wait to see you.”

You brightened at that, not having seen the Matthews girls in nearly as long as it had been since you’d seen Auston himself, finding it easier to breathe when they weren’t nearby, reminding you of him with their every mannerism. And yet, you’d found that starving yourself of their friendship and their company ached nearly just as much.

“I can’t wait either,” you said through a distant smile.

“And Dad will probably cry more than Mom did when he sees you,” Auston predicted, lifting his mug. Ema swatted at his arm.

“Don’t start with me!” she warned. “I happened to see you choking up out there, too.”

You turned to Auston and raised an accusing brow at him. He simply chuckled into his tea and looked away, and the three of you sat in silence for a beat.

“Come on,” he finally said as he rested his mug on the island, nodding his head in the direction of the sliding glass door at the back of the house. “Lemme show you the patio.”

You nodded, knowing full well that showing off the backyard was not the real reason he was inviting you outside. Despite that knowledge, you hopped off the barstool, put your mug in the sink, and kissed Ema on the cheek as you passed her.

“Thanks for the tea, mamacita,” you said with a smile, squeezing her shoulders. “Anytime, mi amor,” she replied, sending a wink your way as you turned to follow Auston.

He slid open the door and motioned for you to step through it first. When he saw his mother watching you through the kitchen window, he gave her a knowing smirk, and she put her hands up in innocence. But as she watched you two walk out onto the patio through the glass, she breathed a silent prayer to any higher power who would listen that maybe, just maybe, you would finally come home.

Not to Scottsdale, no. Home to Auston.

Meanwhile, you were trailing your hand along the hammock near the pool, taking in the scene and trying to remember to breathe. When you heard him close the door, you turned back to Auston, your eyes floating around the backyard.

“Nice setup they’ve got back here,” you grinned, Auston chuckling with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.

“Yeah, it’s even nicer in the summer,” he commented. You nodded, stepping closer to the pool and lowering yourself to sit on the edge, patting the space next to you as an invitation for Auston to do the same.

“We have chairs, ya know,” he grumbled as he took a seat. “Not all of us like to sit on the floor all day doing yoga.”

You sneered at him. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I do all day long,” you said sarcastically.

“Well, you used to, anyway,” he mumbled.

You gulped as visions of him watching you do precarious yoga poses on the living room floor of his apartment flickered in your mind’s eye, and then, once again, you moved right along.

“So… how’s it going, Matthews? How’s life?” you prompted, not even sure if you truly wanted to hear the answer to your inquiry.

He stretched out his long legs so that his feet were dangling above the water as he wondered where to even begin.

“It’s… it’s good,” he said. “Overall. It’s nice to be home for a few days. Needed that. I missed it. Missed my family. Missed…” he stopped himself, “…other things,” he added under his breath.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and decided to avoid the path he was taking this down. “How’s hockey?” you asked instead.

Auston shifted noticeably at the mention of his career, still painfully aware that, despite the successes it had brought him, it had ultimately caused the demise of your relationship.

“Hockey is… hockey,” he said. “Honestly it’s good on the whole. But the team’s not having the greatest year so far, which is rough.” You nodded, knowing better than most that the Toronto media operated at a different level of intensity and scrutiny than that of nearly all other markets, especially when the Leafs were losing, and especially when new blood was added into the equation, like Auston’s had been when they drafted him.

Like yours had been when you moved there with him.

The spotlight they shone on you — and the subsequent attention you received from so-called fans who took to the internet to question your intentions and integrity — had been far more than you bargained for.

Just as you were about to ask about how the guys on the team were faring, Auston spoke again.

“I think about calling you every time we come to LA, Kels,” he said, fixing his eyes on the neighbor’s house in the distance because he was simply unable to look at you while he admitted it. With a sniff, he added, “I’m not gonna lie about that.”

“Why don’t you?” you asked after a beat, maybe unfairly, studying his familiar profile. His features were the same, of course, but he looked… more mature. Older. Wiser. All that jazz. Auston shrugged, still not capable of looking at you.

“Just didn’t think you’d want me to,” he answered dejectedly. Your heart sank into your stomach. Given the things you’d said when you left him nearly three years ago, you could hardly blame him for that one.

“Well,” you started with a sigh. “I guess we could call it even then, because I think about coming to see you play every time you come to LA. Or Anaheim. Or even Vegas. And obviously Phoenix.”

“Well why didn’t you just call me asking for free tickets then,” he said in a tone that he tried to disguise as facetious, but you heard the hurt seeping into his words. “Everybody else I know in any NHL city does.”

You felt a fierce sense of protectiveness then, clenching your jaw as you tried to calm your irate thoughts. You watched him pick at the sleeve of his black Raiders crewneck and felt deeply for him — this man you’d loved since he was a little boy.

“Do they really? Still?” you asked in monotone.

Auston nodded, squinting in the sunlight. “Yup,” he answered, popping the ‘p.’ “Every game.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, covering your eyes with your hand and pushing into your temples. You blew out a long breath. “Fuck. I’m really sorry about that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I… it just sucks.”

Auston shrugged. “It’s not your fault,” he stated. “Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don’t. Kinda depends on whether the person’s actually talked to me lately.”

You nodded as he chuckled sadly, and you felt your chest tighten. “Well,” you began, clearing your throat. “I guess I wouldn’t qualify then because we haven’t talked much.”

Auston looked at you with intensity surging in his deep brown eyes, and you wanted to look away but found that you couldn’t.

“You always qualify,” he said seriously. “You’re one of the only people that qualifies.”

You bit down, hard, on your bottom lip and grappled internally with the weight of his comment. Then he said sarcastically, “Besides, I know you’re only after my money. I mean, you forced me to buy you that Louis bag the week after I got drafted.”

Your jaw dropped at his joke, and you scoffed indignantly. “Oh, yeah, the one you finally had to hide in my closet after I kept sneaking it back into your car because I wanted you to return it?” you corrected. “Yeah, ya caught me. You know me, Aus. Such a gold digger.”

Auston had started laughing halfway through your quip, but stopped suddenly. You gave him a questioning look, and he paused before answering.

“You called me Aus,” he stated with a smile he tried and failed to hide. “You went back to calling me Matthews after we broke up. But you… you just called me Aus again.”

“Yeah, well...” you grumbled, “Don’t get too excited.” You tossed him a smirk and he mirrored it, basking in the comfort of the moment.

“So whaddya think of the place? Not bad, right?” he finally asked, glancing around the property, back at the house, then settling his focus back on you.

You shrugged. “A little gaudy for my taste, but...” you began, and Auston shook his head bemusedly, knowing he set himself up for that one.

“No, it’s great. I can see how much your mom loves it. In all seriousness, I think it’s amazing, everything you’ve done for your family. Your parents. It’s pretty incredible,” you said earnestly. “I don’t think I said it enough when we were together, but, I’m really proud of you, Aus. And I don’t just mean about the hockey.”

Auston nodded soberly, turning his head to look you in the eye.

“I know you don’t,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Kels. It means a lot coming from you. More, uh… more than you know.”

And then, before you could think twice about doing so, you reached out your hand to rest atop his, feeling its familiar warmth as your fingertips grazed the raised veins there. Auston swallowed hard, blinking at where your hands now met, and slowly wrapped your fingers in his, giving them a squeeze. You exchanged long stares before you eventually slammed on the brakes in your brain and carried on.

“So, you just casually hang out with Justin Bieber now?” you asked, reaching your palms behind you and leaning back. “And the wildest shit is that I saw it first when he posted it, not you.”

Auston chuckled, looking down at his slides and — ironically — Drew socks combo. In his signature way, he halted his laughter on a dime and his face turned somber as he said dryly, “Yeah, I’m like really famous now, yanno?”

You sighed in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you looked skyward, feeling Auston’s gaze turn to you. You let it go for a few moments before shifting only your eyes toward his.

“What?” you asked accusingly. You could tell by the faraway smirk on his face that he was lost in a memory.

“Remember you had posters of him hung up all over your room in like middle school? From Tiger Beat magazine and shit? And now I play video games and mini sticks with the guy,” Auston said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and if you ever tell him about that, I’ll end your life,” you threatened, shoving at his arm and attempting to ignore how much his biceps had grown since you last touched them. And then you were slamming the door shut on a rush of memories of having him beneath your touch — some innocent, but most intimate.

Auston saw it in your eyes — the place you went for a moment — as you dropped your hand back to the concrete beneath you. He knew where you went because, so often, he went there, too.

He held your gaze and promised, “Your secret’s safe with me. You know that.”

Only a hint of a smile graced your lips for a fleeting moment as you ran your fingers through your hair. Suddenly, you felt the heaviness of the history between the two of you closing in — smothering you, like it always did. Auston watched helplessly, wishing it didn’t have to be this hard.

And then, in a flash, like he so often did to save you from your swirling thoughts, he casually changed the topic as he commented, “Your hair’s shorter. You look like your mom. In a good way.”

Blushing, you breathed a laugh through your nose. “Thanks,” you said softly. “I think it’s the highlights, too.”

“It is,” Auston confirmed, and then — damn him — he reached out and looped a lock from the front of your face between his thumb and forefinger, the way he had done a thousand times before, usually mid-conversation, always absentmindedly. This time, you knew, as you forced your eyes to meet his, it was a bit more calculated. “I really like it,” he told you.

You nodded, searching his eyes to try and determine whether he had any idea what this — this moment, this visit, this day — really was.

“If you’re gonna ask me what we’re doing,” Auston spoke, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, “then I have to tell you I have no idea.”

Again, damn him. After all this time, it was like he still lived inside your brain and had read your every thought like the morning paper before you even had the chance to convey it. Which used to save you in a lot of ways. Now it felt kind of… intrusive. But somehow you didn’t mind.

“I had no idea what I was even gonna say when I called you. All I know,” he continued, still flipping the strand of hair around his fingers, “is that I really wanted to see you, and that I was really happy when you came, and that I’m really enjoying this time with you.”

You nodded, and as he pulled his hand from your face, his thumb brushed your jawline just slightly, and that touch alone sent a bolt of lightning through you. Auston smiled softly as he said barely above a whisper, “Okay, now it’s your turn to say something.”

You heaved a sigh, tipping your head back with eyes closed and soaking in the sunshine. “I don’t expect you to know, Aus,” you finally spoke. “I was just so... so shocked, I guess, that you wanted to see me. It’s been so long, I just... I didn’t know when I would see you again.”

“We’ve talked though,” Auston pointed out with a sigh to match yours, pulling a knee to his chest and wrapping his arms around his bent leg. “FaceTimed. Texted.”

You rolled your head toward him. “It’s not the same,” you reasoned softly, hesitantly reaching out your hand to tuck some of his black hair behind his ear. He licked his lips swiftly and placed a peck to your thumb before you slowly withdrew your hand.

“You’re right,” Auston conceded. “Definitely not the same.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt...”

You were snapped out of your private moment by one person’s voice and another person’s squeal behind you.

“Oh, my god!” you yelled as you shot up from the side of the pool, Alexandria and Breyana already scampering toward you from the back door.

“It’s about goddamn time you came back to us!” Alex shrieked, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I missed you, little sister,” she cooed, rubbing her hands across your back, and you hummed in agreement.

“I missed you, Al,” you replied, kissing her temple as you stepped back to greet the youngest of the Matthews clan.

“And you. My baby!” you exclaimed, pulling Breyana into your arms. “The true star athlete of the family,” you teased as she squeezed your waist.

“Damn straight,” Breyana giggled. “I missed you, Kels. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You pulled away, glancing behind you as you saw Auston slowly approaching out of the corner of your eye. “Me either,” you admitted, eyes widening dramatically as the girls snickered at you. “How was golf?”

“Brey smoked us, no surprise,” Alex replied. “But shut up about the golf. Tell us what’s going on with you two.”

“Alex!” Auston warned, shooting her a glare. “Please don’t.”

Alex gave him her best older sister roll of the eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as Breyana looked between the two of you.

“Nope,” Alex refused. “Not until you tell me what’s up. C’mon, spill.”

“We’re just...” you began, swiveling to look Auston’s way as he smirked down at you, happy to let you flounder in this one all on your own. “Visiting,” you finished, nodding once at Alex, pleased with your choice of verbiage.

“Honestly, you guys…” Breyana lamented.

“Visiting, huh?” Alex echoed, growing even more suspicious. “Yeah, okay. Sure. Wear protection. Anyways, uh—“

“Alex!” Auston repeated, this time through clenched teeth. “I swear to god...”

“Anyways, like I was saying,” Alex continued. “Your parents invited us all to their house tomorrow night for the Christmas party. I didn’t think you were gonna be there — does this mean you will?”

You nodded, causing Alex to clap excitedly. “I’ll be there with bells on,” you confirmed. “I already made my shortbread cookies.” All three siblings moaned in delight at the mention of your famous treats.

“Hell yeah! Plus that means we won’t be the only ones escaping to the balcony to drink,” Breyana commented.

“Brey, you’re like twelve,” Auston taunted, earning him a sharp elbow to the ribs from his younger sister. “You don’t get to drink with us.”

“Whatever,” she retorted. “Like you guys weren’t sneaking Mom and Dad’s liquor when you were younger than me.”

“Anyways,” Alex said yet again, clearing her throat. “We’re gonna go back inside now and shower, and just, uh, leave you guys to whatever it is you were doing beside the pool there. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. See ya,” she sang, spinning Breyana by the shoulders and guiding her inside, both girls whispering and giggling all the while. “Kels, I’ll call you tonight — you can tell me all about it!” Alex called over her shoulder, sliding the door closed.

You turned to see a pink tinge to Auston’s cheeks as he muttered, “Sorry,” with a dry laugh. You shook your head.

“No, don’t be,” you insisted, waving him off as you took a seat at the glass picnic table beside you, Auston following your lead. “It wouldn’t be a visit to the Matthews house without Alex torturing the both of us,” you teased.

Auston nodded. “Very true,” he said, and you knew he didn’t want to stop there, but he couldn’t seem to find what he did want to say next.

Instead, you ventured, “So what are your—”

At the very same time, he started, “Kels, would you maybe—”

You both chuckled at yourselves, locking eyes. This certainly wasn’t the first time this had happened in conversations — far from it. And usually, you were about to say the very same thing.

So, you motioned for him to speak first.

He toyed with the band of his watch as he said nervously, “I was just gonna say, uh, would you maybe wanna go to dinner with me? Tonight?”

You sat back in your chair, smirking, fully aware that you were teetering on a damn fine line.

“I was hoping you might say that.”

_____

An hour later, after reuniting with Brian (Auston was right — he cried more than the rest of his family combined when he hugged you), you headed home to change for dinner. As you pulled away from the Matthews house, you were thankful that Auston had offered to follow you in his own vehicle so that he could drive you to dinner, which in turn gave each of you a few minutes to breathe.

Surprisingly, your mother didn’t seem at all shocked to see the guest you had brought back with you. You had told her that you were going to visit the Matthews’, not specifying which member of the family had invited you, though she could venture a guess. When she watched two vehicles pull into the driveway side by side, she inhaled an excited gasp, a smile overwhelming her features as she came to meet you at the front door, just as you laughed at a lame joke Auston cracked about your driving.

Your mother nearly tackled him in a hug, which he warmly returned. He shared a similar bond with your mom to the one you shared with his, which was yet another piece that fit perfectly into the puzzle that was your relationship. So many pieces fit, and so few didn’t, but that still didn’t make things whole.

But, you ignored that thought — and so many others — as you left the two to chat, bounding up the stairs to change, now grateful that you’d brought more than one nice option to wear to the Christmas party tomorrow, considering the rest of your suitcase was filled with comfy loungewear.

How could you have ever planned for this?

After touching up your hair and makeup and putting on the more understated of the dressy outfits you’d brought, you returned to the kitchen where your mom and Auston stood huddled at the counter, near empty glasses of red wine in front of them both.

“Already boozin’, huh?” you teased as you folded your arms in front of you. They chuckled, and Auston glanced at you over his shoulder with a smile. When he laid eyes on you, though, he stood straight up and turned to face you, making no attempt to hide his stare, even in front of your mother. Without taking his gaze off of you, he threw back his final sip of wine and blew out a flustered breath. You knew you were blushing, so you walked past him to your mother, pressing your cheek to hers for an air kiss so as not to mess up your lipstick.

“Sorry to take your favorite boy away from you, but we should head out,” you announced as you looked back at Auston. He cleared his throat, walking to the other side of the countertop to hug your mom again, thanking her for the wine and something else that you didn’t quite catch.

He followed you down the hall, his hand ghosting along the small of your back as you reached for your purse on the coat rack. You looked back and blew a final kiss to your mom, who waved as she watched Auston open the passenger door of his car and help you in — both of you giggling as you crouched into the low-riding vehicle in your skirt and high heels. Like a mom of a young teen, she stood at the window and watched the two of you drive down the block and out of sight, hands clasped together wistfully as she turned back to finish placing the final decorative touches in the living room ahead of tomorrow.

Just a minute later, your dad came through the door from the grocery store, calling for her, sounding nearly breathless.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, smoothing the silk ribbon wrapped around the banister.

“Marie… did I just see Auston driving Kelsey down the road in a Porsche?” he gaped, his brow furrowed, thumb pointed over his shoulder.

She laughed, looking downward as she nodded.

“Yes, you did,” she confirmed, then looked at him as she felt tears welling. “Jack... I can’t say for sure, but I think maybe the girl is finally coming to her senses.”

A smile spread slowly across your father’s face and he came toward your mother, wrapping her in a hug.

“Well…” he began, kissing her temple. “Then maybe we’ll get our Christmas wish after all.”

“And what’s that?” your mom asked.

“For her to be happy again.”

_____

“You look amazing, Kels,” Auston said seriously from the driver’s seat. “Gorgeous.”

You gave him a coy smile and briefly inspected the outfit he’d chosen before leaving his own parents’ house.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Auston grinned and decided he would take that.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to the restaurant you had already known he’d had in mind when he asked you to dinner, without even needing to discuss it. The same Italian restaurant where you’d celebrated infinite birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Days, and other milestones. You fell into easy conversation during drinks and appetizers before Auston told a comical story about his teammates which led to an in that he knew he needed to take. 

“They miss you, you know,” Auston stated cautiously between bites of his shrimp scampi. “Mo. Mitchy. Especially Steph.”

You folded and unfolded the seams of the cloth napkin in your lap, considering your response.

“I miss them, too,” you eventually murmured. “So be real with me. You really like it there now?” you leveled with him.

His demeanor shifted — in a good way — as he replied. “It’s honestly great. I mean, you’d love it there now, Kels. I swear,” Auston said, shaking his head in wonder. “’M not just saying that. I mean, the hype is still there, yes, but it’s not at the level it was when I first started. Mitchy and Mo and Willy and I, all us guys who kinda started out together, we’ve all sort of found our groove with the media and stuff, and for the most part, it’s great. I have a feeling it’ll just keep getting better, too.”

You watched his eyes light up as he spoke about Toronto, relief and happiness washing over you. It didn’t seem so long ago that Auston was curled up on the couch, near tears, head in your lap, feeling incapable of living up to the expectations set for him — almost buckling under the immense pressure, the likes of which he had never felt before.

You let out a teary chuckle, swiping at a teardrop on your cheek that had fallen as he answered, taking you by surprise.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that, Aus,” you told him, holding your hand over your heart as it soared within you.

Auston nodded slightly, and his lips twitched into a sad smile. “There’s still something that doesn’t feel right though,” he confessed, though it didn’t feel much like a secret. “Still something missing.”

“And what’s that?” you asked timidly as you lifted your wine glass, excited for and fearful of his answer at all once.

“You.”

Forcing yourself to swallow your merlot so you didn’t spray it across the table, you put your fist to your mouth, holding it there while you attempted to process his latest, and most brazen, admission.

“I mean… look, there have been a few others,” Auston continued with a mindless shrug. “But never anything serious, and never anyone that I’m not constantly comparing to you in every possible way,” he told you, rolling his fingertips on the table and focusing on his hand as he spoke. “Feel kinda bad actually, because I know they all thought it was something more than it really was, and then I was always the one to break things off. I didn’t purposely lead them on, I just... once I got into it, I realized my feelings just weren’t in it.”

You opened your mouth to speak, hands limp in your lap, and then closed your lips in a tight line as you mulled over his words. You inhaled a shuddering breath and looked down, feeling the same shame that had overcome you countless times before come back again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered without lifting your eyes.

“Kelsey…” Auston spoke firmly. “Look at me. Please.”

You did as he asked, lips pursed, and were met with his adoring, enchanting gaze, always too forgiving of your faults and mistakes.

“It’s okay,” he promised sincerely. “I understand. Trust me on that. I’ve always understood where you were coming from, but it seemed like there was just… just nothing I could do about it. Nothing I could do to make you stay, or to bring you back. That’s what made it so hard. That’s what still makes it so hard.”

You nodded. “Well — what you’re doing right now — whatever this is… it’s working,” you divulged, knowing this was a dangerous game and no longer caring.

“Is it?” Auston asked, a full-blown smile appearing now on his lips. Those lips you missed so damn much.

“Yeah,” you giggled, both of you grinning. “God, I missed your smile, Aus.”

“My smile?” he asked incredulously, then scoffed. “Your smile fucking breaks my heart, Kelsey,” he told you in his deepest tone, biting at the inside of his cheek as if he was trying not to lean across the table and kiss you full on the mouth right then and there.

And now, as you saw that look in his eye that you knew so well, you knew two things.

One, you were fucked. And two, you were in desperate need of a minute.

“I, uh, I gotta run to the ladies’ room,” you told him, standing, feeling unsteady as you pushed in your chair. Auston nodded knowingly and said, “Take all the time you need.”

You brushed a hand over his shoulder, the other holding tightly to your crossbody bag, as you attempted to walk in a straight line toward the restrooms across the restaurant floor. You were only one glass of wine deep, yet this night was making your head feel as fuzzy as if you’d just done a row of shots. Once safely inside the bathroom, you tossed your purse on the counter and held tightly to the sink to try and settle yourself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to control your racing pulse.

Just then, you heard a toilet flush, and your sense of solitude was quickly shattered when you saw a familiar blonde figure step out of the bathroom and lean closer upon recognizing you.

“Kelsey!” she exclaimed, moving toward the sink.

“Holly! Oh, my god,” you laughed as you squeezed her upper arm.

“Here, let me wash my hands and then I’ll give you a real hug,” she promised as you both giggled.

You had been a cheerleader throughout high school, and Holly, a year your senior, had been captain the year before you took on the title. Though you two weren’t particularly close, you had always looked up to her, and you’d kept in touch for a couple of years after you graduated before mostly falling off, save for the occasional hype comment or story reply on social media.

“How are you, girl? You look gorgeous!” she said as she threw her arms around you.

“So do you! I’m doing well, thanks. Home for the holidays,” you offered as she stepped back and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s great! Me, too,” she replied, then smiled mischievously at you. “To be totally honest, uh… I saw you when you were being seated. I didn’t wanna be weird or like, intrude, or anything but… I saw you come in with Auston. Are you guys like… back together?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no,” you laughed nervously, feeling yourself blush under her questioning. “We’re not back together. Just, uh, just two old friends, uh, catching up, ya know?” you reasoned nonchalantly as you reached for your bag.

“Oh. Right. Well... ‘tis the damn season, am I right?” Holly said with a chuckle, her own cheeks slightly flushed as she feared maybe she had made you uncomfortable by addressing the elephant in the room.

“Right,” you nodded cordially, then took a step toward her and patted her hand, wanting to make sure she didn’t think you were upset by her comment. “It’s so good to see you, Hol. I’m gonna head back out there—“

“Kelsey, wait,” Holly said urgently, grasping your arm before you could turn away from her. You blinked at her several times, glancing between her grip and her face as you waited to hear what had gotten into her.

“I just have to tell you... for what it’s worth, you guys still look so happy together,” Holly said. “Even if that’s not what this is. I just... I wanted to tell you that. As someone who has known you both for a long time, Auston never smiles as much as he smiles when he’s with you. It’s just nice to see.”

You gaped at your old friend, speechless, and she scrunched her nose at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cross the line, I just...” she trailed off.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to act casual. “No, no. Not at all. It’s okay. Thank you, for telling me. I just, I gotta run,” you said, leaning in to hug her again. “Bye, Hol. Have a merry Christmas.”

“You too, Kels. See you around,” She smiled as you moved toward the bathroom door. With one last polite nod at her, you exited and escaped to your seat.

As you reached the table, you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching out and running your hand along the back of Auston’s neck and affectionately trailing your fingertips over the short hair there, as you had done for so many years when approaching him and sidling up to him. Instead, you smoothed your hand over your dress and sighed as Auston turned his head to look at you, grinning as he watched you sit.

“You get lost?” he teased. You chuckled, throwing your hair behind your shoulders.

“Something like that,” you muttered, immediately reaching for your glass of wine, which you could tell had been refilled in your absence. Auston hummed in acknowledgement as you took a long sip, watching you all the while.

“One more glass and then we get outta here?” Auston suggested as you set the glass down. You only nodded.

_____

“Remember when you had that old truck, with the tires that were always muddy, and we used to just ride around Scottsdale all night long?” you asked Auston, both of you reminiscing about days gone by after leaving the restaurant.

Auston nodded, running his pointer finger across his upper lip, the other hand on the wheel, as he watched the memory projecting in his mind.

“‘Course I do,” he told you, and you didn’t miss the way his tone changed when he did, making you smirk.

“So, where to next?” you prodded. “Back to Casa de Matthews?”

He shrugged ambiguously, but secretly, he knew just what he wanted to do. “We could just ride around. Like we used to. If you want. I mean, there’s no real reason for us to rush back to our parents’ houses, right?” he said with a snicker.

This could get messy as the mud on the truck tires, you thought, but your response was already tumbling from your lips.

“Okay,” you said, smiling at him. “I’d say let’s go drive through the rich neighborhoods and look at Christmas lights like we used to, but that’s where you and your parents live now, so...” You clicked your tongue and Auston rolled his jaw, acting completely offended to hide how much he had missed you chirping him. The way it melted him.

“We’re still going,” he insisted, turning the wheel at the next intersection and pulling a U-turn. “We’ll just, uh, we’re just gonna maybe skip a couple neighborhoods, that’s all.”

You laughed — a real Kelsey belly laugh — and Auston watched as you lit up his world yet again. He didn’t even need to see any Christmas lights this year. He had all the light he needed right next to him.

Minutes later, he passed the usual first turn on your holiday lights tour and you furrowed your brow.

“Aus, where are you going? I wanted to see Ranchero Nuevo first. We always start there,” you reminded him.

“No, what’s the actual first thing we do when we go see Christmas lights?” Auston asked, pulling instead toward the strip mall at the next light. When you saw the green glow of the Starbucks sign up ahead, you smiled as it dawned on you.

“Get hot chocolate,” you said fondly. Instead of answering, Auston simply sent a soft smile your way. “You’re the greatest,” you lauded, igniting a pride that burned bright in Auston’s chest.

“Anything for you, babe,” he said before he could even realize what he’d just done. He snapped his head your way and saw that you were trying your damnedest not to smile.

He was completely taken aback as you quipped, “You can call me babe for the weekend.”

Auston did a double-take and then nodded once at your phone in your hands, which had just lit up with two missed calls and a particularly accusatory text from one Alex Matthews that you decided you would have to tend to later.

“Write this down,” Auston instructed curtly.

“What do you mean?” you laughed, holding your phone up curiously.

“I want proof that you just said that to me,” he deadpanned, jutting his chin toward your glowing screen and sending you into a fit of laughter.

After you’d both recovered, Auston picked up your drink — large peppermint hot chocolate, like always — and a coffee for himself, and you set off to wind your way through the same neighborhoods you had driven through countless times, admiring most of the decorations and poking fun at the gaudiness of some, laughing all the while, without a care.

As he pulled into a neighborhood you knew to be just a stone’s throw away from where he had recently purchased a house, Auston took a deep breath, fingers gripping the steering wheel rigidly, and decided to take the leap and say what had been circling through his brain since you’d stepped foot in the vehicle after dinner but had only just now worked up the nerve to say.

“What if we didn’t go back to our parents’ places tonight?” he asked abruptly, the words sounding much more jumbled and rushed than they had in his head.

You chuckled anxiously, staring straight ahead. “What do you mean?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pressed on. “Hear me out. What if we just went to my place for the night instead? I don’t mean to like… to hook up, or anything,” he assured. “Just to be together. I just… I really fucking missed you.” 

Uh, whoops. He hadn’t exactly meant to slip that last part in there, but it was too late to turn back now.

There was a lengthy pause and the car was frighteningly silent as you weighed your options.

“Well...” you eventually said, nibbling on your bottom lip. “If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me.”

“Yeah?” Auston asked immediately, searching your face for confirmation that he had just heard you correctly. He couldn’t believe that this — any of this— was really happening.

You nodded.

“Yeah. And… Aus?” you spoke.

“Yes, Kelsey?” he asked softly, joy radiating from his whole being and seeping into his words.

You leaned your head back against the seat and reached to wrap your hand around his on the center console.

“I really fucking missed you, too,” you told him.

_____

“Why did you agree to come with me tonight anyway, Kelsey?”

You and Auston were each almost a full bottle of wine deep by the time he asked this, inhibitions now lowered. He’d barely finished giving you the tour before you were both so palpably overwhelmed by the reality of being alone together in his house, with so many feelings buzzing about frenetically, that you took the liberty of pulling a bottle of red from the wine fridge and asking for glasses and a corkscrew. Auston forked them over without question, and now you were deeply entrenched in the process of examining old battle wounds that had never quite healed.

“Because I missed you,” you answered truthfully. “And also because I owed it to you to accept your invitation when you took a chance by reaching out.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Kels,” he claimed, taking a swig.

You picked up your glass and passed by him as you began to pace the tile floor, unable to just be still during this exchange — this conversation that had been a long time coming.

“I do, though,” you argued. “You gave me everything. Everything. And I still left.”

Auston squeezed the stem of his wine glass so hard he feared he may just shatter it.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for the things I put you through because of my career choice,” he said firmly, a hand splayed against his chest as he accepted the responsibility, just like he always did.

“But you didn’t choose to have the media posted up outside our apartment every day. You didn’t choose to have strangers stalking me and my family online. You didn’t choose to have them calling me a distraction and a leech and a gold digger and a wh—“

“Don’t say it,” he warned as he lifted a finger, referencing the specific instance of the smearing of your character that had left you broken enough to start packing your bags.

“Okay,” you conceded quietly, knowing just how sick that one word had made him. “But listen. Yes, you chose to play hockey. But you didn’t choose all that shit that came along with it. You didn’t know! Hell, you didn’t even get to choose where you played. But even so… honestly, I used to blame you for everything. Because back then, it was just easier for me to deal with it that way.”

Auston’s head hung between his shoulder blades as he leaned his palms against the bar, reliving the very same pain that had eaten away at him for the past three years, especially the acute ache that had come in the weeks immediately after you left.

“I know you did — blame me, that is,” he said softly. “And I understand why.”

You took slow and deliberate steps back to where he stood and rubbed your hand soothingly across his broad back, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“Hey… look at me, huh?” you asked, gently guiding his face toward yours with your fingers. “I don’t blame you, Aus. I don’t,” you assured, your eyes piercing into his. “Not anymore. I’ve grown. I know I did this. I know it’s my fault that we’re like this. I mean, fuck, I broke my own heart, and I know I hurt you. I just... at the time, I didn’t see a way forward on the road we were on.”

Auston’s mind was firing on all cylinders as he tried desperately to compute what he’d just heard, convinced he was gathering more from your words than you meant for him to.

“And now?” he ventured.

He watched as your pained expression turned to one of, dare he even think it, hope.

“I still see it, Aus,” you said. “I still see us ending up together. I know it’s out of the blue, but…”

“It’s not though,” he said, cocking his head a bit to punctuate his point. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, any of this, but… to me, it’s not out of the blue. I’ve wanted this for so long,” he told you. “And I just need you to know that. Regardless of what happens next.”

“Auston, you and me together… that’s the only thing that makes sense. That’s all that’s ever made sense to me,” you said, clarity washing over you. “But I just, I wasn’t ready. And I got so scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle your life that I… I just ran.”

“You can run, Kelsey,” Auston said softly as he, yet again, twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “But only so far.”

“Yeah…” you whispered. Then, without hesitation, you grasped his chin between your forefinger and thumb, turning his face to yours and studying his brown eyes just for a heartbeat before pressing your lips to his.

And for now, that was all that needed to be said.

_____

You hadn’t slept together. But you had slept together.

Too much crying and laughing and kissing and rehashing and wondering aloud had left you both emotionally drained and physically exhausted, and after dragging yourself into the master bathroom to throw on a crewneck and a pair of  Auston’s sweats, you’d promptly fallen asleep in his arms, a smile on his features even in sleep.

The next morning it occurred to you, with your cheek pressed against his bare chest and your legs entangled with his, that Auston’s bed — whether here, or in the house where he grew up, or in Toronto — was the warmest one you’d ever known. Though you could tell by the sunlight flooding the room that it was late in the morning, you couldn’t bear to move away from him. 

Soon, he, too, began to stir. As he squinted in the daylight and peered down at you, he closed his eyes once more, a peaceful grin on his lips.

“Oh, thank god that wasn’t just a dream,” he whispered. You chuckled, your fingertips lazily drawing shapes on his pecs as you nuzzled your head further into his neck.

“Nope,” you established. “This is very, very real.”

You lay in quiet thought for a moment before adding softly, “But what happens now?”

At that, Auston’s eyes opened wider this time, a slight panic visible in his face.

“Well,” he began, smoothing his hand over your head and kissing your hair. “What happens now is that we get some coffee.”

You sighed at his attempt to make light of the situation and pushed yourself to sit straight up in bed, cross-legged in front of where he lay on his side.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you spoke, your fingers pulling anxiously at the bedsheet below. “Yesterday was like a fever dream and now... now we have to face reality.”

Slowly, Auston sat up, too, and pulled you into his lap, allowing you to rest your back against his torso as he gathered your hair at the nape of your neck in a makeshift ponytail.

“Everything that happened yesterday was reality, baby,” he insisted, kissing the crown of your head.

“Our feelings, yes,” you allowed. “But not the rest of it. I mean, fuck, we’re both leaving town in —“ you glanced at the bedside clock and were shocked by the 11:27 that stared back at you, realizing you’d practically slept in half the day — “48 hours. And then what? I go back to LA and you go back to Toronto and we just wonder about—“

“Baby, stop,” Auston begged as he turned you to face him, bringing your forehead to his lips. “Take a breath,” he said, stroking your jaw with his thumbs as he looked down at you, concern etched into his features. “We don’t have to figure all this out right this minute. In fact, we’re not going to. For right now, let’s just let this be what it is. And you have to try and stop spinning your wheels so fast. You’re gonna burn a hole in my floor,” he joked, kissing your nose.

You chuckled sadly, holding his wrists. “You’re right,” you eventually told him. “We’ll figure it out, somehow. I know we will,” you sighed, frowning. “First things first though, I have to get home and help my mom get ready for the party tonight.”

Before you could get out of bed to start gathering your things, Auston circled his arms around your hips and kept you in his lap. “Wait, gimme a smile first,” he requested.

You looked up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile, still distracted by the future of your relationship teetering precariously in the balance.

Auston shook his head. “That’s a fake Kelsey smile,” he accused, accurately. “Don’t even try me.”

With another deep sigh, you muttered, “You’re the only soul who can tell.”

“Who can tell what?” he asked, hugging you tighter.

You looked up at him for a moment, feeling more seen than you had in years. “Which smiles I’m faking,” you said quietly.

A pleased smile twitched at the corners of Auston’s lips before he pressed his mouth to yours.

_____

Auston walked into your parents’ house that night with his understated charm and a devastating ensemble of a maroon suit, white shirt with the top few buttons undone, and black loafers, looking every bit the GQ model he was once upon a time. With two bouquets of red roses and a bottle of champagne in hand, he knocked on the glass and your dad met him enthusiastically at the door.

“What’s the occasion?” your dad then chuckled, a bit puzzled. Auston glanced to where you stood near the staircase, waiting to greet him, and smiled.

“These are for your daughter,” Auston said as he grasped one bouquet. “And these are for your wife,” he said as he gestured toward the other. Your dad raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of you pensively, and let out a loud laugh. “Well, how thoughtful! And the champagne?” your dad asked as Auston stepped toward you and tucked one bunch of roses into your hold. He kissed your cheek chastely and turned back to your dad.

“Well, you never know when you’re gonna have something to celebrate,” Auston said with a smirk. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and your dad clapped Auston’s back appreciatively before leaving the two of you to your moment.

“Thank you, for the flowers,” you said softly, staring up at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a nod before your aunt and uncle suddenly appeared in the doorway, loudly greeting you and pushing their way toward you for hugs as Auston gave them their space and waited for you to become available again.

His patience lasted all of five minutes as he made vague pleasantries with the handful of guests who had already arrived, before he was approaching you again, eager to do what he really came here to do and unable to wait a moment longer. As you turned away from a brief conversation with a longtime next-door neighbor, Auston gently grasped your wrist as he said hastily, “Can I see you outside for a second?”

You didn’t have much of a choice as he led you hurriedly through the formal living room and out the French doors to the balcony, closing them behind you and backing you into a corner, hidden from view.

“Aus, what are you—“

He pressed his body into yours, nudging you back against the rail as he took your face in his hands and kissed you hungrily.

“Doing,” you whispered when he let up, completing your earlier thought as you pressed your fingertips against your swollen lips and looked up at him, your cheeks reddening.

“That,” he answered simply with a small smile. “And I wanted to give you something...”

He patted his pockets to determine where the object was, and your eyes widened.

“Auston, no!” you exclaimed, squeezing his elbows in an attempt to stop his search. “You can’t. I didn’t get you anything. I —”

“Kelsey, are you crazy? Yes, you did,” he said firmly. “Time with you. You gave me time with you. That’s all I’ve wanted for the last three years. That’s more than I could have ever asked for.”

There was nothing you could say then, nothing that sounded worthy enough to hold any significance in such an already meaningful vignette of the two of you. Auston took your silence as his opportunity to pull a mid-sized, square, red leather box from the pocket of his suit jacket, the name “Cartier” imprinted in gold script on the lid.

“Auston, stop,” you warned in a whisper, knowing what was inside and knowing that you would be rendered completely incapable of walking away from him once he offered this gift to you, knowing what it signified for both of you. He shook his head, knowing that your request was an empty one. He propped open the box and placed it on the small wrought iron table in front of you on the balcony. You couldn’t peel your eyes from it as your mind raced with questions.

“How... where... we slept until noon, Aus,” you stuttered. “All the stores were closed. Where did you even buy this?”

He pursed his lips and nodded once, then put his hands into his pockets and admitted, “I’ve had it for almost three years, Kels.”

You blinked again and again, not processing what he’d just revealed.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“I bought this for you for Valentine’s Day three years ago,” he continued. “I bought it and I hid it in my closet and I was gonna give it to you but we broke up on —“

“January 30th...” you whispered. Auston’s brows knit together in agony, and his throat constricted.  

“You remember too,” he stated quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember a little too well,” you said, sniffling as you glanced down at the box again.

Suddenly, your mind drifted back not to that fateful day in his apartment in Toronto, but instead to lying on your stomach as a kid in your family room, flipping through the pages of your favorite issue of your mom’s old Vogue magazines, as Auston used a yardstick and a Nerf ball as makeshift hockey equipment, taking shots at your couch again and again while you soaked in the photos of beautiful models, trendy clothing, and expensive jewelry, as visions of working at a fashion magazine someday twirled through your daydreams.

“Whatcha readin’?” a ten-year-old Auston inquired as he dropped next to you to take a break from his game.

“Vogue,” you answered, turning another page. “Like usual.”

Auston nodded, spotting a pretty woman in a tight black dress and commented, “Cool,” with a laugh. “If you could have anything in that book, what would you pick?”

Ever the master of sass, you rolled your eyes.

“It’s a magazine, Aus,” you corrected with venom in your voice as Auston rolled his own eyes. “But, if I had to pick... I know just what I want,” you informed him, leafing through the issue to get back to an ad in the front. When you finally found what you were seeking, you plopped the magazine down again, smacking your hand onto its glossy pages.

“That,” you said, pointing to the gold bangle. “It’s called the Love Bracelet. It says that it gets bought by somebody you love and then they have to use a screwdriver to put it on you.”

“A screwdriver?!” Auston asked incredulously. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

You giggled. “No, silly,” you drawled. “It doesn’t hurt. But then the person who loves you is the only one who can put it on you or take it off you. You can’t do it by yourself.”

Auston nodded. “Cool,” he repeated, more seriously this time. You sighed wistfully as you gazed down at the bracelet.

“Yeah, but it’s a whole bunch of money, and my dad said he isn’t buying it. He said maybe my husband will get me one someday,” you said sadly. Auston watched your face drop, then, he got an idea.

“How about this,” he offered, nudging you with his elbow. “If I get famous for playing baseball, or hockey I guess, and I make a boatload of money, then I’ll buy you that bracelet. ‘Kay?”

You blushed, hunching your shoulders as you were slightly embarrassed by your best friend’s offer. Still, you loved Auston, and you knew he loved you. He was the only person you wanted to get that bracelet from, except for like, your mom or dad.

“Okay,” you agreed. “You promise?”

Auston dragged his index finger over the left side of his chest. “Cross my heart,” he confirmed.

This time, it was your turn to say, “Cool.”

“I asked my mom to hold onto it,” you heard him telling you now. Now that you’d become the people you’d said you’d be. Now that you both had grown into the farfetched dreams you’d shared as children. Now that you’d come back home — back to one another. Now that he was here, in front of you, again. “I just couldn’t bear to take it back, even though I honestly never thought I’d get the chance to give it to you.”

You were shaking your head endlessly, attempting to stop tears from streaking your face. “I can’t believe this...” you said, awestruck.

“I don’t have to put this on you right now,” Auston said, swallowing his own tears he felt creeping up on him. “I just want you to have it. It’s yours. You should keep it.”

With a few swipes at your undereyes, you rubbed away the wetness on your hands and then extended your left wrist to Auston. A smile flashed briefly across his lips before he set them in a straight line once more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, caution in his voice.

You pulled him in by his waist, beaming, before you answered.

“I’ve played this out basically every night since I left,” you told him. “Even when I was with somebody. I just followed the path my mind was taking me all the way to the very end, until there was no place left to go. And it always leads to you. It always leads me home.”

Auston pulled you into a searing kiss, both of you smiling into it, before he squeezed your hand and reached for the box, carefully disassembling the bracelet so that he could put it on you at last.

“All day I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier. About running,” you spoke as Auston worked on securing the bracelet. “I started running and running and it’s been such a mess since then. Nothing about the past three years made any sense to me. And then I saw you, and… it all made sense again. You and I were the only thing that ever made sense to me,” you told him, your voice wavering as he twisted the final screw into place, lifting the inside of your wrist to his lips and placing a warm, reverent kiss to the skin there, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. “So I’m done. I’m done running, Auston. I can’t run anymore.”

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Auston admitted, touching his forehead to yours before leaning back. “So, to your earlier point... what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

You ran a frazzled hand through your long hair and bit at the inside of your cheek as you formulated your response. “I mean, I have to go back, Aus. I’m working on a really big project...”

Your words put him into a tailspin of his own this time, watching the dreams he had let resurface over the last two days come crashing down in front of him all over again. You were eluding him. Again.

His ears were buzzing so loudly that he barely heard your next words.

“But maybe after that... I could come and spend some time in Toronto?”

Auston pulled his tongue away from the roof of his dry mouth and pleaded, in a voice barely above a whisper, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t say that unless you really mean it,” he said, desperation in his tone.

“I mean, really, I don’t have a choice,” you pointed out with a breathy laugh, your fingers tracing the cold metal of the bangle around your other wrist. “I don’t see any other way that this ends. Not after this. This perfect fucking weekend. I mean... do you?”

“No,” he quickly retorted. “No, I don’t. I was just scared that you... that this was going to be it for you. That we would have this incredible time together and then it would just be another chapter in the Auston and Kelsey history book.”

You smoothed your hands over his lapels, allowing your body to fully relax into his.

“Auston, this... this is different,” you said somberly. “Before, it all just felt like too much. I got scared. We were so young, Aus. I mean, we’re still young, but we were babies. And now... I’ve realized that dealing with the press and the social media and the fans... it’s worth it to me. I’ll never like it. But I love you. And that’s enough. That will always be more than enough for me — being with you. And I’m so sorry that it’s taken me this long, that it took me finally coming back home, to realize that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Kels, please,” Auston whispered, one hand clutching at your hip, the other tangled in the hair at the back of your head as he held onto you with everything he had, knowing he was ready to do so for as long as you would let him. “Just... just say it again, baby. Please?”

“I love you, Aus,” you whispered, tears falling freely down your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m never gonna stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Auston pleaded, nuzzling his nose against yours before pressing his lips to your mouth. “Don’t ever stop. Promise?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Cross my heart,” you whispered, drawing a pretend line across your chest before cupping his cheek and kissing him tenderly.

[bbhyeoliskooks]

I lovveeee your work!!! I have read like everything lol! You’re a great writer, can I request a slow dancing scenario??? Thank you have a great day❤️❤️

˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩ 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ✩•̩̩͙* ˚

➶ TXT’s Reaction to Slow Dancing with You

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

Genre: literally 200 cups of fluff and maybe a pinch of angst if you squint

Warnings: Unedited, long cheesy stuff but other than that, none !

Song: Domino

(Ahhhh ><, thank you so much ~! This is so sweet of you to say and I hope you have a great day too 🥺💞 i’m so sorry that it took so long but I worked really hard on this one ++ got super carried away so you’d like it ! And since you didn’t request a member, I just decided to do all five in scenario format so you can have all princes hehe~~ anyway, i hope you like this ! ps i rlly popped off on soobin i swear 🗿🗿)

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

˚⁺‧. Yeonjun: ˚⁺‧.

Yeonjun was the sweetest boyfriend one could ever ask for.

You wouldn’t have believed it back then that the boy you met at a store as a soon to be fellow classmate would be your boyfriend in the future, the one who gave you surprise kisses out of nowhere just because he wanted to. 

Well ever since you were children, you’d been best friends thanks to your parents chatting it up a storm whenever there was a party or if they met up randomly in the food aisles of Walmart. It was so boring that you would just rather choose to run away into the toy section to find some amusing things like slime or mud perfume, for example. You always hated waiting for them to finish talking about school and children by yourself as you searched for something fun to play with, and when you saw a boy your age with wide, sparkling eyes gazing at you as if you were a nice toy- that was the start of the roller coaster you could call of being Choi Yeonjun’s best friend.

Two years later after that incident, you could vividly remember the way he asked you to be his wife in the future with a cherry ring pop in hand. It was during recess and most of the other children never bothered with him during that time even if he was one of the popular kids. He was always talking about you, talking about how cool you were even if the two of you found some dirt and cherries from the tree to make mud potions with. Adorable five year old Yeonjun took your tiny hand into his and asked you to marry him due to the times you experienced together like running away from the teacher because she looked like a scary green monster or getting yelled at home together since you wandered off by yourselves. Now you couldn’t lie- the only reason you said yes was to eat it later when you got home. But years later, both of you never took it seriously, you had just assumed it was something silly children did in order to act like grownups. Because of this, you could say you truly grew up together and it was so fond to see how the two of you were in fate stuck together, hip by hip. 

High school was so much fun with him, and college was just the same. Besides studying, Yeonjun always made all of your moments in school happy no matter how sad you were. He’d walk and pick you up generously, even waiting after every single chore you volunteered to do for the teacher plus the clubs you attended to. That didn’t mean he kept whining about how much stuff you had to do. The complaining he had when you dragged him along to the library was quite the endearing bunch though, but you wouldn’t be able to give up any second you had of him. He was always right there, right beside your side where you always wanted him to stay. 

And as inevitable as it was, there were countless people whom you loved and lost, but every single time Yeonjun would thankfully be there for you, handing you tissues when you were a mess in bed, spiraling out of control thanks to what love did. Likewise it was the same for you and whenever Yeonjun had a problem with his significant other- plus they eventually broke off- you would always care for him and give him the love that they failed to give. You both figured that life would be fine together as long as you had each other... and maybe that was the push that finally brought you together.

Every single date and argument you had with him only pressed you closer and there was never a dull moment when the two of you were together. You were deeply and irrevocably in love with him and you knew down in your heart that he clearly felt the same way. Choi Yeonjun, although he wore you out whenever he asked for mint ice cream at 1am on a weekday, was the best boyfriend one could ever ask for. 

There was no doubt about it; who wouldn’t give up their entire life just to marry him? Maybe you would ask him or maybe he asked you but knowing him, he would definitely surprise you with the big news whenever you were ready. 

You opened the door after shopping by yourself for a few gifts for Yeonjun- after all, it was your four year anniversary. The front door creaked when you did so, and you winced at the sound which gave your presence away. Great, now the surprise was ruined... however, Yeonjun standing there with a grin on his face was more than good enough- perfect enough that you were left breathless in awe.

He was dressed up, adorned in a black suit that immediately reminded you of the time he first took you out on a date for a fancy dinner. It was perfect. A spotless black tie and everything, you knew he really did his best with the outfit so you would like it. His messy hair was the complete opposite of his tidied up suit, but you weren’t complaining. He still looked as dashing as ever and it made your heart stop in place when he shot you one of those sweet grins, filling up your entire chest with pure love.

You hastily dropped the gifts on the counter, frowning at the difference between the two of you. In a rush to get the presents after a long day of work, you were in your uniform- something that definitely didn’t suit your liking at all. Your anniversary celebration was supposed to be perfect, but here you were ruining it all with your tardiness and clothing. 

In response, Yeonjun’s eyes fell upon the many wrapped up gifts you had taken upon yourself to amaze him with, and you thought he was going to open them due to curiosity. Instead he just took your hand and pulled you to the living room where there was more space, his hand shuffling comfortably to wrap against your waist. 

“Let’s open them later, right now I just want to dance with the love of my life.”

The living room showed how much effort he put into the celebration. You admired the scenery, wondering how long it took for him to do it. With lit, rose scented candles, red petals of the same gorgeous flower sprinkled on the carpet, a soft instrumental of the song “Can’t Help Falling in Love” playing delicately through his speaker, you came to adore the boy in front of you so much more. His words said a lot about loving you already, but when you looked at his actions, it sized up to merely nothing.

“Jjunie, I look like a mess. Won’t you allow me to prepare first before we dance? You put all of this effort for me and I don’t even look good for it,” you muttered quietly, too quiet that you were sure he didn’t hear it. Oh but he did, and he was left feeling a bit somber about your confidence. In that moment he wished he was able to see how much he loved you regardless of your appearance. 

In doing so he pulled you closer, letting you lean comfortably on his shoulder as the two of you swayed gently back and forth. You melted into his embrace, holding him just as much as he did. The chuckle from his chest almost sounding mocking, and he in turn slowly shook his head for the answer. You sighed, knowing how stubborn he was about things like this but at least you gave a try.

Now Yeonjun was pulling you flush against his chest but still rocking you back and forth with him to the rhythm of the song. You hid your face into any part of him you were able to find, feeling embarrassed that he could still make you feel like a teenager in love. Every day was like this with him trying to make you turn into a burning tomato, but gosh did it still get all the heat explode in your face. 

His breath hitched against your ear, practically nipping on it delicately as if you were the most fragile thing on Earth. You shuddered when his voice conjured up a whisper.

“And what makes you think that? To me, you’re the most beautiful person ever and I wouldn’t think any less of it. You’re perfect to me- I’m in love with the prettiest baby there could ever be and I’m glad to call them mine.”

You bit your lip at his words, knowing fully well that it was genuine. 

“I know you tell me this every second with me, but how can I be so sure? Growing up with you was such a blessing and I’m happy as well to be able to receive it, but I’m sure you would fall for someone better.”

“Please, Y/N,” he muttered with sparkles in his eyes, “I only see you. I only want you. And I need only you in order to smile like I do every moment we’re together. I wouldn’t ever be able to get on with life without you, can’t you see? I’m nothing without you and you’re the only person who’s made me this happy.

“Everyday I’m more than grateful to be able to be with you and I know I don’t deserve such a beautiful person like you, inside and out. I still remember chasing you around the playground one Friday and pulling on your pigtails to the point where you cried. I never told you this but I swore to myself that I wouldn’t make someone I loved like you cry ever again like that. How silly was I to not know that the love of my life was in front of me at that moment?”

Saying this he leveled to the ground, bending down on one knee as you gasped in shock. What was he doing?

“I don’t ever want to lose you- I wouldn’t be able to afford it if I ever did. I just want to be with the one and only person who completes me. The one and only person who I can count on whenever I’m sick with the flu. The one and only person who takes me out to mint ice cream at 1am. The one and only person I could really call mine. The one and only person who I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

His hand shuffled in his pocket before pulling a tiny box out and he opened it, showing a tiny sparkling, ring with a resplendent diamond on the top. Not a ring pop, but a real one. You covered your mouth with your shaking hands, feeling a tear fall against your cheek. His eyes were glistening just like the first time you met him and your eyes were the same as his, tearing up because of his sincere words that were nothing less of the truth. 

“So to the person whom I love more than anyone I’ll ever be able to and my true first love... will you marry me?”

He waited for your answer but you just jumped up and pressed your lips against his, showing how much you needed him in a passionate kiss. 

“Y-yes,” you gasped with all your breath, “I’ll marry you, Yeonjun.”

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

˚⁺‧. Soobin: ˚⁺‧.

Soobin was absolutely intolerable.

If teasing you in class in front of everyone even if it was something he viewed as lighthearted, calling you weird in front of a person that you really liked and proceeded to tell the embarrassing stories of when you were both in freshman year, and even picking you up- quite literally- when you were getting a bit too close with another person, then that was it. 

You were so tired of the tricks he was pulling, laughing when you talked back with a frustrated tone or pushing him on the chest whenever it got too much. No matter how many times you told him to screw off after a bad or good day alike, he wouldn’t listen. He must’ve been deaf or something, that’s for sure- because the amount of times you caught him staring at you was just exhausting. 

And you could imagine it- almost every day at school was like this, and you certainly had enough. When will he ever learn to leave you alone? Just a day, you prayed with all your soul throughout the years of high school. Just a day. Please...? However, a life without Soobin was too much of wishful thinking and you knew it entirely deep down. But jeez, was it enough for you to go one day of class without him bothering you incessantly?

As you slid your outfit on for prom, you thought of the first time you met him.

It was a lie to say he was the most grotesque, disgusting person you’d ever laid eyes on. It was totally a lie. So much of a lie that God wouldn’t allow you into heaven for saying something so wrong. 

Yes, you had to admit it: Choi Soobin, your one and only enemy was just the cutest. 

Well at first... you thought he was adorable. Puffy, mochi cheeks that reminded you much of like a bunny’s munching on soft bread at the table in front of yours, you swore you could say back then that he was the one you were waiting for all your life in your teenage mind that is. He always shot you a kind smile that only radiated warmth and maybe if you weren’t too shy to say something, then the two of you could’ve been great friends or possibly something more. But as always you stayed next to your friends, wanting hopelessly that he would be the first person to make the move. That saying by itself was too much though. If he wasn’t such a jerk, then you were sure you would’ve already fallen in love with him by now. 

Events like this piled on you every week and you found yourself staring at him every lunch as he did the same. The eye contact felt like electricity whenever it happened. You were entirely entranced by the boy before you, gazing wishfully that you two would actually get to know each other. You were dying to know what secrets lied under those doe eyes and fresh handsome face, not even able to eat your lunch from how concentrated you were of him. Plus he wasn’t intimidating in the sense many people think, it’s just that you were afraid he was going to judge you when you obviously liked him that much. Every now and then you would catch yourself staring at him during the classes you had with him, and that already said a lot. 

Now here comes the worst part. The absolute worst part that wrecked your very important first impression of yourself to him. 

The story goes like this. You weren’t watching your step after finishing your lunch tray, thoughtlessly bringing it towards the garbage can right across the corner. And with that you weren’t looking who was in front of you, trying to throw his trash away in the opposite trash can on the other side of the room. Unfortunately, with him coming right at you and with you looking towards the ceiling at the ball somehow lodged under the pipes, you crashed into him food and all flying everywhere... and at the boy you tried so hard to talk to. 

Okay, so maybe you deserved all of this torment.

Soobin’s cheeks were so red when the tray made a clamorous sound of a clunk and all of the people in the room slowly realizing, started to laugh at the scene in the middle of the room. The glare he sent you gave you shivers down your back as you kept profusely apologizing, trying to wipe away the food on his uniform shirt to no avail. It was like hell to you, and you had never felt so embarrassed in front of a boy your whole entire life.

Soobin just furrowed his eyebrows at your shaky apologies, bending down to hand you your tray. Like a fool, your heart was pounding in your chest when he pushed the tray into your arms as you murmured yet another sorry. The napkins were useless. Obviously he wasn’t able to take it but out of all the chaos, you could hear him whisper something of “meet me in front of the school gate after school” into your ears. 

And you being the worst person you were after spilling rice all over him just had to do it out of guiltiness. For sure you didn’t know what you were getting into as soon as he opened his mouth, giving you a list of chores just for the fun of it. Getting a can of coke for him at the very top school floor because the vending machine there was somehow better than the other ones, buying him a new shirt even when he was just kidding about it, letting him do your hair for a day to go to school in was all you needed to do on the list, but the torment kept coming. He never let you live it down and at this point you were 

What you weren’t expecting however, was for Soobin to be right there at the dance floor, searching around for someone who wasn’t there. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him in his raven suit, looking as handsome as ever with his entrancing smirk and grinning eyes. You hushed it down, beating your chest down with a hand when you abruptly heard a familiar voice tug at your ears.

“Ah, Y/N! Thank gosh you look terrible today. I guess I have no choice to be your date today, 

Who else could it be?

“Oh, it’s you,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes when that endearing chuckle rolled by. What were you expecting? It wasn’t as if he was going to stop making fun of you just because this was supposed to be one of the memorable nights in your entire life. You begged to differ though. Awkward and stiff, you hoped that you didn’t stick out like a sore toe in all this fun. Many other students looked like they were having the time of their life, but they were a bit... sweaty and stinky? Mostly the boys but you weren’t paying much attention when Soobin was right in front of you. 

“And me- being your date?!” You asked incredulously, looking as if he had committed a crime. “Why me when you literally have the attention of people all over the whole school?”

When you said this his cheeks turned red before he swatted the tint away. Looks like you had an effect on him. You were sure you hit a nerve because he was stuttering now, unable to look in your eyes as if avoiding them would do the trick. You wondered what he was thinking of before his eyes flashed with an unreadable mischievousness. 

“Hey, don’t you think we should dance? This opportunity comes only once in our life. And you don’t know what may happen,” he suggested, tugging gently on your hand. You hadn’t even realized he grabbed it but just the feeling of it made your ears turn hot. Anymore of this and you would faint by the end of the night.

In no time, Soobin led you to the dance floor where everyone else was dancing. The music changed little by little and it was finally the time that every couple was waiting for. Grant that you weren’t a couple, but maybe one time you’ll let it slide. He must’ve planned this- to ask you by now; the smirk said everything. You rolled your eyes and just admired the several colors of light reflecting off the disco ball, letting an ardent smile engrave your face. That is, until he spoke up,

“Oh wow, I can’t believe you said yes. I thought you’d slap me because I asked,” he teased, bringing you along the rhythm of his feet.

You scoffed at him, glaring down at the floor and at his polished shoes.

“Well, I should’ve. But I’m not that mean of a person and I wouldn’t want to embarrass you again.”

His hand slowly slid down to your waist almost as if he was teasing you while you just rocked awkwardly, feeling the breath in your lungs deplete little by little from how suddenly gentle he was. You were so caught off guard, almost paralyzed in your spot from how casual he did this, like he had done it every single day of his life.

“Listen, I know you hate me and all, but don’t be so stiff. You know I won’t hurt you,” he whispered gently, taking you into his arms. Your heart clenched at the forbidden feeling called ‘oh my gosh you’re turning into the naive freshman who didn’t at first know Soobin’s colors,’ but your burning throat didn’t allow yourself to say anything. He’d just make fun of you if you opened your mouth to say something.

Instead you swayed along with him, listening to the sweet music the person in charge put on. The voice sounded familiar, sweet and melodic, drifting through the room of many people who stopped to look at the person responsible. You, however, was completely blind to this, only focusing on the fact that you were dancing with your sworn enemy. 

Soobin’s hands danced to your waist and you shuddered, biting your lips when he suddenly spoke up.

“Isn’t it a nice song?”

Was he kidding? The more you listened to it, the more you fell in love with it. It sounded soft, so sincere that you were left wanting more. But you couldn’t put your finger on who was singing, although it sounded so damn familiar. 

You just nodded, looking at his chest more so than his face. You were too shy to look at him straight in the eyes, those eyes that seemed to smolder you every time you made eye contact with him. It reminded of you before the time you spilled that cursed rice on him, but you didn’t want to think about those memories anymore. It’d only remind you of how perfect everything could’ve turned out and that you wouldn’t have to deal with a boy like him.

Somehow Soobin pulled you even closer, letting his hand linger on your cheek where it stayed. He treated you with the utmost carefulness, cupping your cheek softly like you were the most fragile thing. You melted into it instantly, admiring his warmness and how he could act this way so as to not ruin your night.

“Believe it or not, I wrote this song for you... I asked the DJ to put it on today. It’s funny to me that you can’t even hear your own name in the song. I thought my own voice would sound familiar to you, you silly goose,” he choked out, letting a smile adorn his face when the realization caught onto you. 

Wait... 

That voice...

Was Soobin?!

And he wrote it for you?!

You instantly connected the dots together, looking at him straight in the eyes now. He was kidding. He had to be. But this...? You weren’t able to comprehend that it was written for you due to the fact you thought he hated you. He hated you, right? With everything he was doing, it was so obvious! You ruined his image in the beginning of the year and if you were put into his shoes, you would’ve hated yourself too. But... but why did the song have to be so loving with cheesy lyrics and the most important to mention, your name! 

All this tugging and pulling on your heart- you couldn’t take it! You couldn’t take the signals he kept sending you and then pushing away like you were nothing!

You stopped immediately, making him pause as well.

“Why are you acting like this? Do you genuinely enjoy seeing me frustrated like this? If you do, then it’s not funny. You’re just the worst,” You cried desperately, tearing up as the taste of frustration lingered on your tongue. Explaining yourself when you were mad at him was the worst-- especially when you couldn’t help sobbing along at how upset you were when he said unbelievable, sweet words.

You were about to start on your feet, away from Soobin- away from someone you tried so damn hard to hate after everything he’d done to you, pushing yourself away from his embrace when he grabbed your arm.

Looking at him you could see how genuine he was under those sparkling, doe eyes gazing at you intently with a somber frown. It had seemed like he acknowledged that fact already, but it only made matters worse. 

“Y/N, I just... look, it’s so hard for me to say but I... I really, really like you, alright? I’m so in love with you and everything you do for the time I get to see you whether that be in class or at lunch. The way you look, the way you act, the way you carry yourself when things get hard... gosh, don’t you know what you’ve done to my heart? Why did you have to steal it so quickly when we made eye contact for the first time?”

He started leaning in now, but you were standing too still at the confession. It was stupid, but the tears in your eyes were preventing you from saying anything. He must’ve been kidding- he had to be! He had to be lying... he just had to, right? But the heartfelt words being spilled from his lips proved that he was more in love with you than anyone else and he was showing it right now. 

And at the most vital moment- just before touching your lips with his- he stopped. Robbed you of whatever was going to happen. Took away what freshman and present you wanted most. He was just close enough that you could feel his breath fan across your lips, almost mocking you of how close you were going to get him. 

“Is this okay?” He breathed impatiently, almost glazing his lips against yours to the point where you were considering making the move yourself. 

“Yes, yes it is, stupid. And gosh you have to know how whipped I am for you too,” you shakily blurted out, letting him know how much you really liked him as well. Your hands almost covered your big fat mouth from saying much more, but what was done was unfortunately done. 

That was it. He knew it now. The whole truth you were dying to let him know. You finally said it and the prolonged silence between the two of you made you want to take back your words, but the way Soobin reacted the moment you said that-

it was enough for him to crash his lips against yours. 

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

˚⁺‧. Beomgyu: ˚⁺‧.

“My dearest Y/N, what are you doing out here? Please come back with me to the castle; it isn’t safe to be here, you know that.”

Wait... when did he show up here?

And d-dearest? You had to be hearing things! 

Immediately you stopped hiding your sullen face in your gloved hands, slowly looking up to see the boy you were thinking of the entire time. In all of his dashing presence, you couldn’t help but notice there was a deep frown on his face. It was almost as if he was disappointed in you leaving, and the remorseful tone in his words made it crystal clear. But it didn’t make any sense at all... how could he be in the secret garden you always came to whenever things got rough? He wouldn’t have known anything about it, not unless he followed you here. 

You instantly got up from where you were sitting on the white angel bench, struggling to speak loudly enough for him to hear.

“P-Prince Beomgyu...? Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be there trying to find someone good enough for your betrothed? I thought you didn’t see me... leave...”

Ardently the prince suddenly smiled when you said this, shaking his head in amusement while you scrambled to find words that would fill the empty, comfortable atmosphere. He seemed to be teasing you with his adorable grin, eyes filling with luminous sparkles as the eye contact he kept making with you wouldn’t come to an end. It reminded you of the stars you always wanted to see from up close, the beautiful ones you had studied a few months before with the old books the queen had received years ago when she too was a princess. Yet, you hated how nervous he obviously made you and eventually looked away from his enamoured gaze that held nothing but love.

“I was looking for you, and I guess I looked right. Mind telling me why you’re here now, prince/ss?”

His soft voice warmed your ears all the more, its velvet low timbre echoing through the moonlight as he took a few steps towards you. He reached out his hand easily, waiting for you to take it but you just weren’t able to, not with what happened back there. The look on your face must’ve been priceless when you sensed he was coming closer and you instinctively took a few steps back, unfortunately tripping onto one of the rose bush vines and falling backwards.

Preparing to fall to your ultimate demise, you shut your eyes tightly- not caring if you died right then and there. It wouldn’t matter much anyway, right? What a pretty way to die, right there in front of whom you wanted to call your beloved. 

“Hey, be careful!”

In a split second, you felt someone’s arms wrap around your torso, their hands holding tightly around your waist so you wouldn’t fall. It felt way too familiar to you and you opened your eyes, gasping once you saw who saved you. 

Filling your ears again was the warm, tender voice of Prince Beomgyu who stared right down at you with concern in his expression. You looked up to him with wide eyes, wondering when he was going to level you to the ground as expected. However, it seemed like he wasn’t going to do just that yet; you could see the mischievousness in the smug smirk he was wearing. Then to keep you secure, he brought you closer towards him but didn’t dare to let go of his comfortable position over your waist. 

“You just proved my point,” he murmured, “Why did you come out here when you know it isn’t safe here in the first place, dear?”

The moonlight glistened across his face, showing radiantly his beauty as the heart caged in your chest performed several flips. It was always like this whenever you saw him... wherever, really, at the balls or whenever his family made a trip to Amaryllis Kingdom. Before shuffling away from him on your own accord your eyes flickered to his lips, exhausted to see how much you were entranced by him.

“Why did I come out here? And you’re calling me, your dear?! With all due respect, will you stop acting like you do not know?” 

You scoffed tiredly at his words, dusting yourself off as you pushed him away from you. The pent up frustration was clear in your voice and you almost felt guilty for him, if not for what he did back there. What was he expecting to say when you were angry solely at his actions? An okay? An agreement to go to the castle again when he was more interested in what your best friend had to say?

He shot an incredulous look at you, furrowing his eyebrows until they knit sourly together. “What are you saying? I’m flabbergasted here! Tell me what’s been going on so I can make it better!”

You shook your head back and forth rapidly, pursing your lips as he inched towards you through little steps.

“If you wanted to make it better, then you shouldn’t have avoided me like I was the plague! It’s been such a long time seeing you after the last ball, and I- I miss you terribly... I just don’t understand why you had to leave me to seek out my friend.” Your voice became as quiet as a mouse squeaking when you neared towards the end of your words, holding back at yelling at him when it really wasn’t his fault for finding someone better for his betrothed anyway. It didn’t mean it hurt any less still, knowing that you were so close to the chance of loving someone so sweet and caring like him. 

Beomgyu reached out to you tenderly and this time you took it silently without complaint, watching as he pressed a few kisses on the top of your hand. How could someone cause you to feel so many things in a minute, making your anger vanish the second he let those words fly out of his lips? 

“That wasn’t what I meant to do, prince/ss...”

In a crumbling motion, the rest of your resentment dissipated and dripped into the puddle right beside you. It slowly became into a sadness that even his smile wouldn’t be able to heal, showing you how you should’ve never messed with the entanglements and matters of love. It only indicated how much you were doomed to accept the fact that he would never be yours. 

“Enlighten me, please,” you begged now, ignoring how his blossom lips trembled upon hearing your despondent request. 

Instead he just took your hand into one of his, squeezing tightly so that you would listen. His lace sleeve brushed up against your arm as he went to cup your cheek, making you shudder along with the breeze that flew by the two of you. The warmness of his hand made you lean against it, sighing in relief at how long the desire to at least touch him was finally satisfied. 

“That never was my intention, Y/N. I apologize for making you feel like that, I truly am a fool not to notice. I was talking to your friend to know the things you wanted in an ideal prince. I thought I wouldn’t ever be good enough for you so that took way longer than expected... And I guess I’ve missed you for so long too that I was a bit nervous to face you, but I know that isn’t an excuse either. I’m so sorry for my actions tonight. I’ll make it up to you once we get back to the ballroom.” His thumb rubbed softly against your cheekbone as the desperation in his eyes caught onto you, letting you know how much sincerity there was in both his words and lips.

And yet, you couldn’t help but smile. He was always so caring like this, despite making everything out of humor, and maybe that’s why you fell in love with him.

“You should’ve asked me first, Gyu.” He cringed at the way you seemingly forget to mention his title before you continued again. “You know that you’re more than good enough for me. You’re simply... perfect.” You let the word fall off your lip and the prince again shot you another charming grin that had your heart pitter-pattering in your chest. 

“I know that now,” he teased, pulling you closer to his arms in an embrace. You wallowed in it for a few seconds, hugging him back as well. He laughed at this, letting his chin drop comfortably on the top of your head.

“Now come on, didn’t I say I was going to make it up to you? Let’s head back to the castle now, my love.” He started to lead you out of your secret garden and into the royal pathway, much to your despise. 

You weren’t sure what happened... It seemed like the happiness you just experienced crashed on your shoulders in waves, and you screamed unfortunately right in his ear.

“No!”

You dug your heels into the dirt, forbidding him to go any farther than what he was hoping. He quickly turned back to you after wincing from the abrupt pain, checking up on you worriedly after your outburst. 

“I don’t want to go back there,” you whispered, looking into his eyes this time. It felt like electricity to you- to know that he was right there listening to you, listening to your worries in order to let you know that he cared.

“Why?” He let his hand trail down to tuck a fallen hair strand behind your ear, and you felt all the more guilty for bothering him like this. It was enough for yelling at him needlessly earlier when it wasn’t what he meant to do, but now this? You caught sight of the mud on your ankles, knowing that the king and queen wouldn’t be too happy about it.

“Because... I hate it there. I know we’re royalty- you’re a prince and I’m a prince/ss, but I don’t want any other people looking at you. They don’t know who you’re going to choose as your betrothed yet- it just makes me anticipate whoever you’re going to pick!”

The expression on Prince Beomgyu’s face was absolutely endearing as he ruffled the top of your head, finding entertainment at your embarrassment. You cringed at how your crown almost fell off, trying to slide it back on as Beomgyu did it for you. 

“You’re so cute,” he chuckled, making all the heat in your face become prominent. This effect he had on you was always surprising, and you were sure he knew that from the confession you just made. You internally groaned at yourself. Why should you be shocked when he never misses the chance to say stuff like this?

“Then... how about we slow dance here instead? After all, I’m sure you can hear the blasting music from here,” he suggested, lifting a curious eyebrow for your response. 

True to his words, you could hear most of the strings from the castle below to your secret garden. You weren’t that far from the castle and both of you wanted to give it a chance, so why hold back now? You let him take not only your hand into the melody of “Clair de Lune,” but also your heart. 

He just smiled nervously at you, allowing you to wrap your arms behind his neck. A rush of nostalgia passed through you, reminding you of the time when you first danced together last year at the ballroom. All too familiar, his hands slid towards your waist and you giggled at the tickling sensation, wallowing at how close he was- enough to press a kiss to his button nose. It was easy to follow his swaying movements back and forth, but you were cautious this time not to trip into the thorny rose bushes. 

Beomgyu carefully twirled you beside him, admiring the way your attire followed you along as well.

“Wait, you do know one thing, right?”

You tilted to your head to the side. What he was taking about- you weren’t sure at all. But you let him continue, feeling his arms bring you closer to his chest.

“You do know that... I love you. So much and entirely so. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Prince/ss Y/N. I want to treat you well and make that beautiful smile of yours become a main part of our life together. I want to have children of our own with you and watch them grow up into princes and princesses or whatever they choose to be themselves. I want to love you for the rest of our life and announce you mine.”

He stopped dancing this time, leaning towards you with hooded eyes. You allow him to, choosing to shut your eyes as well. 

“Now tell me,” he whispered, laying a chaste soft kiss to your lips breathlessly, “will you be my queen when the time comes?”

You only nodded back, melting into the kiss as you took him into an affectionate embrace. 

“Yes, of course, my prince.”

Finally... at last, you found your Prince Charming.

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

˚⁺‧. Taehyun: ˚⁺‧.

Needless to say, you were in love with Kang Taehyun. 

You were so in love with the way he made extra time for you in his schedule even if he was busy studying. You were so in love with how he would pick you up despite your protests because apparently he felt unsafe when you weren’t with him. You were so in love with the way he took care of you whenever things got rough and comforted you through the little things like mood swings and disappointment when the waitress forgot to bring out your favorite cake. You were so in love with how he never rushed you into the relationship, promising to wait for you until you were ready. You were so in love with how caring he was towards you; every single day you spent with him made you feel as if you were on top of the world. 

Even curled up in his arms now, you could feel the love you had for him swell in your chest as you looked at the mesmerizing him. He was holding you so gently, so sweetly, letting sweet words fall from his lips in order to make you smile. It obviously worked because you were nothing more than a giggling mess, watching him like a fool to get you to smile. Honestly, he wasn’t that much for public affection, but when it was the only two of you... you were allowed to say that he was clingy and wanted to hold on tight so that you’d never leave. 

The white blanket from beneath you fluttered a little in the breeze and you shivered from how chilly it was. You should’ve brought a coat earlier like Taehyun had said, but it was the summer so it couldn’t have been that cold! You wrapped yourself in your arms, trying to get up if not for the deathly hug of Taehyun. Instead it only encouraged him to hold tighter onto you all the more, squeezing your arms tight in his embrace.

“I told you to wear at least something warmer, Y/N. Now you’re clearly shivering and I don’t want to give up my coat just for you,” he teased and that caused you to hit him playfully on the arm. 

“I didn’t ask for a coat! I love the weather when it’s like this... especially when I’m with you,” you shut your eyes and stuck your tongue at him. The boy just pretended to gag and that made you laugh at his silly reaction.

The birds chirping from up above caught your attention, and you noticed how freely they seemed to be flapping their wings. As corny as it is, maybe one day you’d feel like flying with Taehyun. You weren’t sure how you were going to do it, but you want to make him the happiest he’s ever been in his whole entire life. Hmm... a nice moment of quiet would be good enough for you to think of a solution to that problem. 

Although the silence was nice after that moment, you wanted to do something fun. It’s true that you were already happy since you had the day to spend with him, but this could be the cherry on top before you had to go home. Earlier you went shopping for what he liked and paid for it while he wasn’t looking, despite all of his complaints and tired that definitely hurt your ears. Then the two of you went for ice cream and you teased him about mint flavor before deciding to get the cone. It gave you an idea to have a picnic date with him, minus the food since you already ate lunch together. But it was more than perfect to be with him, really! 

“Taehyun,” you whined, “I’m bored! Don’t you think we should do anything better for your birthday? 

“But it’s pretty,” he pouted, “I thought you liked doing weird stuff like this, you weirdo.”

Rolling your eyes, you picked at the blanket beneath you, kneading it between your fingers as you thought of what to do. “I do, but there has to be a much nicer thing to make your smile wider, you weirdo.”

He let out a huff of amusement, nodding his head along to your idea. “Then what do you think will do that?”

You snickered at his mocking words, swatting his arm away from you so you could get up. He let a grunt of refusal as he let go before you took his hand into yours. He got up soon after with a pearly smile you wouldn’t ever be able to erase from mind. Something like that every day would certainly boost your serotonin if you had to look at it 24/7.

“Hmm... how about we dance?” You shyly suggested, watching his face morph into a sincere smile. It was cheesy, you knew that, but you were hoping Taehyun would at least say yes considering it was his birthday and you wanted him to have fun instead of just looking out into the blue horizon. Not that you were complaining about that though.

“Dance?” He couldn’t help but laugh teasingly at your request, like you had spoken in a language he couldn’t understand. “I know you’re cheesy and all, but dance?! That’s way too-” he gasped when you took him by the hand and started to tug him into a round of slow dancing.

Thankfully you had already set on some light music going on earlier when you had arrived, and it played loud enough so only the two of you could hear it. The one that you heard currently- was it “Sakura Kiss” but the strings version? You recognized it as you watched Taehyun pretend to cringe when you wrapped your arms around him. 

“You’re really weird, I have no clue why I even agreed to do this in the first place.” He stepped towards the back and you were careful not to step on his feet accidentally. Although, that would be pretty funny- not that you’re admitting it!

You just giggled at his words, and he slid his hands to your waist. It felt like sparks to you, pure electricity coursing through your veins the moment he pulled you closer to him. Actually, he was debating whether or not he should start to tickle you, but it would just ruin the moment. Little did you know that he actually wanted to go along with it, guiding you through the music so that you wouldn’t be too stiff when dancing with him.

“But you’re in love with this weirdo, huh?” He wouldn’t answer this one, you were sure. He’d say something about how corny it was and how you could’ve said anything else but that. 

Instead he let one hand come away from your waist before slipping into one of yours.

“Yes, I absolutely am.”

Not only was Taehyun’s wish of being happy on that day came true, but he also got to experience really flying with you even when it wasn’t possible. 

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

˚⁺‧. Kai: ˚⁺‧.

“What are you up to on a late night?”

Well, that’s what you were going to ask your best friend Kai until he so rudely crashed into your house at 1am through the kitchen window despite all of your whines not to do that since he could hurt himself and even worse- break the window itself. You shouldn’t have been surprised at this point when he peeked his head through the door of your room, but how could you not be when there wasn’t any racket downstairs as a sign he was making his grand appearance? And don’t get started on how the door just randomly creaked loudly, giving you a major heart attack that a thief entered your house! 

All of your grumbling and rambling about how he should just go home and rest in his very comfy bed that you somehow accidentally slept in before wasn’t enough for him to leave and he decided to join you in your journey of rewatching Cinderella. You were pleased to have a partner who could make you laugh along the whole experience, but you weren’t sure what he was doing up so late. As it was mentioned above the time just reached 1am and once you were done with this movie, it’d probably be closer to three. Not to mention that it wasn’t safe to come out of his house during the night even if he lived a few houses away.

“Kai, what are you doing here?! Don’t you know how unsafe it is to just randomly pop in to my house at what gosh knows in the morning?” You threw one of the pillows you were laying on towards him, purposely knowing that it was his favorite whenever he came by. Obviously you weren’t going to say you cuddled it to sleep when you missed the boy who didn’t get the chances to visit you, and hopefully he wouldn’t notice how worn down it already was after a few months of use.

Kai just jumped into bed beside you, reaching out a hand to ruffle your hair. 

“Ooh, looks like someone is worried for me~ don’t worry, I brought my favorite plushy to protect me just in case,” he winked at you but you ignored it, focusing on getting the movie on the TV screen instead.

“At least tell me a good reason. I might forgive you this once but it doesn’t mean I condone your actions.” Every time you said this, you forgave him when you really shouldn’t have. It only encouraged him to come all the more, and you knew that through and through. But still! He should really know how worried you get whenever he spontaneously plans his visits to see you! 

Kai just sighed, and you could imagine the disappointed pout on his face. Stealing another glance at him, you weren’t shocked to find out he was doing the exact same thing like you expected. After all, you knew Kai for a really long time not to notice these adorable little habits about him.

“I’m just bored. And Tobin really wanted to see you this time!” He proudly showed the bunny plushy in front of you, and it made you smile a little bit before quickly wiping the effect off. 

“Okay, fine,” you groaned, beckoning him to come cuddle up against you like he always did, “you can stay as long as you like but next time if you aren’t careful, I’m saying no.”

He gladly took the offer, clearly staying in agreement to your words as he snuggled beside you to wait for the movie to finally initiate.

“Ah, thank you, Y/N! I knew I could count on you to be up this late!”

Not even ten minutes passed by since he supposedly broke in like you called it, and heavy rain started to crash down onto the roof. It was nice for moods like this and the white noise of raindrops always managed to calm you down as well, but you were worried for when Kai wanted to go home. How would he get to his house without being soaked? It’d definitely create a wet mess. Well that is... unless he wanted to- no, you shouldn’t get ideas like this, assuming he’s uncomfortable with it! 

But there really was no loss in trying, right? You braced yourself for the hard rejection you knew that was coming. 

“You know,” you bashfully offered, throwing him another fluffy pillow from across the bed so he could get more cozy, “you don’t have to walk out in the rain like that once the movie is done. It’s raining cats and dogs out there. You can always just stay... with me.” You absolutely hated how your voice shriveled up to the end, showing how embarrassed you were to even ask him in the first place. 

He caught it easily, holding it tight to his chest soon after. “You’re acting like I wasn’t going to do that. Why not spend a night with my favorite person in the whole world? Let’s have a sleepover, Y/N~!”

Didn’t he know what he was doing?! And oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, you couldn’t believe it- he actually said yes! But of course, with a few pitter-patter comments here and there. 

What were you thinking? You felt all the hot blood rush to your face and you hid it with another pillow close by. Hoping he would’t hear anything, you just muttered how embarrassed you were to yourself but boy oh boy, he caught it all and grinned in endearment at how cute you were. You wouldn’t be able to see that smile on his face anyway, unfortunately not with the pillow you hid yourself with. 

...

You had been so tangled in the story that you didn’t realize Kai was more focused on you compared to the movie. He would look up to the screen sometimes, however he couldn’t help but look back at you more than the film for some reason. It didn’t mean you didn’t check up on him from time to time to make sure he was feeling completely comfortable. You knew fully well that he was staring at you but you decided to ignore it. At first you thought he was just spacing out, but it was way too coincidental to be true. 

The scene finally got to the part where Cinderella was dancing with Prince Charming, glass slippers and all. As a kid you were always fond of this moment because one day you wanted someone in your life like that. Whoever it may be, as long as they love you for who you really are then you’d be happy to call them your significant other. And yet, every single time you would always be faced with Kai in your mind whenever you dreamed of this. 

“What are you staring at me for?”

“Oh, nothing,” he taunted with a mocking voice before taking your hand into his. Then without a warning, he tugged you up from beside him, pulling you in front of the screen. You laughed at how sudden it was, and cautioned at him a little bit. 

“Kai! Gosh, at least give me a warning before you pull me up,” you whisper-shouted, being careful enough not to create too much noise. Luckily the rain was able to replace the sound of both of you getting up from the creaky bed, serving as another distraction for your parents not to know your best friend was in the room.

As you watched him in confusion, he made no sound grabbing your hands so they’d wrap just below his neck. You asked him what he was doing quietly a few times when he simply shut you down like that, his hands naturally trailing down to your waist as if he was planning something.

When he was done with the finishing dances of preparing the both of you, he noticed you were distracted in Cinderella and the prince dancing and leaned your attention towards him again by grasping your cheek in his right hand. 

“Come on,” he shot you another charming grin that sent your heart into a mayhem, “let’s slow dance.”

You gulped instinctively, nodding your head slowly. 

“O-oh, sure...”

You couldn’t allow yourself to say no. How could you say no when your heart was screaming yes and with him so close to you than he’d ever been? You weren’t the best at slow dancing when you had to cooperate with a partner, but he made it quite easy for you. Although, it wasn’t a big surprise when he could do anything he put his mind to. Kai was simply an excellent musician- he got the hang of the beat so you just followed his lead, letting him sway gently to the sweet song. 

The moment was magnificently magical, enough so that you wanted it to last forever. Eye contact was a bit much for you- especially when you were starting to have forbidden feelings for a friend who most likely doesn’t reciprocate the same ones- but somehow, you found the strength to keep looking at him without quivering up into a nervous ball. As the song played, you memorized every detail of his face as you could, counting his eyelashes to sketching how perfect his nose was in your mind. You were so lucky to have him in your life... you really couldn’t imagine a day without knowing he was there for you.

The rest of the song finished, but you knew he didn’t want to let go just yet. No other words were spoken but with his eyes that followed yours, you were able to tell how much you meant to him. More than a friend or just a friend? You weren’t sure at all, but you knew one thing. With the way he gazed at you- and perhaps you were deluding yourself when you thought this- it was clear to see that his stare was fill of enamor and love towards you and you only. He could’ve been watching the rain fall from outside and race against the windows, yet it seemed like he never wanted to look away either.

Your heart swelled in joy with this, but... at the same time...

When were you ever going to tell him these growing feelings? When were you going to let him know before you inevitably fell in love even deeper? How were you going to do it with all these insecurities of whether he likes you back or not weighing down? There were too many questions for you to really take. In all of this thinking while beside him- you couldn’t be for sure, however you weren’t going to rush yourself because there was still an eternity to spend with him right by your side like he promised. 

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

Posted: 4/8/21- 2:15am 

(OKAY SO LIKE IK I WROTE 9k WORDS FOR THIS SO?? IM SO SORRY IF YOU GOT BORED 😭😭 I ACCIDENTALLY USED ALL THE BIG BRAIN WRITING FOR THIS REQUEST OMG 🧍🧍 also peep me posting this at 2am when i said i was supposed to sleep at 11pm)

Tags:

[mytwistedhome]

𝓝𝓮𝓲𝓰𝓮 𝓛𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓮 ~ 𝓦𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓐𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮'𝓼

Gender-Neutral Reader ; written in present tense & second person pov

I, personally, adore Valentine's Day no matter my relationships, but I know that this day is associated with loneliness for a lot of people, so... this particular story was written for that feeling in mind. I hope you all are able to find love and allow it into your hearts every day in any way.

You're standing at the edge of the wishing well, with beautiful clothes and your hair done well. The air is warm for the coming of March, and the sun melts away the last mounds of shimmering snow on this final February morning.

And, with snow in mind, you remember Neige, whose name and essence is that of snow. He was the one who asked you here just a week ago. It's the reason why you're dressed so nicely right now—he insisted upon a day with you soon, and of course, a day with him by your side was reason enough to look your best. This morning, however, you found it difficult to put the effort into getting ready. There was a hesitance weighing you down upon rising from your bed; an identifiable feeling that made it hard to do much of anything. But, once you started, you found yourself being lifted into a better mood, and you tried to enjoy the process of getting ready and pretty.

Indeed, you look so pretty, but you don't quite feel so as you stare at your reflection in the water of the well. Though your mood as slowly gotten better over the last couple weeks, you still feel a weight at your chest. The loneliness that Valentine's brings when you spend it void of company or gifts.

You wonder if Neige had noticed you down because of that day of love... He had, after all, asked you out after seeing you sad for several days. You appreciate his thought, but you hate to think that this was out of pity, for if it's done of pity, than it isn't sincere.

But... you trust that Neige's intention isn't as such. You know him to be genuine and honest—too sweetly simple to be anything but. You know he only would ask to be with you if he, himself, truly wanted to. He had to.

You let out a breath, a deep exhalation that clears your thoughts, and you focus your gaze back to the water of the well. Slight ripples and waves are made with every small vibration that the water seems to sense, though you don't know what it could possibly be. Something so subtle to make the water tremble?

Oh, but it doesn't matter now. You look up from the well and onto the earth around you. Much of the trees are still bare from having suffered through the winter, but in just a few more weeks, everything would bud and grow green again. Everything will be full of life. You don't quite know if you're excited for or dreading this year's spring. What is spring even like in Twisted Wonderland? You realize, now, that you do not even know.

But, before you can ponder further on the things you still have yet to learn of wonderland, you a familiar voice echoing gently through the barren woods. Soft and beautiful, but projected clearly... how pretty.

The voice grows louder as the prince approaches. It is a song of no words, just voice moving up and down to create a wonderful melody—one that could entrance you for all eternity.

Louder, still, you're able to hear exactly where the voice is coming from. Your turn your head toward a clearing between the trees, catching the shadow of a young man coming into view.

"Neige!" you call out to him and wave your hand in greeting. A wide smile unexpectedly spreads over your lips; you wouldn't have guessed that you'd be as happy as this.

Neige beams when he sees you, his expression so bright it could warm any frigid winter day. Running to you, he exclaims, "I'm so happy you came!"

The joy is shared, you say in your head as Neige gets near. He does not hesitate to hug you at once, embracing you tightly as if he'd missed you dearly.

You hug him back and inhale a sweet scent of apple and daisy. He feels so warm within your arms, and you are so grateful for even this brief affection.

But, of course, the moment cannot last forever, and Neige pulls away, still standing close. "How are you?" he asks, "I know it hasn't been long since I last saw you, but it really seemed like it. You look beautiful!"

"I've been good!" you answer him. It is a white lie, or, perhaps, the goodness you feel within this moment is enough to make all of February become a fond memory. Your heart is beating fast hearing that he missed you enough to feel a drawl in the time spent away from you, and you find yourself smiling ever wider. "How has your week been?"

"It's been really good," he answers with a smile as he leans over the well, "Though, this month has not been the most fun."

Your own smile falters upon hearing that. You had been feeling the same way, and it made you sad to think that Neige could be feeling any similarly...

"Oh, no! Please, don't get the wrong idea!" he rushes to correct his words upon seeing your face fall. "It hasn't been bad at all, just less fun compared to the month before. Winning VDC was such a wonderful moment, but the weeks that followed have felt empty in comparison. That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy them." His sweet expression returns, "What about you? I know you managed the team for Vil. You did a wonderful job! But it must have felt lonely to no longer have rehearsals."

You fluttered your eyelashes, surprised how just spot on he was... The weeks have, indeed, been extremely lonely. You no longer have so many friends at your dorm, and having that companionship you didn't even realize you loved so much stripped away made for such a lonely month, and led to sulking Valentine's. Yes, "lonely" is the perfect word.

You are honest when you answer him, though you try to phrase it in a way that isn't so distressing. "Yes, you're exactly right... I miss the rehearsals and seeing everyone so often. It is lonely without them. I miss them a lot sometimes."

Neige's expression softens into one of understanding and compassion. "I completely know how you feel," he reassures you, "There's always an emptiness when we're no longer able to see the people we've become close to, but that leaves you room to get comfortable with just yourself. You don't have to feel lonely when you're alone!"

"Yes, you're right... thank you, Neige," you say, so appreciative of his kind words. Someone like him must never feel alone... There's enough love in his heart to entertain himself forever. Perhaps there was something to learn from that.

Neige takes your arm and pulls you closer toward the well. "How about we wish to never feel lonely ever again?" he smiles brightly, "I read in a story long ago... if you sing a wish into a well, and it sings it back, than it means the well has heard it, and it's sure to come true."

Your cheeks flush slightly in embarrassment, hesitating to sing in the middle of the woods. "Oh... I'm not sure..." is all your able to muster out, but of course, Neige insists.

"There's nothing to worry! Wouldn't you like to make a wish?" he laughs a little upon saying that, "I guess it is a little silly, but there's no harm in trying. Here, I'll go first."

You watch as Neige leans further over the wall, stretching gracefully with his arms gripping the stone. "I'm wishing~" he sings, his voice a perfect melody. And then, quickly, he turns his ear to the water, eyes growing wide as the well echoes his voice. "Did you hear that?" he asks you, "The well can hear us!"

You nod your head enthusiastically, showing him a beautiful smile. Wonderland is full of wonderful things... Perhaps this well is magic, too.

Neige continues with his song. "I'm wishing~" he repeats, waiting for the well's reply, and then, "For joy when I'm alone~"

The well echoes him perfectly, and you gaze down at the rippling water with so much hope. A small part of you may still doubt the magic that Neige promises, but even just believing, just pretending, is enough for you to enjoy.

"It's your turn...!" he says to you gently, beckoning you not to be shy.

You nod your head bend over the well, pressing your lips together as your heart begins to race. You hesitate a moment, but eventually find the courage to repeat the words he sang. "I'm wishing~" your voice comes out meek and soft, but there is still a faint echo that whispers back.

"Yes!" Neige exclaims, "Keep going!"

You take a breath and, with a bit more confidence, you sing, "For joy when I'm alone~" The well repeats your words clearly, assuring you that it heard, providing you with a hope that it just might come true.

As you straighten yourself beside the well, you feel a blissful lightness at your chest, and you smile true happiness. All the weight of the month sees to slip away, tumbling and drowning into the water below, leaving you with a serenity well-deserved.

You turn to Neige and smile. "Thank you. That was wonderful."

He grins in return. "I know! It's one of my favorite things to do, and you were wonderful."

Your heart flutters, and the two of you laugh together, simply happy to be with each other's company.

Neige soon breaks the pleasant stillness as he reaches his arm out to you. "Come on; we can't stay here all day. Let's take a walk together."

You nod your head and take his arm gently, linking it with yours. You walk together side-by-side across the stony pathway that led out of the woods and into the courtyard of RSA. "It's really a beautiful day," Neige says as he glances at the mounds of melting snow. "I love when the sun shines during winter. Everything is pretty."

You giggle to yourself lightly, "Yes, I agree! It's easy to be happy on a day like this." And you walk on with him, knowing that this will be a wonderful day.

[hotmesshapa]

Hold On • Bang Chan

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: some angst, a whole lotta fluff

word count: 1.6k

warnings: some strong language, descriptions of an anxiety attack

a/n: I started writing this at like 2am one night when I was in my chan feels, then homeboy played Michael Bublé during his last vlive and I took that as my sign to finish it lol. I also highkey recommend the song mentioned in this it totally didn’t make me cry while I was editing this noooo not at all 🖤

You pace back and forth in front of your front door, chewing on your bottom lip, occasionally checking the time on your phone as you impatiently wait for the mail to come. You try to distract yourself by scrolling through instagram and literally every other app you have, but your brain is too focused on one thing: an acceptance letter.

It’s a sunny but chilly Friday of what normally would be a regular week. This week, however, is the week universities send out their acceptance letters, and the first four days were complete agony of not hearing anything back. You had applied to one of the most prestigious graduate schools in the country, one that’s been around for hundreds of years and for some reason didn’t think it needed to upgrade its acceptance announcements with the current century. Honestly, you didn’t know people still sent actual letters anymore, but there’s something a bit comforting in receiving a physical copy of something that could be so important and life-changing to you. You had worked your ass off the day you started your courses in college, ultimately graduating two years ago with high honors and glowing recommendations from a few of your professors. Since then, you managed to score two internships in the film industry, all while working a part-time job and somehow not going completely insane. You did everything you could for a spot in that university’s graduate program, but despite everyone telling you that your acceptance is a sure thing, you still were insanely nervous.

To be honest, you don’t need to go to graduate school. Your bachelor’s degree and internships qualify you for any job you wanted in the industry, let alone your work ethic and resume you’ve built over the past two years. But you love learning, and this is the change to to meet new people and gain new experiences that you could only get from a graduate program. And sure, you didn’t need to apply to such a distinguished school, but the perfectionist inside you wanted the best of the best, and nearly all of your professors and friends encouraged you to apply, so how could you not?

After a few minutes of constant pacing, you check your phone again and let out a shaky breath, your nerves nowhere near being calmed. You sit yourself down in from of the door’s little mail slot and just stare.

“Baby,” Chan chuckles, watching you from the couch as he works on his laptop. “The mail isn’t gonna get here any faster if you stare at the door.”

“I know, but who knows, maybe the mailman will be able to sense my intense gaze from wherever he is and speed over.”

You hear your boyfriend rise from the couch and walk to where you’re planted, sitting behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “You worked hard for this, Y/N, they’d be crazy not to accept you. I’m sure you got in.”

You hum in appreciation and lean back against chest, smiling as he tenderly kisses your temple. Chan, being the actual angel that he is, was one of the main reasons you had managed not to completely lose your shit throughout the entire application process and waiting period. You two know each other like the back of your hand; anytime one of you (mostly you) would get stressed out over something, the other would always be there to help. But for Chan, it’s like he has a sixth sense for knowing when you’re going through it, because he’d be by your side within an instant. He was, and still is, your voice of reason, your comfort, your everything.

He takes your hands in his, gently rubbing circles against your palms. “Don’t worry, I’m sure the letter will arrive any moment now.”

The two of you stare at the door for a few minutes, before you can’t help but check the time on your phone again, and you release a worried sigh, beginning to impatiently tap on the floor. As if he could read your mind, Chan pulls you tighter against his body and snuggles his face into the curve of your neck. “Just relax Y/N.”

Once you manage to calm your nerves down again, he slowly gets up, eliciting a small whimper from you from the loss of his warmth, which only gets you a chuckle in response. “I’m gonna make some hot chocolate, want any?”

“Yes please, with a lot-“

“Of marshmallows, I know,” he laughs as he makes his way to the kitchen.

You smile, resting your chin on your hand, and turn your attention back to the mail slot. You wait as patiently as you possibly can for another five minutes, before you hear a crash from the kitchen. “You okay?” you call out, not taking your eyes off the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine… Just wondering, where do you keep your broom?”

“Christopher Bang, what did you-“

At that exact moment, the mail slot opens and you’re greeted with piles of letters and papers falling into your lap. With shaky hands, you sort through the mail, tossing a couple bills, a magazine, and some weird catalog from a brand you’ve never even heard of aside before finally digging up the letter you’ve been waiting for. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest as you frantically try to rip it open without giving yourself a paper cut.

“Was that the mail? Did it come?” Chan calls out from the kitchen, but you’re too in your own head to put words together to form an answer. 

You finally manage to open up the envelope, your hands trembling as you pull out the letter and slowly unfold it. All the words just seem to blur together, except the ones that catch your attention:

not accepted

In a matter of seconds, you feel yourself spiral. Your breathing begins to become more shallow and quicken, while your mind begins to race a million miles per second, trying to make of what you just read. 

What are you gonna do now? 

All that work, for what, nothing? 

Did you do something wrong?

Is there something wrong with you?

Are you just not good enough? 

A tear falls on the paper you’re holding, smearing the ink stating your failure, but you didn’t even realize you were crying until then. You furiously wipe them away with the back of your hand, but no matter what you do, tears just keep falling, and you can feel yourself beginning to hyperventilate, you whole body trembling. You know this isn’t the end of the world, but then why did it feel like it is?

“Y/N? Did you hear-“

You turn to your boyfriend, and the look on your face must have said it all, because the next thing you know, Chan is engulfing you in a warm hug, stroking your hair as you start to sob into his chest. “Hey, everything’s going to be okay. Y/N, please listen to me. Everything’s going to be okay. We’ll figure something out.” He kisses the top of your head and continues to let you cry as he hugs you close.

It seems like eternity, but you manage to calm yourself down a bit, clinging to Chan’s hoodie while listening to his steady heartbeat, and you finally bring yourself to look up at him. “I just… I just really thought I was gonna get in,” you say quietly, your eyes welling up again.

He gingerly wipes away the tears from your cheeks and offers you a sympathetic smile. “I know, baby, I know. I’m so sorry.” He pulls you back into a hug, rubbing your back to help ease the knots that had build up there from the stress. “Fuck them,” he mumbles against your hair. “It’s their loss for not choosing one of the smartest and hardest working people on this planet.”

You let out a weak laugh in response, grateful for his attempt to crack some jokes to ease the tension. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, closing you eyes to try to get rid of the stress that lingered in your head.

“I have an idea,” Chan suddenly says, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen in the room. He gently pulls away from you, and you watch in confusion as he makes his way across the living room, taking his phone out from his pocket and placing it on the coffee table. 

The next thing you know, Michael Bublé’s “Hold On” fills the room, and a small smile forms on your lips as Chan turns to you, offering his hand. You take it, and he pulls up from where you’re seated and close to his strong body, putting his hands on your waist as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck. Slowly, the two of you begin to sway to the music, and you feel any remaining sadness and tension drain from your body as you dance with your boyfriend, and your smile begins to grow.

“So hold on to me tight, hold on, I promise it will be alright,” Chan’s smooth voice sings along with the music, and he’s looking at you with so much adoration, you can feel your heart swell. “Cause it’s you and me together, and baby all we’ve got is time. So hold on to me, hold on to me tonight,” he continues to serenade you, and you can’t help but giggle, causing him to start giggling as well.

You rest your head on his shoulder, releasing a sigh in content as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you Chan.”

“I love you too.”