#you see someone crying and you offer a hug. you see someone getting hit and you fucking kick their attacker in the back of the head.

[neverendingford]

.

[doestalker]

plug!eren yeager who finds you crying on his front porch during one of his pool parties. makeup running down your cheeks, your body shaking from the cold air hitting your bare skin in the outfit you were wearing, a black bikini top and some mini shorts that hugged your figure.

he sits next to you, lighting up a blunt and asking you what's wrong, eyes glued on the way your chest heaves with each hiccup as you try to calm down.

eren frowns when you tell him you found your boyfriend making out with the girl he told you not to worry about, practically fucking each other with their clothes on. he stays silent for a few seconds, baffled by the idea that someone would have the nerve to cheat on an attractive girl like you.

and he shares that thought as he passes you the blunt. you accept it with a light giggle, taking a puff and looking at him from head to toe. he was wearing a white tee and baggy jeans, his medium-length hair in a half ponytail with a few loose strands framing his sharp features. you notice how the silver of his chains highlighted the green in his eyes. he was undeniably attractive, and the way he stared at you made it clear that he found you cute too.

as you pass him the blunt back, eren asks you who your boyfriend was. his brows shoot up in disbilief when you tell him it was jean kirsten.

saying jean and eren weren't fond of each other would be an understatement. they despised each other. jean saw eren as an arrogant pot-head with no future beyond a life behind bars, while eren viewed jean as a stuck-up hypocrite—someone who talked trash behind his back but came crawling when he needed a fix. their animosity was deeply rooted in their mutual disdain.

the corners of his mouth twitch upward, and a sparkle of mischief dances in his eyes as he offers you a way to get back at jean. he's practically brimming with excitement at the thought of how furious that horse-faced idiot would get when he sees you with him. you don't know if it's the mix of alcohol and weed or eren's deliciously intoxicating aura, but you think it's a good plan—great even—so you agree.

next thing you know, you're down to your bikini, clinging onto eren's shoulders as you make out with him in the pool. his lips are soft and wet from the pool water, and his tongue—exploring posessively the inside of your mouth, tastes like raspberry vodka. your hand glides easily through his damp hair, grip tightening as he nips at your lower lip, his teeth sinking gently into the soft flesh. his fingers dig firmly into the sides of your hips, holding you tight against his firm torso.

you felt someone's gaze burning into you, so when you pull away from the kiss, you turn your head and meet with jean's eyes.

you wanted to laugh. he looked so furious even though the same girl he was making out with before was wrapped around him.

"what a fucking clown," eren muttered softly against your ear. "how could something like him bag someone like you?" there was a hint of something in his voice, but you couldn't manage to figure out what.

you answered him with another kiss. now that you knew jean was looking at you, you made sure to put on a show. your legs were now tangled around eren's waist, and your tongue danced with his, your lips making an erotic wet noise as you explored each other hungrily. you've never kissed jean like these, not in public at least.

a small, high-pitched giggle escaped your lips as he boldly moved down his hands to greedily grab your ass and guide you both towards the edge of the pool. all the while, his lips remained locked on yours, his kiss unbroken as he manouverd the both of you out of the water.

the cold air hit your body the moment it was out of the pool, sending a shiver down your spine and making you stay against eren's impossibly warm body. he looked down at you with a soft smile, tucking a loose hairstrand behind your ear.

or,

plug!eren yeager who has his hand firmly planted on the back of your head, pushing it into the matress, while he pounds into you. your clothes are now scattered around his bedroom along with his and the loud music blasting from the backyard couldn't muffle the wet sounds of your pussy swallowing his length.

"ahh, eren~" you whined, barely able to breath with the suffocating pressure of his hand and the rapid pace of his hips.

"yeah? you like that?" he said, and you could hear the smirk on his face. he took a long drag of his blunt, his thrusts slowing a bit, just to tease you. and when his lungs were full of the intoxicating smoke, he pulled you close to him by your hair. grabbing you by the cheeks with his other hand, he blew the smoke into your open mouth. "take it, baby," eren ordered.

you aspired as much as you could, already feeling lightheaded, then exhaled the smoke back into his face. eren smiled, proud, and gave you a wet kiss on the cheek. "that's it, baby, good girl." you moaned at his praise.

eren brings the blunt close to your lips, he didn't need to say anything as you took a drag from it. it was kinda difficult, since he was still pounding into you, so it took two tries to line the filter with your mouth.

"good. girl." groaned the brunette through gritted teeth, his lustful eyes almost completely black from his dilated pupils. it was now your turn to shotgun the smoke into his mouth, and of course he took it like a champ.

he puts the blunt away on a small tray next to you, which had rolling papers, filters and a lighter. it was your idea to take this to his bedroom after that panty-dropping kiss, but it was his idea to roll a blunt while he was buried deep inside your cunt. but goddammit if it wasn't hot.

you were used to having boring sex with jean. the missionary only kinda sex. you've always desired to be manhandled, for him to take you from behind, to slap you or to spank you. it never happenned though, and you didn't push it too much.

but now? oh boy.

eren was fucking you like a beast. the way he pounds his cock into your cervix, in contrast with the way he praises you like you are the prettiest girl he's ever been with? it was all driving you equally crazy and to your climax. you swear you started seeing stars.

"i'm gonna cum, babygirl, m'gonna fill up that tight little pussy, hm?" eren pants, sliding his hand through the curve of your arched back, back and forth, until it's resting against your ass cheek and leaves a hard slap there.

"erenn! please, fill me up," you whined, voice muffled by the matress. "fu-uuck, i'm gonna cum~"

"cum on my dick, princess, want you to cream my fucking cock like a good girl."

let's just say, jean had no way of winning you back now that you tried plug!eren yeager's cock.

[skeltnwrites]

A/N: I think this is the first time I've ever been so emotional about something I've written 😭 this hit a little too close to home for me

Summary: You help Eddie wash his hair when he can't. | 0.9k words

TW: depression, best friend!reader

“Nooo,” Eddie whines, voice muffled by blankets. “Stop– Seriously!” 

Your grip around his ankle only tightens from where you’ve fished it out of his cocoon. You tug, ripping his sock off in the process, until he’s halfway off the couch, clinging onto a cushion like his life depends on it. 

“You’re so annoying,” he slumps into a sitting position on the floor, eyes peaking out of the fold in his comforter. 

You crouch in front of your best friend. “Yes, but you love me.” 

He leans away when you peel the corner of the blanket away. He’s pale, which is typical, but it’s summer and he looks borderline vampirish with how visible his veins are. A palm brushes his bangs back to meet the knot secured to his crown. He bends away from your touch a second time. 

“Hair’s greasy,” he mumbles; a weak excuse, like you’d ever care about that. 

“I can wash it for you,” you offer seriously. 

His lips tilt into a sort of smile and his brows knit together, “What? Like in the sink?” 

“If you want?” 

He hums, “Prolly uncomfortable.” 

“Okay, in the shower then.”

A real smile this time. “If you want to see me naked just say that.” 

You punch his shoulder lightly. Normally you’d shove him hard without a second thought, and he’d probably push back equally, but it feels wrong to do so when you know he won’t put up a fight. “You can put swim trunks on.”

“I don’t feel like changing.”

“Okay, then in this.” You pinch the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. 

“That’s a little weird.”

“Since when do you care about weird?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, “I guess. If you want.” 

In the bathroom, you turn the shower knob, “Hot or cold?” 

“Warm.” He’s slumped on the toilet lid in his pajamas, having ditched the duvet in the hall. 

“Okay, here.” You whisk the curtain open fully. 

He shoots you a look that says, ‘Am I really doing this?’ before stepping into the tub. His eyes widen when you climb in right after him.

“You’re crazy,” he grins and it makes your heart leap. You’ve missed the way his eyes crinkle at the edges and his lashes kiss the tips of his cheeks when he smiles. 

“Not as crazy as you.” You hook a finger under his scrunchie, gently working it until his curls spill over his shoulders. 

He sighs, eyes drawing shut when you tilt his head back. His clothes are already soaked through, clinging to his slender frame like a second skin. He blocks most of the stream but stray droplets catch your arms where they connect with his head.  

“Have you eaten yet?” You ask, massaging shampoo through his hairline. “I could go for some takeout right about now.” 

He blinks at you. “I know what you’re doing.”

You crane his head to the side to scrub his nape, “I’m not doing anything. I’m hungry.”

You’re not looking, but you practically feel him roll his eyes. 

“So, pizza?” 

He knows you only suggest it because it’s his comfort food, but he’s too tired to argue about getting something you both want. Eddie nods into your hand. You thumb his cheek, studying him self-indulgently while his eyes are sealed again. 

You work conditioner through his dead ends, tenderly detangling, and sticking spirals of black hair on the shower wall as they are combed out. 

Silent tears mingle with the water dripping off his chin. The tremble in his breath gives him away and you acknowledge it with a wordless hug. He reciprocates, squeezing you under the warmth of the showerhead. His nose digs into your collarbone and you trace the knobs on his spine. 

This is not the first time you’ve seen him cry, or held him while he did, for that matter. You are well-versed in handling his depressive episodes. Knowing when to push and when not to pry. Knowing when to hold him and when to give him space. And most importantly knowing that most of the time he just needs someone there. Not to talk about it necessarily but to just be with him for a night so he can pretend not to feel like shit for a few hours. 

You wrap him in a towel and scour his room for fresh pajamas. There was a time when he’d have been embarrassed to let you see his room in such a state, but you’ve drilled it into his head that you love all of him, even the messier parts. 

You change out of damp clothes in his room while he does in the bathroom. A handful of his things are put away while you’re in there, but not enough for him to scold you for doing so. 

He meets you back in the living room where he sinks back into his spot in front of the TV. You dial his favorite pizza place before joining him on the couch to brush and braid his hair. He thanks you, though you don’t need it. 

With his legs thrown across your lap and half a greasy pie split between your bellies, the hum of a movie soothes you both to sleep. Outside, the world spins on, but for now, here with him, everything feels still.

[casuallyimagining]

Set Me Free || myg

min yoongi x female reader

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: 14,377 Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), alcohol, soulmate breakup, smooching

Notes: banner by @itaeewon. thank you to @daechwitatamic and @oddinary4bts for beta-ing and listening to me struggle my way through this. as always. and extra thanks to ella for helping me write Yoongi's letters and to my friend tanya for giving me a super helpful base for the ending.

It’s cold. The late autumn wind rustles through amber-brown-orange-yellow leaves, swirling the fallen ones into little tornadoes that scuttle across the pavement. The cold doesn’t bother Yoongi, necessarily. It’s been a while since he’s been here, in this town, on this street, but even after so much time, his body remembers the chill of November in the same way his feet remember the way to his destination. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and pauses at the street corner.

It’s strange being back here. He’d once known this neighborhood so intimately, he could map it in his sleep. Not much has changed in the almost 13 years he’s been gone. The park on the corner is the same. The playground, massive to an eight-year-old with a near-infinite imagination, stands resolute, its plastic and paint sun-faded and weathered. Further up the block is the head of the trail that snakes its way through the forest, where he’d spent countless hours playing pirates as a kid and exploring as a teen. And there, at the end of the street, is his destination.

The closer he gets, the more his stomach roils with nerves. Thirteen years since he’d walked down this sidewalk. Thirteen years since he’d walked onto that front porch. Or rather, 12 years, 5 months, and 11 days. 

But who’s counting?

There’s a light on in the front room of the house, he can see it through the big window despite the shades being pulled closed. He hesitates. He’s spent days–no, weeks–playing out in his head how this was going to go. In a moment, he’ll know if any of those scenarios were correct. And frankly, right now, he’s terrified. 

What if you start to cry? What if you slam the door in his face? What if you hug him? What if you yell at him? What if you don’t answer? What if you want to talk? What if you never want to see him again? What if you invite him in? What if you have someone over?

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

It takes a second. He can hear shuffling around on the other side of the door, so he knows his knock was heard. But the longer it takes, the sweatier his hands get, and the more he considers turning and running away. The door opens before he can make a move.

You stand in the doorway, bathed in the warm light of the living room lamp behind you. And shit, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. In many ways, you haven’t changed since the last time he saw you, but at the same time, you look so different. He can see in your eyes the moment the realization hits, and your expression changes drastically. You looked tired–and Yoongi can sense that it goes deeper than just physical exhaustion–and you were slouching, but now, you’re standing ramrod straight, and there’s a hard look in your eyes. One he knows all too well.

“Hey.” He raises a hand, offers a wave that, in hindsight, is rather pathetic. You stare at him, unblinking, and slowly, he lowers his hand. “I uh… I heard about your parents,” he says softly, scuffing his shoe against the wood of the porch. “I’m sorry you have to go through it.”

“Brave of you to show up.” You sound almost bored, but Yoongi knows–he senses, in that kind of primal, gut feeling he gets when it comes to you–that it’s an act. “You know I could turn you into a bug and squash you if I wanted to.”

“I know.”

There’s a tense moment where you stare at each other, the scowl you wear pulling your lips downward and creasing your brow. But then you heave an exhausted sigh.

“Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I…” 

I want to apologize. 

I’m so sorry.

I miss you.

It all catches in his throat. He coughs in a meager attempt to entice something–anything–to come out of his mouth. “I wanted you to have this.”

He holds out his hands, and in an instant, he’s holding a box. It’s full but not heavy, and he thrusts it out in front of him in your direction.

“A 10-year-old shoebox?” You do nothing to mask your surprise. 

“Letters,” he corrects. “You don’t have to read them but… I wanted you to have them.” He pushes the box into your arms, leaving you no choice but to take it. Then, he steps away and nods his head. “Thank you for not turning me into a bug. I am sorry about your parents. I… guess I’ll go.”

Without another word, he trots down the porch steps. And then, in a blink, he’s gone. Disappeared into the night.

You sigh and shut the door, the box he’d given you cradled in the crook of your arm. You don’t have the energy for this right now. Honestly, you aren’t sure that you’ll ever have the energy for it, but certainly not the day before your parents’ funeral.

Whoever had decided that witches and their familiars die together clearly never thought of the ones left behind.

You collapse onto the couch, placing the box beside you. This would be easier if you weren’t alone. It would be easier with Yoongi, your brain supplies less than helpfully. You curse yourself. You curse him. After all these years, you thought you were over it, over the abandonment, over the betrayal. But all it takes is for him to show his stupid face, and you can feel it all bubbling up anew. Angrily, you push the box off the couch. It explodes when it hits the floor, what seems like thousands of pieces of paper tumble out and scatter from the force.

The forest was almost silent as you stalked the trail. Not even the birds were happy that day. Twigs snapped under your feet. You weren’t even paying attention to where you were going, your feet carrying you along the path that you’d hiked countless times before. You needed to get away, to escape, to calm down. But you couldn’t, because what you were running away from was hot on your heels.

“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”

Quite frankly, you didn’t care what he had to say in that moment.

“It wouldn’t be a permanent thing,” he continued. “I just… I don’t know. I need to do this.”

You stopped, sliding a little on the damp new growth below your feet. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not being oppressed, Yoongi. No one’s stopping you from going out and exploring the world.”

“Maybe this way of life isn’t for everyone. Maybe not everyone wants their whole existence to be predetermined at birth. Maybe not everyone wants the universe to choose who they’re supposed to be with and how they’re supposed to live.”

His words stung, and until then, you weren’t quite sure why. Rejection. Not just of how you lived, and who he was, and how things had always been. But of you. Yoongi was your familiar, you were destined to be together in some way since you were six years old and the bond gem first appeared. Not all witches and familiars were in romantic relationships–your parents were, sure, and Yoongi’s parents–but plenty of them had other partners, lives separate from each other. Platonic soulmates navigating the world together.

Until a few months before, you’d been content with that. There was no doubt you’d been best friends from the jump. You’d been practically inseparable through school. Then, months before, he’d kissed you at the winter market. Right there in the park, under the aurora. Before that, you hadn’t thought of him as any more than your best friend. But the kiss had unlocked something inside you. And now…

Now he wanted you gone. 

“You want to be free that badly?” By some miracle, your voice sounded positively venomous, even though you felt like you could crumble at any moment. “Fine.”

“Wh-”

There’s a saying your mother told you once, back when you were a child. You and Yoongi had found a turtle in the woods, stuck in the mud. His little turtle leg had been hurt, and you’d rushed it to your mother immediately. Familiars were excellent with animals, and she was no exception, healing the turtle in days when it should have taken weeks. You and Yoongi had both cried when you had to release it back into the wild–you’d both so wanted it to be your friend. ‘If you love something, set it free,’ your mother had said, ‘Sometimes it’s the kindest option.’

Kinder for whom?

The chain around your wrist snapped easily when you wrapped your fingers around it. The incantation meant to keep the bond gem safe became meaningless as soon as you wanted it gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been without it around your wrist. You loved it, with its gem of swirling, inky black and navy blue. It reminded you so much of Yoongi, deep and calm and unwavering. 

Without a word, you tossed the bracelet to the ground. Yoongi’s eyes widened as it hit and the gem cracked. For good measure, you stepped on it, crushed it into dust. There was a pitiful swirl of blue magic that puffed up from the dirt. When you moved your foot, there was nothing left of the bond gem or its chain.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi’s eyes were glassy when you finally looked at him. He looked almost as crushed as you felt. “What the fuck?”

“You’re free.” And this time, you couldn’t hide your sadness behind your anger. 

He didn’t follow you as you walked away, and honestly, it was for the best. It was faint, but you could still feel his emotions, and you weren’t sure you could handle that kind of heartache in person.

There is paper everywhere. Hundreds of pieces, folded neatly in thirds. You have no idea how Yoongi had fit them all into the shoebox. He must’ve enchanted it. Groaning, you start to pick them up. 

Letters, he’d said. You flip through some as you gather them up. Now that they’re on the floor, they aren’t in any particular order, but it quickly becomes clear that these letters span years. There are some from 12 years ago, written shortly after he’d left. Some are more recent. You stare at one, from December of the year he left. Glancing through it, you expect it to unearth your anger, your rage. But it doesn’t. Just like seeing him again, all Yoongi’s letter brings is sadness. Grief.

You’d spent the past 12 years grieving. Sure, he hadn’t died, but when he left, you’d lost the closest relationship you would ever have. In 17 years, you’d grown so accustomed to having him there, that when he was gone, there was a Yoongi-sized hole left in your life that you had to learn to fill. And you did your best, sewing yourself back together and moving on. But it wasn’t the same.

Glancing through his letter, it seems you weren’t the only one struggling. You aren’t sure if that’s a comfort or not.

It’s been almost a year since the night market–one year since everything started crumbling around us. I still remember it like it was yesterday. It felt right in the moment, didn’t it? I really thought you would understand.

I’ve tried to figure out where things went wrong. But shit, I can’t wrap my head around it. Why did you react like that when I told you I just wanted to be free?

At the end of the day, I guess we didn’t understand each other as much as I thought we did. As much as this bond brings us together, I guess it doesn’t reveal everything. But… that night I just wanted to kiss you, and so I did. Maybe it was selfish. Sometimes I wish the bond didn’t exist, that we could just be free to choose things for ourselves. That we weren't forced into what the universe wants from us… Maybe that’s selfish, too.

Why couldn’t you understand? I just wish I could turn back time and make you understand. Maybe then you wouldn’t hate me, and maybe then I’d stop hating myself too.

Because watching you destroy the gem nearly killed me, but it wasn’t half as bad as watching you walk away. Should I have run after you? 

Would you still be there if I had?

You sigh and lean back against your couch. That damn night market. You hadn’t been back to it since the year he’d kissed you. It’s silly, but a part of you blames it for everything that happened. Because Yoongi’s letter is right. It had marked the beginning of everything going wrong. It wouldn’t change anything, but there’s a part of you that won’t listen to logic, that refuses to believe that maybe, if he hadn’t kissed you–if you hadn’t kissed him back–he wouldn’t have left. 

The night market was beautiful. It always was, but that year was particularly beautiful. The park had been decorated in all of its sparkling, winter glory. Candles twinkled in the trees, suspended by sheer force of will. Through some magic you weren’t familiar with, they’d enchanted the sky, and an aurora shimmered far above, slowly swirling in greens and blues and purples. Snow fell gently, and you weren’t sure if it was natural, or if it was also magic. 

You browsed the various tents and tables, going from one to the other to see the different things people were selling. Some had crafts, others baked goods, and some were even selling things like potion ingredients and spellbooks. There were a few tables dedicated to familiars–books on shifting and specialty items and insets and jewelry for bond gems.

Yoongi followed you closely, clutching a hot chocolate. You knew he wasn’t cold, the temperature was nowhere near low enough for either of you to be uncomfortable, but the way his fingers tapped against the paper cup, you knew something was up. You could sense his anxiety, could feel it in the pit of your own stomach.

“Want to go sit?” you asked softly, gesturing over to the picnic tables they’d set up under one of the sparkling trees. 

His eyes widened. “No, that’s okay. You’re looking.”

“I’m done. Let’s go sit.”

“I-” He deflated a little and didn’t argue further, allowing you to lead him over to one of the tables. 

You sat side by side on the bench, backs against the table, and watched the snow fall around you. The night was peaceful, quiet for the most part except for the occasional laughter that bubbled up. Most of the older crowd had left, leaving only the teens and young adults to explore the market. You watched the other festival goers in silence, Yoongi’s arm pressed against your own.

“You okay?” you asked softly, bumping your shoulder into his own.

Yoongi being quiet was nothing new. He was an observer, a listener, he took in information like a sponge. Which wasn’t to say that he was never loud and boisterous, that he didn’t talk incessantly to the people he cared about. But he was absolutely the calmest presence you’d ever been around, even compared to the adults in your life.

But you could sense what he was feeling, could feel his nerves and unease and conflict. And you knew that he’d rather explode than burden anyone with his feelings. So you prodded. Ever so gently. Because he was your best friend, and when he was suffering, you were too. 

He stayed quiet, and when you turned to look at him, he was much closer than you were expecting. A moment passed. You shared a look. You’d always thought that Yoongi’s eyes were pretty, but in the twinkling light of the candles above, they were deep pools of warm, dark cedar and flecks of honey. Slowly, subtly, he leaned in–or maybe you did, you weren’t sure– as though some mysterious force was drawing you together. An emotion flashed in his eyes, but you couldn’t quite take the time to consider what it may have been because he was kissing you. Lips chapped from the bitter wind moulded against your own for the shortest of moments. It was tentative and delicate and brief, but as he pulled away, your mind reeled. 

That day had affected you in ways you never would have expected. Before, you’d never considered Yoongi as anything more than your best friend, the platonic other half of yourself. And then the kiss, and suddenly, it was like you’d been awakened. For as long as you could remember, your thoughts had been filled with Yoongi. Of the things he liked, the things he didn’t, of spending time with him, of the academy (with him). Suddenly, you were suspecting that maybe there was more to that, more than just the bond of a witch and their familiar.

You sigh. The letters are all finally back in the box, though nowhere near as nicely as they’d been before you’d kicked it and it had exploded. You should get up. You should go to bed. You have to be up fairly early for the funeral. But you stay seated, the box of letters in your lap.

Seeing him again was hard. You’re willing to admit that. You’d spent 12 years convincing yourself that you were fine, harboring anger and resentment and frustration, all for it to melt away the second you saw him. The bond makes it tough to stay mad at him, but it doesn’t let you forget the betrayal.

You stand out of the way, looking out over the funeral attendees in the park. Your parents didn’t have a lot of friends, but there are enough people here that you’d officially call it a crowd. They’re all mingling–you’d bought beer and wine, and if you didn’t know any better, it could maybe be a party and not a wake. You tighten your fist around the bond gem in your hand. For as long as you could remember, your dad had worn it around his neck, tucked under his shirt. The gem is like your mother–bright pink, fiery orange, deep yellow–and when you were a child, you’d loved to look at it, mesmerized by the swirling, glittering colors. 

The gems have always been a gift from a familiar to their witch, given to symbolize the soulmate-like bonds between them. Most witches–especially those who were romantically involved with their familiars–wear them as jewelry. They don’t really do anything, though some people claim it made their magic stronger (you aren’t really sure about that, seeing as most gems appear in childhood).

As a child, you hadn’t been particularly close with your parents. Especially as a teen, you would have much rather hung out with Yoongi than them. But they were kind, and supportive, and for the most part, they left you to do your own thing. They’d been almost as devastated as you when you’d crushed your bond gem.

Days after your fight with Yoongi, the doorbell rang. Your mother had opened the door. You were upstairs. You’d stayed home from school that day–sick, but not in the way the administrators would have accepted. For a few brief moments, you’d ignored whatever visitor was downstairs. But then-

“She’s not here.” Your mother’s voice drifted up to you. She sounded disappointed.

“Please.” It was Yoongi, you’d recognize his baritone from miles away.

Quietly, you’d slipped out of your room and crept down the hall, sitting at the top of the stairs. You could hear your mother sigh, could see her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Your father appeared from the kitchen and joined your mother at the door.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said, shaking his head. He leaned against the doorknob, pulling it a little more shut in the process so it blocked you completely from the door’s sight.

A long moment of silence passed before your mother called, “Yoongi?” You couldn’t hear his response–he must have already gone down the porch steps. Your mother continued, “It can be scary, and you’re both still young. Give it time.”

The door shut quietly, and both of your parents looked to where you were sitting. You could see it in both of their eyes. Sadness, but something else. Something that looked a little close to pity.

A laugh draws your attention, and you smile sadly as you watch your mother’s coworkers laugh at some memory. But then you notice, just behind them, a shadow close to the ground and suddenly, you’re distracted all over again. Because there, half-hidden by a bush, sits a black cat. Cedar and honey eyes watch you intently, its dark fur swirling and shining like a thousand galaxies. Your hand tightens around your parents’ bond gem, the chain pressing sharply into the flesh of your hand.

He doesn’t move, just sits there patiently. Watching. He’s there as people approach you, offering condolences and hugs that you don’t particularly want; he’s there when people start trickling out. And he’s there when you’re the last one left, all alone under the large oak tree in the center of the park. 

It’s quiet as you stand there, staring down at the bond gem in your hands. This is the part you’ve been dreading. Because you don’t want to keep the damn thing–you could if you wanted to, but there’s also tradition to think about. But it’s also weird to give up the one thing that is so emblematic of your parents. You wonder if they’d felt like this when your grandparents had died. 

At least they’d had each other during it.

You can sense him approach, even though his steps are completely silent. And though he comes closer, he keeps his distance. On one hand, you appreciate it. On the other…

“If you’re going to be here, the least you could do is be here,” you say quietly, looking down at the gem in your hand. It sparkles a little in the light.

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask you to explain. He takes a few slow steps forward until he’s standing beside you. It’s weird, having him this close again. You’d been too overwhelmed last night to actually observe, but now, you’re exhausted, yet alert. 

His hair is longer–as a teen, he’d kept it short, but the ends curl and sit just above his shoulders now. He’s filled out and put on some muscle, and though he’s still a little on the lankier side, his shoulders have broadened. He wears cologne now, the scent light, like lavender, citrus, and sage. So much has changed, and yet it’s the same eyes that watch you with a soft curiosity.

You look up to the tree, watch its branches wave in the wind. You used to think that the centenarian boughs touched the sky, and even still, it towers above everything else in the park. The leaves sparkle, their iridescence catching the light to make the tree look like something out of a fairy tale. You sigh and tighten your fist around your parents’ bond gem one more time before opening your hand.

At first, nothing happens, but then the gem glistens and rises out of your grasp. It joins the other leaves close to the top of the tree, becoming just another sparkle in the prism. 

For a while, not even the birds make a noise. You just stand there, looking up at the tree that has stood sentinel over most of your life. The wind rustles the leaves, and they shimmer as they move. You have no idea how many leaves are up there, how many bond gems have been placed over time. Thousands–maybe hundreds of thousands–of witches and their familiars, most forgotten to the annals of time.

It’s strange, knowing that you would never be memorialized by the tree.

“Let me buy you a coffee,” Yoongi whispers from beside you, husky baritone cutting through the silence.

Yoongi isn’t sure why you say yes, but soon enough, you’re walking into the Green Bean just behind him. He’s uncomfortable, people have been watching you since the park, and their stares are starting to burn holes in his back. He says nothing about it until you’re in line at the cafe.

“What are they staring at?” he whispers, leaning close so that only you can hear in the semi-busy cafe. He chooses to ignore how you tense up ever so slightly.

“You’ve been gone for 12 years, what did you expect?”

Right. He supposes he should have expected their animosity. But it’s not just him they’re watching. He doesn’t miss the way people stare at you, watch you warily as you simply exist. His mind races. Was that his fault? Did his absence cause so many unintended consequences?

You order a coffee and choose a table in the far corner of the cafe, away from everyone but still near the window. He sits in the chair across from you, the hard metal shockingly comfortable despite its harsh lines. An awkward silence settles over you both, but Yoongi’s not sure what to say, so he lets it linger. He watches you stare out the window. Which is a little weird, right? But he can’t bring himself to drag his gaze away. It’s like after 12 years of being away, he just wants to look at you.

The barista calls out your orders and Yoongi stands to grab both of them from the counter. He places one oversized ceramic mug down in front of you, and the other, he wraps his hands around. It’s warm, almost hot, and he dares not take a drink yet. You stare down at the foam on top of your drink, one finger hooked around the handle of the cup.

“What happened to them?” he asks softly. When you look up, surprised, he clarifies. “Your parents, I mean. I… didn’t hear how they…”

You sigh, tap your mug. He can sense the deep sadness you struggle with and is just about to tell you to forget he asked when you speak. “I always kind of thought it would be dad who’d go first.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “He was always so frail when we were kids. But mom got sick last year and…” You shrug. “One of the neighbors found them.”

“I’m so sorry.” You wave him off. “No. Honestly. They were nice.”

“Thanks.”

He nods, and silence settles again. But then something you said pops into his mind, striking him as strange. “You aren’t living here anymore?” Mentally, he slaps himself. Why did it come out like he’s surprised? He supposes that he’s always just kind of pictured you still… here, in town.

“I’m over in Ashland,” you say, generally gesturing west, toward the city. “I work at the library at the university.”

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows. “How’s that?”

You shrug. “Mostly good. It’s a job. The library’s usually pretty quiet, so…”

“That’s really cool.”

Ashland is big, much bigger than here in square feet and at least 10 times the people. It’s a real city, with skyscrapers and functioning public transportation and one of the country’s top medical universities. He’s proud of you, he realizes. You’d always planned to leave for the city, too constrained by life in such a small town. For the longest time, he’d planned on going with you. And then, of course, he’d ruined it. It stings a little to know that you’d gone without him like that, that your life had continued as planned, that maybe he hadn’t meant that much in the grand scheme of things.

But then your eyes meet, and he’s confronted by the anxiety and sadness you’re feeling, and he knows he’s just being stupid. Again.

“So, uh…” He feels a wave of nerves wash over him–they aren’t his own. You tap your half-empty mug. “What have you been up to?”

If he’s honest, Yoongi wasn’t expecting you to ask about him. He’s shocked enough that you’d even agreed to be here, let alone that you were interested in his life. “I was traveling,” he starts cautiously, gauging your reaction. You blink slowly, watching his every move. If you can sense his apprehension, you don’t react. “But now I’m up north in Ulmae. I’ve got a pretty good thing going at this restaurant on the North Shore.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, uh…” He chuckles, a little nervous. “They’ve got me bartending on the weekends and let me do music during the week.”

Your eyes widen a little, and you lean forward. “They let you play?”

“It’s only like an hour a night-”

“No, shut up. That’s amazing!” You grin, big and genuine, but Yoongi can sense a tinge of sadness in it. 

He’s disappointed when you both finish your coffees and you stand up to put your cup in the little tub by the counter. It’s starting to get late, the sun is starting to set and the streetlights have turned on. It was nice, catching up with you, short though it may have been. It’s not lost on him how strange it is, having to catch up with someone that was once practically a part of him. 

Together, you stand outside in the chilly early evening air, looking down the street toward the park. Over the roofs of the shops and houses, Yoongi can just barely see the centinel tree with its sparkling leaves. People walk past–people he recognizes but couldn’t possibly name–some are more subtle about it, but others practically break their necks to stare at the two of you. Suddenly, Yoongi feels exposed outside the cafe, like there are eyes everywhere. He hates this, hates feeling like he’s doing something wrong just for wanting to talk to you more.

You sigh, scuff your shoe against the concrete of the sidewalk, shove your hands deep into the pockets of your dark jeans. “I… probably shouldn’t even ask,” you start warily. “But do you want to come back for a drink?”

The house is the same, yet somehow also different, like one of those spot the difference puzzles come to life. The layout of the living room is the same, but the couch is a different style and color. There’s a blanket folded the same way under the coffee table, but it’s clearly a different pattern than he remembers. Most of the photos are the same, but there are 12 years’ worth of more of them. 

Apparently, the stash of alcohol your father kept in the built in cabinet beside the television hasn’t changed.

You pull out a bottle of whisky and two glasses, setting them on the coffee table with a gentle ‘clink.” The shoebox he’d given you sits on the floor. The lid is off, the letters contained within are a mess. Have you read them, or did they spill out? There’s no way for him to really know. 

Silently, you hand him a glass and sit on the other side of the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows to hug in your lap. You sip at the double in your glass stoically, and for a moment, you stare at him. He has to resist the urge to squirm under your gaze. There’s something different about how you’re sitting, something in your aura that he didn’t notice in the cafe. Maybe you’d been saving it for private, but he can sense that you’re reining your emotions in. 

But then finally, after what feels like an eternity, you turn over your hand. Two pieces of paper sit in your palm. “I’m going to need you to explain these.” The two letters float over to him and open themselves in front of him.

The first is dated only a few years after he’d left.

I’ve been struck by a thought. I had tacos earlier, and I just know you would have loved them. Which made me realize that there’s still part of me that thinks about you at every turn. Your friendship was such an integral part of my life, and not having it anymore feels like there’s a piece missing. Last week it was a song on the radio. Before that, a stray cat I saw that I know for certain you would have loved. Everything reminds me of you, everything leads back to you. You’re everywhere and nowhere, and…

I would like to see you again. Someday. 

How have you been doing? Where has your life taken you? I can only hope it’s treated you kindly. It’s what you deserve.

The other is from the day he turned 25.

A quarter of a century, and for some reason I feel incredibly old. With it comes some realizations, things I didn’t understand before. Maybe I was too young, too blinded by my own need to feel free… but it never was about being free from you. I can’t even begin to imagine how hurtful it must have been for you…

I never wanted to make you feel like I was giving up on you, like I didn’t want you. I never wanted to make you feel rejected, because it wasn’t you I was trying to be free from.

I was so scared of having my whole life laid out in front of me. I never took the time to think what my life could be with the bond–I only ever thought about what the bond meant for my life. All of the expectations, what comes with being a familiar, our roles in society and the universe…

I realize now that I could have–should have–communicated it all better. If only so that I wouldn’t have lost you. So that it wouldn’t have led to me making you feel like I was rejecting you. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered; at the end of the day I was still walking away from you. But at least maybe I could have made it more clear that it was never you that I wanted to be free from.

I’m sorry. I feel like it’s useless to say, but I am so sorry for not realizing any of this before.

Wherever you are, I hope you’ll understand. Take care until I see you again.

I hope I see you again.

Yoongi sighs. The letters–all of them, not just these two–tended to be rambling diatribes, a snapshot of his thoughts as he worked through his feelings about his own life and everything and you. He’d been an idiot when he left–he was 17 and full of himself and terrified of the world but too proud to admit it–and it had taken him far too long to realize a lot of important things.

For a moment, it’s quiet as he thinks of what to say. How should he even begin? But apparently, he’s quiet for too long, because you wave your hand and the letters fold themselves back up and float back down to the shoebox. When you speak, you sound exhausted. “Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I-”

“Because if the roles were reversed, I don’t know that I’d have the balls to come back. On one hand, I’m impressed. On the other…” You trail off and shrug.

He’s quiet, not sure how to respond. He’s got lots of thoughts, lots of feelings–of course he does–but right now, you’re a wall, and he’s not sure how to read the situation. He’s not sure what you need to hear right now. So he says nothing.

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it, and you look down at the glass in your hand, stare into the dregs of the amber whisky you’ve nearly finished. “I’m running on like two hours’ sleep,” you admit. “But fuck, Yoongi, I… I was so convinced that I’d never see you again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.” Then, softer. “I’m still not sure.”

“Why?” It’s out of his mouth before he can even think and god, he just wants the Earth to open up and swallow him whole.

It takes a second for you to process his absolute trash heap of an asinine question. But when you do, your face contorts into somewhere between anger, disappointment, and heartbreak. “What do you mean, ‘why’?” You practically spit the question at him. “You… you… Do you know what it’s like to have the most important person in your life tell you that he wants rid of you?”

“I never said-”

“You wanted to be free. From all of it. From me.” You pick at the corner of the pillow in your lap. “And then you just come back out of the blue like nothing happened and drop this damn shoebox at my feet-” from where it sits on the floor, the shoebox explodes, letters flying everywhere, “-and you just… What did you expect, Yoongi? What do you want?”

“I don’t know!” He sounds a little desperate when he says it, and he hates that, hates how pathetic it makes him sound. So he shrugs, takes a deep breath, leans back a little. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just… I missed you. And then mom told me about your parents, and…” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead and out of his eyes. “And then I was on a train.”

You stare at him for a moment, a little gobsmacked. You have no idea how to respond. What do you say to that? Where do you even start? There are a hundred things you could say. You’ve played this scenario out a thousand times in your head over the years–what would you do if he came back?–but somehow, it never played out like this. In your mind, he’d never told you that he missed you.

You’d never considered that he would miss you.

But you should say something, right? It’s weird that you’re sitting there, just staring at him in complete silence. Has your jaw been clenched the whole time? Does he think you’re angry with him? Quickly, you school your face into something a little more neutral and say the first thing that comes to mind.

“How long are you here for?”

Truthfully, you probably should have asked sooner. You’ve been wondering since he showed up on your doorstep last night, but it never seemed like a great time to ask.

He sighs. “‘Till tomorrow.”

You nod, probably longer than it makes sense to, but it takes you a bit to process. Tomorrow. He’s back in your life for two days, and then he’s gone again. That’s not even enough time to catch up, let alone actually talk with him. And that’s… you aren’t sure how to feel. 

Yoongi watches you quietly and takes a sip of his drink. He’s barely touched it. “Maybe…” he says after a moment, leaning forward to put his glass on the coffee table. “Maybe I should go?”

Part of you wants to tell him no, to ask him to stay, to tell you more about his gig working at the bar. Anything to keep him here and talking to you. But there’s a more logical part of you that’s overwhelmed, that needs some time to think. He’s offering to go, which means that he’s either uncomfortable or his train leaves early in the morning. Or both. He stands, thanks you for the drink, and you follow him to the door. He hesitates just outside, opens his mouth as if to say something and closes it almost as quickly.

You say nothing. And for the second time in as many days, you watch him leave without another word.

The playground was almost empty. Mama said it was supposed to rain, but she’d also said that you would go anyway, for a little bit. You were trying to learn how to swing on your own, and plus Yoongi and his mom were going to be there, and he’d said he’d bring his trucks to play in the sand. 

But he wasn’t there yet, so you were on the swing. Mama pushed you, her hand firm on your back, and you closed your eyes. You were flying, wind in your face as you launched forward into the air. And then, just as suddenly, you were falling, swinging backward.

“Remember what I said,” mama said softly. “Kick your legs.”

You weren’t quite sure what she meant by that. Your legs were little, and when you kicked out, you felt more like you were going to slide out of the swing seat than anything. You heard her laugh a little, but her hand was on your back once again, propelling you forward. 

A few minutes passed in a blur of forwards and backwards. You still didn’t quite understand the whole swinging on your own thing, but mama’s rhythmic pushes kept you going. But then, a small voice at the edge of the playground yelled your name, and you heard excited footsteps in the wood chips. Mama helped you slow to a stop, and you jumped off the swing.

A little boy, his dark hair cut short by his own mom, ran toward you. He was carrying an armful of small cars and larger trucks. He skidded to a stop in front of you, a wide, gummy grin engulfing his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“I brought all my trucks!” he announced, looking down at the toys in his arms. “You can be the green one. Here.” He tried to hand it to you, and another fell in the process.

You picked it up and took the green truck from him. It was bright green–the same shade as the lime popsicles Yoongi’s mom usually bought–and it had big wheels. You followed him to the sandbox and you both plopped down. It didn’t take long to have a whole city constructed. Granted, it was all made from rocks and wood chips and other small things you found around the sandbox. But it was a city and it was beautiful.

Yoongi drove his truck over a bump, making engine noises as he pushed it toward you. As he drove the truck down another sand hill, bumping and bouncing it over sticks and rocks, something fell out of the sleeve of his jacket. It was perfectly round, and it rolled to a stop in front of you. You picked it up and inspected it. It was some kind of rock, hard and shiny, but it was also colorful, and you were pretty sure rocks couldn’t be blue. 

One look at the rock and he frowned, calling for his mom. She came over immediately and crouched down to see what he was so concerned about. Your mama followed her, and she was the one that saw the rock in your hand first.

“Oh,” she said, her hand gently smoothing down your hair. “You two have found your gem.”

“Wha’s that mean?” Yoongi asked, looking up at his mom. 

She smiled and sat in the sand beside him, pulling him into her lap. She held out her arm, twisted her bracelet around so that he could see it. “You know how I have this from your dad? It’s like that.”

“But-”

“Your friendship is special,” she continued, pinching his cheek. Yoongi laughed. “It means you’ve gotta look out for each other now.”

For a moment, he was quiet. But then he nodded, just once. “Okay!” He held out his hand to you, tiny palm face up. “Can I have it?”

“It’s not yours anymore,” his mom said softly, brushing his short hair back. “It’s a gift.”

You looked to your mama and she nodded. “Take care of it,” she told you. “You only get one.”

Middle school was the worst. Everything was difficult. Social situations, interactions with your parents, school. At the time, it all seemed like it was unfairly hard. Making it worse, of course, was getting sick. As a kid, you were never sick that often. Yoongi was a different story. For whatever reason, familiars were just more susceptible to illness, and when he got sick, he got sick. 

It was the middle of the semester, and Yoongi hadn’t been to school in days. Your teachers hadn’t even asked, they’d just started giving you packets–homework and printouts of their lessons and extra materials–so he wouldn’t fall behind. So you stopped by his house after school. His mom let you in, offering you some of the snacks she was making for Yoongi before you headed up the stairs to his room. 

You knocked gently before entering. The knock was a politeness–you were close enough with him and familiar enough with his room at this point in your life that you could just barge in without warning and you knew he wouldn’t mind. He looked like hell, stuck in his bed buried in blankets. It was clear he’d had a fever at some point, because his hair looked damp and sweaty. 

But he sat up when you walked in, coughing deeply before speaking. “You’re going to get sick, too,” he protested weakly. 

You waved him off. “Everyone’s sick.” You pulled over his desk chair to the side of his bed and started to go through your bag. “Ms. Miller gave me your math homework, but if you understand it, you’ll have to explain it to me because I have no idea what she’s talking about.” He giggled at that, gummy smile soon hidden by his hand as he coughed. “Here’s the novel for Brown’s class. She said she’d talk to you about making up the paper when you’re back.”

It took a surprisingly long time to go through eight classes’ worth of homework and assignments, but you’d put sticky notes at the front of each packet explaining things, too, so the fact that he was half-asleep for most of your explanation didn’t really matter. 

“Will you stay?” he asked when you were done. “Help me with some of this?”

“What happened to not wanting me to get sick?” you teased.

“I mean, you don’t have to. If you want to go home, that’s fine, too. I just-” He coughed, burying his face in his blankets. 

“You staying for dinner, hon?” Yoongi’s mom called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes please!” you responded, shuffling through the stack of packets you’d brought for Yoongi. “Wanna take a stab at math?”

Halfway through the fall of your senior year, Yoongi started to get… weird. Cagey. Like he was trying to hide something and figure out particle physics at the same time. You’d tried asking him about it a few times, only for him to wave you off with a quiet “just thinking about some things.” After that, he’d be back to normal for a few days. But every time, like clockwork, he would fall back into it.

Finally, on the third day of the new year, he pulled you aside. Tucked back into the dormant foliage of the park, away from prying eyes, he stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was nervous, you could feel it deep inside you, but to be honest, you didn’t really need your bond to tell you what was plain to see. 

“I…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. His brows furrowed in thought, and after a moment, he motioned for you to sit. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay?” You sat on the edge of a big rock, confused.

“I…” he started again, sitting beside you. You could feel a spike of nerves, and he took a breath to steady himself. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I think… fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be.”

“You can just say it,” you told him. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and mumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘that’s the problem,’ but after a moment, he continued. “I need to be free of all of this.”

“What?”

“Haven’t you ever thought that maybe the universe doesn’t know what it’s talking about? That maybe you’d be happier if you chose things for yourself?” He frowned. “There’s rules for gifts. We’re only good at certain types of magic because of how we were born. We have to celebrate holidays certain ways, we have to do specific things on our birthdays-”

“-and we get told who we’re to bond to.”

He recoiled at your words. “That’s not-”

“But it’s true, right?” Your gaze fell from him to your hands. “It’s just one more thing you don’t get to control.”

Yoongi sighed. “I just… want to be able to choose for myself.”

Suddenly, you were sick to your stomach. This was the last thing you’d expected. You didn’t particularly like all of the traditions, either, but you were 17. What the hell were you going to do about it? But this felt like he was saying he didn’t want you. You hadn’t yet talked about the kiss at the night market a few weeks prior, but you’d never guessed that he’d do such a sudden about-face. 

“Right,” you said softly.

“Just… think about it?” he asked, dark eyes pleading. 

You didn’t like where this was going, didn’t like how it made you feel. But you nodded anyway. Maybe he would change his mind.

Days gave way to weeks and months, and before you knew it, spring had come. Yoongi hadn’t changed his mind. If anything, he’d gotten more insistent. 

“I want to find myself,” he’d told you once. “I need to make sure this is how I want to live my life.”

“I just need to get away,” he’d said one day while you were doing homework together. “Start fresh somewhere new.”

And then, on the way home from school one day, he’d said, “I need to be free of it all.” 

And you’d snapped. Three months of hearing him talk about it, three months of him basically saying that your entire way of life was wrong and that he was chafing to get away. You couldn’t help it.

“Fuck off,” you’d told him, taking the trail behind the houses at a faster pace. Despite being so attuned with nature thanks to his familiar genes, he’d had trouble keeping up with you.

“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”

He’d pushed. And eventually, you’d given in. Because despite everything, you’d loved him, and if he was unhappy, you wanted to fix that. And now…

Now you’re sitting alone at the train station at ass o’clock in the morning. The train station has just barely opened, and already you’re inside, clutching a cup of coffee. There are a few other people here, milling around, waiting for their early trains to god knows where. You can feel them watching you, can feel them trying to make it subtle that they’re staring. At this point, you’re used to it. Word travels fast in small towns, especially when that word is as earth-shattering as a broken bond gem and a falling out between a witch and their familiar. 

You try to ignore them, focus on your coffee and the posters across the waiting area from you. 

Report any unattended or suspicious luggage to National Rail personnel.

Bags larger than this poster must be checked into the train’s luggage car.

Please remain seated until your train is announced and National Rail personnel give authorization to enter the platform.

You scroll through the news on your phone. Read the posters again. Stare out the window at the coffee shop across the street. And wait. A train arrives, and the couple that had been staring at you leaves. You sigh and stand to throw out your now empty cup.

Just as you do, the door to the train station opens. You turn to look, and there stands Yoongi. He’s wearing a black shirt, a bag slung across his body. His hair is pushed back off his face and he’s wearing his glasses. He’s clutching an absolutely massive travel mug and his phone in one hand, the other rolls a small suitcase behind him. He looks sleepy, but the second his dark eyes land on you, he jolts a little, as if electrocuted into being awake and alert.

“Hey,” he says cautiously, approaching you.

“Hey.” You wave slightly–awkwardly.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is soft, still a little gruff from sleep. You get the sense that maybe he hasn’t said much of anything to anyone this morning.

You sigh and gesture for him to follow you to a bench. The next train–his, you presume–isn’t due for another 20 minutes. You have time, but not much.

“I didn’t like how we left things,” you admit. “I… I wasn't sure if you were serious.”

“Serious?” His head falls to the side slightly, confused. But then, it seems, he understands, and he nods. “I did miss you–I do. I spent the entire ride here thinking about how seeing you again was going to go.”

“Were you right?”

He chuckles. “Not exactly.”

You hum and nod, and for the briefest of moments, silence settles over you. The stationmaster types away at his computer, the clacking of the keyboard the only sound in the entire station. But then you force yourself to say something that’s been on your mind since he showed up on your doorstep two days ago.

“It’s been good seeing you again,” you say, and even though you mean it, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “I… think in a way, after so long, I made you the villain in my head. It’s good to see that you’re… not that.”

“I am sorry,” he whispers. “That was the worst thing I have ever done, and I just…”

“I get it.”

“What?”

“I think I kind of always did, but… it just hurt too much to think that you were including me in everything that you wanted to get away from, and I just-”

“You were the last thing I wanted to get away from.” Maybe it’s the waver in his voice, maybe it’s the way he ducks his head to make sure he makes eye contact, but you believe him. He sits his mug down on the bench beside him and gathers your hands in his. “I was so fucking dumb. I would have taken you with me in a heartbeat, but god I was too stupid and selfish to take ten minutes to think.”

“I thought maybe I’d done something,” you admit quietly. “I thought that maybe after the night market-”

“No! Oh my god, no,” he exclaims, his hands tightening around your own. “You’re my best friend! I lo-”

“Train 49–the Northern Limited–will be arriving on the platform in five minutes,” the stationmaster announces, not even bothering to use the building’s intercom. “I’ll take you over to the platform when you’re ready.”

Yoongi groans.

“Here.” You pull your hands away from him and immediately miss the warmth of him. But you reach into your pocket, unlocking your phone and shoving it into his hands in one motion. “Put your number in.”

For a moment, he stares at you, dumbfounded. But then the stationmaster opens the door to his office, and the noise jolts Yoongi into action. He types quickly and hands you your phone. You don’t even look at it, just lock it and shove it into your pocket. He hands you his phone and you enter your own contact information before giving it back.

You stand at the same time, and for one brief, quiet moment, you worry that maybe he’s just going to leave it at that. But then he rubs the back of his neck and glances toward the stationmaster.

“I’ll text you,” he promises.

You nod, almost mechanically. You weren’t expecting it to hurt this much to see him leave again. As he turns to gather his things, something comes over you.

“I- Can we-” You sigh, take a deep breath. “Can I have a hug?”

He makes a noise somewhere between a hum and a squeak, and it takes almost no time for the pink to start blossoming on his cheeks. He sputters for a second, and you can feel his shock. But then he opens his arms, and you find yourself taking a small step forward.

It’s shockingly easy to fall back into him, to step into his arms. He’s warm, and solid, but still also somehow soft. His cologne lingers on his clothes, all lavender-y and citrus-y and sage-y. Your arms fit around his waist, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this is normal, that nothing ever happened and that he isn’t leaving. But you hear the train horn in the distance and you pull away. You kiss his cheek as you part, and his eyes go wide in shock.

“Text me,” you tell him firmly, reaching down to grab his coffee mug and hand it to him.

“I will. I promise.”

And with one last, fleeting look, he steps onto the elevator with the stationmaster to go over to the platform. 

You stand outside the station long after the train departs, feeling very much like you did when he’d left the first time. You should be feeling optimistic–for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe there’s hope. For you, for your friendship, for… whatever comes next. But it’s hard to feel any sort of positive when he’s on a train back to a city seven hours away, and you have to go home in the exact opposite direction in a few short days.

As you’re walking back to your car in the lot down the street, your phone dings. When you unlock it, you get the sudden feeling that you’re flying, like a horde of butterflies have erupted within you. It’s nerves and it’s excitement and maybe, it’s also a little bit of hope.

Yoongi 💙: thanks again for not turning me into a bug

“I’ve been thinking,” Yoongi says one late night, his deep, sleep-deprived voice distorted ever so slightly by the distance and the speakers of your phone. You can barely see him–there’s a dim light that just slightly illuminates his face, but the rest of the room is dark.

“Dangerous,” you joke.

“Rude.” He nuzzles down further into his pillow. “I’d like to come visit,” he admits softly.

For a moment, your mind goes blank. There’s a fluttering in your stomach, hundreds of butterflies trying to escape at once. He’d kept his word after the train station, texting and calling you frequently over the past couple weeks. You’d text throughout the week–little messages about bad days and delicious lunches and cute dogs–and then on the weekends, one of you would inevitably end up calling each other. You’d spend hours on the phone, sometimes talking, sometimes just existing in the silence between you. 

The video calls were a recent development. Since they began, you’d watched him cook dinner, he’d played piano while you worked on a spreadsheet for work, and one early morning, he’d called you on his way home after bartending so he wouldn’t fall asleep on the train.

“What do you mean?” You laugh a little. Maybe it was a little obvious what he meant, but you wanted to hear him say it.

He groans a little, stretches one arm up before covering his eyes with it. He peeks out at you through the cook in his elbow, one singular, dark eye sparkling, even in the poor quality of the video. “I miss you,” he mumbles, and you almost don’t catch it, it’s so muffled by his arm and your phone’s speaker.

You hum. The butterflies in your stomach make themselves known again. “I guess you could come.”

“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

“Hey now. It’s against the rules to take something like that back.”

He laughs. “What rules?”

“You know. The rules.” You gesture vaguely before pulling your blanket up a little further on your body. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the rules?” He grunts. “Being away for so long has rotted your brain, I’m afraid.”

“So rude.” His arm is still obscuring his face slightly, but you can see his big, gummy smile as he laughs. “No, but seriously. Are you busy next weekend?”

You frown. You’d been trying to forget about next weekend. “Normally I’d go home for the new year,” you say softly.

“Why don’t,” he begins, stifling a yawn. You’re a little surprised he’s made it this long without seeming tired. It’s almost 3am. “Why don’t I come hang out? We can do new year’s stuff together.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course.”

“What about work?”

He shifts, the arm that was over his face now supporting his head under his pillow. “I make the schedule. They’ll deal with it.”

“Yoongi.”

He continues on, ignoring you. “I can work the day shift and get a train right after work on Friday, but I wouldn’t get there until late, is that okay?”

You sigh. It would be nice to not spend the holiday alone. And it would be nice to see him again. Sure, you’ve been talking to him in one way or another, but it’s different than having him in person. You finally agree, and he shoots you a smug, sleepy smile.

The week passes at a glacial pace. Work is slow because of the break in classes for the upcoming holiday, and spending time in an empty library is infinitely less entertaining than you’d expect it to be. Most of your coworkers have taken off, so you’re mostly alone with your thoughts. You fill the time with paperwork, completing literature loan requests for the University’s faculty and doing intake for the newly released journals the library has subscriptions for. 

In the small handful of weeks since you’d seen him last, you’d replayed things in your mind. But mostly, you’ve been stuck on how nice it is to have him in your life again. You aren’t fooling yourself. You haven’t forgotten. But there’s a part of you–a large part, if you’re honest with yourself–that hopes that this is a step forward, that you can be close again. Maybe not how you were, but something that resembles a friendship.

After an eternity, it’s Friday. You sit outside of the train station in your car, parked in one of the pick up spots just outside of the main door. The trickle of people into and out of the station has slowed significantly now that it’s dark out–you’ve never seen it this dead. It’s late, the station is getting ready to close, but there’s one last train that has yet to come in. There’s another car parked a few spaces to your left, and you wonder briefly about who they’re waiting to pick up, but it’s fleeting. 

The door to the station opens automatically, and out steps Yoongi. He rolls a suitcase beside him, a messenger bag slung across his body, his other hand shoved deep into his hoodie pocket. He looks around, confused, his gaze going back and forth between your car and the one to your left. You turn on the dome light and wave and he nods.

He gives you a quick greeting as he opens the back door, shoving his bags in the back seat. When he finally climbs into the passenger seat, he sighs deeply, resting his head against the headrest for a moment before turning to you.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey. How was the train?”

He groans. “Long.”

You hum. He’d worked a short, early shift so he could catch the last train from Ulmae to Ashland. He looks and sounds exhausted. But he’s here. He’s not a face on a screen, he’s in your car. You resist the urge to reach out and touch him. It’s strange. You’d been without him for nearly 13 years. It’s only been a few short weeks since you’d seen him last, but you’re giddy, practically bursting with excitement at the fact that, for the next two and a half days, he’s here. With you.

You drive in relative silence, willing the lights to be green more for Yoongi’s sake than your own. The radio plays a soft hip-hop song, and you vaguely recognize it as one of the bands he’d been obsessed with in high school, but you don’t turn it up. You’re fairly certain that he’s fallen asleep, his head lolled slightly to the side so that he’s facing the window.

It’s a damn miracle that there’s an open spot in front of your building, but you gladly take it. There are people in your building who don’t know how to parallel park—who refuse to do it—but you’d taught yourself just for instances like this. For a moment, you think you’re going to have to wake Yoongi up, but just as you cut the engine, he unbuckles his seat belt and stretches.

Your apartment isn’t large, but it’s bigger than most for what you pay for it. You’re on the seventh floor, the top floor of the building, and your bedroom has a lovely view of the building beside you. But if you lean a little to one side and press your face up against the glass, you can see out into the city beyond, and the university campus in the far distance.

He sits his bags down in your living room and plops down on the couch. You’ve already set out some blankets and a couple pillows for him. The clock on your microwave says 11:05.

“You’re probably exhausted,” you say. “I’ll let you get settled.”

Immediately, he picks his head up from the back cushion of the couch. “’m not tired.” Ever defiant. But you can tell he’s lying. You can see it in his eyes how groggy he is. Normally, he’s up much later than this–you know, because sometimes, he calls you–but between working an early shift and the six-hour train ride, you don’t blame him for being a little sleepy.

“I put some towels out in the bathroom,” you tell him, gesturing down the hall. “It’s the door on the left. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, you leave him there in your living room. You can hear him unzipping his bag as you retreat into your room.

An hour later, you find that you can’t sleep. Not that you’ve even tried. You aren’t even sure why you’re so wired. But you’re sitting in your bed, legs covered by a sheet, in the dim light of your bedside lamp. You’ve had friends stay over before. But this… you feel like you did as a kid, having your first sleepover. Except back then you were wired on soda and sugary snacks and it was a treat to stay up late. Now, you’re just…

You hear the bathroom door open and shut, and after a moment, Yoongi stands in the doorway to your room.

“You have the softest towels in the world,” he says, hair hanging in damp strands in front of his eyes. He pats and scrunches it dry with one of the fluffy grey towels you’d set out for him. 

“Would you believe I got them on clearance?”

“I’ll just have to stuff one in my bag, then.”

“I charge a 5% fee for any towels that leave the premises.”

At that, he laughs, a groggy, squeaky sound that shakes his shoulders and crinkles his eyes and leaves a wide, gummy smile in its wake.

“So… what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“I haven’t really thought about it.” He shoots you a look that says he doesn’t believe you, and you relent. “Well,” you pat the bed beside you, inviting him to sit, “There’s this thing every year in the park to watch the meteors,” you say as Yoongi eases himself onto the mattress. “But it doesn’t start until late.” He hums. “Was there something you wanted to do?” 

“No, just-” He stifles a yawn. “Curious.” He leans back against the headboard, settling in.

Just like that, you fall easily into conversation. It’s comfortable, calm. Just two old friends chatting. He likes your apartment, thinks the tile in your bathroom is really nice. He asks about your job, nods along as you tell him about working in the library and your coworkers. 

And slowly, his reactions become slower, delayed, until he finally doesn’t respond at all. You look over, and his chin is tucked against his chest, his breathing gentle. Asleep.

For a moment, you consider going out to the couch. It would be weird, right, to stay here with him? But as you’re about to kick the blanket off, you pause. 

We’re adults. Adults can share a bed. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You’re mature enough to let this just be two people sleeping in the same space. 

At least, you think you are. 

But as you settle in yourself, snuggling down into your blankets and turning off the light, you’re suddenly faced with the quiet peacefulness of his face. He’d always been handsome, and now that you’re both older, you can appreciate just how beautiful he really is. He sighs and slides down a little, his hand brushing against your arm as he gets more comfortable. 

Oh no. 

You sit on the floor of your living room, a box of pizza on the coffee table that you’ve shoved out of the way. Yoongi’s beside you, your backs against the couch as you watch some anime he’d been trying to convince you to watch back in high school. You’re three episodes in, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t really care for the basketball-themed show. Part of you is still afraid that if you say something wrong, he’ll be gone again. 

His arm rests casually behind you on the cushions, far enough away that it’s more a comfortable way to sit than any sort of advance, but that doesn’t stop the smallest of butterflies from making itself known in your stomach. This Yoongi is so different from the Yoongi you knew—the one who, as a kid, got excited by construction equipment and the concept of ice cream, and as a teen spent his free time hiding from his parents, playing the piano and hanging out with you (though neither were mutually exclusive). He’s quiet, comfortable in the silence, comfortable with letting things linger. 

You’re a little jealous of it, to be honest. 

Yoongi leans forward slightly, and a piece of pizza meets him halfway, floating gently into his grasp. “Do you remember,” he begins, settling back in against the couch, “when we were 16 and we went camping?” You hum an affirmative. “We spent most of the week playing old board games with my parents.”

You smile at the memory. If anyone had asked back then, you would have told them it was lame that you’d had to spend the whole time with Yoongi’s parents. But now? That was one of the more fun summers you’d ever had. “What made you think of that?”

He shrugs, mouth full of pizza. “I dunno. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. Things were so much simpler then…” 

You nod and hum softly, but ultimately, you say nothing. Much simpler indeed. 

“You know,” Yoongi begins, zipping his coat up to his chin, “when you said ‘park’, I was kind of expecting it to be in the city.”

“I think technically it is.” You lock your car and meet him at the front of it.

“We drove for an hour!”

You shrug. “Big city.”

He laughs and shakes his head, incredulous. He can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but there was a sign on the way in with the university logo on it, so he supposes that whether it’s part of the city or not, it doesn’t really matter. There’s a well-lit trail that runs from the shale parking lot up a hill slightly to a clearing that overlooks the city and the rest of the park. It’s busy–people mill about around the parking lot, and he can see a steady stream of visitors on the trail up to the clearing. 

He adjusts his coat–it’s cold, and both his shoulder and his senses ache with the impending snow–and when he’s ready, the two of you start walking toward the trail. It’s astonishingly busy, and as you weave your way through the crowd, leading him up the hill, he grabs your hand. 

So we don’t get separated, he tells himself. For a moment, he expects you to pull away. Not maliciously, he’s not expecting you to scoff and throw his hand away. But what he isn’t expecting is for you to tighten your grip on him and tug him this way and that as you get closer to the clearing. His hand is warm where your skin touches his, like he’s holding a candle a little too close to the flame.

The clearing is massive, mostly flat but not entirely, with gentle rolling slopes that provide some extra elevation here and there. On one of the little hills, a few food trucks are set up, though how they got there, Yoongi isn’t really sure. Someone must have magicked them through the path or up the hill or something. There are picnic tables scattered around, mostly near the food trucks, but throughout the clearing, as well. Towards the edge of the clearing, there’s a cliff with an overlook that has a spectacular view of the city vista below. People are everywhere. Of course, there are a lot of college-aged kids hanging out in big and small groups. But there’s also a shocking amount of people that are Yoongi’s age and older–professors, he assumes, and university staff here to enjoy the evening. Almost all of them are holding drinks, and just about every one of them seems to be paired with someone.

It’s subtle sometimes, seeing bonded witches and familiars. Of course, the ones who are romantically involved tend to be more obvious, but the ones that are just friends are just as easy to spot once you know what to look for. It’s the people who stand so close together they’re almost touching, the ones who lean in a little extra close to whisper something. And the clearing is full of pairs standing in each other’s personal spaces.

You tug on his hand to direct him off to the left and he blindly follows, squeezing your fingers ever so gently as a response. 

There’s a pair of people at one of the tables by the food trucks. They spot you almost immediately, and one of them stands to greet you. He’s a little taller than you are, made even more obvious when he gives you an awkward, one-armed hug over the picnic table’s bench. The other one–a woman–remains seated, eyeing Yoongi.

For a hot minute, it’s weird, as he stands there in silence while you chat with the man and woman. It’s not even the side-eye that the woman’s shooting him. The man is handsome–Yoongi’s not blind–and you are friendly with him. But there’s a moment, the briefest of moments, where you gesture somewhere off to your left. And when your body moves, Yoongi’s arm moves, too, and a little part of him, a silly, childish, hopeful part, soars.

You’re still holding his hand.

Eventually, you introduce him to the two. Alice works the reference desk in your library while she’s doing a doctorate program in linguistics. Her partner is gone in the winter, fighting fires in the far south. Despite her harsh side-eye, she greets Yoongi with a smile and a polite handshake. Jihwan, on the other hand, is the head baseball coach at the university. How the two of you met, Yoongi can only guess, but you make no mention of Jihwan’s partner, and Yoongi doesn’t see a gem anywhere. He almost–almost–starts to feel bad for the guy, but then he opens his mouth.

You ask a simple question, gesturing with your head to the food trucks. “What do they have good?”

“The pierogi guy from last year is back-”

Jihwan interrupts Alice. “Too much butter.”

It’s not even what he says. It’s how he says it. Like you and Alice are toddlers, like you can’t be trusted not to drown yourselves in carbs. But you roll your eyes and Alice scoffs playfully, and Yoongi realizes that this is not the first time Jihwan has done something like this. And suddenly, Yoongi hates this guy. 

“Apparently, he’s got a new flavor this year,” Alice says, continuing like Jihwan never interrupted. “But the taco guy is also back-”

“Is the popcorn guy back?” you ask. laughing. “Because I kind of want a front-row seat to that.” Yoongi must look confused, because you explain. “Pierogi guy’s daughter was engaged to taco guy’s daughter. But last year, pierogi guy and taco guy just started yelling at each other-”

“-It was amazing,” Alice adds.

“It was ridiculous,” Jihwan mumbles.

You push him.  “It was a little like having our own little telenovela here.”

Cautiously, Yoongi asks, “Why were they fighting?”

“No one knows.” You shrug. “But it launched a campus-wide food war. Everyone was choosing sides. It was like the year the Moondance tried to change its logo.”

Jihwan and Alice look at you, a little confused. But Yoongi knows exactly what you’re talking about. Somewhere around when you were preteens, the owners of the Moondance diner decided that its logo was outdated and wanted to update it. The whole town had been in an uproar, whole neighborhoods entering into a Cold War-esque stand-off over their preferences. People who had been friends for 50 years were suddenly in an unsolvable, unending argument. All over a color palette swap and a slightly newer font. Yoongi hadn’t cared much one way or the other–all businesses change their logos at some point, right?–and he always suspected that you didn’t either, but you’d both gotten swept up in the chaos of it all. It was stupid, ridiculous fun, and he’s pretty sure that his parents still have the buttons you’d made somewhere in their house.

You finally let go of Yoongi’s hand when you’re standing in line at the taco truck, and he’s painfully aware of how empty it feels now. You don’t go far, though, standing close enough that your elbow brushes against his every once in a while. You’re scrolling through your phone, reading some news article to pass the time. It’s gotten darker since you’ve been there, and looking up, he can just barely make out a couple pinpricks of stars in the sky. The clearing is fairly bright, with little flickering balls of light criss-crossing the space like bistro lighting, and the lights from the city below don’t help to make the night sky visible. 

You pay for his tacos–”I get an employee discount,” you say, brandishing your university id like it’s a black card–and Yoongi doesn’t think that you were in line that long, but when you return to the table, Alice and Jihwan are gone. 

“Where’d-” He’s not even asked the question, but you’re already shrugging.

“Alice’s probably off calling her fiance,” you say it like you’re back in high school, all singsong-y and mockingly, “and who knows where Jihwan got to. Probably trying to take someone home tonight.”

“He seems…”

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“How’d you meet him?”

A pang of… something hits him. Your expression falls, ever so slightly, and he regrets asking. But after a brief moment, you clear your throat. “He and I are the only two on campus without gems.”

Oh. 

Well.

That makes sense.

“So they…”

You pick a piece of red cabbage off your taco and eat it. “Yeah, they know.”

Which explains Alice’s side-eye earlier. The weird emotion he’d gotten from you is gone now, and you seem to have just brushed right past the awkward feelings. 

He hums, not really sure what to say. What’s there to say? So instead of saying anything dumb, he does the safe thing. He changes the subject.

“No wonder they didn’t kick the taco guy out of the festival this year.” He takes another bite of his taco. “This is the best al pastor I’ve ever had.”

“His chimichangas are amazing, but he only makes them on special days.”

“More special than…?” He gestures vaguely. Around you, the lights have started to dim. Yoongi isn’t really sure when that started, but things are definitely less bright.

You laugh, and something inside of him warms.

He hasn’t even finished his tacos yet, but the vibe in the clearing starts to dramatically change. The crowd gathers tighter, a palpable buzz in the air. Alice has returned and stands alone near the head of the table. She’s looking up at the sky, and when Yoongi looks up, he sees why. There’s an aurora in the sky, gentle waves of effervescent greens and blues swirling through the heavens, just like the night market all those years ago. It has to be magic of some sort–the city isn’t far enough north for it to be natural–but he can’t tell who’s doing it.

A hand on his shoulder pulls his focus back to the ground. You’re there behind him, bathed in the dim glow of the floating lights around you. By now, it’s almost dark, but even in the low light and deep shadows, you’re beautiful. 

“Come on,” you say softly. “Let’s get a good spot closer to the lookout.”

He follows you through the crowd, weaving around the bodies to get closer to the edge of the clearing. It’s tight, and you grab his hand so you don’t get separated. Normally, Yoongi isn’t a huge fan of crowds like this. You’re a small island in a sea of people, and he barely has room to turn in a circle without bumping into someone. You stand close–close enough that he can feel your warmth through the chill of the night.

The city spans the valley below, a forest of metal and windows and concrete. A bright spot in the middle of an otherwise dark night. But then, individually at first and then more, the buildings’ lights begin to flicker out.

“They’ve been doing this festival since before the city got public electricity,” you explain, answering his question before he could even ask. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

With the lights of the city mostly out, the stars above are much brighter. He can almost see them twinkling and winking as they burn, millions of billions of lightyears away. The night sky is beautiful, and his eyes drift around to locate the constellations he’d learned as a child. Almost immediately, he finds Perseus, right beside his wife Andromeda. You’d loved the myth of Perseus slaying Medusa when you were kids, and even though he hadn’t looked for the constellation in over a decade, finding it is still ingrained in him. 

He nudges you slightly, pointing up to the constellation. But just as he does, a pinprick of light streaks across the sky. You squeeze his hand as more streaks start to appear and the gathered crowd buzzes with ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s. The meteors are all sizes. Big and bright. Small and thin. They aren’t constant, only a few show up every minute, but it’s beautiful to watch. 

There’s a strange sensation growing in his chest, something warm and fluttering and all-encompassing. You lean a little closer and the feeling grows. You must sense something–he’s never really been sure what his emotions feel like for you–because you look up at him. For a moment, you look confused.

Yoongi isn’t really sure how it happens, but what he does know is that suddenly, your face is centimeters from his own. He thinks that maybe someone bumped you and you took a step closer, but maybe that’s just his brain trying to fill in the gaps. He also knows that he’s the one that closes the space between you, leans in and brushes his lips against yours. It’s quick, a little impulsive, and truthfully, it feels a little forbidden. 

He pulls away, not far enough to make it seem like he’s made a mistake, but enough that it gives you an out, if you want it. His brain starts making all these calculations–what he should do if you back away, what he should do if you slap him, what if you don’t react.

But then you whisper, “Why’d you stop?” and your hand slides up his chest to grip the lapel of his coat. You tug with a surprising amount of force, and when your lips connect, he feels himself soaring. 

His entire world narrows to the points where your bodies connect. The firm touch of your knuckles against his shirt, the way your leg presses against his, but mostly the heat from your lips as he deepens the kiss. You fit against him perfectly, as if you were made for each other. He’d only kissed you that one time, but somehow, he’d missed it, missed you. 

When you finally pull away, you stay close, pressed against his chest–though whether that’s fully your choice or because of the crowd tightening around you is anyone’s guess. He can feel your heart pounding, and when you shoot him a small smirk, he’s pretty sure that you can feel the pace of his own pulse. Your grip loosens on the collar of his coat and you smooth it down coolly before your arm wraps around his back. Without a word, you cozy in, pressed close as your gaze returns to the sky and to the stars.

For a moment, he stands there, unmoving, mind empty. But then it’s like he snaps out of a trance, and he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. His focus shifts to the shooting stars above, catching one just as it streaks across the sky. As he stands there, staring at the heavens and feeling your steady breathing, his mind begins to wander.

12 years, 7 months, and 3 days. He’d spent most of that time wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t left. If, after he’d kissed you at the night market, he’d been satisfied with whatever life had come after that. He’d been so scared back then, of losing control, of his life not being his own. But now, none of that matters.

Now, he’d give up almost anything to stay here, in this moment, in your arms. 

okay so like... what do we think? how are we feeling? I was originally planning on having this be much longer, but I was so stressed out from grad school, I just wanted to get it out now. I'm so excited to hear your thoughts! and let me know if you want to see a part 2 (and if so, what you might want to see in it!!)

[theladybrownstarot]

Future Spouse first impression V/s Yours

❀ Here's my masterlist for more !

❀ Make sure you like/follow/Comment/reblogg for more pacs like these !

❀ This pac will be guiding you to how to manifest your connection with some channeld messages from them

Pile 1 . Pile 2. Pile 3.

𐙚 Pile 1 .

Namaste pile 1 ! Let's get with your reading :-

❀ Their first impression over you :

Okay , pile 1, from what I can see feel read and understand is that this person is gonna think of you someone as a hopeful person , even when you are in difficulty you will get instant solution . I guess when you will be meeting them you two or either one of you maybe going thru some problems and one of you will offer help .

They may see you as someone serious also . they feel that light and passion dripping from your eyes and melting their hearts to see as who you are . they will see you as someone brave , passionate , bold , honest , warrior or fighter , someone who stands out among everyone , someone who they can depend on wow pile 1 hands up to you ! this person is gonna study you like their favorited subjects .

They will see you as someone who doesn't give up and really you will be their type they had like to be passionate with . They think that you expect honesty from everyone and really they will do same for you ..they will show who are they like in actual to win your heart and they do see you as someone rational and smart and someone who is good at proving their logic.

It is possible that you may appear cold , defensive and bit egotist but its okay because for them you will matter most . this is gonna be an instant strong attraction for them .

❀ Your first impression of them :-

okay pile 1 are you ready for it ?! lets dive in buds, hmm so it maybe possible that you will actually feel like " finally I found you at last" when you will meet this person for sure . I can see you thinking about them as an achiever ; who got may accomplishment . this person is gonna astound you up for sure haha .

you will see them as someone is who is giving , loving , caring and who got people to support them . I can see you as if you will feel like he\she is my pure air to breathe under in forever . I feel this person is very good by heart and nature . you will think of them as someone calm , rich , luxurious by their nature , appearance and personality . they are an extrovert for sure , but ig u may even thin that this person may give a lot but in end may sometime get in trouble but I also feel that this person won't hold grudges because they don't care about people , they have best emotional and mental control babies and i guess you want someone like them . This will be a dream come true for sure for y'all .

𐙚❀˖° How to manifest with connection fast ?

you need to be expressive of your emotions and about yourself so you can transfer and spread your energy in this crowded world to signal them .

𐙚❀˖° Channeled Messages From Them :-

(1) just hang in there my love im coming so don't be sad I will save you up from the darkness .

(2) meet more people and find me darlo , I m around you haha .

(3) with you my life seems more prosperous and I will be blessed to u have you as my greatest gift .

𐙚 Pile 2 .

Namaste pile 2 ! Let's get with your reading :-

❀ Their first impression of You :-

so i see that this person will think of you as someone strong minded or we say overall strong in nature . someone who can take a stand alone for themselves in the worst situations , someone really positive during hard times. aah i see self made individuals an mature people .i see leo and sun astrologically by vision . they will see you someone who is really charming even when you are silent .

okay , it must be possible that when you will meet this person you will a some sort of breakup or breakdown out there . this person will want to hug and console you for sure . i don it just hit me maybe when you cry you look more beautiful . or it maybe at least case that they had a breakup when they met you .

They will see you someone very charming , transparent , innocent , clear minded, focused , beautiful for sure .

❀ Your first impression of them :-

Okay , i can see you seeing them haha someone of a dominant personality lmao . this person ur future wife/ husband basically will be of an obsessive of nature . you may see them as someone who may restrict or cross boundaries of someone else . they person will be strong minded for sure . they will be strategic . could be boss or into military or police service . they will be muscular .

since i you will see them who is clear headed to do achieve the aim . they aren't that dominant to but can be little bit more caring . its possible that this person is gonnaaa be lazyy uff ... and could be that isn't that adventurous or stuck somewhere in their life ..will be having some transition and will be kinda scared or confused to how to go through this transformation . maybe you can help them somewhere.

𐙚❀˖° How to manifest this connection fast ?

SO , u may meet them at some sort of celebration or something maybe a party . you need to maintain your ownself like be careful of what you do and think plus be yourself ! enjoy your life .

𐙚❀˖° Channeled Messages from Them :-

(1) You know i need some time ; i'm stuck try now .

(2) I will come to you when you will show you real self .

(3) I want to have a happy family with you . i wanna take care of you as a queen/king of my life and will be loyal to .

(4) I want some rest i'm tired mentally .

𐙚 Pile 3 .

Namaste pile 3 ! Let's get with your reading :-

❀ Their first impression over you :-

Okay , I sense that this person will think of you as someone who is doing alot of self love or we say someone who is interested in themselves.

They won't be shocked to see you at first instead I see them as being like I wanna be with her/him even If I have to let go of things .

I see that u maybe would have left toxic people behind in your life to know and establish your own self worth and this person will sense same .

They Will daydream about u and their scenarios in Mind haha ♡ cute ! They will see you as someone beautiful and maybe one part of ur body is chubby like 🧸 ♡ .

❀ Your first impression of them :-

Okay , it feels like that you may not notice them as you must be having some fights and mental conflicts and even when you will see this person you may see them as someone smart, observant and intelligent. Your Mind will be playing games with you tbh . You will feel shy infront of this person.

For some people OR few I see that u may see them as someone who is experienced and matured after prolong emotional breakage .like bad relationship experience and failures ect or vice - versa .

It might be possible that you will get people saying that no bro don't focus on that person,that person is mine kinda jealousy vibes tbh .

I see for most of the people that u will be meeting them during high-school time.

𐙚❀˖° How to manifest this connection fast ?

You are being told to cooperate with others . To ask help from others like your friends or colleague to recommend some choices and all . For least to go on a trip of some sort .

𐙚❀˖° Channeled Messages from them :-

(1) show ur strength but be In a flow .

(2) I'm so attracted to you that I wanna take you from everyone ,just to trap u and protect u in my heart .

(3) you are my most unexpected gift from divine and universe .

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:

©️ @theladybrownstarot 2023 all rights reserved. Any stealing or copying of work will be a punishable offence.

[apute11as]

Chosen family - Barcelona femeni x teen!reader

Summary: You’ve been keeping a secret for too long and the team start to figure it out and how to help you through it!

Warnings⚠️ Abus3, vi0lence, loss of parents, descriptions of injury, angst, hurt comfort, fluff

Author note: hey guys this is an angsty one, don’t read if you get triggered by any of the themes above! Hope everyone is well, I’ll be posting at lot more soon just getting through exam season right now! But yeah enjoy the story, leave any feedback or requests in the comments 🩷

P.s. My DMs are always open for anything, Woso related or if you just want to talk! Always here for anything xx

~~~~~~~~~~

You tried to push down the worry of your current situation as you got ready for training in your room. You were only 16 years old, due to your mother passing a year ago, you lived with your father in Barcelona.

The team knew about all of this of course, Alexia more than anyone had been especially supportive, knowing how it felt having lost her father when she wasn’t much older than you. She’d become somewhat of a sister to you. Her, alba and Eli becoming the female figures you lacked in your life, always offering advice and help whenever you needed it.

They knew your father wasn’t the most loving and that since your mother’s passing he’d become a cruel depiction of his former self. What they didn’t know was quite how deep that cruelty ran. He had turned to drinking when your mother had died, you regularly came home from training to find him passed out from the alcohol. It had started as pitiful, he’d just cry and you’d hug him and the two of you would comfort each other, but recently his sadness had turned to anger.

He’d always had a temper and was never the nicest but your mother’s warm presence always made his outbursts bearable but now that she was gone he had no one to regulate that anger. At first it started with hurtful words, some aimed at you and some not but in recent times, his anger had turned physical.

The first time he hit you, you’d wanted nothing more than to cry into Alexia’s arms and have her tell you everything was going to be ok. You decided against that, using your better judgment that it would cause a complicated mess that you didn’t want to condemn her to. It had happened twice more since, on Monday he’d shoved you backwards into a wardrobe, causing you to cut your head, something you’d brushed off as tripping and falling which the team seemed to buy. Yesterday he’d grabbed you by the wrists and squeezed until bruises formed, before pushing you into the table where you bashed your ribs.

Now as you observed yourself in the mirror, you could see the dark bruises that had already formed across your stomach and ribs, matching ones adorned your wrists. You pulled your hoodie over your head and slung your bag over your shoulder, wincing slightly as it came back round and hit your side.

Ingrid and Mapi would be here to pick you up soon as they’d starting taking you to training as you’d told them your father picked up earlier shifts at work (also known as day drinking). Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door you leaped from your spot in the kitchen and went to open it. You of course, were met with the faces of Mapi and Ingrid who smiled widely at you.

“Hola pequeña!” beamed Mapi

“Hola Mapi” you sighed. What you weren’t expecting was for her to barge through the door.

“Sorry bebita I just need to fill up my water. Someone decided to take a sharp turn whilst I was having a drink.” She explained, gesturing to Ingrid who looked unimpressed at the blonde’s antics.

“Woah what’s all this?” She questioned at the various, empty beer and rum bottles that littered your kitchen.

“Erm my dad had some people over yesterday that’s all” you offered nervously

“Seems like they had quite a party” she said, getting at the sheer quantity of it with a raised eyebrow.

“Haha yeah I don’t know I wasn’t there” you replied

“Wait where were you then?” asked Ingrid, asserting herself into the conversation

“Well… I was at my friend’s house for a bit, then I came home” you offered, unconvincingly.

“Oh ok then, well grown adults really should be clearing up after themselves, we can swing by after and help you if your dad is at work?” Added Mapi

“NO!” You yelled, alarming the pair of them. “Sorry, no thank you he’ll be home later and said he’d sort it but thanks anyways” you said, attempting to save yourself due to the accidental outburst.

“Sure that’s fine…” Mapi replied, sounding unsure

“Ready to go now?” Questioned Ingrid from her new found position in the hallway

“Yep so ready!” You responded

The drive to training was slightly awkward, so you’d ask for some music in an attempt to diffuse the situation (it had little effect).

——

Upon reaching the ground, you hurried out the car and wandered a little ahead, fully aware of the fact that they strolled behind muttering about your odd behaviour. You made it inside with the couple trailing a few paces behind you and were met with the smiling face of Lucy bronze.

“Hey y/n how are you?” She beamed

“Hey Luce I’m good how are you?” You replied, offering her a smile of your own

“Good good, Keira kept pestering me about being late this morning though” she said with a sigh

“You were still in bed when we were leaving in 30 minutes!” Keira insisted with an eye roll.

You chuckled at the couple’s childlike antics as you walked over to your locker and began stripping off your clothing when you heard a sharp intake of breath next to you.

“What?” You questioned the English defender

“What happened to your ribs?” She asked in a hushed voice

“Mierda, I forgot about them. I erm tripped… and fell… into the bed post” you replied, knowing you had to work on your lying.

“It looks quite painful and it’s all around your front and sides, how can you do that from falling?” Asked Lucy, concern lacing her voice

“I just did ok, leave it please!” You demanded with a huff, pulling your jersey over your head.

Lucy didn’t push further, though she did make a mental note to keep an eye on you.

——

When you finally made it outside you were met with the warm Catalonian sun beaming down on your face. You had a mandatory team talk and then Jonatan, as usual asked you to pair up. Without a second thought, alexia gripped your wrists and dragged you to her to partner up. You winced noticeably at the gesture as her firm grip found its self on the new formed bruises from yesterday.

“Estas bien pequeña (are you ok)” she questioned with a concerned expression

“Si Ale estoy bien (I’m ok)” you assured the older girl.

“What’s this on your wrists?” She inquired with a firm tone. “Did I do this?” she was now increasingly concerned.

“No no you didn’t do it it was already there” you replied hurriedly

“What was it from?” She questioned further

“Erm from… the match? I had a tussle with someone she gripped my wrists too hard” you lied

“You’re lying to me bebita I can see it in your eyes” she scolded “but why are you lying I don’t understand” her brow furrowed

“Alexia! Y/N! Stop gossiping and get over here!” Yelled Mapi in a teasing tone, a tone that only she could get away with using towards Alexia due to their close friendship

“ay dios mío Maria we’re coming” replied Alexia and before she could say anything more you’d disappeared, already jogging over to join the group and no doubt, avoid her further questioning.

——

Training ended and you rushed ahead, desperate to get away asap to avoid questioning from the multiple behaviours that had noticed your odd behaviour or the state of your body.

You reached the changing room out of breath (more so from sprinting over there than the actual 2 hour training session you’d just attended). You quickly shoved your stuff into your bag and began to scramble away before your upper arm was grasped.

“Where do you think you’re going” rung the voice of Lucy Bronze

“Home?” You replied as if it were obvious

“I thought Alexia was taking you home?” She questioned

“Oh erm yeah tell her it’s ok I’m gonna take a bus” you offered hoping she’d leave you alone

“Alexia come here” beckoned Lucy, her body shielding you from the exit, as you groaned at the implications of this conversation.

“Que pasa?” Questioned alexia with curiosity

“Y/N says she’s getting the bus home” grasped Lucy

“No she’s coming with me? I’m taking her home” she was confused.

“I think the two of you need to have a chat” suggested the brunette

“Yes I think so too” Alexia responded, her disapproval clear in her voice.

The two of you wandered to her car silently, she kept glancing over at you, almost to check you hadn’t disappeared again. She even opened the car door and watched you get in to ensure your presence.

The drive started in silence yet again, with you picking at the skin on your fingernails, but that was short lived.

“Bebita please answer me truthfully when I ask you this…” Alexia began, her eyes not leaving the road ahead. “What happened to your wrists and ribs? Yes Lucy told me about that before you change the subject again” she finished

“I don’t know what to say Ale” you said, your eyes beginning to gloss over.

“The truth Por favor amor” she insisted, her eyes still not looking at yours.

“My papa, he’s taken up drinking lately, quite heavily and it’s changed him” you started

Alexia knew where this was going but she let you finish, unsure of what to say even when you did.

“He-he gets angry now all the time. He used to be an angry person anyways but Mama always used to calm him down and now she’s gone I just-“ you choked back on tears.

Alexia had pulled the car over and took your hand it hers, squeezing gently as if willing you to continue.

“He would shout at me, come home drunk and just scream” you continued. “It wasn’t physical for a while it was just words, b-but recently…” you trailed off once more, finally meeting Alexia’s eyes that were glossed over and full of sadness. “Recently he started to do other things. He hit me and threw me into things, like in something to take his anger out on” Alexia’s grip lay firmer on your hand as she let you finish. “It’s like he’s a different person lo siento” you spluttered as the tears streamed down your face

“Bebita you have nothing! And I mean nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry that we didn’t notice sooner” she replied with a maternal warmth in voice.

“It’s ok Ale I was trying to hide it” you added, calming down a little.

“But why pequeña? We could’ve helped you” tears were threatening to fall from her eyes now.

“But all that would happen is I’d end up in care or on my own and I can’t do that Ale, anyone is better than no one at all” you urged.

“You would have had me! You do have me!” She corrected.

“I know Alexia and I love you so much for that but I couldn’t live with you, interrupt your life, how would you girlfriend feel?” You questioned the blonde.

“She would understand bebita you know that really” insisted Alexia.

“What am I going to do” you cried

“Is he home?” She asked

“Who?” You rebounded

“Your papa” Alexia winced at the name that in her opinion, that man was no longer worthy of.

“No he’ll be at the bar for at least a few more hours”

“Bueno, we’re going to go back to your apartment and gather some stuff and then we’re going to drive to my Mami’s okay?”

“Okay” you weren’t overly convinced yet you still went along with the older girl’s plan, praying your father hadn’t decided to make an early departure from the bar.

——

Upon reaching your apartment block, you gave Alexia your keys as she insisted she would go first, keeping a protective arm on your body behind hers. You let out a sigh of relief when you realised your father was still out.

Alexia’s eyes scanned the floor, taking in the broken glass and general mess everywhere, the two of you tread carefully over to your room. The first thing Alexia noticed upon entering was the sheer contrast of your bedroom, to the rest of the house. It was near spotless, with most of your belongings having seemingly vanished.

“I put most of it under my bed or in the wardrobe” you proclaimed, as if you’d just read her mind. “I didn’t want to give him any extra ammo” you half joked, but Alexia didn’t laugh, instead she pulled you into a tight hug, a hug that said more than words ever could.

You pulled away eventually, realising that you were going to have to start doing some packing as every minute that ticked by was time closer to your father coming home. You started by gathering up your football gear, as it was likely your most important possessions, asides from your memory box that you’d made up when your mother had passed. Standing there for a second, you ran your hands over the cold metal of the lid, reminiscing on a time when your family was “perfect” and things were much happier.

Alexia on the other side of your room, was gathering up some clothes for you. On another day, you’d cringe at the fact that your captain was rummaging through your underwear drawer, but today was not that day.

“Almost done bebé?” questioned the midfielder

“So just gathering some last bits” you assured her, before piling a couple of textbooks, your water bottle and your laptop into your bag.

Just as the two of you made your way out of the bedroom, your mind clicked.

“Wait!” you urged

Alexia turned around at rapid speed, a mix of confusion and concern overtaking her. But before she could question you, you reappeared at the door holding a stuffed bear.

“Sorry it’s childish, it’s just something my Abuela gave me when I was younger”

“No no not childish at all, it’s sweet actually” she smiled. “Don’t tell anyone but I’ve still got my childhood teddy bear at the back of my wardrobe” she admitted

“Really?”

“Sí, now vamos cariño” she insisted

——

You loaded your stuff into Alexia’s cupra before walking around to open the passenger seat door, Alexia following suit.

“I’ve text Mami telling her what’s happened and she said you’re more than welcome to stay at hers” offered the captain “if you’d rather stay with me that’s perfectly fine, I have a spare room, you’ll have to share with the Nala though” she chuckled.

“Thank you Alexia, I’m honestly happy either way I’m just so grateful you’ve been so kind” you replied genuinely.

“Don’t thank me chica te amo mucho ok? If you ever need anything or anyone I’m here, remember that.”

“Gracias Ale”

——

The journey to Eli’s was short and once you’d arrived, Alexia made quick work of unloading your minimal bags and carrying them all herself, despite your protests.

She did however hand one to you when the two of you reached the door, just so that she had a spare hand to knock with, which she did.

The door opened and you were surprisingly greeted with the face of Alba, Alexia’s younger sister.

“Hola chica, it’s been a while” she hugged you, albeit lighter than normal (the first indicator that her mother had told her everything).

“I saw you last week Albs” you smiled

“Oh yes… well it’s been a while anyways” she laughed awkwardly

“Hola mija” came Eli’s voice from behind

“Hola Mrs putellas, thank you so much for offering me a room” you smiled and hugged her back.

“I’ve told you call me Eli, and it’s no problem at all. I hope you don’t mind but Alexia told us what happened, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, you’re basically my daughter already”

She wasn’t wrong, even before your father’s drinking problem, you were here at least once a week for dinner (Alexia and Alba insisting you were their mother’s favourite child, to which she didn’t disagree with).

“Gracias Eli” you smiled at her

——

The four of you sat and ate dinner and discussed what was to happen, ultimately deciding you’d stay with Alexia for a little while as her apartment was closer to the training grounds and it would be easier for her to take you with her everyday. Then it was decided that Eli would file for your adoption, something you knew your father would agree to as just he wasn’t himself anymore. You’d set him up in rehabilitation for his alcoholism and see to it that he gets better.

Despite Alexia’s disapproval, you’d decided not to file a statement and testify against your father, stating that it would cause unnecessary issues and that you’d be far away from him anyways. Eventually, all was agreed and you and Alexia returned home to inform Olga of the plans, which to your slight surprise, she was completely okay with.

Alexia decided that the two of you wouldn’t attend training this week, you had no match anyways due to it being Christmas break so the two of you spent some time together. This helped not only you, but her more than you’d ever know. Ultimately, you decided that you’d tell the team what happened after the break, deciding now to enjoy the holidays with your knew found family.

[allywthsr]

LEO LECLERC | (c.leclerc)

summary: you and Charles get a dog

wordcount: 1.8k words

pairing: charlesleclerc x fem!reader

warnings: dogs

notes: how cute is Leo? My goodness.

You and Charles had been together for quite a while now, while he was busy racing all over the world, you were staying at home and working, sometimes you would join him for a race but most of the time, you couldn’t just get off work. Even with meeting your friends and being busy with your own work, you still felt lonely, especially at night. You never knew what could happen, due to having your address leaked by a few fans, you had people ringing the doorbell at two am. Sometimes friends slept over, but you needed someone to cuddle with when Charles was gone.

You‘ve always thought about having a dog, and all the cute puppies on your Instagram page had you swooning, just like Charles, he had always kept a close eye on your phone whenever you went down a rabbit hole of looking at cute dogs, seeing what kind of dogs you loved and spent hours of watching, he secretly always watched videos as well, but he also knew that a dog meant more work than it seemed in the videos.

It wasn’t like you two were seriously talking about getting a dog, sometimes the topic would randomly occur and you fantasized about the life with a dog, but you weren’t even sure if Charles would be a hundred percent okay with a little companion.

Until one Thursday evening, it was an off week for Charles and you were cuddling on the couch, watching some Netflix, when his phone rang. Joris was calling and Charles left the living room, you heard him mumble something in French, but you couldn’t hear him clear enough to fully hear what he was saying. Shortly after he came back and sat down again, you looked at him, he normally never left the room when he received a call.

“Joris called to tell me something.”

That made you sit up, nudging him slightly to talk more.

“I know how lonely you felt these last few weeks when I’m not around. And I know that you love dogs, so I aske-”

“You got us a dog?!”, you screeched in his ear, to which he shifted a little more far away, so he could keep his hearing ability.

“Not yet, Joris knows someone whose dog accidentally got pregnant and wants to sell some puppies, I thought we could go there tomorrow and see if any puppies like us?”

With tears in your eyes, you nodded and hugged him tightly, this was your dream, a little someone to take care of, a new best friend.

During the night you had trouble falling asleep, too excited to look at the dogs, so when the clock hit 7 am, you got up and took a shower, after you prepared some breakfast and woke Charles up, the faster you could get there, the better.

You both were nervous during breakfast, this was a big decision, a dog was a responsibility for several years, but you knew he or she would have the best life in your home, and your lives would also get better. There would always be a little cuddle buddy, someone to play with, and someone who needs your attention twenty-four-seven.

Joris didn’t say what breed it would be, only that the pregnancy wasn’t planned, but the puppies were adorable, and you didn’t doubt that for one second, every puppy was a cute creature.

The drive was rather short, only thirty minutes until you reached the family home, when you rang the doorbell, you could already hear dogs barking, and when the door opened and an older lady smiled at you, you could hear little puppies crying. You introduced yourself to the woman, whose name was Margarete, and she welcomed you into her home. After she offered you a coffee, she led you into the room where a big playpen was standing, and five little light brown puppies were sleeping. The little golden retriever dachshund mixes had the cutest little floppy ears and the softest-looking fur you had ever seen.

You quietly gasped after seeing these angels, and the first one lifted his head, after hearing a strange noise, and got excited when he saw you and Charles, waking his siblings in the process. After the puppies were awake and barking at you, you couldn’t wait anymore and carefully got in the pen, immediately you had four dogs crawling all over you, and the fifth one was sitting in the corner, crying for his mother, he was smaller than his siblings but in perfect health. Margaret told you she was currently training them to be separated from their mother, and so they could be crying, but when Charles joined you in the pen, the little fella walked over to him and sniffed at his knee, before getting up on Charles leg and finding a comfortable spot to sleep, after all, he was a small puppy.

From that moment, you knew this puppy had your heart, seeing how comfortable he was with Charles, and how he was crying for his mama a second ago, these two had a special connection.

Charles also fell in love with the little boy, he picked him up carefully and the puppy started to lick his face, which Charles commented with a chuckle. You two looked at each other and you knew what he was thinking, you found your little love. Charles gave you the fella and he also started sniffing you, giving you small licks on your chin, when you held him close to your chest.

Margaret came in and saw you cuddling with the dog, she knew you made a decision when you looked at her, “That’s Leo, you can change his name if you want to, but my grandson named him that way.”

Leo fit him perfectly, Leo Leclerc.

Charles and you took your time to cuddle some more, really making sure Leo liked you and wasn’t scared.

After doing all the paperwork with Margaret and learning about the needs that a little puppy had, you two left the house and went straight to the pet store, you still had to wait two weeks until you could pick him up, but you two were way too excited to not go and shop for Leo.

The cart was almost full when you waited in the queue to pay, food, toys, leashes, beds, and more stuff waiting to be used by Leo.

The next two weeks were going by slower than you’d hoped. Every day you chatted with Margarete and she sent you pictures and updates from Leo, the little puppy was doing great and got his last few shots at the vet, now he was ready to come home to you.

It was a Saturday when you picked him up, Leo got excited when you had him in your arms, licking everything he could reach, while Charles paid for Leo, and signed the last papers. Now he was officially yours, your own little puppy, to cherish and love.

On the way home you spilled some tears, while the little angel was sleeping on your lap, this was a dream come true. Now you wouldn’t be as lonely anymore when Charles was gone, but you also had a little companion when you two were together.

The first few steps Leo did in his new home were wobbly, he was a little scared, so you and Charles settled down on the floor, just to make sure Leo didn’t feel lonely and had someone he could go to if he needed emotional support. But he was a brave boy, and even if his steps were slow, he still looked around the apartment, sniffing all these new smells and he already found his favorite spot, which was underneath the piano, where a furry rug was lying.

You let the little puppy sleep and started making dinner, Leo must’ve been exhausted, he left his old home and his family, and now he was with strangers in new surroundings, but he felt comfortable, or otherwise he wouldn’t be sleeping like he was now.

The evening was spent cuddling with Leo, when you and Charles were lying on the couch, watching TV, Leo tried to get up on the couch and when Charles picked him up, he settled on your belly, where he took another nap.

The first night was nerve-racking, you had read a lot of articles, so you prepared for the worst. Leo and you two went to bed at around eleven pm, the little puppy lay down in his dog bed that Charles placed in the corner of the room, and two hours after you fell asleep, you got woken up by little whines that came from Leo. You grabbed him and put on his leash, and Charles and you went outside, where Leo did his business. Charles held your hand, while he had the leash in the other hand, he looked adorable with his jumper pulled over his head.

Back at home, you laid in bed again, but before you could fall asleep, little whines came from Leo again. Charles let out a sigh, “Do you think he needs to go outside again?”
“But he did his business, maybe he misses his family? They slept cuddled together every night after all.”

So he got up, picked Leo up, and came back to bed with him, when Leo settled between you, he stopped crying and fell asleep.

The next morning started off early, Leo licked all over your face and started playing with your hair, even if you were sleep deprived, when you opened your eyes and looked at Charles with Leo, all of this was worth it. The way Leo’s tail was wagging when you filled his food bowl with the puppy food, you think you died from diabetes, but Charles wasn’t any different. You already caught him way too often when he sneaked a treat to Leo, and you only had him for a day.

You also caught Charles cuddling with Leo while he was doing sim work in his simulator at home, or while taking a nap on the couch, or how Leo followed him everywhere Charles went. He already loved his new dad. Just as much as he loved you.

The ice cream launch was when you wanted to introduce Leo to the world, the little baby was frightened by the flashing lights, but when Charles held him, he calmed down again, in general, he felt most calm when he was in Charles’ arms.

Leo loved small walks, he couldn’t walk for long, he had small legs and was exhausted easily, so you all could walk for fifteen minutes before Leo had enough and wanted to be held, that's why you and Charles were often seen holding him.

You couldn’t wait to see Leo grow up and have the time of his life, especially Charles couldn’t wait for him to join him at a race, Leo would be his emotional support dog, in these hard times at Ferrari.

[a-hazbin-reader]

HELLO HELLO I HAVE ANOTHER ONE BUT ITS A 2 IN 1????? ALASTOR AND READER REACTING AND HELPING ONE ANOTHER DURING A PANIC ATTACK??????? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

I GOTTA DO IT I JUST GOTTA-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Panic attacks

Description: ☝️⬆️

SO-

It's really REALLY difficult to get Alastor to honestly open up to you about ANYTHING, even as his S/O

He will keep everything to himself, not out of any maliciousness but because he's not used to letting his guard down

Hides most of his fears behind his smile and quick wit

But you don't land The Radio Demon himself by not knowing him and his inner turmoil by not seeing the signs

You can see the cracks in his persona before even he can, knowing when he's about to break down

You try to talk to him about it beforehand, but he always brushes you off, telling you that he's fine

He tells himself that he's fine that everything is under control

It's always a little thing that sets him off, the last straw that broke the camel's back

Doesn't even realize that he's losing it until there's tiny tear pricks in the corners of his eyes and he's gripping his head so tight that he's hurt his scalp

Just repeats to himself that everything is fine, everything is okay, he's got everything under control

Breaks your heart when you see his painfully tight smile and watery eyes, shaking like a leaf

"Alastor..? Oh honey..."

Flinches when you place a gentle hand on his back, surprised that you snuck up on him

Tries to lie to you, bottle his emotions back up and may even try to seduce/fluster you depending on how frazzled he is

But you see through it, you always see through him

"Hey no...it's okay to be upset..."

Reluctantly leans on you, letting you hug his head to your chest until his hyperventilating stops and he's soothed by your heartbeat

Will put all of his strength into not letting himself cry, digging his claws into you as he grips you tight

His shaking finally stops once he relaxes into your hold, accepting your comfort

Don't make him explain himself, just help him ride it out until he can be himself again

When you two pull away he'll try to go on as if nothing had happened, springing up with renewed energy

Please don't comment on what happened, he's already embarrassed

"Alastor, come talk to me next time...okay..?"

"...I appreciate the offer, my dear."

That's the most you'll get out of him but he does start listening to you when you tell him to take care of himself

If anybody tries to pry into it then he'll just try to scare them off or redirect their attention

It's hard being so evil

You on the otherhand-

Whether you follow your own advice or not, everyone has a panic every once in a while, it's natural

It sneaks up on you and hits you like a tidal wave when it does happen, you hardly register your body crumpling to the floor

You feel so sick-even the air tastes bad

You can't breathe-where is the air???

Your body is white hot and ice cold all at the same time and your thoughts keep racing and-

You're in someone's lap suddenly, curled into their chest as sharp hand soothing the back of your neck

Your mind is so fuzzy from panic that you can't even recognize who it is, only instinctively leaning into their scent

"Y/N, whatever has you so upset, I promise we can face it together..."

Alastor-

He lets you throw your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder, only holding you tighter in response

Pretends that this is just a normal conversation the entire time, talking endlessly about his day and what he did

Somehow it works and you find yourself calming down, becoming invested in his story

Before you know it, you're laughing at something Alastor said Niffty did and you've forgotten that you were ever even having a panic attack

Alastor doesn't let you go even when you move to get off his lap, unwilling to part with you after seeing you so vulnerable

"Let's just take a little time to be with each other, shall we?"

If you want to talk about it then he'll listen while keeping his lips pressed to your temple, giving you reassuring squeezes

If you don't want to talk about it then that's fine, he's not going to force you or even bring it up again

Either way, the moment you two part ways then he's back to his witty, snarky self and he expects you to be yourself too

If anybody asks, he'll just lie and say you two were playing twister

Charlie two years later: They weren't playing twister...

It's a horrible lie but he doesn't care, he dares them to question him and his precious S/O

I HOPE THIS IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!! I wanted it to be soft 😭

[vrystalius]

I have been way too shy to ask you for a request and now that i am here writing it, it feels weird but, i love your writing way too much ❤️❤️❤️ can we get the Hashira and upper moons if it's not too much 😅. A scenario where they always been in love and had this huge crush on reader but they always say "I will confess when the moment is perfect" but then the reader falls in love with a boy from the village ,but then he breaks her heart by leaving her and now she is crying and sulking in her favourite spot when they find her and now they take the opportunity to confess telling her she needs someone who actually loves her and takes care of her.

(Sorry if it's too much it's my first ask and I don't know how else to put it please pardon my bad english) ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Heartbroken

You’re crying from being heartbroken. What will the hashira do?

Note: I kind of completed this request differently and noticed it too late, I’m so sorry! And I apologise that it took so long. Thank you for sending in a request, I am extremely honoured that you entrusted me with this ask. I’ll try to write one for the Upper Moons as well. Your english is perfectly fine! Again, thank you!

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x gn!reader

Sanemi Shinazugawa

He’s been denying his feelings for you for a while now. You’re too pretty, too smart, too strong and way too good for Sanemi to even have a single chance at dating you. He has been holding his feelings inside while watching you talking interacting with that damn kakushi everytime you saw them. Sanemi saw how much your eyes brightened up and your smile widened when with them.

He hated it so much. He fucking hated himself for feeling all these things and how much they’re making his heart hurt. It was distracting him from doing his missions properly. Sanemi started to get careless, getting slashed more often and taking more hits during practice. The others started to notice how absentminded he seemed and grew worried for the wind hashira.

Sanemi felt selfish when he helped you lean against his shoulder, holding you close to himself. Your tears were dropping onto his shoulder, beginning to soak his uniform. That damn kakushi rejected you and broke your golden heart, and now you’re here, crying against him. His hand was gently rubbing up and down your arm, trying to soothe you.

His mind was clouded with guilt, now thinking that he might have a chance with you. Was that shitty of him to think of that right now while you wrapped your arms around Sanemi and cried into his shoulder?

“I’ll kill that damn boy for ya. You don’t deserve gettin’ your heart broken…”

Kyojuro Rengoku

You two have been friends for such a long time and Kyojuro fell for you quickly after meeting you. He rants about you to his little brother, boasting about your incredible kindness and intelligence and how truly powerful you are. An incredible hashira who managed to defeat so many demons on your own! Senjuro would always listen quietly while sweeping the porch or preparing a meal for him as his brother. He noticed how brightly Kyojuro begins to glow and how his eyes shine. He truly loves you, he can tell. His brother might not even be aware of how much he actually fell for you.

Kyojuro was more heartbroken to see you this upset than being happy for himself that he has a chance now. He tried everything in his power to cheer you up and comfort you by giving you encouraging words, comforting touches and a big bear hug.

You two have been talking for hours now, about your feelings and what you want to do now. Kyojuro even offered you his dessert while you talked.

“How about you come home with me and we could eat dinner together with my brother? Company might do you good!”

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei would feel guilty for wanting to have you for himself after hearing that you expressed interest in one of the kakushi. Instead of persuading or trying to convince you to not confess to the kakushi, he’d actively try to bring you two together. If you are happy, Gyomei is. That also included on behalf of his happiness.

He’d encourage you to speak with the kakushi more, to create a bond between you two and create more of a chance that you might have a romantic relationship with him. Whenever you got nervous or unsure, Gyomei was there to encourage and offer advice to you every time.

After your heart was broken, the first person you thought of seeking comfort from was the stone hashira.

His deep voice and gentle hand on your back was incredibly comforting, making you lean against him. Your head was resting against Gyomei’s chest after he wrapped his large arm around you and soothingly stroked your back, offering his comfort.

“It will be okay. Your heart will heal in time. Please know that I will be here for you if you need any support.”

Giyu Tomioka

Giyu didn’t want to get close to you after noticing how much you like that kakushi. He doesn’t want to interfere with your love life and who you choose to be. Instead, he drowns in misery and a wave of depression. Giyu barely spoke to you, and now he’s completely ignoring you. You felt bad for him and wondered if something might have happened that caused him to be so… downcast and depressed. Fearing that you are the reason why Giyu’s acting like this, you decided to stay out of his way as well, just in case.

He accidentally stumbled upon you after your heart was broken. You were crying your heart out while Giyu just awkwardly sat down beside you. His posture was stiff and he wasn’t sure how to comfort you, so he just patter your back silently. He felt a slight glimmer of hope in his chest after finding out why you were so upset, but was extremely bewildered why someone would reject someone as perfect as you.

In Giyu’s eyes, you are the most beautiful, intelligent, powerful, fast and best person in the whole entire world. How could someone be this blind and not see that? Even Gyomei probably knows how beautiful and perfect you truly are, and his eyes are completely clouded. Giyu carefully scooted a little closer to you and made you lean your head onto his shoulder in an attempt to offer comfort.

“You’ll be okay, trust me.”

💠

Again, so so sorry it took so long. My brain was being a little fried and I couldn’t work on any asks and I instead posted my own things. I’m planning to work on more requests!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

[01zfan]

keyring | s. es

ex!bf eunseok x reader | 4k words

i had a little too much fun writing this.

contains: no warnings

eunseok was the one that pursued you, he wasn’t ashamed to admit that. he was actually proud of it, bringing it up to you whenever he got the chance.

your relationship began in the spring, when it was impossible to not be outside. with the relaxing time that came with the season, neither of you had any obligations. it was perfect, the two of you were able to spend all of your time together. looking back now the two of you were stupid in love, recklessly living day by day instead of looking to the future. 

when the next winter came, the effort your relationship needed wasn’t there. your warm apartment where love was in full bloom became cold and desolate. the same place where you two spent all your time together was spent apart, or wishing you were alone. when you two sat on the couch, your thighs were no longer pressed against eachother, the shows you watched together would always end with someone on their phone, and when you both went to bed you no longer cuddled until both of you fell asleep. you two laid on opposite sides of the bed, only muttering a quick goodnight before turning out the lights

you watched the petals fell from the flower that sat in the middle of your table. the only flower left alive in the bouquet from your last date was withering. both of you had forgotten to take care of the flower for so long it was dying right in front the two of you. you looked past it to see eunseok on the other side. his eyes were focused on his plate, not looking up even when he asked if the food was good. you had lost your appetite, poking your food from one side to the other

the blame went both ways, you could admit that. when eunseok would come home from work you found yourself wanting to be alone. sometimes you found him to be overbearing, and you found yourself thinking about when you were single. you thought your way of taking responsibility was confessing to eunseok after dinner. before he could go into the bedroom to retire for the night you grabbed his hands gently, pulling him to the couch to sit beside you. he had a look in his eyes you couldn’t face, so you looked at your hands in your lap while you told the truth.

“the spark is gone.” you reasoned.

eunseok said nothing, completely stoic as you poured your heart out. you talked about the way you two never were together anymore, how you both had grown so distant. 

“i don’t want this to end either.” you said.

it was the truth and eunseok knew it too. there was a part of him that wanted to ask how to get you to change your mind, but he knew it was pointless. all eunseok could do was apologize and offer to give you your space. he squeezed your hand tightly for the final time, kissing the back of your hand like he always used to do. 

something about that made it hurt more, how he almost seemed blindsided by the breakup. you expected eunseok to fight with you, to let you know the ways in which you failed as his girlfriend. but he said nothing, only bringing you in for a hug while you cried into his chest for the next hour. 

nothing about that night was easy. your heart broke again seeing eunseok pack an overnight bag to go stay with his friend. he passed by you on the couch, muttering quietly that he would be back for more of his things in the morning. you only nodded your head, teary eyes locked onto your television to keep yourself from bawling or begging him to stay. 

you didn’t break down until you head the door close, and you didn’t stop crying until you fell asleep on the bed you used to share with eunseok. 

when you woke up in the middle of the night your eyes still felt puffy and your nose was running. before everything set in it was peaceful for a moment, you even turned to eunseok’s side of the bed to look for him. when you remembered it hit you like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs. your heart was breaking all over again. you held onto his sweater tightly as you wiped your tears.

you didn’t know that eunseok still had his keys. you thought he had left the key on your desk while he was leaving to tell you he was never coming back. 

eunseok himself planned to do it, he wanted to leave his key silently to eliminate the temptation to come back. but he was a weak man when it came to you. he took the key with him, telling himself he needed it to get the rest of his things quietly the next day. 

the temptation of going back called to him when his keys dangled from the ignition of his car. each red light eunseok hit he had to fight the urge to do a u-turn in the empty streets and make his way back. if his friend wasn’t waiting for him outside he was sure he’d do it.

when he made it to sungchan’s house he was brought in for a big hug, being told repeatedly everything would be alright. eunseok only nodded in acknowledgment, telling his friend absentminded thank you’s. what eunseok’s attention truly was on were the keys to your apartment stuffed in his jacket pocket. he was too busy running his fingers over the cuts and bitting of your apartment key to respond to his friend properly. all of his focus went to feeling the key llike he was trying to memorize the ridges. 

when sungchan was asleep eunseok was still awake, staring at the ceiling and moving constantly on his friends couch in an effort to clear his mind. eunseok couldn’t help but wonder what you were doing. if you were sleeping in the bed too big for just you or if you were cramped on the small couch like he was. he thought about if you were crying or holding your tears in like him, if you had already gone through your camera roll to delete the memories you two had made together.

the more eunseok thought the more restless he became. he turned to look at where his keyring rested on the coffee table. the gentle calling started to sound like yelling, only quieting down after eunseok got up from the couch. before he knew it he was tiptoeing through sungchan’s apartment, heading for the front door.

eunseok made it back to the apartment too fast. it was too fast for him to try and reason with himself, or to talk himself out of going back to you. clarity didn’t come to him as he parked his car next to yours, or when he cleared the steps to your walk-up two at a time. clarity only came to him when he stood in front of your door, one hand on the doorknob ready to turn. finally, the small amount of self control he had left stopped him from pushing the door open. 

eunseok looked down the hallway of your apartment building. he could leave and come back in the morning, pretending like he didn’t drive all the way here for unknown reasons. he might have been able to even ask a favor from his friend, so he wouldn’t have to see your face ever again. 

before eunseok could walk away, he heard the tiny sound of you sniffling on the other side of the thin walls. he turned the door without hesitation, not bothering to kick off his shoes while he made his way through your tiny apartment. he found out that having a key was unnecessary anyway, your door was still unlocked from when he left. 

your crying ceased when he closed the door behind him, and when eunseok came into your bedroom he saw you sitting up on the mattress, alert and wide eyed.

“what are you doing here?” you asked.

you stared at him like he was a ghost. eunseok felt his blood go cold, almost having to lean against the door to keep himself upright. he was no longer the person you looked to with love or the playful glint in your eye. all he saw was confusion as you wiped your tears with your index finger.

“you didn’t lock your door.” eunseok said.

eunseok stood in the doorway. he wasn’t too sure why he was here either. all he knew was that you laid on the bed on your side, leaving eunseok’s side completely empty. the wound from the breakup was so fresh on eunseok’s heart that nothing had set in yet. you seemed to be the same, muscle memory almost caused you to pat eunseok’s side of the bed to welcome him.

eunseok came onto the bed from his side, coming close to you. he stayed at the side for a moment, looking down at you looking up at him. the scared look in your eyes changed, pushing him to test the waters further. he leaned part of his body on the bed to come close to you, trying to see if you would back away or shake your head to tell him no. but you let him get close, so close that his breath fanned your flushed face and partially dried your tears. when eunseok was closer he could see the fresh tear tracks on your cheeks and your eyelashes clumping together from crying. he couldn’t help his eyes from softening or his thumbs that went to the bottom of your face. he was the doting boyfriend he used to be in an instant, wiping away the remaining tears with his thumb. you closed your eyes and settled in, not holding back a small sigh of relief as you melted into his hands.

“did you forget something?” you asked once you opened your eyes.

eunseok wanted to curse himself for not touching you like this sooner. for not being the boyfriend he knew you needed. you were so soft inside and out, everything about you just melted into his hands. 

eunseok knew you needed someone better, someone who could give you what you needed. but when he thought about someone else touching you like this in the middle of the night his body had a visceral reaction. he couldn’t stop the jealousy from bubbling in his chest at the thought of your tears being from pleasure another person was bringing you instead of the pain that eunseok caused. sadness was in the downward cast of your eyebrows and your pout, something eunseok couldn’t smooth out with the pads of his fingers. most of the pain was from your eyes, they were misty and stared back at eunseok going right through him. when eunseok didn’t answer your question, he saw your big eyes become hopeful.

“what are you doing here?” you asked again.

eunseok didn’t know. he was still trying to figure out the answer when he pulled you in by your face and pressed his lips against yours. eunseok partially expected you to freeze, or to pull away. but your hands went behind his back instantly to pull closer by fistfuls of his shirt. 

when eunseok felt your mouth open for him, he kissed you back with a passion you were sure he had forgotten. you didn’t know that he was capable of still kissing you this way, so powerful it pushed you head backwards as you tried to match him. one of your hands went from eunseok’s back to behind you in effort to balance yourself. when he felt your hand leave his body, he wasted no time grabbing your arm. he pulled it towards him, forcing you to lean into his body for support.

eunseok guided you slowly to the bed, kicking off his shoes quickly to get on the bed fully. he straddled your legs first, continuing to kiss you while hovering over your body. 

eunseok didn’t stop kissing you on your side of the bed that you two used to share. his hand that didn’t hold your arm helped your face keep balance as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. you tried to prove you didn’t need him by preening into his lips, ignoring the uncomfortable way you had to lift your head from the mattress. when your other hand tried to fist his hair to bring him down to you, eunseok grabbed it to press both your hands into the mattress above your head. 

eunseok pulled away from your lips to look down at you. his brown eyes watched your chest rise and fall quickly as you tried to catch your breath. you were both quiet, trying to comprehend what situation you had gotten yourselves into. you tried to keep your cool, only breathing through your nose as you tried to figure out what to say. for once, eunseok spoke for the both of you.

“i can’t say bye to you.” eunseok murmured.

his free hand traced from your chin to your neck, trailing down until he went back down to suck harshly at your skin. you whined and fought against his hands, wishing you could touch him.

“so don’t.” you said breathlessly.

eunseok let his teeth bite down on the skin of your neck harder than you were used to, but you didn’t pull away. you leaned into his teeth more, taking the slight pain as punishment for how you treated him. eunseok noticed you didn’t shy away, pulling from your neck to blow cold air on the new mark.

“taking me back already?” eunseok asked.

you shook your head, spreading your legs until they pushed at eunseok’s inner thighs. he got the hint immediately, to slot himself between your legs. you looked down at the pants both of you were still wearing, lifting your hips up slightly. eunseok dragged his hand down your clothed chest and you sucked in a tiny breath. both of you watched silently as eunseok stuffed his hand down the front of your shorts. he teased you again, kissing your jaw as he cupped your heat. he could feel your warmth in waves and how wet you were on his palms. eunseok looked up from your jaw to see your head press into the pillows as he slid two fingers in with ease. you gasped and then craned your head to look down at him. your eyes still looked wet as you spoke.

“we shouldn’t be together.” eunseok hummed in agreement, still pumping his two fingers in and out of you. when he bent them at the knuckle you closed your eyes and looked up to the ceiling. “i still need you though.” you whimpered.

eunseok hummed in agreement again. he pulled his fingers from your shorts and stuffed them into your mouth, making you taste yourself. he watched you with satisfaction as you cleaned his fingers up without hesitation, tongue peaking past your lips as you tasted it all.

he kissed your forehead when he took his fingers out of your mouth before reaching down to your waistband. he pulled them down your to your thighs, letting you frantically kick them off the rest of the way while he moved his body to the side.

he fumbled with his belt as you kicked your shorts off your ankle to the ground. when eunseok wasn’t moving fast enough with just one hand you whined and pushed against his grip on your hands again.

“let me help you.” you whined.

eunseok ignored you, finally unbuttoning his pants only a moment later. anticipation built all over you when eunseok didn’t bother pulling his pants down all the way. he pulled his briefs and jeans down at the same time, barely making it past his knees while he scooted closer to you. 

before you could say anything else he wrapped his hand around your thigh to pull your body closer to his. it was effortless for eunseok and it caught you off guard while you travelled down the bed. eunseok let his dick slap against your stomach heavy and angry while precum leaked onto the fabric. you looked up to eunseok after feeling the weight and how he twitched. your hand that would usually grab eunseok's length and guide it to your entrance was restrained, forcing eunseok to take matters into his own hands. he grabbed his dick and pumped his length before quickly sliding it down your pussy until he could feel your hole.

he looked up from between your two bodies to look you in the eyes. they were large and looked at you with care, so different from his frantic movements earlier.

“ready?” eunseok asked breathlessly.

he put the tip of his finger inside of you to feel your walls flutter around him in anticipation. you nodded your head pitifully, wishing you could use your hands to guide him in yourself.

“please.” you begged.

eunseok only guided his length a little further in before he let go, letting himself slide in the rest of the way. you let out a cry, it had been too long since you felt eunseok inside of you. intimacy in your relationship had been absent in your relationship for so long it felt like the first time again. you could feel all of eunseok as he slowly slid in, and your hands grasped for nothing as he bottomed out.

eunseok moaned looking down between your two bodies before he looked up to his hand that held yours against the mattress. he smiled at you in his hold, pressing your hands further into the bed for emphasis. his moans turned into a grunt of satisfaction when you fluttered around him again. he pulled out to thrust in hard and fast, hitting that spot that had you turning your head to stifle moans into your arm.

“you still need me?” eunseok huffed.

his effort to sound mad was undermined by the struggle in his voice. it had been too long for him since he had felt the way he fit perfectly inside of you. eunseok felt lightheaded when you clamped around him tighter at his teasing and how you pitifully nodded your head.

eunseok guided one of your legs over his shoulder while your other leg hopelessly tried to find stability. when you tried to bend your knee to dig your heel into the mattress eunseok hit a little deeper, causing your foot to slip on the soft sheets. when you tried to wrap your leg around his waist to lock him in place he only shook his head, not letting you take charge of the situation at all. it was the most petty eunseok has ever been, denying you any control. he always went with the flow in bed, not focused on who was in charge as long as you both felt good. but tonight eunseok wanted to show you what true effort was and how much pleasure he could bring you if you let him do everything.

it was hot and stuffy in the space between the two of you. neither of you spoke anymore, the weight of the previous day keeping you both silent. the way you talked was through whimpers and fighting against his grip, and eunseok spoke to you by leaving fresh marks on your exposed skin. both of you huffed in air, chests rising so high they pressed together. 

eunseok’s hand had moved to press your thigh closer to your chest. you wanted nothing more than for eunseok to bring you in for a hug and to tell you everything was going to be okay like he always did when you came. but you knew you didn’t deserve that anymore, and it wasn’t eunseok’s job to validate you anymore. maybe it was best to be in this situation with him, where he was just someone you used to know who came around every now and then to fuck you.

you started arching your back off the bed, desperate to have eunseok come down to you. he didn’t have to hold you, but you just needed his body pressed against yours. he smothered your senses when he came down to you everything was all about him. the way he still had your hands in a vice grip above your head, the way he still smelled like you, how you could feel his sweaty forehead press against yours. when you opened your eyes to see him looking down at you, it became too much. you dug your heel into his back to make him fall into you more, and started lifting your hips to fuck yourself on his dick. eunseok moaned before biting his lip, as if he was trying to hold back how good you were making him feel. his hand pressed into your hip to hold you in place but you shook your head and won in a battle of strength against his hand. he was still weak for you, his facade crumbling as he saw your orgasm take over. in the middle of your haze he pressed his lips to your sweaty forehead quickly before pushing his pants a little further down his legs.

eunseok came after you did. he let your walls spasm around his dick erratically as your hands continued to fight against his grip. you had folded your hands over eunseok’s to dig your nails into the back of his hand, as some sort of consolation for not being able to move how you wanted. but eunseok knew you loved it because it took effort for him to hold your hands above your head while simultaneously fucking you senseless. maybe eunseok didn’t have the effort you needed romantically in a relationship, but he would make it his mission to give you everything he had in him physically.

eunseok only let himself go after the look in your eyes focused to look at him softly. it was your way of silently begging for him to finish inside, something eunseok wasn’t entirely sure he had the right to do anymore. but when you stopped digging your nails into his hand and you mouthed please against his lips, eunseok knew he couldn’t control himself. any thoughts he had to pull out and cum on your stomach were discarded when he twitched inside of you for the final time.

he let out a groan and you mirrored it, whimpering as eunseok stilled inside of you. he let go of your hands to interlace his fingers with yours the way he always did when he came. if it was too intimate you didn’t stop it, using your other hand to bring him in for another kiss. this time it was you kissing eunseok passionately, kissing him through his groans that had turned to whining from overstimulation. you had almost forgotten everything from the day before, how you two were technically not together anymore. the low hit you after the high, and when eunseok went to the crook of your neck to sniffle you felt yourself holding back more tears of your own. 

sniffles were coming from the crook of your neck for a while. usually when eunseok was finished he would normally stay inside of you, peppering your face in kissing and telling you how perfect you were. he would be cheesy while letting his full body weight rest on you playfully acting oblivious to the way he was crushing you. but now he let go of your hand a little too quickly and pulled out even faster. he moved away from your side of the bed to the side that was formerly his. the speed that eunseok moved away left you shivering. the cold in your room and on your skin was complete opposite of the heat inside of you that started seeping onto your bedsheets. 

in the aftermath you noticed the haste. eunseok’s pants were at his ankles as he pulled them up, and the and both of you still had your shirts on. he didn’t look over at you while he bent over to put his shoes on forcefully.

everything was happening to fast, you felt your heart begin to sink at the thought of eunseok leaving you alone for the second time in the past twenty-four hours. 

before he could grab his keys from the edge of the bed you moved first, snatching his keyring in your hand. eunseok looked to you surprised, the post sex flush on his cheeks obvious even in the dark. your boldness had turned to desperation, and you hoped you were still the girl eunseok could never say no to.

“can you stay here for the night? just one night?” you asked quickly.

eunseok sighed and ran his hands through his hair. he knew sungchan would wake up in the morning looking for his friend. maybe sungchan already knew where his friend would be.

“we are just friends.” you added quickly, as if either of you would believe it.

eunseok scoffed and ran his hands through his hair again. his keyring reflected the moonlight in your hand, and he recognized the house key as the one you reached for. he didn’t need his keys to call to him again as he settled back into the bed, kicking off his shoes slower this time.

“just friends.” eunseok agreed.

for the first time in a long time, eunseok saw a smile on your face. it was small and pitiful, but it was a smile nonetheless as you came closer to him. eunseok laid both of you down for the second time that night, cuddling you close underneath his chin as you fell asleep with his keyring clutched in your hands.

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 7 - Condemnation~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: As you try to cope with Alastor's absence, you find solace with the King of Hell, who presents an interesting offer. However, some unexpected news from Husk forces you to rethink your plans.

Themes: The usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness, cursing, fluff, eventual smut, actual plot, Lucifer is a cunning shit, slow burn, Husk is going to be in trouble, and of course 18+

3.2k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 (You're on it!) Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

The last few days (weeks?) have been a blur. It was a weird switch going from sleeping terribly because you longed to be near him - to sleeping constantly so you didn’t have to feel your body long from him. Anyone who came to your door was just told you weren’t feeling good. “Just caught a stomach bug, don’t come in! I would hate for you to catch it.”

Today you decided it’s time to finally leave your room. Charlie needs help and there are things around the hotel that need to be done before her meeting with Heaven. You aren’t one to let others down just because of your own emotional baggage.

You throw some makeup on to try to brighten your face. Usually, you wouldn’t be bothered but all the crying significantly darkened your eyes. I’d rather not let them see me like this. The less questions the better. Plastering a smile on your face, you head down to the lobby to get the list of ‘to-dos’ from Charlie. Surprisingly she isn’t there when you arrive, so you take a seat next to Angel on the floor. You lean your head against his leg as a silent ‘hello’.

“Hey toots, how ya feeling?” he says without looking up from his phone. “Better, thanks.” You say cheerfully.

“Good! Guess you and Smiles must have shared cooties ‘cause he ain’t been seen or heard from since Lucifer’s visit.” A pang hits your chest, but you try to brush it off. He’s probably just pissed off.

Charlie rushes down the stairs and scoops you into a lung crushing hug, “So so so soooooooo glad you’re feeling better! I didn’t realize how much you did around here! Could you do me a huge favor and go pick up a few things from the city and take them to my dad? He said he can meet you at this address. I have to go pack - Thank you!” Just as quickly as she came down the stairs, she hurries back, leaving you with a short list and an address.

For the first time in weeks, you leave the hotel without Alastor or his shadow close by. It’s not that you’re afraid of going out alone, but you realize you enjoyed his company more than you thought. You glance up at the radio tower as you walk away from the hotel and can make out a dark figure with glowing red eyes staring down from the window. Well at least that’s confirmation he’s still around.

You pick up the few things from a local shop and walk across the city to the address Charlie gave you. This doesn’t look right. The building you walk up to is more of an abandoned warehouse for a drug deal rather than a cozy meetup with the King of Hell. Cautiously you walk through the door which looked like it had been kicked in already. Just as expected, it’s an empty building with piles of trash scattered about. Graffiti and posters plaster the inner walls. You triple check the address on the small paper and it matches.

Sooo now what?

After waiting and pacing for a few minutes, you hear someone call out to you. You turn to see Lucifer standing outside a portal in the middle of the building.

“You didn’t actually think I stayed within the city, did you?” he chuckles as he motions for you to enter into the portal with him. Once inside you look around to see a large open room filled with…ducks? And this guy was trying to give me a hard time?

“Is – is this your office, sir?”

He boots a few ducks out of his path. “Yes, this is where I work on – important – matters. Also, no need for formalities, Lucifer is fine. Those bags for me?”

You almost forgot why you were even standing in the King’s office. All the piles of rubber ducks grabbed your attention and now you wanted to look through them out of pure curiosity. Handing over the bags, you keep scanning around the room. Lucifer notices your curious glances, “Would you – like to see my most recent project?” he asks nervously. You feel your face light up at the offer and he can’t help but mirror your excitement.

He starts to show you all the ducks he’s created, their names, what they can do. His eyes glimmer excitedly every time you display even the slightest interest in one. What feels like a mere fifteen minutes ends up becoming a couple hours. As he shows you the last of his collection, a solemn look crosses his face.

“Thank you for this. I don’t get a lot of visitors and haven’t really been able to share my work since Charlie…grew up. Plus, it’s nice to see you smile, especially after our first encounter.”

Your breath catches at the memory of that night. Not so much the crying in the arms of the devil part - rather the grief you felt shortly after. “Oh – thank you for taking the time to show me. Truthfully, I haven’t had much reason to smile lately so it’s a lovely change.”

His smile drops. There's a long pause as he fights with himself to find the right words, “Did he…Alastor I mean…hurt you that night? You can tell me. I know Charlie is close with him, so you probably don’t feel comfortable -”

“He didn’t hurt me. At least not in the physical sense.” Frowning, you curse at yourself for being too honest. You can’t help but feel at ease in his presence. He was Lucifer, King of Hell and easily the most powerful in all the seven rings. What ulterior motives could he possibly have or need? He has no reason to be anything other than genuine in his worry for you. He made it all too easy to tell him anything. Rule #1 Never trust another Overlord/Demon

He looks at you pitifully. I hate when someone looks at me like that. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.” You force a smile then hang your head towards the floor to hide the truth. The wounds were too fresh. The last thing you want is another breakdown in front of him. He’s seen enough tears from me. 

Two fingers pull your chin up to his gaze, “Your eyes tell me a much different story. Tell me, does he know of your power?” he asks delicately.

Weird, Alastor never really asked me to show him what I could do. He always just said he could ‘sense’ it. Your brows gather at the realization, “Not exactly. He knows I have it, just not what I can do fully.”

He lets go of you with a sigh of relief, “Probably for the best.”

“Wait, do you – “

“I do not know, though I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little curious. You must have something special to survive down here.” He flashes a devilish grin that makes heat rise to your cheeks.

Rule #2 Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have. Can’t hurt for the King to know, right? “Well you were gracious enough to show me your special collection. Let me show you something that’s special to me in return.”

Taking his hand, you lead him to his chair and motion for him to sit down. “Do you have anything sharp?” you ask. He hesitates slightly before grabbing a small knife from his workbench.

“So - I don’t know how this will work with the whole ‘fallen angel’ thing but...trust me?”

His worried eyes are surpassed by a warm smile, nodding for you to continue. You kneel in front of him and take his hand palm side up, “Sorry, this might hurt a little.” He flinches as you slice into his skin and golden fluid gushes from the wound. I didn’t know angelic blood was so beautiful.

Flipping his hand over, you press your lips to his knuckles. A hiss leaves your throat from the sting as the cut heals and blood disappears. Lucifer pulls his hand away to inspect his palm. “Wow…that is…..definitely something,” he breathed in amazement. His hands find yours as he stands to help you up from the floor, but he doesn't let go. Eyes widened in curiosity, “Do you feel anything when it happens?”  

You shrug, “Depends on the wound. Stuff like that just stings. Other times it feels like my body is getting ripped apart.”

Lucifer hums, drawing nervous little circles in your palms with his thumbs, “The gift of healing is something truly amazing.” He seems to lose himself in thought but continues to ghost across your skin. The light touch from his tracing sends you into full body chills.

“You're beautiful.” he whispers under his breath.

You catch his attention to pull him out of his own mind. “I’m sorry?”

“IT’S beautiful - the gift. I mean you’re beautiful too I just - I mean …” You try to hide your giggles as he continues to stammer like a schoolboy. It was refreshing to see him flustered like this, vulnerable and unsure of himself. He stops to take a breath and recollect his thoughts, “I'm sorry I’m just trying to figure out what you, of all people, could possibly want or need from that…demon.” His voice sharpened bitterly at the word. He really likes to poke the sore subjects doesn’t he.

“I didn’t need anything. And I wanted…it doesn’t matter what I wanted. He made his intentions clear that night that I was only some tool for him. He never cared. And I knew better but yet here I am - “

“Heartbroken…?” 

Tears swell in your eyes as he said the word. Uhg not again…Rule #4 Never let your weaknesses show. 

Lucifer wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you against him. He softly presses a kiss to your forehead then to each cheek, taking your fallen tears with his lips. Your body freezes at the sudden affection. This feels wrong…

“Look, I know things are getting bad out there, but I can promise you safety - true safety. You can stay here. Away from the sinners, the exorcists, him…you can be here with me and away from all the evil that floods the streets –“ “No!” you interject louder than you mean to. He cocks his head at your sudden outburst, looking offended but softens when he sees tears continue down your face. “I see why Charlie likes you so much my dear. You both try so hard to see the best in everyone and want to help. It’s unfortunate such kind souls like yours are taken advantage of far too often.” You feel his grip tighten at your waist as he presses a hand to your cheek. This feels so very wrong…Rule #3 Never bring anyone too close

You grab his wrists, not to move them away but rather to make sure they don’t travel your body any further, “I have ways of keeping myself safe, Lucifer. I appreciate your offer but I can’t…I won’t…hide away. I refuse to be caged when there are people out there that need help.”

He lets out a low chuckle and rests his forehead on yours. His eyes close as he sighs, “Your determination and stubbornness remind me so much of her…”

“Who?” you whisper.

His lips hover above yours, “Lillith.”

This IS wrong. “Luci –“

Before you can say anything else his lips interrupt yours. His kiss is gentle yet unwavering. Your body aches from how tense your body has become. Any other sinner would kill to be in your position right now, but your mind is only focused on one person – and it isn’t the one kissing you. I hate this...

Like a saving grace, Lucifer’s phone begins ringing with Charlie’s adorable baby picture lighting up the screen. He pulls away and answers it reluctantly, “Heeeey you! How’d the m – oh? Yes, we will be right there.” He hangs up with a groan and intertwines his fingers with yours, “We will have to put this to the side for now. Apparently, the meeting with Heaven didn’t go well. Charlie needs us back at the hotel.” With his free hand he opens a portal into the hotel lobby and pulls you alongside him. 

Stepping into the lobby, his hand keeps a firm grip on yours. You walk in just in time to see Charlie bursting into tears and running upstairs with Vaggie and Alastor trailing close behind her.

“Charlie wait – “ Vaggie tries to stop her but halts at the banister, knowing she is far too upset to talk right now. Lucifer finally lets go of you and rushes to follow his daughter, shoving Alastor to the side as he makes his way up the stairs.

His face twists into a snarl at the King’s boorishness. Realizing he wasn’t alone Alastor glances over his shoulder to see you staring. A strange mixture of hurt and relief fills your body seeing him for the first time since that night. He didn’t look like his usually pristine self. He looked…tired? Disheveled? Why does he look like he’s been worse off than me? As if he’s suffered just as much? You notice his smile falter as he looks back at you before turning to see Lucifer making his way back down the stairs.

“She seems to need some time alone.” Lucifer announces with a hint of hurt in his voice. Ignoring Alastor, he walks over to you and takes your hips forcefully, making you flinch at his grip. “I think it’s best I take my leave for now. Promise you’ll at least consider my offer, please? I’d hate for you to..” he glares back at Alastor to ensure he was watching, “…get hurt in any way. You’re worth protecting my dear.” He places a long kiss to your forehead and vanishes in a stream of red ribbon. 

You rub your sides where he had grabbed you to take away the sting. Your face contorts uncomfortably at the remnants of his touch and kiss. Alastor takes a step towards you almost unconsciously. You snap to his eyes, silently begging for him not to come closer. You want nothing more than to run to him, to feel his touch, his warmth, his safety but you know it'd just hurt more. He stops, offering a nod as he dissipates into his shadow without a word.

Vaggie fills you in on what happened in the meeting with Heaven. Your stomach turns at the idea of the Exorcists targeting the hotel and your friends. You know you’re going to be needed more than ever come that day. I need to be stronger; they’ll need all the help they can get.

You lay down for the evening hoping sleep would come easy but find your eyes only burning into the ceiling. The Extermination, Lucifer’s offer, Alastor…Your mind didn’t know what problem to try and figure out first. After lying awake for a couple hours, you give up and decide to go for a walk to clear your thoughts. As you walk through the lobby you give a quick smile to Husk who was closing up the bar for the night.

“And where are you off to so late?” he hollers, making you jump from the sudden break in silence. 

“Just need to clear my head, Husk. Have a good evening.” you continue walking towards the front doors. He quickly catches up and puts a paw on your shoulder, “Mind if I join? Some fresh air sounds pretty good right now.” You shake your head and step to the side for him to lead the way. 

The two of you walk in a comfortable silence around the small path circling the building. Distant yells and car horns fill the air from the city below. “Quite an exit from the King this afternoon. Sure got Al riled up.” Husk says casually. You stop dead in your tracks at the comment, “What do you mean?”

“If Al comes for a drink, it’s just that. A single drink. Tonight you would have thought he was trying to drown himself.” “If you came along to try to guilt trip me, don’t bother. He did this to himself.” you bite, continuing down the path in hopes he would drop the subject. 

Husk stops you again, “I ain’t trying to get in between whatever messed up relationship you two have, but as someone who is usually at the brunt of his bad moods, he hasn’t once bitten my head off since you came around. You have an…interesting…effect on that evil bastard.”

You shake off his hand, frustrated at the continued prodding. “That’s exactly what he is. Nothing more than a selfish, heartless -”

“He can’t be too heartless considering...” Husk stops himself seeing your head whip around. You walk back towards him, keeping your voice low, “Considering?”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously and takes a deep breath, “Look he never confides in me. I mean he barely speaks to me other than when he needs something. The liquor really did a number -”

You grab his shoulders to stop his rambling, “What did he say?”

“I - I didn’t even know he had the word in his vocabulary -”

“HUSK!?”

“He said…he loves you.”

If it wasn’t pounding so loudly in your ears, you could have sworn your heart stopped. Any air in your lungs felt as though it was sucked out, “What…”

“That was all he said before leaving for the radio tower. It about broke him seeing Lucifer with you. I never thought he’d say something like that out loud.” Husk says quietly, as if afraid someone else would hear the confession. You stare at him for a while, trying to process what he was saying. Your head starts to spin. Is he just trying to lie his way back to me? Why would he even tell Husk anything? Did he really lose his tongue from the liquor? “I - I need to s-sit down.” your knees buckle but Husk grabs you before you hit the ground.

“Woahh - alright yeah let’s get you inside.”

He helps you inside and sits you on the lounge chair in the lobby, “You okay kid?” 

You finally catch your breath and rest your head in your hands, “Yeah, just a lot to take in today. Thanks Husk. I’ll be good.” He takes the hint that you need a few minutes to yourself and starts to head to his room. 

“Actually wait - mind pouring me a double real quick?” you try to ask but it sounds more like a demand. Husk reluctantly walks back to the bar to pour your usual, “You uh - sure this is a good idea?”

No but fuck it.  

“Yes, it’s fine. Thank you again.” you slam back the drink, not letting a drop go to waste. You needed to feel the burn to ground yourself and prepare for what you were about to do. 

Husk leaves you in the lobby. You wait a few moments to allow the liquid courage to burn through your veins, then make your way to Alastor’s radio tower.

Here we go.

Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added!)

@rl800 @fairyv-ice @looking1016 @martinys-world @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp @alastorsgirl48 @mysterisumone @phamtasic @ohnah2022 

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 2

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

There's commotion from the house, loud enough for Eddie and Robin to hear it outside. Both turn towards the house, Robin halfway to standing up already, and the door is pushed open, El falling through it to get outside.

Someone calls El's name from inside, but she doesn't even turn around. She marches across the lawn to Eddie and Robin. "They are too loud and angry in there. Take me somewhere else."

Joyce makes it out the door next and with a raise of her hand behind her, one finger up, she stops everyone in the doorway. She descends the steps of the porch and Eddie is in awe about how much power she wields because no one follows after. Not even Dustin, who is the absolute worst at following orders.

"Whatever you need," Eddie answers El. He doesn't think she's blinked since exiting the house.

"We can go to Steve's," Robin offers. She's standing now and roots in a pocket of her jeans before pulling out a keychain with three keys on it. "Maybe it'll help being around all his stuff?"

"We can take my van," Eddie offers.

"That would be great," Joyce says, reaching out and grabbing one of El's hands in her own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Come on, let's get some shoes on."

"Thank you," El says, shooting Eddie a smile before her eyes drop down to look at Steve. A frown returns to her face before she turns and heads back into the house with Joyce.

Robin turns to Eddie, offering a hand to him. She's probably offering to pull him up, but he holds Steve out to her instead. He doesn't understand why she looks surprised at that, but she takes Steve, cradles him close to herself like he had done earlier.

Eddie climbs into his van, starting it and reaching over to turn the dial on the radio down so it's not blasting at the loud volume he keeps it on. Robin hovers with the passenger door open. "You getting in, Buckley?"

"Yeah, eventually. Just thinking if I should crawl in the back. Let Joyce and El have the seats?"

"Oh. Yeah. Probably."

She's absently petting Steve's hair, eyes slightly misty. He watches as she blinks away the tears before letting out a big sigh. "I just want to pass Steve off to whoever will be wearing a seatbelt. I've seen how you drive, Munson."

Eddie catches the teasing tone in her voice and laughs. "Fair. I'll take corners about 3 miles per hour slower than I normally do."

Robin laughs. "That's probably still ten above the speed limit."

"You should not speed," El's voice makes both Robin and Eddie jump. She's standing just behind Robin, and a quick look around shows Joyce on the porch, a worried look on her face but she makes no move to step off the porch.

"Is your mom coming?" Eddie asks. A complicated set of expressions crosses El's face and he's worried he might have asked the wrong thing somehow but then El answers.

"No. Just me. I will sit in the center," She slides past Robin and crawls up onto the bench seat of Eddie's van, scoots across the seat until she butts up against Eddie, and searches for the seatbelt before securing it.

"Here," Robin holds Steve out to El, who takes him, before Robin pulls herself into the van, shutting the door and buckling herself in.

Eddie doesn't go immediately because he's a bit busy watching El look at Steve. She's holding him like she's not sure how. She wraps one hand around an arm and his waist and uses the other to poke a porcelain cheek, right over the two moles just below his cheek bone. He can see the creases of a frown on her face.

"Are you okay, El?" Robin asks, which is good because he was about to, and he thinks his voice will come out more watery.

"I...," El looks up to Robin, then back down to Steve, "I do not know."

It hits Eddie like a freight truck just how young El is. He has to put the van in gear and drive to give his mind something to focus on or he's going to do something stupid, like bear hug El and ugly cry into her grown out buzzcut.

"Hey, that's okay," Robin says, "it's okay to not know how you're doing. This is a complicated situation."

"I barely know Steve," El says, which surprises Eddie. They all seem close, so much so that Eddie still feels like an intruder at times. Still, there is a tone to her voice that seems off to Eddie. "We do not have a reason to hang out. Not like everyone else. Lucas plays basketball with him. Dustin and Max claim him as their brother. Even Erica-"

El stops talking abruptly. Eddie glances towards her but she's staring down at Steve, so Eddie flicks his eyes to Robin, who is already looking at him and making an 'I don't' know' gesture with her hands before Eddie returns his eyes to the road.

"Mike does not care for Steve much," El continues suddenly, the tone still there and Eddie feels like he knows it, "I spent so much time with Mike that I think I did not care for Steve, either. Not on purpose. But- but in a way that you do not care about a thing because it is not important in your life?"

No one says anything else, because what can they say? Shortly after, Eddie pulls into the driveway of the Harrington residence behind Steve's Bimmer. "Alright ladies. Once more unto the breach!"

They crawl from the van and Robin unlocks the door. El and Eddie step through first. El moves into the house, clutching at Steve like he's her favorite stuffed toy. Robin freezes in the doorway, looks like she's not even breathing.

"Buckley?" Eddie is whispering and he doesn't know why.

"Sorry, sorry," Robin exhales a shaking breath. "It's just- Nancy and I- sorry. Uh, El, do you need us to do anything?"

She glides past Eddie to catch up to El and he is left to close the door. He wonders if, maybe, Robin should have also stayed at the Byers-Hopper home. It had been her and Nancy that had come to check in on Steve just this morning. It wasn't unusual to not hear from Steve sometimes (everyone needed their time to just be alone) but today must have marked Too Many Days for Robin because she'd called Nancy for a ride, and they'd found this. A locked house, Steve's car still here, and resting against the pillows of Steve's bed had been the porcelain replica. Nothing out of place, no ransom notes, nothing to make it seem like nefarious going ons had been taking place. Just the Harrington house, devoid of a flesh and blood Steve Harrington.

Coming back must be surreal.

"Eddie, you okay?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Eddie startles a little. He'd been lost in his own head for a moment there.

"Can El have your bandana? She needs something to use as a blindfold."

"Yeah," Eddie moves through the house, to the living room where El has sat herself on the floor in front of the TV. Steve is lain in her lap, a mirror of the image Eddie must have made on the front lawn. He pulls the bandana from his pocket, folding it diagonally before offering it out to El.

She takes it, eyes flicking up to Eddie's. She looks sad. "Can you make the TV staticky?"

"On it."

Robin closes all the blinds and curtains, making the house a bit darker and Eddie gets the TV on, white noise filling the room.

They sit in that white noise for what feels like an eternity but when Eddie checks his watch, is actually about 22 minutes, before El suddenly yanks the makeshift blind fold off with a frustrated huff.

"It is not working!" She shouts.

Eddie looks to Robin, but she looks just as lost about all this as Eddie feels. Well. Eddie's always been good with kids. He'll make the attempt. "El, you said earlier you didn't know if you were okay. Maybe figuring that out will help? It can't be easy to get into the right headspace with other thoughts floating around. "

She looks down at Steve, then back to Eddie. Her eyes are wet. "I am scared."

Eddie nods, "me too. This is scary."

"I am scared I will not find him," she says, then drops her voice to a whisper to continue, "but I am more scared that I will."

He really wishes Joyce would have come with. Or Hopper, Jonathan, Will, anyone who actually knows El. He thinks she need a kind of comfort he and Robin cannot provide. "Well, El, what's the part that's really scary?"

She's quiet for a long time. "Steve has never needed saving before. Not by me. What if I can't?"

"Oh El, it's not on you to save him," Robin says, sliding off the couch to be on the floor with them. She must have more information than Eddie about why El would say that, which makes since, because Robin was part of the conversation when they'd decided to have El try and reach out to Steve. "It's not fair that it's only you that can do this, but we didn't ask expecting you to fix it. That's not the pressure we meant to put on you. All we want is a confirmation. And if you can't, that's okay, too. That'll be okay."

El frowns, bottom lip quivering before she reaches down and picks up Steve, shoving him into Eddie's arms before she launches herself at Robin, arms around her neck and burying her face into Robin's neck. Robin looks startled, eyes wide going to Eddie. He pulls Steve to his neck, in an imitation of the position El is in, then hugs him with one arm and uses his other hand to pet at Steve's hair, trying to make meaningful eyes contact with Robin. She gets with the program, hugging El and petting the back of her head.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You want us to call Joyce or Hopper over?" Robin soothes, her body now gently rocking with El in her lap.

There's a muffled, quiet 'no' from El but that's it. She doesn't say anything else, or move, for a couple minutes.

El pulls back finally, away from Robin to sit up straight. "Okay. I am ready again. Please hand me Steve."

He does, belatedly realizing he was still cuddling and petting Steve. Oh. He really hopes that if Steve is the doll, that he doesn't have any sort of touch receptors going on. That'll be embarrassing.

Steve settled in her lap again, blindfold back on, El tries again.

It takes about two minutes before Eddie watches a bit of blood trickle out of her nose. He shoots a worried look to Robin before lifting a hand, intent on reaching out to El, but before he fully extends his arm, Robin stops him with a shake of her head.

Another eternity passes before El gasps and pulls the blindfold off.

"What happened? Did you find him?" Robin asks.

El looks from Robin to Eddie, then down to Steve, then back up to Eddie, a small smile on her face. "Yeah. He wants me to tell you 'thank you, for taking the time to explain because Dustin never does.' He said you would know what he was talking about?"

"Holy shit." He and Robin say it at the same time. Robin scrabbles over the couch, rather than around it, and dashes out of sight. Eddie doesn't think he could make his legs work if he wanted to. Steve can hear them. (Ha Dustin!)

El deposits Steve into Eddie's arms. "It is him. He does not know what happened, either. He can hear and see. He appreciates that you did not let the sun blind him."

"El, you are the most amazing person I've ever met," Eddie says and watches the grin grow on El's face. "Alright. Well, the first step to a solution is knowing and now we know."

Robin pops back into view behind the couch, "everyone is on their way here now. I tried to tell Will we'd go back to them, 'cause y'know, less people and cars to worry about but I guess they want the base of operations to be here. How mad do you think Steve would be if I got copies of my key made for everyone?"

"I can ask him," El offers.

"Nah," Eddie grins, "it's always better to ask forgiveness than permission. And you'll forgive us, won't you, Stevie?"

Steve, of course, does not answer, but it does settle something inside Eddie knowing that he hears the question.

Steve's a doll. They know that for sure. Now, they can find a solution.

[devotekuna]

Dad!Geto headcanons/drabbles

♡˗Geto who has experience rasing kids as he adopted Mimiko and Nanako, but not having experience raising babies let alone with someone else, it was nice having someone else to rely on.

☆His daughter who's called Hana is a carbon copy of him, black long hair, curly at the start but it would soon turn into long lushus locs.

☆Hana was very clingy when she was a baby, always crying when she didn't sense her father's presence, it was always so draining when he went to his little cult meetings as nothing would soothe her, not even her favourite and only aunts, Nanako and Mimiko.

☆Whenever she sees him coming towards her, crys stopping at an instant, little hands reaching out for a hug, who could blame her? She adored him despite her only being a few months old.

☆Geto who always puts her to sleep, even if you said you could do it, partially be abuse he wanted you to rest but also because his daughter loved him too much, always rocking her to sleep as she slept on his shoulder or patting her back.

☆Adores Hana reaching for something on his head, either it be his nose, earrings or hair, somehow always getting to chew it, complaints coming from his mouth as soon as he feels her release his hair and the wet surface hitting his skin.

☆Hana most definitely likes butterflies, always picking up a purple one and bringing it to him, sometimes putting it in his hair then trying to braid it, despite her efforts it still ended up flying away and the hair a mess.

☆Sometimes she gets taken to his cult meetings to keep the members off guard as she stared at her only for suguru to deal with his business.

☆She definitely dressed up like him, trying to bribe him with her cuteness and admiration for him to bring her with him, he always rejects her as he doesn't want her to see what he does only to promise to buy her Ice-cream or something.

☆Whenever they go to the park which isn't very often, he always carries her on his shoulders if she's too tired, always stopping for her to pet the cats or to go on the swings.

☆Hana loves when he cooks for her, always trying to help him, either by cutting up vegetables or helping stir the pot. She'd find a way to be close to her favourite parent, it being clear that she's a daddy's girl.

☆Whenever he falls asleep somewhere where his daughter can reach him, she takes advantage and puts sticks and felt tips all over him, but if she's feeling tired she'll grab her toys, blanket and pillows, always prodding one under his head as she sleeps on him, blanket wrapped around both of them.

☆He has a special room dedicated to her shenanigans, hiring a babysitter to do whatever she likes only if she doesn't get hurt, threatening to kill them if they upset her.

☆He's the type to walk Hana to school on the first day, wishing her a good luck and giving her a kiss on the forehead even if he was late for a meeting saying that they weren't as important as her.

"Who's/Where's my little princess?" "Papa brought you back some souvenirs!" "I'll let you braid my hair whilst I work" "Ask your mother if she wants to watch a movie with us" "It's a daddy daughter date"

☆He'd most definitely sacrifice anything for her, even if it was his own life, which goes the same for you too.

☆He captures curses which would make his daughter happy, take a curse that looks alot like a unicorn for chance, he'd spawn that in for her to ride it.

☆Hana definitely offers him some sweets or tea to make the taste of the cursed spirits go away as she hates seeing her father in discomfort. Always taking up on her offers.

☆He'd own a pond full of koi fish or a cat which he lets his daughter take care of, always loves coming home to the cat purring at his feet with his partner and daughter.

[farfromstrange]

If You Need To Be Mean | Matt Murdock x Reader

PART 1 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt can't take another step, but you won't let him fall apart on his own. And if he needs to be mean, he should be mean to you.

Warnings: Angst, self-loathing, hurt/comfort

A/n: This is the first installment of my follower celebration and Valentine's special. This is a more recent fic I wrote, but it's been in the vault for a couple weeks. I just wish I could hug him as Karen did because the one hug he got throughout the show was not nearly enough. I wrote this because of the scene captured in the gif below and got inspired by a certain set of lyrics in the song I Don't Smoke by Mitski. Enjoy this, and Happy Valentine's Day, you lovely people! Go hug someone you care about. Spend time with friends. Be nice to each other. And don't forget to love each other.

He’s so fucking soft.

He doesn’t look like it—this muscular, stoic force of a man who carries himself with a confidence that leaves the people around him speechless. 

He doesn’t look like the kind of man who would be soft. But you know him, and you know that no man could possibly be more gentle, more caring, and more vulnerable than Matt is when it comes to the one he loves and trusts more than anything in this godforsaken world. 

His undying devotion for you has turned him into an open book. Your fingers read the scars on his skin like Braille. When you look into his unfocused hazel eyes, analyzing the specks of forest green inside them whenever the sun hits his irises just right, you see the man behind the iron mask he wears to shield his fragile heart from the world. 

You’re well aware of the hurt he has been through in the past, the hell he walked through to get where he is now, and you have never admired someone more than you do him. You have never felt more willing to surrender your entire being to another person because, in return, he offered you all of him. He did not do so from the beginning; it took Matt a while, but when his facade finally cracked and he broke down at your feet, you were more than willing to catch him.

On broken knees and bloody palms, he would crawl home to you. He would walk the same path Jesus walked with the heavy cross on his back if it meant holding you one last time. And he would die for you. 

He proved that time and time again, and you had never been so scared as when you thought the love of your life would never make it back home to you. That you would never get to see his smile again or feel his arms around you. You knew then that what you two have could only be true love. 

Whenever he touches you, your world is set on fire. It’s his way of seeing you. Feeling your pulse, feeling your skin, touching your face—he wants to memorize every inch of you every day, embracing all the changes he finds along the way and loving you even more for it.

You would go anywhere he goes, even if that meant following him to the end of the earth and jumping into the abyss with him; you would do it. You would do it all if only you could stay with him forever. At times, it’s sickening how deep your love runs, and how attached you are to him, but no one has made you feel this way before him. 

He makes you feel wanted, cherished, and desired. He proves to you how amazing you are every day, and when he forgets—when he pushes you away or gets lost in his head and you have to pull him back from the edge he doesn’t fall off again, he repents for what he believes to be the greatest sin he could ever commit, which is hurting you. Breaking your heart. But you have not left him, and you do not plan on doing so. Ever. You told him as much.

Matt Murdock is as endlessly devoted to you as you are to him.

You get to his vulnerable—his shattered—side in different ways on different days. Sometimes, he needs to cry, and sometimes he just needs to be mean. He needs to be mean, and he needs to beat someone up, but there come days when beating up someone else isn’t enough, and he takes it out on himself. Those days are the worst. 

He’s not infallible, and he’s not perfect, but you can’t stand to see him hurting. He doesn’t deserve it, no matter how badly he insists that he does. 

You can tell that he just wants to scream sometimes. You fight, you argue, but never when he’s feeling his worst. When he’s feeling his worst, Matt bottles it up. He bottles it up to the point he beats his fists bloody at Fogwell's Gym, needing you to patch him up after. He doesn’t even cry when you kiss his knuckles. He doesn’t cry when he accidentally opens them back up and it burns so badly, his cheeks turn red from the sheer agony.

Sometimes, we all need to cry, but Matt hates doing it in front of you. He hates taking it out on you. And he would rather blame and hurt himself than drag you down with him, which is something that you wish you could take away from him, but you never know how. All you can do is react when he finally spreads himself open for you. All you can do is hold him when he lets you, but more often than not, that is more than enough for this broken man you feel honored to be able to call yours. Only yours.

You’re standing in the doorway to his bedroom, wearing nothing but his shirt. The fabric carries his scent, mixing with yours on your bare skin.

It’s not a sexual thing. Not tonight. Not most nights, either. You wear his clothes and use his shampoo because you know how sensitive he is, and whenever you’re with him, you want him to be comfortable. When you smell like the both of you instead of the world outside of the four walls of his home, he can melt into you. No distractions, no limits, just the two of you, together.

Matt walks through the front door, dropping his bag by the door and his keys in the bowl. He tears the glasses off his face, having left indentations on the bridge of his nose from how long he had been wearing them all day. He has a black eye, and without his glasses, he fears that their clients at Nelson, Murdock, and Page might feel discouraged to come to them if they saw him purple and bruised.

You understand where he’s coming from, but he’s suffering. You want nothing more than to ease that suffering. To be good to him. For him. With him.

You look at him and you see a beautiful vase. A vase that was dropped on expensive marble floors and shattered into a million tiny pieces. Now, someone has to glue those pieces back together because the vase is too precious to let go to waste. You see a man who has been wearing a mask all day, every day, and all night, too—an invisible one that has nothing to do with the physical battles he fights for Hell’s Kitchen after the sun sets.

Matt feels like he is losing all control. Your concern only adds to his mental load. You try to hide it, but he is a bloodhound. He can smell, hear, and feel everything. Every little change in your behavior gets noticed, and you can’t hide how you feel about him.

The grabby hands of the outside world refuse to let him go. He can’t tune it out. It’s written all over your face. And you feel so utterly helpless, you could cry. You want to cry for him.

You exhale a soft sigh when he approaches you. “Matt,” you murmur. 

He sniffs. His eyes glisten in the soft yellow luminance of the Billboard outside, projecting a tragic beauty onto your beaten hero. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answers, his voice cracking halfway through one simple word. 

“So, everything?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” Matt nods, “Every-fucking-thing.”

His invisible mask falls to the ground, and with it, his defenses crumble. 

“I, uh…I can’t–” He steps in front of you, and his bottom lip quivers with the weight of a thousand different emotions that flicker like a burnt-out candle. “I can’t do this alone anymore,” he says. 

Your heart breaks. He’s towering over you, yet all he wants is to fall into you. You have to catch him before it’s too late. 

A tear rolls down his cheek. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t...I can’t take another step.”

“You’re not alone,” you whisper. “And you don’t have to–you don’t have to take another step if you don’t want to. You can take a break. You can breathe. It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

Matt falls into your open arms. You close them around him instantly, chest-to-chest, heart-to-heart. His sobs reverberate in your ear, and the salt of your tears mingles with his on the skin above your collarbone. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair and ball into a tight fist. You can’t let him go. He would fall apart if you did. “You’re gonna be okay,” your voice remains barely above a whisper. The cadence resembles a soft wave of vibrations that shake him to his very core. “You hear me?” you say. “You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

He grunts. 

“You always think that you have to function, but you don’t. The city may need you, but you need yourself even more. You can take a step back.”

The muscles in your shoulders protest when he digs his fingers in with such force that it almost makes your knees buckle. This is the storm he so often keeps from you because he’s afraid it might hurt you, but you can weather it. You can weather it for and with him. The pain is worth it if it means that he gets what he needs. If he needs to cling to you like a lifeline, you will stand still and bear it. Your love for him knows no bounds. 

Feeling you flinch, Matt’s grip on you loosens. You’re not having any of it. You pull him closer by the waist, and you say, “If you need to be mean, be mean to me.”

“Stop it,” his words resemble a strangled groan. 

“No. Let it out.” You sound so earnest, the truth becomes hard to miss. “I can take it.”

“Please.”

You shush him. He’s crushing you under his weight, but that is exactly what you wanted. Your arms are his shelter, his solace, and everything he needs to survive. 

The tsunami of emotions wrecks him, and he cries like he has never cried before. Through all of it, you are his unwavering pillar of calm. His lifeline. The one thing that remains consistent, and the only thing he can always count on. 

He’s so soft. The world doesn’t deserve him, and you will spend the rest of your life trying to protect his heart with your own.

Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan

[solarsmash]

For you will stay a while longer

Mechanic!reader and Boothill

NO SMUT, comfort, self harm, more so an outlet to let out my own things, fluff to angst(?) at the end, father/daughter relationship, Boothill sees you as a second daughter, implied parental abuse, not proofread

Song —*⁠.⁠✧ 'please help me' by d2s1

It was a tough night—to say the least..

Relapse was common and afterwards you never really thought about it.. doesn't mean it wasn't there and that the sting didn't annoy you.. but your biggest concern was an appointment with the galaxy ranger Boothill, you were supposed to do some basic check ups and possibly just chat as good friends so now you had to hide any sliver of pain because trust, he will notice.

It was kinda stupid to think you could pull off hiding anything from him, almost as soon as you rubbed your arm a little too much, or refused to look him in the eyes he knew something was up. "Sugar, mind telling me what's wrong?" He glances at you while you are looking through some tools.

"..its nothing. I just didnt get much sleep last night-"

"Now don't lie to me, you know i hate it when you keep things from me.." he wasn't mad, more concerned than anything. Boothill knew to be patient with you, you had been through a lot, just like him, and you had odd ways of showing or hiding it.

You glance at him, wanting to just let it all out but that wasn't how you were raised.. you were never the type to let everything out even if someone offered a shoulder.. it wasn't seen as venting or a healthy outlet when you grew up, crying and talking about your issues was seen as attention seeking—playing the victim, if you will.

Boothill could see your hesitation and walked over, " I won't push you, but i want you to know I'm here for yah'." He wrapped an arm around you but when his hand held your upper arm and you flinched in what seemed like pain. It's almost as if he knew immediately, don't ask him how.. maybe it was parental instincts kicking in, a part of him saw you as the child he never got to see grow up, so his protective instinct sprung up a red flag and he turned you around so you would look at him.

"lift up your sleeve for me."

"p-pardon—?" You tried acting confused but the Galaxy Ranger was sharp and he already knew, he just hoped you would trust him enough to tell him and lay your burdens on him..

"Don't play dumb, Sugar.." He grabbed your wrist surprisingly lightly and it took everything in you to not flinch and swat him away.. to say you were scared was an understatement, after all the last time anyone other than Boothill had seen your own self inflicted wounds was your parents.. and it didn't end well.

"Can i?" Boothill asked with a softness only heard with you and close friends. He lifted your sleeve and saw the badly taken care of gashes on your arm from whatever you used along with the other scars he was already aware of, "oh baby... C'mere.." He gave you a hug, being mindful of your arm.

Whenever Boothill hugged you or made you feel safe, it never felt out of pity or like he was doing it cause he felt he HAD to.. he made you feel safe without any strings attached, something THEY never did.. something it seemed THEY avoided...

He finished wrapping your arm as you stared off into nothing.. "m'sorry..."

"Don't apologize, Baby.." He said as his gaze softened. He sat next to you and put his arm around your shoulder once again, this time his metal hand rested on your head, rubbing his thumb in circles, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

You just shook your head, tears filling your eyes for 'no reason'.. the amount of emotions building up just had to come out, after all you cant keep filling a bottle and acting like it wont overflow.

He laid his chin on your head and snuggled you closely, "its alright, m'here for yah, you can cry as much as you want."

...

And just like that tears overflowed, pouring down your cheeks as you leaned into him.. it's as if the pain from hurting yourself only just hit, he made you feel human, as dumb as it sounded.. He understood you like no other in the galaxy..

"It's alright kiddo, i gotcha'... I'm here..." He murmured as you sobbed into his chest.. the feeling of being comforted was foreign to you, unknown and now that you felt it with him it's like you never wanted it to end.. "Why aren't you mad...!?" You stammered through sniffles, barely able to say a sentence without stuttering..

"Why would i ever be mad at you for something like this..?" He gazed down, he already had a feeling something was wrong with your childhood, not in a rude way but.. the vibe you gave off just doesn't come from people who had fulfilled childhoods.. Boothill just never knew the full extent of what happened to you but he wouldn't pry.

"They always got mad— i- i thought— that if you found out- that you wouldn't care- or- or you would hit me—" When you were younger it was normal, it wasnt 'child abuse'(it was), you were just a problem child- thats why... Right?

if Boothill could cry he would be, he cant understand how people can beat their kids or treat them in such ways, he lost his only daughter and feels hatred for those who take their kids for granted. "No- no.... Sugar i would never hit you.. Whatever they told you was stupid.. it was a fudgin' lie.. You shouldn't have to feel like a burden for feeling hurt.. you deserve to be heard as much as everybody else.." He held you closer, tighter, but made sure not to hurt you.

"I didnt back then though— n-not now either—" Boothill cut you off.

"I don't want you sayin' things like that.. no matter what you did to think you didn't deserve to be comforted, it doesn't justify leaving you to help yourself.. you are worth so much, kid.. so fudgin' much.." he spoke softly, cracks in his voice like he would cry.. even if he couldnt.

After awhile you had fallen asleep, it was alright, the check up could wait.

The sounds of your soft snoozing was better than your tears, he hated seeing you cry and he would do anything to make you feel better and hurt anyone if someone was the cause.

He smiled as he glanced down at you, he wondered if his own daughter would have liked you.. though she was extremely young, he couldn't help but imagine if maybe, just maybe, the three if you could be happy together in a different universe.

[gavisimmaculaterizz]

It was evening and y/n was in the bath doing skincare routine, but then she started crying because she started getting acne. She didn’t want to show it to Hector, but he did find out and he started supporting her and explaining that she was the most beautiful girl

Sorry for my English, is not my native language 🤪🤪

— beautiful girl / hector fort.

summary: you’re having troubles with your skin, but hector tells you he loves you no matter what.

warnings: mentions of breaking out (acne), some negative thoughts

masterlist

university has been eating at you, not being able to care for yourself properly. school work on top of school work, test on top of test, you never got enough rest. you always hated yourself for not being able to care for yourself when uni got that bad.

you were such an organized person, always doing your skincare, and as of now, even the smallest parts of your daily routine were far gone.

to say the least, you were a mess.

your boyfriend héctor always offered to do your skincare, being fond of your perfectionist routine. but you always denied, telling him that it wasn’t his problem, and that he shouldn’t have to worry.

————————————————————————

as you finally had a day of rest, you decided to take matters into your own hands, and finally fix yourself up. you did your nails, had your everything shower, and put on nice pajamas.

the evening was nice and calm in barcelona , and that set you in a better mood to continue in with your routine.

but as you started on your skincare, you noticed red dots on your skin. as you got closer and closer to your bathroom mirror, there it was. something you never expected..

acne..

it never occurred to you to check in the mirror before you went to uni, because of how busy you were, but now looking at yourself, you were deeply regretting not checking once in the mirror.

you rarely had problems with acne, your skincare routine always provided a good protection against acne. but since you haven’t been able to take care of yourself, there you were, having to deal with problems on your skin.

it could’ve been hormonal changes you were going through, but you couldn’t find why you broke out. but there you were..

you couldn’t help but start to tear up, thoughts racing through your head.

“how come i never noticed?”, you whispered to yourself. tears began streaming down your face, not being able to control your emotions anymore.

as your emotions began to take over, your mind went wandering..

‘why does my boyfriend even like me?’ ‘am i even good enough for him?’ ‘why did i not take care of myself properly?’

as you were so in your head, you never noticed the bathroom door opening.

héctor had just came back from an outing with his teammates. when he came back home, he heard soft sobs heard from your shared room, and he decided to investigate.

when he opened the door to your shared bathroom, he noticed you crying. confused as he was, he decided to walk quietly to you, trying to figure out why you were crying.

he noticed you rubbing at your skin, saying something he couldn’t comprehend, but that’s when it hit him.

you were crying because you broke out.

he felt sad that you weren’t able to properly take care of yourself, and deep down he knew you were blaming yourself for having university overload you with stress.

he quietly hugged you, which quickly got you out of your thoughts.

while there were no words exchanged, the only thing heard were quiet sobs from you.

as minutes passed by, you spoke up.

“dime la verdad héctor, me quieres así de fea?”, you said, clearly emotional. (tell me the truth hector, you love me this ugly)

“como crees que no te amo!! i love you the way you are baby.. why do you think that?”, hector said, voice lingering with sadness and confusion. (why do you think that i don’t love you)

“don’t you see my skin amor! how do you love someone like me, who’s skin looks terrible..?”, you said quietly, voice cracking at the end.

“i love you with or without acne amor,” hector started.

“you need to understand that this happens to people. you’re the most gorgeous person i’ve ever laid my eyes upon! te quiero sin o con maquillaje, sin o con problemas de piel.” héctor said softly. (i love you with or without makeup, with or without skin problems)

his words calmed you down. you thought you weren’t enough for him. he was a gorgeous man, with great skin, not a single problem with his skin.

you felt insecure with those pimples, although it would be gone, you still felt a bit insecure.

he noticed your face and decided to reassure more..

“you know amor, you’re the most beautiful girl ever.. i love you no matter what.”, your boyfriend said.

he ended it with a kiss.. problems soon faded away.

you were his beautiful girl and he loved you no matter what.

a/n: first héctor fic! ngl i didn’t know how to even start it so if it seems weird pls forgive me! also mind my shitty writing for dear life.. please send requests if you have some🤍