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theladyofdeath · 3 years

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Life As We Know It {Chapter 12}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby's blogs! >> @snelbz

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

* In case you missed the announcement - we will now be posting chapters 3 days a week! Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. We hope you continue to enjoy the story!

** Trigger warning: Miscarriage.

This chapter is legit a roller coaster, ngl. Enjoy. ;)

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Nesta stood in the living room of Elain’s house with Nyx on her hip, feeling guilty for dropping Nyx off for the night even though Elain was the one to offer.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Gives these little cousins some bonding time.” She reached out and took Nyx’s chubby little hand. “Besides, you and Cassian both need time to recoup.”

She wasn’t about to deny that. It had been a week since her not-date with Balthazar, a week since she and Cassian had uttered more than passing comments on how Nyx had acted throughout the day to each other.

Every time she looked at him, she found him already watching her and the fact got under her skin.

It became an unspoken thing that whenever she cooked dinner, she would make an extra helping and put it in the fridge for him. Not because she felt like she needed to, but because it made her feel better about their awkward arrangement. The longer time went on, the more she realized that as much as she’d been acting like taking care of Nyx together was a death sentence to her social life, he was going through the same thing.

And when she got home, she planned on making dinner for the two of them to share together. A sort of white flag of truce between them.

It was the least she could do. “Call me the second something happens-.”

“We’ll be fine,” Elain said, taking Nyx from Nesta and kissing her sister’s cheek. “Now, go. Relax. Take a bubble bath with some wine or something. Read one of those filthy books you used to hide in your closet.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed.

Elain’s smile widened.

After a tough goodbye, Nesta was heading toward her car and driving back home, making a quick stop at the grocery store just around the corner.

She quickly got all of her fixins, prepared to make one of her favorites - salmon, rice, and green beans. A glance at the calendar that morning told her he would probably be home around five, which gave her just under two hours to make dinner. Easily doable, she’d made three-course meals in less time, for much harsher customers.

Yet she couldn’t figure out why her stomach was in knots.

When Cassian came home, he opened the front door and froze. The quiet in the house unnerved him. Usually, there was some random white noise to fill the house, whether that was the television or one of Nyx’s inane toys that distracted him so well. But as he walked through the house, the TV wasn’t on and he couldn’t hear much of anything.

Until he heard a throat clear from the kitchen.

Instantly, Cassian was on alert, not liking the sound at all, recognizing who it had belonged to, but silently, he made his way into the kitchen.

Nesta was sitting at the table, a plate of food in front of her, with an identical one at the spot he typically sat in.

“What’s…going on?” He asked, slowly taking another few steps into the kitchen.

Nesta stood and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, before taking it back over to where he hovered between the table and the doorway. She held the cold bottle out to him. “This is a truce.”

“A tru-?” He took it, but shook his head, not quite understanding her. “Where’s Nyx?”

“He is having a sleepover with Seph, Elain and Azriel. Elain wanted us to have a night off,” she said, sitting back down at her seat. “So I made us dinner.”

“You made us dinner?” he repeated, staring at the plates. “For the two of us to have? Together? At the same table?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, unless you don’t want it.”

Cassian cleared his throat as he pulled the chair out across from her and popped open his beer. “I won’t turn down free food. Especially when it’s made by an expert.”

Nesta said nothing more as she cut into her salmon. “An expert?”

“You get paid for cooking,” Cassian said, picking up his fork and collecting a pile of green beans. “That makes you an expert. A professional.”

“This is a lot of compliments,” she said, watching him carefully as he ate.

“Maybe I’m jumping on board with this whole truce thing,” he said, mouth full of food.

Nesta wanted to chastise him about his manners, but bit her tongue. “You weren’t on board with it to begin with?”

He chewed slowly and then set his fork down. “Neither of us have…handled this very well,” he admitted, taking a drink from his beer. “And I’m willing to take a portion of the blame, but not all of it.”

Nesta weighed his words carefully. They were blunt, but not untrue. Sure, he’d acted like an ass many times, but she had only responded in kind. She knew she could be a bitch, and she knew she did it well. Sometimes too well.

“For this to be an official truce,” she began, holding her wine glass in her hand, swirling it once, twice, “there has to be terms we both agree on.” His eyebrows raised, but she pressed on before he could speak. “Mine are that we have to communicate. When you get frustrated or pissed at me, you can’t just bottle everything up until it all explodes. And when I get overwhelmed, I promise not to snap at you or act like such a…”

“A bitch?” He provided, when she stumbled over her words, smiling around the beer bottle pressed to his lips.

She wasn’t able to stop the smile growing on her own face, as she said, “Thank you, asshole. But yes. Those are my terms.”

He took a drink and nodded. “Okay. I think I can handle those.”

“And what are your terms?” She asked, cutting into the flaky fish for another bite.

He was quiet for a moment, debating. Nesta took a sip from her wine glass while she waited, watching as thought after thought passed across his face.

“I want to get to know you,” he said, finally. “I want to know who you are and I want you to know me.”

Nesta cocked her head to the side. It was a simple request, but Nesta wasn’t exactly good at allowing people to get to know rher. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

“A simple conversation will do,” he said, shrugging. “Over salmon and alcohol. Mostly alcohol.” He reached across the small table and picked up her wine bottle, filling up her wine glass to the brim.

“Getting me drunk so that I open up?” Nesta asked, sipping from that wine glass.

Cassian chuckled. “I would never.”

She watched her for a second, before taking another larger drink and setting it down. “Fine. Then it’s a truce.” He smirked, glancing over the table between them and then leaned over to look on the counter. “What?”

“I’m just looking for an official notice.” His smirk grew into an all out grin. “Something to sign. I figured you’d called up Tarquin and had some official documents written up.”

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolled her eyes and he chuckled, reaching an open hand across the table.

“Truce,” he said, taking her hand in his. They shook once, and Cassian was struck by how much smaller her hand was than his, yet by how firm her grip was. It was an impressive, professional handshake.

“So what do you want to know?” She asked, scooping some rice onto her fork and getting a bite of fish to go along with it.

His eyes narrowed as he thought about it and she began to wonder whether they should have laid down some boundaries. But he asked, “You went to the University of Velaris, right? What did you study there?”

Nesta blinked in surprise, not having expected the question. “Business and marketing.”

Chewing slowly, Cassian raised an eyebrow. “Nothing culinary?”

She shook her head. “No, I liked cooking, but I never thought it would become my career. I majored in business and marketing, with a minor in communications.”

“That sounds…” He fought for the words for a second. “Boring.”

Taking a drink of her wine, Nesta chuckled. “Oh, it was,” she admitted. “The longest four years of my life, but I’ve got the pretty, little diploma with my name written on it to show for them.”

“And how did you learn about food? How to cook?”

She shrugged. “I taught myself. I graduated college and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I got a data entry job at a marketing firm and spent my free time in the kitchen, trying and testing and tasting.” She paused, and her eyes fell to her plate. “Before my dad died, he listened to my idea about starting a small restaurant, with a few of my favorite recipes on the menu. He left me the money to do it in his will.”

“And now?” he pressed, although his voice held a certain gentleness. “Are you successful and thriving?”

Nesta snorted. “I make enough to live and pay the few of servers I have. If that’s successful, then I suppose.”

Cassian nodded in appreciation. “I’d say it is. What about the future? Bigger restaurant? Multiple restaurants?”

“Someday,” Nesta said, with a longing in her voice. “And what about you? And your guitars? Surely you don’t want to be a bartender forever.”

Cassian shrugged. “I don’t mind the bartending. Good tips and I meet a lot of interesting people.”

“But?” Nesta asked.

“But,” Cassian repeated, huffing a laugh. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t exactly say that managing a bar is my passion.”

“So, guitars then?” Nesta asked, brow raised. “You’re really talented. Your guitars are beautiful.”

Cassian’s eyes shot to hers, wide as he slowly set down his fork. “Holy shit, did you just compliment me?”

Nesta’s lips pursed as she kicked his shin under the table.

“I’ve always been good with my hands. Not like that,” he said, pointing at her when he saw the smirk growing. “I mean, creating things, playing instruments, even something as mundane as making drinks. If it’s something I can do with my hands, I typically love it and nine times out of ten, I’m good at it.” There was none of the cockiness she’d come to know in his voice. Just pure explanation, and a bit of devotion. “I’ve tried my hand at making furniture and little knickknacks, but there’s nothing that compares to building an instrument from scratch.”

“And you do it all? Yourself?” She asked, taking another bite.

He nodded. “I start with a few rough pieces of wood. Sand it, stain it, and boom, brand new guitar.”

Snorting, she lifted her wine glass to her lips. “I think you may have missed a few steps in there.”

“Well, I didn’t want to bore you,” he chuckled.

“How long have you been playing guitar?” Nesta asked, finishing off the last of her food.

Cassian took a minute to think about it, then shrugged, finishing off his beer. “As long as I can remember. I grew up with my mom in Illyria. They live simply up there. Music is…a way of life. It grew on me quickly. Mom bought me my first guitar that a friend of hers had made before I could even walk.”

Nesta chuckled, quietly. “Just like you did for Nyx.”

Cassian nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Another drink?” he asked, nodding toward her emptied glass.

“Sure,” she said. “But, wine is gone. I think there’s some tequila in the cabinet.”

Cassian lifted a brow as he rose. “Tequila?”

Nesta grinned as he went to the cabinet. “Make me a drink, bartender?”

Cassian laughed as he grabbed the glass bottle from the cabinet. “I can. What’ll it be? Tequila sunrise? Margarita? Pretty sure we have some lime juice, somewhere.”

“I’m not picky,” Nesta promised.

She heard him laugh. “Somehow, I have a hard time believing that, Archeron.”

“Only where it counts,” she replied, smiling at him. She picked up their empty plates and rinsed them off, loading them into the dishwasher. Turning, she found him setting a shot glass with salt on the rim down on the counter. She chuckled. “That’s not what I asked for.”

“First of all, you technically didn’t ask for anything in particular,” he said, pointing at her as he crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Secondly, this is the most classic drink I can make you with tequila. It’s the oldest recipe in the books.”

She outright laughed. “That’s cause it’s just straight tequila.”

“Exactly,” he grinned and damn it, if her heart didn’t skip a beat. “I lied, no lime juice.”

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “But if I’m doing sloppy shots, you’re joining me.”

“Oh, I never say no to shots,” he said, grabbing another from the cabinet.

He filled them up, and slid one to Nesta, who took the glass in her hand and held it up.

Cassian clinked his against hers, and they tossed them back.

Nesta’s face didn’t change a bit, and Cassian met her steady eyes. “Impressive.”

“Not my first tequila shot, Nazari,” she said, hopping up to sit on the counter. “What else do you want to ask me?”

He leaned down on the countertop, letting his arms lay flat. “Hmm.” He let his fingers drum quietly. “What did you want to be when you grew up? Or was it always a chef?”

She scrunched up her nose. “I was convinced I was going to be a doctor, I wanted to help people. But then I found out how many years of school was required to be a doctor. So I decided I wanted to be a nurse.”

Cassian carefully poured a couple more shots. “And what happened to that dream?”

“I found out that the sight of blood makes me queasy. Sometimes I throw up, sometimes I pass out.”

He laughed. “That seems like enough to throw off a career plan.”

“Yep,” she admitted, picking her wine glass up.

Cassian filled up the shot glasses, once more, and slid hers back to her. She set down her wine glass and snorted as she tossed it back.

“You know what we should do?” Nesta asked, and Cassian lifted a brow in question. “Go for a swim. We’ve been here over a month and have yet to use the pool that I’ve been cleaning, daily.”

Cassian took his shot before watching her, closely. “Last one in has to share their deepest, darkest secret.”

Nesta scoffed. “What are we, children?”

Cassian grinned as he pushed himself back from the counter. “Scared of a little competition? Afraid to lose?”

They stared at each other in silence for a minute before Nesta jumped off the counter, and ran up the stairs to throw on her swimsuit.

Cassian and his heavy footsteps were close behind.

It took her a few minutes to remember where her swimsuits had been packed, and from the slamming of drawers down the hall, it seemed Cassian was in a similar predicament. She finally found a two piece stuffed in the back of her underwear drawer, not exactly what she had been looking for, and hesitated before stripping down and pulling the bottoms on. Nesta was out her bedroom door before she even had the top fully tied, pulling it into a hastily tied bow behind her back. Her feet carried her as she flew down the stairs, but she froze when she opened the sliding glass door and found him already in the water.

He grinned from where he had his muscular arms resting on the side of the pool, and his hair was soaked, pushed back off of his face. With the wide smile on his face, he looked so much younger, almost boyish.

With a sigh, Nesta turned and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers in each hand and made her way back onto the lit up patio.

“I win,” he said, smirking up at her.

The tongue she stuck out at him wasn’t her most quick witted response, but she was trying not to let her eyes drift beneath the water. When she suggested the pool, she hadn’t been thinking of how much skin would be on display, for either of them.

“That’s because you only had one piece to put on,” Nesta said, sitting near him by the edge and handing him a drink.

“Hey, if you only wanted to put on one of those pieces, I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he protested, and Nesta had to hide the way his suggestive tone, those words, made her blush.

He didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he popped open his beer and took a long, slow drink.

“So how about that secret?” He asked, voice lowering.

“Hmmm,” she crooned, tapping her chin. “Which to share when I have so many to choose from?”

Cassian chuckled. “You would have an endless string of secrets. Come on, what skeletons are in your closet? Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

Nesta had a lot of those, too. She wasn’t exactly the “open” type.

There was one true secret she kept though. One that no one else had known, not even Feyre or Elain. Just her and…

She hesitated and he looked up at her, caught the look on her face. “What?”

Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t want to kill the mood.”

The hand holding the bottle was right next to her thigh, and he let his pinky skim over her skin. “That kind of secret, huh?”

She gnawed into her lip, nodding.

“I’ll tell you mine, if it helps,” Cassian said, looking up into her face.

She slipped into the pool, thankful the water was warm, and shook her head. “That wasn’t our agreement.”

He stayed quiet, letting her process her own thoughts.

Sinking beneath the water, Nesta re-emerged, slicking her hair back. After a steadying breath, she said, “I’m sure you remember Tomas, my ex who interrupted our date?”

The mention of their date surprised Cassian, after so many weeks of them dancing around it. He nodded.

“We were together for a long time, you know? All through college.” She wasn’t looking at him, wouldn’t meet his eye. “I got pregnant just after our senior year. I had never wanted kids, you know? Wasn't the family type, at all. Never saw myself having a family. Anyway,” she continued, shaking her head. “It didn’t matter. I miscarried.”

Cassian continued to look at her, continued to watch as she stared blankly ahead.

“I got excited about it, too, which is ridiculous,” she went on. “For a moment, for those few weeks that I thought Tomas and I would be starting a family… I actually got excited.”

“How far along were you?” He asked, gently.

She answered immediately, with no hesitation. “Thirteen weeks. It was like one day I was pregnant, carrying our child and the next… The baby was gone.” She was quiet for a moment. “I woke up one morning and there was blood, so much blood. Tom was already at work, so I drove myself to the hospital, but there was nothing they could do.”

Cassian recognized the slow blinking, knew she was reliving those slow, sad moments again.

“I was dying inside, trying to come to terms with the fact that our baby was gone, and Tomas got home and-.” She took a deep breath and looked over at him. “He asked what I was making for dinner. He didn’t even acknowledge that our child was gone and… l guess that’s when I decided to do the same. To pretend nothing happened. We didn’t really talk much about it. We never told our families, I never told Feyre or Elain. Our father died about a month later and it all seemed so insignificant at that point. But Tom and I never recovered, our relationship at least. We broke up a few months later and…” Nesta shrugged. “Life kept going. I decided to open my restaurant and never looked back.”

“I’m sorry,” Cassian said, quietly.

She finally looked at him and shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it any less painful of a memory,” he countered.

She just nodded. “It’s how it was supposed to be though, right? Wasn't meant to be.”

Cassian took another drink as he nodded, slowly.

“Anyway,” she began, clearing her throat before dunking herself back down under the water.

“Would you like my secret?” He asked, when she turned and rested her arms on the edge of the pool.

She shrugged. “If you feel so inclined. You didn’t lose the bet.”

He leaned back, letting his arms drape across the edge of the pool as well. “When I was eighteen, I broke my back. I decided to take a year off before I started school, and was working construction over the summer to save money. I wanted to travel for a while. But then I took a bad fall off a roof. I spent two weeks in the hospital and then was stuck in my bed for another ten. And Rhys and Az stayed by my side the whole time. They put off their last hoorah vacations before they went off to college to stay with me.”

Nesta’s eyes drifted to Cassian, drops falling from her lashes. “Doesn’t seem like a secret if people know about it.”

“You didn’t know,” he shot back.

Nesta smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fair. That sounds awful.”

“It was,” he agreed. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I don’t like to stay still for very long.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Nesta said, a little spark returning to her eye. “It was torture,” he followed, finishing off his drink. “Not being able to move. I played so many damn board games that I never want to look at one ever again.”

“Even if Nyx asks?” Nesta inquired.

Cassian gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, he’s the exception.” Nesta laughed, and Cassian shook his head. “I’d do anything for that kid. I think Rhys knew that, when he named me godfather.”

She understood that, related to it completely. Especially considering they had been named godparents together, regardless of their mutual distaste for the other. Their love for Nyx, for Rhys and Feyre, had been evident to everyone.

“I miss him,” she admitted, resting her cheek on the concrete. “I know it’s only one night, and I’m beyond appreciative, but… It’s weird not having him right inside.”

He nodded. “I get it. I do, too. I know Az and Elain can take care of him, and I’m sure he had a blast with Seph before they went to bed, but it hasn’t stopped me worrying about him.”

Nesta nodded, stretching her back. She took a drink from her beer. “Did you ever want kids of your own?”

He blew out a harsh breath and drained his own bottle before answering. “I never really considered it much, when I was younger. After my back healed, I was so focused on getting back to life that relationships and dating weren’t high on my priority list-.”

“But fucking was?” Nesta asked, smirking.

He rolled his eyes, nudging her slightly with a shoulder. “Maybe I was interested in sex more than relationships, I’ll admit. But before I knew it, my early twenties had come and gone. Everyone I knew was getting married and had babies on the way and… I was still the one living the bachelor life and decided to just run with it.”

“I get that,” Nesta agreed. “After…everything that happened with Tomas, I never wanted that again. My date with you and my date with Balthazar are the only two proper dates I’ve been on since college.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “And have you been on any improper dates?”

Nesta didn’t answer. Instead, her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she finished off her beer.

Cassian’s grin widened. “I never knew you were such a freak, Archeron.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she muttered, which just made him laugh harder.

“I must admit, it’s nice to hear you talking about our infamous date so often tonight,” Cassian said, pulling himself out of the pool.

Nesta couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles flexed, how the drops of water streamed down his back, between his shoulders, down to his waistline and the swim trunks, which rode low on his hips. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t say anything nice about that date, did I?”

“Absolutely not, but is there really anything nice to say?” he asked, sliding the screen door open. “I mean, you were an absolute nightmare.”

She gawked after him as he went inside, and once he came back with a small pyramid of beer cans, Nesta said, “I was a nightmare? You were a complete disaster!”

He scoffed, setting the cans down and cannon balling back into the pool. Even though she was already in the water, Nesta couldn’t help the squeal that left her. Cassian was grinning when he came up for air. “I forgot my wallet. I fully intended to pay you back, both monetarily and with the best sex you’d ever had in your life, but you decided to get huffy, stomp back to your front door and slam it in my face.”

“Oh, please,” Nesta said, reaching for a can and popping it’s top. Foam erupted from the opening and she put her mouth to it before it could drip into the pool. “You were over twenty minutes late, you wore work boots and a leather jacket to the nicest restaurant in Velaris, and we ran into your fuck buddy.” She drank deeply from the can, emptying it in one go. “As for the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, I’ve become very accustomed to and am just fine with my own hand, so you’re going to have to try pretty hard to do better than I myself can.”

She wiggled her fingers in his face and before she could register what was happening, his hand was wrapped around her own. As if he didn’t already know that. Cassian had caught her getting herself off in the bathtub, a memory that was seared into both of their heads. He tugged her closer and the empty can fell from her hands, floating on top of the water.

“I was talking about the past, sweetheart, but you seem to be talking about the present,” he breathed as her chest brushed against his own. “Who says my offer still stands all these years later?”

“You’d be a fool not to make that offer,” she breathed, and she knew the scent of beer was all he was breathing in.

“And would you accept it if I were?” he asked, one hand still wrapped around hers, the other snaking its way around her waist. “Still offering?”

Nesta’s breath hitched as their mouths grew so close, too close, close enough to reach out and taste his lips with a brush of her tongue.

It was tempting.

It would be stupid. Alcohol fogging her brain or not, Nesta knew it would be stupid.

But it was tempting, and in that moment, there were very few things Nesta could think about other than his hands against her skin, his lips a breadth width away from her own, and his cock she could very prominently feel twitching against her thigh.

Nesta’s lips brushed softly against his as she said, “Try and find out.”

#nessian #snacmc #snacmc lawki #modern au #lawki #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #acotar #acosf

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butgilinsky · 3 years

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'cause maybe then you'd want me just as much // np

warning; heavy language, toxy relationships, love triangle to an extent, throwing up, mentions alcohol a lot, mentions of smut but nothing explicit, there's one make out scene in it, angst angst angst this is straight angst, i think that's it?

summary; after your split from Nolan, you can't seem to find a way for both of you to be happy. when you meet his girlfriend for the first time, everyone seems to think you've developed a crush on her. based on the song girl crush by little big town.

word count; 15.6k+

a/n; he baddies, so this is a lot. one thing i wanted to say quickly is that this is mainly a nolan fic, but there are heavy joel x reader themes throughout. a bit of a love triangle but that's not entirely the focus of it. so if you're here for a nolan fic, here ya go. if you're here for a beezer fic, strap in it just takes a bit of time to develop to that point(: enjoy!

add yourself to my nhl taglist!

“You don’t get to have your cake and eat it too.” your eyes instinctively rolled back, the anger burning in your chest only growing at his attempt to confront this situation head on. He had a tendency of doing that, going at something full force with little to no thought of how it’ll actually end up.

“That’s a stupid saying! Why would I want the cake in the first place if I can’t eat it?”

“Can you dissect the english language another time and just listen to me for once?” the scoff that tumbled past your lips was subconscious, something you couldn’t stop yourself from. “All i’m saying is-”

“I get it, Nolan. I won’t give you the satisfaction of claiming me in front of the entire world, and now you’re walking away from me. If you can’t tell everyone that I’m yours then it means I'm not, right?” his shoulders slumped, his chest deflating as your words resonated in his mind.

Truth be told, Nolan didn’t give a shit what other people thought. He didn’t care about other people’s view of him, nor did he care about their validation. All he wanted was to be able to tell his friends where he went after each of his games, who he spent his nights and mornings with. He didn’t want to keep lying about why he bought enough groceries to feed more than one person, or who called him when he was on the road.

He understood at first, why you wanted to keep things to yourself. For a while, he agreed with you. He didn’t want your friends to get in the way either, though the group the two of you were in made that slightly difficult. They thrived off of teasing each other, and the two of you did your fair share of teasing as well. One thing Nolan didn’t want was for his friends to make the two of you feel as if this was all a mistake. He didn’t want you to have to face any scrutiny from the team or anyone else, so the two of you agreed to keep things just between the two of you.

That all turned to shit around six months in, when Nolan stopped getting excited about slipping out of his apartment unseen or arriving at the rink just in time for him to duck underneath Claude’s radar. The secrecy wasn’t fun anymore. He didn’t need a label, didn’t need you to commit to an entire life with him, but he wanted to be able to show up to functions with you under his arm. He wanted to see you wearing your Patrick jersey outside of your apartment.

He wanted you to be his girlfriend, and he wanted everyone to know about it.

Nolan knew there were things that had happened to you in the past that made you hesitant to climb aboard. He tried to be patient, tried to give you the time and space you needed to get you to where he stood. But months passed and you never got there, and he was starting to lose faith that you’d ever get there. He was starting to think he was waiting for something that was never going to come.

“I’m not sneaking around anymore. You can decide what that means, but I refuse to have these secret rendezvous where I can’t even tell people where I’m going. We don’t have to put a label on it, I’ll wait an entire lifetime if I have to for that, but I’m sick of the lying and scheming and secrecy.” he didn’t know what was more important to you at this point; being with him or making sure you kept all of your walls up. He did know what his priorities were, where he stood on the subject matter, but that wasn’t enough anymore. Now it was up to you to decide where the two of you lie.

“So what’s it going to be y/n?”

The last time you had gone through a break up, it had hurt a lot less than this. The weeks following the split between you and Nolan had been harder than any breakup in the past. Maybe the thing that was making all of it worse was the fact that you were suffering in silence. Nobody knew about you and Nolan in the first place, so nobody knew about the breakup that wasn’t actually a breakup.

You didn’t see him for two weeks after he’d walked out of your apartment. You couldn’t bring yourself to go to his games, and you denied all of the team’s invitations to go out with them. Even when Joel and Travis showed up to your apartment with several bags of take out food and tried their best to pick your brain about what had been going on with you, you fabricated a story about how school and work were mixing together in an unappetizing way.

It was easy for the most part, to blame your mood on schoolwork. Most of the flyers had no idea how stressful college could be, given that even the ones that were in your age range had never gone to college. Apart from a few of them like Joel, who had spent a year in college before being drafted, they assumed that school was everything you said it was. So any time they invited you out and tried to tell you that you couldn’t come up with any more excuses, a simple lie about a project being due soon would fend them off for a few days before repeating the process.

You finally agreed to go to a game when Joel needed a last minute ride to the rink, which ended in him convincing you that since you were already there, you could stick around for the game. You were sure that he had planned it all out, no doubt with the help of a few of the guys in order to be convincing enough, but it worked. It got you in the seats where most of them stopped by to wave at you during warm ups.

The smile that crept onto your lips when Nolan scored was subconscious. You couldn’t help but smile and clap for him, a warm familiarity swimming in your chest. Normally you’d meet him at your apartment afterwards, sharing toothy smiles and sensual kisses that never failed to turn into more. Your bed was familiar with Nolan, claiming half of itself to be side and clearing out a space on your nightstand for his phone and water bottle.

But you couldn’t do that anymore, Nolan wasn’t yours to take home anymore. While the realization was tough to bear, you simply wiped the smile off of your face and barred a neutral expression for the remainder of the game. You clamped your lips shut in a tight line and kept your deafening thoughts to yourself.

Your life had made room for him, a space for him to slide in without much effort at all. Your routine molded itself around Nolan being there in the mornings and nights. It started as little things like buying a second phone charger to plug in on his side of the bed. Then it turned to buying double the amount of groceries and recording his favorite shows on tv. Then he had a toothbrush next to yours on the bathroom counter and a bottle of body wash next to your shampoo in the shower. They were little changes here and there that somehow made it feel like Nolan practically lived there.

Even if the words were never said out loud, you and Nolan had broken up. It was hard to wrap your head around, how you could break up with someone without even realizing that you were dating in the first place. It shouldn’t have been so detrimental to lose him, to not have his hips snapping into yours or wake up to him brewing coffee in your kitchen. It was never supposed to get this far, was never supposed to be a tale of two friends that pined for each other enough to cause these waves. It was what you had done your best to avoid over its entirety, but you failed.

And now you had to pretend as if none of it had ever happened.

“Get out of the car, y/n.” you rolled your eyes at Joel’s attempt to sound stern with you, given the look he was sending you through the door frame. His eyebrows were raised and his hands sat on his hips, as if he was your angry mother that was dragging you to soccer practice on a sunday morning. “You have five seconds or I'm carrying you inside.”

“Jesus, Joel I just dropped my chapstick, chill the fuck out.” he rolled his eyes but smiled when you began climbing out of the car.

It was almost painful to convince you to come to Claude and Ryanne’s cookout, an event you normally wouldn’t miss for the world. If this were three months ago, you would’ve been happy to oblige. You’d steal glances across the yard at the boy who was more often than not already looking at you. Maybe you’d meet up in one of the empty rooms far enough from everyone else that they wouldn’t hear you sharing affirmations or other things not appropriate for a family friendly cookout with practically everyone you knew in Philly.

But you knew when you woke up this morning that that wouldn’t happen. You don’t live in the past and you’re no longer able to share stolen glances and smiles with the blue eyed boy who had stolen your heart without you realizing it. Instead you’d be forced to act as if nothing had happened between the two of you. It was easy at games, given that you never truly had to talk to Nolan, but today wouldn’t be that easy. You were certain that at some point you’d have to talk to Nolan in order to eliminate any suspicion about the two of you giving each other the cold shoulder.

You had mentally prepared yourself for the disaster you may or may not encounter, the feelings that were bound to throb in the back of your mind upon seeing the boy with shoulder length hair and a voice that never failed to send a chill down your spine. What you hadn’t been expecting was the petite blonde girl tucked into his side, the one with bright blue eyes and a smile that surely had the entire room smiling right back at her.

The weight of the situation hit you at full force, almost knocking you off of your feet before you even stepped onto the grass in the backyard. You asked yourself if there was any way you could escape, any way you could find a last minute excuse and run out the door before he even saw you but then you remembered that Joel drove you, and there was no way he’d take you back now.

That, and Nolan locked eyes with you before you could form a coherent thought that might have gotten you out of this situation. He looked thrown off, like he hadn’t been expecting you to be here. He looked down at the girl beside him, painfull aware of how this all looked to you and finding a million and one things that he assumed were running through your mind.

“You alright?” your eyes flicked up to meet Joel’s that were flooded with confusion and worry at the sight of you clearly thrown off by something. But then you coughed and shook your head, forced a smile to the surface and told Joel that you were perfectly fine.

You were fine for a while, assuming you could just stay away from them and everything would be okay. If you didn’t have to talk to her, didn’t have to hear about her or anything that had anything to do with her, you’d be fine. You could handle the avoidance of eye contact with Nolan and you could push your feelings below the surface for the time being.

Unfortunately for you, she seemed to be just about the nicest person on the planet and felt the need to introduce herself to everyone in her general vicinity. You were walking back out of the house, your fingers wrapped around the neck of four different bottles before she popped up out of nowhere and offered you a bright smile.

“Hi! You’re y/n right?” you nodded gently, pushing a soft smile to the surface to humor her. “Thought so. Nolan’s told me a lot about you. I’m Mackayla.”

Aside from the fact that she was definitely the last person you wanted to be talking to right now, she was dangerously nice. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t see the appeal. Her long blonde hair was beautiful, and you were sure by the way she was gently gripping onto her cup that she was gentle in all walks of life.

She was nicer than you’d wished she’d be. It’s as if you couldn’t find a flaw about her, other than the boy she chose to latch onto. It’d be easier if he was smiling all the same, if he was looking at her the way he used to look at you, even if nobody noticed. You’d be able to live with it if Nolan looked just as happy with her as he did with you, but he didn’t.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and his hands were always shoved into his pockets or running through his hair. His knuckles went white from his tight grip on his better bottle, and you just knew. You knew that the way he looked at her held little to no weight, not when compared to the way he’d look at you with your head on his chest or his in your lap. If you didn’t know what he looked like at 2 in the morning over a plate of waffles the two of you were sharing. If you hadn’t heard the laugh that bellowed out when you stared at him in disbelief for eating the last bite.

You wondered if she knew that he’d rather waste money on overpriced sushi than order a pizza, if she knew that rubbing his temples and scratching his scalp helped soothe his migraines. Did she know that he’d talk about the things bugging him if you just gave him space for a minute or so and let him collect his thoughts? Did she know that he kept a bottle of ibuprofen in his nightstand and one in the center console of his car?

You doubted she knew these things, because you knew Nolan was oblivious to you knowing these little things. He didn’t know you’d picked up on these small details about him because you didn’t voice them, you didn’t need to. You got his favorite coffee creamer without asking him what flavor he wanted, keeping it in your fridge at all times just in case. You made sure not to steal the black hoodie that always laid over the back of his couch, because you knew it was his favorite and if you had ever taken it he’d lose his mind.

You made sure that Nolan was taken care of, that you never acted out in a way that would negatively affect him. And as much as it hurt to stand in front of his new girl and act as if you didn’t know all of these things about him, you’d do it for him. You swallowed your pride and forced a smile so that nobody picked up on anything for Nolan’s sake.

You were doing an okay job with faking a smile and listening to Mackayla talk about the things she’d done with Nolan over the weekend. You’d learned she was from Georgia, though that much had been obvious from the southern drawl in her voice, and it only led you to wonder how she even met Nolan in the first place. Was she staying at his apartment while she was here? Did she sleep on your side of the bed and eat the granola bars that he always bought for you without a second of hesitation?

You were doing fine, until you noticed Nolan’s eyes glued to you. He was watching you, whether it was out of fear of you falling apart or stepping out of line in front of her, you weren't sure. Maybe he didn’t trust you with the girl he was trying to use to get over you, and maybe he was concerned for your well being, but you had a fairly good guess as to which one it would’ve ended up being.

So with the best excuse you could muster, you politely told Mackayla that you had to deliver the beers slotted between your fingers and ushered her back in Nolan’s direction. He tucked her under his arm just like he had when you first arrived and sent you one last careful glance before turning away from you both figurative and literally.

When you got back to Joel and dished out the beers you promised everyone, you pressed your own against your lips and downed half of the beer in one go before Joel forced you to stop.

“Woah! Try not to drink your weight tonight, yeah?” you rolled your eyes and fought back the groan that threatened to slip when Joel pulled your bottle away from you. “Breathe for a second.”

You tried to ignore Travis and Karly’s concerned looks, confusion setting in for both of them when you offered a smile in place of an explanation. They didn’t question it, knowing better than to dig too far into the reason for your actions. In an attempt to take the focus off of your odd behavior, Travis offered a change of conversation. Though it would’ve been better if he had chosen a topic that didn’t directly relate to your sour mood.

“So Mackayla’s pretty nice.” Karly hummed, eyes locking with yours for just a second. Her motive was innocent, simply offering a skepticism about a new girl being introduced into the mix, something the two of you usually had when any of the guys started dating someone new.

“She’s pretty.” you shrugged gently, attempting to offer an innocent enough addition to the conversation that wouldn’t force you to endure too much more of this conversation.

Joel gasped gently, eyes panning down to you while a smirk creeped up his lips and firmly planted itself on his face. “Do you have the hots for Patty’s girl?”

Your eyes blew wide and while the only thing running through your mind was how wrong Joel is, he mistook your shock for fear of being sniffed out so easily. It didn’t help that Joel had been your wingman on more than one occasion, always doing everything he could to snag you someone worthy of time.

“Bee-”

“You’re so into her!” you groaned at Travis bouncing in excitement, only calming down when his girlfriend dug her elbow into his ribs.

“I do not have a crush on Mackayla.”

“Who said anything about a crush?” Joel’s smile ignited a fire inside of your chest, an aggravation that had you clenching your jaw and rolling your eyes. He sucked his teeth and pressed a hand to his chest, a far off look settling in his expression. “My baby’s growing up.”

“Shut the fuck up, Farabee.”

Unfortunately, you were unable to convince Travis and Joel about your feelings towards the girl, or lack thereof. You couldn’t exactly tell them that you weren’t anything less than envious of her, that you kept looking in her direction because she seemed physically incapable of leaving Nolan’s side. You couldn’t tell them that you were truly looking at Nolan, that all you wanted to do was tell him that everything that’s happened was severely miscalculated on your part.

While Joel and Travis were painful at times, they were your best friends. They were attentive to your feelings more often than not, even if they miscalculated them here and there. Joel slipped you a few more drinks throughout the night and Travis made sure you never had an empty cup in your hand. Karly kept a close eye on you, worried about you quickly tipping over the edge if no one paid attention. She wasn’t convinced by the story of your crush on Mackayla, but she wasn’t sure what was truly bothering you so she did her best to make sure you stayed away from the ledge.

After two cups of the punch that Jake brought you were taking deep breaths in the bathroom, mustering up the courage to go back out and face the music. With every twinge of alcohol that infiltrated your system your shoulders slumped and you forgot about the pain that resonated in the back of your mind. It was easier to not look at Nolan every few seconds when you partially forgot that he was even there.

However, just as you opened the door to step back out into the house, the door was pushed wide open and Nolan stepped into the small space with you before shutting the door behind him. You were caught off guard, not having been this close to him since he walked out three months ago. It was almost nice, you almost let yourself slip a smile but then you were painfully aware of the way his forehead creased in frustration.

He saw your mind go over ninety different thoughts, your face showing off just about every emotion you were feeling when you felt it. It was hard for him to stand his ground, to not reach out to you and press a soft kiss against your forehead at the sight of you stressed out about something. But then he remembered why you were stressed, why he came up here in the first place. He remembered how you told him you couldn’t be with him, how you broke his heart.

“Why are you in here, Pat?” he flinched at the name, having not heard you call him that since before everything had unfolded between the two of you. You never called him by his last name, nor his hockey nicknames. Not after you’d been trapped between him and his mattress far more times than you could count.

“You talked to Mackayla earlier.” you hummed, rolling your eyes when you realized what was coming.

“So you saw me talking to your girlfriend earlier and now you’re wondering if I told her something she’s not supposed to know. If you’re wondering what we talked about then you can ask her, because I honestly couldn’t remember if my life depended on it. I stopped listening to her after she told me that you’ve told her a lot about me.” despite the way his eyes changed, darkening ever so slightly and pupils dilating, Nolan looked unphased by your confession.

“She’s not my girlfriend-”

“Then what is she? She’s clearly something since she’s here at your captain’s house. She’s visiting from Georgia for fuck’s sake, Pat-”

“So you did pay attention to her.” as fucked as it was, Nolan smirked at the realization that you still cared. Despite everything you told him, every time you said that you needed things to be a secret and that you couldn’t open up that part of you, he was elated to find out that you had a soft spot for him.

“Do you think it’s funny? You think it’s funny to watch me fall apart right in front of you? I’m trying so hard to keep myself together, and then you bring her here and wave her around in my face like you deserve an award for moving on.”

“I had no idea you were coming.” you wanted to laugh, wanted to scream at the top of your lungs that he had to be joking right now. But you didn’t, you held the laugh in the back of your throat and you opted for a vocal level that wouldn’t travel downstairs for everyone else to hear.

“That’s bullshit! I know you’re lying to me because Joel showed me a string of texts from your group chat of everyone saying that they were excited to see me. You know why he showed me that, Pat? Because I needed the motivation to peel myself off of my couch and start hanging out with my friends again. You know, i’m doing everything I can to hold it together but it’s really fucking hard when i can’t even be vocal about the fact that I don’t want to be around you right now.”

“Oh, don’t put that shit on me. You wanted to keep us a secret, so that means your heartbreak is a secret too. What do you want me to do about it? Help you through it? You want me to help you get over me? This is me trying to do that. I’m trying to move on, and you should be trying just as hard.” that almost hurt more than figuring out that he had deep rooted feelings for her. To know that she was your replacement, the one that was meant to help him get over you, that was much worse.

“But that’s the thing, Nolan! I don't want to get over you!”

“Well you have to! It’s too late to make up for all of the shit we’ve already been through. The damage is done, so you need to let me be happy without you.” your heart sank at the revelation, the look of defeat that sat on his face and told you that there was no going back. There was nothing you could do that was going to backtrack from this.

So you reached around him and grabbed the doorknob, twisting it as quickly as you could and slipping out of the bathroom just as quickly as Nolan had slipped in. You ran down the stairs fast enough to miss the sound of him slamming his fist into the countertop, the guttural groan that left him as he broke down in the room you left him in.

The good thing about the alcohol induced daze you were in was that your tears could’ve been due to anything. They could’ve been from someone taking your white claw away, and while you were sure you could find an excuse for crying, you knew that you wouldn’t need to when you saw Joel’s face.

“Can we go?” he nodded without a single question, promising you that it had been well over two hours since he had had a single sip of beer. He turned to Phil and told him to tell everyone they left but to leave out the part about you standing in front of them with wet cheeks and red eyes.

He didn’t ask you what was wrong, didn’t ask you to fess up to your crying fest in the car. He simply drove around the city until you had let out every tear and choked sob you could manage. He knew that part of it was spurred on by your blood alcohol level, surel exceeding the limit to drive, but he knew there was something you weren’t saying.

While not many people other than the people in Joel’s close vicinity had seen you crying just before your disappearance, a few did. And while nobody knew what it could have possibly been caused by, Karly watched Nolan descend down the stairs a few minutes after you had with an expression much different than the one he wore when he went upstairs. His cheeks were red and blown out, a dead give away for him being angry. It didn’t take her long to put the pieces together, to realize that you weren’t looking at Mackayla all night but rather the boy who had an arm draped around her shoulder.

You hoped that maybe you’d never have to see Mackayla after that, that she’d return to whatever town in Georgia she came from and stay there. Maybe even if she was around, you wouldn’t have to be around her. If Joel and Travis wanted to believe that it was from your attraction to her then so be it, just as long as you didn’t have to witness Nolan giving someone else the affection you craved from him.

But time passed and Mackayla stuck around. She stuck around for a few more months, visiting Nolan far more often than you would have cared for. She was around more than you wished she’d be. She was nice enough for everyone to like her, though it was kept at a surface level. Joel still picked your brain about your supposed crush on her, dropping hints in various conversations about it.

“So I was talking to Mack the other day-”

“Who the fuck is Mack?” it was a reflex, popping your head around the corner and shooting Joel a confused look across the room. He was leaning back on your couch, waiting for you to come back with the popcorn that was currently popping in the microwave.

“Mackayla…” Joel’s voice trailed off as he turned over his shoulder, his smirk all too irritating for you to not roll your eyes.

“What, the two of you are best friends now?” if Joel didn’t know you so well, he’d think you were jealous. He did, to an extent, think that you were jealous of him for being close to Mackayla, which was somewhat amusing for you.

“Chill, y/n/n. I’m not going to steal her away from you. She’s all yours, after she’s Patty’s.” it was meant to be playful, meant to bring a soft laugh out of you. Joel had no idea that he was just digging the dagger further into your heart, twisting it violently at the mention of Nolan and his girlfriend that seemed to be here to stay for much longer than you originally expected.

She showed up at games that you quickly regretted attending, wearing a jersey that you recognized all too well, having a few matching ones lining the back of your closet. You played nice though, letting her ask questions about you and answering them with the best answer you could offer at the time. You even went to grab drinks with her during the second intermission.

It was almost laughable, how oblivious she was. She was nice and in any other scenario where she wasn’t dating the boy you were hopelessly in love with, you probably would have liked her. There was nothing wrong with her other than her love interest, and the fact that she was oblivious to everything around her. You thought it was innocent at first, maybe even cute, but then she offered you a bright smile after you had calmed down from celebrating Joel’s second goal of the night and told you that the two of you would be a cute couple. Not only did it make you laugh, but the way she wiggled her eyebrows and told you that she could help you make that happen made you sigh in realization that she truly had no idea what mess she had walked into.

You hadn’t realized that Karly had caught onto your distaste for her until you announced that you had to run to the bathroom and Karly jumped up before Mackayla could even think about it and hooked her arms in yours. You sent her a puzzled look laced with a soft smile until she raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips in a way that told you exactly why she volunteered to go with you.

She let you break down in the bathroom, confessing that the mere sight of her made you nauseous. You told her about the history between you and Nolan, the way that you fell in love with him without even knowing it. You told her how you messed it up, how you did something that he couldn’t forgive you for and before you were able to tell her that you didn’t know how you would fix any of it, she told you that there was no way in hell that this was irreversible.

She’d seen the way you looked at him, the way he looked at you and the way he looked at her. In her mind, the choice was clear. Mackayla was no match for you, not even close. She didn’t bring any of the things to the table that you could, despite her being a good person. She wasn’t a bad person, but you were made for Nolan. Even Karly could figure that one out.

So you let her drag you to a bar with the team afterwards. You let her ring up a tab for the two of you and slip you drinks throughout the night without thinking much of it. Sure, Mackayla and Nolan weren’t very far away, but you knew you wouldn’t have to watch them do much more than things you’d already seen. You knew they wouldn’t dance, since Nolan would’ve preferred to drink everything behind the bar than dance in public.

It made you think about the times he danced with you in the kitchen at 3 am when soft music was pouring out of his phone and encapsulating the two of you in your own bubble. Neither of you were ever fully dressed, wearing things that you picked up off of the floor before cooking an entire meal in the middle of the night. Those nights were your favorite, when he did things that only you had the pleasure of experiencing.

It made a familiar feeling stir in your stomach, one that had you pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as you rushed towards the bathroom, passing the line that formed against one of the walls. Karly apologized to everyone who you had unintentionally skipped, though they all waved her off and claimed that you clearly needed it more than they did.

You were relieved when you got inside, able to breathe while also getting the nausea out of your system. Karly stood guard, only opening the door to yell at someone that had been knocking for the past three minutes.

“It’s fucking occupied- Patty?”

“Move.” you coughed at the sound of his voice, your throat constricting in a way that was involuntary. “Karly, seriously-”

“Nolan that’s not a good idea-”

“I can get her to stop.” Karly’s words paused in her throat, uncertainty flowing through her but when she heard you dry heave for the third time, she stepped aside and let Nolan come inside.

He gently pulled your hair out of your hands and grabbed the hair tie around your wrist, throwing your hair into the quickest ponytail he could in order to get it out of your face. His hands fell to your sides, slipping under your shirt without much effort at all and providing your skin with a newfound warmth.

He’d done this before, that much was obvious to Karly with the way you easily melted into his touch. He wasn’t doing much more than Karly could do but she knew that it was the feeling of his hands that grounded you, rather than physical touch in the general sense. If it wasn’t Nolan it wouldn’t have worked, and that gave Karly everything she needed to know about how you felt about her boyfriend’s best friend.

“You’re okay.” he whispered softly, letting you fall back against his chest and curl up into a ball on the floor of a dirty bar bathroom. He rocked you gently, almost unintentionally, while he kissed the back of your head gently. “You’re okay.” he repeated, feeling you relax into his hold afterwards.

Karly was stunned to say the least. She had never seen you react like that to anybody, let alone when they were that close to you. She was used to seeing you shove Joel or Travis away from you when they tried to baby you, claiming that you could hold your own and didn’t need them to help you through things. But here you were, melting into Nolan’s hold without a second thought.

“Thank you.” you whispered gently, despite the fact that Nolan was inherently the reason you were in this position. He didn’t know that, assuming your physical reaction to be from the alcohol you had consumed.

“I’m going to go get you some water.” Karly whispered softly before slipping out of the room, but not leaving until she threatened anyone else that tried to usher you out of the bathroom.

“You didn’t have to do that you know?” it was soft and broke through a thick silence after Karly had left, but it was enough for Nolan.

“I know I didn’t, but I care about you and I know that Karly’s clueless when it comes to things like that.” you laughed, one that came out more bitter than you had originally intended it to. Nolan’s ears perked up, his face twisting in confusion. “What?”

“Nothing, you’re just holding me in a bathroom right now while your girlfriend is waiting for you to return.” Nolan groaned, annoyed that you had to ruin a good moment by mentioning Mackayla. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he wished that just once he could have a conversation without you mentioning her.

“Alright well if you want me to leave, I can.” he stood up, brushing off his jeans and turning towards the door before you were on your feet and pulling away from it.

“Do you love her?” his brow furrowed, confusion written into his features as he tried to figure out why you would ask him such a thing. His silence gave you hope, made you believe that there was a possibility that maybe he didn’t love her.

“Why would you-”

“Do you still love me?” it hit him like a thousand bricks, like he had walked straight into a wall and knocked himself out. He’d never told you that he loved you, despite the fact that he definitely did. You had never told each other that you felt that way, though now you think maybe that would have changed things between the two of you. “I only ask because-”

“Just, don’t. Don’t this to me, y/n. I can’t handle this again.” you wondered if the sound you heard was his heart cracking, breaking in his chest at a simple question. You wondered if you had messed things up by being too scared, by living in fear rather than taking things that you wanted.

“I love you.” you felt your shoulders fall, shedding themselves of the weight they held onto for so long. “I love you so much it hurts, and everyone thinks it’s just because I’m in love with your girlfriend. They think that when i’m looking at you, i’m looking at her and while it’s a great coverup for the real issue at hand, it’s almost worse. Because in a way, I guess I am. I want to be her, I want to be in her place. I want to kiss her because at least I'll get to taste your lips again. At least if I listen to her go on and on about her weekend plans then I can keep up with your life from someone other than Tk.”

It was a lot, a lot of things you’d wanted to say for longer than you could recount, but now it was too much. It was too much to dump on Nolan in a bar bathroom where you had just previously been throwing up. It wasn’t ideal, and it was probably disgusting, but you need to get it out now. Now or never, right here in the bathroom where Nolan’s girlfriend stood not too far outside of it.

“Y/n-”

“Just tell me you love me. Tell me i’m not crazy because I think you look at me the way you should be looking at her. I think that whatever you have with her is probably great, but it’s nothing like what we had. She’s not me, Nolan. I know she’s not.”

“That’s the problem! She’s not you, and that’s good for me. She’s good for me. She doesn’t hide me, doesn’t shove me into her room when her best friend comes knocking on the door. She doesn’t hide my jerseys in the back of her closet or stay ten feet away from me in public. She’s not you, but that’s not an accident.” your heart sank, not only at the words ringing in your ears but the steam pouring out of his ears. The way that he was looking at you, like you’d ruined him, made your stomach twist. It was awful, to have him stand in front of you and not understand that all you wanted was him.

“Nolan please-”

“Please what, y/n? Haven’t we already had this conversation? You want me to help you but I'm telling you I can’t do that. I can’t keep running into bathrooms when you’re throwing up and I can’t hold your hand when your anxiety bubbles up and you can’t be around people anymore. I can’t do this for you anymore y/n. Yes, I love you. I love you but it hurts in a way that love should not hurt. I shouldn’t wake up every morning feeling like i’ve lost a part of me that i’ll never get back. I should be able to have a girlfriend without worrying about what my ex thinks, how she feels about me. I shouldn’t have to worry about your feelings anymore because you didn’t worry about mine when I was begging you to stop making me sneak around with you.”

“I didn’t mean for-”

“I don’t care anymore, honestly. I don’t care what you meant to do. All I'm asking you to do is to leave me alone and let me move on with my life. You had your chance, you had me right in front of you, telling you that you were the one for me, you were it, and you threw it away. You broke my heart and kicked me to the curb because you didn’t care what I wanted. So now i’m telling you that I don’t care what you want. I want you to stay away from me.”

The image of him walking out of the bathroom felt a lot like the night he walked out of your apartment. The way he slammed the door in your face, leaving you behind with wet cheeks and an ache in your chest that made it hard to breathe. It wasn’t any different from last time, but you were determined to change it from here on out.

You walked out of the bathroom after splashing water on your face, walking straight up to the bar and ordering three shots of tequila. Three shots that Karly watched him place in front of you from her place across the room as panic coursed through her. She shoved Travis to the side and did her best to reach you in time, dragging Joel along with her but it was too late. You had already tipped back two of the shots by the time they got there, and just as they slammed into the side of the bar, you lifted your third in a mock cheer before downing it.

“Let’s go have some fun, yeah?” you grabbed Karly’s hands and pulled her to the middle of the room to dance with you.

Karly wasn’t sure if she should be careful around you, if you had things that you wanted to air out or if you wanted to bury everything. She wasn’t sure exactly what happened with you and Nolan, and she wasn’t entirely sure how she was supposed to help you. So she let you drink. She made sure that Joel would be ready to take you home when you needed to go, and she let you do almost anything in between.

Joel was the one that cut you off, paying for your tab and pulling you away from a guy you were trying to hustle drinks from in favor of taking you home. He labeled you as gone enough to go home and when he was met with a drunken smile, he knew he made the right decision.

He kept an arm around you when you said goodbye to everyone, and pretended not to notice the way you skipped right over Nolan on your way out. Karly made him promise to call her as soon as he had gotten you home. He let you lean against him on the walk to his car and made sure all of your limbs were safely placed inside before shutting the door.

“You have a good night?” Joel asked about a minute or so into the drive, watching you gaze longingly out of your window. You nodded gently, which was slightly off putting but somehow enough for Joel to stop pushing it.

“She’s so pretty.” Joel’s ears perked up, attention shifting over to you at the sound of your voice. “Great smile, big blue eyes that you can’t help but stare out. Her accent can get annoying but it’s cute in a weird way.”

Joel laughed gently, thinking that your rambling was a drunk confession that his skepticism had been correct, that he had sniffed you out easier than you had expected him to. But then you spoke again, and it took everything in him not to slam on the brakes in the middle of the street.

“Maybe if I had her long blonde hair or her magic touch, he’d want me just as much.” he felt his heart sink into his stomach, realization dawned on him more and more as time progressed.

All this time, he’d been teasing you about the stupid crush he thought you had on Nolan’s girlfriend. He thought the glances and the heavy sighs were directed towards the blonde girl when in all reality, they were directed at his teammate. It made sense, how you and Nolan seemed to start acting strange around the same time. He wouldn’t hear from either of you for hours at a time, when nobody knew where either of you were.

It made sense why you stopped coming to games, why you stopped accepting invitations to go out with everyone. He realized now, that he’d made a big mistake. By thinking that you had a thing for Mackayla, every mere mention of the girl must have brought a sick feeling to your stomach. He mentioned her and Nolan all the time, and had unintentionally hurt you in the process.

“Do you think he would?” you turned toward Joel, hand falling onto his arm while your eyes blurred with a thin layer of tears. He looked down at you, so fragile and small in his passenger seat, and softened. He couldn’t help but think he helped put you in this position, but he could make sure he never did it again.

“I think he’d be an idiot not to love you just the way you are.” you rolled your eyes but the smile that stretched across your lips was enough for him. You shoved him playfully, letting a laugh pass your lips afterwards.

Something twisted in his stomach, seeing you laugh beside him in his passenger seat. You looked beautiful despite the drunken haze and the way your eyes could hardly stay open. It wasn’t the first time Joel had seen you like this but he hoped it wouldn’t be his last either.

“Careful, Beezer. You’re going to get my hopes up.” his heart sank again, the smile slowly fading from your lips before you slipped into a light sleep. He was furious that anybody would hurt you like this, let alone someone that he was so close to. He didn’t know how he didn’t sniff this out sooner, but he was determined to never let it go unnoticed again.

Joel kept a close eye on you then. He made sure not to invite you to things when Mackayla was already set to attend. He kept conversation topics about Nolan in the ‘do not mention’ box, only mentioning him if he was a vital part to the story he was telling. Joel went through your closet and replaced every single Patrick jersey with a Farabee one, claiming that you can’t keep showing up to the games with a simple flyers hoodie that was practically on its last leg.

You noticed the small changes, noticed that Joel was doing his best to keep you out of harm's way. You assumed he must have told Travis enough for him to stop mentioning your alleged crush on Mackayla. One thing you were sure of was the fact that you wouldn’t have made it this far without Joel. He showed up with takeout when he knew you’d gone all day without eating, and put on your favorite movie without asking.

Essentially, he was himself, dialed up to eleven. He made sure you never had to go anywhere by yourself if you didn’t want to. It was clear that Mackayla wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and you were far too close with the rest of the team to let Nolan indirectly stop you from having fun with your friends.

You went into the night thinking that it would be a good stepping stone for you to accept the fact that Mackayla would be around more often whether you liked it or not. You got ready with Karly, pulling on the tight leotard and the bunny ears that matched. It was a ridiculous outfit, but it was worth it when Joel walked into your apartment with his arms outstretched beside him and a pipe hanging from his lips loosely.

“Where’s my bunny?” you wiped a stray tear from your waterline, your laughter tumbling further into an uncontrollable fit. You knew these costumes would be ridiculous but seeing Joel in a velvet robe and a sailor’s hat was far more comical than you originally expected.

“Hi Hughie.” you kissed his cheek gently, heating up the patch of skin unintentionally. You didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered on the skin of your exposed thighs, nor did you see the way his eyes followed you when you turned around, back facing him.

“You ready?” you nodded gently and told Travis he did a good job, despite the fact that his and Karly’s prisoner costumes were just orange jumpsuits.

Karly brought her lips close to your ear when Nolan and Mackayla arrived, making a passive comment about how you and Joel looked ten times better than that. It made you think about last halloween, where you ended up leaving Claude’s with Nolan, only to wake up the next morning with a trail of marks down your neck and a mess of makeup you had forgotten to take off before falling asleep.

You shook the thought out of your head, deciding that it wasn’t worth it. You were thankful that Joel stayed close to you all night, eliminating the possibility of you ever being locked in a room with just Nolan and/or Mackayla. He didn’t stop you from tossing back one too many white claws and kept guard in front of the door when you used the bathroom.

He didn’t stop you from standing on a table beside Tk, elbows hooked together while you raced to down your can faster than him. He hip checked Karly when she tried to distract you to give her boyfriend the win, and he grabbed onto both of your thighs when you wobbled on the slightly unsteady surface.

Your hands fell to grab onto his shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself, thankful for the way he had no intention to let you fall. He smiled up at you with a smile that said he knew you were just past the point of being able to keep your balance. You’d lost count of how many white claws you’d been handed throughout the night, but the close eye he kept on you told him how much more you’d be able to handle before the night was over.

Joel wrapped his arms around your legs and lifted you off of the tabletop, only loosening them enough for you to slide down to stand on your feet. When your feet hit the floor, you were painfully aware of how close you were to Joel, feeling his breath fan over your face and struggling to keep your eyes locked on his.

In all the time you’ve known Joel, you’ve never felt the fuzzy feeling that was currently residing in your chest. You’d never thought about your relationship all that much. The two of you spent time together because it felt natural, it was easy to fall into a routine with him without even realizing it. In another world, you’d let Joel break down your walls. You’d probably help him, hammering them down all on your own if it meant that he looked at you like that for the rest of your life.

But this wasn’t a perfect world, and you couldn’t do that. No matter how much you tried to soak in the way that Joel was looking at you, the way he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes off of you or pry his hands off of your sides, you were reminded of the fact that he wasn’t Nolan.

You cleared your throat, eyebrows furrowing for just a second before you started tripping over your words. “I, uh-”

“Beezer!” Joel’s hands fell back to his side, eyes snapping up to follow the sound of his name only to find Morgan and Phil beckoning him over in their direction.

“I should uh-”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, go. Don't fall off any tables.” he laughed gently and pressed a soft kiss to your temple before walking past you, leaving you with a burning feeling in both of your hips and now the spot of your temple that was still warm from his lips.

You quickly shook it off by the time that Karly popped up beside you with an unopened white claw, swinging it in front of your face and smiling brightly when you snatched it out of her hold. Unbeknownst to you but not flying under Karly’s radar, was the boy with bright blue eyes and shoulder length hair that had been watching you longer than he should have been.

Karly sent him a firm glare while your back was to him, silently testing him while also warning him. He rolled his eyes, unsure of when she had figured things out or what she had heard. He was sure you told a skewed version of the truth, surely roping Karly into believing Nolan was the spawn of satan. In all actuality, Karly didn’t think that. She thought that the things you told her about Nolan were great, and she knew you deserve someone like that. She did, however, know that you were also hurt by the things that Nolan had been doing and saying recently, and she’ll be damned if she lets him hurt you again.

So she kept an eye on Nolan all night, she made sure that he kept his distance from you while also trying to figure out what was going on between you and Joel. You leaned just a little further into him than you normally would and he seemed to always have a hold on you, whether it be his hands on your hips or an arm thrown over your shoulders.

The first time she could ask about it was when the two of you were dancing, not the only ones in the room but you were surely the only one that could hear her over the music. She wrapped her arms around your neck and brought her lips close to your ear to help drown out the sound to everyone else while also trying to eliminate the possibility of raising suspicion.

“So you and Beezer?” you smiled fondly, not even realizing that a toothy grin spread across your lips at the sound of Joel’s name.

“He’s just my best friend, K.” she rolled her eyes, unconvinced that’s all it was. She casted her eyes over your shoulder, catching the eyes of none other than the boy dressed as Hugh Hefner.

“I’d say the way he’s looking at you right now is not how I look at my friends. It is, however, the way I look at my boyfriend after being teased all night long.” you turned over your shoulder, catching Joel’s eyes with your own. He pushed a smile forward, one that eventually turned into a short laugh before he looked back at Morgan who was talking about something he had lost track of a while ago.

“We’re just friends.” Karly hummed, unconvinced but dropping the subject nonetheless.

If you weren’t thinking about it beforehand, now it would have been impossible to stop thinking about Joel. maybe it was the fact that you could still feel his hands on your hips, or the fact that almost every time you looked at him he was already looking at you. It felt impossible to stop thinking about him, to turn your mind off and stop thinking. It sucked, the dull ache finding its way back to your chest because no matter how much you were thinking of Joel, you couldn’t stop subconsciously looking for Nolan.

The way he didn’t have his arm slung around Mackayla’s shoulders like always brought a whisper of a smile to your face. She was talking to Jake about something that he looked amused over, whether it was the topic of their conversation or her hand gestures that amused him you weren’t sure of. He was hardly looking at her, opting to stare into his cup or up at Travis when he nudged him hard enough to grab his attention.

But then he looked up at you, holding eye contact with you for longer than either of you should have. His knuckles were white, his cheeks tinted red in a way that made you dizzy. You remembered a time when you’d smile at the sight of them, run your fingers over them and probably kiss them softly. Nolan would tell you to leave them alone, to ignore that they were even there but he didn’t mind when they made you smile like that.

It took you back to a time where you could cock your head to the side and ask him to meet you in the bathroom. There’d be rushed kisses and whispered affirmations, words that nobody outside of the two of you were ever going to hear but it didn’t matter because Nolan was the one saying it all to you.

But you couldn’t do that now. You couldn’t meet him upstairs or back at your apartment afterwards. He’d be going home with his girlfriend and you’d be going home alone. It was the harsh fact that you had been trying to accept for months at this point, but it didn’t hurt any less than it did the first time you saw Mackayla and realized that no matter how much you wanted to hate her, you couldn’t.

You took a deep breath and broke eye contact, opting to turn your focus to downing the rest of your drink before walking into the kitchen to grab another. You’d love to say that you were surprised when you heard the door open after you had shut it, but you weren’t. In fact, you’d be surprised if it hadn’t opened.

“Is there something going on with you and Beezer?” you fought back a laugh that sat in the back of your throat. Of course that’s what he cared about. Of course, even after all this time, he was still worried about what you were doing and who you were doing it with.

“Would there be a problem if there was?” you turned over your shoulder, not missing the way he had to peel his eyes off of your backside. Though, you couldn’t blame him for it. You look good in the black leotard and you were sure it wasn’t the first time tonight that he looked at you like that.

“So there is?” you rolled your eyes and turned back to your drink that was practically finished. You took a deep breath and exhaled through your nose, bringing the cup to your lips to take a large gulp of it before you turned back around and made a break for the exit.

“No, Nolan. There’s nothing going on between Joel and I but it’s not exactly your place to grill me if there was.” you went to give him a firm pat on the shoulder but he gripped your wrist lightly, turning you just enough so he could look at you properly.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” the look of confusion mixed with hurt that took over your face filled him with regret. You had never done anything that should have given him the notion that you’d ever lie to him, but he felt the need to ask regardless. Now that he had, he had his answer and he wished he had just kept it to himself.

“Things would be a lot easier between us if I was able to lie to you.” despite the fact that he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, there wasn’t enough time for you to explain your words to him before you were walking past him and out of the kitchen.

The alcohol swimming through your system had your eyes burning before the door had even shut behind you and while Nolan didn’t follow you out right after, that didn’t stop Joel from grabbing your hand and tugging you away from the room.

“I was just about to go in. I saw him follow you in there, are you okay?” he could tell you were in a bit of a daze. It was evident in the way your eyes didn’t meet his right away, the way that your breathing was slightly irregular and the way that when you looked up at him, he could tell you were still out of it.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah i’m okay.” he nodded slowly despite the fact that he wasn’t entirely convinced and agreed to dance with you when one of your favorite songs came on.

It felt like the night was never ending at this point. You’re not sure what time it was or how many white claws you had downed, but that was obvious by the way you were stumbling around the Giroux house. Joel hardly trusted you to go to the bathroom by yourself with the way you were stumbling everywhere.

He was persistent in walking behind you up the stairs, holding out his hands to stop you from falling backwards. He wasn’t much more sober than you were, but he was clearly handling it a lot better than you were. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest when he said he was going to wait outside for you, but then he offered to sit on the edge of the tub and while it was far from the thing you should have done, you were certain that you would mess up somewhere if you did it all on your own.

One thing you had forgotten about was the outfit you were wearing, and the fact that you practically had to strip in order to use the bathroom. So, with a low groan and a drunken laugh, you told Joel he had to stand in the shower while you peed, curtain closed and all. He did though, stand in the shower and stare at the tiled walls while he asked you if you were having a good night, all things considered.

When he heard the sink turn on and your voice telling him he could come back out, the shower curtain slid to the side and he stepped back out, a smile gracing his lips when he locked eyes with you in the mirror. He bumped your hip with his gently and gasped when you splashed water at him from the faucet, splashing you back without any hesitation.

“Oh that was a grave mistake, Farabee.” his eyebrows shot up, a silent questioning sitting on the tip of his tongue before he repeated his actions.

Somewhere along teasing comments and a few more splashes, the laughter dulled down and the faucet was turned off. Joel’s eyes were trained on you though, the alcohol in his system lowering his subtlety in the way he raked your body up and down. It wasn’t subtle and it sent a chill down your spine, the fact that he was openly checking you out unapologetically.

He leaned closer, or maybe you leaned closer, it was unclear who made which move first and who was just simply following suit but within mere seconds, your lips were pressed against Joel’s. His hands found the back of your thighs with ease and lifted you up onto the countertop, giving him the ability to press his lips further into yours.

You got caught up in the heat of the moment. The way his lips felt against yours felt so familiar, like you had kissed him in another life. It felt easy and natural, and right. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced, even holding his head in yours while you kissed him back just as feverishly.

You were in a daze until he pulled his lips back from yours and pressed them against the skin of your neck, making a path of his own on the way down to the spot of your neck that met your shoulder. Maybe it was the fact that he settled in an all too familiar spot of your neck, or the way that his hands couldn’t seem to hold enough of you, but you ripped out of the moment. Everything around you started coming back, reminding you of what you were doing in the bathroom of a Halloween party where all of your friends were just downstairs.

“Joel.” you whispered softly, trying to get a firm grip on reality rather than allowing yourself to get lost in the boy that was still nipping and sucking at your skin.

“Yeah baby?” the rasp in his voice sent a shockwave through your body, making your head fall back ever so slightly at the same time a low whine passed your lips.

“We can’t do this.”

“Why’s that?” he switched sides, grabbing the underside of your jaw and turning your head enough to give him access to the other side of your neck.

“Because we can’t Joel. you’re my best friend-”

“Oh bullshit.” he pulled back then, pupils blown out and lips slightly swollen. Red tinted his cheeks and the soft pants rolling past his lips mimicked the way his mind was racing. “Haven’t you heard anyone say that falling in love with your best friend is the best decision you can make?” your heart fell into your stomach, your shoulders slumping at the sound of his question.

Falling in love? You didn’t think Joel was anywhere near in love with you. You’d guess maybe a crush or some surface level feelings but full blown love? There was something holding you back, not allowing you to get to that point with anyone after what you’d been through. You couldn’t just forget about all of it as if it hadn’t happened, as if it didn’t still affect you.

“Say something.” the desperation in his voice killed you, somehow breaking your heart even further. The way his lust clouded vision turned to one of pleading tugged at your heartstrings in a way that had you speaking before you could even think about it.

“I still love him, Bee.” Joel’s head fell then, his hands moving to grip the edge of the counter on either side of you as he tried to catch his breath. “Joel-”

“Don’t bother. I get it. It’s always going to be Patty, right?” he looked up at you, hoping that you’d rush to tell him that’s not what you meant, but that never came.

Instead you bit your lower lip, chewing the anxiety away as you tried to find the words to describe the situation. By the time you could think of anything worth saying, Joel was already turning the knob and slamming the door shut behind him. The sound made you jump just before you leaned back against the mirror, trying to rid yourself of the mess you just made for yourself.

Joel rushed down the stairs in search of something to drink, anything that would save him from his mind. He couldn’t stop replaying it over in his head, the way your hands felt on the sides of his face or locked in his hair. The way your lips felt against his or the way you reacted to his touch. He couldn’t get the sight of your blown out pupils and swollen lips, two things he had caused, out of his head. He couldn’t get you out of his head.

When he found Phil and Morgan passing a flask back and forth, he held his out for it and downed about half of it before Phil tried to swat it away from his lips, noticing something severely wrong with Joel. None of them noticed you jog down the stairs and bolt out back, in search of fresh air and a space where there weren’t many people around.

“You alright Beezer?” Phil asked just before tipping the flask enough to take a swig from it.

“Other than the fact that I may have just fucked everything up, I’m fine.” Morgan realized what he meant first, given that he’d heard Joel talk about you more often than anyone else on the team. Morgan was the one he went to when he couldn’t go to you, this being one of their main conversation topics.

“What did you do?” Joel’s eyes lingered on Morgan for a bit and when he pushed out a heavy sigh to procrastinate the words he was about to say, he only allowed the time for Nolan to walk past him just in time to hear everything he was going to say.

“I think I almost slept with y/n.” Nolan came to a screeching halt behind him, eyes snapping to meet Phil’s who was completely clueless to the tension currently building up.

“You what?” Joel’s neck practically snapped with how quickly he turned over his shoulder, coming face to face with the broody boy who was seething right in front of him.

“Nothing. I uh, that came out wrong.” Nolan didn’t believe him though. With the way Joel was stumbling over his words and avoiding eye contact, Nolan knew there was something worth digging into.

Nolan walked away from the three of them, eyes scanning the room, no doubt in search of you. His fists were clenched and his focus was completely thrown off. He had forgotten about everything else going on around him, everyone else that stood inside of the house.

He saw you through the sliding glass door, a smile sitting on your face that he knew held no weight to it. He knew that whatever Jake was telling you was probably funny, but he knew there were other things on your mind. Both because he knew you well enough to know when something was on your mind but also because he had just heard Joel say that there was something for you to be thinking about.

He yanked the back door open, not caring for a single second if it slammed open or shut, or if it even shut at all behind him. He didn’t care if he was attracting attention to himself or if he was about to accidentally air out a bunch of dirty laundry for not only himself, but you and Joel as well.

“So you’re a liar now?” your head turned at the loud voice calling out to you from the opposite side of the yard, worry and fear intertwining in the back of your mind.

“What are you talking about?” Jake and Claude had forgotten what their conversation was even about by the time Nolan was halfway across the yard, anger clearly written into his expression.

“You fucked Beezer?” your eyes blew wide open, along with the two men at your side that were rudely interrupted by a false accusation.

“No! What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about whatever happened between you and Beezer that you told me was surely not happening.” you rolled your eyes now, more annoyed with the fact that he was digging this deep into something he had no business knowing about rather than the fact that he was yelling at you in front of your families.

“Why do you even care, Nolan?”

“He’s my teammate! How am i supposed to play on a line with him when i know he’s-”

“He’s what?” you stood up now, standing face to face with the boy who was clearly causing a scene. Even the people still standing inside were watching through the door that still hadn’t shut from Nolan’s dramatic exit/entrance.

“He’s touched you!”

“It was just a kiss for fuck’s sake!” Joel wouldn’t admit that his heart sank at the comment. What was ‘just a kiss’ to you was much more to him. It was everything he’d wanted to for as long as he could remember, but he’d keep that to himself too.

“It’s the principle!” his words irritated you. He was irritating you. You’re not sure how it was his business to know, let alone who gave him the right to be mad about it.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Nolan!” he clenched his fists at the fact. He knew that, he was painfully aware of that. All it did was remind him that the girl he wanted more than anything wouldn’t meet him halfway.

“Well that doesn’t mean he can be!”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because i’m still in love with you!” it was bad timing, truly. In theory, someone probably should have stopped her from stepping outside while the two of you were fighting, but nobody did. Nobody stopped Mackayla from hearing everything that Nolan said, everything that he had denied to her for as long as they’d been together, and they didn’t stop her from walking out into the backyard just as her boyfriend was confessing his love for another girl.

You deflated at the sight of her, shoulders slumping when you realized that you were responsible for two people’s heart breaks tonight. Three if you counted Nolan, but you didn’t. He’d been like this for a long time it seemed and while you wanted to fix that, one thing Nolan was right about was the fact that there was too much damage between the two of you to backtrack now.

“You’re in love with her?” Nolan’s eyes fluttered shut at the sound of her voice, mind racing over all the ways he messed up in the past that led to this moment. His girlfriend of x amount of months was now standing behind him, her heart in her stomach and her cheeks wet as she witnessed her boyfriend confess that he was in love with the girl she’d been worried about for the entirety of their relationship.

“Mack.” he whispered gently, turning around to face the girl who had already given up on him. There was no way he could fix this. He had told her too many times to count that nothing had ever happened between you and him. He promised her that you weren’t somebody she needed to worry about, but he told everyone that it seemed. “Mack I didn’t mean to-”

She turned and ran back into the house before Nolan could even finish his thought. While he wanted to turn around and drill into you for fucking up another thing for him, he knew it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything you weren’t allowed to do and he made a mess for himself. He didn’t walk into a mess you built, didn’t try to fix someone who didn’t need fixing, but he did break two girls who deserved the world.

“Good job.” you mumbled to yourself, bumping his arm with your shoulder when you walked past him and tried to follow Mackayla when he made no effort to.

“Y/n-” you spun at the sound of your name, angry tears building up in your eyes at the look on his face, a look that made you feel guilty for something you were more than allowed to do.

“No! You don’t get to berate me. You don’t get to belittle me or tell me that I made a mistake. I’m allowed to do whatever the fuck I want to. You left me, remember? You left me and you told me that I needed to let you be happy. I tried, Nolan. I tried so hard to let you be happy and now you’re screaming at me in front of everybody because of what? Because I might be starting to be happy without you? You don’t get to be angry at me for finding a way to fix myself. Just leave me alone.” by the time you passed by everyone who was looking at the floor rather than up at you, you knew that you should leave anyways.

With your phone in one hand and your shoes in the other, you ran outside and sighed at the relief you felt when you found Mackayla sitting on the curb.

“Mackayla!” you ran down the driveway towards her, wincing at the sight of her glaring harshly at you. “Mackayla I’m so sorry.”

She wiped her cheeks and nose and let out a heavy sigh. In reality, she couldn’t be mad at you. You didn’t do anything wrong in her mind and you surely weren’t the one that lied to her. Sure, it wasn’t her first choice to hang out with the girl that inherently stole her boyfriend from her, but she also figured that she had stolen your boyfriend in a way so she guessed that made the two of you even.

“He sucks.” you laughed gently and sat beside her, opening your phone while you plopped down on the curb beside her.

“He does.” you paused for a moment before smiling over at her. “You’re staying with him, aren’t you?” she nodded slowly, realizing that she didn’t have anywhere to go or any of her things. “Well I'm about to order an uber if you want to crash at my place for the night. I’ll answer any questions you want and I’ll help you get your shit from his place in the morning.”

She hesitated, clearly not ready to accept your offer with a wide smile and an open mind. She hardly knew you, and she wasn’t ready to forget about all of the things she was beginning to realize about you and Nolan’s relationship.

But she agreed, because she truly had nowhere else to go. She sat at your dining room table with you in a pair of your sweatpants and a shirt you had promised her was not Nolan’s. She drank your coffee out of one of your mugs and asked you every question that had plagued her over the course of her relationship with Nolan. Not all of them were about you, not even all of them were about Nolan, but you answered them all regardless.

You helped her get her things in the morning from Nolan’s and drove her to the airport when she was able to rebook her flight back home. You apologized ten more times and she waved off every one of them by telling you that you didn’t do anything wrong other than be the love of Nolan’s life, which wasn’t your fault entirely.

Karly was there to help pick up the pieces the best that she could, though it was hard with her not always being in Philly. She tried to fill the space in your life that Joel left when he stopped coming around for movie nights and take out dinners. You fully stopped going to Flyers games, finding no use in showing up to them anymore.

Every call you made was sent to voicemail, every text left unread. You were being shut out, and you couldn’t do anything about it. Travis tried to assure you it wasn’t your fault, you just didn’t notice your best friend falling in love with you because you were trying to fall out of love with his teammate. He told you to just give Joel time, but you were stuck believing that ‘time’ may never have an ending.

So you threw yourself into your work. You submitted projects before their due dates and received positive feedback on just about every portion of them. It was a healthy coping mechanism, a way to shift your focus onto something productive. You did such a good job, in fact, that your boss called you into his office after a few months.

It was nerve wracking, to be called into your boss’s office with no clues as to why. It was even more nerve wracking after you had left and your hands were slightly shaking. The weight put onto your shoulders was unlike any you’d ever experienced, plagues with a decision to make all on your own. It wasn’t a decision you wanted, not one you had even been close to looking for, but it’s one that you got.

It’s one that lingered in the back of your mind for weeks afterwards, still never reaching a decision. The flexible timeline gave you all the time in the world to decide, and your boss wasn’t pushing you in either direction, though you slightly wished he would have.

But then you told Karly about said decision, and the way you watched her face fall told you that she knew what your decision would be. In all actuality, you knew what your decision was. If you were going to say no, you would have by now. You would have denied the offer and stuck with your current life, boring or not.

You were practically tackled the second you stepped foot in Travis’s apartment, his arms thrown around you as he leaned into you just enough to throw off your balance. Phil followed close behind, wrapping you up in his arms and telling you that you weren’t allowed to disappear for that long ever again. Karly’s sideways glance in your direction went unseen to everyone but you, mostly because you silently told her to drop it, given that now was not the time to be talking about this.

But then you felt your heart sink further into your chest with every passing second. It was nice to be around all the people that made Philly feel like home to you, but it made your decision harder. Not because you had to choose which side you were on anymore, but because it made your choice that much harder to accept.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so hard if Joel wasn’t going out of his way to ignore you. The way he ducked out of your way any time he got close to you, or the way he purposefully stood on the opposite side of the room when the only open seat was beside you. You noticed the way he steered clear of you and while you wanted to be upset that you didn’t have your best friend to make these things easier for you, you knew that Joel was doing this for his own good, not to hurt you.

So you found yourself on Travis’s balcony with Karly, your head leaning on her shoulder while you swung a bottle back and forth between your fingers. The sound of the door opening behind you made you turn over your shoulder, eyes locking with the same pair of blue eyes that you knew you’d have to face at some point.

“I’ll let you two talk.” Karly whispered gently before standing up and ducking back inside.

Nolan closed the door this time, making it a habit in everything he did nowadays. He sat beside you, his knee knocking into yours gently. He didn’t know what to say to you, didn’t know how to apologize for all of the things he had put you through. The two of you had something beautiful once, you’re not sure when it turned itself upside down but it didn’t matter anymore. Not when things were about to change so drastically. Maybe not for him, but definitely for you.

“I’m shocked your lap dog’s not out here.” you rolled your eyes, finding it ridiculous that you thought he would start this conversation on a positive note.

“Why don’t you sit there and i’ll sit here and we can keep to ourselves until one of us wants to go back inside.” he sighed, like he regretted starting off on the wrong foot.

“We can’t even try to be nice to each other?” you turned to him then, giving him a look he hadn’t seen in a long time. It reminded him of times where you’d let the stress from school and work pile up, when you looked at him with an exhaustion that he couldn’t help. It was how you looked right before you stress cried, right before you’d normally turn into his chest and unload everything you’d been holding on to for far too long.

“I’ve tried being nice to you. I’ve tried letting you live your life but the second I started doing that, you stopped letting me live mine. I think you only want me to be happy if you’re the one that’s making me happy and that’s fucked. I lost my best friend over it. I lost the love of my life. It feels like I'm losing everything and I'm starting to think this isn’t the place I need to be anymore.” the latter part of your rant slipped without you even realizing it.

“What are you saying?” you shook your head, chewing on the side of your cheek and deciding not to dive into. Nolan didn’t care, and he was not the person you needed to be talking to about these things.

“Nothing. Forget about it.”

“Y/n. You’ve never been good at opening up but you’re clearly struggling. I know I'm not your first choice right now but I'm the only one that’s here. There was a time when I was your go to person for this sort of thing. So just tell me, what are you talking about?” you stared at him, hesitation evident in the way you were chewing on your tongue.

He was right, though. At one point, he was the person you called when things went wrong. He was the one you unloaded things onto at the end of the day when he asked what was worrying you. You told him your problems, shared your demons with him. If there was anybody who knew how you got when things were ruining you from the inside out, it was Nolan.

“I got a promotion.” a small smile spread across his lips, excitement and pride filling his chest. He always supported your work ventures, and he knew that they were crazy to ever think that you wouldn’t be their top employee sooner or later.

“Y/n that’s great.” you shook your head slowly, heart deflating in your chest before you pushed out the vital information that he hadn’t been looking for.

“It’s in Vancouver.”

He didn’t know what to say. On one hand, he wanted to say no. no, you can’t go to Vancouver. No, you can’t leave Philly behind. No, they don’t need you up there, they need you down here. He wanted to grovel, to fall to his knees and to beg you to stay. Stay in an apartment that he knew like the back of his hand, stay in a city where he knows you’re never too far. He wanted to say that moving to Vancouver was crazy and you’d regret it before you even had time to settle in.

But he couldn’t do that, because the other half of him was louder and logical. You deserved the promotion, deserved the raise that came with it despite where the job was. Nolan knew that Philly held things that you wanted to forget about, reminded you of times in your life that were only painful to think about at this point. You didn’t want to be here anymore, that much Nolan could tell. If you didn’t want to be here, you shouldn’t have to be.

“I think that would be good for you.” it was hard for him to say, tasting just as vile as it was to think about you going to another city.

Would you go to Canucks games? Would he have to see you dressed in blue and green rather than orange and black? Would you start hanging out with the Canucks roster like you did with the Flyers or would you avoid hockey completely? Maybe you’d date one of their players or maybe you’d make sure that anybody even remotely affiliated with hockey stayed far away from you. He didn’t know what the future held for you, but he hoped it was filled with joy and relief from the things you’d endured in Philly.

It hurt you to hear him say it just as much as it hurt him to say it. You could see that there were more thoughts swimming through his mind, that he wasn’t telling you everything he was thinking. Part of you wanted him to beg you to stay, to say that he was single now and everyone knew about the two of you anyway. You wanted him to say that maybe one more shot would finally do the trick, but you knew he wouldn’t and you knew that jumping back into anything with Nolan was far from a good idea.

Then there was Joel. Joel who had feelings for you that you never got the chance to hear about. There was a place for you and Joel, you knew that, but you thought it was unattainable. To be with Joel after everything between you and Nolan, it’d be a catastrophe. There wasn’t a possibility of you going back to being best friends, not when he had feelings for you that weren’t unrequited. You could pour your heart out to Joel, could tell him that you could see yourself falling in love with him if he was willing to be patient with you. But you couldn’t do that either. Not when you had finally come to the conclusion that you needed to move to Vancouver in order to put yourself back together.

That didn’t stop you from looking over your shoulder though, gazing at the boy who was impossible to rid your mind of. His smile made your heart clench, the way his head tilted back and his eyes screwed shut behind his glasses. He was beautiful in every sense of the word and while you loved the sound of a world where the two of you fell in love with zero complications, you knew that you were holding onto false hope.

“You should tell him. I don’t doubt he’ll show up on your doorstep in Vancouver if you don’t.” you laughed gently and turned back to face Nolan, hardly aware of when you had turned away from him. He wore a gentle smile, one that told you that even if you took this step, he would still be here for you. Maybe not in the ways that you previously needed him to be, but there was always room for building a new foundation.

“I will in a bit.” you whispered gently, sinking into your seat and lying your head on Nolan’s shoulder.

You’d miss this; he noisy bunch inside right behind you, the skyline you could see from Tk’s balcony. You’d miss the feeling of being close to Nolan, if only having your head on his shoulder while you sat in silence. You’d miss excitedly running into his apartment with new song recommendations, or him sending you a short playlist he made on the road for you. You’d miss waking up in the middle of the night to him tossing and turning until you brought him painkillers and a tall glass of water.

You’d miss Joel slamming his way into your apartment with a bright smile that meant he was having a dangerous thought. You’d miss the times you’d bring his back to the rink when he forgot it at home, or the way that he brought you lunch on days when you were too busy to send him a simple text that told him you were okay. You’d miss lying your head in his lap and looking up at him with nothing but love in your chest.

You’d miss going to Flyers games and watching your friends do the thing they loved most. You’d miss watching Joel score insane goals that you were always unsure of how he made them. You’d miss wearing Nolan’s Flyers paraphernalia and splitting snacks with Karly.

You’d miss it all, but you had to go. You had to go for you, because Philly isn't home anymore. It would always hold a special place in your heart, but so would all of the people in it. And you knew you needed to lead all of them behind as well.

Even the ones with bright blue eyes that would be burned into your memory for the rest of your life.

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick x reader #nolan x reader #nolpat #joel farabee #joel farabee x reader #joel x reader #beezer #philadelphia flyers #flyers #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nolan patrick imagine #joel farabee imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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mrslilyrogers · 3 years

Text

All I have to do is Dream Part 2

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Telepath! Reader (X-men reader)

Summary: It’s been five years since the snap. You and Steve are stuck at an impasse. You want a family, he doesn’t. He says he’s moved on but has he really? With your doubts growing, you consider risking his trust and use your powers on him to get your answers once and for all.

Author’s note: I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before but reader here has studied at the Xavier Institute so she’s basically part of the X-men. You don’t have to read the comics or watch their movies, it is just part of her background. This is based on Endgame and would follow its progression. If you want to be tagged, please send an ask!! Thank you all for reading!!!

Part 1

Steve’s jaw twitched, his throat muscles working, eyes never leaving the photo on his phone. He pursed his lips and let out a huge exhale, running a hand on his face. What the hell had you done?

Nat didn’t question when he came back to the compound late last night nor when he didn’t show up the morning after, only learning from F.R.I.D.A.Y, he was up earlier than his usual and left. He came back a few hours ago, sweaty and gruff, immediately rushing to lock himself up at the gym. Wallowing there until now.

She had known Steve long enough to know he was blowing off steam. She knew better than to pry, letting him keep to himself until he was ready to talk, and Steve was glad for it. Glad he still had one friend who cared.

What the hell had you done?

—————————-

You jolted from the bed, Steve’s eyes drilling holes in your direction from where he sat stiffly beside you, his mouth pressed into a thin disapproving line. If only looks could kill. You had never seen him so angry in your life. His breath coming in rapid pants, his fists clenched tight at his sides, the muscles around his neck and arms bulging. You felt naked under his gaze, bared to the soul with nowhere to hide. Ironic when just a few moments ago, you had breached into his mind, violating his privacy to the utmost.

“Y/N,” he said, deathly low and lethal, a warning.

“Steve, I’m sorry I didn’t know--” you scrambled to your feet, panic rising up to your throat, cheeks wet with tears.

“Bullshit!” He roared, not letting you finish, shooting up to his feet like the soldier he was. His tightly coiled temper finally unleashed. “You went inside my head! Don’t you fucking give me any excuses!”

In his anger, he threw the analog clock from his bedside table to the floor, breaking it into tiny pieces instantly, the sound of it cracking and your crying the only things filling the air. You didn’t recognize the sobs coming from you, not even knowing if it was from what you’ve just discovered or the way he looked at you now. As if he didn’t know you, as if he could never trust you again.

“I’m sorry,” was all you said. And you were. In every sense of the word. Sorry for yourself, sorry for what you’ve learned, sorry for what you’ve done.

“How could you do this to me?” Steve asked, disbelieving.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just… I overheard you at grief counseling--”

“You what?” He hissed, eyes incredulous and accusing. “Are you fucking spying on me now?” he pointed his finger at you, circling the bed to stand in front of you, his steps quick and long. He looked like he did on missions. One purpose, ready to attack. It was a miracle he kept his fists at his sides instead of shaking you.

“NO! No, I was waiting outside and I heard what you said, and it’s made me think…”

“No, you didn’t think! I told you time and time again, I love you. What more do you fucking need?” His voice grew even louder, exasperation and impatience seeping out of him as if he had been putting up with you for so long.

What more do you need? What more do you need?

“The truth, Steve! I just wanted to know the truth!” You answered back, voice rising in return. The whole time you thought you were only being paranoid, insecure, blaming it on yourself when you weren’t wrong all along. He still wanted her. Yearned for her.

“And are you happy now? You happy that you’ve forced it out of me?” Steve’s tone turned mocking, his eyes hard and jaw tensed. No denial, no guilt. He baited you and if he had enough presence of mind, he wouldn’t have said that, wouldn’t have deliberately gone out of his way to cut you deep. But right at this moment, all he saw was red. He wanted to hurt you, to punch, to scream. His hands shook, in the need to destroy something, to fight someone. Fists bringing out what he couldn’t put forth into words. He knew he had to leave.

You flinched from his words as if you’ve been physically slapped. Eyes full of hurt, you were speechless, immobilized to the spot, no other choice but to take it all in and watch him as he bristled past you, heading to the direction of your shared closet, grabbing his duffel bag and stuffing it with whatever he could get his hands on.

“Wait, where are you going?” your voice was small, hands shaking while you clutched the end of your shirt.

“I can’t even look at you right now,”

“So is this it? Is that all you have to say?” You pleaded, a part of you still hoping he’d deny everything you saw. That it was just all it ever was, a dream. A fantasy from another life. That it didn’t mean anything. That he’d pick you, the one who was here, someone he could actually build a future with. Over a dead woman, a woman who belonged to another decade, another lifetime.

“Since you’re so good at getting into people’s minds, why don’t you tell me?” He taunted, turning his back to you, roughly shoving his toiletries in his bag.

“That’s not fair, Steve!”

“Fair? You want to talk about being fair when you broke my trust! You promised, Y/N. Does that only mean something when it’s convenient to you?” He turned around this time, nostrils flaring, finger pointing offensively at you again. You were so close to him now, could practically feel the heat radiating off his body. And you were scared. You were scared to lose him. Because you knew whatever happened tonight couldn’t be reversed. The things he said, the things you did, there was no going around it anymore.

“Do you want me to say I don’t love Peggy anymore, is that it? Is that what you wanna hear? Because I can’t. I still love her!” His voice boomed around you, shaking you to your core. Fresh, hot tears trailed down your cheeks. You were helpless. Broken.

As soon as the words left him, he knew he’d regret it. At the way you looked, so small and vulnerable, hugging your arms to your chest, his eyes softened, “Y/N…” he moved towards you, hands out to comfort you but you backed away.

Shaking your head vehemently, you took another step back. You didn’t want his touch, didn’t want him near you.

“No, no. Don’t.” you stayed a hand up to stop him. “It’s alright. You’re right,”

“Y/N, that’s not--”

“I think you should leave.” you pointed to the bag already in his hand. Your resolve, sure and strong.

“Y/N, I didn’t--” he tried again, shaking his head. How could he take those words back? Did he not mean them too? God help him but he loved them both.

“Steve, please stop. Just stop. Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” you pleaded, not knowing what else he wanted from you. You gave him an out; clear and easy. Wasn’t that enough? Did he have to hurt you even more?

“I shouldn’t have said those things,” He let out on a sigh, shaking his head. “But sweetheart, please don’t look at me like that,” You looked like a terrified deer, ready to run at the first sign of danger and he couldn’t bear that it was directed at him. He could handle your tenacity, your fire, anything else but the defeated look on your face. It made his heart ache.

He tried again, speaking gently, “Y/N, if you want me to leave for the night, I will. I think you might be right, we need some space after this, clear our heads,”

This time, he went near you and you let him, you let his hands hold your arms like he’s done in past arguments. You let him look you straight in the eye like he’s done so many times before. You let him say his piece, already knowing where it was headed like the back of your hand. You operated like this. Clockwork. When one pushed, the other shoved.

One last time.

“But promise me you’ll be here in the morning to talk. You went inside my head, Y/N, but I wanna work through this. I love you,” he said it like he meant it, his heart on his sleeve but you weren’t so sure you believed him anymore.

“You know I love you, right?” He asked just like the last time. Clockwork.

No. I don’t.

You nodded your head.

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

He tossed and turned that night, the look of hurt on your face scarred in his memory. He knew he shouldn’t have left, knew he should’ve fought to stay.

It was true that he was furious but any animosity he felt immediately simmered after the mention of Peggy. He was way out of line. He wanted to apologize, to pull you into his arms and kiss away the bitter words he spoke but he was still so shaken about what you had done, what you had seen, and so he figured he should let it rest first, giving you both time and space to calm down. Everything looked better in the morning, right?

But your face came unbidden in his mind, he could still remember the exact moment you closed yourself off to him, your eyes hauntingly empty and hollow, shoulders hunched, arms instinctively wrapped to yourself. So small and vulnerable.

He should’ve stayed, dammit!

He let out a grunt as he stared up at the ceiling. He still couldn’t believe you used your abilities on him, couldn’t believe you’d go so far when you’d never ever shied away from asking him anything. Heck, you’d basically proposed to him with all your nagging of starting a family.

Why did you have to see that?

He hissed and shook his head, guilt gnawing in his stomach. Your power was able to force out his deepest dreams and desires. But was that the whole truth? If he hadn’t woken up and you’d stuck a little longer then you would’ve known just how scared and confused he was. What you saw was the Steve who still clung to the past, the part of him that wanted to go back, yearned to go back because it was safer, it was where he truly belonged.

But then again, he wasn’t that same man anymore, was he? Not fully anyway. In more ways than one, he had moved on. For the past couple of years, he did, in fact, envision a future with you. He was going to propose until the snap happened and then, everything changed. He saw his friends, his family, gone to dust. He could still hear Bucky’s echoing words, calling out to him. All those lost souls vanished as if they never existed while he stood, helpless and useless. Why spare him again? Why did he have to go through it all again? Didn’t he have enough pain and loss in one lifetime?

And so he started thinking of the past. The good ol’ days, if you could even really call it that. It started out as a tiny flicker of curiosity. You both had just found a new apartment in New York, it wasn’t all that hard with the sudden vacancies. You were standing in the middle of the room, hands on your hips while he sat at the edge of the bed his head bowed, elbows resting on his knees.

“Steve, we need to start thinking of the future. I know it’s hard but they’re not coming back and we can’t keep doing what we’re doing. We can get away from all this, you know, start a new life. Don’t you want that too?”

He swallowed a lump in his throat. He wanted to fight, to try again and again until he got everyone back. He was grieving, angry, and above all, guilty. Why couldn’t he do what he was made for in the first place? How did he let all of this happen? And why, for god’s sake, why did he have to survive while the others vanished?

But you were right. Of course, you were right. The ever practical and optimistic you. He looked at you with tired eyes, not wanting to argue, and nodded his head. He still had you, that was a win. For every shitty thing that happened since, at least you were alive and he wouldn’t trade that for the world but some jaded, cynical part of him questioned how long that would last. The universe clearly had a bone to pick with him and it was only a matter of time before you were taken from him too and that scared the living shit out of him.

And so he had started to wonder what if?

What if he never had to wake up from the ice? What if he never had to crash the plane in the first place? What if he was where he was really supposed to be?

All those questions drifted down into one person, the one that got away. Peggy. She was his link to the past, everything that was sweet and wonderful. The dance he missed, the future he wanted when everything settled down into peace after the war. Peace. As ironic as that sounded, she reminded him of peace. The little dream he had in the back of his head whenever he infiltrated a nazi base camp. Every mission, every fight, he would think one more of this and the war would be over, one more and I get back to her. Peace.

He craved for that peace so much, he didn’t even realize what he had been doing. He lived in that dream, longing for the time he could never get back. All the while you were hurting, so desperately trying to cling on to him while he slipped into himself. You needed him but he continued to chase the life he lost, for all his talk of moving on. He didn’t even realize how his fear of losing you has led him down to the very verge of it and now, he was anxious and afraid. So so afraid. You wouldn’t leave him, would you? God, he’d do anything, drop everything, to follow you.

That realization just made his head spin, was he really willing to let everything go just like that? Of course, he was. There was no question about it. Nothing else mattered if it meant losing you. It was a damned shame he only realized that now.

We can work through this, he thought to himself. He couldn’t let you go, wouldn’t let you go. It didn’t even matter what you had done anymore, not right now, not when all he wanted was for you to know everything, that above all, he was choosing you. He loves you.

I’ll make this work. We’ll make this work.

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

He stared at his friend’s face, her red hair already outgrowing the blonde curls that framed her frowning face. She couldn’t believe it. Hell, even he didn’t believe it. How could you?

Before the sun had even risen, he was already up, tying his shoelaces with his jittery hands. He had never been so nervous in his life. Not even when he had to crash his own plane, with that came a sense of doom and certainty but this? This was torture. This was hell.

What was he going to say? How was he going to explain himself? What could he do to make you stay?

What you had done the night before, invading his most private thoughts, had been pushed to the side. In his heart, he had already forgiven you, understood why you had to do what you did. He knew you, the kind of person you were and you would never have done it had you not thought it was necessary. And with everything that he’s done and what you heard, could he really judge you for it?

He rushed into the apartment, his heart already heavy. He couldn’t find it in himself to wait until you woke up and instead gave a tentative, “Y/N?” as he poked his head into the bedroom door, the sight of it knocking the air right out of him.

No, no, no, no, no.

The neatly made up bed greeted him, curtains drawn back to illuminate the empty room. His heart dropped to his stomach, “No, no, no, no, no,”

“Y/N?” he shouted into the room, somehow hoping he was mistaken, that you were still here, that you’d show up.

Did you really leave him? Could you really have done that?

He ran to the bathroom, calling out to you, but it was the same as he had left it. Except all of your stuff was gone. Your toiletries by the sink, all the little hair ties you kept lying around. Gone.

How could you do this to him? How could you leave without saying goodbye?

All the clothes he had always folded for you after you tossed them in the closet weren’t there anymore. Any trace of you was now gone. He let out a curse, his cold hand fumbling for his phone in his pocket. No messages, no calls.

“Come on, pick up,” He prayed into the phone. Please, please, please. When the monotonous operator answered, he let out a shout,

“Fuck!”

Throwing his phone unto the bed, he realized even the clock he had thrown in his temper had been cleaned away, a letter laid down on where it was supposed to be.

He picked it up quickly, his breathing rapid at the two simple words scrawled in your distinct handwriting.

I’m sorry.

Crumbling the paper in his fist, he shakily put it to his pale lips. Breathe...

What were you thinking? You couldn’t have even left a number to contact you? How was he supposed to find you now? He felt himself grow weak in the knees. He knew the type of training you had with the X-men, if you didn’t want to found, you wouldn’t.

Had he lost you forever?

Hands shaking at the thought, he ran. Ran to get away from his emotions. Lost, angry and hurt. What the hell had you done?

What the hell had you done?

Natasha let out an exhale, bringing him out of his reverie. The look of hurt still evident on her face, she couldn’t believe you’d just leave without saying goodbye.

“If there’s one thing I know is that she loves you. You need to fix this, Steve,”

Before he could even reply, the front gate’s access flashed before her. Mindlessly swiping it, they both turned to the monitor, their minds still preoccupied on where you could be. The man standing outside, waving his arms about looked eerily familiar but that couldn’t be...

Scott Lang?

Oh god, what now?

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #avengers #marvel #marvel fic #captain america #captain america angst

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y0itsbri · 3 years

Text

Falling for You

ballet au one-shot for @gallavichthings 's a.u.gust

summary: dance instructor mickey! ian keeps messing up the lifts with the dancers, and mickey cannot have his girls injured because of this himbo, even if he is hot. he makes ian stay after class to practice on him -- and he swears there's no ulterior motives. but they're so close and his hands are all over him and he can feel his breath and it is so unprofessional but fuck it.

words: 2k

Mickey had a new guy in his class that wasn't doing... well... by any standards. Alright, the dude sucked. Mickey had been a ballet instructor for several years and not once has he met a dancer as uncoordinated and unbalanced as Ian fucking Gallagher.

Somehow, Ian had managed to not only rip the ballet barre off of the goddamn wall in his attempt at a grand plie, fallen flat on his face after pas de chat gone wrong, but he also managed to launch his fellow ballerinas onto the floor instead of the air.

He was a disaster.

Mickey had better shit to do with his time at the studio than patch up his dancers, and studio, after Gallagher's classes. Svetlana's father would have his ass if she got injured on his watch. And Ian being the only guy in their class, there was no way for him not to share the front-and-center spotlight with Svetlana.

Yeah, Mickey wasn't letting Ian any-fucking-where near Svet if he could help it. At least in his current state. Dude was a piece of work.

Mickey figured he would be a lot more upset about all this if Ian's apologetic puppy dog eyes weren't so goddamn convincing.

Fucking Gallagher.

"Ayo, Mands! Come help me with this!" Mickey called, echoing in the studio, now nearly empty besides the Milkovich siblings and a six-foot-tall ginger man looking both utterly clueless and utterly terrified. Mickey was utterly hopeless.

Mandy popped in the doorframe, sliding her shoes on but leaving them untied.

"Can't! I got actual shit to do! I don't live and breathe the studio like your sorry ass. No offense, Ian, my brother is great, please stay. Full offense, Mickey, get a fucking life!"

Mickey was left speechless and slightly embarrassed by Mandy's outburst and only managed to flip her off before she was out the door.

"Charming sister you got there," Ian let a quiet laugh slip before schooling his expression at Mickey's lack of amusement.

Mickey sighed and rubbed his hands down the length of his face for a moment. Ian and Mickey held eye contact a bit longer before Mickey abruptly straightened up and clapped his hands together. The noise startled Ian from his own amused trance.

"Alright, Clifford, how do you feel about private lessons for a little bit until you're not tripping over your own feet?"

Ian stepped forward to argue, but, proving Mickey's point, stumbled over the shoes on the floor in front of him. He didn't miss the way that Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side.

"Can't afford extra classes," Ian shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

"It's on me," Mickey swiped his top lip. He didn't miss the way that Ian's gaze lingered on his mouth,"Kinda need you..." really want you, "to, uh, look good..." as if he doesn't already, fucking red-headed alien-looking motherfucker, "on the floor..." of my bedroom, goddamn it, Mick, get it together! "the, uh, dance floor."

Ian paused, considering the way that Mickey was stumbling over his words in a way that one might call endearing, another might call the-worst-fucking-experience-of-his-life.

"I'll do it."

Do me. Seriously, go drink some water, oh my god.

Mickey literally took a sip from his water bottle, hoping that it would at least calm his nerves. He was a professional!

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You free after class?" A pause, "To work on some skills, I mean."

"It's a date," Ian smirked, leaning down to pick up his shoes from the ground in front of him. By the time he was upright again, Mickey had already started walking away, but the blush on his cheeks and the back of his neck could be spotted from a mile away. He was utterly fucked.

Mickey yawned and got up from his stretching position on the floor. He walked over to the stereo, systematically knocking his dancer's feet on his way over until they were all turned out and pointed.

"No Orange Boy today?" Svetlana asked, meeting Mickey's eyes with a challenging stare.

Mickey ignored the chorus of "He's so hot!" "Have you seen his arms?" and "Ian's the nicest!" from the rest of the girls.

Svetlana raised her eyebrow in question and Mickey's defenses flew out the window. This goddamn power dynamic was going to be the death of him.

"I put him on private lessons until he's no longer a disruption to the class," he shrugged.

"Aww," one brunette pouted.

"Disruption to class or disruption to tiny bulge in your pants?" Svetlana smirked, earning some scandalized gasps from the other dancers.

Mickey flipped her off, "The fucker made me take out a greater insurance policy with all his accidents, don't be fucking absurd."

A blonde nodded understandingly from the back of the class, "My ankle is still a little funky from the last lift we tried."

Mickey held his arms out in a display of I-told-you-so and Svetlana rolled her eyes.

"Great!" Mickey clapped his hands together, earning the full attention of his class as they hurried to their feet, "Now that all the hot drama is outta the air, let's do a quick warm up combo across the floor. Chasse step pas de bourree double pirouette step arabesque, in 5, 6, 7, 8..."

Ian had been waiting outside the studio for the last ten minutes of class, more-so watching his instructor shift around than paying attention to what the dancers were actually doing. That's probably what got him into his current predicament, and he couldn't decide whether that was a curse or a blessing. Mickey's arms flexed as he pointed across the room to call out someone's weak spot.

Yup, it was a blessing.

Oh shit, Mickey was looking his way. Was this a double sided mirror? No, of course not. Why would there be a double sided mirror? Oh, Mickey was definitely staring at him. Fuck. Wait, did he just wink? No way, he must've just blinked. With one eye. Yeah, totally normal. Nothing to overthink, Ian.

Get it together!

Mickey dismissed his class five minutes early and it had nothing to do with the Jolly Ginger Giant standing outside his studio.

While most of his dancers wordlessly accepted the easy out, Svetlana stayed back to taunt. "Have fun with private lessons," she sneered, jerking off an invisible cock.

"Choke on it," Mickey retorted tossing her warm-up jacket at her face, which she swiftly caught.

Svetlana turned and made a show of looking Ian up and down, his cheeks turning pink under her intense gaze. She faced Mickey head on, "You will be vegetable stew by the time this man is done with you."

The fuck does that mean?

Sometimes Mickey thought that Svetlana spoke in riddles just to mess with him. He blamed it on the Russian accent, never mind he was part Ukrainian himself. The languages were similar, but not identical, fuck you very much.

But, damn, forget that, Gallagher looked good. He was wearing his usual white tank top and grey sweatpants, but Mickey never got the opportunity to openly ogle in class. Not that that was what he was doing now.

Ian returned the long look appreciatively before stepping closer and Mickey snapped back into professionalism, well as far as professionalism goes, Milkovich-style.

He turned his back on the bane of his pathetic existence and snapped a quick but polite, "Get your shoes on and we can get started."

"Oh, right."

That seemed to be enough to get the gears in Ian's head going again as he dropped his bag to the floor, echoing in the truly empty studio, and dropping down onto the floor himself to secure his ballet shoes, which may as well be clown shoes for as big as his feet were. Mickey fit into the same brand as the girls, but he had to order special for Gallagher.

"Thanks for doing this, Mickey."

Mickey. The way that this man said his name was making him feel all sorts of flustered that he would most definitely deny.

"Mandy said you don't usually make exceptions."

"Gotta catch you up to speed or you're gonna be dancing with the 5 year-olds, man."

Ian tilted his head considering.

Mickey frowned, "Don't do it."

Ian smirked and Mickey had to look away as a grin and blush creeped up on his own face.

"Alright, so we'll start you off with the basics."

Mickey went through their normal class routine, but broke it down slowly, pausing to explain certain positions in details he couldn't afford to spend time with in class, specifically how not to fall. It should have been fairly obvious in his opinion, but Ian still managed somehow. The first few times, he was on the floor before Mickey even knew he was going down.

But the third, Mickey made a mistake. Mickey instinctively reached out to catch him.

As soon as he realized where his hands were, he pulled them off like he'd been burned, which he may have well been. He pulled his gaze to his feet, studying the floor while he composed himself.

"Mickey," Ian waited until he looked up, and then he spoke so quietly, "You can touch me."

And what made things worse was that Ian's dazzling eyes left little to the imagination. They both knew where this was going, and the moment was too intense too quick. The longer their eyes held, the hotter Mickey felt his neck grow.

"Ya know," Ian stepped closer. "To fix my positions..."

Mickey swallowed, "Uh, I think we're done for today."

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He never meant them to begin with. But if Ian stayed any longer, Mickey was going to climb him like a tree and that really wasn't under his personal code of professionalism, no matter how loose those terms may be to begin with. It was getting late anyways, he reasoned with himself.

"What about the lifts? That's the important part, right?" Ian questioned, eyes pleading like he would die without this one skill being taught to him by his oh-so-unprofessional instructor.

Mickey sighed. Ya know what? Fuck it.

Mickey sauntered over to Ian, pressed his back to Ian's front, and grabbed one of Ian's massive hands and placed it on his own waist.

Ian gave an experimental squeeze and Mickey softened in his grip.

Ridiculous.

"We're not doing the lift are we?" Ian murmured breathily, hot air making the hairs on the back of Mickey's neck tingle.

"What do you think, Firecrotch?" Mickey pushed his weight back into Ian's chest, which would be the second mistake of the day.

Ian toppled over backwards, landing with a painful sounding thud and sending Mickey down on top of him before he rolled off the the side with a groan.

Ian started laughing and Mickey was concerned. Was this idiot actually fucking concussed this time? He wasn't sure how he would explain this to his insurance company.

Mickey straddled Ian's lap, gently slapping his face, "Are you good, man? Alive?"

"Never better." Ian was still smiling like an absolute goof.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in concern.

"Seriously, I just can't play things cool," Ian raised his hips to grind against Mickey's ass, "Obviously."

"You're an idiot," Mickey rolled his eyes, and all Ian could do was grin and reach up towards Mickey's neck, pulling his down until their lips almost touched, sharing breaths and excitement.

"Maybe," another breath, "But I still got you to fall for me."

It was Mickey's turn to laugh, more of a raspy exhale than anything. His "fuck you" was almost lost between them as they fell together at last.

(side note: this was the lift that they were going to do, so i feel like the hand on the waist makes sense -- gotta have a visual lmao)

#i might have an idea for a sequel/series if anyone is interested: mandy pov of this and another one shot in their relationship era???#who knows #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #mandy milkovich #ian x mickey #shameless fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #svetlana yevgenivna #my posts

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dorimena · 3 years

Text

𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘

I should've been writing Bakugou’s late birthday post, but after watching the new episode a few days ago, I couldn’t help but finally confirm to myself that yes, I have a growing liking towards Kuroiro and couldn’t help myself. So, enjoy?

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; kuroiro shihei

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 2.6

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; afab!reader, handjob, masturbation, kuroiro’s a voyeur for you, subby!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; sex toys mentioned, aged up character; Kuroiro is 18

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; there isn’t much Kuroiro content, as far as I managed to find here, less if it’s smut. So, here we go, hopefully I make more. I still have much to learn on how to probably correctly portray him, in other words I feel like he’s a bit ooc.

He likes to hide in the shadows, whether as a harmless prank, to travel from one place to another, but it’s mostly to just easily sneak into your dorm room at night.

Right now, though, he’s still lurking in the shadows of your room, just watching you study at such an ungodly hour, just because you were upset with him accidentally scaring you the other day. He didn’t mean to, but the damage had been done. At least you didn’t leave your dorm room light on to stop him, just sitting there, all pretty, with the desk lamp.

He has no plans leaving the comfort of the shadows yet, not with how it helps not only hide his cute, creepy smile, but to not show off how hard he is. And for what?

All because you’re wearing the shortest shorts you could ever own, and he loves how your legs look with them on; so much longer, increasing how enticing and inviting they look, whether for him to trace words of dramatized affection or leave bite marks before he pleases you to sleep.

Then again, he’s not here to woo you with poetry; he’s here to apologize, for maybe the 6th time this week, and maybe convince you to cuddle on your bed before he’d have to sneak back to his room. After all, he has been leaving you small trinkets and gifts all this time since the incident, and you’ve never really uninvited him over, simply barely acknowledging him before you whisper ‘goodnight’, as if you’d think he’d never hear.

It kind of hurt, but he couldn’t blame you, and maybe it’s time he stops trying to scare you as a form to rile you up into some ‘fun’. There are other ways, right? He can come up with another scheme to make you angry enough to maybe choke him harder, scratch him harder, maybe slap him harder?

“Y/n~” He calls out your name as melodically as possible, as if trying to act like a siren to lure you here into the darkest corner of your room. All he sees, though, is you shuddering before hunching yourself more over your desk.

You only move your head in acknowledgment, humming softly as you turn a page in your book to continue highlighting. This makes him frown, racking his brain for any remark to make you look over here, look over at him. Please.

“My beloved, look at me?” He calls again, using the pet name you enjoy hearing; but you still don’t look over.

So, being the little shit he can be, he calls you out by something he rarely does, unless he’s meticulously teasing you for something in return. A certain name he knew made you flattered but embarrassed.

“Hot stuff, look at me.”

And that has you turning around to look at his favorite corner, narrowing your eyes to catch the sight of his white eyes and teeth. To many, this would make them shit themselves, but for you, it angers you just how proud he looks.

“What did you say?”

There it is, now you’re angry and riled up. And he shudders, feeling tremors going up his body until it reaches his head. He peeks his head out, his white hair finally being seen as he hums.

“Hot stuff, but this time, come here?”

You stand, not before grumpily placing your highlighter in between the pages and pushing your chair quite the distance from your desk. Walking towards him, you cross your arms as you stand intimidatingly close, staring at him as you quietly wait for whatever poem he has prepared this time.

You’ve heard them all, wondering if he knew how you’d stop whatever you were doing to listen closely what he whispers, murmurs, sings out.

But instead, Kuroiro leaves from the shadows and pulls you into a tight hug, a hand resting on your head as he murmurs how sorry he is, how he’s come to reflect his past actions from the incident and previous ones, finally taking into consideration your feelings and possible thoughts. But not without telling you how he’ll compromise his pranks with you as it spices up your relationship from the others in the dorm. He leaves out the part about riling you up until you choke him during sex.

Even if his voice sounds so quiet, so calming in your ear, you can’t help but shift a bit in his embrace until he suddenly goes quiet, a simple hitch of his breath grabbing your attention. What happened?

“Shi?” You ask, looking at him. Whatever anger was in your system quickly drained, in fear you might’ve accidentally hurt him. And what sucks about his quirk is that you can’t ever tell when he’s blushing, but only guess with how his eyes and mouth look.

You feel him grind back- wait, what?

Somehow looking down, you come to see a tent growing in his white sweatpants, poking at your leg.

“How… curious.” You hum, placing your hands on his hips to keep him still.

“Is this new or did you come with this? Is this why you’re apologizing so directly?”

He stutters, his embrace tightening as he subtly tries pressing himself harder against you. He doesn’t deny what you’re telling him, but he also doesn’t confess it’s the truth.

You’re giggling, and even though it’s cute, like, really-cute-he-can’t-wait-to-smother-you-in-kisses, he groans at your slight teasing.

“My beloved. Don’t laugh at my predicament! I cannot help but give way to the temptation placed in front of me.”

Oh, how lovely. But he has a point. You did put on these shorts to simply rile him out of the dark instead of lurk in and around it, but clearly you were still lured in by his, uh, interesting choice of nickname.

“Why’d you call me hot stuff?”

“To get your attention, which is apparently clear to me, it very much worked.”

“You wanted my attention to deal with you or your friend?”

“Both.” Humor sounds in his voice upon your question, pressing his forehead on your shoulder as he joins in on you staring at, well, his erection.

“Well,” you start, startling him as you push him against the wall, “do you want me to talk dirty or speak Shakespearean?”

“Oh, for the love of- mmnh~”

Now, he’s not… much of a sub, not really. But he compromises so well, so nicely, that even if he is a sly motherfucker, he can also somehow weave his agreement in something through his words. Or actions, like now. You’re in command, you can do as you please, he owes it to you. Either way, he’ll still be able to ask you about choking him.

But your thigh rubbing up and down so teasingly against his crotch? Not what he expected. Since when do you start slow?

But you’re starting with that for now, wanting to milk out what you could of his sounds, his twitches, his reactions. You love it when he shivers.

“Stop teasing.” Kuroiro breathes out, letting go of the hug as his arms fall against the wall, his back and head creating a soft thud as he stares at your head. You haven’t looked up yet, but better for him. He doesn’t… want to look too creepy now, not with how he’s blending so well with the dark..

“I thought I could do what I want?”

“Yes, but- hah~ Stop that!”

“Stop what? This?”

“Interrupting me- ah fuck.”

You keep pressing yourself harder and harder against him, the speed never-changing, but it’s enough for him to already let out such airy moans and small groans. His hips are slowly lowering themselves to keep adding more pressure, moving them subtly to fasten the speed. This doesn’t skip your attention.

“You’re this turned on?”

“Can’t help it.” A soft groan leaves him as he grinds down a certain way, enough to make his knees feel a little weaker. “Needed you, days ago. Couldn’t…”

Oh? He’s embarrassed?

“Couldn’t what?”

“... make myself cum- hnn.”

You giggle again, the sound making him lay his palms flat on the wall in case he’d need to escape something embarrassing. But you know better than to tease him verbally, not wanting to make him become too shy that he’ll ignore you, whether or not you’re his lover now. He’s always been and will be such a shy boy, yet a sneaky bitch. Such duality.

You stop moving your leg and hold him as still as possible, lifting up your head to look him in the eyes. He doesn’t look or shy away.

“You’re cute, you know that? You couldn’t look me in the eyes before we dated, and now you have the audacity to come every night asking for forgiveness, but for what? Truly because you miss me, or just to get your dick wet and satisfied?”

You’re waiting for an answer, your hands diligently moving to pull down his pants slowly.

“I… I missed you, my beloved. I felt incredibly lonely. Even the moonlight that’d enter my room wouldn’t sing me the same song your humming would, or reflect such beauty you seem to radia- holy shit.”

It took what you had of self-control to not laugh: such words being interrupted by such a vulgar phrase. Good thing he’s not heavily religious, or that Ibara was around. She sometimes… worries you, with her affinity with religion.

Your hand is fondling about with his brief-clad dick, making sure the fabric seeps out the precum you could feel, but sadly not see. For some, this could be a turn off, not being able to see a dick; but for you, it just adds to the mystery, adds with how sexy you could even see Kuroiro be.

There’s no more words exchanged, not with how you’re enjoying the feeling of his hips pushing themselves to make him feel more of your hand and thigh, have you do something to add more to his pleasure. His white sweatpants are hanging around his thighs by now, his underwear soon enough being pulled down enough to follow.

A huff of ‘hurry’ leaves his mouth, leaving you confused about what the hurry is about? What happened to being patient? Or is he seriously so hung up with not being able to cum this week that he just needs to? Wait, that's actually hot.

Nodding your head, you smile up at him as one of your hands wraps itself around him and the other pressing its palm to the tip of his dick.

“I’ll be quick, just hold on, yeah?”

Nodding, his eyes immediately close when you squeeze him, your palm slowly figuring out what motion would make him moan faster.

When he moans your name out loud with the circular motion, you press a kiss on his lips before doing it again, and again, and again. Faster every time, spreading his precum around while your other hand tries to pick up into a steady pace without messing up the rhythm.

Kuroiro’s using the back of his hand to keep himself from whimpering out, moaning, huffing and groaning but not wanting to embarrass himself further with such a weak-like noise. But seeing him struggle with that issue is enough to let it go, pressing your knee between his legs and against the wall to keep yourself balanced.

Faster, faster, faster. Your hands seem to keep moving impossibly faster as the room slowly fills with wet sounds, soft thumps of his hips helping place more rhythm.

He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, keeping them shut even if he feels like watching what you’re even doing with him, to him.

But instead, with his eyes closed, his brain decided to bring up what he saw a few days ago:

You didn’t even notice he snuck into your room, or bothered turning off your desk lamp as you lay shamelessly on your bed, pussy out for him to watch as you work a black dildo in you and your other hand placing a small vibrator on your clit.

And you were whining out his name so shamelessly, as if you knew he was watching. (And you did.) Again, you were fucking yourself with a black dildo, just as black as him. And that should’ve been enough for him to maybe relieve himself right then and there, or even beg for forgiveness as you grew closer and closer to your own orgasm. Fuck him, not a dildo! Or let him fuck you while you choke his dirty talk out of his throat!

Instead, Kuroiro quickly left and travelled back to his room, throwing himself on his bed as he almost ripped his pants and underwear off, fucking himself in his hands as he tries to convince himself that he’s fucking you, and even with a precum covered hand, he tried recreating how you usually choke him, claw at him, scratch him.

And he would very much like to fuck you now, but with how you’re touching him, the way your palm is grinding itself incredibly fast around his tip and your other hand furiously jacking him off, he thinks it’s not worth the idea yet. Not when he knows you’re forgiving him, somehow.

He’s about to cum anyways.

He’s trying to grab the wall, as if the darkness would be something he could grab onto like a bedsheet to keep him still, but it does nothing, just make his hands ‘melt’ into it.

His hips are chasing after your hands yet pulling itself away as his knees try not to knock into each other. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, soft sighs leaving with a small moan as an accessory.

And his eyes? He finally opens them, looking from the ceiling to then catch you staring up at him with your own smile, making his reminiscent one fade away as a whole new wave of arousal travels up his body.

Shuddering harshly, he feels his eyes cross a bit as a repeat of his earlier flashback plays, and plays, and plays. The sounds, the scene, the smell of your arousal-

“Y/n- I ahh think- close?”

“Sorry, didn’t understand that. You’re close?”

He just nods rapidly, blinking as he tries to keep his eyes opened to make eye contact, because for him, it’s sexy, it’s intimate, it’s reassuring.

He hears someone letting out weak whimpers, but he thought it was you, until he lets out a louder one and startles himself.

“Again, Shihei, again.” You moan out, feeling your underwear stick itself more to your cunt.

And if your moan of his name wasn’t enough to make him whimper your name back, he’s sure your sweet, sultry encouragement is enough to make his eyes cross once again, forcing him to close his eyes as his hungry hips just downright try fucking your hands without any shame.

He’s grunting how close he is, moans straining in his throat before being caught up in an intake of air, his whole body entering a strong tremor before small yet growing waves of them make him shiver. Without him realizing, his body’s slowly ‘melting’ into the dark, sinking into it as he groans out how he’s cumming.

You watch, taking your hands away from his dick as he spurts thin trails onto the floor, some onto his lowered sweatpants. But even once he’s done, his dick is still hard and twitching.

“What?” He’s confused. He’s not supposed to stay hard. You’ve already made him cum, but why does he feel so unsatisfied?

“M-my beloved?” He whispers, suddenly realizing how he’s more into the walls than pressing against them. Taking himself out of the dark and leaning back against the wall, he brings a hand to your face just as you grin wickedly.

“I think I ruined your orgasm.”

Well shit. Now what, you’re gonna try overstimulating him now? Well, with the way you're going on your knees and bringing him into your mouth, enough to make him wince yet moan, he’s pretty sure tonight he won’t get to fuck you.

#bnha smut #mha smut #kuroiro smut #kuroiro x reader #ლ; blasphemy #𝖐𝖚𝖗𝖔𝖎𝖗𝖔

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tarithenurse · 3 years

Text

In the eyes

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Uchiha Itachi x fem!reader Content: Feels. Angst. Loss. Love. Reference to killing (war and murder). Captivity. Sorrow. Hope. Anger. You name it, it’s there. A/N: I just want to say in my defence that this story isn’t my fault. Blame @maladaptive-ninja-returns...it’s her birthday present (yes, I’m late)!

In the eyes

The steam is long gone together with your interest in the drink when you drain the cup of tea as the black-haired man gets up to leave. The cape hides what he’s missing – if only it was his leg instead – that way you wouldn’t have to keep the distance to the bare minimum, constantly risking him discovering that you’re following him. It doesn’t help to complain, though: he’s alive and mobile...and you have to watch your every move.

Volunteering for the assignment has probably been one of the more masochistic choices you’ve made, but you just couldn’t let the last Uchiha go yet.

For years, watching the kid grow older had kept a wound alive that no one knew about. It festered, saturating you with a sickening, rotten, sadness that never washed off but wasn’t detected by your peers. You should have let it heal. Should have moved on. But there had always been something keeping you from accepting what everyone else had decided must be true.

You weren’t the only one dealing with grief, of course. The life of a Leaf ninja was to say goodbye too soon and then to live with the numbing ache, renewed each time memories stirred.

Before the fourth war, the newfangled gossip of the dead returning was treated as ghost stories by most people until the climax of it all, when too many stood face to face with loved ones. Lost ones. And you were too weak to prevent the hope from being rekindled, so once peace was a reality and all the shinobis prepared to celebrate in the chaotic haze of the aftermath, you made a decision.

That is why, three seconds after the door closes behind Uchiha Sasuke, you get up...

...and sit right down again to avoid pressing against the sharp blade of the person suddenly appearing beside you.

The newcomer’s face is hidden partially under the wide-rimmed hat and the rest behind a dark and tattered cloak. Glancing down, a hand with purple-painted nails slips the kunai into the darkness of the cloak, leaving you with the knowledge that it’s there.

There’s no doubt in your mind that this is a shinobi. Where did you come from? Admittedly, there are others frequenting the little tea house because it’s a popular stop at a major crossroads...even if it mainly services those without national affiliations. None of the rest of the clientele reacts to the scene unfolding discreetly and you have no wish to catch their attention before you know what and who you’re dealing with.

“What do you want?”

It takes a second before you realize the question isn’t asked by you. Another one to recover from the smooth dusk that is the stranger’s voice. A voice with a hint of familiarity in the timbre which you decide must be your mind playing games.

“Nothing. I’m no enemy of yours,” you try to placate them, silently counting the seconds worth of head start separating you from Sasuke, “and I hold nothing of value...you should let me go.”

The tickle of a laugh surprises you. “If I’d wanted your possessions, they’d already be mine. I want answers, Konoha-girl.”

The headband you carry is hidden under your clothes, well out of sight from any prying eyes. Finally giving up on stalking your initial target, you turn your undivided attention to the person who has seated them-self before you.

The little skin you can see is pale, and a few black strands have escaped the slack ponytail and fallen in front of the face where only chin and jawline is visible. As if knowing your annoyance, the head is tipped slightly, allowing you to glimpse soft, gently smiling lips. Kissable. The thought jars you.

“I recommend you give up that wish.” No one should be able to hear the nervousness in your voice...but the stranger smirks. “My business is my own.”

“Not when it involves him,” they says, inclining the hat towards the door where Uchiha left.

You’re out to get him? You almost feel sorry for this fool who clearly doesn’t have a clue about the one-armed ninja’s identity.

“Don’t be mistaken,” the person smiles as if reading your thoughts, “I know who he is and what he’s capable of, after all...he’s my brother.”

Calmly meeting your gaze, the eyes meeting you flash red.

...

“Don’t look an Uchiha in the eyes”. It was the warning that was whispered into your ears as soon as you were big enough to run errands on your own. Naturally, you had to do it, and what met you was not as demonic as the warning stories had made you think – rather, they were kind, and wiser than the smooth face hinted at – although you never looked another Uchiha in the eyes just to be on the safe side.

It was impossible to discern the colour. Some days, they seemed leaden as if the rain clouds were gathered inside the boy too. A few times, in the morning when he watched where his fists struck the wood, the sparks from the cozy fire of the evening before still lingered in the warmest of black. What you loved the most, though, was when the gaze was locked onto infinity and they were soft like liquid.

...

Everything is different: the stuffy tea room with its noisy patrons has been replaced by somewhere deserted that seems to be carved out of grey stone.

How did I get here? Careful to move as little as possible, you take in the new surroundings only to find the place empty and with only one way in and out. A dull cold has already seeped into your feet as you stand there, lost as your bearings have nothing to latch on to – the only light is a torch in a wall sconce to your left.

Feet. They are bare, and a quick pat-down reveals that all of your weapons, your belt, and your headband have been stripped from you too. The sensation is uncanny, akin to nakedness. The logic behind it is obvious as it reduces the chances of a successful escape even if you were to make it out and establish a route.

On the other hand: you’re unharmed and unbound.

Turning, you have no doubt that the wooden door is locked but of course you go over to try, heart frozen near your throat when you push against it with your shoulder. Surprisingly, it does open and the screaming hinges sets the tiniest hairs on your body on end.

“Not wasting any time, Konoha-girl.”

You recognize the voice and the decorated nails on the hand that appears to pull open the door completely, and not just from the rest stop but from years of aching recollections that have been warped by watching Sasuke grow up with this man’s shadow lingering over his life. Over your life.

No. There’s no way. He died. Now your heart jackhammers a frenzied rhythm.

It’s a fool’s hope that powers the jab towards his neck. An idiot’s dream urging you to sprint past him. At least I tried, a bitter thought comments the moment both attempts are thwarted as a rib-crushing kick sends your tumbling backwards and you land sprawled in the middle of the room.

The ceiling is still spinning, it seems, when you sense the man’s presence loom over you. The fingers are cool (and surprisingly gentle) as the curl around the back of your skull, fingers digging into your hair to grant a tight grip to pull you closer by. Very close. A hand’s length separates the tips of your noses and you want to be oblivious to the way his mouth curves softly.

“You’re not leaving,” he whispers, “until I say so.”

Feeling and strength are beginning to return to your arms, including a sharp ache in your chest that grows with every shallow breath which you try to ignore. Should have restrained me, fool...and the thought dies there as everything shifts and the ground swallows your limbs.

“N-no...how...? No!”

He watches your struggles lazily before releasing his grip and sitting down next to you on the hard floor. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

But you did. Wait...no! You haven’t...it wasn’t you...it can’t have been...

“You lie about your identity,” you scoff, regretting the outburst immediately as pain stabs coldly into your side, “so excuse me for not trusting you on this either.” There is a little smile there on his lips, full of sadness and regret that makes your insides cringe momentarily until you have the breath to explain to him (or yourself) why it can’t be true: “Uchiha Itachi has been killed!”

“Yes...and then I was brought back.” He’s impossibly calm as though he’s simply discussing the weather. “Twice.”

Double reanimated? As if! The war had been a horror to live through and would have been without people facing their deceased comrades and family members on the battlefield. However, once destroyed or sealed, none of the animated dead had walked again and all of them had been dealt with properly in the end.

Looking at the ninja, none of the signs of reanimation are prominent. On the other hand...even if they had been, you might not even notice it now that you meet the man’s gaze and the liquid infinity there.

“I could show you...but I’m afraid your mind can’t take the strain in your current state,” the so-called Itachi explains.

Mind, your aching heart still reels from fear of being broken once more, this is all in my mind.

Zoning out everything else, you focus on the flow of chakra within. Calming it, soothing it, until abruptly forcing the flow to revert. It feels as if your very soul drops for a second but the moment it returns to its place, the world is no longer made up of lies and imaginary sensations...and you’re still lying on the ground in a room made of stone, your ribs feeling as if they’re speared by frost. The only improvement is that at least your limbs are free.

And Itachi? Yes, you have to call him that because deep within you can’t deny it any longer.

The official reports hadn’t been released by the time you left Konoha and you’re not high enough up in the ranks as a shinobi to get the juicy information unless it’s necessary for a mission – and since your missions tend to be B or simpler A rank...well, I guess my current mission’s a bust but this is an important discovery!

A silky chuckle refocuses your attention. “Very good...I suppose I must strengthen my genjutsu against you.”

He’s so close, you could touch him. Shifting to lean against the wall, he rests his arms casually on the knees and begins to pick at the chapping nail polish.

“No need to,” you bite back a groan as you roll over to sit up, “I take it that’s how you got me here?” Pretty eyes are watching your every move as he nods in agreement. “Hm. It’ll probably be useless to ask where we are, so...why? Why show yourself now?”

Sitting cross legged, you find the pain lessens if you pull your clothes and arms tightly around your torso, restricting the depth of your breathing. Broken or bent ribs? Not that it really matters. First of all, he would be able to beat you in a fight anyways; secondly, even if you got out of here you wouldn’t know where “here” is; and third (but not least), you don’t really want to run from him.

Rather than answer, Itachi stands up and holds out his left hand for you. Puzzled, you take it. Soft fingers curl around yours and he pulls you to your feet, studying your movements and the twisting facial expressions.

He doesn’t let go.

Not when he guides you out the door and into a hallway shaped of the same kind of stone as the room was made of. Carved from.

Not when he slows down at the sound of the squeaky breathing the pace forces from you.

There doesn’t seem to be many rooms along the winding path. Here and there a door bars the way or you catch a glimpse of a dead-end that looks as though the excavation was abandoned or even disrupted by cave-ins.

You do your best to memorize the path, but frankly, your mind is getting fuzzy from pain and exhaustion. You have no sense of time, just hunger and tiredness weighing you down to indicate the loss of many hours.

“Just a bit longer, [Y/N],” Itachi soothes.

When did I tell him my name? You want to ask or at least protest, but it would be a choice between talking or getting to wherever he’s leading you...and you doubt he’ll let you pause.

A few dozen steps later and a short flight of stairs up, he ushers you through a door into a room that looks like a mix between a kitchen and work station. A fire is the only light and heat source (the smoke venting up through a chimney too narrow to be an escape route), casting a warm glow over the solid wooden table and chairs. Everything else is hewn from whatever mountain you’re inside.

“Sit,” your captor finally releases the grip and points at a chair near the fire and you obediently do as you’re told.

There are shelves and niches almost hidden in the dancing shadows at first holding with boxes, bundles, and various utensils. He knows where everything is, grabbing a few items before returning and laying it out in the light. Bandages. His movements are fluid and elegant, just like you remembered.

He motions towards your upper body, then turns to tend to the fire. “Strip.”

“That’s really not -”

“Some of your ribs are broken. Restraining them will minimize the pain.”

He’s right. Of course he is.

With clipped movements, you pull off the layers until you hesitate at the poor excuse of a bra. Despite the now roaring fire, the cold from the stone still seeps into your body and raises waves of goosebumps and tightens your nipples. It would be easier to apply the bandages correctly without the last bit of clothing in the way, but right now it feels like the only shield left at your disposal as Itachi turns back to you.

“We’ll work around that,” the man offers softly.

He works quietly at first. Hands winding the linen bandages around you adeptly, pausing each time the ministration intensifies the pain and causes the discomfort to escape as stubborn hisses. The purple nail polish is mesmerizing – simultaneously a contrast to the horrific stories of a killer and perfectly fitting the pretty, nearly feminine, traits you see. Especially the eyes. Sure, they’re filled with a bottomless sadness that you don’t feel comfortable acknowledging, but they’re beautiful. Haunting.

“You’re staring,” he hums without looking up.

Shit. “No. I just -...let’s say you’re who you claim to be,” you try to recover, “why’re you back?”

“To be his watcher.”

“Says who?”

This time, he stops and looks you dead in the eyes. “Otsutsuki Hagoromo, the Sage of Six Paths.” There are very few proper comebacks to that, so your captor continues without giving you a chance to think of something, “Otsutsuki told me about the bonds of families and that it can transcend blood. He knows hatred can cause – and has caused – too much harm...but something rekindled his hope that it can be overcome.“

I don’t have an eye on Uchiha constantly, but... “Does Sasuke know?” Returning to his work, Itachi avoids your gaze. “He doesn’t...”

“He’s finally found peace and is on the right path...I can’t risk undoing it.”

Bullshit! “Or you’re a coward who doesn’t have the guts to fa-” the rest is cut off as soft fingers tighten around your throat.

Blood-red eyes pierce your mind, numbing you for an eternity or a millisecond.

...

They were a means to reach the goal but their words still hurt as you followed meekly in their footsteps. Snobbery. Disdain. Considering how proud your two team members clearly felt, they had very little to show for their reputation as Uchihas and frankly, it was your skills rather than theirs that ensured successful missions and still, you never once looked them in their face. Instead, you kept an eye out for two other of the clan.

Where one was, so would the other be. Thick as thieves, the boys had found a companionship that complemented their differences in the same manner as the sun and the moon. But as opposed to your teammates who swooned at the brightness of the sun, you were drawn to the night and the calmness it brought whenever that boy was near – each time he met your eyes, time became meaningless.

...

The two of you sit in silence as the steam from the soup caresses your face. Your mind is blank, slowly starting to pick up on the absence of stone walls – wood has replaced the cold surfaces, making it almost unbearably warm with the bandages underneath your layers of clothes – and a plethora of questions begin to press against your conscious only to be held back as most of your thoughts get derailed whenever you look at the man before you.

Without the hat and cloak to conceal him, it’s impossible to ignore all the details you’ve nurtured in your memory for ages, such as the slight pull of his lips as he thinks or the elegance of his movements now that he gets up and refills his bowl from the pot hanging over the fire.

“Why are you following Sasuke?”

You should be diplomatic. “I could ask you the same.” You’re not.

“I already told you,” Itachi shrugs.

“Well I...I don’t believe you.”

But you do. There’s no denying anymore that this man is who he claims to be and so, why would he lie about his purpose? The sad smile. The quiet mannerisms. The idea that Itachi would somehow transcend death to watch over his little brother? That’s a mysterious intricacy that fits with your memories of him from before that night.

“You do...but something else is bothering you.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Am I not what you expected?”

No, you’re not. However, he’s what you remember with a layer of sorrow added on top. He doesn’t get to be sad. The little spark of anger is what you need. You nurse it, feed it until it flares up hot and bright and consumes your regrets and self-pity.

“Expected? I don’t know what I expected from someone like you!” Your voice is rising, shaking with years of frustration. “Clan killer. Murderer. I never told anyone but I was in love with an Uchiha! That night, I’d gone to bed, finally sure that I was gonna tell him but when I woke up...” Something inside you had broken that day and it still hurts now. “They told me how you’d left Sasuke alive...but the boy I loved was gone and no one knew I was mourning. Each time I saw him -” you can’t hold back a strangled sound and you realize, you’re crying -”I saw the ghost of...” The bowl of floating vegetables looks blurry until you blink angrily. “Ugh! But what does a teenager know of love, right? They’ll grow up. Get over it. Except I knew you were out there still and that you had all the answers. Why? The Itachi I remember wasn’t a mindless monster! I was told a story, but it doesn’t make any sense. If all the monster wanted was power then why spare Sasuke? Why did everyone else have to die?”

The inhalations are shallow and rapid, making you dizzy as you cling to the table and the spoon. It burns in your lungs and cheeks.

“I am sorry for the pain, I’ve caused you.”

Your gaze snaps to his face and you know he’s speaking the truth but it doesn’t matter right now.

“Sorry? Sorry?! You don’t get to be sorry! I missed y-...the boy, I loved was gone and it took ages before I could let go and stop mourning, finally accepting the truth had died with you and now...now you’re here? And it’s all back and I don’t understand! How could you?” Itachi doesn’t flinch as you launch the bowl towards him – he doesn’t have to because your aim is off and it clatters to the floor in a shower of shards and wasted food after hitting the wall behind him. “How? The boy I loved was not a monster! He wouldn’t do what they s-”

The echoes of your wheezing shouts ring through the room after the abrupt stop. Holding your breath, you wait for the ground to swallow you whole or for the man at the other end of the table to react and the fear is colder than the burning in your chest.

“Things aren’t always what they seem,” Itachi eventually whispers, “they were just people who had been wronged and misguided until their arrogance made them blind.”

What? That’s not exactly what you had expected. Without explaining further, your captor gets up, handing you his bowl of food before beginning to clean the mess you’ve made.

“Don’t...I’ll get tha-” you begin.

He only has to look at you.

...

The dew had soaked your toes, cooling and soothing them after each kick that you landed on the wood stump. Pine. The new splinters refreshed the scent as they fell to the ground and you knew that birds would rummage through them in the hope of finding a morning snack once the training grounds were free of people again – they were already gathering at the edge of the clearing except for where Itachi stood.

The realization made you stop mid-kick, gaze locked with his and heart fluttering in your chest. How long had he stood there?

“They’re wrong.” You could barely believe he was talking to you. “Your teammates...don’t listen to what they say.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Itachi was gone and maybe it had all been your imagination running free.

...

Sitting up abruptly, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to get used to the low light of the dying embers. Where am I?

Salt and drying seaweed is heavy in the air, somehow worming its way into what appears to be yet another room of stone. No...it’s a cave. You’re sitting on a bedroll splayed out onto the sand filling the place and you have no memory of arriving.

The dark form on the other side of the fire pit makes no move as you slip a hand underneath your shirt to confirm what you already know: the bandages are gone and there’s only a muted tenderness as you prod at the ribs. How long has it been?

“You’re safe,” Itachi’s gentle voice assures, and you feel your pulse slow despite the ominous situation, “go back to sleep.”

Yes. Sleep...hang on! Shaking your head, you fight the urge to succumb to the fuzziness that weighs your thoughts. “Why’re you doing this?” you mumble.

It doesn’t make sense why the man wouldn’t simply get the answers he want and then dispose of you or at the very least leave you locked up somewhere while he keeps following Sasuke from the shadows. Instead, your captor has put an effort into keeping you comfortable. Feeding you.

“I remember you.” His eyes reflect the red coals as they burn into your soul all over again. “Memories don’t do your justice, though.”

...

There is no world beyond the walls of the garden but a red sheet of sky dotted with storm clouds. The sliding doors have been pushed aside, opening the hallway to the view, and you know the wood beneath your bare feet should be silky from decades of use. You can’t feel it. There are no scents either, no breeze to toy with the soft fabric of your yukata, nor insects clicking from the rhododendron.

“This isn’t real.”

“No,” Itachi confirms from behind you, “but here I can create what you need. Who you need.”

Turning at last, there’s no reason to shy away from meeting his gaze even if it matches the fake sky. He looks real – as opposed to the familiarity of the home of your childhood that surrounds the two of you – and the ghost of a smile kindly tries to hide the sadness.

“...need. For what?”

The black strands falling into his face are strangely dull in the nightmarish light. “Closure.”

“That’s not possible.”

Wanting to leave, to run away and avoid what Itachi intends, you find yourself rooted in place by an invisible force. Even turning your face away is impossible and you pray that he doesn’t understand the well of emotions he must be able to see in your eyes.

“This is a chance for you to say goodbye to the one I killed. The one you...love,” he pauses to scrutinize your expression and you try to remain neutral, “because you do. You still love him.”

“You have no right...” swallowing hard, you fight to keep the words back, “no right t-to claim to know what I need!” Finally, you manage to close your eyes but they snap open again at the touch of his fingertips on your forehead. “This isn’t something you get to fix like -”

...

The world has shifted again and you’re back in the ocean side cave. You can feel how uneven the sand is under your knees and shins even with the bedroll to soften the press and some some the grains have found their way in between your toes...but none of that matters because Itachi is still right before you, his fingers gently resting on your brow.

A pop-and-crackle from the fire pit is the only sound other than your shallow breathing. You know, he knows. Eyes widened in nigh-comedic understanding, it’s as if he sees you for the first time.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N].”

You barely manage to whisper, “for what?”

His fingertips send shivers along your spine as they trace a path, allowing him to cradle the back of your neck in his palm.

“Everything” Itachi’s lips brush your cheek, “for breaking your heart in so many ways and for making you think your love was unrequited.”

#Itachi #Uchiha Itachi #Uchiha Itachi x fem!reader #In the eyes #Itachi x fem!reader #Itachi x you #Itachi x y/n #Itachi Uchiha #post naruto shippuuden #naruto fandom #itachi fanfiction #itachi fanfic #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #naruto #anime #x reader #x fem!reader

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abbacchiosbelt · 3 years

Text

Clarity | Johnny Joestar x F!Reader

18+ under the cut, CW for lactation kink. 5477k words.

The thought of finally getting to lay down on a real bed as opposed to a bedroll is the only thing keeping you going as you look between Gyro and Johnny, arguing about something out of earshot right in the lobby of the hotel you’d chosen for the night. All you wanted to do was collapse in your hotel room, but your companions were making it difficult. The day had already been incredibly long and more challenging than usual thanks to the humid, swamp-like forest your group had been forced to cross through.

(When the three of you had finally emerged, you were bitten from head to toe and marked with tiny red blotches. Gyro and Johnny had somehow escaped the barrage of bugs that had attacked you. The three of you had stopped momentarily to check each other and the horses over for any particularly nasty bites. Gyro was far too animated for someone who’d just been eaten up by bugs and Johnny was flushed bright red, almost appearing embarrassed as he peeked at you from under his beanie.

Johhny had kept peeking at you throughout the ride to the nearest town – a town that Gyro claimed he ‘knew a guy’ in that would give him a good deal on hotel rooms. Nothing was better than a bargain during the Steel Ball Run, so the three of you had trudged forward despite how tired everyone was. Still, Johnny had enough energy to keep staring at you for a reason you couldn’t parse. His eyes would linger when he saw you scratching the marks, though the emotion on his face was unreadable.

After enough time, you decided to say something. “Johnny, they’re just itchy. You don’t have to worry about it.” It’s not that you minded Johnny looking at you – he was very cute, and you’d come to grow quite fond of him – but no one would feel like being looked at after being sweaty and covered in bug bites.

“S-sorry,” Johhny had muttered, looking embarrassed about being caught. Gyro had cracked up at Johhny’s response, seemingly aware of something that you weren’t. You were too tired to ask, so you let it go as the three of you continued.

Still, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed knowing that Johnny was looking at you… Even if you were covered in bug bites.)

Just when you’re about to go over and attempt to figure out what the problem is, your companions turn to look at you with mixed expressions on their faces – Gyro is grinning from ear-to-ear while Johnny’s face is set in a pout, his cheeks bright pink. You step closer so Gyro doesn’t yell loud enough to alert everyone in the lobby again. Gyro’s grin somehow grows even wider as you stand next to Johhny, the blonde pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“So?” You say. Their conversation had looked heated and you could only make out a few words. You were curious to find out what exactly had the two so riled up.

“I got us the rooms.” Gyro starts. “I thought it’s only fair I get the single one. Johnny-boy isn’t so keen on sharing, though, so if you would rather stay with me instead of him…” Gyro trails off. You barely register what Gyro even said before Johhny speaks, heated.

“Gyro! I never said that. I just thought it wasn’t proper to share rooms n’ all with a woman.” Johhny chances a glance at you before he looks back down into his lap. “If you’re gonna be an ass about it, I’m sure she’d rather avoid you for the rest of the night.” Gyro laughs at Johnny’s barb, used to his harsh tongue. “’Sides, your room only has one bed and the other one has two, right?”

“Yep.” Gyro replies, his expression unchanging. Johhny narrows his eyes at Gyro, the Italian raising his hands in protest. “That’s what my guy told me! I’m not lying.”

If you didn’t step in now, Gyro and Johnny would bicker for the rest of the night. “It’s fine. I’m glad to share a room with Johnny.” Though his face is downturned, you can see the tips of Johnny’s ears turn red. “But I’ve about had it with the arguing, so if you boys don’t mind, I’m going to head to the room now.”

The prospect of sharing a room with Johnny had your stomach fluttering in excitement. Sure, he didn’t seem to respond to your flirting much, but he was decent enough to spend time with and didn’t talk nearly as much as Gyro did.

“Fine by me. I’ve got some business to attend at that bar next door anyways.” Johnny rolls his eyes at Gyro’s words and Gyro responds with one of his ‘nyo-hos’, making Johnny roll his eyes even harder. “You’re welcome to join, Johnny, but I know you’d rather be in bed, sì?”

Johnny looks like he’s about to strangle Gyro, which cues your louder companion to chuckle as he quickly exits the hotel, leaving you and Johhny alone.

“Wanna head back to the room?” Johnny says, breaking the awkward silence. With a nod, you and Johnny set off to the back of the hotel. Luckily, the rooms were located on the bottom floor of the hotel instead of up the staircase. You and Gyro had no issue with helping Johnny upstairs, but you knew he preferred to do things on his own. You couldn’t blame him. Johnny jingles the set of keys the receptionist gave to him before he unlocks the door, letting it swing open to reveal a tidy and reasonably sized room for the discount price.

The room has a cabin theme – deep brown oak walls with stained wood flooring, richly colored furniture, a double bed with strong oak posts… Both of you are silent when you come to the realization the Gyro had, in fact, lied about the conditions of the room.

“I’ll take the couch—” Johhny starts, but you speak at the same time.

“You can have the bed—"

You stare at each other for a moment. Johnny’s mouth opens and closes like he wants to say something, but he remains silent. It would be up to you, then.

“We could share.” You offer, willing yourself to look at Johnny. He averts his gaze but after a few moments eventually mumbles a quiet ‘fine’, his whole face pink again. It was adorable how easy it was to fluster him – his blushing always gave him away.

“You can change your mind later if you wanna, I won’t be offended.” Johhny mumbles. Johnny was wrong if he thought you were dreading this or were just doing it to be nice. Though you hadn’t started the day with the intention of spending a night in a hotel room with Johnny Joestar, you certainly weren’t complaining about how the day had turned out. There’s a small part of you that wonders if Johhny is just saying ‘yes’ to be nice, but you’d spent enough time with the ornery jockey to know he didn’t do anything he didn’t want to. If he were actually upset about the room, he would have left and chased Gyro down.

The fact that he hadn’t meant that Johhny did want to spend time with you, but whether he had more in mind for the night was a mystery to you.

“You okay?” Johhny’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you smile sheepishly.

“Sorry. It’s been a long day.” You gesture down to your grime-covered clothes and bitten arms. Johhny doesn’t look much better either – his clothes are just as muddy, and his hat is practically plastered to his hair. Nothing sounded better than a hot bath right about now. Even though you didn’t want to leave Johnny alone, both of you would be in a better mood after getting clean. “You wanna take the bath first?”

“Uh,” Johhny mumbles. “I don’t mind, but I’ll need help getting out. Normally Gyro helps out. I can wait until he gets back and bug him about it if ya want.” He glances at you, lips turned down into a frustrated frown.

“I don’t mind at all. I’ll just throw a towel at you and close my eyes if you want.” Your attempt to lighten his mood makes Johhny’s grumble in embarrassment, but his frown softens.

“Y-yeah, that’ll work.” Johhny acquiesces to your proposal with no fight at all – you’d expected a bit more complaining from him. It was a pleasant surprise and one that had your heart skipping a beat in your chest out of excitement that you didn’t want to acknowledge just yet. Maybe he was just tired and didn’t want to argue any longer. (Or maybe, you hope, he’s not so opposed to the idea of you seeing him without clothes on.)

“At the very least, let me get the bath started for you.” Before Johnny can protest you bring a finger to your lips and walk to the mid-sized bathroom located in the righthand corner of the room. The door is already open, so you’re greeted by the site of the well-kept bathroom as soon as you look in. The tub is the nicest one you’ve seen in a long while. It certainly beats bathing in the rain or the cold mountain springs.

Sat on the tub’s edge is a collection of soaps, bath oils, and other body care products. Gyro was right when he said this guy owed him – the kind of products the hotel had offered as an amenity wasn’t cheap. You hum as you lean down to pick through the selection, leaving out a honey-scented bar of soap for Johnny that had a hint of pine to it. You set the other products to the side after picking out a mint-scented hair care set.

Though you didn’t think Johnny would be too perturbed by the other scents, it was the lightest and most refreshing smell of the bunch. Finally, you get to the task you came into the bathroom for originally and lean over the tub to twist the faucets until water starts pouring from the faucet. Your mind drifts to thoughts of what Johnny would look like naked and soaped up - strong arms glistening, blonde hair curling around his shoulders, his chest and what laid below. You only look down when you realize you’ve been letting the water run for too long, but luckily, the faucet seems to be slow-going. You bite your lip as you will the thoughts away and concentrate back on your task. Although you consider asking him if you could take a bath first to slip away for some alone time, you’d feel guilty making him wait. With a sigh, you stand up and call out for him.

“It’s ready!” As you walk out of the bathroom you’re greeted by Johnny, so close that he almost runs over your toes with his chair. Your face heats up as you remember what you were just daydreaming about. “O-oh, Johhny, sorry.”

“Careful,” he chides, peering up at you. “I didn’t get ya, did I?”

You shake your head, hoping he doesn’t see how hard you’re blushing. “Nah, I almost ran into you. Besides, you only run over Gyro’s toes on purpose, right?”

Johhny stifles a laugh and his face lights up in a rare toothy grin. “Ya got me.” He says. “Don’t tell him, though.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Johnny’s smile turns into a familiar smirk – a smirk that was unfairly attractive. Anyone could be swayed by it. It reminds you that Johhny used to be a playboy back in the day – that he was surrounded by women and had his pick of the most beautiful ones there. The thought hits you like a train, and you wonder for a moment if you even have a chance with him. His playboy days may have been over, but he had time to experience everything under the sun back then. Suddenly nervous, you walk around Johnny to sit down on the bed.

“I’ll holler for ya when I’m done.” Johnny shuts the door behind him, and you’re left alone with your thoughts again, wondering if perhaps you’d misread the situation.

You lie back on the bed and wait for Johhny to call for you, resigning yourself to daydreaming about making a move.

Only a few feet away, Johhny was panicking behind the bathroom door and wondering if you felt the same way he did. Johhny was smitten – even during the worst days of the race, your smile was like a light on a cloudy day. God, you even had him using cheesy metaphors. He doesn’t want to ignore how he feels about you any longer, but… Would you even want someone like him? You were strong and beautiful, and he was just a washed-up jockey who had barely entered into the Steel Ball Run. What could you possibly see in him?

He grumbles, beginning the arduous task of removing his clothes until he’s left in nothing but his briefs. They’d be easier to remove once he got into the water. His clothes were going to be cleaned later, so whether they got wet now or later didn’t really matter to Johhny. With a practiced motion, he pushes himself up and out of his wheelchair onto the ledge of the tub until he can slide in comfortably. It took him a long time to get good at it, but he was set on retaining as much independence as he could. Still, it was impossible to get out without the help of someone else unless he wanted to risk hurting himself. This time, that person would be you.

Johhny leans back in the tub and groans at the thought of you seeing him so vulnerable. You wouldn’t judge him, he knew that, but the thought still plagued him while he started to wash. Whatever you had picked out for him smelled nice enough that Johhny used more than he needed, enjoying the luxury of expensive bath products for the first time in a while.

Eventually, the water runs cold and Johnny knows he can’t stall any longer. He’d decided to keep his briefs on – at least until you helped him out of the tub. He’d figure out the rest later. Taking a deep breath, he calls for you.

“M’ done!” It only takes a moment for you to respond – he hears the creak of the floorboards from you walking towards the bathroom.

You poke your head in the bathroom frame and observe him, smiling. He looked relaxed for once. Johnny’s head was resting against the far edge of the tub, eyes closed and hair floating around his shoulders as he enjoyed the final few moments in his bath. He opens his eyes to look at you and immediately averts his gaze, cheeks already starting to heat up.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to take a peek at anything I can’t already see.” Johnny’s eyes open wide and you realize what you’ve just said, hand flying up to your mouth to cover it out of embarrassment. As much as you’d like to run and hide, you had to help Johnny out of the tub.

“Uh,” Johnny starts, but you interrupt him.

“Sorry. It’s been a long day.” You mumble, letting your hand fall to your side as you approach the tub. Johnny holds your gaze instead of looking away, his eyes bright.

“I don’t… Ya don’t…” He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Ya can look if you want.”

Your heart skips a beat and you’re positive that you must have misheard him. When you meet his gaze, though, Johnny’s expression tells you that you heard him correctly the first time. He’s blushing, but the small smile he had on his face was easy to read. Johnny wasn’t as brazen as he was in his playboy days, but he hadn’t forgotten how to flirt.

Johnny sits up in the tub and lets the water slide down his shoulders and chest as they’re exposed to you, the smooth skin glistening with soap. The bubbles have dissipated enough so that you can see his lower torso and legs in the water. His legs look soft and plush compared to his muscular upper body and it’s all you can do not to stare at the expanse of his freckled skin. There’s so much you want to say, to babble about how cute and handsome Johnny is – but you were here to help him, not take advantage of the fact he needed your help to ogle him despite his encouragement.

“Ready?” You ask. Johnny tilts his head and gives you a look that tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking about, but merely nods. With his consent, you lean over and into the tub before hooking your arms under his and hoist him carefully to the edge of the tub so he can dry off his body. Once he’s finished, you help him back into his chair, having placed a towel on the seat beforehand so he didn’t soak it through.

“Thanks. I know it’s a hassle.” Johhny mumbles, whatever confidence he had shown earlier quickly deflating.

“No!” You shout, and Johnny’s eyes go wide. “I-I mean, no, it’s not a hassle.” You pause for a moment. “You’re not a hassle.”

It’s not a flowery compliment, but to Johnny, your words are everything – his face, still tinged with pink from his current situation, lights up as he tucks his head into his shoulder and tries to hide the smile on his face from you.

It was almost comical how the two of you were so close yet so far from revealing how you felt about each other, the awkward dance being performed one built on anxiety and self-doubt. The stars had aligned things in your favor so often, yet you both tried to ignore what was so obvious to Gyro and fate itself. No longer could either of you play ignorant, your words stroking a fire in Johnny that had been only ashes for far too long.

There’s silence, as you register what you’ve said, and then you and Johnny are both talking at the same time—

“Johnny, I need to tell you something-“

“Can I talk to you when you’re done-“

The words end up jumbled together and both of you stare at each other, eyes wide and cheeks pink. Johnny tilts his head and nods at you.

“You go first.” Although you would have said the same thing to him, Johnny had spoken first. You can only hope what you were about to reveal to him was the same thing he had wanted to say to you.

“Okay,” You breathe, steeling yourself. “Johnny, I like you. You’ve never been a burden to me, and…” You shy away from looking him in the eyes, nerves overcoming you. “I would like to be with you.”

Johnny doesn’t even take a second before responding, sounding just as nervous as you had. “Yes! I mean,” he clears his throat, and you look up to meet his pale blue eyes. There’s sincerity in his face when he speaks next. “I would like that too if you’ll have me…”

Though you want to lean down and kiss him, there’s another pressing matter at hand – you glance at the bath and Johnny follows your eyes, his mouth quirking up on one side in a smirk.

“Take your time,” He says, pivoting away from you in his wheelchair and into the bathroom doorway. Though his face is away from you, the pink tips of his ears are visible. “I don’t mind waiting.”

By the time the tub has drained and been refilled so you could scrub down the grime of the past few weeks, it’s been nearly half an hour. Your nerves have been abuzz the whole time with anticipation, wondering just what Johnny was thinking about on the other side of the doorway. Did he regret what he said, or was he just as excited as you? Even though he’d told you as much, anxiety still dug its nasty claws into your thoughts. It wouldn’t be worth it to come this far and give up, though, so once you’re dry you step back outside to the hotel room in little more than the linen robe the hotel had provided.

Johhny, true to his word, was waiting near the large bed that acted as the centerpiece of the room. He snaps his head towards you as soon as he hears the bathroom door open, his mouth slightly parted as he watches you emerge from the steamy room. He takes in the expanse of your skin revealed by the robe and swallows, adam’s apple bobbing as he allows himself to really look at you for the first time. He hadn’t felt worthy of doing so before but knowing that you desired him too gave him license to finally appreciate you.

Johnny looks you from head to toe with clear appreciation written on his face as his cheeks turn red, his arms not at all subtly covering his lower half. You walk forward until you’re close enough to touch him, hands desperate to reach out and caress him – you hold yourself back though, waiting to see what Johnny would do.

He stammers for a moment before getting his words out, barely able to look at you. “O-oh, you look so beautiful.” Johnny chances a glance at you from under his lashes and you smile at him before you lean down to his face, lips nearly touching his own.

“Can I kiss you?” You whisper. Johnny’s breath hitches in his throat and his lips are on yours immediately, only slightly chapped from the wear and tear of the road. You hardly care though, not when you’re finally kissing him. Johnny shyly swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, and you surprise him by coaxing him to open his mouth with your tongue, a small moan rising from the back of his throat.

When you finally break apart both of you are breathless and Johnny’s pupils are blown wide, cheeks bright pink.

“Do you want to move to the bed?” You ask, and Johnny nods with no hesitation. He pauses for a moment as he looks between the bed and himself, bottom lip jutting out in the tiniest pout.

“You won’t think it’s… weird, having to help me up there?” His voice wavers and you can tell that he’ll lose steam fast if he gets too in his head.

“You remember what I said earlier, don’t you?” Johnny nods his head again at your words. You cup the side of his face with your hand and run your thumb gently across one of his cheekbones, smiling. “I meant it. Now come on, I think we’re both feeling a little impatient.”

It only takes a few moments for you to get Johnny onto the bed, helping him so that he can lean back against the headboard with his legs out in front of him. Before climbing on yourself, you let your robe fall to the floor and earn a quiet noise of appreciation from Johnny. You feel a little shy when you realize your skin still has bumps after being razed by mosquitos from earlier in the day.

“Sorry about the bumps, I hope they’re not too gross.” It’s Johnny’s time to reassure you this time, his eyes going wide and his mouth twisting up into a little knowing smile.

“I don’t mind,” He says, though Johhny offers no further explanation. “You’re right, I am impatient, so get yer cute ass over here.”

Perhaps finally being able to look at you fully had inspired a bit of the old Johnny to make an appearance again – you giggle at his bold words before climbing up onto the bed, no longer worried about your appearance. Johnny was earnest, and you could trust that he wasn’t lying about enjoying what he was seeing.

You settle yourself over his legs so you’re hovering just above the hardness protruding from his briefs. Johhny practically whines as you let yourself barely ghost against it, his arms shooting up to take hold of your shoulders. He was already so sensitive. You press yourself against his bulge again and Johhny’s fingers tighten on your shoulders, a low whistle leaving his mouth.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” Johnny breathes, biting his lip. You respond by grinding down on him again and he lets out a sharp noise, one of his eyebrows raising as he looks at you. “You’re gonna tease me, ain’t ya?”

“Just a little.” Johhny huffs a laugh at your reply, the laugh quickly cut off when you lean down and press your lips against his neck, hips rolling at the same time to press yourself against him once more.

Johnny groans and starts to slide his hands down your bare arms, his fingers gently sliding against the bites that you had received earlier in the day. The sensation isn’t something you’re used to, but with Johnny doing it, you can’t help but enjoy it as his light touches send a shiver down your spine. You finally break apart from his neck and Johnny is practically panting, looking at you with lidded eyes. His eyes trail down to your breasts and his gaze turns hungry.

“Can I touch you there?” Johnny brings his hands to your breasts, his touch only inches away – when you nod, he wastes no time bringing his hands down as he begins to massage your breasts, fingers gingerly working over your nipples. His mouth drops open when he sees a droplet of milk-white liquid begin to pool, looking up at you in wonder. Even you’re surprised by the development, though you remember reading in a health book long ago that any long-term simulation could cause your breasts to lactate. Perhaps it had been the long journey you’d taken throughout the Steel Ball Run. It was new, but you weren’t complaining. Johnny looks at you eagerly. He doesn’t have to speak for you to figure out what he wants.

“Please,” you murmur. Johnny dips his head down and latches his mouth against one of your nipples, suckling gently as he uses his hand to continue to massage you. It feels so alien but so good that you keen into him as his mouth works your nipple over, the stimulation causing milk to flow into his mouth. You can only grind against Johnny helplessly as he switches from left to right, sucking and licking at your nipples until they were puffy. The way he was drinking down your milk with such enthusiasm was almost enough to send you over the edge.

Johnny lifts his head once your moans turn into cries of ‘too much’, licking his lips. His clothed cock twitches against your bare pussy, the fabric of his briefs soaked from your ministrations with a mix of his precum and your juices. You’d be feeling ashamed of what a mess you had made on him if you weren’t so turned on, and by the way Johnny was looking at you, it was clear he felt the same.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Johnny whines. “I need you; I want you,” he starts to babble, cock twitching against you again. “Please, darlin’, let me fuck you.”

Johnny’s husky voice sends a pang of arousal straight to your lower half – it’s what you’ve been waiting for. You help Johnny wiggle out of his briefs, his cock immediately springing forward and leaking precum. It was cute, just like the rest of him. His blush turns beet red when he catches you staring at it, his boldness wavering.

“You’re perfect.” You lean forward to kiss Johnny and he sighs into your mouth, sigh falling away to a loud whine when you wrap your fingers around his cock and gently pump him. Johnny’s whines are almost the cutest thing about him, but the time to tease him for that would be later. For now, the only thing you could think about was filling yourself with his cock until neither of you could take it any longer.

You climb on top of Johnny and let yourself hover over his cock, gently grinding against the spongy head to help lubricate him. Johnny’s head rolls back and hits the headboard with a quiet thump, his mouth hanging open as he almost loses himself in the sensation. After a few moments, he rolls his head back forward, his eyes full of adoration and lust.

“You’re perfect too,” he says. “But please, let me fuck ya already-“

You don’t give Johnny a chance to say anything else before you catch the head of his cock on your slick entrance and slide down, taking his stiff cock in one go as you moan through the mild burn. It’s nothing compared to how good it feels to finally be full of him. Johnny whines loud enough that you’re sure the whole building can hear him but neither of you cares – not now, when the only thing in the world that matters is the two of you joined together.

“Aw, fuck-“ Johnny hisses. You roll your hips and Johnny brings his hands down to cling on to them, squeezing tight. “I don’t know how long I can last; you feel so good.”

“Me either,” you reply. “You feel so good in me, Johhny.” Johnny’s eyes almost roll back into the back of his head when he hears his name fall from your lips – the culmination of months of flirting and close calls was enough to have both of you feeling overstimulated so early on. It was good, though, like nothing you’d ever felt with anyone before.

“Please keep movin’,” Johnny rasps. You oblige without a second thought, starting with a slow rhythm of your hips that has his cock hitting all the right spots inside of you. Johnny’s arms move from your hips until they’re wrapped around you so the two of you are pulled close together, your chest pressed against his own while your hips keep working his cock inside of you.

Johnny pants and lets out tiny whines at every single roll of your hips, his face bright pink and his pupils blown wide as you fuck him into the bed. Your name falls from his mouth when you start to clench your walls around him while you increase the pace. Johnny tightens his arms around you and pulls you even closer, his head tucked into the crook of your neck.

“I’m close,” he hisses. “C-can I cum in you?”

You nod your head eagerly, consequences be damned – it didn’t matter when his cock was so hot and heavy inside of you. All you wanted was to feel him cum inside of you and know that you’d been enough to make him lose control. The closeness of your bodies has your clit rubbing against Johnny’s lower stomach, the stimulation helping you edge closer and closer to your release.

“Oh god,” Johnny groans – it only takes a few more moments until his mouth falls open and his arms grip like a vice around you as he crosses over the edge, his cock twitching as he shoots ropes of cum inside you. You don’t slow down though, your hips still rolling as you chase your release while Johnny holds on for dear life as you milk his cock. The sound of Johnny’s low moans is what sends you over the edge, the orgasm ripping through your body with such force that you fall bonelessly against Johnny, panting.

“Fuck,” Johnny whispers. “You’re incredible.” You smile against his skin and lift yourself back up to look at him, sweat plastered on both of your foreheads as you bathe in the afterglow.

“So are you,” You reply. Johnny blushes, though you’re not sure the blush ever left his face since he and Gyro had argued down in the lobby just a few hours ago. You groan quietly as you pull up from him and flop next to him, laying your head on his shoulder. Johnny wraps an arm around you and uses his free hand to lace his fingers through yours, sighing.

“So…” He mumbles, his voice trailing off.

“So?” You ask, peeking up at him. There’s a sheepish smile on his face.

“I think we probably need to use the bath again… but can we stay like this for a while?” Johnny's smile falters for just a second as if he thinks you might say no – but when you snuggle harder against him, his smile splits into a content grin.

“Of course.”

The next morning arrives faster than either of you want it to when Gyro bangs on the door, demanding to know if the two of you had a good time last night.

#my writing #commission #johnny joestar #johnny joestar x reader #afab reader #fluff #not sfw #lactation kink cw #riding #some mentions of johnny's bug bite kink lolol #steel ball run

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

You Came Back (1/3)

Juice Ortiz x Reader

Request from @ateliefloresdaprimavera: Juice has a special place in my heart, so I'm denying his ending on the show😭 I want to foccus on the nurturing,fluffy and romantic side that he deserves😍 maybe something about Opie and Jax childhood friend who comes back to charming( Gemma always thought of her as her own kid) and she's really closed of emotionaly, bit our boy is smitten from the second he has his eyes on her. so romantic Juice overdrive, and she starts to see this side of life that's worth, by his side

Warnings: language

Word Count: 2.8k

Chapter Index: Part 2 , Part 3

A/N: Okay so I maaaay have gotten a little carried away with this request (hence it being three parts lmao) but I just felt like to do it right I had to make it longer than a one-shot. Hope you don’t mind! My love for Juice knows no bounds so it’s easy for me to get a little over zealous lol

You rolled into the lot at T-M, turning the radio down as you did. Everything looked pretty much exactly the same as when you left all those years back. You wondered if any of the guys ever actually got out of Charming, or if they all fell into the routine and stayed. You shook your head at yourself, knowing that you weren’t really any different—all those years you spent out of Charming and somehow you ended up right back in it. Maybe you just weren’t meant to stay away.

You parked and took a deep breath, trying to give yourself the will to step out of the vehicle. You looked around the lot, seeing all the bikes lined up together made your heart speed up. You glanced over to the shop itself, not seeing any familiar faces at first. You sighed, finally making yourself cut the ignition and get out of the car.

The walk to the office felt like it was a mile long. The door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering. You heard an unmistakable voice on the other side, “Come in.”

You stepped inside, waiting for Gemma to look up from the papers in front of her. Her eyes flicked up, expecting to see someone else, anyone else, but there you were. It took a second for it all to register, but as soon as it did a smile broke out across her face. She stood up and walked around the desk, wrapping you in a hug.

“Well, well,” she laughed, stepping back so she could get a good look at you, “Didn’t expect to see you rolling in here any time soon.”

You laughed, shaking your head slightly, “Yea, me neither I guess.”

“What brings you here, sweetheart?” she could see the stress on your face.

You sighed, “Don’t really know. I had to go somewhere, and I ended up here.”

She smiled, nodding, “All my kids always make it back home,” she saw you open your mouth to argue and held her hand up to stop you, “Blood isn’t what makes someone my kid. If I ever fed you in my house, you’re my kid.”

You smiled and nodded, glad to be surrounded by the familiarity of it all. You thought that it would’ve changed over the years but you supposed that you should’ve known better. Charming, and all the people in it, seemed untouched by time. You had no idea if you were going to be able to blend back into it after being away for so long.

“That mean that Jax is around here somewhere too?”

Gemma smiled and nodded, “Clubhouse. I’m sure they’ll be excited to see you. C’mon, I’ll walk with you.”

The two of you walked side-by-side in silence. You knew that Gemma had questions, but you knew that she would wait until the excitement died down to pull you aside to ask you them. Today was just about finding everyone else again. Down the road you’d get around to finding yourself again, too.

Gemma swung open the door to the clubhouse, “Look who I found, wandering around the lot.”

Jax and Opie were both seated at the bar, smiles breaking out across their faces the second they saw you. They both stood up and came over to greet you, and you reveled in the warmth of their hugs.

“Holy shit,” Jax chuckled and shook his head, “Never thought I’d be seeing you again.”

“That seems to be the trend,” you said with a nervous smile.

Opie draped his arm around your shoulder, completely enveloping you as he pulled you against his chest again, “Welcome home.”

You laughed into his kutte, “What a welcome it is.”

You recognized some of the other faces in the clubhouse. Truthfully you weren’t ever overly close with the guys in the club. You were all nice to each other, but growing up with Jax and Opie you made a conscious decision to stay just far enough out of club drama and business to keep yourself safe. They were your best friends and you loved them, but you made a point to not know too much. Plausible deniability was key.

“Come, sit,” Jax flashed a smile, “have a beer.”

“You sure?”

He chuckled, “Yea. We ain’t got shit to do.”

Opie smiled at you, “Besides, how long has it been? Seven years? Eight?”

“Nine,” you said as you pulled away.

“Jesus Christ,” Jax said with a shake of his head, “Where does the time go?”

The three of you were sat at the bar, catching up on the broad strokes of what your lives had been like since the last time you were all in a room together. You always said that you were going to keep in touch with them when you left, but it never happened. You could blame it on a lot of different things, but deep down you knew that if you kept in touch you wouldn’t have stayed away. Charming was like a magnet and there was no denying its pull if you ever got too close.

“I do see some new faces though, right?” you laugh, “Some of these guys definitely weren’t here before.”

Jax chuckled, nodding, “You’re right. Got some new brothers hanging around. This is Half-Sack,” he nodded towards the young man who was behind the bar, trying and failing at not being obvious about staring at you, “He’s our latest Prospect.”

“N-nice to meet you, Y/N,” he nodded quickly as he went back to whatever he had been doing behind the bar beforehand.

You smiled and shook your head as you took another look around the clubhouse, “Who else is new?” you paused, chuckling to yourself, “Who else is new and actually matters?”

Opie chimed in, nodding to the far side of the clubhouse, “Only other new kid in the club is Juice.”

“Not hiring very many people these days, huh?” you chuckled, nudging Opie’s shoulder, “They stop bringing in new talent after you patched in?”

“Who else would they need?” his smile made your heart melt.

“Ope, Jax,” Clay came bursting into the clubhouse, “Church, now.”

“We’ll pick this up later,” Jax kissed you on the cheek, “It’s good to have you home.”

Opie pulled you into a half-assed headlock, kissing the top of your head before trailing behind Jax and following him into the chapel of the clubhouse. You watched in silent awe as the other men filtered into the room, shutting the doors behind them.

You turned and looked at the prospect, “You’re gonna miss roll call.”

He smiled, shaking his head, “I don’t go in there unless explicitly instructed.”

“What’s your name?” you sipped on your beer while you waited for his response.

“It’s Kipp,” he only met your eyes for a second.

“Mind if I call you that instead of Half-Sack?” you chuckled.

His cheeks flushed slightly, “You can call me whatever you want.”

You laughed and shook your head but didn’t make any other comment about it. He seemed sweet, and you thought to yourself that maybe you didn’t give the other guys in the club enough of a chance. Maybe you kept a little too much distance from everyone. Maybe if you hadn’t you wouldn’t have had to leave to end up right back where you started, you just would’ve stayed.

When the chapel doors opened up again, the men started trickling out one by one. You didn’t see Jax, Opie, or Clay come back out right away though. You didn’t have much of anywhere else to be, so you stayed put to wait. The prospect brought you another beer when he saw that you weren’t going anywhere.

You were looking down at your phone when someone popped up and sat down on the stool next to yours. It took you a moment to look up and see who it was. You were greeted with a warm smile as the man next to you gave you a once-over.

“I’m Juice,” he nodded with a grin.

You smiled, holding out your hand, “Y/N.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “You haven’t. I’m an…old friend of Jax and Opie. I haven’t been around in a while. Just got back to Charming.”

“Welcome back.”

You smiled, “Thanks. You’re new, too, yea? You weren’t here when I left.”

He chuckled, “New seems like a strong word.”

The two of you sat and made small talk for a few minutes. There was a warmth that radiated from his smile that made you feel like you’d known him your whole life. You wondered if maybe the club was turning over a new leaf. The newest members seemed like they were cut from a different cloth and it was reassuring to you.

Jax appeared behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders, “This guy givin’ you a problem, Y/N?” you could hear the smile in his voice.

You shook your head, “Not at all. Just helping me kill time until you two jokers got out of your little meeting with Clay.”

“How long you in town for?” Jax asked.

You shrugged, “Until further notice?” you tried to play it off with a smile, not wanting to talk about how you had ended up back in Charming, “Why? That desperate to get rid of me already?”

He hugged you back against his chest, almost pulling you off the stool, “Nah, never. Where you staying?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against him, “Haven’t figured that part out yet.”

“You can stay with me until you figure it out,” he offered up, “Beats paying for a motel.”

“You sure?”

He nodded, “Of course. Not giving you any more reasons to skip town on us again,” he held his hand out to help you off the stool, “C’mon, you can follow me and we can get you settled in.”

You let him help you, relieved that you had a place to stay, and that it was with someone that you trusted, “Thank you, Jax. I owe you one,” you turned back to Juice, “Nice meeting you.”

“Yea,” there was a small smirk on his face, “you too,” he watched you and Jax walk out of the clubhouse, laughing together as the door shut behind you. He turned to Opie, “Who is she?”

He shook his head with a knowing smile, clapping Juice on the back, “She’s out of your league, brother.”

Juice laughed at the remark, but wasn’t able to take his eyes away from the door that you had just walked out of. He might not have known you yet, but he was hoping that that wouldn’t be the case for long. You felt like a breath of fresh air. He drummed his fingertips on the surface of the bar, the wheels in his mind beginning to turn.

It took a few days to get comfortable staying in Jax’s house. He was more than accommodating, but you were still struggling with being back in Charming. Any time he tried to pry a little more into what your life had been like once you left, and what it was that made you decide to come back, you clammed up. You weren’t good enough at lying to try, especially not with someone who knew you as well as Jax did. He eventually backed off when he realized that he was just going to have to wait for you to be comfortable talking about it in your own time. But you still felt like there were a few degrees of separation between the two of you.

“Plans today?” he asked as he sat across from you at the table, taking a sip of his coffee.

You sighed and shook your head, “Not really. Still waiting to hear back from a couple of the places I sent applications out to.”

“If you need something in the meantime, I’m sure we could find a spot for you at T-M.”

You shook your head, not wanting to accept charity, or pity, “No, you don’t have to do that. You guys have a full house there as it is.”

He smiled, “Nah, my mom could always use the help. She says it all the time.”

You chuckled, “Needing you guys to do your jobs and needing extra help aren’t the same thing.”

He laughed, “See? You two’ll work well together. Why don’t you come with me today and you can talk to her?”

“And say what? Just walk in and say, I’m poor, please give me a job?”

“Isn’t that what all job interviews are like?”

You laughed, not able to disagree, “I mean, I guess, yea,” you sighed, “Alright, fine. But I’m not talking to her alone.”

“You don’t need backup, Y/N.”

“Listen, I know your mom likes me, but she’s still one of the scariest fucking people I’ve ever met. So, you’re talking to her with me.”

He caved, the way you knew that he would. You followed him to the shop in your car, him on his bike. You laughed at the way he would speed ahead of you and force you to play catch-up. It felt like you were teenagers again and for a few minutes your heart felt lighter.

When the two of you rolled into the lot, things seemed quiet. The guys were working in the shop, and you looked around trying to picture potentially being here all day every day. You had no idea what that would be like, what you would even really do.

“Hey, baby,” Gemma walked up and hugged Jax, kissing him on the cheek.

“Hey, Mom,” he turned to you, “Y/N had something that she wanted to talk to you about.”

You pressed your lips together into a thin line—you should’ve known that he was going to hang you out to dry on this. He gave you a pat on the back and took off towards the clubhouse, leaving you and Gemma there outside the office together.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” she looked at you expectantly.

You sighed, hating that you were about to ask her about this, “Um, so…I’ve just been struggling to pick up a job on short-notice. Jax mentioned that maybe there would be a spot for me here? Just something short-term. I’m not trying to take advantage or anything—if there’s nothing you really need me for here that’s totally fine.”

She smiled, “There’s always something to be done around here,” she gently placed her hand on your arm, “We take care of our own. When can you start?”

You smiled with a shrug, “Now?”

Gemma chuckled, “Perfect. Juice needs an extra pair of hands on a repo run. You okay with that?”

You nodded, “Yea, sure. Will he tell me what I have to do? Because I have no idea,” you laughed.

She smiled with a slight nod, “You’ll be fine,” she waved Juice over, “Juice, c’mere!”

He jogged over, a smile plastered on his face as he looked at you, “What’s up?”

Gemma gestured towards you, “Y/N is working for us for a while. She’s going on the repo run with you today, that alright?”

He nodded immediately, “Yea, of course,” he looked at you with bright eyes, “Good to see you again.”

You smiled, nodding, “You too.”

You could practically feel him vibrating with excitement in the driver’s seat beside you as he drove. You tried to hide the smile that was fighting its way onto your face. You asked him what he even needed you to do when the two of you worked together. He outlined it all to you and it seemed fairly simple. You had to imagine that it wasn’t the most fun part of the job, but it was still something to keep the both of you busy for a little while.

On top of the repo, Gemma had called and asked the two of you to stop and pick up a few parts that she had ordered for the shop. You waited outside with the truck while Juice went inside to pick them up. He walked back out carrying two large boxes stacked on top of each other.

“Can you get the door?” he asked, voice slightly strained.

You chuckled, “I kinda wanted to see you try to pull it off by yourself.”

The two of you were halfway into your drive back to T-M when Juice spoke up, “Can I ask you something?”

You looked over at him, “Shoot.”

“Are you and Jax…you know…”

You laughed, “Dating?”

He shrugged, “Yea.”

You shook your head, unable to stop laughing, “No, no we are not. We’re just good friends. I love him but, yea, no,” you searched his face for a reaction, “Why?”

He tried to play it off, “No reason, just curious. You guys just seem close, is all.”

“Mhm,” you chuckled and went back to looking out the window, “If you say so.”

#soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #my writing #fanfiction #multichapter #chapter 1 #drabblesmc #you came back #jax teller #opie winston

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

Text

Good as Gold pt. 24

[part twenty-three] | [chapter twenty-five] [prostitute!jaskier masterpost]

For the first time, Geralt leaves Hagge feeling good. He's not overjoyed about leaving Jaskier behind so soon but having spent a week waking up next to him, Geralt is feeling hopeful for what's to come. And increasingly impatient to find out what's in the letter at the bottom of his bag. He's been given strict instructions not to read it until he's alone, but he hasn't thought of anything else since Jaskier gave it to him.

He manages to hold out the entire trip to Skellige, though he's called on his distracted behaviour more than once. It's hardly his fault, he's impatient. Spending a week with Jaskier was incredible, but leaving him again afterward was even harder than parting before winter.

Even before then, it was getting harder and harder to leave without him and Geralt has found himself wondering more often what it might be like to have a companion. Not that he thinks Jaskier belongs on the Path, but he'd rather have him close where he could protect him, even if bringing him along puts him at risk.

Geralt shakes his head, leaning his swords against the wall. He's been granted a room within the citadel and now, his task completed, he's ready to take his letter and head down to the hot springs to relax. Tomorrow he'll head back over the sea and back to Hagge, but for tonight, he gets to relax. Jaskier would be pleased.

As he makes his way down through the corridors, celebrations are still going on around him, but they've moved inside and he's no longer needed. Which is surprisingly nice for a change. He slips out into the night air without being noticed and makes his way toward the springs. Once upon a time, he spent days and weeks on Skellige, but not anymore, and despite his urgency to return to Jaskier, he'd like to have more time here. Though, if it's a choice he has to make, there's no question where he'll be come morning.

When he reaches the springs, Geralt strips out of his clothes, fishes the letter out of the pile, and steps into the water. It's hot, especially in contrast to the cool evening air and he sinks into it quickly, careful to keep his letter above the surface.

He shuts his eyes as he settles, leaning back against the rocky edge of the spring and letting the heat of the water seep into his skin. It's been a long time since he's felt this relaxed; even at the nicest inns and bathhouses, the water is never quite warm enough. This is a luxury not often found on the Path.

He stretches one arm out along the edge and spreads his legs, shifting to get more comfortable. Water swirls suggestively between his legs and a shiver runs through him. But this is no time for him to get carried away, he has a letter to read. But oh, it's tempting. He thinks about the springs back at Kaer Morhen, about taking Jaskier up there with him next winter, sitting Jaskier on the edge and sucking him off as the warm water swirls around him-

Geralt groans and his eyes snap open. Later, maybe.

He brings the letter up, tugging it gently from its envelope and unfolding it with care. It's still bewildering to him that Jaskieer would think to write, even without sending the letter, and he owes him his full attention now. The letter appears ordinary from the outside but Jaskier's handwriting is tidy and delicate, much like the man himself. Geralt smiles down at the scrawl and starts from the beginning.

My darling Geralt,

I realize your work is important and takes you far from me, but you should know I haven't stopped thinking about you since the last time. I miss your hands on me, miss the slick of your mouth, and the weight of your cock on my tongue. This may come across as inelegant, but you make me so, my dear. I find myself wanting more with every passing day, imagining the stretch of your cock inside me. If only you were here, darling, the things I would do to you.

Geralt tears his eyes from the words. His heart beats too quickly and the head already simmering in his gut from the water only increases. The hand resting on his thigh has slipped slowly inward and it's not quite brushing against his cock, but it's close. Something tells him he shouldn't, but Jaskier would appreciate it. Jaskier would probably be thrilled to find out he jerked off to his letter. Maybe it was his intention. Knowing Jaskier, that isn't even a stretch.

He turns back to the letter and if he lets his hand slip further between his legs, he can hardly be blamed for it. Jaskier is... blatant about his desires, detailing every little way he'd make Geralt come - every way he will when he returns. It's the filthiest thing Geralt's ever read in his life and while he's glad no one else will ever see it, he finds himself loving Jaskier all the more for it. Jaskier may be a horny idiot, but he's his horny idiot. And right now Geralt would do damn near anything to have Jaskier here, in his lap.

His hips roll up against the emptiness and Geralt reaches out, slipping his fingers around the length of his cock. He's hard already, unsurprising given the combination of hot water and the suggestive letter. He groans at the touch, squeezing a little tighter as he takes in Jaskier's words.

Geralt strokes himself slowly, imagining Jaskier's hands on him instead. He’s never seen masturbation as anything more than a necessity when sex isn't an option; he just makes quick work of it and moves on. His goal is release and nothing more, but he knows Jaskier sees it differently. Jaskier sees every touch as important, not just a means to an end. He would touch Geralt with care, with intent to pleasure rather than just to bring release.

Geralt has spent countless hours thinking about those hands on him, the way Jaskier would touch him. He does his best to mimic it now, slipping his fingers around the head and underneath to where it's most sensitive. He lets each touch linger, drawing or out where he normally wouldn't and he shifts to sink further into the water, submerging himself so only the very top of his cock breaches the surface.

He doesn't put the letter down, but the words become harder to focus on as arousal spreads through him, tingling down to his toes. Jaskier has always had a way with words, but Geralt has never felt it quite so viscerally as when he's detailing pinning him to a bed and making him come again and again and again. Geralt's cock throbs, aching for attention but he's enthralled in the fantasy. It feels like ages ago now, but he remembers Jaskier bringing him off over and over again, how even through the ache and the overstimulation, Jaskier made him feel amazing. And gods, if that's what he wants, Geralt is more than willing to indulge him.

His hips shift unbidden and Geralt groans as his cock pushes between his fingers. He knows it's needy and desperate, but he pushes down the discomfort knowing Jaskier would love him like this. He lets himself spread, imagining Jaskier's eyes on him, appraising him but refusing to touch and something about that hint of denial sends sparks right through him.

Geralt shuts his eyes and arches off the side, rocking into his fist as he imagines Jaskier standing at the other side. In his mind, he can hear each command and he abides by them, touching only where and when Jaskier tells him. But even the illusion of him is overwhelming and Geralt isn't going to last long like this.

He drops the letter beside his clothes, dipping his other hand beneath the water. He smoothes up one thigh and back down, reaching between his legs to press against his hole. He curses as he slips the tip of his finger inside himself.

It feels good, really good, and he understands why Jaskier is so set on taking things slow. But he wants Jaskier's cock, Jaskier's hands, Jaskier's mouth. Gods, he'd never realized how something so simple as kissing could make sex so much better until he'd been denied it. Now that's all he wants, Jaskier's mouth and body against his own, claiming him, loving him.

He presses deeper into himself, bringing a second finger up to brush against his hole and he lets out a low moan, working his hand quickly over his cock. The second finger pushes in and Geralt's panting, gasping for breath. It's like this, imagining Jaskier's fingers inside him, that he comes.

Geralt shudders through his orgasm, increased by the warm water still swirling around his cock. His thighs shake and his muscles ache from the tension, but as he comes down he goes limp, slouching against the side of the pool. He knew he was lost the second he laid eyes on Jaskier, but he never expected it to be like this.

Geralt lets himself linger in the warmth of the pool, but as the night air begins to grow cold, he gathers his things and returns to the citadel. In the morning he'll board the first boat back to the mainland and make his way directly back to Hagge. There are things he can deny himself and things he can withhold from others, but he's beginning to realize none of those apply to Jaskier.

Geralt barely sleeps, though not for a lack of trying. He's warm and comfortable, but he can't shut his mind off. He thinks back on the past few years and Jaskier's influence on him. There's no denying the way he's wormed his way into Geralt's life or that Geralt has had an effect on him as well, but he's struggling to come to terms with the extent of that.

He's been playing with the idea of inviting Jaskier along for weeks - months, even if he's honest with himself, though he's been growing more serious about it since staying with Jaskier. He's never given much thought to domesticity because it isn't an option for a Witcher; dwindling as they are, there will always be monsters to hunt, people to protect, and who would Geralt be to ignore their need in favour of a cottage on the beach?

But waking up next to Jaskier each morning, sharing his bed and bath and all the hours of the day, it's... not something he will soon forget. And since Jaskier has more than once broached the subject of travelling with him... Geralt wonders if he might still be amenable to it. He doesn't want to take Jaskier from his life of comfort, but there’s a selfish part of him that grows with every moment they spend apart.

So he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling and rehearsing what he might say if he does ask. He smiles to himself as he thinks about it and, as he shuts his eyes, finally drifts off to sleep.

There's a market down by the harbour and Geralt has time to spare waiting for his ship. He picks up some herbs and ingredients and just as he's about to turn back toward the dock, he spots a vendor near the end selling weapons. Geralt doesn't need much in the way of protection, but there's no harm in taking a look.

Only the first thing that catches his eye is a dagger - gold and green and pink with a jewel-encrusted scabbard. Geralt lifts it from the cart, turning it over and weighing it in his hand. It's got a decent weight and when he removes it from its scabbard, it's functional and surprisingly well-made despite its extravagance.

It's mostly decorative, but it could be a decent starting weapon and something is better than nothing. And Jaskier would surely appreciate both the thought and the adornment. Geralt's pulse quickens at the thought of giving it to him, of the meaning behind it, and he isn't certain whether it’s the right decision. But there's a shout from behind that the ship is coming in and he makes a spur of the moment decision.

As he boards the ship, he keeps the dagger tucked close to his chest. The weight of it is comforting somehow and before they even leave the dock, Geralt has realized there is only one way this is going to happen. Now that the dagger is in his possession and Jaskier has all but begged him to let him come along-

The thought terrifies and delights him in equal measure, but he thinks about Jaskier's face and there's no other option. He'd do anything to make Jaskier happy and this, he's surprised to find, he's sure will make him happy.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #prostitute!jaskier #good as gold #rex writes

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dysphxtric · 3 years

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Mental Illness - My Mental Health Story

TW: Depression, Anxiety, Self harm, Suicide, Sexual Harassment

“You should smile more.”

“It could be worse.”

“Just don’t think about it.”

These were the phrases I heard throughout all of my elementary and high school years. There was never a time when my peers and teachers, would not mention some bizarre, ignorant statement revolving around mental health. Not to mention, my family also contributed heavily to the stigmatization of mental health issues. Essentially, my family approached the subject of mental health with extreme hesitation, they refused to talk about how it affects people of all age, gender, ethical background (etc.) Every time I would say “I’m feeling lost” my family would automatically dismiss my frantic worries and it was not any different when I went to school. My peers would continuously remind me that my pain was not valid and that I need to stop being so sensitive. My primary parental figures, my mother and brother did not have the adequate knowledge or tools to be able to hold space for me. I would frequently hear my mom say, “I could understand someone suffering from PTSD feeling upset or sad but you’re so young and healthy honey, you have nothing to worry about” or the old classic “Someone else has it worse than you”. Whether I was at home or at school, I heard the same ignorant statements spewing out from what felt like everyone. And I could never comprehend what was the point of these falsely “encouraging” statements and why profusely use them? These kinds of statements do not uplift, nor do they empower those struggling with mental health issues, if anything it makes it extremely debilitating when your emotions are not acknowledged nor validated. One cannot expect to simply brush away another person’s emotion, thought or feeling as though it means nothing.

With that being said, growing up, I lived in a dysfunctional household alongside my mother, my older brother, and my grandmother. My mother would always be juggling work, schooling, and her dating life. My brother was very reluctant about staying home so he would always vanish after school, hang out with friends, party hard and engage with various street substances. Now my grandmother? It was not long after she immigrated that she began to immerse herself within the Jehovah’s Witnesses ideology and “religiously” strayed away from us as my mother likes to say. My mother was never fond of religious practices that were not “orthodox”. My grandmother wanted to indoctrinate my mom, brother, and I into joining her religious little club but failed which resulted in countless fights, yelling matches, and multiple dents left in our walls. The back and forth with the yelling was what scared me most in my childhood even if it was over something as small as not closing the cabinet door. I think it was around this time period I experienced violence/ trauma at home and truth be told I was extremely stressed and anxious all the time as a kid. My mother would cover the punched indents by taking magazines and sticking pages onto the indent. Often times my stomach would turn as I looked at the pages covering the area where my brother punched the wall with brutal force. Moreover, I felt impending sadness because all I ever wanted was for everyone in my family to be able coexist and not argue. I was trying to keep the peace between everyone, yet I was always the one that got caught in the middle of everything whether I liked it or not. I would get blamed a lot for trying to mend things for everyone. Even though all I wanted was the best for all my family members.

Fast forward to my pre-teen/ teenage years. By this point, my brother and grandmother were no longer living under the same roof as my mother and I. My brother was living with his ex-girlfriend while working as a security guard meanwhile my grandmother was living in her own little subsidized apartment preaching the word of Jehovah. At that particular time, my mother and I lived in a marvellous urban semi-detached house in a peaceful neighbourhood. My mother’s boyfriend had moved in with us and for the most part I was really happy because at least it was not just me and her.

My mother’s boyfriend lived with us while I was going to school. He was a really nice, caring and warm-hearted individual although I could never understand why my mother argued with him so much. I once told him “You should propose to her, I can see you two together forever” to which he replied with a welcoming smile.

But eventually just like with all good things, there comes an end. The inevitable breakup my mom went through was very bitter and I had to be there for her. Afterall, I was technically the only child that was around to emotionally comfort her. Ironically, the breakup occurred during the time I was being bullied in school. And it was difficult to be fully present for my mother while dealing with a lot of negativity at school. I had been experiencing cyber bullying on MSN by a bunch of peers calling me “weird”, “ugly” and “different”. To make matters worse, the group of kids that bullied me online ended up following me everywhere I went for recess which posed as a big obstacle for my well being. I had to eat inside the portables when teachers weren’t around or inside the girl’s bathroom stall just to avoid being teased. I never felt like I had a safe space to myself where I could be vulnerable and open up. Not to mention, it was a difficult time and there was practically no one I could confide in. I didn’t have a social circle of supportive friends, after all I was an antisocial person. Fear washed over me as I worried about disclosing my unpleasant experience to my mother because she was already dealing with so much, the heartbreak, the bills, work problems (etc.), it was then and there that I decided to lie instead of telling the truth. Ultimately, lying became my cooping mechanism to deal with the ongoing pain.

I kept up the lying for a long time in order to make it seem like everything was okay. I lied to everyone from family members to school peers to the teaching staff to principals to counselors.

For the longest time, lying sheltered me from all sorts of unnecessary questions. No one could really tell whether I was truthful or disloyal because I was able to make it sound believable. When I was a teenager, I continued to go down the same destructive path by being dishonest with myself and others. Many times, the thought of suicide crossed my mind and when I started to think about it and plan/coordinate the intricate details it did not hit me that something was very wrong, and I needed urgent help. A big part of the problem was that I was so used to downplaying my pain, given my family circumstance and stigmatization I experienced growing up with. There is no denying that I would engage in negative self talk convincing myself that I deserved the pain and suffering for not being likeable enough or for not being smart enough.

Sometimes I think that is the thing… people do not understand that I lied because that was what I was required to do in order to survive my childhood. I, myself do not tolerate lying and I think it is a form of betrayal and if I were to be completely honest, I would have NEVER lied to my mom had it been safe for me to express myself authentically in my household.

I did not live in a household where it was safe to speak my mind freely and disagree with my mother. Disagreeing was always the last thing I wanted to do, disagreeing meant I got the belt, my devices would get confiscated or that I was going to get grounded. They say, “Honesty is the best policy” and I do not disagree however, it is not as black and white as one may think. In my situation, lying was not only an adaptive coping mechanism but it became a survival mechanism to keep me safe from harm/threat.

I did not have very much individuality growing up. I felt as though having an opinion of my own was bad. In order to perpetuate this fixated mindset that I had, my mother constantly deemed certain attributed behaviours or thoughts as “good” or “bad”. So, say you were upset about a recent breakup with your partner, my mother would scoff and say, “You know life isn’t just about love right?” and play it like it means nothing to the person affected by the situation.

The first time I ever felt depressed was when I was 13. At that age I did not understand why I was feeling what I was feeling. All I knew was that there was something wrong with me. It did not help when I was being picked on by my classmates telling me “Go die”, “You belong in a ditch ugly bitch.”

The moment when things started getting out of hand was when I was first started my Art and Family Studies class in the same semester. In both classes I was placed into groups amongst other students. In Family Studies I had to be in a collaborative group that would divide responsibilities and tasks accordingly. When it came to cooking, my group consisted of four snobby, rich yet immature peers who were unwilling to help and contribute in any shape or form, I had to become the bigger person and sure enough I took all the responsibilities on myself. Though, it was not a smart move. But I was super shy and felt anxious to do anything different least to say speak up and advocate for myself, so I did what I had to do which was prepare meals, clean, and wash the dishes. At the end of the day, none of my peers thanked me, the only thank you I got was getting groped while washing the dishes and getting laughed at.

After what happened I ran to my best friend in tears to tell her what happened just to find her say “It’s not that bad, you’ll be fine” I felt like my blood was going to boil and I was about to start fuming. I stood thinking “Huh, that is so weird, is this how you comfort a person after being sexually harassed?”

Not to sound all grim but that experience showed me that no one really cared about me. No one cared that I got groped or how I felt in that moment. Let alone not even my “best friend” who was supposed to fulfill her role and be there for me. All I wanted was comfort and to be heard out. I could not even tell my mother about this experience until I turned 21 because of how ashamed I felt carrying around that experience and not having the ability to open up and mourn what happened that day and to be able to heal that damaged part of myself. I carried that incident with me for 7 years in silence because I was scared of being honest.

That specific experience was very detrimental to my mental health. Everything began to spiral out of control, I sprawled into a dark depressive state. I began to have intense panic attacks, insomnia, forgetfulness (etc.) After a certain duration of time, I had thoughts of suicide lingering at the back of my head. I questioned my worth, my identity, my culture, my everything.

The bullying and name calling persisted and became so intense that I ended up missing weeks of school time. Some of the boys in my Art class found it funny to make fun of my last name and call me “Prostitute”.

One day in the early springtime, my Art teacher noticed the marks on my wrists as I was painting and had not said anything until I made it to my last period class. I was called down to the guidance counselors office and was interrogated with questions.

“It has come to our concern that one of the staff members noticed cuts on your arms.”

I sat in silence trying hard to contain my anxiety.

“Are you struggling with depression or low mood? Is everything okay at home?”

It came to the point when I got so tired of lying about my pain that I admitted “Yes, I am struggling, I need help”. I dived into the bullying occurrences, the cat calling, my low grades, my self-esteem, the groping, my home situation (etc). After that, I was told that my mother would have to be called down to the school for “safety” reasons even though my counselor promised not to disclose any personal information to my mother. My greatest fear was that I did not want my mom to know that something was wrong.

Of course, my mom came to my school. She was told everything that had happened. I met her at the counselor’s office just to find her wailing in distress “You are such an embarrassment” and “Your counselor told me what you did, how could you do this?”. When the counselor gave us resources for help, my mother grabbed the papers and shoved them into the trash, got up and yanked me out the office.

The next three days that followed, my mother withdrew into her room not saying a word to me. I felt really uneasy and upset. She had her right to be alone but locking herself away from me and avoiding communication altogether? Didn’t make much sense.

I felt extremely guilty for not opening up to my mother sooner. But instead of choosing to be compassionate and caring she chose to resort to anger. She furiously blamed me for being “quiet” and “not trustful” which all landed on my shoulders again. It was “my” fault I thought.

Bottling this up resulted in a full-blown mental breakdown. I could not focus or concentrate because of everything building up. It came to the point where my mom had to choose between living in a toxic community or starting fresh elsewhere.

And even though my mother kept subjecting me to her harmful stigmatizations, the transition from my old school to my new one helped me greatly. When we moved away, I gradually started to feel better emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Very quickly, I ended up adapting to my new high school where I finally made friends.

One thing I cannot deny is that there definitely was a silver lining to all of this. Although I went through severe bullying and torment at school and home, I managed to reclaim my power and through that I discovered my inner peace after being extracted from my toxic high school. The new school that I ended up attending completely changed me and inspired me to become a more authentic version of myself. It was almost as though I did a complete 180°

My new peers and teachers were enthusiastic, open-minded and caring. The new community I was surrounding myself in was a very positive one that broke down stigmas and encouraged deep understanding and acceptance. My mind was blown when I found that it was easier to conversate with girls and guys at my new school, I was gradually becoming confident and more vocal, and I liked the feeling of not hiding myself away from the world. It felt rejuvenating to finally be heard and seen by others.

Slowly but surely, I began to partake in various activities at my school. I joined the Poetry Club which I would have never considered joining had I stayed back in my old school due to fear of how I was perceived. Ultimately, I started caring and nurturing myself more. My new friends supported me, and teachers began to openly listen to my stories and encouraged me to write. When I started writing, I realized that I could use this medium to cope with my depression and anxiety. The acknowledgment made a major difference in my life like never before.

If it were not for the transition from my old high school, I would have not made progress in developing into the woman I am today. I know that I am not my pain, I am not my mistakes.

Do I still struggle and have bad days? Yes, of course. Just like any human being I have my days when I am not feeling the greatest however, I am more open to learning about how to engage with my mind, body and soul in order to soothe myself during turbulent times. I still have that inner critic however, I have been engaging with activities such as bike riding, painting, drawing, and reading to help occupy my mind which as a result has reduced the time that I spend ruminating. Occupying myself has worked magic, I am now able to reduce and control how much time I spend self-loathing, criticizing, and judging myself. Rather than judging every thought, I’ve learned to slow down and observe.

If you stuck along until the end of my story, I want to thank you for reading through my experience. My hope is that my story can shed some light on the myths and stigmas surrounding mental health, especially within the Eastern European community. I want you all to know that you are ALL valid and I wanted to be able to share my story so that my readers know that they are not alone.

#mental health #mental health awareness #depression #mdd #mood disorder #anxiety #gad #my story #hope #bullying #narcissistic parent #end the stigma #recovery #fyp

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minniepetals · 4 years

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Rose & Thorns: 03

— summary: a lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other. and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

— pairing: dragon!jungkook x reader x dragon!jimin / future!bts x reader

— genre: angst / poly!au / fantasy!au / dragon!au

— word count: 6.0k

— warnings: orphan reader, insecurities, other members are still jerks but better here, insomnia, reader not eating, mentions of Jimin’s bad eating habits, emotional/physical health risks, hurt and comfort

╰ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

The thorns grew and grew drastically over just one night.

A night filled with terror, of coldness, of the hard floor below you, and bars of rusted silver that kept you a prisoner of the dragons.

In the dungeon where no one could hear you, you cried your heart out without fear of being heard. No one would care anyway and you were sure that all along, they wanted to find some sort of excuse to keep you as a prisoner rather than a guest to their clan.

They got what they wanted in the end and there you were, sleepless nights passing by with little hopes of Jungkook visiting. But you knew that with the days going by and he had yet to come by, he was either still severely injured or he was already sort of healed and the princes denied him access to the dungeon.

Rather than a wall being built around you, they were the thorns that encircled at every angle from your sides, surrounding you everywhere and that, that was an even harder obstacle to escape.

Dealing with others was a little easier but to be kept alone with your thoughts in the dark and deep dungeon was the biggest mistake because you could easily be torn apart all from just you alone.

Everything around you, you became to fear.

Silence, it was all silent. Even more silent than the silent glares and thoughts from the other dragons when you had once nested in one of Seokjin's medicine nests. And with that silence, your thoughts became the thing you feared the most.

"What's the point in giving you food when you're not going to eat?" The head of the guard, prince Jimin, scoffed as he came back for another round to collect the plate of untouched food in his hand. "This can fill our dragons yet we have to waste it on you. The least you can do is eat." And then, he walked away, footsteps draining from your ear with each step he took.

You couldn't eat. Not in that state.

What was the point of being a prisoner anyways? You'd rather rot away than to live on behind bars. It was something you never imagined would happen but things were changing and each day only got worse and worse. If only you lasted one more night without being a complete incompetent, then you would have left the dragon clan on your own will.

But fate really liked playing around with you, didn't it? After all, you were one of the few who didn't deserve a happy ending.

"Y/N?"

You gasped at the familiar sound of heaven, an angel coming to your rescue and the tears fell more and more.

From all that crying you had done the past week, you didn't think you'd have more to spear but there they were, spilling out from your eyes the second you caught sight of Jungkook who stood on the other side of the bars, wearing a white sleeveless v neck shirt and black jeans. The bandages on his left shoulder peeked out and you cried a little more because it was your fault again. Your fault he had gotten hurt.

"Are you alright?" You asked him and Jimin who stood a few feet away, hidden from your focus, blinked in confusion at your first words.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had tears welled up in his eyes at the sound of your weak voice. The sight of you made him want to punch the thick walls out of frustration because if he hadn't said anything about that Jinyoung dude, you would have never gotten sent into the dungeons. Yet despite the position you were in, behind bars and haven eaten nothing, your pale complexion and the bags under your eyes from sleepless nights, the first words you asked of him was whether he was alright or not.

"Why are you asking me that?" His voice cracked as he reached out with hands that trembled to hold your face through the bars. You were selfless, the most selfless person he had ever met. Despite hurting on your own, you only cared about him. "You should be worrying about yourself, Y/N," he scolded you, drops of tears falling away as he brushed away your own tears instead. "You should be asking your own self whether you're alright or not and blaming me for putting you here in the first place."

But you shook your head, sniffling. "It isn't your fault. Jinyoung went after you because of me."

Jungkook's face crumbled in pain. "Will you stop blaming yourself for once?" He asked, hiccuping as he went, crying for you. "Will you start caring for your own happiness and health instead of everyone else's? Stop being selfless for once and care about your own self."

"I'm fine."

"You're dying and I can't do anything to help!" His loud voice bellowed against the walls as he punched at the bars, causing you to flinch back. Jungkook's cries followed him throughout the airy corridors of the dungeons, all of it Jimin was hearing.

What was so special about you that they had lost their maknae to? Why had the maknae cared so much to the point where he wouldn't speak to any of them anymore because they kept you locked up behind bars? Jungkook should've known that you were the threat and that they were only trying to protect him. But he was blinded for some reason and wouldn't listen to a word his hyungs were trying to get into him.

And it was all your fault. You changed Jungkook.

"You aren't fine, Y/N, nothing about this is fine," the man went on as he clutched the bars tightly, angry at the fact that he couldn't just rip them apart to reach you. The bars were far too strong for him. It had been built that way for the longest time so that any prisoner that was held in could never escape. If he could rip apart the bars, however, he'd want to hold you in his arms, keep you away from all harm and let you cry against him. But he couldn't do anything and could only watch as you stood there barely able to even stand due to the loss of energy and strength and that was what was killing him the most.

"It wasn't supposed to go like this," he whispered, head leaned against the bars. "I was supposed to give you a home, not lead you to live behind bars. We weren't supposed to switch places."

Jungkook could still remember the first day you approached the silver bars he had been locked up into, a peppy voice that called for him, deeming yourself as the keeper of the dragon. No one had been brave enough to guard a dragon, only you. But perhaps it wasn't just the bravery that held you accountable, perhaps you had taken that job in order to escape the eyes of the villagers, in hopes of finding someone else who would accept you because he was also different.

Jungkook listened, each and every day, to your endless stories. Some of them were of you growing up as that brave child who fell at no one because even though she was a child with no parents, she wasn't going to let that define who she was. Sometimes the stories consisted of adventures outside of your village, your imaginations leading you so far as if you had indeed conquered all of the lands you could reach.

He could still remember those shiny eyes that glowed of a thousand starlights, the beaming smile, the giggles that were music to his ears.

But as he looked at you now, your light dimmed, giving into the darkness, frail and weak, eyes filled with glossy waterfalls waiting for the dam to break down so that it could flood away freely. He reached through the bars again, holding your face with gentle touches as if he was too afraid you'd break under his hold, as if you were made up of some delicate glass. And he cried some more for being the one to cause your smile to vanish.

"I'm so sorry," Jungkook whispered and Jimin could hear how broken his voice was, how Jungkook wished he could do something about it but not having enough power to do so, and his heart ached at just the sound his mate was making.

"One day we'll be happy again," he continued on, "one day we'll find that beautiful smile of yours again and you'll never have to cry again except for the tears of joy."

We.

Jimin's hands balled into a fist, knowing exactly how much his little maknae had fallen and he leaned away from the wall, stepping back and away, leaving. He couldn't hear it any longer. He couldn't bear to hear any more of Jungkook's silent love for you.

"Promise?" You asked of the dragon in front of you.

Jungkook nodded and a few more tears fell. "I promise."

"Eat."

You looked up at the presence of Jimin who knelt down in front of the bars where you sat on the other side, arms hugging your knees due to the coldness of the dungeon.

"Please," he said and your eyes widened, surprised. A part of Jimin wanted to just leave after placing the plate in front of you, he wanted to scoff at his useless plead and not see you for even a second more but the longer he stared, the harder it was to not care about how weak you had looked. There were no tears in your eyes but it looked as if you could topple over and break at any moment. He could see the signs of insomnia, the frail part of your arms where your dress was torn, and the eyes that looked dead. Dead but alive. And for a moment he almost felt bad for what he and the others had done to you.

But then he was reminded again of the reasons as to why you were locked up in the first place and he looked away, sighing with a bit of annoyance.

"Jungkook refuses to eat unless I report back to him that you've eaten and I can't lie to him. He'll know and I can never bear to lie to any of my mates."

Jungkook?

Your eyes fell at the plate of food provided for you. You had no desire to eat despite your empty stomach. You've learned to ignore your growling stomach the past few days but hearing the fact that Jungkook was going to refuse to eat for your sake, your stomach churned.

"You have to eat," Jimin said, "for his sake," and with a bit of hesitation, "and for yours."

When he came back a few hours later, the plate wasn't empty but he could see some clear signs of you haven eaten and left without a word after collecting the plate.

"You better not be lying to me," Jungkook glared at the man in front of him, a serious and firm tone set in his voice.

Jimin sighed and showed him your plate of food to which Jungkook was quick to smile at, only for it to slowly disappear as he stared at the amount that was still left on the plate.

"She didn't eat all of it," he uttered lowly with a bit of disappointment.

Jimin sighed, putting the plate away on an empty table as he began walking off. "You can't expect her to eat everything all at once after going on a fasting for days, Jungkook, that's not how things work."

"But shouldn't she be hungry? Why-"

"If she stuffs herself fully, she'll harm her health even more. She isn't going to be eating much for the time being, her stomach has shrunk."

"Shrunk...?" His voice whispered.

Watching his mate walking away without another word, Jungkook's eyes fell back down to the floor after being reminded that of course Jimin would know. He's starved himself before due to insecurities and the anxieties that ate him up.

A soft sigh left him as he was reminded that once again, he was no help to the ones he cared about.

"Who's Jinyoung?"

"Jinyoung?" You looked away with a bitter taste on your tongue as you said the name. "He was...an admirer."

"Admirer?" Jungkook's face scrunched up with disgust and a bit of anger at that distasteful word.

"He's the captain of the soldiers and, well..sort of found me attractive so he decided to try and win my heart."

"I'm assuming that didn't work out too well on his part?" Jungkook scoffed, wanting to laugh because no one would be worthy enough to win your heart. No one deserved you.

"He couldn't take the hint," you told him, eyes falling distant all of a sudden. "He kind of lusted over me and some days he'd try to follow me into the dungeon when I'd go to meet you but I always refused every advance he'd make. Every time we saw each other, he'd tell me that I should be happy someone wanted me because...you know...no one in the village really liked me."

Upon hearing your words, Jungkook held onto the bars with a tight grip as his jaws clenched tightly. "He has no right to say such a thing," the dragon growled. "I swear, if I see him again, I'll rip him up into pieces for saying such-"

"Jungkook." You touched his hands and that was enough for him to calm down, to remember that he was in front of you, a vulnerable human who needed all the hugs and love in the world.

"Sorry," he coughed a little awkwardly, sitting back down properly. He wondered why that little touch was just enough to have him blushing, why your voice and touch alone was enough to calm his mighty self down.

You giggled a little at the cute dragon in front of you and Jungkook's head shot up, eyes widened before he turned into a grinning sun.

"Keep doing that."

You blinked. "Huh?"

"Keep smiling, Y/N, keep laughing, keep being happy even if it lasts for one second."

"Jungkook..."

His eyes teared up again, throat clogging as he looked into your eyes. "I miss it," he told you, "I miss your smile so damn much. I miss the stories you'd tell me, the little laughs you'd give yourself because of something funny you'd say. I miss you being happy."

You could only stare at him for a second longer before your eyes fell to the floor because the both of you knew that if you were going to be truly happy, you'd have to leave the dungeons first.

"Jungkook," Namjoon's hands balled into fists as he watched the youngest of the seven getting up from the dinner table, "let me ask you something." The maknae paused in his tracks, taking his time as he took a deep breath before turning around to face his leader, asking him silently to go on. "What does that human mean to you? You seem to care more about her these days."

"It's only natural," Jungkook bluntly stated.

"What the hell do you mean it's only natural?" Yoongi growled. "Have you forgotten who we are?"

"We're your mates," Taehyung stressed.

"And she-"

"Isn't your mate."

"I didn't say she was," he glared at Hoseok before staring back down at the floor. "She's my friend, someone I care a lot about. Have you not been hearing anything I've been telling you?" The maknae asked, frustration clear in his tone as he looked up, challenging the others. "She saved my life and you're putting her in the dungeon, the same place I used to reside in yet you ask me why in the world I care so much. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be back here safe in one piece. She risked her own life for my sake, left a world that hated her to find a better place only to be hated on again for no apparent reason. Instead of blaming her for everything, maybe you should look past your stupid jealousy selves and see the truth in this."

And with that, Jungkook stomped away without letting any of them utter another word.

While the rest of them sighed in frustration, Jimin, on the other hand, sat there silently staring into a blank space. He didn't know what to do, but perhaps not everything had been your fault after all.

"Are you okay? You look a little frustrated." You looked at Jungkook with worry filling your face, a little pout resting upon your lips. "Did something happen with your mates?" You worried.

He sat there with his knees bent and a little spread apart, forearms resting against it and hands meeting to hold at the center. "I don't think we'll ever be truly happy again if they don't set you free."

Your heart fell for him, aching at how broken he looked. "I'm sorry."

"No," Jungkook shook his head, sighing, "don't apologize."

"But—"

"I'll fix it one way or another," he said cutting you off. "They're my mates, I won't lose them forever. I'm just angry at them for doing this to you."

"You shouldn't blame them, they don't know-"

"Which is why they should listen to me but they aren't!" He ran a hand against his hair and let out a grunt of frustration. "Sure I'm the maknae and they're older and wiser but there are some things that I know more than them, like being locked up in a dungeon against my will. It's lonely and scary and you've always helped by just being there which is why I try to get permission to come down here but because they resent you for no reason, I can't come here as often as I want to."

You looked at him with eyes of sympathy. Jungkook loved his mates and they loved him, they were made for one another, which was why no matter what feelings you had for Jungkook, you had to keep them away because he had his own soulmates. You couldn't ruin that relationship for them. So you decided that if you were ever set free, you'd leave the mountains and travel on your own for their sake. It'd save their relationship at least, you leaving. After all, the only reason why it had begun to fall apart was because of you.

"Don't get angry at them for too long, Jungkook."

Jimin, who was walking towards your cell after leaving the dinner table, paused in his steps at the sound of your voice and waited. Waited to hear what you were going to say.

"Try to understand them, listen to each other. They have their own reasons for things and if you only see that you're right in this, then it'll only frustrate them even more and you'll end up never resolving this problem. You're both alike in that sense, you're both wrong because of it. Don't think that everything you have to say is right because I'm sure they're hurt as well over the fact that you're refusing to listen to them. Face this challenge with a calm and mature talk and maybe then they'll listen to what you have to say."

"What if they don't listen to me?"

"They'll listen," you were sure of it. "You're mates, Jungkook, and they love you. But you have to listen to them first."

After hearing your words, the head guard took a step back as a small smile curled at the corner of his lips. Perhaps you were right. Perhaps that as soulmates, they should listen to one another before letting anger and jealousy get the best of them.

"Why don't you sleep?"

You looked up at the sound of Jimin's voice and blinked in confusion. Why was he awake in the middle of the night? (you assumed it was the middle of the night since the dungeon was nowhere near a sky that could tell you the time)

"You lay there awake every night," he said notably. "Are you insomniac?"

You sat up from the cold, hard floor with a bit of trouble due to your loss of strength. There wasn't much light in the dungeon, you could only see a little bit of Jimin's face after having adjusted to the dark room. It was lighter at daylight where some of the sun's light passed into the dungeon but the night made it completely dark.

"It's not that I can't sleep," you told the dragon, "it's just...it's scary."

"The nightmares?"

"That and..." You looked at the floor, a little embarrassed for yourself. "I can't sleep without some bit of light," you confessed, "the darkness scares me. It was easier sleeping in one of prince Seokjin's medicine nests because the moon shone some light but here, there are no windows. It's completely dark."

"Oh," Jimin whispered.

The room was silent for a long moment until you heard some footsteps walking away and you looked away disappointedly. Sure Jimin probably hated you but to have someone there to talk to you late at night had helped from thinking about the scary things at night.

You missed the light. So, so much.

Yet it was stripped away from you just like the light in your heart. If only you could have a physical light, if only. Because at least that would keep you a bit of company. The darkness was scary.

Your breathing became a little staggering at the scary thoughts invading your mind and you could feel your tears beginning to fall.

It was scary. So scary.

The thoughts, the darkness, every noise you could hear even if it had only been just the wind.

But then you heard the footsteps again, this time with a flickering light and your head was quick to look towards the source.

You crawled yourself over towards the bars, holding onto it to search for the light. It was just a little but something you wanted so badly.

It grew more and more until you caught sight of Jimin. Jimin who came walking towards you with a candle in his hand.

You watched him curiously, eyes following his every move even until the moment he stood in front of you.

"Will this help?" He asked, crouching down to your eye level with the candle in hand. The sight of your tears made his heart ache. Just a little. "It was the only candle I could find here," he said, looking away from you because he knew that those tears alone would weaken him. Jimin hated tears. "It'll burn away before dawn arrives but hopefully by then you'll be asleep."

"Thank you," you whispered into the silent night, voice a little broken as you sniffled and wiped away your tears. "Thank you so much."

He didn't know why but seeing you like that, hearing your voice, he wanted to take out his keys to unlock the door and pull you into his arms. To keep you from crying, to hold you so that you'd feel safe and secure despite your living environment.

"You shouldn't thank me," Jimin said shamefully, "I was one of the people who brought you here in the first place."

He sat the candle down and stood up, ready to leave you be.

"Even so," he stopped at your voice, "I needed a little bit of light and you gave it to me. So thank you, prince Jimin."

Totally different from what you had ever thought about, Jimin became the person that replaced Jungkook's safe presence.

He brought you a warm blanket and pillow, apologizing for the dungeons not having any beddings mostly because the only prisoners they've had had only been dragons, and he was there to make sure you had eaten. Even if that meant a little. Because a little went a long way and Jimin didn't force you to eat any more than you'd take.

Maybe he understood how it felt. Maybe he knew what it felt like to try and heal through the process of eating again. Whatever his reasons to try and make you feel comfortable in the dungeon, whether it was on his own will or because Jungkook had begged him to, you were nevertheless thankful for every kind gesture you never knew you'd ever receive. Thankful that it was he who had the role of the head guard.

The night became a little less scary with him there. He brought back a new candle each night, spoke to you and you'd make little conversation here and there until you fell asleep. Some part of you felt as if Jimin was there to make sure you'd indeed sleep rather than staying awake all night with thoughts that'd haunt you. His small conversations would keep you away from thinking about anything scary or bad, kept you distracted when night fell upon the clan. Some nights you'd worry because some nights were worse than others. You kept your tears away though, for his sake, and because of the fact that you didn't like crying in front of someone you weren't really used to.

He had a castle to return to, soulmates to sleep with, but kept awake doing his duties. You were probably the only prisoner at the moment and the reason why he stayed away late into the night, only leaving when you finally fell asleep. Some nights you'd pretend to sleep just for his sake, so that he'd be able to head home to his mates a little quicker.

And for every night he stayed up for you, you silently thanked Jimin who became that light source you never knew he'd be.

"Wow," Jungkook looked at you in awe as he sat down in front of the bars, a smile resting upon his face at the sight of you. "You've gained some light since I've gone."

"Have I?" You asked, touching your face gently out of curiosity. There were no mirrors in the dungeon so you had no idea how you looked but took his word for it. Jungkook never lied after all.

"Sorry, by the way," he apologized, head hung in shame as he pouted because he was ashamed he couldn't be there for you as often as he wanted. "You were there for me all the time when I was locked up but I haven't visited for a while."

"That's because I was the keeper of the dragon," you reminded him a little teasingly, "it was my job, Jungkook."

At the lightness in your tone, Jungkook beamed. "Thank goodness," he sighed in relief and his eyes glistened with a few tears but he was quick to blink them away. "Thank goodness I can hear this voice again."

You smiled a little and his lips widened.

"It was Jimin, wasn't it?" You looked at him with a bit of confusion and Jungkook looked away, chuckling a little to himself. "Jimin can't hate someone forever, that's just how he is. He never resents for a long time because his kind heart refuses him to. You can tell with that," he gestured at the blanket and pillow just behind you, "to keep you warm through the night and this," he held up the shortened candle that had melted from the fire the night before, "to keep you from being scared of the darkness."

"Ah.."

"When Namjoon sent you to the dungeons, a part of me was a little relieved because you'd have Jimin watching over you, I knew that he'd eventually come to care at one point or another. Sorry it took so long."

You shook your head, a tight smile on your face. "I'm better than I was, you shouldn't apologize for something you had no control over."

"Either way," Jungkook looked back at you, "I haven't even done anything and Jimin's already starting to care about you. Maybe that's your magic." You cocked your head to the side. "You're easy to like, Y/N, once they start looking past your history and see you for just you. You're easy to like."

To fall in love with, he wanted to say but refused himself to.

It wasn't right.

If only he was able to face the truth, if only he could understand the things he was feeling without feeling any guilt towards himself and the others.

But as Jungkook stood in front of his hyungs a few hours later, minus Jimin who held the responsibility of watching over the prisoners, he was conflicted on what to say.

"What we're worried about is the fact that...you've changed."

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes to try and keep himself calm and situated. He promised you that he'd listen to them, to try and save his relationship before things could get any worse.

"I've changed?" He asked Namjoon, wondering what part of him that they saw had changed.

"Ever since you've come back from the humans, Jungkook," the healer replied, "you've been more distant and worried every day about the human girl."

"I have a right to."

"Perhaps you do," Yoongi nodded though a little hesitant, "perhaps you feel responsible because she saved you."

"Or perhaps you're worried for a completely different reason."

He looked up at Hoseok, brows furrowed. "Why do you think that?"

"We're mates, Jungkook," Taehyung reminded him. "Seven mates. And because there's more than just two in a relationship, we can see and understand when the others are in love with one another. We've gotten used to it and so have you."

Jungkook couldn't deny that. He's seen the way one of them looked at his other hyungs, the soft smiles that would lift upon their faces at the sight of another returning home, the sigh of relief and worry for when one of them got hurt. It was always there, from the first moments they found love within each other. He knew that feeling, seen it since years ago.

"The reason why we're upset is the fact that we see that with you towards the human girl."

He gulped at Namjoon's declaration and a rush of guilt rushed through his body all over again. He was hurting them and as much as he tried to not think about you in such ways, Jungkook couldn't even if he wanted to.

"What's so special about her, Jungkook?" The eldest asked, his eyes filled with pain. "Why a human girl?"

"I know you all don't have good pasts with humans," the youngest acknowledged as his lips pressed into a thin line, nodding slightly. "I know that humans are vile creatures who see us as animals who has no worth but to be a slave. And maybe I would've still thought the same back in that dungeon after getting caught by them but..." his voice trailed off and the memories of your beautiful voice and smile walked into his mind. "When I said that Y/N saved me, I also mean that figuratively."

His voice began to soften but they could hear every word and perhaps that alone had begun to hurt each of their hearts, watching their littlest mate fall for another.

"The dungeon isn't fun, it's dark and scary and so, so lonely. I used to cry silently to myself because I regretted ever leaving without telling anyone, because I missed home, because I missed you guys. But Y/N walked in like a little firefly who gave me a little bit of light, a little bit of hope in freedom again. She'd go on and on about all sorts of stories, sometimes laughing to herself at her own jokes and dumbness. Sometimes I'd think to myself that if it wasn't for her voice and presence, I would have gone crazy staying there in that dungeon all alone without any contact with the outside world. She was the only one brave enough to stay beside a dragon all day long until her duties were over, returning every single time without missing a day."

"When I finally spoke and showed her my appearance, her eyes would be the prettiest stars I had ever witnessed, and her smile would glow of the brightest sun. She'd steal some clothes from her own villagers to keep me warm, stole their medicines in order to treat my wounds, and went against the rules to steal the keys and take me out of the dungeon despite knowing the price to pay was her own life. She took that risk because of me and that's why I brought her here." He looked up at them all, eyes filled with grief and tainted with tears that brimmed at his waterline.

"I brought her here because she never had a home back at that village. Everyone treated her like crap yet when she met me, she treated me as an equal even though she had never received love of any sort. I brought her here because I thought that you'd try and accept her for who she was, human and all, and give her a home she never had from the moment she was born."

You never gave up searching for love, any kind of love. Whether it was family or the love from a another. Despite the unfair treatment you'd get, the rude stares and nasty comments, you kept your head up and stayed being a kind pure soul who always gave back love despite never receiving it. It was something Jungkook always admired about you, the fact that being hurt several times allowed you to never stray away from giving kindness towards others.

You continued smiling for him to keep him from feeling lonely in that dungeon, to keep him smiling even when you wanted to vent all your problems to him and cry until you could cry no more. And then he began to realize that perhaps the smiles you had given him back in your villager's dungeon, they were filled with a broken story, the silent call for freedom and love in return. Silent tears he couldn't see because you hid everything so well.

For at least a day, Jungkook wanted to know how it would feel to see you genuinely smile and laugh and be a happy little girl who loved no matter how much the world hated her for the first time.

A part of the guys still felt rather jealous to hear Jungkook's soft words for you. He began caring a little more for you, sought for your attention, and was always so excited to visit you after his daily hunting patrols. You were a human, something they weren't too fond of due to the bad relations they had in the past. But maybe not everything had been your fault.

You did save their little prince, brought him back to them. They should have at least thanked you but it was their jealousy that drove them away from the gentle dragons they once were. Maybe you weren't at fault for everything but it was your people who captured Jungkook in the first place and had hurt him again.

Yet watching Jungkook in front of them, blinking away his tears so that he didn't have to cry, a part of them felt horrible for the way they treated you.

"Your highnesses!"

Their heads swerved over at the sudden doors to the throne room opening abruptly and a knight ran in rushingly. He knelt in front of Jungkook, a little breathless from running.

"Prince Jimin asked for you to come to the dungeons and wishes for Prince Seokjin's presence as well."

Jungkook's brows furrowed in confusion as he looked back at the eldest, their eyes meeting with the same unspoken question. But if Jimin called for a knight to send both him and Jungkook, then that meant that you were possibly at risk.

His eyes widened and a gasp left his lips. Without any more hesitation, Jungkook ran out the doors before anyone could stop him.

Running to you.

2K notes · View notes

romeulusroy · 3 years

Text

Being Pollys Long Lost Child Would Include: (Part #1)

Showing up the Small Heath with nothing but a suitcase and a vague idea of where to go

You actually run into your cousins/brother before you even know who they are on the way there

Breaking through their group right down the middle, unaware of who the Peaky Blinders are

A few yell or tease, but you don't care, not when it's this important

Telling Michael to fuck off when he makes a comment about how rude you are, unaware he's actually your brother

Still, you won't let those assholes ruin your big day

Staring down the front door

What does someone say in a situation like this?

Sorry I didn't visit sooner, I never knew you existed? Did you ever give up a child so many years ago looks like you? Do you have any kids?

You barely knocked twice before the door swung open

You weren't sure who to picture. . . . the woman all those people described seemed like a million women. . . Sometimes she was a mastermind, other times a drunk, she could be feared or admired, smart or stupid. . .

Instead all you saw were her big brown eyes and look of distrust

"Yes?"

"Are you, uh. . . did you. . . I'm y/n, I think you might be my mother."

The statement comes out stuttered and flunky, but it's strikes her none of the less, leaving her quiet for a moment

Anna was dead, Michael had come home, but they never found her baby

She couldn't let herself get her hopes up, knowing anyone could have set you up to this now that business was growing and so was their list of enemies, but she couldn't deny you if it really was true

Against her own judgement, she let's you in before anyone sees you

She knew she shouldn't have, but when you're sitting there, before her, she can picture all the times you were a baby

How your features matched, though of course that had been a long time ago, maybe she was just making it up to match for her own good

She thought about you every day, about the life you could have lead, the person you would have become, it made her sad, but hopeful, the same way she felt when she thought about Anna

You let her look, and after a while, she spoke up

"What did you say your name was?"

It's not the name her baby had, but you were so young, she figured they could have renamed you the way Michael's parents had

You found yourself telling her everything, talking before you could stop yourself or even realize what you were saying, wanting to unveil something that would convince her you were hers

From your parents, to your siblings, your grades in school and all the detentions you'd gotten, the friends you made and the hobbies you had

You never told anyone about all the times you felt different, strange, like you didn't quite fit in, and yet you were telling a complete stranger all of it and more

It wasn't until you mentioned your baby blanket, the one you'd actually brought with you, did it catch her attention

That was one thing your parents neglected to change

Polly was the one to sew the holes in it, passing it down from your siblings to you, she recognized her own stitching

Suddenly you're in her arms, being called another name

You found her, you found your mother

If Polly could have kept you for herself, she would have, knowing the kind of world you were walking into, the dangers you would face by associating yourself with her

In return, she tells you about your brother and sister, stories about you as a baby, memories coming back before she can stop them

The time your sister dressed you up and pretended you were one of her dolls, when your brother thought he could trade you in for a puppy

Like Michael, you're thrown into the family before you know what's going on

The boys burst through the door, all of them talking at once, interrupting your time together

"What are you doing here?" You question, recognizing Michael

"Me? Who the fuck are you?" The two of you look to your mother and Polly knows, just by your fighting, you're her baby

Being introduced to an army of relatives all at once

Your cousins are welcoming, friendly, the oldest ones laughing, teasing about how chubby you were as a baby

Your attitude towards your brother doesn't change, he's a pain in the ass already, but you'd never had an older sibling before, you figured he wasn't the worst of the worst, right?

Besides, you barely know one another, you hope it'll get better the more you get to know one another

It doesn't take her long to explain the business

You're curious, and observant, two things that work in your favor and against your mothers

You're not naive either

Sure, you didn't grow up with any of this, and though your parents tried to shelter you, you always knew where to find trouble

The way they cling to one another, how the crowds disperse, the mere mention of your family name, the gleam from their caps, this was not the kind of business one would brag about being part of, at least not in the company of others

You weren't stupid

Still, Polly tries to keep you away, at a distance, as do the rest of your family

You're still a kid in their eyes, but you make that pretty hard

It becomes clear what your parents were trying to hide from you, protect you from, but you weren't scared like they were, you were fascinated

It also becomes clear how easy you fit into it all, becoming a shadow to your mother, your brother, anyone who will let you follow and watch until you show them just how much you've learned

This lifestyle was dangerous and addictive, and like the rest of your family, you understand the appeal, much to your mother's dismay

Eventually she lets you in, let's you practice shooting a gun with your brother, go to the bar with your cousins, sit in on family meetings

Her one rule is that you are never, under any circumstances, alone

You take to the lifestyle quite easy despite her fears

The feeling you've always had where you never could quite fit in with your family, your siblings, even the kids around you, it all went away

Being paired up with Finn a lot since you two are the youngest

You don't mind all the time though

He teaches you a lot of tricks with his brothers, the other blinders, ways to get people to listen to what he has to say, share all their secrets

You prove yourself not only worthy of the Gray name, but also your place in the business as well

You don't quite idolize Thomas as much as your brother does, and when you can't bite your tongue any longer, it can get you into trouble

Luckily, your mother is always ready to stick up for you

She catches herself calling you by the name she gave you, and though you're not quite ready to take it, you know she means well

"Fuck off, Michael."

"I'm telling mum you said that."

"Snitch."

Fighting with your brother becomes normal, not all out of hatred anymore, but a constant, dull annoyance

You begin to find your place here, in the job, the family, everything

Part of you hates to admit that you don't miss who you used to be, who you thought you were going to be

Your parents knew you were smart, but they always assumed you'd live a life like theirs, one of safety, predictability, a life that was boring

Here, you had a life of excitement, danger, one that kept you on your toes, where moving up in the world was something to work towards, not just dream of

Polly knew what you were leaving behind, and she wouldn't have stopped you or blamed you if you decided to turn back, but it was the happiest day of her life when you knocked on that door

You were giving her the second chance she always wanted

Your parents, on the other hand, are anything but happy

You call home a few times, assuring them you miss them, you're thinking of them, you might visit, and that you're happier than ever, but your parents know something is up

Word spreads quick in a small place like yours

Rumor spread you'd run off with a secret partner, skipped town after getting into trouble again, joined the circus

The more time that passed, the crazier they became

But your parents knew

They should have suspected you were lying from the beginning, that you were after the one thing you' d always asked about, that you figured out all along what they'd kept secret. . . . .

Now they regretted not seeing it before

It takes a little while for them to figure out where you went, where Polly ended up, but they found you again, and they were coming to bring you home once and for all

A/N: Ahhh okay I know I kinda left it on a cliffhanger!!! I hope this part was as good as the first!!! There might be a third idk yet :P

#headcanon #polly gray #polly gray headcanon #peaky blinders #peaky blinders headcanon #series #ennasfavorites

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minty-chocco · 3 years

Note

You want to write angst~? Okay! May I request headcanons for the first years getting rejected by their fem!crush? Thank you~

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 🧁

Extra Note: Yay thank you anon~! This was quite dramatic tbh.. maybe because of experience? lol. I’m sorry I couldn’t grasp Sebek’s personality since there’s so little information about him and his cards can’t really give me a full image of him. Anyways to the first years: Welcome to the rejected squad! o(≧∇≦o)

Ace Trappola

Ace already knew that you wouldn’t return his feelings since he’s quick to catch up on things and decided to hold his feelings back. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by being rejected and atleast in this way he could still keep his friendship with you. But you can tell he was lowkey salty about it.

Why would he do something that he knows that will result in a rejection anyways? But even when he accepted his reality, he still can’t help but like you even more. The more you hide your feelings, the more it grows I guess.

He decided to confess to you just to get over it. If you reject him face to face he can finally have a closure to his feelings and a sign to move on. Ace was so good at hiding his feelings that you didn’t notice he liked you at all until his confession. He’ll be casual about it and say it in a joking manner so that when you reject him he’ll just say he’s messing with you to escape an awkward situation.

The troublemaker would just bitterly smile when he heard your rejection. He already knew what you’ll say but he still can’t help but feel this bitter feeling build up in him. Maybe this is his karma now for ghosting his girlfriend in the past. Although, he did have a tiny speck of hope that you wouldn’t reject him at all.. only for it to flicker out fast.

Deuce Spade

Deuce would often talk about you to his mom. He talked about how you were such a great person and how he would want to be friends with you longer. He didn’t even realize his own feelings until his mother pointed it out herself, sighing at her dense son.

Once he did though he was all blushy towards you that yourself and even outsiders would even notice his feelings. Ace would often tease him because of it. Deuce didn’t really want to confess since he lacks confidence in doing it. He feels like he isn’t worth it to be called your lover.

But he was encouraged to do so and it was a big mistake, really. Now Deuce wanted to own up to his feelings and be a man! When he confessed to you he was stumbling on his words and you could really tell that this was the first time he ever confessed to someone. He promised to be a worthy man deserving of you!

Too bad you had to reject him though. Deuce was mainly embarrassed, apologizing over and over again for making you uncomfortable. All his insecurities came back to him at once. Is it because of his past as a delinquent? Is he not good enough? Will he ever be good enough at all? This experience would surely be remembered in the future, he would always question himself about it. You were his first love.. And you were also his first heartbreak.

Jack Howl

Jack wouldn’t really confess to you when he likes you only for a few months. It would be when he liked you for more than a year, he would be willing to take the risk. You two would probably be 4th years or graduates by then when he decided you’ll be the person he would want to spend his entire life with.

Before confession, he would court you in simple methods. He’ll offer to carry your books, making sure you’re eating well, being protective of you, etc. You could tell about his advances but he would often deny it out of embarrassment but you can see his tail slightly wagging. His ears would always perk up at the sound of your voice.

Jack would confess in a place where it gives you two privacy and no one would be able to hear your conversation. He would be quite shy in doing so, scratching the back of his head while looking away.

When he got rejected he didn’t know how to really react. He would just look at you with an unreadable expression and mutter an apology before turning his back. You were the one person he chose to cherish his entire life but now that he was rejected.. Now what? All those years of liking you has gone to waste. Will he ever find someone else? His clan’s policy is to cherish only one person your entire life and that one person he wanted to doesn’t even reciprocate his feelings. *sobs* you’re not alone, Jack

Epel Felmier

At first, Epel didn’t really know how to act around you since back at his hometown there were barely anyone his age there. It was a little struggle for him on what to act around his peers let alone his crush.

He just did what he observed from his grandparents but also tried to do something original in his own efforts and not just by copying others. The pomefiore student would carve apples for you because he likes it when your face lightens up at the sight of his works and praising his talents.

He just adores your smile and it makes him feel proud of himself that he was the one reason behind it. He likes you because you make him feel like a man and didn’t treat him less than others because of his feminine features.

When he confessed his country accent accidentally slipped due to his nervousness. The shy expression on his face turned into anguish by your words of rejection. Epel would grit his teeth and turn away without saying anything, not wanting to show his tears as he feels ashamed. The heavy feeling in his chest felt like a burning hot coal placed on it, slowly burning him inside but it did not cool at all. It continued to throbbed and torture him while running away and there was no relief to be found. Ah, so this is what it feels like to be brokenhearted huh.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek followed Lilia’s advice in what to do in wooing someone. He’d give you letters and when the 25th full moon came he confessed to you. He shouted his confession with an obvious blush tinted across his face that the moonlight reflected on his features.

When he saw your hesitant expression though-- he already knew what will follow. Sebek didn’t give you a chance to speak before he excused himself out and said that he needed to attend to Malleus but you both know that was a lie.

He wanted to get away before you say something that will break his heart, it’s better this way than hearing you say the words he’ll resent outloud. It was foolish of him to even confess. He’ll regret his actions over and over again and would blame himself for getting ahead of himself. He should’ve been focused on serving Malleus instead than getting distracted by these feelings.

Sebek would avoid you for some time because he doesn’t know how to cope with your rejection. The diasomnia student would train for hours to get rid thoughts of you. He’ll try to act as if nothing’s wrong and act like what he does as usual, being a dignified knight but he knows deep down that he’s just lying to himself. He’ll distract himself with activities refusing to acknowledge his feelings and push it deep down to bottle it all up.

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈! 🌙

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #jack howl x reader #epel felmier x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #twst x reader #twst first years #freshly baked cupcakes

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kissme-hs · 3 years

Text

Tainted Love : 2

Here’s awaited part 2 of our recent heartbreak. I would very much appreciate the feedback and suggestions for further improving my writing skills. Also, thank you everyone who showed me love and support it means a lot. I haven’t proof read it so I apologise for any mistakes. I hope you all like it!!

-Ria

Warnings: none

Pairing : Reader x Chris Evans

Tainted love : 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once a cheater, always a cheater. If you can let you heart drag your feelings from the person you believed you loved to a stranger who’s looks were so mesmerizing it made you tremble break the trust your person put in you, you are nothing but a sinner. The sin of crushing someone’s heart for your greedy needs, the heart which would die to give you love is worst than any other.

You thought this whole time Chris wasn’t the one to be blamed. You thought he went to seek comfort and warmth which you failed to give him for a few days. You thought he felt lonely just because you were working so hard to be accepted in his glamorous world. The blame was on you, as per YOU. But oh boy how wrong you were. The kind heart you carried took the blame of Chris’s sin. Poor you who thought maybe just maybe if you gave him your time things would be different. You left thinking maybe this is what fate wanted.

No.

It was never you. Being a kind person came with cons of being taken advantage of. You neither were neither dumb to be fooled easily nor were you the cleverest not once not falling for someone’s fake tears. Your generosity was one of the beautiful traits that made Chris fall in love. Your empathetic self always tried helping the world as much as you could. You were indeed a piece of art he chose to love.

The fault wasn’t yours. He knew. He was aware of how much you were working hard to be accepted in his world of fame, to stand up to expectations of his fans and people surrounding him in being The Chris Evans’s girlfriend. And he appreciated it. Chris was grateful for what you were doing. He was thankful to the lord for bringing such an angel in his life filling it up with joy and happiness. For giving him someone who loved him so dearly he felt the world moved beneath his feet. He was so in love with you even till the date he was on top of that lady. But the thing is, it all did not start when you became busy, it all started way before.

He wouldn’t like saying it was a mistake because it wasn’t. A mistake is an action you do unwilling without any intention. The very first second she pressed her lips to his and he kissed her back was unintentionally as it was a reflex respond of his lips getting used to kissing yours. But the moment after when he pulled her back in grabbing her by her throat was the minute he lost his defense of calling it a mistake. He was well aware and sober enough to know what he was doing. None of the actions ‘just happened’ he chose to do it. It was his own decision sneaking out of the house just to get a taste of her. He forgot about the woman lying beside him dreaming of a beautiful life for the both of them. No longer had Chris started enjoying the feeling of her body connected to his. The new taste got him addicted. The growing lust overshadowed the emotions he had for you.

“I love the way you take me in baby” Chris bite her ear as he thrust in her body bringing himself to the edge.

“Just like your girlfriend does” She smirked and for a second it felt like the realization hit his mind. He looked at the lying lady beneath him and searched for the face he fell for but couldn’t find it. His mind wandered to your face taking in your beauty but the feeling of lust overcame his thoughts.

“Even better”

The feeling of devastation was real as you stumbled out of the house with an aching heart. Your eyes were blurred with the tears he caused you caused because in the back of your head it was your entire fault. The sound of your clicking heels echoed the empty parkway as you quickly rushed to get seated in your car before getting noticed by your neighbors or hiding paps. There was no sun out that day. The sky was dull and grey and soon you heard the rain drop on your roof. Seemed like the universe was helping you, signaling you to let the pain out as you let out a loud cry. If anyone stood outside, it’d hard for them to figure out that you were yelling In ache because of the rain muffling your broken voice.

Every sob reminded you of the time Chris promised you he wouldn’t make you cry.

But here you were sitting with broken promises and tainted love.

Even though Chris was finding someone else attractive, it didn’t mean he stopped caring about you. He missed you with every breath he took, he missed you when he looked at the photos hung on the wall, he missed you looking at the t-shirts you’ve worn. He knew he was up to no good when he decided to still keep holding onto you when he was seeing someone else. He would not deny that he is as selfish man when it came to you. Him fucking her, never changed the fact that at the end of the day it YOU who he thinks of. So when you were almost two days late coming from the business trip he panicked. Yes, he should’ve called to check on you but that’s the thing. There were bare phone calls, bare test messages, bare kisses and almost to nothing of I love you’s.

His mind blurred with the most regretting thoughts, none of them close to him cheating on you but instead something bad happening to you. Little did he know, you already saw the worst of all.

“Hey where are you” He typed in biting his lips, the little voice in his head hinting that you might’ve come across to his dirty little secret but brushing it off he hit the send button. And the wait began. He waited for an hour, two hours and soon he fell asleep waiting for you to text him back. He was sprawled on the couch when his phone buzzed awaking him from his little dream-land.

“Hey Chris,

I came home. I was standing right in front of you but you were so blinded by the beauty of your mistress that you couldn’t see the girl you love once loved. I am sorry for not loving you enough Chris. I am sorry you felt the need to seek love from someone else. Only if I was able to give you the happiness you wouldn’t have done what you did. Please don’t be mad at yourself because I know you will, because I know no one can stop you from caring about me. The way you look at her tells me enough to let you go. And so I will. I hope you find happiness in her. But it won’t change the fact that I still love you, dearly and heavily like I always did.

Take care,

I love you Chris.”

With just mere words he felt his world crashing down. He can’t imagine the pain you felt when the man you loved was fucking another girl in the same bed you made love on. For the first time the guilt crawled up his throat as he let out a gasp, his breath became heavy and his hands went cold. How could he never even once think what would happen if you saw it? How could he not. Just imagining you in bed with someone else feels like getting punched in the guts and makes him want to strangle the man then how could he do the same to you. And oh poor you, he thought. Took the blame on you, left him to be without putting up a fight.

For a second he was disappointed hearing you just give up but then he realized, he was the one who started it. When he saw her working hard day and night he should’ve held you tight, telling you how much he loved you, how much he appreciated you but instead he carried on with his little fling.

His eyes picking up tears and his stomach churning with regret. He did not know what to do. The shame was eating him alive knowing he had the best in the world but he still went for something which was nothing but an illusion.

He promised to give you the love in fairytales but gave you a tainted one instead.

—

Sorry if this didn’t turn out as you thought it would. I wanted to keep things real and based on my personal opinions I would never give a person who cheated on me a second chance.