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nyyrami · 28 days

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WHEN THEY HAVE A NIGHTMARE . . . synopsis. sleep was meant to be a break from the terrors of the normal day world. but even sleep is not escape for your lover and nightmares plague the crevices of their mind…

tags. satoru gojo x reader, nanami kento x reader, toji fushiguro x reader. angst. hurt/comfort. nightmares. mentions of wounds and battles.death duh.

a/n. i love this trope sm i genuinely don’t know why lol. if you enjoyed a like or reblog would greatly be appreciated ty <3 dk why gojos one is so long, sorry I got carried away with it… this is not proofread so don’t come for me sfter spelling errors this was rotting in my drafts.

GOJO SATORU was no stranger to nightmares. as much as he would like to say he was unaffected by his battles. he was human at the end of the day and like a human he would suffer trauma from it. it was only when he’d met you and he first slept in the same bed as you that the nightmares ceased. wrapped in your warm, soft arms. it was as if he were being protected by some unknown force and the horrid dreams were driven away. but they were never gone always and some days his mind would recollect what occurred during the day—or even what happened years ago…

‘‘—suguru, stop—wait.’’

satoru runs through the crowd pushing past mindless civilians. they all have the same look on their face. that they have somewhere to be, and that this pesky boy pushing them was dreadfully annoying. he wouldn’t have cared. only that suguru wore the same face as them. he doesn’t know why he ran after his criminal friend. maybe he wanted an answer? or a reason on why he would leave behind everything. leave him, Y/N, shoko. he couldn’t fathom a reason on why he would do such a heinous crime—

‘‘what satoru? what’s done is done, we can’t turn back time and change it. im done trying to.’’

the world fades to black like spilled ink on parchment, his dear friend with it but sugurus purple eyes remain. a stark light in the darkness he can only hope to hold on to. but like sand it slips through his fingers and away and he curses. at himself or suguru? he doesn’t know. only that he wishes he were so much stronger. he knows he will never be.

satoru is somewhere else again. this time a familiar alley. the sun is setting the distance casting a beautiful glow. satoru has grown. he is no longer the boy he was years ago. he’s a man now and he has a family. one he can call his own and cherish and love. but now looking at the person sitting infront of him, he doesn’t feel like a man.

suguru sits on the alley flaw, clutching his now lost arm. blood is everywhere. his robe is torn to shreds leaving his chest bare and exposed but satoru can care less about that now. now he’s focused on his dying friend who he wishes to say a million things to but he doesn’t know where to start.

should he tell him he’s now married? that he’s so happy now? that he misses him? that he wishes he could come back? satoru cant bring himself to say anything.

‘‘…at least curse me a little at the end..’’ his purple eyes are twinkling in the low light and satoru realises he’s never realised how beautiful sugurus eyes were until now. how ironic in that moment he remembers you commenting on them one summer evening. saying how they were prettier than even gojos blue eyes. how they speak a million things in no words. the world slips away and all turns white for a split moment and satoru is suspended in time. he is everywhere and nowhere.

he is seeing all his memories at once rushing past him like birds in flight. he wishes to hold onto the good ones but they escape his reach.

soon he is another place again. this time it is unfamiliar. he sees you. standing in a train station, your back is turned to him but satoru can sense something is wrong. he could sense your problems a mile away no matter how hard you try to hide them. he calls your name and you turn.

slowly but surely you look at him and your eyes widen, arm stretching out to touch him. to feel him. he walks toward you, like a magnet. a bang echoed a throughout the quiet hall and it takes him so long to realise the bang is from you.

it happens so quickly satoru doesn’t even react in time. he stand frozen in his step arms reaching out to touch your saying figure, but the light has gone out in your eyes for some reason and your looking at him but your aren’t.

you fall to the ground with a loud thud and you can’t help but remind satoru of a dead body. he hopes you aren’t one but the hole in the back of your head suggests otherwise. your fingers twitch for a second and satoru holds onto the hope that you may well still be alive but it dies with you too.

he cries out, screaming your name to no avail. shaking your shoulders in an attempt to wake you up from your sleep. ‘‘—‘toru.’’ satoru is blinded by grief, his blindfold off and his blue eyes out he takes in the world with hyper awareness but it does nothing but reaffirm that your—

‘‘satoru—’’

satoru is shooting up. the covers of his bed falling to his waist revealing his bare chest to the cold but he couldn’t care less. his body is trembling and for the first time in what seems to be forever, he’s scared—

‘‘satoru, darling—its okay, I’m here.’’ yes you are. you are untouched snd unhurt. satorus six eyes confirms but the lingering feeling of believing you were dead haunts him. your arms are around him in seconds, his head now laying on your chest.

for the next few minutes, for the first in time in what seems to be forever, satoru cries. his arms wrapping around your waist he digs his head deeper into your chest, his grip turning hard but you couldn’t care less. your attention was on your husband.

for a few minutes you sit there. satoru relying on your heartbeat to keep him calm, he slowly regains his composure but the dull tremble in his limbs is still there and no matter how much he tries to breathe in and out it remains. you rub soothing circles into his back and he looks up at you from where he lays, you finally see the whites of his eyeballs have gone red from crying and the blue seems to be shining even more than usual.

‘‘’toru. wanna talk about it?’’ he shakes his head. later. you would speak about it later when he was more comfortable but now he would rest. after what happened it seems the energy has finally left his body and he yawns. despite what had just happened you can’t help but find your lover cute. sliding back under the covers, he once again wraps his arms around you. this time entangling his legs with yours. his feet are dreadfully cold. ‘‘i love you, satoru.’’ you whisper into his hair. you can practically feel his smile through your shirt.

‘‘’m love you too.’’

NANAMI KENTO was a busy man. during his time as a normal working person he didn’t encounter things he would say were, traumatising. it was only when he returned to the jujutsu world that the nightmares returned. the last time he’d ever had them were following the death of his friend, haibara.

nanami walked through the streets of Tokyo. eyes roaming the many people and shops. nothing seemed out of the ordinary. everyone was on their way either to work, school or some place else. it was the perfect day. the sun was out and the cloud was littered with bright white clouds.

summer had always been the best season in his opinion. not for the great feeling it brought or even the great weather. but the fact that it reminded him of his long gone friend. haibara. he’d died back in his jujutsu days. hat’s why when nanami stopped in the middle of a bustling crowd, eyes hooking on a familiar figure, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

haibara stood a few feet away from him. in his usual jujutsu uniform he wore all those years ago. he looks unchanged. still the young boy at school. unawares of his fate. nanami swallows the lump in his throat away and he wants to say something.

say what exactly? he thinks, say that he was sorry? for not saving him? for not finding some way to save him? for not being strong enough? he knows what happened wasn’t his fault in the slightest but survivors guilt stands strong.

haibara speaks and his voice is surprisingly the same. the passage of time brighter dulling it not evolving it with growth. it’s a haunting reminder that in-fact he is dead. he always will be.

‘‘…why didn’t you save me, nanami?' you could’ve. you should’ve.'’ yes he should’ve. no, he couldn’t. but the guilt is a never ending well and nanami has fallen down it once again and he can’t find his way out. he runs to his friend but he can’t be stopped. he falls like water to the ground and the scene switches.

this time nanami is standing infront of haibaras body. or what’s left of it at least. his friend is cut in half, a thin trail of blood leaking out of his mouth and sliding down his chin. in another world he would’ve scolded him for his mess. in another world it would’ve been drool, but the bright red is obviously blood.

the pain is a dull throb this time. he has felt this pain already before, the feeling is nothing new.

the body changes and to his shock, it becomes you. your staring at the sky, eyes dull and unresponsive. you looked beautiful. with the way your hair spilled around your shoulders like pools or maybe it’s the slight upturn of your lips that hint a smile is coming.

what were you laughing about? he wouldn’t ever know. maybe that’s why he’s calling your same, begging for an answer. begging you not to leave him like haibara. he can’t afford to lose you too. the one who’s laid claim on his once broken heart. sown together the broken fabrics of his heart. with you he felt complete. the only person since haibara who ever elicited the feeling out of him. nanami opens his eyes and he is no longer looking at your dead body.

instead he is on his bed, in his home. throwing the covers off his sweating skin, he sits on the side. head in his hands in order to calm his breathing.

minutes pass before he hears the rustling of the duvet and your warm arms wrap around him from behind. he can tell you’d just woken up from your sluggish movements

‘‘—kento.’’

you take in his slightly trembling form and all sleep leaves you. you proceed to sit next to him quiet but a reassuring figure. you don’t ask him what caused him such distress but you can guess by the way his hands hover above the scars he gained all those years ago.

nanami finally relaxes. his heart calming, he lens into your touch. featherlight and soft. it doesn’t take him long before he’s in your arms, lying on your chest and sleeping once more.

TOJI FUSHIGURO had a hard job. one many would definitely die on but he was different. and as cliché as it sounded, he was built different. for all those years he lived with the zeni’in clan he acquired a cold heart of stone.

a defense mechanism to stop himself from getting hurt. that was until he met you of course. it seemed for the first time in his life he wasn’t living on his feet all the time. he relaxed in your presence. laughed and even cracked jokes.

he didn’t know how much of a lover man he was before he met you. he thought he wasn’t capable of such love. how you turned his life around, he didnt know.

hed just come back from a mission one he’d gained a few injuries in but nothing bad. you still fretted over him. making a hassle when you saw his blood soaked shirt. he wouldn’t deny it, he did love you hassling him about his safety, it was quite endearing. you’d went to sleep not long after, toji following suite.

toji stood in a familiar house of tradition Japanese architecture. everything screamed, money, wealth and power. something the zen’in clan prided themselves on. power brought you more money and wealth in the jujutsu world, toji was no stranger to it. ‘‘—you don’t even have any cursed energy, you mistake.''

toji had not seen the members of his clan in years. their faces now blurred in his memory’s so much he believed he had gotten over what they did to him, but now their voices always made little toji stiff backed and immediately sweating.

the man behind him had white hair and a pointed moustache but his face was a blur of colour. it seemed he’d forgotten what exactly they looked like but their voices were as clear as the day.

the harsh slap through toji off his feet and to the ground with a loud thud. a few specks off blood flying out of his now bruised lip. he’d also apparently forgotten that they beat him on the regular. ‘‘—you stupid monkey. look how weak you are—cant even fight back.’’ the man’s harsh words were followed with a brutal assault of kicks. toji cursed himself, he’d never be strong enough to fight back against these demons of the zen’in clan, no matter what he did so he took the abuse. the man kicked for what felt like hours, only stopping when he was breathless and toji was bruised all over.

‘‘you should’ve died in the womb.’’

he should’ve, he thought. he should’ve died as an infant rather than face the shame of having no cursed energy. he’d never amount to anything in there eyes other than a filthy monkey. suddenly, the man became enraged. he yanked toji up by the collar of his robe, bringing him close to his blur of a face.

‘‘your no son of mine—’’

the world faded to black and toji opened his eyes to a quiet room. he wasn’t in the zen’in estate. he wasn’t in the—

he shot up. arm reaching for the knife he kept in a daw on the bedside table. unbeknownst to him, the movement stirred you from your sleep. you awoke, groggy eyed and confused, the space where toji was once sleeping was empt, him now standing by the balcony of your apartment.

‘‘toji, what happened—’’

your words cut off when you saw the glint of something sharp in his hand. a knife. he was holding a weapons, but why— had someone come? questions flew around your brain score your eyes caught the glint of clear liquid on his cheek. you pieced two and two together and came to the conclusion he’d woken from a bad dream.

sliding out of bed. you walked up to toji, making sure not to startle the tensed man before you laid a warm hand on the expanse of his back. toji still didn’t turn, his face dutifully turned away from you. to hide what you already knew, you guessed.

trailing your hand down his arm, you hovered over his rock hard grip on the handle of the knife. coaxing him to let the weapon go. it didn’t take long before the muscles relaxed and he allowed you to take it away.

you didn’t speak for a few minutes before toji turned to fully face you. dried streaks of tears on his cheeks. he wasted no time in gathering you in his arms. his head hiding in the crook of your neck. you rubbed soothing circles into his bare back and before long you guided him back to bed whispering sweet nothing into his mop of dark hair.

©SATURVUE do not copy, repost or plagiarise my work. likes and reblog sre greatly appreciated <3

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru angst #nanami kento x reader #nanami angst #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #toji angst #honkai star rail #genshin impact

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memospacexx · 3 months

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we need a part 2 of the absent father alastor, the first part was amazing 😭

Age wasnt mentioned last part, this pne they are hinted to be 13-16 :3

Im writting this in the passenger seat cos i REALLY LOVE THIS MY GOD

Perhaps this was his punishment all along

To have his own child turn their back on him

But he knows its his fault. As much as he wouldnt admit it to a soul he knows. Hes self aware but it doesnt make things better

After he reappeared when the hotel was fixed, it seems like the child stuck with husk even more, sometimes even downright avoiding him

Him?

But hes their father

HE raised them

Right?

He tried, tried to hard to recall memories to back up his point but he couldn’t. All he could remember was him dropping you on husk

Like some cheep booze.

I suppose this was the weight of his actions

He could do nothing now, but that didnt stop him. Hes a hard headed man afterall

It started with him asking you to accompany him at his radio station, something you loved and begged him to before

Always asked to go with him, oh how you loved his voice

But he never did allow you to

On good days he would, but even then those were rare

So hes the one bringing you now!you wouldnt turn down some time with your deer old dad right? Specially how you used to even beg for his attention.

…

No? What do you mean no? Dont you love going ? Dont you love radio? Dont you love. Him?

“Uhm no thanks father i wanna watch husk do magic” you could never truly look into his eyes

Even when you called him father it felt so..

Forced.

But he grinned and bared it “I understand little doe! But you know where to find me” he chuckled and walked away

He could do magic too. He could do magic better. So why husk? Hes stronger, more capable of protecting you, he could protect you better than husk ever could, there was no need for you to cower under that horrid sinners wings because your father, your blood, could protect you

But he never did. Not when you got in trouble for running into some loan sharks, he let you fend for yourself

Pain was the best teacher

He would say

So he threw you to the wolves. How ironic.

That ended as horrible as you’d think, the only reason you got out there alive is because vox, yes, him, out of everyone killed the demons when he noticed it was you, he was just passing by, going to another meeting from one he just left

He recognized you, he knew of alastors offspring but never cared for them, his business is with their father. However, even then this was cruel, and he knew that deer was watching everything

He could feel the eyes on him. On them.

Vox watched as you scampered away, like a deer, like a doe.

Even then , he thought alastor would atleast have compassion for the child

His child

But he was wrong, he gave that bastard too much credit.

Even rosie, a demon that doesnt share the same blood as you, treats you kinder than your own

After that incident, you refused to go out as much, opting to stay with …husk.

Husk, dear old husk, he never minded

He hated it at first tho.

Having to babysit, he didnt like you either

But he knows, he KNEW it wasnt your fault either, he knows you wanted to spend time with that absent father of yours

So he tried his best filling that void in your heart, he felt pity for the little child, so he told old stories of his life before he was damned,he says they’re boring but the shine in your eyes and smile on your face whenever he speaks never fails to amaze him

he even taught you how to play poker

Charlie reprimanded him for that, saying he cant teach a child how to gamble

But he didnt care

You were smiling

Laughing

It wasnt much but it was enough

Enough from him

Enough for you.

It made his blood boil, it wasnt fair. Alastor would think

Why cant you look up at him with admiration?like how you always looked when you were younger

Yeah

Maybe this was his punishment.

TAG LIST;: @ghostdoodlen @lixanjewel @crowleysthings

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x child reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x child reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #kinda sad but its alastor lets b fr #alastor x reader #alastor #husker #husker x reader #husker x child reader #husker hazbin hotel

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sister-lucifer · 1 year

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Hear me out: Lucifer comforting and praising you while he absolutely destroys you

tw: overstim, male reader, kinda dub con ig?? idk the word for it but reader protests but doesn’t really mean it, Luci always has a safe word for u dw ✨

You can’t remember how long it’s been since you started, and there’s no end in sight. You knew that a demon would likely have more stamina than you, but this is torture.

You’re screaming for him, every muscle in your body trembling as you writhe beneath him.

“Please, Lucifer! I cant, I— I-It hurts—!” You cry out, but it doesn’t cease. You’ve cum so many times you’ve lost count, you’re falling apart under him.

“Shhh, shhh,” He replied in a hushed tone, “You’re doing so well…You’re okay, you’re okay…”

“Noooo!”

He shushed you once more, pulling you into a soft kiss that clashed against the way he was jackhammering into you. You couldn’t kiss back; you merely whined against his lips.

And just when you were thinking that maybe, just maybe this is as bad as it gets, Lucifer reached down and wrapped a hand around your cock.

You cried out, voice shrill and broken as you thrashed. You clawed at his hand, trying desperately to pull it away from your throbbing member.

“Luci, no—! I can’t, please! M-Make it stop!”

“Shhhh…”

Your strength was completely depleted. You had no fight left. You went limp as you gave in, your words fizzling out into nothing but pathetic noises.

The only way to warn him of your approaching orgasm was frantic, stuttering calls of his name. You couldn’t even yelp as your back arched, your mouth going dry as your orgasm washed over you. You could hardly even feel it over the overload of pleasure, but you knew it had happened when your own warm cum fell across your heaving chest.

“Oh sweet boy, there’s so much of it,” Lucifer cooed down at you, “That pretty cock just can’t stop…”

Fortunately, Lucifer’s release wasn’t far behind. You hardly flinched as he came inside of you for the umpteenth time. You swore you could nearly feel your stomach swelling from being filled over and over again. If nothing else it brought a short moment of rest.

“Look how well you’ve done,” He praised, leaning down to kiss your forehead. A gentle hand ran across your tummy, rubbing where he could tell you’d been filled.

You thought for a moment that maybe, just maybe he’d had his fill, but you couldn’t be more wrong.

He flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your ass into the air and giving it a playful squeeze.

“You’ve been so well behaved, I’m sure you can go a little longer, can’t you?”

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me smut #lucifer #lucifer obey me #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #obey me x reader #obey me x male reader #male reader smut

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bunny-yan · 2 months

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VALENTINOOOOO 😫 UGH that last fic of him was good omg; begging on my knees for MORE Also;; the hint of mascoism? 🙈 is his thing for biting more a claiming thing or a biting thing? ALSO ALSO maybe he should wear a mask next time he breaks in so we cant see his face but he'll be able to look at us properly 🤭

I think it’s more of a you kink than masochism, but he would definitely break out into a goofy ass grin whenever the wounds caused by your teeth would start hurting him. Maybe he’s a masochist and just doesn’t know it TW: mentions stalking

—

You knew it was late before you opened your eyes. A sixth sense that suggested your nap had gone on longer than you initially planned for it, too.

Body heavy with sleep, you rolled onto your back, attempting to rub the sleep out of your eyes, grateful that you had turned off the lights before you collapsed. Stretching languid, you blinked. It felt as if your hand was moving in slow motion as you shifted to lie on your other side.

Freezing when you noticed an undeniable figure cloaked in the shadow, it was hard to miss the plain white mask that shielded everything but those rose-colored eyes. Your own were wide, your body struggling to inhale as your mind attempted to comprehend if this was real. Deciding the unmistakable dread was a sign this wasn’t a dream, the exhaustion fled completely as your mouth opened wordlessly, mouth dry.

He must’ve noticed.

The moment you found your lungs capable of producing sound, his body shot forward, a hand over your mouth before you could blink.

Wide eyes stared into the stranger’s as he slowly pushed you to lie back.

“Shhhhh,”

You struggled to comprehend what exactly was going on. You knew it was just hard to wrap your head around. Hard to put a face, or at least a body, to the countless notes and gifts that previously seemed to magically appear in your apartment.

But it wasn’t magic, and those things didn’t just appear. His presence was unmistakable.

There was someone in your apartment.

He had been watching you while you slept.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice would’ve been soothing if it didn’t feel as if every muscle in your body was locked like a spring compressed. “I didn’t mean to stay for as long as I did, but you were sleeping so peacefully. It was hard not to watch.”

He had the gall to sound embarrassed.

Unable to move, to think, you could only wonder if this was actually happening.

“I’m actually glad you woke up. I’ve been dying to get a chance to actually speak to you.”

You waited, but he simply watched you. At his pause, you managed to lift a shaky hand to his wrist, and despite not being able to see his mouth, you could tell he smiled from the way his eyes lifted when your fingers wrapped around his wrist before tugging at it.

“Promise not to scream?”

You nodded slowly, not sure if it was complete and utter bullshit. What were the chances of him getting angry if you yelled for someone to help you?

Humming, he didn’t appear to believe you, but he slowly removed his hand, fingers lingering to brush a knuckle against your cheek.

Swallowing to bring back some moisture to your throat, your eyes looked into his. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for a moment.

“Are you V?” you asked, remembering the elusive signature at the end of the letters he’d write, wondering if he was offended to find them in the trashcan.

His eyes became alight with excitement. “You remembered.”

You couldn’t help the uncomfortable smile, anything to break this awful tension. “It’s hard to forget the name of someone constantly breaking into my apartment.”

He chuckled, the sound catching you off guard as you continued to watch him. He sat next to you on the bed, expression unchanging as you stupidly glanced towards the door. It was hard not to resist the urge to bolt, but he appeared as if he wasn’t worried about you going anywhere. It only made this situation more unnerving.

“It’ll take a lot more than a couple of changed locks to keep me out.”

His tone was light and playful, but you read the seriousness behind his words. The reality sitting comfortably in front of you.

It was strange. You never imagined that you’d be able to have a conversation with your stalker. Sure, you imagined cursing him for destroying your sense of security, your ability to trust anyone around you, but as he sat in front of you, seemingly eager, your mind was blank. Empty of the words that plagued your mind, you thought of the millions of scenarios of how this encounter would happen, but him hovering over you was not one of them.

“What are you doing here?” you managed to say. Unsure how he’d react if you moved from the awkward laying position you were in, you blinked, trying to swallow whatever was blocking your throat as you at least managed to tilt your head down to see him better. You fought the urge to launch off of your bed and make a break for the door. There was no doubt in your mind that you wouldn’t make it two steps from the way those pink eyes stared intently, watching your every move.

He seemed to be holding back urges of his own.

Urges he didn’t act on, given the clear fear and discomfort in your eyes. He might’ve been hurt if he lacked the common sense that a stranger watching you while you slept in the middle of the night was something that would frighten most people. He’d hoped you would’ve felt more relaxed in his presence, but he would be patient. You would come to understand that he would never do anything to hurt you intentionally.

Smiling, he moved to lay next to you, and while you were grateful that you no longer had to look up at him, it was unsettling how natural he made this seem. Laying next to you as a lover would. As if it was something he’d done before.

“You left your clothes in the dryer. I finished folding your laundry and after putting the towels in your bathroom, I got… distracted.”

Your laundry.

He broke into your house, picking brand new locks that you put on the door today… to do your laundry.

The smile he wore turned into a half-grin. “You’re looking at me like I’m crazy, but I’d use anything as an excuse to come see you.”

You couldn’t help the way you flinched as his thumb came up, unrepentant as he caressed the side of your face.

You couldn’t understand him. You don’t remember how this even started.

One day, you were living life normally, hating your job like any other person who was forced to work yet lacked the skills to do something they would actually enjoy, coming home to an empty apartment, and all of a sudden, gifts started randomly appearing, slowly leaning closer and closer to things that suited your tastes along with cryptic, often disturbing letters.

I like the shirt you were wearing today.

I think this would smell great on you, so you should wear it. I’ll think of you every time I smell it.

Who was the person you were talking to near the bus station? You should be careful. You don’t know what their intentions are.

I don’t like it when you act so friendly with your co-workers.

Why are you throwing away the gifts I got you? Do you not like them?

When are you going to accept the things I give you?

From, V.

Love, V.

Only Yours, V.

An anonymous figure that terrorized you. Ambiguous, disembodied, and unknown.

Until now.

“Who are you?” you asked, wanting to end this charade. Honestly, wanting to know. You could tell he smiled again, and you felt stupid for asking, knowing he wouldn’t wear a mask if he was unconcerned about you finding out about his identity, but you couldn’t help but feel that it’d make you feel better if you knew. If it was someone you knew, you could think of why they’d decided to start harassing you. Put an answer to if it was something you might’ve said or done to gain their attention unknowingly. It was something you agonized over for months.

Was it an old friend? A co-worker? A disgruntled customer? You couldn’t imagine what you did to catch their attention, especially if this guy was some random stranger on the street.

You felt choked up, feeling ridiculous for getting so emotional, but you had never been this close to learning the truth behind what had caused the unsettling anxiety you carried every day.

“Hey,” his voice said, full of concern, as he moved to hold you. You were tense, wondering if he could tell and struggling between whether you wanted to relax or continue hoping he would let go. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He rubbed your back, and you hated to admit that despite how uncomfortable this situation was, his attempts to soothe you were working.

“I can’t tell you right now, but I’ll be able to soon.”

What did that mean?

“Don’t worry. I’ll leave when you fall asleep.”

You don’t know why he sounded so confident that you would be able to fall asleep, fully aware of his presence in your apartment, but you didn’t say anything.

Closing your eyes, you felt some relief that, all things considered, your stalker seemed pretty kind.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #ask #gn reader #yan!valentino #yandere stalker

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indigogvf · 5 months

Text

How can you not see it?

Authors note: this is my first time writing smut!! Any feedback/thoughts are much appreciated but please be nice :)

Warnings: 18+, minors dni. Angst (i cant help myself🤭), fluff, drinking, swearing. Let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: After being fuck buddies with Josh for a few months, he begins to act out when he sees a man buy you a drink. Is this little arrangement between you over, or does it turn into something more?

You walked up to the bar, standing there for no longer than two seconds before an unfamiliar arm snaked around your waist. “This one’s on me. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be paying for their own drinks, hm?”

‘Okay, gross…’ you thought, turning to look at him. He had dark brown hair that was gelled to the side, brown eyes with slight stubble on his face. I mean, he wasn’t ugly, but that pick-up line was plain nasty.

“I’m okay, thanks though.” You presented a closed lipped smile in hopes that your bluntness would deter him.

You were wrong.

“C’mon, just one drink. I’ll leave you alone after that, I promise.” He asked, looking at you hopefully.

‘Maybe he isn’t so bad, I mean that’s a pretty reasonable offer.’ Looking over the man’s shoulder, you caught Josh’s eyes burning into you.

“Okay, just one drink, but you have to leave me alone after that.” Accepting his compromise, you took a seat at the bar whilst he ordered you a drink. You caught Josh’s eyes again, noticing that he appeared to be angry. You and Josh have been sleeping together for a few months now, but so far, it has been nothing serious.

It happened at the end of the last tour, when he was pent up after a show and had absolutely no shame in asking for your help in the midst of his desperation. There was no denying that Josh is attractive, and you’d always had a small thing for him, so you happily obliged. But then, it carried on, which isn’t necessarily a problem, but he’s a very confusing person. You know that he’s only using you for a quick fuck, but considering your friendship, you assumed he’d have a tad more respect. You are painfully aware that sex is all it is to him, but you can’t help feeling hurt at times, especially when he has no shame in chatting up random girls when you go out somewhere. You’ve had plenty of opportunities to do the same, but stopped yourself out of respect for Josh.

However, it had been a week since you and Josh last had sex, and the guy currently chatting you up seemed nice enough. You didn’t have any intention of sleeping with him, but it was nice to share a drink with someone, even if it was not the person you wanted to be with.

You finished your drink and said your goodbyes to the guy at the bar, who you never actually caught the name of. Or maybe you did… you can’t remember, and truthfully, you don’t really care. You headed back to the group, which only consisted of you, Josh, Jake, Danny, and Sam. “Who was that?” Jake asked, sharing an intrigued look with the rest of them.

“Just some guy, he said he’d buy me a drink and then leave me alone. Seemed like a fair deal and he was nice enough.” You looked around, and it seemed like your answer was satisfactory. Until you landed on Josh, who was still wearing the same grumpy look. You frowned at him, wondering what his problem was. He caught your gaze and rolled his eyes.

‘What is his problem?’ You thought, frustrated with the lack of communication.

“Where are we going after this?” You asked, trying to avoid Josh’s stare.

“You’re not going home with that guy?” Josh asked, hints of sarcasm seeping through his already harsh tone. You were dumbfounded, Josh never acts this way.

“Excuse me?” You asked, pure confusion evident in your tone.

“I don’t know. You seemed pretty content with him.” You looked around trying to gauge everyone else’s reaction, which was seemingly the same as yours.

“I already told you, he bought me one drink and promised to leave me alone. If he hadn’t made the promise of leaving me alone I would have been opposed to the idea, but he did. It was a harmless drink.” You spoke calmly despite the anger that was flowing through your veins.

‘This is unbelievable! Since when is this a problem for him? He has no issues chatting up girls, but when I have a harmless drink with someone he acts like I’ve committed adultery in a marriage that doesn’t even exist.’ You were fuming, but doing a good job of hiding it.

“Could’ve fooled me” he responded, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“Josh, chill out. Let’s just go back to mine because it's the closest.” Danny pipes up. You weren’t even sure you wanted to stay out after the way Josh has been acting. It was awkward now, no one was really sure of what to say because no one knew what was wrong.

“I think I might just head home for the night. This has been really nice though, we need to make more of an effort to do this more often.” You hoped that they wouldn’t question it. Josh had entirely sucked the fun out of the night and your mood to socialise had gone down the drain. They all protested, asking you to stay just a couple more hours. Josh stayed silent, confirming that he was still in his pathetic little mood. That gave you even more reason to leave, so you did. You all said goodbye and they subtly told you to just ignore Josh and that he’d get over whatever was bothering him.

As soon as you got home you stripped from your restricting skirt and top and got in the shower. The warmth felt so good, releasing all the built up tension from Josh’s digs at you. It started to dawn on you that maybe the whole arrangement you had with Josh was a bad idea. Realistically, it’s never a good idea to sleep with your friends without the intention of more. But, it was going fine, it hadn’t affected your friendship at all until now. You wonder what had changed.

You reluctantly got out the shower and put on your comfiest pyjamas. Then, you ordered some takeout, which is a necessity after a night of drinking. It was still quite early and you weren’t going to go to sleep for a few more hours, so you poured yourself a nice, full glass of wine. You heard a knock at the door before you could enjoy.

‘That was quick…’ you opened the door and was met with Josh’s familiar face. ‘Fucking brilliant.’

“What do you want now? To ruin the rest of my night, too?” You asked. He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“No, I was going to apologise but it seems you’re still clinging on to whatever it was I did.” You audibly laughed in his face.

‘Unbelievable. Is he serious? This is so obviously because the rest of them forced him to come and apologise.’ You theorized.

“Seriously, Josh? You were rude. You have no problems chatting up women at bars and I never bat an eyelid. Was it shitty to watch? Sure! But I have no reason to stop you because we are not together. We fuck Josh, that’s the extent of it. We’re friends who fuck. Why is it a problem when I have a drink with someone? I was never going to agree in the first place out of respect for you. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to go home with someone, but I haven’t, because despite the fact that we aren't together, we’re friends. But it’s only fair if I get to talk to other guys. I don’t know what your problem is, but our little arrangement is done. It’s clearly affecting our friendship and you seem to be able to get a good fuck whenever you want, so you obviously don’t need me for that. Now, if you’re not going to sincerely apologise for your pathetic behaviour, I’d like you to leave before my food gets here.” He stared at you, mouth agape in shock. All of the emotions you just poured out started to sink in, and it’s became overwhelming. You hold back the tears and wait for him to respond.

‘Why is this getting to me so mu-‘

“I love you! Jesus, how can you not see it? I’m head over heels for you. Have you never noticed how I always take care of you after we have sex? I stay with you every single time. Have you never noticed the way I look at you every opportunity I get? Have you never thought about why I always get you the most meaningful gifts compared to everyone else? Or why I always sit next to you when we go out? I’m in love with you. I never meant for us sleeping together to become a regular thing, but having you as something more than a friend was better than just being seen as a friend by you, even if it was just as a fuck buddy. The way I acted tonight was wrong and unfair, and you’re right. You should be able to talk to whoever you want because that’s exactly what I do. I’m sorry.”

You were shocked to say the least, but it made sense. Everything made sense. You love him. That’s why it always bothered you to see him talking to other girls. As you stared at him completely baffled, your food arrived, which was honestly perfect timing. It brought you back to reality. You invited Josh into your home and sat down with him, “please say something, you’ve been silent for way too long”

“I’m sorry. I just- it all makes sense now.” You thought about the best way to go about this. You weren’t exactly planning on admitting your feelings for Josh tonight, specifically because you are admitting to feelings that you didn’t even realise you had until five minutes ago. ‘Fuck it.’ “I love you too. I didnt even realise, but it makes sense. It hurt to see you talk to other girls, knowing you could pull any of them whenever you wanted. I just didn’t put the pieces together.” You stared up at him, and you couldn’t stop yourself.

You grabbed his collar and pulled him into you, kissing him with so much force that it made your head spin. He gladly reciprocated. Your mouths moved in sync as his tongue swiped your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you granted. He pushed you further into the couch, and you wrapped your legs around his waist bringing him in closer. This felt so different; it wasn’t just need and desperation; the atmosphere was filled with love and passion. He groaned into your mouth as you started grinding your hips on him, looking for some type of friction to ease the aching sensation. You could feel how hard he was.

He pulled away to remove your top and groaned when he realised you weren’t wearing a bra. “Fuck. You’re so pretty, mama.” You smiled at him as you moved your hands to his waist and attempted to unbutton his pants when he stopped you, “No. Let me make you feel good, first.” He removed your pants, leaving you completely naked below him. He ran his fingers through your folds collecting the wetness. “All of this for me?” You moaned at the feeling of his fingers on you, bucking your hips to try and get some friction on your aching clit.

“Only for you, Josh” he pushed a finger inside of you, eliciting a moan that was louder than intended. He was moving at an antagonizing pace. “Please, Josh.” You whined. You needed more, you were so desperate for something.

“Please what, baby?”

“I need more. Please.” He pushed another finger into you, increasing his speed. “Fuck! That feels so good.” You moaned. You could feel the warmth blossoming in your belly, getting closer and closer to your release. He knew it, he knew your body so well. He could feel you squeezing his fingers, and just as you were about to come, he removed them. “No! No, no. Please Josh. I was so close”

“Soon, mama. Let me take care of you.” he leaned in, kissing you much softer than before. You whined into his mouth, bucking your hips in an attempt to relieve your desperation. He was just as desperate as you, if not more. You could feel the heat radiating from his cock.

“I need you Josh. I need your cock, please.” You begged. He pulled down his pants along with his boxers and released his achingly hard cock. His head was red and dripping with pre cum, begging to be touched. You reached your hand down and stroked him delicately. “Fuck. Your hands feel so good, baby, but I need to be inside of you.” He lined his cock up with your entrance and bottomed out. You both groaned in sync. He was stretching you out so good.

“Please move Josh.” You begged, and he obliged. He moved slowly, picking up his pace. This was different, he was going slow but so deep compared to usual, where he would mercilessly fuck you. You used your legs that were wrapped around his waist to bring him in closer, digging your nails into his back. He moaned into your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. Your orgasm was approaching quickly after having it taken away a mere five minutes ago. It was so rushed but you couldn’t care less, you just needed him.

“Faster Josh, I’m so close. Fuck!” He did as he was asked, thrusting into you faster. He grabbed your leg and chucked it over his shoulder, somehow achieving an even deeper angle than before. “Jesus Christ, Josh. You feel so good.” Your head rolled back into the cushions behind you as you quickly approached your long awaited orgasm.

“You gonna come for me? Give it to me, mama. I need to feel you come around my cock.” Josh’s words of encouragement threw you over the edge and caused you to come, hard. You don’t even know if you were actually saying anything or if you were just making noises, but you didn’t care. He fucked you through it, picking up his pace as he chased his own orgasm. “I’m close, baby. Can you give me one more?” You nearly cried when he said that. You were beyond fucked out, the alcohol from earlier starting to tire you out.

“I can’t, Josh.” You whined. His hips were faltering now, giving him away. His eyes were screwed shut and his mouth was hanging open. “You can, I know you can. C’mon, mama. Just one more for me. You feel so good. Be good for me, please” his voice was strained, which encouraged you even more. You could feel yourself getting closer. He reached his hand down to your clit and within seconds you were coming again. You saw stars, your legs clamped around his waist even harder as you came. You were shouting his name like a mantra as he thrusted into you at a merciless pace, chasing his own release. You felt him twitch inside of you.

“Fuck! I’m gonna come” he groaned as he stilled inside of you, releasing his hot spurts of cum. His head dropped to the crook of your neck as he worked himself through his orgasm. You both stilled as you caught your breath and he rolled off of you.

He wrapped his arms around you and brought you closer, kissing your forehead gently. “I’m sorry for earlier. I love you.” You smiled up at him and ran your fingers through his hair.

“It’s okay. I love you too, Josh.” You cuddled into him.

‘This feels so right.’ He leaned down and pressed a delicate kiss to your lips whilst he caressed your face. He pulled away and his eyes were filled with nothing but love.

“How does a shower sound?” He suggested, a cheeky glint in his eyes. You grinned up at him and peeled yourself away from his embrace. “I’ll race you.” You giggled, quickly getting up and giving yourself a head start.

“Oh, you’re on!” He chased after you, laughing to himself.

‘This feels so right.’ He thought, too.

258 notes · View notes

moonchildstyles · 10 months

Text

sage

rosemary part three: harry knew the past would catch up one day. he just hoped it wouldn't be today

wordcount: 11.5k+

—————

Harry forgot his books at home.

He and (Y/N) were set to go to the library today, and he forgot his books under his bed. And, he didn't even realize until he was already parked and waiting for her outside the bakery. Because of course that would happen; of course it took seeing her smiling face coming out of the building and heading towards his car to remember each edition he still had stashed under his bed. He knew he was forgetting something when he left, but he hadn't wanted to be late or wait any longer to see her.

(Y/N) waved at him through the window as she approached, her Flour Pot t-shirt big on her form with the ends of her favorite peach bow fluttering behind her. She rounded the front of his car until she reached the passenger side, Harry already having unlocked the handle to allow her to slip inside.

"Hi, Harry," she chirped, brightening the melancholic space.

"Hi," he greeted her, his disposition decidedly less sunny than hers.

His tone had her brows pinching together in the middle, a frown turning her lips. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Bringing his knuckle up to brush the tip of his nose, he sighed. "I forgot m'books at m'apartment. I didn't even realize until I saw you, 'm so sorry."

"Oh, okay. That's okay," she told him earnestly, brows still cinched, "Why are you upset?"

His own brow furrowed at her question. Why wasn't she upset?

"I feel bad. I ruined our plans."

Canting her head, (Y/N)'s features relaxed even as she kept that frown on her lips. "You didn't ruin anything," she told him, her words a croon in the cab of his car, "We can just go back to your place and grab them, I don't mind. I don't have anywhere else to be, so."

She was being too nice to him. He made these plans and now he was the reason that they would have to wait another half an hour at least before they could actually execute them. He could only shake his head, his protest to her words feeling sticky in his throat.

In a tentative move, (Y/N) reached out, brushing her fingers against his forearm. The skin was bare of tattoos but littered with scars. If not for the warmth of her touch, goosebumps would have erupted on his skin. "I promise everything is okay. Don't be so hard on yourself." He could hear the soft smile on her face in the lilt of her voice. "Do you want to grab your books from your apartment?"

"You're sure?" he croaked, looking at her through the fan of his lashes.

"Of course!" she beamed, "We can head over there super quick then get to the library."

It took an effort to ease the self-made pressure he was feeling off of his shoulders. Years ago he never would have reacted like that; a confidence used to follow him that allowed him to stay guarded and strong, even if only as a facade. (Y/N) was poking holes in that defense more than he even realized.

"Okay," he settled on, "Thank you, (Y/N)."

Once Harry pulled away from the curb and (Y/N) started happily chatting about her day at the bakery, a new thought struck him. He'd never had to bring anyone to his crash pad before. No one had ever seen the kinds of places he made into his temporary homes. Of course the first would be (Y/N).

There wasn't anything inherently bad with it, he knew that. It was within his budget (and allowed a certain lack of paperwork and under the table cash payments), and he had things there that were easy to be packed up or let go of. It was a place that worked for him, even if it wasn't perfect for anyone else. He'd never had the opportunity before to be ashamed or embarrassed of his temporary homes before, but he figured that was the feeling that was brewing in his stomach.

Maybe he could convince her to sit in his car while he popped inside.

It was moments like this, with his mind rushing, that he was more than grateful for the fact that she was of the talkative type. It was a welcome distraction. She didn't make him feel like he needed to do anything more than listen to her. It was an easy job she gave him.

Outside the windows, the town shifted by. The gingerbread neighbourhoods were replaced with buildings that looked like they could have fit in in their prime but were now left to the wayside. The old town square was vacant, crumbling sidewalks and signs about trespassing and no solicitation. It was hard to reconcile the fact that this place was even a part of the same town that had a bakery called The Flour Pot and a quaint library.

That churning in his stomach returned then. Someone like (Y/N) with her gingerbread house and ribboned hair shouldn't be out here. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as the turn to his complex came up.

With a signaled turn, Harry's apartment building came into view. Only two stories with rusted stairs and wobbling hand railing along the outside hallway. The paint was a dirty eggshell, dingy and crumbling in places. Harry's was the one with the broken number plate and burnt out lightbulb above his door.

Parking as close as he could to the stairway, Harry unbuckled his seatbelt with his eyes on his hands. "Y'can stay in here, yeah? I'll be back in a second, but I'll leave m'phone for you to play music or whatever y'want."

It wasn't until he had his hand on the latch that she spoke up: "I can't come with you?"

Turning to look at her, he raised his hand to the back of his neck, nails scratching at the skin in a nervous habit. "I shouldn't take very long, so I figured..."

"Oh, okay," (Y/N) sounded, flicking her gaze out to the apartment building in front of her, "I can stay out here."

Following her gaze, he tried to see what she might. This place wasn't very different from the other buildings he'd lived in before. Honestly, it was on the nicer side, especially with the lack of nosy neighbors. But, to (Y/N), he might see the side of the city she had been warned about. The kind of place a woman like her would need to be extra careful in, for no other reason than the fact she was a woman. A pretty one, too. And he would be leaving her alone.

Those instincts he tried to bury flared to life. "Nevermind," he gruffly said, "Y'can come with me."

She looked to him with wide eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, c'mon," he said just as he pulled the latch on his door.

He waited at the bonnet of his car for her to follow him. No one was out, anyway, but he wasn't going to chance anything now that those worst case scenarios were beginning to reenter his mind. (He hadn't completely abandoned that Dracula theory, it would appear, as his neighbours suddenly had piercing fangs embedded in their gums, awaiting a moment he would look away so they could snatch her up).

They were quiet as they scaled the rusted steps, some of the planks groaning under their feet. Harry only spoke when he warned her to watch her step, his hand instinctively reaching to settle on the small of her back until he stopped himself short. He kept her a step in front of him, his shoulders squared and features hardened as if he could scare off a threat before it even arrived.

Harry stopped her in front of his door, a small touch to her arm getting her to halt her steps by the unnumbered door. He took in a deep breath as he pulled out the key, feeling her eyes on him as he fiddled with the sticky lock.

"'S not anything special," he preambled, feeling restless, "But, I promise I'll grab everything fast, and we can go."

(Y/N) didn't have a chance to respond before Harry had peeled the door open, stepping aside to allow her in first. With her back to him, he couldn't help but the wince that tightened his muscles as she stepped over the stained carpet and creaking floorboards underneath. He rushed in behind her, wanting to get this experience over as fast as he could.

It took a hard shove against the wood for the door to replace itself against the jamb, the lock sliding in with a twist of the deadbolt. Flicking on the lights, the rest of his studio apartment was revealed as (Y/N) lingered close behind him.

"Sorry," he murmured as he maneuvered around her, "They're jus' under m'bed."

"You don't have to apologize, Harry. You're not doing anything wrong." She spoke to him as he dropped to his knees to dig underneath his bed, this week's editions sitting father back than he remembered putting them.

He didn't bother to answer as he pulled one of the books out. Now he only needed the other two.

Behind him, he could hear the floorboards under the carpet creaking as she walked through the space. While there wasn't much for her to see in the first place, the sound made him quicken his search.

Just as his fingers brushed the third and final book he was scrambling for, (Y/N) piped up: "Is this your mom and sister?"

His fingers tensed over the cover of the book, the plastic crackling. He almost forgot about that photo; it was hard for him to look at half the time, anyway. Looking over his shoulder, he found her standing in front of the tiny shelf he had been able to pick up for free at a garage sale when he first moved in. On top was nothing more than his favorite book and a photo of his mother and sister he was able to swipe in the rush to leave all those years ago. It was at his sister's university graduation, the two women with matching smiles and their arms thrown around each other. Harry hadn't been able to make it that day, but he was still so proud of Gemma. She'd come a long way.

He swallowed around his dry throat. "Yeah."

She looked at him with an adoring smile. "They're beautiful," she told him, sincerity painting her tone, "You look just like your mom."

Gathering all of his books, he stood to his full height. His chest felt heavy when he glanced at the photo. "Yeah. Everyone always said me and my sister could have been her siblings."

"All gorgeous, that's for sure," she beamed, looking back at the photo while Harry's eyes stuck to her profile.

It wasn't as if he thought her to be the kind of person to spit on him for where he lived, to run away vomiting once she was welcomed into the pocket of his world, but he can't say he expected this kind of gentle reaction. She didn't stand stiffly in the corner, careful not to touch a single thing or keep her eyes to herself. She moved comfortably, taking in the few parts of him that were on display.

This wasn't like her gingerbread house with a picket fence and a welcome mat, but that difference had no effect on her. It was as if she didn't even know that she was too good for him.

"Thank you," he murmured, allowing a daring glance to he photo of his family.

He wondered what they looked like now. Back then, Gemma was fond of coloring her hair in all different kinds of shades. His mother preferred to keep her hair long, even if every few months she debated cutting her tresses short. He wondered if she'd ever gone through with it in the years since he saw them. He hoped they still smiled like that.

"Got your books?" (Y/N) asked, pulling Harry from that corner of his brain he rarely dared to touch.

"Um, yeah," he said, blinking the film from his eyes, "Sorry. We can go."

(Y/N) followed after him as he stepped back towards his door. "What did you think of this week's batch?"

His heart lightened at the change of subject. There was that grace she gave him—the kind he wasn't even sure she knew she was giving to him. She had no reason to be so good to him.

As he escorted her back down to his car, he gave her mumbled explanations of his latest reads. (Y/N) looked at him with those wide eyes, listening to him just as intently as someone as kind as her would do without thinking.

In that same dark corner of his mind, Harry wondered if she would still act the same if she knew what he'd done.

—————

"Harryyy."

Looking up at the sound of his name, Harry found the owner of that lilting voice coming to him with an artfully plated croissant. This one was tall with its layers arching up high, and a glossy, golden brown shell gleaming in the sunlight. Tiny purple flowers and micro greens were placed around the negative space surrounding the pastry. (Y/N) walked carefully with the plate cradled on her forearms, a bright smile on her face.

She wanted something, that much he knew from the way she sang his name.

The bakery was rather quiet now that the Sunday brunch rush had ended, only a short line two deep was heading to the register with the case properly stocked for the time being. The vacancy allowed Harry to huddle up in the back table that was now beginning to be branded as his with the way he stuck to the spot every chance he could when visiting (Y/N).

"Yes?" he answered her call, bookmarking his page and setting his book off to the side.

She stopped by his table, her croissant plate close to her chest as she looked at him with a pleading grin. "Could you possibly do me a favor?"

Her hair was a mess, pulled back as best she could manage with a crooked bow, flour and sugar almost coating her top with the fragrance of jammed fruits sticking to her. She had a busy morning, he knew that.

"Maybe," he said as if he had any other choice but to help her.

Letting out a sigh, he carefully set the plate on his table, pushing it towards him slowly to ensure not a single petal fell out of place. She pulled out her phone then, her eyes pleading when she flicked them up to match his, "Would you mind possibly modeling for a picture I was wanting to post on the bakery Instagram?"

That had Harry recoiling some, falling silent at her request. Social media was a huge no-go for the life he was leading. Posting anything or having any kind of presence online would be the fastest way to find himself caught. Even before leaving, he refrained from creating any profiles for himself. There was too much pressure in his life already , he didn't want to worry about an electronic one too. Now, though, the lack of records was a survival tactic.

(Y/N) picked up on his hesitancy right away, waving her hands out in surrender as she tried to explain. "It would just be your hands, not your face or anything! I just want it to be like an artsy, Pinterest kind of shot," she rambled out, her brows raised in earnest, "I thought you'd be good for the picture since your hands are..." She trailed off then, her gaze dropping to where his hands were folded on the table in front of them, his fading cross tattoo on display along with the scars on his knuckles and the rough skin on his fingers. Blinking, she took her gaze from his hands and back to his face, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. "They'd just look really nice in the picture, I think."

That kind of praise settled in his chest as something warm. He hadn't thought about his hands being something "nice" ever really, especially not now with the hairline scars and the rough texture on his palms. A handful of years ago, he used to paint his nails even, but he'd stopped doing that a long time ago. It drew too much attention, took too much time he didn't have, and was something that made him feel a lot nicer than he knew he deserved. But, if she thought his hands were nice, was he really going to argue with her over the finer details?

"Not m'face or anything?" he asked, flicking his gaze up from his hands to see her still looking at him with her pleading eyes.

"No, no, not your face! Just your hands. I'm also putting together a few different slides, so I could put yours in the middle or something, if you wanted. I'm trying to make a post about 'customer plates' and all, so I just need some help."

While he didn't really understand what she was talking about given the fact he hadn't used the app since he was a teenager, all Harry knew was that she needed him. It was something small, somewhat insignificant in her life, but she chose him to ask. He hadn't been—or felt—needed in years, especially not for something so innocent.��

"Please, Harry?" she tried one more time, her smile brightening with a pleading flutter of her lashes.

His relenting didn't take a second thought before he was nodding his head. "Jus' tell me how to pose."

Bounding in her spot, the flutter of her hair bow being seen from behind her, (Y/N)'s grin widened. "Thank you so much! This is the last picture I need before I can post it and never think about it again," she cheered, tapping away at her phone once more. With the right app up, she angled the camera towards the plate, "Act natural, like keep your hands relaxed but still try to hold the plate, you know?

(Y/N) went on to give him directions on how to pose his fingers, snapping photos as she went. Every minor adjustment had another shot being taken, different angles used and small directions for Harry to follow to ensure she got the right look. Feeling her eyes on him made Harry hyper aware of the way he posed and moved, her eyes trailing the length of his fingers and the stretch of his palm as he adjusted himself to whatever whim she had.

It wasn't until she was reviewing a handful of her previous photos that he flexed out his hands, trying to make himself less stiff and more natural like she was looking for. (Y/N)'s tapping and swiping stopped then, the static of her gaze felt again on his skin. It took a glimpse in her direction to see her phone being ignored in favor of the live specimen in front of her. Flexing his fingers out, he saw the way she watched intently, eyes rounding.

A short twitch had the corner of his lips curling just for a moment at her reaction. Interesting.

Like that, she seemed to break out of whatever train of thought had entered her mind. She was back to flicking through her phone, a heavy hand pushing stray baby hairs out of her face. "Okay, I think I got one," she told him, looking up from her phone with a flutter of her lashes, "Do you want to see?"

Pulling his hands back into his lap, Harry shook his head. "Whatever y'want, 's fine with me."

Harry saw as she swallowed around her words, her smile a bit different this time when it bloomed across her features. "Thank you, again," she told him, voice decidedly more chipper than her demeanor, "You can have that, by the way. Payment for modeling for me."

His eyes stayed stuck on her even when she peeked down at the croissant. He liked seeing her a little flustered; it was different than the bubbly, excitable girl she usually showed him. It was a trip thinking about the fact he could draw that kind of reaction from her.

"Thank you," he told her.

She left with that shy smile on her face, Harry's eyes stuck on the bow in her hair as she went back to her kitchen.

—————

A white nail polished hand was wrapped around Harry's, the pad of a delicate thumb running along the scars on his knuckles. Under the bundle of hands was the grassy knoll he was sat on, wildflowers dotting the green with a pair of legs folded away just out of the corner of his vision. A pastel toned ribbon fluttered into his line of sight. A soft focus filter seemed to be placed on the moment, everything airbrushed as if painted with a cloud and soft like velvet.

Just barely, he could hear a voice. She was speaking to him, Harry knew that, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. The words were too muddled, floating away with the clouds before they could reach his ears. He strained his ears as if that would help him catch what she was saying. Tugging on her hand in his, Harry tried to get closer to her.

He just wanted to know what she was saying.

The second he did just that, more of her body coming into view with her voice muddling through whatever film he was hearing through, everything stopped.

Swimming to the surface of his consciousness, Harry found the grassy knoll under him was now replaced with the thin sheets of his bed. His hand was wrapped in the fabric of his comforter, his fingers tight around the folds as if it were the hand he had been dreaming of.

Harry didn't bother to open his eyes, allowing himself to stay steeped in that inbetween land where he felt the remnants of his dream. He knew that if he unwrapped his hand from the bedding, his fingers would ache from how tightly he was clutching the fabric. It had been (Y/N)'s hand he was dreaming of, he knew that.

And, god, he missed her.

She was all he could think about. How badly he had wanted to be closer to her in his dream, how badly he wished it was her hand he was holding and not his threadbare comforter, how badly he wanted to open his eyes and still see her there in front of him with that ribbon in her hair.

That wasn't ever part of the plan—this infatuation he was beginning to feel for her.

Dreams of her weren't supposed to be the only pleasant dreams he was having of late. Those sleeps with her on his mind shouldn't leave him rested and calm when he woke. It'd been almost a year since he started craving sleep for anything other than to rest his exhausted body. Now, he had those secret hopes that when he let his brain run wild for the night, that he would meet her in that in-between.

This wasn't ever something that was supposed to happen. (Y/N) wasn't supposed to happen.

Even though he knew that, Harry didn't break himself from his sheets. He kept bobbing in between sleep and the rest of the world, right where (Y/N) was with him.

He'd stop thinking about her when he woke up properly, he decided. He'd deal with that problem later.

—————

"You know, you don't have to keep walking me home."

Despite the first hints of the rising sun, the stars were still glimmering in the sky like scattered bits of glitter. The moon had been a waning crescent through the night, but with the help of the oncoming sunshine, was slowly becoming full. These mornings had to be Harry's favorite times. Especially when he spent them with (Y/N).

Between all the jaunts to the library, hours spent lounging at the bakery, and time spent sending texts back and forth over the last month, Harry spent most of his time with her now. He looked forward to these prep shifts she suddenly seemed to be getting scheduled for more often than not. These quiet walks with only the crackling sidewalk and the sound of their footsteps and the sleeping town allowed him to settle into his skin and the space he took up beside her.

She was the only person he wanted to be close to like this anyway.

With that in mind, Harry only shrugged at (Y/N)'s words. "I don't mind."

He didn't have to look at her to know that response made her smile. It was that smile, soft lipped and quiet as if only for him, that starred in his dream more than once over the last handful of weeks. It was that smile that tested his self-control—or lack thereof, as he was learning.

It was a completely self-indulgent move to think about her before he slept. In a twisted turn of events, she was one of the only thoughts that had him calming after a bloody nightmare. He slept better when he had a dream of her, or even a calm, dreamless sleep could be achieved with the thought of her leading him. She was the first and only he'd found that was able to lull him into something that felt... normal.

Harry knew down in his core that it wasn't fair for someone like him to attach to someone like (Y/N), but this was where found he didn't quite have as much self control as he thought. It was easy for him to forget what her reaction would be if she found out what kind of person was walking her home after her overnight shifts or browsing the shelves with her at the library.

Especially in these moments, he could feel normal enough that he even forgot who he was. The way this place—this spot at (Y/N)'s side—had him imagining what it would be like to stay in this town was something he'd never experienced before. He'd never not been thinking about his next move.

With her gingerbread neighbourhood in sight, Harry felt that come down approaching. He would cling to this feeling—the clean, clear, and ordinary feeling—all the way back to his car and through the drive back to his apartment. It was when he was truly alone with the few things he was able to travel with surrounding him, that he would give himself a reality check. Until then, he'd keep indulging.

Stopping in front of the picket fence before her home, Harry turned to (Y/N) the same way he did every time he walked her home after prep. The exhaustion that had settled in his bones after a full shift at the store lessened when he saw her looking at him with eyes that rivaled the stars in the sky.

"Text me if y'need anything, alright?" he told her, the same thing he always said before they shared goodbyes for the night.

(Y/N) lingered as she always did. She hadn't gotten confident enough when asking for hugs, just yet. Harry liked that she still got a bit shy.

Instead of the same question he expected to hear, he saw a pinch of concern appear between her brows. "Do you want to come inside?" she asked, swallowing as she gestured to her house, "You look really tired tonight, Harry."

Lifting his shoulders, Harry shrugged. There was that slowed down, frozen feeling again. Another invitation into her world.

"'S alright. 'M okay, (Y/N)," he told her, "I don't want to keep y'up."

She wasn't convinced as she pressed just a little more, the toe of her scuffed shoes scraping over the concrete sidewalk. "Are you sure? I usually make myself breakfast before I sleep, so you could come in for a little if you want?"

His hands grew clammy where they were stuffed in his pockets. "Y'don't have to do that. I-I don't want to take from you or anything."

It was a defense mechanism the way he began inching back, as if he could pull his presence away from her. As normal as he felt with her, in this moment, he felt as if he were fooling her. She shouldn't be inviting him into her home; he shouldn't be invited into her safe space.

(Y/N) stopped him with a gentle hand landing on his forearm, her fingers brushing the inked photos on his skin and the raised scars underneath. "You said you like to cook though, right?"

Harry's throat bobbed as he thickly swallowed. He nodded.

A shy smile perched itself on her features, curling upwards like the ways of the sun on the horizon. "If you want, you could help me cook, maybe? That way it's not like you're 'taking' anything from me, you're just helping me. We'd be even."

How was he supposed to argue with her? Hadn't he learned yet that she was the one that would get him to bend to her will, bash down his own walls, and give her everything he had in his power to give?

Harry could only nod then, hiding the twitch in his lips with a brush of his knuckle against the tip of his nose.

The hand she had laid on his arm squeezed, her smile growing giddy. "C'mon," she said, her hand trailing down his forearm until it was clasped in his.

His lungs stunted at the feel of her soft palm pressed against his own. She didn't twist their fingers together, filling the gaps between his, leaving their hands to cup together like a pair of mittens for the cold. At least this way she couldn't feel how he was beginning to shake.

He followed her like a planet in orbit of a bright star, allowing him to breach the guarding fence line designed to keep people like him out. She only let go of his hand to unlock her front door, but a moment later they were bundled together once more. Her thumb skimmed the side of his own when she pulled him inside.

Guiding him over the threshold of her home, (Y/N) invited Harry inside despite all the red flags; despite the scars laced over his skin and the near permanent frown on his lips.

Stepping into her tiny foyer—it wasn't much more than a small hallway separated from the rest of her home by an extra wall—(Y/N) slipped her hand out of his to double back and close her front door and twist the lock. She used the space to house a long, skinny end table against the wall, the perfect space to hang her bag from and stow her keys atop until next time. A mirror with blushed gold edging was hung from the wall above it, a sparkly pink kiss mark stamped on the bottom corner of the glass.

"You can leave your shoes here," she offered, already shucking off her own sneakers. Her socks were revealed to be a baby blue with embroidered sheep. Of course.

When his own Vans were placed underneath the end table beside (Y/N)'s own pink-laced white ones, she beckoned him to follow after her to the kitchen. He made a point to keep his eyes off of her hands, ensuring he wouldn't do something stupid like try to grab it again. Gaze flitting about the space, he took in the details of her home.

The first thing that caught his attention were the pale curtains that were draped over the front window. The dead giveaway of what kind of person called this unit their home. Her furniture was mismatched, the couch a suede sage green and chair upholstered in a crosshatched fabric dyed pink. The center rug of her living room was a large white daisy, stray strings torn out here and there. Her coffee table had stacks of laundry she still needed to deposit into the correct rooms, a pair of fuzzy socks sat by themselves on the couch. All along her walls in the living room and the halls they passed through had canvas art prints, minimalist shelves stacked with books, candles, and odd items he knew had to have a story behind. Pinned to the drywall, between photos and shelves, were dried flowers. The petals were dull and curled back, frozen in time with the stems tied together with the help of ribbons.

Tiny bits of her personality were stamped on each item. Romance books stood out to him on the shelves. A polaroid camera that had seen better days, though the damage was now covered in stickers. Coiled ribbons that were frayed at the ends. A diffuser that still smelled of a rose garden. In her kitchen, a wipe-off calendar was pinned up, all events color coded and scrawled carefully on the appropriate date. Here and there, butterflies and flowers were drawn in marker on the white board.

(Y/N)'s home was kind. Easy and gentle; finding a version of perfect that was attainable and loving.

Stepping around the peninsula counter of her kitchen, (Y/N) looked at him with raised brows and soft features. "I was kind of in the mood for an omelette and hash browns and all of that. What do you think?"

Harry swallowed, standing on socked feet in the middle of her tiled floor. He was overwhelmed in an odd way.

He was in a home—her home. The last time he'd been in a place that was loved and lived in, had to be back when he was living with his family. And, (Y/N) wanted him here; she was asking what he wanted for breakfast, even. His hands were clammy at the thought even with his frozen veins.

He nodded. "Sounds good."

"Perfect!" she chirped, sounding very excitable for someone who had just worked an overnight shift and wasn't used to the turnaround.

Lingering in his spot, Harry watched as she padded around her kitchen, pulling ingredients from her fridge and tools from cabinets. It wasn't until she was reaching towards the carton of eggs that she slowed in her movements. Looking over her shoulder, she laid her hands on the edge of the counter.

"You know, I think I remember this having been a deal where you're supposed to be helping me," (Y/N) teased, her voice lilting as she canted her head.

While he knew she wasn't being serious, Harry still sprung into action as soon as she finished speaking. "Right, right, sorry," he told her, mumbling with his head down.

"I was just teasing. It's okay," she bubbled, bumping his shoulder with a bright smile on her face. With Harry now sharing the tiled space with her, she lent with her back pressed to the lip of the counter, "I usually like to put basil and tomato and cheese into my omelette, but I can see if I have other stuff if you wanted something else?"

"No, no" Harry shook his head, "That's perfect. Thank you."

"Okay," she sounded, her voice soft like the rays of sunlight beginning to drip through the window. "I can get the eggs ready and start on the hash browns if you want to cut the tomatoes and basil?"

As soon as he agreed, (Y/N) had him stationed in front of her cutting board—a wooden slab sanded down to recreate the shape of a monstera leaf. A pair of tomatoes were placed on the edge of the board, still taut and a vivid red. He thought he remembered her plucking them just the other night from the small produce section at the store. A few leaves of basil were bundled beside it, velveteen and vibrant. Off to the side with its guard concealing the blade was a pastel peach knife. The hardware was a gleaming rose gold—because, of course, it was.

Just like everything else in her kitchen, there were bits of her personality littered about alongside the things she most likely saw on the internet and wanted to give a try. Glass and ceramic canisters were dotting the back of the counter, lined against the wall with small labels, though some of the glass ones were clearly filled with the incorrect item. Pictures were pinned to her fridge, some with friends, others with what he could only assume was her family, and coupons to places in town littered between. Everything had color, a personality—evidence that someone who cared and truly called this place home.

Seeing it all made Harry feel that much more embarrassed knowing that she had seen his own home, even if she hadn't acted any kind of way when inspecting his place.

Working around each other, Harry was well-aware of (Y/N)'s presence as she moved around the kitchen. She had pans occupying the stove, drizzled with oil or a pad of butter. As he chopped the tomato and ribboned out the leaves of basil, the space became fragrant. The sound of the knife slicing the vegetable and thunking against the board meshed with the brittle snaps of the egg shells being cracked.

There was no pressure to fill the silence. He knew (Y/N) wouldn't make him talk either; she knew him enough now.

Harry felt settled.

Once the ingredients were prepped, he took over watching the eggs and creating the folds. WIth his new spot, he was able to catch every time (Y/N) plucked shreds of cheese from the bag as if they weren't going into her omelette anyway. He'd remember to put extra in for her.

Every time she needed around him, or reached to check on one of the heat dials, a small chirp of an excuse me and a bubbly smile had his heart thumping in his chest. An odd reaction to something so small, he thought.

A warmth filled the space with the sound of the bubbling oils popping and the burners growing hot under the pans. The sun had finally broken the horizon and was beaming real light into her kitchen, the tiny curtains above her sink pulled back to allow the rays in. The buttery light poured over everything in her kitchen, including (Y/N).

Everything was so easy, so picturesque, so dreamy. Harry had forgotten what it was like to be in a home, to cook for himself, to not be just getting through it.

He'd had dreams of (Y/N) before, moments like this accessible once he fell asleep, but they had nothing on the real thing.

"All done?" (Y/N) asked as he flipped over the second egg bundle, this one teeming with cheese and ribbons of basil swirled within the eggs.

"I think so," he said, lifting the pan from the heat as she grabbed a plate from her cabinet. Handing it out to him, Harry slid the omelette onto the ceramic—the same embossed pattern of flower petals on the edge that matched his own plate.

(Y/N) did her part of sliding the crispy hash brown patties onto their plates beside the completed omelettes. Nothing was perfect—there were tears in the folds of his omelette, the edges of the potatoes were just a little too browned from when she suddenly became distracted with the dishes, and tiny imperfections in the way they dressed their entrees were apparent, but Harry doesn't think he's ever seen a breakfast so flawless.

Harry could feel her eyes on him as he tried to correct the spillage that occurred on her omelette, using the edge of the spatula to hopefully fork the cubes of tomato that had escaped the fold. He swore her gaze left a physical touch over the bridge of her nose, the bow of his lips, the point of his chin.

"Harry?"

"Hm?" he hummed, pausing his fingers to match her warm gaze.

From where she stood, she was backlit from the sunshine spilling in through the gauzy curtains behind her. The sepia tones bathed her in gold with the creases in her top, lines of fatigue on her face, and the column of her throat turning into filigree. The flyaways of her hair were highlighted, messy baby hairs and all. The strands seemingly created the kind of crown he'd seen in ancient art to depict an angel. A goddess.

His breath caught in his throat. This was going to be the vision he conjured when he needed to evade his nightmares.

The goddess suddenly looked shy, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she hesitantly reached out towards him. For the second time, her skin grazed his with her fingertips touching at his forearm. They made soft dents in the layer of hair that covered his skin.

Harry's heart jumped into his throat at the touch.

Her eyes were on her hand, watching as she curled her fingers around his arm. Flicking her gaze up to match his, he saw that same golden touched goddess. She took in a deep breath, lips pillowed, lashes glittering, and baby hairs a golden cradle around her face. If not for the fact he could feel the scrape of her nails against his skin, he would have convinced himself this was a dream.

"(Y/N)?" he murmured, voice barely above a whisper in the middle of her small kitchen.

She blinked, letting out that deep breath before speaking.

"Can I kiss you?"

Though there was that smart part of his brain that knew he should think better of this entire moment, there wasn't even a second of hesitation before Harry dragged his socked feet over the tile and closed that distance between them.

He shuttered his eyes just a moment after her, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks while her own hand still clung to his forearm. He didn't think his hands could ever be so gentle with the way his hands molded to the curve of her cheeks and the soft give of his lips against hers. She lent into his hold, pressing her lips against his just that much harder. On the tip of his thumb, he could feel the brush of her bottom lashes on his skin.

Their lips slotted together as (Y/N) tilted her head, tucking her top lip between his two with a delicate kiss directly on his bottom one. She tasted of sugar and butter, whatever she had concocted at the bakery following her. Her hand on his arm tightened the longer they kissed in her kitchen, Harry's head completely empty.

While he knew he was going to feel guilty later for letting her kiss him when she didn't even know who he truly was and what kind of trouble could follow getting close to someone like him, but that was a problem for a version of him that existed hours later. This Harry was allowed to remember everything, commit every detail to memory, and indulge in the feeling of what something soft and gentle and kind felt like.

The soft sound of their lips parting and coming together against bounced off the tiles. Every kiss was lingering and soft, nothing urgent other than the need to show each other what had been brewing in the months since they'd met. Harry's eyes scrunched closed when he felt the dent of her fingertips into his arm—a grounding feeling as he threatened to float up to the clouds or wherever dreams were made.

It was (Y/N) that drew away first, a large breath being taken in as he pressed her free hand to the center of his chest. Underneath her palm, he was sure she could feel the pounding of his heart. Her smile bloomed across her face, swollen lips unfurling like petals. He felt breathless just looking at her.

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

(Y/N)'s smile widened, eyes becoming half-moons with the stretch of her cheeks. "Nothing. I just like saying your name."

Harry couldn't help but to dip down and press his lips against hers once more.

—————

Walking into the bakery, days after the kisses that still seemed to be imprinted on his lips, Harry thought it was funny remembering just how scared he was to walk into this building only a short few months ago.

His life had changed in plenty of ways since then, but they all had a common denominator: (Y/N).

Everything was different now. He had begun uncovering a life here he thought would never be for him. Even if there were still many ghosts haunting him, some strong enough to have made him run in the past, he felt a stronger pull to the positive these days. He could ever thank her enough for that.

Despite that, his hands still felt restless in his pockets. While there was still a level of anxiety that rattled his body, these tremors were the result of those dastardly butterflies that had made a home in Harry's stomach. It was all in reaction to the fact he knew he would be seeing (Y/N).

Outside of a handful of texts, this was the first time he'd be seeing and talking to her since that morning in her kitchen. He couldn't wait to refresh his memory of her—review the form of the goddess he had left.

The bell chimed above his head, signaling to the staff they had a new client in their sparsely populated building. Behind the counter was Sabrina and a perfectly familiar bow, the pair chatting away until the bow turned on her toes with a bright smile.

On instinct, (Y/N) greeted him with the customer service version of herself. She barely got out a single syllable before her smile turned blindingly genuine and she squeaked herself silent.

Looping around the counter, she rushed towards him with that smile on her face and bright eyes that matched the Sunday morning sunshine. "Harry!"

The pat of her shoes over the floor matched the tumbling of his heartbeat. As soon as she was close enough, she folded him into a hug with her arms around his middle. Her cheek pressed against the plane of his chest, heartbeat just under her ear.

"Hi," he murmured to her, burying his nose into her hair. The scent of rosemary from whatever tart she had been working on in the back filtered through his senses.

"I didn't know you were coming in today," she said, keeping her hug on him tight.

Harry grazed his hand over her back, palm pressing against her spine in a slow circuit. "Don't I always?"

That seemed to be the perfect answer as (Y/N) squeezed him that much harder, her hug a sturdy thing. He didn't even have to think before he was reciprocating, the tip of his nose brushing her scalp with every strand of hair tickling his skin.

Keeping her arms around him, (Y/N) pulled back just enough to look up at him. "I have new stuff for you to try!"

"Yeah? What is it?" Harry pressed, his voice quiet just for her as opposed to the bright chatter she was giving him.

(Y/N) dropped her arms from around him only to clasp her hand in his, guiding him to the table that may as well be reserved for just him. "It's a surprise," she said, giddy as ever. Once she had him settled in the tall chair, she had her hands bundled together in front of her. "I'll be right back!"

With that, she bounced back to the kitchen. Harry had his eyes on her and the tendrils of her bow, even when he felt the eyes of Sabrina looking at him with something smug and knowing on her face. He didn't care.

With his eyes following (Y/N) back to the kitchen, Harry didn't bother to hide the smile that crossed his features. Big and bright, he knew this was for her only, even if she couldn't see it.

—————

Harry's bones were exhausted as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment. The steps creaked under his weight, mimicking the scrap he swore he felt in his joints. Even with the fact he'd been cut early for the night, the lack of sleep the day before still clung to his muscles.

All he wanted to do was go home and drop dead in his sheets for as long as he could manage before he woke with a cold sweat.

Despite it all, he stopped in his tracks when he saw his door.

Harry didn't really get mail. It was one of those things that came with being a ghost.

So it was more than a little concerning seeing a manilla folder taped to his door, just where the gold apartment number should be.

His name was printed in big blocky letters across the paper. The strokes of the ink were harsh and glaring, a notice wrapped in the command for him to unfold the paper and check the contents.

With his heart rate spiking in his chest, Harry glanced around him, hoping to see a nosy neighbour peeking on. It wasn't like he was especially friendly with his neighbours (they weren't (Y/N), so he had no interest), but perhaps he had been a little too noisy with his nightmares and someone had had enough, pasting a passive aggressive note to his door telling him to keep it down.

It was a false hope, one Harry didn't believe even for a second, but the reality of the situation was still catching up with him. That was how he was able to snatch the paper from the door without shaky hands, slipping inside without a second glance around him.

He couldn't lock his door fast enough after slamming it shut, the jamb reverberating with a use of strength he hadn't intended to use. He stared for a few lingering seconds, watching as if the lock would flip itself open, all of the threats he'd been running from pouring in after him.

His apartment was silent just as it should be. It made him even more uneasy.

He wasn't supposed to be home now, but still no one was waiting for him. They'd found his apartment but didn't sit and wait for him—ambush him the way he knew they liked to operate. This was the long game they were playing. There were more games they wanted him to participate in before something drastic would happen.

Harry treated the manilla folder as if it were an explosive. Gentle hands gripped the edges with fingertips sliding under the lip to unhook the flap. He worked slowly.

Just inside was the edge of a white piece of paper—no it was thicker than paper, he found when he slipped his hand inside and tugged out a stack of the pages. The pieces were a blank, stark white, thick and heavy.

Flipping them over, that was where all the color was hiding.

Glossy photographs greeted him on the other side.

Glossy photographs of him.

Him at work. Him at his apartment. Him in his car. Every place within this town he had bothered to extend himself was in the background of these photos, while he was the muse in front of the lens. They'd seen him everywhere, for at least the last month.

His paging halted when a new muse made an appearance in the photos.

(Y/N).

Photos of them at the bakery together, the library, the grocery store. A shot had even captured them leaving his apartment the one time he'd brought her over. Thank god he'd taken her inside with him instead.

But that wasn't enough. There were a trio of photos of her all alone. They'd seen her in her home, seen her in her bedroom, seen her living her life without a thought in the world that someone may be documenting every moment from the shadows.

A story began to form the more pages he worked through. A starry sky was the backdrop behind the pair of them, (Y/N) looking up at him as he brushed the tip of his nose with his knuckle.

He'd been walking her home.

In the background of the next image was her gingerbread house. Her picket fence was behind Harry's form, her yellow birdhouse a pseudo-sun in the darkness. The camera followed their steps as she escorted him inside, their hands clasped just barely in view of the lens. With the door shut behind them, the angle shifted, their photographer having found a better vantage point to spot them in the kitchen.

Through new eyes, Harry saw the events he lived through unfold in front of him. He saw he and (Y/N) pattering through the kitchen, getting breakfast ready. He saw the way he was so nervous to be sharing the space with her until he eventually unfurled, his features visibly softening the longer he spent time with her. (Y/N) was there, with those flyaway hairs and gilded lines in her face, giving him space and an encouraging smile. He remembered exactly what it felt like to be standing over those tiles with her starry eyes placed on him.

Harry hesitated. He didn't want to see the next image. He knew how the story went, and he didn't want his recollection to be tainted by seeing it through the eyes of another. He didn't want the single joyous moment he'd had in years to be ruined.

But, this was the life he signed up for when he left that night. A life of goodbyes and nothing that could be truly his. He knew that.

With a steeled resolve, he flipped the page.

On the glossy paper was a photo of Harry and (Y/N)'s first kiss. He saw the crinkles by her eyes as she tried not to smile against his mouth. He saw the gentle way he cradled her cheeks. The smush of their lips together were slitted as if puzzle pieces had found their connecting slate. It was everything he remembered it to be. Buttery sunshine, gentle touches, and a moment no one could take from him.

Only this story was now shrouded in a darkness that came with the edging of leaves vignetting around the photo, the angle fudged to allow the photographer to capture this moment without their knowledge. In these photos, it wasn't a joyous moment to be documented and emulated in movies and novels. This was an exploitation of a weakness. A signal to let Harry know that they knew.

They'd found him.

Dropping the stack to the ground, Harry looked at his feet and saw every nightmare, every worst case scenario, every precaution he took now going down the drain. All of this running, fighting, and erasing just to be found anyway.

It was the photos of (Y/N) by herself that scared him the most. While there was that streak of fear for his own safety striking through his heart, he felt more for her than he could manage for himself. How could he have allowed himself to put his hands on her at all, let his eyes graze her skin, her face enter his dreams when he knew very well that this could happen?

He'd just ruined her life and she had no idea.

Peeking out just between a pair of photos of (Y/N) getting ready to go to bed was a page from a notebook. The blue lines were smeared, water stains on the very edge. Snagging the page, Harry kept his hands from shaking as best he could so he could read the red ink printed across.

It was (Y/N)'s home address. The address of the bakery. Her full name. And her phone number.

Every bit of pertinent information anyone would need to hurt her. It was the kind of information Harry had been given when he was sent out on jobs.

For a split second, Harry swore the earth shattered, but only in his chest. This message was worse than any photo they could have taken of him, any chase they could have given him, anything they could have done to only him. He knew what they were planning with that information if Harry didn't do something before then.

Just like that, everything stopped.

The shattering in Harry's chest ceased. His breathing became centered. His hands didn't shake. Every messy emotion, every wandering thought that didn't pertain to the goal was wiped away and tucked into a box to be shoved into a corner.

The switch had been flipped.

While there was a suddenly dormant part of him that worried over how easy it was to turn this version of himself on again, even after so many years, that couldn't be of a single concern of the moment.

With everything packed away, Harry could focus now. His mind was clear. A plan was forming, a list being written, that would dictate how the next twelve hours were going to go. When the time came, he'd reevaluate and add to his plan. Now was the time for first steps.

He wasn't safe here anymore. He couldn't stay in this apartment and wait for them to come back and either force him into doing things he swore he never would again, or kill him.

(Y/N) wasn't safe here anymore, either. She couldn't stay in her own home. They had enough information on her to make her a sitting duck without her ever being aware until the unthinkable happened.

He needed to leave, and (Y/N) was going with him.

WIth the photos and the page of her information left on the ground, Harry's instincts kicked in. This was just the exact reason he didn't have much of anything to lug around with him. His life needed to be packed up in as little time as possible.

Pulling a too-familiar duffle bag out from under his bed, Harry began the process. First, clothing was to be stuffed into the bag. He'd leave his work clothes for whoever would eventually break into his apartment and find him gone. The one book he'd never leave without was next. Hopefully, Ms. Klarke wouldn't hate him for never returning the books he borrowed this week. Tucked inside the cushion of his clothing was the photo of his mother and sister. Their faces were only blurs with the way he didn't allow a second to focus on them. A stash of cash he had stuffed under his mattress was next. Almost everything he made went to keeping this emergency fund stocked and untouchable. Shoved under his bed, farthest back against the wall, were a duo of guns he quickly plucked up and stuck into his duffle. Extra ammunition was next.

As a passing thought, Harry grabbed the photos strewn across the floor. There couldn't be a trace of him left behind. He was now nothing but a ghost that had haunted this apartment and left in the middle of the night. He was no one.

Everything he owned was stuffed in his duffle bag along with a manila folder of photos that felt as if they could set the whole thing on fire. Dressed in a dark hoodie he'd thrown over his torso and black pants he'd worn to work, Harry stepped out into the open hallway. He didn't bother to look around, trying to find any prying eyes.

His neighbours were of no concern to him now, and if anyone of importance had been watching him, he wouldn't have gotten this far in the first place. Shutting the door behind him, Harry placed his key atop the door frame. His landlord could find that easy enough, he figured.

Harry didn't look back as he left his apartment behind, his duffle bag heavy over his shoulder. He wanted to be sad. If not for the fact he couldn't feel much of anything at the moment, he knew there would have been a sting over the life he was leaving behind. This was the first place he thought he could have been normal; this was the first place he saw himself as more than a simple survivor. He was beginning to be someone here.

But as he jogged down the rusting staircase, Harry remembered he wasn't anyone. And, that was the only way to survive.

—————

Before Harry could even be sure of what he was doing, he was in front of (Y/N)'s house. He couldn't slow down to think this through—or really think at all. Even if he was fairly certain he wasn't being watched, there was no reason to slow down when he had somewhat of a head start.

Slipping out of his car, he worked as quietly as he could. While he didn't care about his neighbours, (Y/N)'s were people who couldn't know about their next moves. He didn't want anyone else to get wrapped up in this.

His duffle bag had been left in the backseat of his car, one of the guns he had now stowed away in the glovebox. The photos still taunted him even if he wasn't looking at them.

Harry tried his best to keep the strength out of his urgency as he knocked on (Y/N)'s front door. It was no surprise when there was no response, not even a stirring inside. It was three a.m.. But he didn't really have time for her to wake up.

He knocked again, a little more force given to the rapping. He barely gave a moment of reprieve before he had reached for his phone in his hoodie pocket and dialed her number. He didn't stop knocking as his phone rang for hers.

It's on the second phone call to her and the fourth minute of knocking on her door that had her opening up. Swinging the door open, she was unveiled to be just as tired as he figured. Her pajamas consisted of a large t-shirt and a pair of tiny shorts. Her socked feet shuffled as she rubbed at her eyes with her free hand.

She looked barely awake, as if she were trying to figure out if she were still dreaming when she squinted at him. "Harry?"

Her voice was hoarse. He wanted to feel guilty for waking her up from such a deep sleep, but he couldn't feel much of anything.

"We need to go," he told her, voice quiet and intense as he slid his phone back into his pocket. He was going to have to do something with that, he figured. They could be tracking him with it for all he knew.

A harsh blink of her eyes did little to wipe the sleep from her gaze. (Y/N) ran a heavy hand through her hair, tugging away stray strands that obscured her view. "Huh?"

Harry could feel her eyes on him as he brushed past her into her home. He stepped over the threshold with the kind of scary confidence he hadn't felt in years. It was a wonder how he was able to hide behind something as fragile for so long.

(Y/N) didn't fight him, only shutting the door and twisting the lock after him. "What do you mean?"

He didn't turn to look at her even when he started giving commands: "We need to leave, (Y/N). Pack some clothes while we have a little bit of time."

Some sense seemed to be making its way into her sleep-addled brain. Her eyes cleared up as he looked at him. She blinked with a flutter of her lashes, a pinch appearing between her brows. "Harry, I don't think I understand what's going on... W-Why do we need to leave?"

Her line of questioning went right over his head, the plan the only thing properly processing in his brain. He ignored her as he maneuvered around her to scale the staircase to the second floor. Her bedroom was down this hall, he knew.

"Jus' pack some clothes, and whatever you think y'need. We need to leave in the next ten minutes."

(Y/N)'s steps were decidedly softer and more cautious as she followed him upstairs. "Harry?" she tried to call for him, tone gentle, "Do you need to sit down for a second? I can get you some water and something to eat, I just need you to tell me what's going on."

The lights were flicked off in her room like the rest of her house. That would make this job that much harder, but Harry didn't feel as if he had even a second to spare to switch on the lights. He needed a bag, that's where he needed to start.

"Harry? Are you listening to me?"

Did she have a duffle bag, or would he have to settle for a tote? It didn't matter much in the grand scheme, but she had too many creature comforts that he knew she wouldn't have the heart to leave behind. A duffle would allow more room. Maybe, in her closet...

Just as he grabbed the knob to invite himself into her closet, he felt her grab his arm. Her grip wasn't anything he couldn't break out of, but the fact she touched him at all had him stopping in his place.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on. You're scaring me, Harry."

His focus shifted at her words. A point of clarity had been made in her touch and the plea in her voice. Turning to face her, Harry loosened his hold on the doorknob though he couldn't find it in himself to completely let go.

Her eyes glimmered as she looked up at him. The film of sleep had been wiped away, leaving nothing but the raw fear he'd instilled there. There was a tremor in her touch he hadn't noticed before. And, he knew it was all his fault.

A crack appeared in the steel demeanor he'd wrapped himself in.

He couldn't crack right now, Harry knew that. He needed to be careful.

Cracks had been appearing for months now. He was only fooling himself every time he said he was still being careful while orbiting around her. Now, look at where he was.

They couldn't afford for Harry to crack anymore. One more splinter in the ice beneath his feet and he'd be taking her down with him.

Dropping his hands to settle on her arms, Harry ducked down, crowding around her as he matched her watery gaze tenfold. Even in the dark, he knew he was close enough for her to catch every measured breath he took, every fleck of intensity in his eyes.

"I need you to trust me, (Y/N)," he told her, his voice low just for her to hear. "Do you trust me?"

The way she didn't hesitate to give him a small nod, even in the dark of the night with millions of questions running through her head, would've broken his softened heart if he hadn't caged it away for the time being.

He pulsed his hands around her arms. He didn't break his gaze from hers as he spoke, "I need you to grab enough clothes to last you a week or so, and anything y'can't live without. Okay? We need to leave as soon as possible. We need to get somewhere safe."

(Y/N) broke their eye contact, her own gaze searching his face for something he wasn't sure she'd find. Her chest rose with a lingering breath, her brows downturning just the smallest bit the longer she looked at him. It wasn't until she matched her gaze to his once more that she spoke.

"Okay."

It was barely more than a peep, but it was all he needed to hear.

Harry stepped out of her way as she moved on stunted limbs. She rifled through her closet for a moment only to reappear with the duffel he'd been hoping she had. She shoveled clothes in; soft sweaters, comfortable pants, t-shirts, all the things he'd seen her wear before, but they didn't look quite as sweet under these circumstances. (Y/N) was silent as she moved to the bathroom, the clanging of bottles and drawers sliding open and closed was all heard as she packed whatever she needed.

He wanted to feel anything as he watched her. He wanted anything to take root in his chest as he watched her pack up as much of her life as she could fit in that bag, but he didn't feel anything. There wasn't any guilt, fear, or pressure. He felt numb.

After she had her phone and her charger in her bag, he started her down the stairs. She didn't protest, didn't tell him she needed to grab anything else before they left. (Y/N) only followed.

"Put some shoes on," he told her gruffly, stopping her before she marched on out with only socks covering her toes.

"Right," she mumbled, immediately looking towards her end table with shoes shoved underneath. She picked her white Vans.

Wordlessly, Harry tucked her hand in his. He led her quickly out the door and down the steps of her porch. The click of her putting the lock in place did little to quell the urgency that was filling his chest now that they were out in the open for anyone to see.

It was an odd moment of deja vu, he felt as he guided her down the steps. Her hand was warm in his, the same way it was when she had led him inside for breakfast and a first kiss. That felt like a lifetime away instead of a weekend.

He took her bag and shoved it into the back seat along with his before he offered her the front passenger seat. (Y/N) didn't say anything as she buckled herself in, avoiding his eyes even when he slipped in beside her behind the steering wheel.

Turning the key, the dashboard lit up. He had enough gas in the tank to take them far enough away before they'd have to stop. His chest loosened at the sight of the meter. At least they had that.

Harry lingered in his spot at the curb in front of her house. His hands were heavy on the steering wheel, the car geared into drive, but he left his foot on the brake. The sun was still a couple of hours from breaking the horizon, leaving the only light from the waning moon and the dashboard tinting his car in a ghastly green. It was just enough light to see the tears glimmering in (Y/N)'s eyes and the exhaustion already trying to pull her down.

She had no answers, no idea of what kind of mess he'd brought her into, but she followed him anyway. The ice under Harry's feet cracked at the thought.

All it took was the reminder of the pad of paper with every bit of information a person needed to hurt (Y/N), all printed in slashes of red ink, to have that crack beginning to seal. She didn’t need someone who was cracking and just as scared as she was. She needed someone who would make her safe.

"Ready?" Harry grumbled, looking away before she could catch his eyes.

(Y/N) only nodded.

—————

sage represents wisdom; knowing when to run from the past or fight

now stuff is starting to happen!!! I would love to hear what you all think is going on and everything!!! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please send in any ideas or requests or anything!

796 notes · View notes

ghouljams · 9 months

Note

reading the fae au has my daddy issues REELING-

i dunno do i want to be held and comforted by one of them or fucked dumb😭🙏

could you maybe do some like paternal/father figurey stuff with any fae boy you want… cant prove the stereotype daddy issues right guys please im more than wanting old me to make me worse…

As previously stated I asked my friend for help writing the original fae!Price post. Gave me the main pointers on how it all worked.

Do you want more actual dad stuff with Ghost and baby? Or is this just wanting older men to be nice to you?

I'm just gonna have Price run some aftercare on his Witch.

You're still a little floaty, still fuzzy at the edges from having your own magic turned against you. You hear Price opening a window to let the smoke out, and you feel sort of cold without him holding onto you. Your whole body aches like you just finished working an overly complicated spell. You turn your head to rub your cheek against the couch, the worn fabric just rough enough against your skin to start to ground you back in your body.

You've done this enough times. Grounding. You stretch your fingers out and- oh, hm. Your hands are still tied behind your back. That explains the ache in your shoulders. Right. Right, you remember. You were bad at following orders, so Price had to- Why does that thought make your heart hurt a little. A small noise escapes you, somewhere between upset and need.

Price is by you in an instant, crouching to be sure he can look in your eyes as he slips his hand under your cheek to hold your face. "You're alright sweetheart," He tells you softly, "we're done, you did good."

You roll your shoulders wordlessly, your throat hurts, he nods and pushes up to reach over you and untie your wrists. You sag with a sigh feeling the pressure around your wrists disappear. Price reappears, looking over your face, checking for signs of distress. The gentle touches are so far flung from the bruising grip he'd had on you not long ago.

"You ok to sit up?" He asks, and you nod, "Good girl, up we go." Price helps you ease into sitting, his hand pressing between your shoulders to take some of the weight from the movement. Your head spins a little, and you make another upset noise at the pain of it. "I know, sugar, I know." His arm slides under your knees, the other wrapping around your shoulders.

You haven't been lifted in years, but your brain is a little sluggish in processing the soft grunt from Price before you're no longer on the couch. You rest your head against his shoulder, ground yourself a little in his scent. Or you try to, but the lingering tobacco and morning glory give you another shot of the brain fuzzies.

You drift for a while, settled at some point on the edge of your tub. The rush of water and smell of sachet herbs doing little to pull you back to earth until you are actually submerged. Magic sloughs off of you as you sink under the warm water. You hold your breath and stare up at Price through the refraction.

When you pull yourself back up to oxygen you feel like you're in your body again. At least magically. Price's hands catch your shoulders before you can tip forward back into the water. "Easy sweetheart," He tells you, his hands are rough and calloused, another feeling to ground with. You take a deep breath, trying to pull yourself from the non-magical portion of this. The soft dreamy space you'd settled in, the need to please him with little care to your own needs. "Not in a rush," Price presses your shoulders back against the end of the tub, "Just breathe, I'm not going anywhere," You close your eyes, rest your cotton stuffed head against the edge of the tub, "You did so good, I'm so proud of you."

You don't really know why he's telling you that, but it helps. Makes your ribs unwind a little. He pulls one of your hands from the water and digs his fingers into your palm, dragging and rubbing the ache from your hand before moving up to your wrist. Price pulls the pain out of your limbs as easily as he pulled the thoughts from your head, whispering soft sweet things to you until you're starting to doze.

"All mine," He murmurs, pressing his lips against the pulse in your wrist. You hum assent. All his.

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ilylovelyz · 9 months

Note

slow burn kiyoomi x reader 🥹

⍣ ೋ what is love?

˚ · . sakusa x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ slowburn, angst w happy ending, heartbreak/rejection, mutual pining, denial is a river in egypt sakusa, slight jealousy and possessiveness, none of these are in order btw, sakusa is such an asshole, this is kinda all over the place </3, literally my longest story ever, my terrible attempt at my first actual slow burn, this is split into two parts because my phone cant handle it, prt 2.

we met for a reason. i'm still trying to figure that part out.

romance is something that sakusa didn't think was necessary in life.

he didn't deem it a serious issue, nor did he want that issue of "falling in love". whenever he heard his friends talking about their girlfriends or just romance in general, he had to hold back an aggressive eye-roll because he didn't see the hype of it all.

too busy with volleyball, he could barely make time for his own friends and family. he was okay with that, he didn't want to be distracted anyways. he didn't need that dumb "romance", he didn't need someone to hold his hand while he cried or whatever.

he didn't need to have someone to love, all he needed was himself, and himself only.

but, he couldn't help those vast, deep feelings late at night. the clock would read a wee time in the morning, but he couldn't sleep. his mind was purged with thoughts, questions, and curiosity.

what is love?

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

he didn't expect his question to be answered so soon.

he remembers it in extreme detail, the day he met you. the air was getting colder, the trees getting more bare and leaves falling with every slight breeze. it was the beginning of his third year of high-school, his last year of high-school. he wanted to savor his last year before he finally graduated into adulthood, often admiring the crunch the orange-brown leaves underneath his feet.

he would find himself taking a different route home, walking through a park with many trees and plants. he thought the view was nice. the park was very popular when he was younger, but now, it was considered unordinary to even see a stray dog walking nearby.

the once beloved park was all but forgotten, giving a nostalgic yet liminal feeling. but it seemed it wasn't forgotten by all.

he was near almost exiting the park when he saw a bench ahead, with a figure sitting on it. the closer he got, did he realize it was a girl around maybe his age. when he was maybe 10 feet away from the bench, did he see that the girl was wearing his school uniform.

he was going to just leave the park, but of course, you heard his footsteps and acknowledged his presence, causing him to halt his steps. "hello! i didn't know that anyone was still visiting this place. you're wearing my school's uniform too! what's your name?" you eagerly said, almost blinding him with your energetic and bright energy.

he wonders how differently life would've been if he hadn't given you his name and engaged in small talk with you. although the conversation was short and almost awkward, he found an odd pleasure talking with you.

from the way he was so standoffish and cold, he, for some reason, thought you wouldn't be there the next day, maybe scaring you off from coming there again. and of course, the next day, you were there. you were sitting up on the bench, almost like you were awaiting him.

once you saw him, you harassed him with more questions and excited small talk, asking him little things and what grade he was in, etc. he was, like always, stiff and almost resistant, but that didn't seem to stop you from trying to make a conversation with him.

it was like that for the next few days, just you engaging random conversations with him as soon as he within 5 feet of you. at the beginning, it was almost exhausting because you were persistent and almost pushing information and communication with him. at some point, he would resist the urge to run away or telling you to simply shut up and leave him alone, or even just wondering if he should go back to his old walking route.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

within a few weeks it was like talking and seeing you become apart of his routine. the weather was much colder, and the days became shorter. after practice, an unaware komori would ask him if he would like to go with him to convenience stores or karaoke, but sakusa would immediately decline. he didn't even think about it before declining, nor did he think of a reason behind it.

to a logical sakusa, the sun was setting quickly now that it was the cold seasons, and with every minute, the air was getting colder, so he had to be quick and walk home. but, to a subconscious sakusa, he was quick to walk home because he knew you would be waiting for him. it would be rude to keep you waiting.

everything was good like that for a while. he came to accept your persistence and conversations, seeing you as nothing more than the chatty person on the bench, at the forgotten park, who has near 10 keychains on her school bag. he found himself conversing with you without a thought, almost talking with you until sunset, sometimes having to run home because he got carried away in conversation with you.

after he acknowledged your presence, he began to see you everywhere at school. whether it be walking to school (after deciding to take the park route for the mornings as well), at lunch, or even in the hallways. as usual, you would smile at him, bright and welcoming as always.

he remembers the day in great detail he acknowledged maybe you were a little more than "the chatty person on the bench, at the forgotten park, who has near 10 keychains on her school bag". it was in mid-november, when they had a particularly good and hard match held at their school. it felt good to win, and it felt even better that they didn't have to travel for it.

it was when he looked at his phone's time, exiting the locker rooms did he realize that he was forgetting something important. he didn't realize what is was though, but he tried to shrug it off by joining komori to go to a convenience store to get some celebration snacks, particularly umeboshi filled rice balls.

it was when he was paying for the snacks did he see a cute pink bear keychain, did he remember what he forgot about. within a second, and almost scaring his dear cousin, did he quickly pay and practically dash out the store, running down the sidewalk to the way to of the park. he ignored the oncoming rain clouds and sounds of thunder, almost slipping and running into many water puddles, almost falling his way down the stairs of the park.

he only stopped running when he was 10 feet away from the bench, chest heavy and rapidly moving as he tried to regain his breath. the sun was already setting, the sky in a shade of bright red to a solemn cloudy blue. he walked closer to the bench, eyes guilty as he took in your rain-soaked uniform and wet hair.

"why didn't you just go home." he asked, though it didn't sound much like a question, more like a demand. you stayed quiet for a minute, and during that minute, did sakusa's mind be purged with similar questions of why didn't you just go home. he just couldn't understand you.

"because i just wanted to talk with you, is all."

he mentally facepalmed at your response. are you serious? his eyebrows visibly cringed, mouth slightly agape at your nonchalant, almost brain cell-degrading response. no way this is real. no way you are real.

suddenly he found himself coming towards you, grabbing you from the bench with your wrist, forcing you onto your feet as he dragged you along with him to walk home. he didn't know where the hell you lived, but that didn't stop him from dragging you with him. on the way, he scolded you so intensely at some point he was just blabbering about how you piss him off so much, and that he just can't seem to understand how stupid you are.

for what reason did you do all of that for?! just to talk? unbelievable.

his almost insulting words and near-degradation just seemed to go in one ear, and out the other though, as you found yourself giggling and making mischievous remarks to his verbal abuse. your non-serious responses without a care in the word just seemed to make him angrier, the veins in his neck almost prominent because he was just that angry.

after a lot of walking around, he somehow found where you live without your help because you seemed to enjoy his suffering, and after a especially crude and almost bewildering response from you did he just have enough of you. before you could even laugh, he was spinning around to face you, grabbing you roughly by your shoulders, and shaking you intensely. almost as if he was trying to shake some common sense into you.

after condemning you to the hell, he roughly shoved two umeboshi rice balls and the pink bear keychain into your chest before storming off home. you ignored the way he basically assaulted you, only smiling at the fact that he had obviously thought of you when buying two umeboshi rice balls. he said it was his favorite food one of the first few times you had talked with him.

walking into your empty house, where you had no siblings, and two very hard-working parents. sitting down onto the floor's ledge to take off your shoes, you grabbed your school bag, adding the 11th keychain to your collection.

you blushed intensely at the seemingly little detail. how cute of him to note your little obsessions.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

yet another day that left sakusa laying awake at night thinking about the day's nonsense. particularly, your nonsense.

he was closing his damn eyes! he was somehow getting a headache from it. the "useful hack" his mother always told him on school nights when he seemed to have a hard time sleeping wasn't working. he found himself sighing in defeat, eyes wondering to the clock besides his bed every 5 minutes or so.

2:44am. massaging his temple, he laid his palm over his forehead. you're going to be the death of him. for the past few weeks, you've been almost plaguing his life. you've plagued his park, his school, his volleyball, hell, even his dreams.

could he even call them dreams? more like nightmares.

his hand traveled down to his mouth, covering it in denial.

his eyes were low with resistance and exhaustion, softly fluttering as he deeply inhaled, preparing himself as he sought out for reasoning and "maybe"s to explain your stupid actions and the way you've become such a distraction to his once peaceful life.

except, there were no "maybe"s. only one truth, that he doesn't want to accept

he let out the breath he's been holding back for the past minute or so for a sigh of defeat. his other free hand comes to lay against his chest, feeling his heart beat rebelliously against his will.

he finally feels the need for sleep, eyes closing to escape from his thoughts. he's had enough for the day. he's had enough. before he lulls asleep, he thinks back to the question he's only asked himself during the similar times when he wasn't able to fall asleep due to mindlessness curiosity.

what is love?

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

the day after that, sakusa hesitantly makes his way to the park.

it's cold as hell, he might have to start taking the much shorter route home, but he knows he won't.

he's slow with his walk in the park, knowing that towards the end, he'll have to pass by you, and engage with you like always. when he does walk past you, you don't engage with him as quickly as you usually do.

he doesn't know if it's because today, the weather is shit, or if it's because he looked almost disturbed at the sight of you after yesterday, or perhaps.. no. he shakes his head at the "maybe"s, it's best to be logical. he thinks that you're stupid enough to not have connected the dots.

he stands, again, away from you, almost as if he's ready to just walk away from you. but today, unlike his usual 8-10 feet distance sway from you, he's gotten closer. he's instead 5 feet away from you, how cute of him to try to try to be closer today, even after you put him through hell yesterday.

he puts his hands into the pockets of his trousers. you chalk it up to him being cold because he wasn't wearing gloves, for a matter of fact, he hasn't been wearing gloves for a while now. he used to have a pair, black, but he seemingly has lost them.

you stay observing him for a minute, eyebrow raised and mouth in a fine-line. he cowers his head into his black scarf, a little nervous due to your sudden stoicism.

you observe him even closer now that he's physically closer to you. he has nice hair, quite fluid and bouncy curls that move with the sharp wind. he has nice cheekbones, nose tall and great. it's cute how his one pale feature are now twinged with a light redness due to the cold.

you think he looks better in the winter, his dark and mysterious aura blends in with the subliminal background. almost like a model. with his dark coat and scarf, he looks snug and cozy, you're jealous.

suddenly, you're smiling at him mischievously. "'omi.." you coo, arms reaching for your school bag. at first. he used to scold you for addressing him by his first name, heartlessly telling you that you're not his friend, and that it's disrespectful not to use honorifics with someone you barely know. but now, he finds himself somehow softening at the nickname you've given him. somehow. but he's more nervous at the way you're smiling at him, smiling at him the way a teacher with no empathy does after they gave their student detention after being late by one minute.

he's prideful at the way he was able to hide he was about to turn blue from holding his breath as he wrote up your unusual behavior as you point out the newest collection to your keychains. "i really like the keychain you got me." you snide.

he silently nods at your words, not unusual due to his quiet nature. "i think it was really cute." you smirk. his head props up at the praise, "yeah, i got it at the little convenience store near the-", "no, i'm not talking about the keychain. i mean, i am, but i thought it was cute that you bought it for me." you interrupt, eyes crinkled up into a silly smile.

"were you thinking of me?" you say, covering your mouth in feigned surprise. his once stoic features turned almost annoyed. he finds that his face heats up, but chalks it up to the cold temperature.

his eyes blink a few times as you randomly start looking through the messy-ness that you call the contents of your bag, rummaging through crinkled up papers and candy wrappers before you seemingly find what you're looking for. with speeds that he swears he's never seen your lazy ass travel at, you whip out a pair of knit thick black gloves, holding it close to your face as you show it off to him before holding it them out for him.

"i made them for you. i noticed you haven't worn your black gloves in awhile, did you lose them?" with that, his annoyed expression soon softens with defeat.

usually due to the short daylight timing now, he would be heading home. the sun is close to setting, and the temperature is only getting lower. but, he finds sighing to himself slowing making his way closer to the bench before sitting down on it for the first time ever in the history of the past four months of talking with him.

you grin at this, mouth opening to start yet another mindless conversation with him.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

"yo, kiyoomi. do you have any plans for this saturday?" komori asks, "me and the team are going to go for karaoke and then something to eat. you should come." sakusa finishes wrapping up a knit black scarf around his neck before responding. "no, sorry, i have plans for this saturday. maybe another time."

komori is disappointed, but not surprised. "what do you have planned?" he asks, curious to as what his introvert cousin has planned. he takes note of the new scarf kiyoomi has, it's quite thick and warm looking. it's then does he connect the dots.

"are you going on a date with y/l/n-san?!" he teases, bringing a hand up to tug on the end of the scarf that was most-likely made by you, as, according to what sakusa said about you during the last family function after his mother pointed out sakusa has been seen "nonchalantly" texting with a girl and was all the sudden curt and annoyed.

it was during then that sakusa had admitted it was a girl, but refused the fact that it was in that way of texting, y'know, talking. but following that statement, he proceeded to privately talk to komori about you after he pressed him more on the matter.

one of the only few things sakusa said about it was him hesitantly muttering "she likes to knit, she's a grandma." before he refused to say anything more. it was only until a week later when komori finally met you after he spotted you and sakusa talking in the hallway.

he slapped his hand away from the scarf defensively. "it's not a date! it's just a casual hang-out." he scoffed coldly, hands trying to fight off his cousin's teasing hands, almost turning into a full-on wrestling match.

"congrats on getting a date!" one of his teammates said as he left the locker room, curly hair distressed from the assault he had just endured. he didn't have anymore energy to reply. he was slightly annoyed at his teammates making a big deal out of nothing. but why was he being so defensive about it? even to himself it was weird. overall, as he said, it's just a hang-out. not a date. nothing serious.

his hands fumbled around in his pockets, clad with the gloves you made him as waited at the intersection. his eyes stared at the road lights, counting down the seconds he could cross before eventually the light that was the pedestrian symbol lit up. he crossed with haste, overtaking those also making their way across. "mama, i'm cold," he heard a child say, clinging to their mother's warmth.

it is cold today. very cold, one of the coldest days so far this winter. he's lucky that you were kind enough to make him gloves and eventually a scarf, thick enough that it might as well be considered some type of cold resistant armor. his gloved hand mindlessly comes up to play with the ends of the scarf, it's become like a destresser for him when in large crowds like these.

he finds his anxiety dissipating as he gets closer towards the park, the crowds becoming more scarce before there's only one or two wondering souls walking around. he eventually comes to the main entrance, to the stairs of the sidewalk that leads into the low elevated park's grass. he makes sure to grab onto the metal handrail as he slowly steps down the now frozen-over steps before eventually stepping into the snow clad grass.

it's now december. almost 5 months of meeting you, and 5 months filled with meeting you after-school at this park. he makes his way towards the meeting spot, thick slow crunching underneath his feet with every step.

he sighs deeply as he sees you from across the field. you're just a tiny dot in the horizon, but he knows it's you. . the serene gentle snowfall and almost all-white background seems to be almost unreal as you sit back on the bench, eyes low and face the calmest he's seen as you wait for him.

you haven't seemed to have notice him yet, you have bad senses after-all. he takes this opportunity to just stand there and watch you, wondering if you'll do anything weird or unusual. but you don't, you just sit there, calm, awaiting him. it's not until the breeze picks up and his time of usual arrival has long passed do you start to look around.

much to your surprise, and for some reason, his surprise, do you finally see him standing 15 feet behind you, watching you.

you fluster and babble out obscenities as you connect the dots and realize he's been there all along, watching you. "you watching me this entire time? that's so rude y'know." you pout, arms crossing with feigned annoyance as he takes his place on the bench next to you.

he softly sighs at your whining, "i wanted to see if you would notice. you're not the brightest bulb out there y'know?" he says for-a-matter-of-fact. you proceed to give him the cold shoulder.. for two minutes before you're switching up your attitude and giving him a bright smile, turning your body towards him.

you ask him a question that you've been asking him for the past few days now.

"let's go to the plaza saturday!" you chatter, eyes wide with excitement as you tell him all the "benefits" of him going to the mall with you. "y'know, we can walk around, look at all the stuff, maybe buy some stuff, eat some stuff, and even go see the big christmas tree they put up!" he's quiet after, eyes looking to the side with feigned boredom.

you whine out defeatedly. "c'mon, omi.." the cry of his name has him softening once again. he was going to say yes eventually, just to torture you the way you love to torture him, but with the saying of his once-annoying nickname you chose for him, he gave in, slumping with a sigh.

"gee, fine. i'll go." he said, eyes rolling at your gleeful shouts. he tunes out your excited talks about what the two of you could do at the plaza when he realized that it's getting dark quicker than usual.

you stop talking when he abruptly stands up. "omi? you're leaving already..?" you cry out, eyebrows arching with disappointment. hands patting the snowfall off his coat, he turns to you. he's for some reason quick to soothe you. "we should start getting home, it's already getting dark. i don't want you walking home alone while it's dark."

you blush at his invitation, "you're walking me home..?" his eyebrow arches as he gives you a questioning look. "did i not say i don't want you walking home alone at night? it's dangerous."

"no, you've said enough, let's go!" you say, a hop in your step as you get up and start walking alongside him.

the walk home was unusually quiet yet peaceful. he walked a few steps behind you, whilst you were peacefully unaware, he was paying close attention to any shadow that moved.

at some point, a guy with a large black hood walked past the two of you, thus sparking a large spike of anxiety within sakusa. suddenly, the lazy walk turned into one of haste as his hands became glued to your back, forcing you to practically speed walk.

"kiyoomi! not everyone is an enemy!" you cried out, almost tripping over your own feet after a particular harsh shove when sakusa decided you weren't going fast enough for his liking.

much faster than to your liking, the two of you made it to your home. "better safe than sorry." he said stoically, opening your front gate for you while his eyes were still wandering around for anymore "suspicious" people. you pouted at this lame attempt of walking home together for the first time. "geez, you're such a scaredy cat." you mumbled.

he found himself lightly chuckling at your words. "goodnight, y/n-san," closing your front gate, making sure it was secure and locked, though, he didn't have much faith in it, as it was a simple stake bed latch. you yelled back a farewell goodnight, looking back to look at him as you unlocked your door before giving him a final smile and stepping into your house and closing your front door.

he stood at your gate for a minute before noticing your bedroom light come on, seeing you peek out the window. "what a creep," he hypocritically said to himself before finally walking back the way to his own house, once again passing by the same hooded guy, watching him with cold eyes.

except this time, the hood wasn't on. sakusa's eyes widened with embarrassment as he saw it was a simple, old frail man, almost old looking enough to be someone's great grandma.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

sakusa stayed close to you as the two of you walked around the crowds of people, making sure not to get too close to them for the sake of sakusa's sanity.

it was saturday, and here the two of you were, at the plaza.

sakusa was not big on fashion, but he did make it a point to not be lazy and at least try to look good. but since it was an outing, he made sure to try especially hard to look good. for some reason, he found himself wondering your opinion on some of his clothes as he picked out what to wear.

he sported a black oversized jacket a grey hoodie underneath and black trousers with white shoes. he made sure his curls looked extra tight and bouncy today as well. he also wore the scarf and gloves you made for him

he was relieved when his efforts didn't go unnoticed. "you really outdid yourself today. this is like, my first time seeing you without sweatpants, haha. oh, you smell nice too! did you get a new cologne?" you praised, hand coming to playfully punch at his shoulder.

"no, i wear this cologne, 'like', all the time, you look.. okay today too." he sarcastically said, pausing mid-sentence to eye you with feigned disgust. while you were whining and insulting him back, he took note of your outfit. you were wearing a beige wrap coat and large fluffy pink scar, with cream pants and white boots. he looked away quickly, looking everywhere but you. for some reason you're hard to look at today.

"so do you wanna eat first or-", before you could finish your sentence, you were interrupted by a call of sakusa's first name. you turned to see who called, eyes landing on the familiar face of sakusa's cousin, the rest being what you could only guess as sakusa's volleyball team.

"we didn't expect to see you here! what a coincidence?!" one of his teammates loudly boasted. before either of you could realize it, his teammates had practically surrounded him, separating the two of you. he could only quiver and shake with embarrassment as one of his worst fears could ever come to be. you stood there off to the side as you watched as they basically kidnapped sakusa and at the same time, pampered him like some baby.

you didn't know if you should laugh or just walk away. you know how it was for a guy and his friends. go big or go home.

you were deciding whether or not to fake an emergency before komori had suddenly called your name, catching the attention of his teammates. suddenly, you were the one who was kidnapped and pampered as you were bombarded with questions and introductions. you swear you even heard one of sakusa's teammates scold him for keeping a "big secret" away from them.

sakusa was about to proclaim his innocence and state it was a simple hang-out, not a date, before he literally almost snapped his neck at one of his unaware teammates calling you cute. that was his breaking point, as he found himself forcing a barrier between you and his teammates, practically condemning them to hell.

suddenly one of his teammates had the bright idea to bring what he probably thought was the best suggestion ever. "since we are now all here, let's hang out!" like unison, they all agreed as one, excluding a regretful komori and sakusa. he turned to you with a frightful face as you even agreed.

his worst nightmare, come true.

the next few hours were spent dreadfully as his you and his teammates practically dragged him alongside random places. arcades, shops, entertainment, food stalls, you name it, if it existed, it was visited.

"hey! let's go into this souvenir shop!" komori yelled, taking interest in a specific aesthetically-pleasing souvenir shop. "but we aren't even, like, foreigners.. we live here-", he said, trying to disagree before he was yet again dragged in.

he felt himself at wit's end. he just wanted this to be a relaxing day, with no distractions nor faults. he wasn't even able to talk with you that much, as this entire fucking time, his teammates were treating you like some damn celebrity. he somberly walked around the souvenir shop, nothing particularly special or eye-catching.

he was walking with a limp in his step before he suddenly nearly bumped into you. all the sudden, he had no limp and he wasn't dying of boredom. "aren't these cute?" you purred, eyes glued to silver keychains of various designs. he took note of the keychains, some of them gold, some of religious designs, some of animals, some mixed with stars and hearts.

he nodded to your question. "yes, they are." the sweet, finally quiet moment between the two of you was suddenly interrupted by a loud, grating voice of the same seemingly still unaware teammate from earlier addressing you by your first name. "hey y/n, what you lookin' at?" he cheerfully said, clearly not having a speck of awareness.

sakusa felt weird for some reason. almost a bit embarrassed. no, thats not it. he can't quite bit his finger on it. "oh, so suddenly you're on a first name basis with y/n-san? she's your senior, and you just met her didn't you?" he snided, almost growling at his blissfully unaware teammate.

his teammate frowned at sakusa's harsh words, "she doesn't have a problem with it. why do you care?" sakusa found himself almost fuming at that, only calming down komori finally stepped in, overhearing their conversation from nearby.

"hey, kiyoomi, y/l/n, we are gonna go back to the arcade, do you wanna come?" he asked, trying to diffuse the situation. thankfully, you declined his invitation, too fixated in the many keychains in front of you. sakusa happily declined, bidding farewell to his teammates.

as he watched them leave, he couldn't help but be so bothered by the whole situation. hand in his pocket, he frowned at the experience. he tuned everything out, only replying to your questions with short responses.

why is this so difficult? why is he even so mad? he can't just be mad at his teammate like that. but he is. but why? it was just small talk between the two of you. but then again, his teammate doesn't know you like that enough to be referring and talking to you like you're a good friend of his or something.

sakusa himself doesn't even refer your first name without honorifics, and he definitely didn't call you by your first name within three hours of meeting you too. his teammate doesn't know the way you have an obsession with keychains. his teammate doesn't know you like knitting. his teammate doesn't know the first 5 things about you like sakusa does, so he needs to stop with being all buddy-buddy with you.

mid-mental rant, he oddly found his hand coming up to his scarf, intertwining his fingers with the ends of the loose yarn. his eyebrows are furrowed intensely with thought as he tried to figure out whats bothering him.

he's distressed as his fingers fumble with the yarn, mind working as he tries to figure out a solution to this new issue of his.

"omi?" you coo out.

he's quick to look up at you, voice alluring and gentle. "omi, aren't these cute?" he takes a second as he regains himself to look at whatever you're cooing over.

two silver keychains. both imprinted of with a weasel, molded of exact shapes to fit together like puzzle pieces when forced together. little stars and hearts surrounding the weasels in question. two silver matching keychains of weasels that seem to be in love, meant for couples.

"omi?" you say once again, awaiting a response from him. he's yet to respond, eyes slightly wide as he realizes he's found the issue. he takes a minute before he's asking you a question that he's been longing to be answered.

"y/n-san," he hesitantly calls out. you finally look at him, acknowledging the odd tone within his voice. you tilt your head at him, plump lips tilted upwards in a pout.

"y/n-sa-.. y/n.. what is love to you?"

your eyes widen at his unexpected question. you stammer and awkwardly giggle at his question, "w-what?" he's quick to remind you of his question, "what is love, to you."

you blink a few times before your eyes soften and you turn back to look at the matching keychains. "to me.. love is when you just.." you mumble. sakusa cranks his head at that, still quite confused at your answer.

you take his obvious confusion to elaborate further. "..w-well, love can be different for many people. for some, y'know, it could be love-at-first-sight, like they just make eye contact with someone and just fall in love with them.." you check to see if he's still confused and listening before you continue on.

"..then there's unrequited love, which is kinda one sided.. theres platonic love, y'know the love you give to your family. compassionate is when you not only feel love, but also sexual desire. there's obviously self-love. there's also love where it's obsessive, which is less about love and more about control-," mid-blabbering sakusa had interrupted you. "but what is love, to you."

ah. you finally took the keychains off their rack, holding the cold silver within your palms, smiling down at them warmly. "to me, love is when you just adore someone so much.. like you wanna be with them all the time, wanna talk to them all the time. you'll try your best for them, even if they try to push you away. you can't help but think of them constantly, you get reminded of them by the tiniest things ever.." you paused for a second, cheeks a twinge of red.

"some call that unconditional love. when you love them no matter what. 'n omi.. y'know.." you took a deep inhale, preparing to face him. "i really don't know, it's a little too early to say.. but.. i really like you.." you confessed, voice growing meek towards the end, finally shifting your whole body towards him.

only, he wasn't where he was standing a literal five minutes ago. no, you looked around the store, occasionally calling out his name, still holding the two matching keychains within your clenched, nervous hands.

he was gone.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

he was glad it was during winter break did he last see you. he wouldn't be able to face you if he had to see you so soon.

he couldn't sleep, it was now the day of new year's eve. he glanced up at the clock. 2:09AM

for the past week or so, he had you on mute, stomach dropping with guilt every time he saw the many unopened messages you sent him, the last one being sent earlier during the evening.

he brushed a hand through his distressed curls, hoping to alleviate his stress. komori and his teammates has also sent him messages as well, many of which along the lines of "hey, what happened? where did you go?" or even "where are you? y/l/n is all alone."

what made him even more stressed was when the very same teammate from saturday had texted sakusa asking for your number. sakusa didn't even respond to that dumb message.

sakusa sat up in his bed, giving up on sleeping. eventually, he'll have to face you, he can't hide from you forever. forehead crinkling at the obnoxious light of his phone, he pressed a hesitant think to your contact, heart regretting immediately when he saw your texts.

6:54PM omi where did u go?

7:00PM u okay? did u leave?

7:11PM i found komori and the others

7:15PM did i make you uncomfortable?

7:15PM im really sorry if i did

7:34PM ur teammate is offering to walk me home

7:36PM komori is walking me home too

7:36PM ur cousin is so nice! ur teammate is rllly funny too haha ヾ(^ ^ゞ

7:50PM just made it home

7:52PM kinda wouldve preferred if it was u who walked me home haha (≖͞_≖̥)

9:03PM goodnight kiyoomi ´･ᴗ･`

he couldn't help but furrow his eyebrows in distaste at the mention of his teammate, although slightly relieved at komori making so you wouldn't be alone with him. you texted him the day after a few more times after before you stopped texting all together.

the last text you sent this evening was you wishing sakusa a happy new year with a bunch of happy emojis. his felt swelled with what he now knows what he's been feeling these couple months of knowing you. the tender fondness he has for you has him chewing on his lip with anxiety.

before he could stop himself, his fingers began to tap against the screen.

2:20AM y/n let's talk.

with a regretful sigh, he lowered his elbow over his eyes in shame. he relaxed his body, heart steady. only, his heart once calm started to beat intensely once he saw the familiar light up of his phone.

2:22AM let's meet at the park for new years?

this is the longest fic ive ever written and it's only half of it i dont expect it to get a whole lot attention cuz its quite shit my phone is lagging as i write this im splitting it into two parts because my phone cant handle this PLEAE leave a like and repost 😭 prt 2.

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yoonsdoll · 26 days

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a love worth waiting for - chs

content : bsf!vernon x f!reader ; a lil angsty but fluff & happy ending ; 1.5k words warnings : vernon curses like 2ce lol - you are the most important person to vernon, but is it requited? an : i keep going on random writing hiatuses for no reason even tho i have so many ideas idek someone sos!!

vernon has loved you ever since he met you. as cheesy as it sounds, its something he cant deny whenever his friends ask him about, something he rants for hours about to his sister, something he finds himself thinking about more often than not.

he remembers it like it was yesterday, even if its been years. it was an unusual meeting; seeing a pretty girl on a walk in the middle of summer would usually be normal, if only he didn't trip on a rock and land awkwardly conveniently on your path… and then make a comment on how his sister has the same shoes as you as if you’d care.

but you did. you made sure he was okay and laughed at his comment, then blabbered something about how your boyfriend has a similar hat to him. and, oh. he should've seen that coming.

of course he should have. such a put together, sweet girl would obviously have lines of guys lining up at her feet (or falling, in hansols case). but that didn’t matter - you only just met, you’d probably become friends if he asked for your number, that would be enough for him.

and for the first few months it was enough. you hit it off great, messaging each other often and even hanging out occasionally… well, when your jackass boyfriend let you. he hated your boyfriend - no, despised him. it wasn't even a case of jealousy; more of a genuine worry, at least for a while. he made it vocal on how he doesn’t like how your boyfriend controlled your life, but obviously supported your choices anyway. who wouldn't? you became his best friend, he would do anything to see you happy.

behind the worry he presented, vernon was stuck.

“i don't get it, why would she be with him if he's so.. controlling and mean?” everyday he called his friends.

“she literally looks unhappy, i feel bad and.. i dunno, angry... is that stupid?” everyday he talked about it, about how he wants to help you and, well, about you. “shes so… nice and pretty and forgiving. dude, he really doesn’t deserve her.”

until one day, “i could treat her better.”

he accepted it. he knew it wasn’t fair, for him or for you. everything leading up to that moment that he did, he thought it was simply sympathy. he put on this friendly act to not hurt your feelings, but maybe it was to not hurt his own. you wore your heart on your sleeve. it was obvious you were in love with your boyfriend, not him. and no matter what he did, that wouldn’t change.

soon you noticed the same things that vernon begged you to see in your boyfriend for a very long time. the gaslighting, restrictiveness, the bored attitude, and when you drifted apart it was only a waiting game till you broke it off.

vernon was surprised that the way his eyes sparkled when you came to cry to him didn’t give him away. truthfully, he couldn’t care less about the way it all went down or what he told you while you broke up with him. what mattered was that you were out of the situation you were blinded in.

“he was a fucking dick,” no brainer, “its unfair - y'know, someone you love being out of reach.” those words sounded awfully familiar.

actually, maybe to him what mattered more is that he finally could reach you.

“i still love him,” you mumbled between your tears as vernon cooed at you.

he should've seen that coming too, and he couldn’t blame you at all - ever. but why did it sting so much more than the first time?

when he searched for your laugh after making a joke, you were laughing out of pity. when he comforted you, you weren’t thinking about him and how he was always there for you, instead you were thinking about yourself. when home to him was wherever you were, home to you was wherever your ex boyfriend was.

you just lost someone so dear to you and he was being so selfish.

you two breaking up should've been the greatest thing he has heard in months, but instead he suddenly couldn’t help but feel like there was a bigger wall between you both than ever.

of course, you never had feelings for him in the first place. vernon knew that. but something in him always held onto the possibility of you ending up together. not anymore, not after those four words left your mouth. he felt stupid for ever even having hope.

he paused to think before he spoke - something he rarely ever did when he was with you. “i know you do.” shaking his head gently, he added, “your heart just got broken, its a fresh wound, of course you still love him.” did everything he say have to apply to him too? it was almost humiliating in a way.

“its embarrassing… im the one who broke it off, i shouldn’t like him.” right, you felt it too.

at the end of the day, no matter who he was to you, you recognised him as someone you could trust. you spoke your thoughts freely, you were always by his side, you were his best friend; thats something vernon failed to see. he understood now to expect nothing but appreciate everything. because after all, being your friend would always be enough for him.

vernon promised himself he wouldn’t do or say anything stupid for your sake. he knew breakups are tough, and he knew that feelings don’t change in a day. he loved you, so he never would blame you for anything negative you made him feel. he wouldn’t blame you because you didn’t know.

or so he thought.

because months later when you arrived at his door looking more nervous than usual with a small smile on your face, vernon couldn’t be more confused.

“its almost 11pm.. what’re you doing here…?”

you let yourself in, setting your shoes aside and placing your coat on the hanger before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the couch to sit down.

“is it true?”

“...is what true?”

“is it true that you have feelings for me?”

was that a trick question? “i mean..” he cleared his throat with a harsh cough, leaving the room silent for a few moments that felt like hours. “is that really what you’re doing at my house at 11 in the evening?”

“stop it. stop avoiding the question. just answer me.”

“where’d you even get that idea from? dude i mean, you’re my best friend so if you’re asking -”

“you know what im asking..” your hands felt clammy, suddenly regretting knocking on the door after debating if you should for a solid 5 minutes. “i’m.. not mad or anything.” you added.

this was the million dollar question. he felt scared. “ha..” he couldn’t help but scoff to himself, “yeah.” though his tone tried being confident, the lack of eye contact and leg jittering was enough to see how nervous he truly was.

“im… so sorry,” you stared at him with your nose slightly scrunched - a detail he noticed whenever you were upset. “what? sorry? pfft.. theres nothing to be sorry for.” you figured he’d say that.

“im sorry for not noticing it earlier. i feel like an idiot.”

“no.. i feel like the idiot.” he quickly butted in, trying to take the blame, “you shouldn’t have to ‘notice’ anything. i should have told you ages ago so we could get past… whatever this is. i was just being a pussy and i -”

you admired his dedication to try explain but decided to stop him. “no vernon, im sorry for making you wait.”

making him wait? “what are you even talking about? you didn’t do anything i swear…”

“maybe you really are the idiot..” you suddenly smiled a little wider, catching him off guard, “i meant i'm sorry for not noticing my feelings.. for you.. earlier.”

if he was confused before, he was now completely dumbfounded. the frown on his face wiped into a completely new expression. one of certain shock and hope, but with an equal amount of doubt.

“agh..” you groaned in fake annoyance, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, “i’m telling you that i like you too.”

oh. for once, he didn’t see that coming.

“are you serious?” he mumbled out, struggling to process the consumed information, a million things going through his mind.

“no im lying.” you tilted your head, “obviously im serious, why else would i be here?”

“you’re right.. i don’t know why i said that.” he nodded, a smile forming on his own face, “im just… at a loss of words dude.”

he let go of a breath he didn’t notice he was holding, sighing from relief as he looked at you. no more words were exchanged before he moved closer to hug you. a hug of love, ease and joy.

“if so.. can i be your boyfriend?” he whispered in a happier tone than before, the previous fear moulded into delight.

“yeah. i’d like that a lot.”

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bulbabutt · 1 year

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if i can be corny for a second i wanna talk about the greatest strengths of the 2003 tmnt series and why it speaks to me (esp as a queer person)

so i might have alluded to this before, but let me say it outright: each show is definitely a product of its time, and the ideals of whatever generation its from. whether talking about the humour, the story, the dialogue etc, its always important to remember that these shows will always come off in a way due to the generation theyre from. and thats not a bad thing! it just means its important to think about them from that perspective.

2003 is a show of my generation growing up, and a thing about that era that maybe some people younger than me wont understand is there is so much more language commonly available to describe yourself now than there was then. you can take this in any context; mental health, sexuality, gender identity, or even just the ability to describe your relationships with more (idk if this will be the right word) therapist language.

in 03 we have a family unit of splinter and his sons, each with their own strengths and weaknesses. we have a splinter who hasnt opened up to his sons about the trauma hes experienced, but not in a way of shutting them out, simply because it isnt their responsibility to know as they are teenagers. he tells them of the mutagen that created them, but not of his past with his master yoshi, who he calls father when by himself, but never around his sons which is just an interesting concept to think about.

(i do not intent this next sentence as ragging on the two shows after this when i say it, simply from a character standpoint) this is the splinter who completely doesnt make his problems his sons problems, but he also is very willing to tell them the truth when he knows they're ready. this is is the most idyllic version of splitner out of all of them, even when comparing to his mirage counterpart (who hes the most based on) due to that splinter raising them to be ninja specifically to make them fight shredder. this one is just their father who loves them and wants to keep them safe the best way he can, and he was never a human in the first place to even know how to be that. so this whole family dynamic starts with him, and the way he raised his sons reflects his parenting.

so, the setting and year this show is made is 2003. something very relatable here is how there isnt a lot of language for the personality quirks of the turtles. there's so much evidence here for mikey having adhd, his brothers will say things like "why doesnt mikey have to help?" and the answer is "well, he'd be bored. and whats worse, mikey not helping or mikey being bored?" its this beautiful moment of, "hey, we know its not fair, but thats how mikey is, and its better for everyone if we just respect that thats how he is" mikey cant keep his hands off stuff, they know this they dont yell at him for behaving that way, they just stop him. this coding feels the most specific, but like i said. its 2003. we dont have the words to describe what this is yet, and if we do its not common knowledge.

another example is in the classic episode where raphael meets casey jones. raphael is sparring with mikey, and he lashes out and nearly kills mikey. everyone reacts to this by getting him to stop, and no one is more upset than raphael himself. they all tell him to go get some air, which he does. theres no moment of any of them screaming at him for losing his temper, its very clear that they all know he's going to do that himself. and he does go get some air. they all know thats what he needs. he goes and meets casey jones, another hot head, and raph has to help coach this hot head on his anger. when he comes back at the end of the episode after having let out that aggression, he apologizes and no one is upset with him. there's a very clear understanding among his family that he cannot help it, but the best thing they can do is give him his space when he needs it. watching this from a 2023 perspective (20 years later) im sure we could analyze this as a few things going on with raph, my mind comes to autism but at the end of the day it doesnt matter why he behaves like this, the point is that he does and the best thing his family does is just...help him. which they do. and they never hold it against him.

when leo is going through his ptsd arc hes at his closest to raph as a character, the show draws a lot of parallels (like having him go let out some aggression with casey) and we get to see the dynamic in reverse. in "i, monster" (the rat king episode) leo is losing it, taking on rat king alone and not wanting to let up. raphael is actively holding his brothers back when they say "we shouldnt leave him to fight alone", raphael says "if leo gets in trouble i'm the first one in there, but right now it looks like leo's got more than one monster to work out of his system" raph doesn't exactly know what leos going through, but he recognizes it. he knows he needs to fight alone, so raph lets him. its only when the building collapses and leo is no longer in a safe position that he says "leo lets go", which leo wordlessly agrees with and actually listens.

this is what i think is the best part of these guys, the unconditional understanding they have for the way they are. we still have our "raphs a big hot head" "mikeys annoying" jokes, but they feel like genuine good natured sibling ribbing because they know each other on that level.

and to go back to the fact that this show is set in 2003, there's something so specific about the way mikey constantly makes references to liking women's clothing, to being fine with feminine language, and to being open about being the pretty turtle who "has that effect on minds of men" speaks to me as a queer person. this could easily be intended as homophobic jokes and probably is, because again.... its the mid 2000s, thats very much what media was like, thats what the jokes were. especially with the girly screams mikey does being one of the first jokes of this nature.

but theres something that happens in season 4, where an alien is attacking mikey, and donnie rushes in and says "hey, thats my sibling" that sticks out. and it happens again in fast forward. when talking to the dark turtles leo says "you and your brothers" "me and my siblings"

because of the way this family unit just understands each other without ever having a conversation about things, it feels like its not a joke. theres some kind of affirmation happening here. even if it seems like i could be reading into it too much, its specific! and it keeps happening!

and by the end of the show, when mikey says he wants to be maid of honour, even if that line in the media itself was intended to be a joke, no one in their family treats it like one. of course mikey is the maid of honour, he asked to be one! the only real offence taken is when april says bride's maid, to which he is offended because hes so much more important than that!

so from a story standpoint, this show doesnt have the intricate complexities and butting heads of latter iterations, there isnt much relationship growth to be had (in fact once we get to around season 5 the flanderization of the characters kind of begins and it loses some of the more complexities) but thats because its just not the focus of the story! the story is more about what they go through together, and thats fine! thats what our shows kind of were at the time. not saying there isnt any relationship growth, but its very much not the focus because these turtles? they already understand each other in a healthy way.

so to me, these guys are kind of the most wholesome family unit

#tmnt #tmnt 03 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt 2003 #2003 tmnt #can you tell im in my late 20s #lmao #this is why i did the silly st thing #cuz its relatable #thoughts

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astrecium · 4 months

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DATING HEADCANONS !

an wanderer x reader fluff !

no gender or pronoun said

warnings: none !

when you both started dating, the silence was pure awkward. you didn't know what to say and so did he.

but most of the time it was you the one who broke the silence, asking small things like how was his day and stuff like that.

he got slowly used to that, so everytime he got home he'd look for you and talk about his day, and talking(gossiping) about some people.

he'd say about how the teachers on akadimiya know nothing, and that even he himself would be a better teacher.

it was good to see him slowly opening up to you. very slowly.

I'd say his love language is acts of service.

when you go to work/anywhere he'd clean the house/cook, but bonk you when you come home.

"dont get used to this. and when you finish eating go wash the dishes."

you couldnt say much, he cleaned the whole house, you can at least do this for him.

he can't use words or affection to show that he loved you, so he helps you with anything. anything really. but he'd call you dumb after it.

nah, in the first days of the relationship yall would not sleep together. maybe in the same bed, but wouldn't face each other from shyness of both.

somehow, when you sleep he ends up getting a little closer, maybe even hugging you. but always make sure to wake up before you so you dont see it.

you two would only end up cuddling if you ask him for it. then you both would cuddle everyday, but you couldn't say anything about it if you want it to continue.

PDA is too new for him. i think the most he'd do would hold your finger in a crowded place.

unless if someone flirts with you, he'd hug you by behind, staring at the person with an big smirk on his face, or an deadly glare. maybe both.

randomly info dumps you. hear me out.

coming to you out of nowhere and start doing the biggest presentation you know.

then he'd leave. i swear.

if in a modern AU, he'd definitely make an music playlist that remembers him of you.

doodles you when he should be studying. in my head he is very good at drawing, but always make horrenduous drawings of you (when you are close, whenever you leave he'd do the most yummy drawing of you ever made.)

doesn't care if you are strong or weak, whenever he sees an hillichurl or whatever he goes boom boom!!! secretly wants to impress you. but shruggs it off saying you are too dumb to defend yourself.

when y'all dating for like, one year he'd be all used to you. randomly placing his head on your lap, neck, anything whenever he feels like it.

once you two had the smallest argument and he got real scared of you leaving him, so he bought you your favorite food, also shrugging it off with some mean comment.

never really means to hurt you, just cant bring himself to be an kind cheesy boy.

i can imagine you and nahida doing pigtails in his hair. sorry.

actually loves you, but on his own way.

my back hurts so much

the requests are open, send me asks pls

#wanderer x reader #genshin headcanons #wanderer #wanderer headcanons #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche headcanons #ⓘ MADE BY MECPENCIL ON TUMBLR

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bunnakit · 4 months

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last twilight ep 7 thoughts, feelings, etc

ALRIGHT i ran my errands, caught up on pit babe and playboyy to relax, and now i'm doing my speedwatch. i took some notes while watching the first time and they're a fucking MESS but hopefully they help me remember everything i want to comment on because without fail i always forget something.

you'll all be glad to know this week's meta bullshit from me is far, far less romantic and wistful than last weeks. you've all been spared by my adhd brain not being able to piece together a single poetic thought.

i kind of knew from this moment the trajectory the episode would take. Day is clearly nervous but not defensive - this isn't out of the realm of something Mhok would do for him but with recent context it probably feels fairly intimate. i think this was a really good indicator of what we're in for.

there's a collection of sunflowers in Day's room, tucked away in the corner, not unlike Mhok tucking away his feelings for Day's comfort. the poor things are shrouded in shadow, away from the light. the pain is unending and forever.

Day's flashback to the kiss has me curious. his eyes are closed so he's not even thinking back to seeing what he can of Mhok up close. as he reminisces about this kiss is he simply remembering the sensation of Mhok's lips on his own? how his hands curled into Mhok's jacket? and i'm sure we've all seen the post but - was he thinking of the way Mhok tasted like cigarettes? this isn't to romanticize his disability, i'm just genuinely wondering what exactly he's drawing on here in this moment, because it's clearly something significant to him.

Porjai just keeps getting prettier every episode and it's making me insane. i just think i should be allowed to take care of her.

"I'm jealous of Day's ability to make you smile."

this makes me think Mhok's smiles have been few and far between, and maybe Porjai has been looking to bring out that smile for a long time. does she ever worry that maybe someday Mhok could end up like Rung? does she worry about finding him too?

oh i so very badly want the context for this, i want to know everything. but also, it's really not that surprising. not when we've seen the things Mhok has done for Day. Mhok lives his life in extremes; anger, kindness, protectiveness, his work, etc. everything Mhok does he puts his whole self into it and it's nice to see his love is no different, because why would it be?

i'm once again in awe of what P'Aof has done with Mhok and Porjai, though. they live together so easily and naturally. there's nothing strange or awkward about it, just two people surviving life together. it's such a breath of fresh air.

Day just cannot catch a break when it comes to August. this has to hurt so fucking badly, the pity has to feel amplified by 1000. not only was August trying to force himself to like Day back because he's blind, but also because he was thinking of leaving. Day is a stronger man than me because i would be frothing at the mouth pissed.

but once again, Mhok doesn't let Day stew in his fish tank. he encourages him to go out and resolve his feelings, even if that means screaming at August and letting out all his hurt and frustration. he's seen what happens when Day lets his hurt fester and he won't let it happen again, not while he's around.

"He's a lot stronger than I thought. It's me who's so weak that I let him down."

as much as August pisses me off, i do think this is him realizing his pity was misplaced, and he failed Day in that way, so he gets some redemption points here. (still think he's a stinky bastard man tho)

the immediate distance Mhok puts between himself and the group never fails to hurt my heart. i get it, he's there for a job, but their relationship has progressed past that - now even moreso, and i cant help but wonder if this is his attempt at keeping a distance, curbing his expectations, reminding himself that while his role is to be by Day's side it's only in a professional capacity.

i love that Gee acknowledges him with a little head nod, occasionally looks in Mhok's direction as if to include him, she's just - ugh - i love all the women in this show so fucking much. i just wish someone would invite Mhok over sometime, encourage him to join the conversation (like they did back at the party.)

sometimes Mhok really is the embodiment of a shadow - both of Day and of his former self (for good or bad.)

(he looks so fucking sexy leaning like that with his shirt tucked into his pants tho, whew.)

Gee also becomes one of my favorite people for asking Day to take the photo of all of them. she just gets it, she includes him, she doesn't act like he can't do things, she even insists he can, she's just !!! the women of all time in this show i swear!!! I LOVE WOMEN!!!!

also the "you don't drink coffee, girl spill the tea" from Gee is just so good. she knows a diversion tactic when she sees one.

i want this expression framed, she's so cute, HELP.

i wish i had the time and energy today to make gifs for this week but ugh. the journey Mhok's face went on here to end up at quiet resignation. because he did figure. someone like Day? with someone like him? because we know Mhok's opinion of himself isn't great, largely influenced by his incarceration and reintegration into society, i'm sure, along with his guilt. but there had been that little bud of hope, a little sunflower seed that had bloomed just a little too far, reached for the sun a little too much. it must feel like a weed in his chest.

the way Day says 'here' so softly, with so much vulnerability made me feel like screaming. he doesn't know what his feelings are for Mhok yet (you can't tell me he doesn't feel anything) but he knows he doesn't want to lose Mhok and the sudden idea of it is terrifying. Mhok is the only person that really understands him, one of the only people he's comfortable around anymore, and he can't lose that. he doesn't want to go back to the dirty fish tank.

i also think this was an indicator to Mhok that maybe Day doesn't know how he feels, and maybe he can get away with flirting in tiny, subtle ways because from here on his secret flirting game is in full effect and it's so fucking cute. he's careful not to completely push past Day boundaries, but to test them in gentle ways.

THE SHOES MY BELOVEDS. we all know what i feel about these shoes after last week and i'm so glad to see all of my stupid babbling confirmed here. i love that Mhok constantly mends things instead of throwing them away. the sentimentality of items means something to Mhok and we love him for that.

we also got a proper 'sweet dreams' this episode, finally!! thank you subbers!

so many shots of feet this ep tho and lemme tell you as someone that HATES feet, this was rough.

oh you are so smitten. Day realizing Mhok is warm, warm in his own way, warm in such a gentle and understated way. UGH. you would've thought he knew after everything they've been through but sometimes people need a reminder and maybe something to drive them to pay closer attention. our boy is BESOTTED. kicking his feet and giggling. i think this is the happiest we've ever seen him.

so here's where i'm probably going to wax poetic the most. Mhok is finally opening up to Day in such an incredible way. he brings Day to his home with no fear of pity or judgement. he brings him into this sanctuary created by him, his sister, and Porjai and he cooks for him and cares for him and in letting him in Day sees even more how impossibly warm Mhok is.

what's even greater is there isn't a single moment where Day is jealous or questions Porjai being there. Mhok has told him she's expecting and he's never weird about it, just kind and understanding and it's all so normalized, it's fucking beautiful. Day even takes the time to encourage Porjai, to share about his mom, and about the strength it takes to be a single mom. P'Aof i adore you.

Mhok has planted jasmine simply because he knows Day likes it, and maybe now he likes it too. and he brings Last Twilight home to practice reading (i'd always wondered how he managed to read without stumbling over himself lmao) and he's done it so much that now Porjai wants to name their child Mee, wants to create this connection to Day forever.

and once prompted, once Day knows enough to ask, Mhok opens up about Rung, talks about her more. Day comments on the warmth of the house, something started by Rung and cultivated by Mhok. it would be so easy for the house to feel cold and clinical, especially knowing what happened here, but Mhok has kept it a home - warm, inviting, comforting - all the things Mhok has been to Day.

the noises took me by fuckin' surprise tho, i genuinely looked around my house like who the fuck is making all that noise and then i was like OH THOSE ARE-- OKAY--

and I know people are like haha P'Aof has a scent kink but like. idk. maybe it's just me but scents are something i'm drawn to. i remember the way someone smelled more than i remember their face. i recently took a shirt out of my closet and immediately started crying. it smelled like face powder and perfume. it smelled like my grandma. the leather jacket pushed to the side smells like cigarettes and horses, like my dad always did.

scent is such an ingrained memory, something that is so hard for our brains to let go of. every time i get a familiar smell it knocks me on my ass, and i'm so glad to see some of this represented in these shows.

this absolutely warmed my heart. whatever is going on with Night and Day is clearly more on Day's side than anything else. Night clearly loves his brother and i'm just fucking DYING to know what is going on that is causing Day to drive a wedge between them. sure, Night hasn't been perfect, but there's love there and that counts for so much.

and what exactly are you doing here??? this is a charity run for blindness - does he know someone that is blind other than Day? did meeting Day inspire him to participate? has he spent time talking to Mhok about Day and maybe the difficulties of his blindness? i am filled with questions but i love this character so much, he's just so kind.

Day's hesitation to cross the finish line was also something i found so interesting. it felt long, possibly too drawn out, but Day needed to think, needed time to understand that if he crosses that finish line, if he accepts Mhok's request to be his boyfriend, their lives will never go back to how they were. things between them will change forever, whether the relationship is a success or otherwise. it's an incredibly mature thing of Day to do, even if it felt a little lengthy for us, the audience.

i strongly believe that in addition to Mhok Porjai is going to be a big driving force in Night and Day's reconciliation. i would love to see Porjai gain Night's side of the story, Mhok gain Day's side of the story, and the two of them working together to see how they can reunite these brothers.

also if i had a nickle for every time P'Aof paired Mark with a pregnant woman in his shows i'd have two nickles, which isn't a lot but it's interesting it has happened twice.

while i, like everyone else, hope the mock proposal is a parallel we get to see later i want to focus more on this moment.

i forget who said it, it's long gone to the depths of my dash by now, but someone commented that disabilities do not stop for love, and fuck is that so true. i love Mhok's concern, his immediate reaction to soothe, and the way he seems to feel Day's fear as his own. and poor Day, he can't even enjoy this moment of bliss with Mhok because of course, of course something like this had to happen. it's so fucking real in the way Last Twilight has been this entire time.

the constant excellent representation of disabled living has been incredible to see, i've seen so much of myself in this show (even though my disability is so very different) and it's been like a warm blanket put over very single comment: you're too young to be disabled, you aren't THAT disabled, you're being dramatic, etc.

from the bottom of my heart, thank you P'Aof and team.

tag loves: @benkaaoi @callipigio @infinitelyprecious (as always tell me if you want to be added {for LT only or all meta} or removed!)

#bunn meta #last twilight #last twilight the series #mhokday #morkday #userjamiec #im soooo fuckin sleepy after making this but i still have to work #someone come make me tea and gimme a little kith

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loveywon · 1 year

Text

♡𓂃 BREAK MY HEART AGAIN !

part 2 here!

pairing: jungwon x (gn) reader x niki

wc: 3.3k+

synopsis: you cant help but let jungwon break your heart. again. (inspired by let you break my heart again by laufey!)

warnings: ANGST, high school au, cursing i think i cant remember, sullyoon (nmixx) mentioned, not proofread, ANGST AGAIN BIG WARNING SRSLY, niki loves reader so bad, jungwon is kinda mean but not intentionally, reader needs to open their eyes srsly

a/n: everyone say thank u laufey for putting out one of the best songs ever!!! also this fic did NOT turn out the way i planned it.. niki wasnt even supposed to be in here😭 and the ending was also not planned PLS

“I’m sorry, Y/n, I can’t date you right now…” Jungwon says awkwardly, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck as he avoids eye contact with you. You should have expected this, really. The evidence was all right in front of you, but you chose to ignore it.

“That’s fine! I know that you can’t…I just wanted to let you know,” you smiled up at him, despite his avoidant eyes. Jungwon nods at you, his kind and soft eyes meeting yours. He knows you, and he knows that your smile doesn’t reach your eyes like they normally do whenever he would crack a lame joke or when he would do something affectionate towards you.

His lips curve into a slight smile, although the corner of his eyes don’t crinkle up. “Maybe in a few years, yeah? We’ll still be friends, Y/n. I could never leave you.” He promises, he promised. So why, three years later, you’re standing in the hallway while you see Jungwon mess with some girl’s hair that’s not your own?

Niki jogs up to you, not reading the full situation since he arrived at school late (again). “Y/n! Did you see the fight out..side…” his eyes follow where your own are staring at, and he frowns. He doesn’t say anything, but instead he decides to direct your attention to something else. “Y/n! We’re gonna be late to history, c’mon!” He ushers, though he could care less about being late to history.

You met Niki a year after Jungwon rejected you, and you immediately introduced him to your friend group after. You never told him about your feelings for Jungwon, although you didn’t need to. Niki knew – after all, it was quite obvious with the way you swooned and giggled whenever Jungwon would do literally anything.

Niki tugs on your arm like a little kid until you get annoyed, finally tearing your gaze away from Jungwon and the other girl talking. He smiles at you, but you don’t return it. You keep your head down, walking side by side with your friend as you look over your shoulder, still wishing that it was you with Jungwon instead of her.

You weren’t the one three years ago, and you’re not the one now.

Your hands ball into a fist after you were too far down the hall to see Jungwon clearly, and Niki is still rambling about something mindlessly while you’re buried in your own thoughts. You almost bump into another student and Niki has to drag your arm closer to him so you don’t crash into someone.

“Y/n,” he whines out in a drag, wanting you to pay attention to him. You reply with a hum, not in the mood to say much after seeing Jungwon with someone else that isn’t you.

The frown finds its way back onto his features, swinging your arm with his hand that’s gripped onto your forearm. “Wanna come over tonight? My mom let me buy this new game after saving up and I wanna show you!” He replaces the frown with a smile when you finally look at him. You give him a slight grin which makes him beam, but your following words cause his eyes to drop.

“I can’t, me and Jungwon are studying for bio tonight at my place. Maybe tomorrow? And we can go to that cafe you wanted to bring me last week too,” you offer with a tilt of your head.

It’s always like this. It’s always Jungwon first to you. At this point, Niki’s used to it and he almost expects you to hang out with him the next day. He supposes that next time, he’ll just have to ask you earlier before Jungwon does.

Niki nods, giving a smaller smile this time before the both of you walk into your class.

“Jungwon, hey!” You wave excitedly down the hall where Jungwon awaits by his locker for you. He leans off his locker, his head looking up from his phone as he spots you. He waves back at you, a smile gracing his features. Niki is following close behind you, but he’s too busy on his phone and doesn’t give Jungwon a form of greeting before he’s actually face to face with him.

“Okay, I’m gonna go, see you tomorrow, Y/n,” Niki says goodbye to you and gives Jungwon a nod before leaving.

“Ready to spend five hours reading a textbook?” You try to joke, nudging Jungwon lightly with your elbow, but instead of giving a lighthearted laugh and returning your joke, he’s glancing at his phone and smiles down at the screen.

You look away, your bottom lip in between your teeth. This was so awkward. After Jungwon rejected you, he actually never did get with anyone else, but he has been talking to a few people here and there throughout your high school career, so you were used to this routine. But he’s never smiled at a text before.

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” Jungwon asked after putting his phone in his back pocket. You know he doesn’t do this on purpose – there is no mean bone in Jungwon for him to ever do something like this to purposely and intentionally hurt you. It’s one of the many reasons why you love him, you suppose.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumble as you look away, the two of you walking down the sidewalk. You don’t notice this, but you always have to match his pace to walk side by side as his legs naturally walk fast because of his busy schedule, being in multiple sports and clubs. “Are you prepared for this week’s test?”

“What? We have a test this week?!” Jungwon panics, almost halting in his steps to look at you as you struggle to catch up with him. “Yeah! It’s on Friday…it’s literally in three days. You didn’t know?” You ask. This is the first. Normally Jungwon is the one to remind you of a test in your one shared class together.

“Shit,” he curses, running a hand through his hair. You two continue walking to your house and you laugh a little to ease up his sudden stressed mood. “It’s okay! That’s why we’re studying today, right? I’ll help you,” you smile, giving him a reassuring thumbs up, “but this is the first time you don’t know of a test, are you feeling okay?” You chuckle in a joking manner, turning the lock on the door and letting him enter first inside your home.

“Yeah…guess I got distracted,” he muttered. He makes his way straight to your room, knowing where it is as he’s been over more than enough times. You follow behind him, closing your door as you drop your backpack onto the floor.

“Distracted? From what?” You expect his answer to be something like ‘Oh, just sports’, so his answer knocks the wind out of you.

“I’m planning to ask out Sullyoon…” he trails off, not wanting to meet your eyes. He didn’t want to hide anything from you, you were his best friend! But when he takes a slight peek at you, and notices that your jaw is agape and your eyes no longer twinkling like they normally do whenever you look at him, why does he feel guilty? Was that even the right word to describe the ache in his heart when he sees your smile falter, eyes gazing down at your hands? Look at me, please, he thinks to himself, but he’s not sure if he really wants to see your sad eyes look at him like he was the worst thing that has ever happened to you.

You think, in a way, he is. But you know yourself well enough to know that you’d let Jungwon in your heart no matter how many times he breaks it.

He wants to change the subject, maybe back to biology because he actually wants to get a good score, but his first priority will always be you, and he doesn’t want to belittle your feelings just because of a silly little test grade that will barely affect his overall percentage, anyway.

“Is…is that okay?” He asks after some silence, unsure on how to approach this. You blink, eyes still staring at the ground, but you quickly look at him after he speaks.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” You say, which catches him off-guard. “Jungwon…you can date whoever you want. Why are you asking me as if you’re asking permission or something,” you laugh it off, but you feel like you’re really more fighting your inner demons rather than seeing it as no big deal.

You’re too nice, Jungwon thinks. He doesn’t deserve you, he really doesn’t. A smile appears on his face, dimples and all showing on his cheeks. “Really?” He says excitedly, and it hurts you even more to see that he’s so excited to ask out Sullyoon. “So, you’ll help me ask her out? Cause I don’t really know what to do, honestly.” He asks, and you feel like you’ve been stabbed in the heart a million times.

You can’t say no. Not to Jungwon. And you hate him for that.

“Sure.” You smile.

The following day, you keep your promise to Niki and go to the café he wanted to show you and to see his new game. Although your mood is obviously deflated after last night’s study session with Jungwon, Niki decides to make it his life mission to make you smile and laugh.

“Oh my gosh, this strawberry croissant looks so good,” you gasp, bending down slightly as you look through the clear glass that showcases many different pastries.

“I know! When I came here a few weeks ago, I knew you would like it. We can get it and share, if you want!” Niki offers, giving a smile as you point and admire every pastry.

“Really??” You look up at him, toothy smile and all, and he nods in response. He pays, because he would buy the moon for you if it meant seeing you smile. He thinks Jungwon wouldn’t do the same for you.

You two enjoy the pastry, giggling about whatever happened at school that day or complaining about the overwhelming amount of homework your teachers assigned before walking to his home to check out his game.

Niki thinks he successfully distracted you from whatever was bugging you since last night (he already has a hunch that it’s because of Jungwon), but you’re walking slower than you usually do and your head is slightly lowered. It’s probably not obvious to others that you’re in a sour mood, but it’s definitely obvious to Niki.

“Y/n,” he starts, but you cut him off before he says anything else.

“Jungwon wants to ask Sullyoon out,” you blurt, looking up at him with your bottom lip jutted out like you’re about to cry, and you feel like you are. Niki thinks he’s never felt his emotions affected by someone before.

“Oh,” is all he says, because what exactly can he say? He’s mad, yes. He’s mad at Jungwon, because he can’t seem to understand why Jungwon would ever choose anyone over you.

“And I’m helping him by asking her,” you breathe out, like it's the hardest thing you’ve ever said in your entire life. Scratch that — confessing to Jungwon was the hardest thing.

“Oh.” Niki’s not good at comforting, but he wants to, so bad, for you, he would learn every language in the world.

“He’s never…Jungwon’s never liked someone enough to ask them out. But I—“ your voice breaks and Niki swears a part of him breaks as well. You guys finally reach his house, and he gestures for you to enter first with a tilt of his head. You enter, walking straight to his room because you know his house like the back of his hand.

You then realize; Jungwon’s always over at yours, but you’ve been in his house once and it was only to drop off homework from when he was feeling sick and you didn’t even go in. You have no idea what his house looks like, but you know every knick knack about Niki’s.

As you two enter his room, he sits on the edge of his bed and pats the spot next to him. He may not be good at words, but he can offer a comforting shoulder. You give a slight, but weak, smile in appreciation and you sit next to him and instantly lean your head on his shoulder like it’s nature.

This isn’t the first time, and Niki knows this won’t be the last time that you use him as comfort whenever Jungwon talks to someone new. He’s okay with that. He’ll wait for you like you wait for Jungwon.

“Niki,” you say his name for the first time the entire day. You’re not crying, you already wasted enough tears on Jungwon.

“Hm?” Niki hums, his fingers playing with your own, and it’s a little too intimate for Niki’s usual liking, but he’s willing to step out of his boundaries for you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and even though you don’t clarify what you’re thanking him for, Niki knows. He knows that you’re thanking him for being with you for two years, pining after Jungwon and using Niki as a shoulder to cry on.

His eyes droop down, and he’s upset that he met you. He’s upset he met you in this universe, where you’re hung up on your crush on Jungwon, and not another where you two can live happily ever after, without Jungwon plaguing your mind.

Niki vividly remembers the time you two met. It was in ceramics class, and you were there because you genuinely liked pottery and he was there because he just had to fulfill his visual arts credit. He struggled on the wheel, the clay always never staying up because he made it too thin every time. You noticed him struggling after observing for a week straight, and decided to finally lend a helping hand.

After that, he followed you around school and walked with you to your classes (with Jungwon, of course, he’s always with you), and now you’re just used to his presence and he’s used to yours. What started off as a mere friendship, he’s now attached to you, despite knowing that you will never see him the same way you see Jungwon.

A week later after helping Jungwon with a plan to ask Sullyoon out, it was unfolding right in front of you. With Jungwon’s back facing you, and seeing Sullyoon’s face beam with light when Jungwon asked her if she wanted to be his girlfriend, you visibly cringe.

You just didn’t understand. What did she have that you didn’t, and why did Jungwon want her, and not you, who has been by his side ever since fifth grade? It’s been three years since you’ve confessed – you thought you’d get over it by now, but seeing them hug affectionately in front of you, made your eyes drop to the ground, hands balled up into a fist as you fight against any bitter emotions bubbling in your chest.

You don’t notice that Niki is watching from afar. He had just gotten out of detention, and didn’t expect to see you in the school halls an hour after school had ended. He almost got excited, perhaps you were waiting for him to get out of detention so you could go to the cafe together again, or maybe you wanted to see his video game that you didn’t see last week!

But then, he sees Jungwon and Sullyoon hugging and your still figure watching them. He frowns deeply. Why do you still stick around? He supposes he should know the answer. He sticks around for you, so there’s no difference between you and him, really.

You turn on your heel and leave the school, not saying goodbye to Jungwon or Sullyoon. You think if you see Jungwon turning to you with a bright smile that you know is not from you, you’ll start crying.

Niki follows behind silently, not wanting Jungwon to notice him as he follows you out of the school. He catches up to you, despite your rushed pace because you want to get far away from where the love of your life and his now girlfriend is.

“Y/n! Hey…” He says, jogging up to you and matching your pace when he’s side by side with you.

You looked up at him, shocked. You forgot he had detention, so he must’ve gotten out right when Jungwon had asked Sullyoon out. You turn away, hair falling forward to cover your eyes. “Hi.”

He frowns again. “You want my shoulder?” He offers.

You smile slightly, it’s such a weak smile, and Niki knows that, but he appreciates your efforts. “If that’s okay with you.”

You find yourself in your living room with Niki, head buried into his shoulder as you cry, because you just can’t wrap your head around the fact that Jungwon said he’d date you in a few years. He promised! He never broke promises. He promised in fifth grade when you two met that he’d never leave your side and that you’d always be first to him. You suppose he broke two promises now.

Niki’s softly playing with your hair, not looking at you. He can’t look at you in this state, because when you cry, he wants to cry too. He wishes you could see that he’s been here, and maybe not as long as Jungwon, but he thinks that he knows you more than Jungwon does.

You know that you’ll let Jungwon break your heart again.

You think that one day, you’ll find someone who will like you like you like Jungwon.

Niki thinks that one day, you’ll realize that he sees you more than a friend and a shoulder to cry on.

Someday, one day, you’ll let Jungwon stop breaking your heart, but Niki knows that he’ll follow closely behind you, picking up every small piece and treasure it like his life depends on it.

You end up falling asleep on Niki’s shoulder after crying on it for what feels like hours. Niki knows his shirt is slightly damp, but he doesn’t mind. You’re softly snoring, your body leaned against him. He knows you must’ve been exhausted. He knows you helped Jungwon the best you could, despite the fact that you’re hopelessly in love with him, and he hates that you did that, but he also loves you for it.

Jungwon is excitedly opening your front door, because he knows he’s welcomed into your home any time he pleases, but as he’s going towards your room, he finds Niki on your couch. He’s confused, but he doesn’t question until he spots pieces of your hair from over the couch.

Niki doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to wake you, but he looks at Jungwon with a pointed expression, and Jungwon knows immediately what Niki was trying to express. He frowns, not at Niki, but at himself. He didn’t realize that he affected you this much, he had a feeling that you didn’t move on from him but he also didn’t think that you were still this caught up on him.

He feels terrible, he feels like absolute shit, because he also realizes that he broke two of his promises. Then, something else swirls in his gut as you shift in your sleep, head burying into Niki’s neck. He doesn’t understand this feeling, and a part of him doesn’t want to.

He’s with Sullyoon now, isn’t he? So why, is he standing in the middle of your home, with jealousy stirring in his chest?

part 2 is here!

taglist!: @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs

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