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urbrunettebombshell · 2 days ago

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NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE - Part 2

Part 1

Rafe Cameron x FemReader

Summary: After a gut wrenching realization, Rafe Cameron has nothing left to lose, only reader.

Warnings: 18+, jealousy, angst, mental health issues, suicidal themes, mention of eating disorder.

Important info: this is my second writing piece. still extremely personal. also english is not my first language. hope you enjoy it :) (not my gif!)

P.S.: the idea of writing this came from a character.ai bot (_nietakt on the app). not a single word in this was written by a bot! i took the initial idea of reader seeing Rafe and another girl at a bonfire. let me know if you have a problem with that.

Rafe hadn’t slept a single wink. He'd been too worried about her, her skin so cold when he'd carried her out of the water. Now, watching her sleep in his bed, a sense of relief washed over him. She was safe, at least for now.

He stood by the door, arms wrapped tightly around himself, silently watching her as she slept. The faint light of the morning sun seeped through the curtains, gently illuminating her face, but it only seemed to deepen the emptiness in the room. He remained there, motionless, as if afraid to disturb the fragile stillness of the moment. His gaze lingered on her, tracing the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, a rhythm that felt so distant, so foreign to him now. The quiet hum of the world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the weight of the quiet room. The sunlight, soft and pale, seemed to mock the darkness that had taken root in his heart.

Despite that, her body throbbed with a slow, unbearable ache. Her heart and lungs felt too heavy to bear; her head pounded as if she had collided with concrete. Every breath felt like a struggle, each minor movement a battle against the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her. The world around her seemed muffled, distant, as if she were trapped in a fog that wouldn’t lift, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape the relentless ache.

But the soft mattress was comforting. The familiar scent of the sheets, the faint trace of him, wrapped around her like a fragile embrace, offering a fleeting sense of peace. The warmth of the room, the quiet hum of the world outside, felt so much like home, even though home had long ago become a place she didn’t recognize.

She opened her eyes to find him standing there, unmoving, his gaze fixed on her with a quiet intensity. He was leaning against the doorframe, dressed in sweats, but there was something in the way he held himself that told her he hadn’t slept. Not a single ounce of rest had touched him. She didn’t speak. The silence between them felt suffocating, as if any word spoken could shatter the fragile stillness that had settled in the room. She was scared — scared of what might come next, of what that look in his eyes might mean.

Rafe's breath caught in his throat as her eyes fluttered open. He'd been standing there for what felt like hours, watching the rise and fall of her chest, making sure she was okay. He pushed off from the doorframe and approached the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge of it. His eyes remained fixated on her, his expression a mixture of relief and concern.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “How are you feeling?”

When he sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress sank slightly under his weight and her heart clenched in fear. A mix of longing and dread twisted inside her. She wanted him closer, desperately so, but she knew deep down that if he didn’t keep his distance, she would never be able to move on. She could never heal if he was too near.

She had always been weak when it came to him, her resolve crumbling the moment he was within arm’s reach. She folded so fast, every guard she built collapsing, every promise to herself shattering in the blink of an eye. The pull between them was magnetic, and no matter how many times she tried to push it away, it always found its way back, leaving her lost in the wreckage of her emotions.

“Weird,” she answered him in a whisper. She was feeling every little emotion yet nothing at all. Maybe she was just waiting for her heart to be broken again.

Rafe chuckled softly at her reply, his eyes never leaving her face. He shifted closer, reaching out and brushed a loose strand of hair away from her forehead, his touch tentative yet tender.

“Yeah, I imagined you would feel pretty weird after last night,” he said, his voice quiet. He paused, his expression turning serious as he spoke. “You had me pretty worried, you know that?”

That chuckle was the death of her. It echoed in her chest, a sound that stirred something deep inside, something she had buried long ago. And when his finger brushed against her forehead, she couldn’t help but let out a soft, shaky sigh. Any crumb of attention from him felt like heaven on earth, like she could finally breathe again after holding her breath for so long.

“I didn’t…” she started saying, her voice barely above a whisper, but his serious expression stopped her mid-sentence, the weight of it pressing down like a stone. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but her emotions felt like they were on the edge of breaking. Her eyebrows furrowed, the tension growing inside. “I’m sorry,” she said, the words tasting bitter on her tongue, even though she didn’t fully understand what she was apologizing for. Maybe it was just the silence between them, or the way things had always been — broken, but never enough to end.

Rafe shook his head, his hand still resting gently against her face. “No, don’t apologize. You don’t need to apologize,” he paused, his eyes searching her face, taking in every detail. He wanted to memorize every little nuance, every little mark, every fleck of color in her eyes, as if each detail was a piece of something precious, something he could never forget. The way her lashes fluttered when she blinked, the faint shadows beneath her eyes, the glimmer that flickered when her emotions shifted — it was all so much a part of her, yet so easily lost in the passing of time.

He leaned in slightly, as if trying to capture it all, the very essence of who she was, holding onto the way she looked in this moment. He was afraid that once it slipped away, it would be gone forever, that the memory would fade like a dream upon waking. Every slight movement, every breath she took, felt sacred to him, as if he was witnessing something fragile and irreplaceable. “Just…don’t scare me like that again,” his voice was firm but not harsh, filled with a mix of concern and a hint of scolding.

She allowed herself to take a long, unhurried look at all his features, every single detail she had memorized and loved so deeply. The curve of his jaw, the softness of his lips, the way his cerulean eyes held a quiet intensity even when he wasn’t speaking — each part of him felt familiar, yet it all made her heart ache in ways she couldn’t explain.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, filled with frustration, as the thought of losing him all over again gnawed at her insides. It was a fear she couldn’t escape, no matter how hard she tried to push it away. The thought of the distance between them growing again, of things unraveling like they always did, was almost too much to bear. She could feel the tears threatening to rise, but she held them back, desperate to keep some semblance of control, even though everything inside her was breaking.

She wanted to apologize for being a burden last night, for all the things she couldn’t say or control, for the way she had let her emotions spill over, overwhelming them both. She wanted to tell him that he wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore, that she would find a way to step back, to let him go without dragging him deeper into her mess. She longed to say that he was free of her, that if he truly wanted to be, he didn’t have to stay. He could walk away and never look back. She would find a way to erase him from her heart, even if it felt impossible, even if every part of her screamed to hold on.

But the words stuck in her throat, heavy and suffocating. She couldn’t bring herself to say them. The fear of losing him, of pushing him away for good, paralyzed her. How could she let him go when he was all she had ever known? How could she let him walk away when she knew deep down she was nothing without him?

Rafe noticed the conflict in her eyes, the way she averted her gaze from his, and he could practically hear the thoughts racing through that mind of hers. He knew her like the back of his hand, and he knew what she was thinking. He reached out and gently cupped her cheek in his palm, drawing her focus back to him.

“Don’t start shutting me out again,” his voice was firm yet pleading. “Not after last night.”

Her body trembled when his palm cupped her cheek, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her, forcing her to look him in the eye. He was so close once again, the space between them shrinking until it felt like the world outside had disappeared. But even with his face so near, it still wasn’t enough. The ache in her chest deepened, a longing that couldn’t be satisfied by just proximity, no matter how much she craved it.

And as she stared into his eyes, she wasn’t sure if it was entirely possible for them to ever exist again, to find that place where they could be what they once were. The fractures between them felt too deep, the silence too heavy, as if too much time had passed, too much damage had been done. The fear crept in, a gnawing thought that perhaps this was as close as they could get anymore — the edges of what they had, but never quite whole again.

“I never shut you down,” she scolded him, her voice sharper than she had meant, the words cutting through the silence more forcefully than she anticipated. She immediately regretted the tone, her chest tightening with the weight of it. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, her fingers trembling slightly as she held back the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

“You left,” she continued, her voice quieter now, but still thick with hurt. “I just did what I could to cope with it.” The words tasted bitter as they left her lips, the truth of them stinging as she realized how much she had buried, how much she had tried to suppress. She had told herself it was fine, that she was fine, but the emptiness of those days without him had left scars she could never erase. She wanted him to understand, but part of her feared that even if he did, it might be too late for them to ever find their way back.

Rafe’s jaw clenches at her words, a pang of guilt stabbing through him as she reminds him of the fact he’d left. It was a truth he was all too aware of, one that haunted him every single day. “You think I don’t know that?” He asks, his voice strained. “You think I didn’t know how much I was hurting you when I left?” He lets out a shaky breath, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. “I hated every goddamn minute of being away from you.”

She shut her eyes, squeezing them tightly to keep the tears from falling. It was hurting all over again, a familiar ache that twisted deep inside her, pulling at every fragile piece of her heart. She knew how hard it had been for him after losing his father, how he had struggled, how he had tried to carry the weight of it alone. She understood the pain, the grief that consumed him, and the way he had pushed everyone away, convinced that he was better off alone.

She knew he wasn’t doing well, that he was drowning in his own sorrow, afraid of pulling her down with him. But leaving her had been worse than all of that. The absence of him had left a void she couldn’t fill, and no matter how many times she tried to convince herself she would be okay, she wasn’t. His departure had fractured something inside her, something that hadn’t healed, something that no amount of time or distance could ever fix. It wasn’t just the leaving that hurt. It was the way he had cut himself off, the way he had silently decided that it was better to walk away than to let her in, even when she had been there, waiting for him to reach back. It was the feeling of being abandoned, not because he didn’t love her, but because he was convinced that loving her was too dangerous, too painful.

“Can we not?” She pleaded in a heartbeat. She couldn’t argue about that again, it was too much for her to handle.

Rafe’s heart felt like it was being torn out of his chest as he listened to the plea in her voice. The raw vulnerability there cut through him like a blade, each word a reminder of the damage he had caused, the silence he had let linger between them. He didn’t want to hurt her more; that was the last thing he ever wanted. The guilt that had been gnawing at him for so long twisted deeper, but he knew that ignoring it, pretending everything could go back to how it was, would only make it worse.

He drew in a slow, shaky breath, trying to steady himself, his hand still resting on her cheek, the warmth of her skin grounding him. He could feel her breath against him, the tension in her body, and it broke him to know that his actions had brought her to this point.

“No,” he said quietly, his voice firm but not harsh, careful not to let the pain in his chest spill over into his words. “We can’t just not talk about it.” His gaze softened slightly, his eyes searching her face, reading the fear, the sadness that she wore like a veil. He wanted to pull her close, to promise her everything would be okay, but he knew the truth: that wouldn’t fix this. The silence, the unspoken things between them — they needed to be confronted.

She bit her lower lip, trying to hold back the words that were threatening to spill out. She knew he wouldn’t like it if they talked about it, knew it would only make things worse. Hell, he would hate hearing her talk about it. The thought of confronting the truth — the things left unsaid, the hurt buried beneath his silence — made her stomach churn. He never liked being held accountable for his behavior, never liked facing the consequences of his actions. It was easier for him to retreat, to close off, to pretend like it never happened.

But she wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend, how much longer she could stay silent while everything between them crumbled. She had to say it. She had to make him see what he was doing to them, even if it meant pushing him further away. The weight of his avoidance was crushing her, and she knew if she didn’t speak now, she might never get the chance again.

“We will end up fighting,” she told him in a shaky tone, her fingers tracing his hand on her skin. “I’m not sure if I can keep fighting you.”

Rafe’s expression softened as she spoke, the touch of her fingers against his skin sending a jolt through him. He knew she was right — any mention of the topic would inevitably lead to a fight. But he couldn’t let this linger any longer.

“Maybe we need to fight,"” he took a deep breath, his voice slightly shaky. “Maybe if we actually talked about this, really talked about it, we could get some goddamn closure for once.”

That damn word set her off like a switch had been flipped, her mind spiraling into chaos. Closure? Fuck him. How could he even ask for that? She wanted to be respected, to feel like she mattered, and instead, he had fucked her over in the worst possible way. Every part of her burned with anger, the weight of betrayal sinking deep into her bones. She couldn’t believe she was hearing that — closure. After everything he’d done, after the silence, after the lies, after the countless ways he had turned away when she needed him most, he was asking for closure? The audacity of it made her blood boil, the sting of every painful memory rushing back with the force of a tidal wave. He had taken so much from her, and now he was trying to act like he was the one who needed answers?

It felt like a slap in the face, the one thing she never thought she would hear from him. The one thing that made all of the pain, all the sacrifice, all the love she had given feel like it had meant nothing.

“You want closure?” She asks in a scoff as she sits up in the bed, her knees shaking against her chest as she holds herself close. “I’ll give you closure.”

She was so vulnerable that anything could set her off. Her emotions were all over the place and all mixed up.

“You were a bad person, Rafe, but I kept up with your bullshit,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she had held back for so long. “I loved you like no one else did, and you did me dirty.” The words cut through the silence, sharp and bitter, and he could almost see them flowing from her soft lips, each syllable laced with the pain he had caused. “You left when things got too much for you,” she continued, her eyes burning with a mix of sorrow and rage. “You left me in pieces, alone to deal with everything. And you had the nerve to show up with someone else just a few weeks later, leaving me like I never mattered.”

Her words hung in the air, and he felt the weight of them press down on his chest, suffocating him. He had known what she was feeling, had known deep down that she was hurting, but hearing it laid out like this — raw, unfiltered — was a slap to his face. There was nothing he could say to make it right, no apology that would undo the damage. The guilt settled over him like a heavy fog, his own shame swallowing him whole. She was right. He had left her, abandoned her when she needed him the most, and now she was sitting there, her heart torn open, and he had no excuse.

Rafe’s eyes widened in disbelief as the words left her mouth, each one like a dagger to his heart. He had been bracing for a fight, but hearing she lay it all out like that was like a punch to the gut.

“You think I don’t know all of that?” He asks, his voice tight with anger and frustration. “You think I haven’t been beating myself up for it every damn day?” He runs a hand through his head, his expression a mix of frustration and pain. “You think I wanted to leave you?”

Her eyes were glued to his every movement, searching for something that could make sense of the chaos between them. She was burning in anguish, her heart twisting with every word he spoke, every shift in his posture. The anger and hurt churned inside her like a storm she couldn’t escape.

She wanted to know why everything always ended with screaming, why their relationship always seemed to spiral into nothing but pain and conflict. Why couldn’t they ever find a way to just be? Why couldn’t they hold on to the moments when things felt good, when love was enough?

The question clawed at her mind, relentless. Why didn’t he just leave her to drown? She had been struggling for so long, feeling like she was sinking deeper into despair, yet he always seemed to linger, pulling her up just enough to keep her gasping for breath — just enough to remind her how much she needed him, even when he was the cause of the drowning.

“I know nothing about what you want,” she scoffed harshly, spitting venom out of her tongue. “I just know that you did leave me. And it hurts like hell.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches, the venom in her words cutting him deep. He knew he deserved every bit of it, but it still hurt.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” he said firmly, his voice strained. “I never wanted to leave you, goddamnit. I just thought-“ He cuts himself off, his eyes drifting to the floor. He didn’t want to admit the truth out loud.

Her eyebrows furrowed at his unfinished words. Her heart skipped a beat. She knew it had more to it than what he was saying. She just thought he would never tell her.

“You just thought what?” She asks him.

Rafe takes a deep breath, his eyes still locked on the ground. He knows this is going to be the hardest part of this conversation.

“I thought you’d be better off if I left you.” The confession feels like acid on his tongue, but he forces himself to keep going. “I was such a mess after my father died, and I didn’t want to drag you down with me. I thought you’d be better off without me.”

The silence that followed the confession was heavy on them. It seemed like hours of them just staring into each other's eyes and breathing heavily. She could see the sorrow in him. She also could see her Rafe.

“You’ve always been an idiot.” She says in a chuckling whisper. What a dumb man. He left to save her and all he did was damn her.

Rafe couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle at her unexpected reply. He had expected anger, tears, anything other than that. But that was just like her – throwing him off guard, making him feel things he thought he couldn't anymore.

He finally looked up to meet her eyes, his expression a mix of resignation and a hint of a smile. “Yeah, I’ve always been a goddamn idiot. Especially when it comes to you.”

She knew she should not have opened her heart to this again. She had promised herself she wouldn’t — promised herself she was stronger than this, that she wouldn’t let him pull her back in. But here she was, standing on the edge of the same cliff, her heart a fragile thing in her chest, ready to leap despite every warning. She knew her friends would kill her if they ever knew what she was doing right now, how she was willing to risk it all for someone who had torn her apart before.

She had been through hell since their split, enduring the long, lonely nights and the endless questions, trying to piece herself back together from the wreckage he left behind. And now, she was dancing willingly in the flames with the devil, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, knowing the pain would come again but unable to stop herself from reaching for it.

“I miss you,” she whispered, her voice trembling, barely a breath escaping her lips. Her hands shook as they hovered in the space between them, unsure whether to touch him or pull away, torn between the longing and the fear. She wanted them to make up, wanted to believe that there was still something worth saving, something that could be fixed. Yet she was so scared — scared of the same heartbreak, the same crushing emptiness that had followed in the wake of his leaving. But in this moment, her desire for him, for reconciliation, outweighed the terror that had kept her apart from him for so long.

Time seemed to stand still as the words left her trembling lips.

‘I miss you’.

Those words hit Rafe like a ton of bricks, their weight crashing down on him with such force it left him breathless. It was all he had wanted to hear from her for months, the words he had desperately wished for, even though he had never been brave enough to say them first. He had longed for those three words, ached for them with every fiber of his being, knowing that he had pushed her away and ruined what they once had. But hearing them now, soft and fragile, pulled him back to a place he thought he’d lost forever.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of her confession settle in, steadying himself as the emotion threatened to overwhelm him. When he opened them again, his gaze found hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a flicker of something real — something unbroken — in his eyes. His expression was a mix of pain and hope, the raw truth of their past hanging between them like an open wound, but there was a glimmer of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time: possibility.

“I miss you too, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with emotion, the words escaping him with a vulnerability he wasn’t sure he was ready for. But it didn’t matter anymore. The distance, the hurt — it all felt irrelevant now. He was here. She was here. And for this one moment, that was enough.

She can’t help but flinch when he calls her baby again. It was a warm welcoming yet a harsh pull to remind her that she wasn’t his baby anymore. Her lips tremble when she tries to talk but nothing comes out of her mouth. It was so scary to be this confused.

Rafe’s heart breaks as he sees her flinch at his use of the term. Once upon a time, it was his favorite way to address her – a term of endearment, a sign of his love for her. But now it just served as a reminder of what he'd lost.

He closed the distance between them both and slowly reached out to take her trembling hands in his. His expression was one of uncertainty mixed with a desperate hope.

“Baby, I don’t-“ He cuts himself off, his throat closing up.

She couldn’t stay there for another minute. It felt like a dream turning into a tortuous nightmare. She shut her eyes when he called her baby again. Oh, God, what would she do to be his baby again.

“Maybe I should go.” She says in a slightly more subtle tone. She should stop this from happening. They should part ways and get over it.

Rafe’s heart sank as she spoke the words he dreaded to hear. He had hoped — no, he had wanted — this conversation to go much different. He tightened his grip on her hands, refusing to let her slip away.

“No,” his voice was firm, the single word filled with a mixture of plea and determination. “Please, just…don’t go. Just talk to me, baby, please. We can work this out.”

She looked up at him through her big doe eyes, filled with sorrow, a silent plea hidden deep within them. Her gaze searched his face, desperate for something — some sign that this wasn’t just another cruel twist of fate, that they could still find a way back to each other. But all she saw was the same pain mirrored in his expression, a reflection of the brokenness that had once been shared between them. Her eyebrows were furrowed, the weight of everything that had happened between them pressing down on her chest, suffocating her. She couldn’t help it. A lonely sob slipped from her throat, the sound fragile and raw, as if it had been trapped inside her for far too long. It was a sound that broke her, that broke him, and for a moment, neither of them could move, both frozen in the echo of the pain they had inflicted on one another.

She didn’t know how to fix this, how to make it right, but all she could feel was the emptiness that had settled in her heart. The ache was too much to bear, and as the sobs wracked her body, she realized how much she had longed for him to stay, to not leave her alone with the weight of it all.

“And then what?” She asks him in an honest hope of terms. “We’ll apologize for almost killing each other and forget about all that pain? And live happily ever after?”

Rafe's heart aches at the pain in her voice and the tears forming in her eyes. He wants nothing more than to make all the hurt go away – both hers and his. He reaches up and gently brushes away a tear that escapes down her cheek, his touch tender and full of an old, familiar tenderness.

“Baby, I'm not saying it'll be easy,” he says softly, his expression a mixture of pain and determination. “But I want to try. I want us to try.” Those words were a promise, tentative but full of the hope that had been buried beneath the weight of everything they had endured. They weren’t guarantees, but they were real. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.

She sobs once again when he holds her closer to him. It felt so right to be in his arms, it didn’t hurt anymore. But it was still terrifying. They weren’t the same anymore.

“I don’t know if I have the strength to try,” she whispered. All she ever wanted was to be his girl again. But what if he decides to leave again? She can’t handle that all over again.

Rafe's heart breaks as she sobs, as she mentions not having the strength to try. He knows he's to blame for that – he's the one who broke her strength, shattered her faith in him.

He pulls her even closer, his arms wrapping around her tightly, desperately.

“You don't have to have the strength. I'll be there, baby, and I'll be strong for both of us,” he whispers, his voice trembling with a mix of pain and determination. “I won't leave you again. I promise.”

She allowed him to hold her tightly, her head resting on his shoulder while he pleaded so dearly. He was desperate. God, she would fold in his hands.

“Do you really mean this?” She asks again. He had to be sure that he wanted this, that he wanted her.

Rafe lets out a shaky breath as she leans into him, his heart skipping a beat. He never wanted to let her go, ever again.

He takes a moment to collect himself before answering, his voice firm and unwavering. “Baby, with everything I have in me. I want this, I want you. So goddamn badly.”

Her fingers find his face, tracing his jawline ever so slightly. Her touch was so soft and slowly, almost like telling how afraid she was of him disappearing into thin air.

“We can’t be insane this time,” she whispered as she kept touching his skin. They have to do this right or not even try. “We’ll have to get to know each other again. Heal from what happened first.”

Rafe's heart skipped a beat as her delicate fingers traced over his jaw, the touch a bittersweet mixture of comfort and nostalgia. He nodded as she spoke, his eyes never leaving hers. He understood the gravity of those words.

“We can do this right,” he said softly, his voice filled with determination and desire. “We'll take all the time we need to heal, to get to know each other again. I'm not going anywhere, baby. I'll be here for as long as it takes.”

She stared into his eyes for longer than she should, keeping her silence as she tried to catch any glimpse of regret in him. But there wasn’t. He was serious. He has changed.

“Okay.” She whispered.

And just like that she was willing to go through everything again just for his sake.

Rafe's heart leapt in his chest as he heard the word leave her lips. It was such a simple word, but it meant so much.

He pulled her closer, the relief and hope flooding in his system.

“We'll take it slow,” he promised, his voice still trembling. “No more fighting. No more hurt. Just healing and rebuilding, okay?”

She nodded softly at him, her arms hugging him around his neck. She inhaled deeply into his chest, filling herself with his scent. Only God knew how much she missed this. To be his.

She could die right there in his arms. She didn’t need anything else. But she knew she couldn’t throw herself in this situation so blindly.

Rafe wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her close against his chest. He had missed this – her – so much. The feeling of her body against his, her scent filling his nostrils, her breath against his skin.

He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the feeling of having her in his arms again.

“We'll be okay, baby,” he whispered softly, his voice filled with a mixture of determination and tenderness. “I won't let anything come between us again.”

She felt like she could finally breathe again. That lump in her throat going away after weeks of choking me. Her heart finally stopped hurting. She takes a deep breath as she leans her head slightly back to look up at him.

“I love you.” She tells him in reassurance. She's never stopped loving him so deeply. But he has to know that love will not be enough this time.

Rafe's heart nearly stopped at her words. I love you. He had ached to hear those words for what felt like an eternity. And now, here she was, declaring her love for him once again. It was like music to his ears.

“I love you too, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “So goddamn much.”

Their noses touched, the skin on skin sensation tingling in caress. She never wanted to let go. But she had to.

After minutes of silence, of them just holding each other, their faces touching, she says what she´s dreading to say. “I have to go.”

People may be worried about her disappearing last night.

Rafe's expression shifts instantly, his face falling. He knew this was coming, but he didn't want to let her go. Not yet.

He holds her still, his arms wrapped tightly around her, as if to physically prevent her from leaving.

“No, baby,” he responds, his voice strained with desperation. “Please, can't you stay a little longer?”

She gives him a sad smile when he holds so much tighter. He didn’t want her to go. He didn’t want to let go of her. Neither did she.

“Kie might be worried,” she tells him, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the admission might make the weight of her words heavier. She knows he’s probably heard that after they broke up, she didn’t go back to live with her parents in their mansion. She couldn’t handle the thought of being in the same world as him, surrounded by the luxury and coldness of a life that felt so distant from the one she had with him.

The thought of returning to that world, to the emptiness of it all, made her feel suffocated, as if every corner of the mansion would remind her of everything she had lost. So, instead, she stayed with her pogue friends, people who didn’t judge her, who didn’t expect anything from her but to be herself, messy and broken as she was. They had offered her a refuge, a place to breathe, away from the world that had crumbled beneath her feet.

She wasn’t sure if Kie knew just how far she had fallen, how much she had sacrificed just to stay afloat. But she also didn’t want to explain the depth of her pain, the quiet loneliness that had become her constant companion. She just wanted to move on, to find a way to piece herself together, even if it meant living in the shadows of everything she had once thought was real.

Rafe’s heart sank further at the mention of Kie. He had known, deep down, that she’d likely spent time with the pogues since leaving him. But hearing it out loud felt like a punch to the gut. The thought of her sleeping under the pogues' roof, away from everything he had ever offered, served as a cold reminder of just how badly he had messed things up.

The image of her, curled up on a worn couch or in a cramped space with people who had nothing to do with their past, made the guilt in his chest grow heavier. It wasn’t that he didn’t know the bond she had with them; he had seen it himself, the way they accepted her without hesitation, the way they had been there for her when he wasn’t. But the idea of her living with them, away from the cold comfort of her family’s wealth, told him so much about where she was now. She had chosen authenticity over comfort, warmth over distance. She had chosen the people who had shown her real care, people who saw her for who she was, not for what she could be.

She chose them because they made her feel something he hadn’t made her feel in so long: safe, understood, loved without conditions. It was like a mirror to everything he had failed to give her.

Rafe had always known that her relationship with her parents was strained, even if she never spoke about it much. He’d seen the cracks in their interactions — the cold silences, the passive-aggressive comments, the way they barely looked at her unless they needed something. He had tried, in his own way, to heal the wounds that came with her family’s neglect. He had held her when she cried, whispered promises of safety when she felt lost in the echo of their judgment, tried to show her that she didn’t need their approval to be enough.

When they were together, he thought he was helping her heal, that he was giving her something better — love, security, understanding. He had wanted to be the one who made her feel worthy, who could make her forget the emptiness her parents left in her heart. He’d believed, with all his heart, that he could be the antidote to the poison they had fed her for so long.

But when they broke up, he never realized just how deep the damage went. He had been so consumed by his own hurt, by the end of them, that he didn’t stop to think about what she was going through. She never went back to her family’s mansion after they split. He had assumed she would, like anyone would in her situation — back to the comfort and luxury of her parents' world, where everything was polished and perfect, even if it came with strings attached.

Instead, she went to the pogues. And that choice, that one simple decision, hit him harder than anything else. It was a quiet admission that the one place she should have gone for refuge, the one place that was supposed to offer her shelter, had never truly been a home. It was the realization that everything he thought was better — everything he had tried to offer her — wasn’t enough to heal the parts of her that had been broken long before he ever came into her life.

He should have known. He should have seen it in her eyes every time she talked about her parents, every time they tried to reach out to her with their hollow love. But he hadn’t, and now, as he thought about it, the weight of it crushed him. He hadn’t realized how badly she had needed that support, how deeply her family’s absence had wounded her until it was too late.

He swallowed the pang of hurt he felt within him, but his arms remained locked around her tightly.

“Yeah, she probably is,” his voice was tight. “But can’t you stay a little longer? Just a bit more?”

She catches a glimpse of him swallowing the lump in his throat, his eyes flickering away for just a moment as if to hide the vulnerability creeping up on him. She thought he was probably holding back some biting comment, something that would inevitably turn into a fight like it always did before. But to her surprise, he stays quiet, his jaw clenched but his words still stuck somewhere between them.

She keeps watching him, studying the lines of his face, trying to make sense of the mix of emotions there — pain, regret, hope. She couldn’t tell if it was the same old cycle they always found themselves trapped in, or if this time, things might be different. Her heart thudded in her chest as she tried to make up her mind. It wasn’t easy, but then again, nothing between them ever had been.

“A couple of minutes more isn’t going to hurt,” she thinks to herself, almost as if she were giving herself permission to stay in this moment a little longer. Just a little longer. Because once it was over, once she stepped away, there was no going back.

“I’ll text her that I am safe,” she tells him as her fingers brush on his cheeks. “And then I’ll stay a little longer. Okay?”

Rafe's expression softens as her fingers graze over his cheeks, his tension melting away. Her words are like a balm to his anxious mind.

He nods slowly, his grip on her relaxed a fraction. “Yeah, okay. Just a few more minutes. That's all I'm asking for.” His arms remain wrapped around her, holding her close. He couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go just yet.

She couldn’t help but leave a soft kiss on his cheek, her lips grazing over his skin ever so slightly. She didn’t free herself from his tight hold, just turned around a bit to grab her phone from his nightstand.

She smiles when she sees the clothes she wore yesterday, clean and folded neatly next to it. The sight of them brings a wave of warmth, and her mind drifts back to the moment she had worn them — how sticky and damp they had been after her most grueling day, drenched from the ocean's waves that seemed to swallow her whole.

He had also given her a bath last night, his hands gentle and purposeful, as if he could erase all the weight from her. And then, when she had finally drifted to sleep in his arms, he stayed by her side, watching over her like she was something fragile, something worth protecting.

She was wearing only one of his shirts and his boxers, the fabric too big for her frame but comforting in its familiarity. The memory of how he had tucked her in, his warmth surrounding her, made her heart flutter despite everything that had come before. The tenderness of that moment — the care he had shown — felt like a lifeline, even in the midst of everything falling apart.

Rafe watched closely as she reached for her phone, his arms still loosely wrapped around her, his touch lingering like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. Seeing her in his shirt, the way it hung off her frame so effortlessly, sent another shiver down his spine. It was a mix of tenderness and possessiveness, the soft, worn fabric a reminder of the closeness they once shared, and of how much had changed.

She typed out a quick message to Kie, telling her that she was fine but leaving out the details — where she was, who she was with. Rafe could see her fingers moving quickly over the screen, a quiet tension in the air between them. He couldn’t blame her for being vague. It wasn’t like things were clear between them. But still, watching her type, his heart pounded in his chest, unsure of what she was really thinking or what it all meant.

“So,” she says, turning her phone off and shifting her attention back to him, “Breakfast?”

Rafe lets out a small sigh of relief as she turns her phone off, the finality of it almost comforting. At least for now, it felt like they were in their own little world, no distractions, no pressing questions. He raises an eyebrow at her question, his eyes flicking to the clock above them. “I reckon it’s more like lunch by now,” he says softly, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, trying to lighten the mood. He wasn’t sure where things were headed, but in this moment, with her here, he was willing to follow wherever it led.

She giggled softly at his words, that small smirk telling her that he was so comfortable with having her around.

“Lunch it is, then,” she replied with a casual shrug, though there was something uncertain in the way she moved. Rafe’s heart skips a beat when he hears her soft giggle, the sound of it like music to his ears, familiar and comforting in a way he hadn’t realized he missed. Without thinking, he tightens his arms around her just a little, savoring the simple feeling of having her in his presence again, so close, so real.

But as he does, his eyes drift to her body, noticing the way her clothes seem to hang a bit looser than before. He had seen the subtle change in her, the way she seemed smaller, thinner. At first, he thought it was just the aftermath of the breakup, the emotional toll, but now, it made his stomach twist in concern.

She had clearly lost weight after their split, and she was just starting to try to eat normally again. Kie had practically forced her into this recovery, and she was trying — really trying — to get better. But Rafe didn’t need to know the details of that, not yet.

Without even considering how it might sound, he asks, his voice soft but laced with worry, “Have you been eating properly?”

Her eyes snap to him when he asks the question so suddenly, catching her off guard. She hadn’t expected him to notice, hadn’t expected him to see through the subtle shifts. He had caught her, and in that moment, she felt a wave of shame wash over her. She didn’t want to lie to him, but there were things she wasn’t ready to talk about, things she wasn’t sure she could.

“I am now,” she replied, her voice steady, though her gaze avoided his. It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. She was trying to eat properly now. She was making an effort to take care of herself, even if it had been a struggle. The truth felt like something she could only admit in small, guarded pieces.

Rafe’s eyebrows furrow as he sees her reaction. He can tell he’s struck a nerve, and he’s instantly filled with a sense of guilt and concern. When she responds with ‘I am now’, his heart sinks. That wasn’t a yes, and that wasn't a no. It was an answer that left unanswered questions swirling in his mind.

He takes a shaky breath and nods slowly, trying to keep his voice steady.

“But before now?” he prompts, his voice barely above a whisper.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance when she noticed that he would not drop the conversation. But she knew he was just concerned so she sighed before answering.

“I wasn’t,” she says as my eyes drop to his hands, her fingers playing with his rings. “But I am trying now. That’s all that matters.”

Rafe's heart aches as she confirms that she hadn't been eating properly. It was like a punch to the gut. He knew it was partly his fault – the breakup had taken a toll on her as much as it had on him. But the thought of her not eating, of her neglecting herself - it was enough to make his blood boil.

He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. “Why weren't you eating, baby?”

She rests her forehead against his chest for a moment, as if trying to hide from the weight of the truth. She knew she couldn’t keep quiet forever, though — the silence only made it worse. Taking a deep breath, she finally looks back up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of shame and frustration.

“I didn’t choose to not eat,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, trying to explain in the clearest way she could. She had to make him understand that she wasn’t relapsing into her eating disorder, even though the tightness in her chest felt like it might swallow her whole. “I just couldn’t get myself to do it anymore.”

The words seemed to hang between them, thick with the memories of how her struggle had always affected their relationship. There had been times before, when things were good, when she would push herself to eat just to be normal for him, for them. But there were other times — dark, quiet times — when the thought of food felt overwhelming, suffocating, and she couldn’t find the strength to make herself care. It had created a distance between them, a kind of unspoken pain. She had wanted him to help, wanted him to understand, but in the end, it felt like he had just watched her slip away, unable to bridge the gap between what she wanted to say and what she was actually feeling.

The breakup hit her harder than she had anticipated, not just emotionally, but physically too. The depression that followed felt like a heavy weight pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe, let alone take care of herself. The stress, the anxiety — it all piled up, and with it, the familiar, destructive eating habits returned. She stopped eating regularly, stopped caring about anything beyond just getting through the day. The loneliness, the sadness, made food seem like an afterthought. She would skip meals, forget to eat, or force herself to eat just enough to keep going, but never really nourish herself.

She had been trying to avoid the downward spiral that had taken over her before, but it was like she was caught in a cycle she couldn’t break. The pain from the breakup intensified everything — the way she saw herself, the way she felt about her body, the guilt of not being able to maintain any sense of control. It had felt easier to just disappear into the chaos of her thoughts than to deal with the overwhelming emotions of loss and self-doubt.

But now, slowly, she was coming back on track. She was trying to break free from the habits that had been so deeply ingrained, reminding herself that healing wasn’t just about moving on from the breakup — it was about taking care of herself, about learning to nourish her body and her spirit again. It wasn’t easy, and some days were harder than others, but she was trying. And that, she knew, was the first step to finding herself again.

Rafe swallows down another pang of guilt that wells up inside him. He knew that the breakup had shaken her, but he hadn’t considered the extent of it. The fact that she couldn’t bring herself to eat – it broke his heart.

He had seen the changes, the way she’d seemed distant and withdrawn. It was like a punch to his gut, the realization that his departure had only pushed her further into a place she had been fighting so hard to escape. He couldn’t help but feel guilty. He had always tried to fix things, to help her when she was struggling with those demons, but he had failed her when it mattered most. He hadn’t been there, hadn’t noticed the subtle signs that she was slipping back into old patterns. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of how he had walked away without fully understanding the consequences. He had thought that leaving would make things easier, for both of them, but now he saw the damage it had caused.

But then, there was a flicker of hope when she spoke about coming back on track. She was trying. And that realization — small as it was — stirred something deep within him. He knew it wouldn’t be easy for her, that recovery wasn’t something that happened overnight. But hearing her say it, hearing her take the first steps toward healing, made him wonder if there was a chance, maybe just a slim one, for them to rebuild what they had lost.

He wanted to be there for her, more than anything. He wanted to be the one who helped her through this, who supported her as she fought to find herself again. But he also knew that it wasn’t up to him to fix her, to be the one to save her. That was something only she could do for herself. Still, the thought of being part of that journey — if she’d let him — was enough to make his heart race.

He pulls her close again, his arms wrapping around her tightly, as if he could somehow make up for his mistakes.

“Nut you’re eating now, right?” he pressed gently. “You’re taking care of yourself?”

She nodded softly at his questions, forcing a smile to reassure him. She was taking care of herself even though it was a struggle.

“Yeah,” she tells him in a whisper. “My friends helped me a lot,” she says. Kie and Sarah had her back while she was slipping into that dark place.

Rafe takes a moment to process her words, his expression softening slightly. He was relieved to know that she had people there for her while she was struggling, despite how much it hurt to think of her relying on other people for support.

He let out a shaky sigh, his arms still wrapped tightly around her. “And you’re better now?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of hope and trepidation.

She tried to take her mind off of the dark parts of what she’s been through, so she did what she did best to distract herself. Her fingers were slowly tracing and mapping every single detail of his skin. Him being shirtless helped her to focus on each little freckle on his shoulders and chest.

“I am,” she told him in honest words. She was better. Especially now that she is in his arms.

He felt a shiver of pleasure down his spine as her fingers traced over his skin, his body responding to her touch even if his mind was elsewhere.

Her answer – soft and honest, but filled with hope – made his heart skip a beat. He held her closer, the feeling of having her back in his arms and the reassurance that she was getting better lifting a weight off his shoulders.

He let out a shaky breath, his voice full of emotion. “Good. That’s good, baby. I’m glad.”

She can’t help but giggle at the sound of him calling her baby once again. Last night it felt like a distant dream to be with him again. And now it was so real. She was afraid of waking up.

She felt like staying in bed with him for eternity.

As her sweet giggle met his ears, Rafe felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest. It was a sound he had missed dearly in the time they'd been apart.

He held her tight, his arms wrapped snugly around her as if to hold her in his reality. He shared her fear of this being a dream, of her slipping out of his grasp like sand.

He chuckled softly in response. “If we stay in bed all day, we won’t have any lunch,” he teased gently.

She bit her lower lip in an attempt to hold back a big smile. Her fingers kept tracing every inch of his skin, memorizing his every spot.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she confessed in a heartbeat.

Rafe’s heart skipped a beat at her confession, his body responding to her touch with a shiver that rippled through him. He couldn’t deny that he wanted nothing more than to spend the day in bed with his girl, her body pressed against his, their hands exploring every inch of skin. But he also knew that neither of them had eaten yet, and he didn’t want to encourage her already poor eating habits. He took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow down.

“We should eat something, baby,” he said, his voice huskier than he intended.

She hummed in agreement with his statement. We should eat something. Together. God, they were together again. She couldn’t believe that.

Rafe felt his breath hitch as she leaned in and kissed his cheek again, her soft whisper sending a shiver through him. It was such a small gesture, but it carried a weight that he couldn’t ignore. He had missed this — the quiet, tender moments that had always felt so effortless between them. Now, each one felt like a fragile thread connecting them, and he was terrified of pulling too hard and breaking it.

He couldn’t help but notice the careful distance she was maintaining, though. It wasn’t physical, not entirely, but there was a hesitance in her movements, a deliberate slowness that told him she was holding back. And he understood why. Since the breakup, there had been nothing even remotely intimate between them — not a kiss, not a touch that lingered too long. It was as if they were both treading carefully, afraid of rushing into something that could crumble under the weight of their unresolved issues.

He admired her for it, though. She was right — taking things slow was probably the best way to rebuild what they had lost. But part of him struggled with the restraint. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to kiss her like he used to, to feel that undeniable connection that had always been there. Yet, he knew that pushing too hard, too fast, would only risk undoing everything they were trying to piece back together.

As much as it killed him to wait, he realized that this was about more than just what he wanted. It was about her, about earning back her trust and showing her that he was willing to do this the right way. If slow was what she needed, then slow was what he’d give her — even if every fiber of his being ached for more.

He took a shaky breath and loosened his grip on her a fraction, trying to calm the heat that was building within him.

“Come on,” he said, his voice still raspy from the weight of the morning. “Let's get something to eat.”

She let him slip from her arms as he got up from the bed, his hand reaching out to hers. His grip was soft but insistent, pulling her gently to her feet. Standing there in nothing but his shirt, she felt a pang of discomfort, not because she was self-conscious, but because of the memories it brought back. This house had once been theirs. Their sanctuary. Their home.

As they walked through the familiar halls, the silence between them was heavy with unspoken thoughts. The echoes of laughter, arguments, and quiet moments filled her mind. They had lived together for months before everything unraveled. She remembered how quickly it all fell apart — the night he told her he didn’t want her anymore, the way she packed her things in a haze of heartbreak, and how she’d walked out without looking back. Instead of returning to her parents' house, which had never felt like home, she sought refuge with Kie, burying herself in a world far removed from this one.

“It looks the same,” she mumbled as they stepped into the kitchen, her eyes scanning the room that once felt so alive with them.

Rafe walked beside her, his jaw tight as memories crashed over him. He hadn’t changed much about the house since she left. It was as if he’d been unable to. Each corner, each piece of furniture, held traces of her — moments he both cherished and regretted. Seeing her there now, moving through the space like a ghost of the past, sent an ache through his chest.

“Yeah, it does,” he replied softly, his voice tinged with something between sorrow and longing. “Nothing's changed much.”

He wanted to say more, to tell her how empty the house had felt without her, how he had tried to ignore the hollow quiet that crept in after she left. But the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he moved toward the kitchen counter, opening the fridge as if focusing on something as simple as breakfast could dull the ache in his chest.

That gut-wrenching feeling hit her like a tidal wave, threatening to pull her under. She couldn’t stop it. It was as if she was being swallowed by the sea of heartbreak all over again. Nothing’s changed much, he’d said. The words twisted like a knife in her chest. Because everything had changed for her. She had hit rock bottom, been reduced to a shadow of herself. She had turned into a mess, clawing her way back to some semblance of stability. But him? He looked the same. Untouched. Like none of it had mattered.

“I see,” she muttered, a bitter snort escaping her lips. She wasn’t trying to be cruel, but the memories stung too much. He had another girl in his arms just days after their breakup. Hell, she remembered how he had been with someone else just last night. How could he stand there now, acting like any of it meant something?

Rafe flinched at her tone, closing the fridge, a pang of guilt surging through his chest. He knew he hadn’t been fair to her — not in the breakup, not in the aftermath. He had handled it like a coward, grasping for anything to numb the pain. He saw the hurt etched on her face now, and it only deepened the regret that had been gnawing at him since the moment she left.

Running a hand through his hair, his expression crumbled into something raw and pained. “I know I messed up,” he admitted, his voice thick with remorse. “Trust me, I know.”

He stepped closer to her, closing the distance between them with hesitant steps. His eyes searched hers, desperate to make her understand. “But I was just trying to move on,” he said, the words falling heavy between them. “Just like you.”

The tears welled up in her eyes before she could stop them. Her body began to tremble, and she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, as if trying to hold herself together. She felt exposed, vulnerable, like he could see every fracture in her heart.

“I wasn’t trying to move on,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyebrows furrowed as she met his gaze, the weight of her words breaking her all over again. “I was trying to survive.”

Her admission hung in the air like a thundercloud, and Rafe felt like the ground had shifted beneath him. He hadn’t realized the depth of her struggle, hadn’t understood just how much she had endured. For the first time, he saw her pain not as an echo of his own, but as something far deeper and more consuming. It left him standing there, utterly speechless.

The sight of her tears was unbearable, a sharp dagger twisting deeper with every tremor of her body. Watching her struggle to keep herself together unraveled something in Rafe, breaking him apart in a way he hadn't known was possible. He reached out, hesitant, his hand hovering over her shoulder, as if afraid to touch and cause more damage.

“Baby...” he murmured, his voice soft, trembling with an emotion he could barely hold back.

Her words stopped him cold. I was trying to survive. Each syllable cut through the haze of his guilt, striking at the very core of him. His chest tightened as the weight of her suffering pressed on him like a physical force.

She shut her eyes, the sound of his voice too much to bear. It was all too raw, too overwhelming. She loved this man — loved him in a way that terrified her, in a way that made her feel both alive and utterly destroyed. But that love came with scars, ones she wasn’t sure she could heal.

“No, it’s fine,” she whispered on a shaky sigh, her lashes wet as she forced herself to meet his gaze again. She tried to push away the tears, to find some strength in the chaos. “I can’t give us another chance if we keep going back to the past.”

Rafe’s hand fell to his side, his shoulders slumping under the weight of her words. She was right, and the realization stung. He couldn’t undo what he’d done, couldn’t erase the nights she spent crying or the days she fought to keep herself afloat. He took a deep breath, his voice a mixture of pain and fragile hope.

“So, what do we do then?” he asked quietly, the vulnerability in his tone almost breaking her resolve.

She bit her lower lip, contemplating his question. They had already decided to take it slow, to tread carefully this time. If there was any hope of making this work, they couldn’t rush back into the storm. They needed to rebuild, piece by piece, to do things differently and finally get it right. She took a deep breath, sliding onto the kitchen counter as she tried to lighten the weight of the moment.

“Coffee?” she asked, a soft smile breaking through the tension, fragile but genuine. One thing at a time.

Rafe felt his heart skip at the sight of her smile, so small yet so full of meaning. It was a flicker of light in the darkness, a tentative promise of something better. He couldn’t help but smile back, a tenderness in his eyes that had been absent for far too long.

He glanced at the coffee machine, then back at her. “Yeah” he replied, his voice still tinged with the weight of their conversation but softening with her warmth. “Coffee sounds perfect.”

For a moment, the kitchen felt less like a battlefield and more like a haven, a fragile space where healing might begin. He walked to the coffee machine, his movements steady, deliberate. The simple act of brewing coffee was grounding, a small ritual of normalcy in the middle of so much emotional chaos.

She sat quietly on the counter, her eyes fixed on him as he worked. The way he moved — effortless, familiar — was mesmerizing. The rich aroma of brewing coffee filled the room, wrapping the kitchen in a comforting warmth that felt almost like home. It was almost cruel how easily the moment mimicked their past, as if time hadn’t pulled them apart, as if heartbreak hadn’t carved deep wounds into both of them.

Her gaze lingered, absorbing every detail of him. The concentration in his face, the way his hands moved with practiced ease. Her heart ached, heavy with the love she still carried for him. God, she still loves this man.

Rafe was painfully aware of her eyes on him. He could feel the weight of her gaze, the unspoken tension curling around them like a fragile thread. It wasn’t uncomfortable — it was grounding, like the coffee. A reminder of everything he’d missed, of the connection that still pulsed between them despite the scars.

As the coffee finished brewing, he turned to her, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “How do you take it?”

Her heart clenched at the question. Something so mundane had become a symbol of how much had changed. Once, he knew the answer without asking. Now, the question hung between them, a stark reminder of the distance they had to bridge.

“Black. No sugar,” she said, her tone clipped. Once, she couldn’t stand coffee without cream and sugar. After the breakup, it became a metaphor for survival — plain and bitter, just like her days without him.

Rafe’s chest tightened at her reply. He remembered her sweet tooth, how she used to grin as she added scoop after scoop of sugar to her mug. Now, the bitterness seemed to mirror something inside her. As he poured the coffee into two mugs, he wondered how much else had changed about her — how much of it was because of him.

He handed her a mug — her mug. The one with the Snoopy drawing. The one he had bought for her after her obsession with Snoopy began. Her fingers brushed against his as she took it, and she couldn’t suppress a soft laugh, her eyes lighting up in a way he hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” she said, her voice touched with surprise and a glimmer of warmth. Rafe felt a flicker of relief and hope at her reaction. A small victory. He shrugged lightly, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “Of course I still have it. You love that damn dog.”

Her laugh came again, soft and melodic, like a balm to his aching heart. She held the mug close to her chest, biting her lower lip to suppress the emotions rising within her. The Snoopy mug — the symbol of something so simple, so pure — felt like a thread tying her back to him.

“It means a lot,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “That you kept it.”

Rafe’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his fingers grazing hers on the mug. His voice was low, trembling slightly with emotion. “I couldn’t get rid of it. It was a part of you.” He paused, his breath hitching as he met her eyes. “And I never wanted to forget you.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. Instead, a soft, involuntary groan escaped her throat, the sound raw and filled with yearning. There he was — her Rafe. The man who had once held her heart so carefully, now standing before her with his soul bared.

“I’m glad,” she whispered, her voice cracking with vulnerability. She wasn’t ready to say more, but her heart swelled at the thought that, even when apart, he had held space for her.

Rafe exhaled shakily, her simple words hitting him with a force he hadn’t anticipated. “How could I forget you?” he asked, his voice trembling. “You’re etched into my soul, baby.”

Her eyes closed for a moment, her body trembling at his words. When she opened them again, she looked up at him, her lips quivering. “Do you mean that?” she asked, her voice filled with desperate hope.

His hand found hers again, their fingers intertwining as though they belonged nowhere else. “Yes,” he said, his voice firm despite the vulnerability in his eyes. “You’re in every part of me. Every breath, every heartbeat — you’re a part of me.”

Rafe watched her closely, his heart pounding as she processed his words. Her silence spoke volumes — an unspoken dialogue passing between them, heavy with the weight of their shared history.

She bit her lower lip, a gesture he knew so well, trying to steady herself. When she nodded softly, her gaze falling to their joined hands, he felt a surge of emotion so strong it almost overwhelmed him. The way their fingers intertwined felt so natural, so right, as though they had never been apart.

He couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to gently lift her chin so she was forced to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed lightly against her jawline, his eyes searching hers for the answers to questions he was too afraid to ask aloud.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said softly, his voice a quiet promise. “But I need you to know... I’m not letting you go again. Not without a fight.”

Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, the vulnerability in his words threatening to break through the walls she had so carefully rebuilt. She wanted to believe him — wanted to let herself fall into the warmth of his presence — but the memories of the pain he’d caused lingered like shadows in the corners of her mind.

Still, the way he looked at her now, like she was the only person in the world, made it hard to hold onto the anger. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, her eyes glistening as she whispered, “I don’t know if I can handle being hurt again, Rafe.”

Her words were a dagger to his heart, but he understood. He knew he didn’t deserve her trust — not yet — but he was determined to earn it.

“You won’t be,” he promised, his voice firm yet tender. “I swear to you, I’ll spend every day proving that I’m not the same man who let you go.”

She let out a shaky breath, her resolve softening ever so slightly. Looking down at their joined hands again, she couldn’t deny the comfort his touch brought her. Maybe, just maybe, this time could be different. But for now, she allowed herself the smallest sliver of hope as she whispered, “One step at a time.”

Rafe’s thumb continued its gentle caress, his touch trembling slightly as though he was terrified she might pull away. His eyes, those piercing blue eyes she once got lost in so easily, were heavy with a tenderness she hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. He wasn’t just looking at her; he was baring his soul, silently pleading for her to see the man he so desperately wanted to be for her.

Her words, soft and uncertain, echoed in his mind: I don’t know if I can handle being hurt again. They struck him like a bolt of lightning, raw and real, cutting through every layer of guilt, regret, and love he carried for her. He had hurt her in ways he couldn’t even begin to forgive himself for, and yet here she was — still in front of him, still within reach.

His fingers tightened just slightly on her hand, as if anchoring himself to this fragile moment. “You have no idea how much I hate myself for hurting you,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Every day, I think about what I did. How I broke something so beautiful… so good.” He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping briefly before he forced himself to meet her eyes again. “You deserved better than me back then. And I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve you now, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying if you let me.”

Her lip quivered as she listened to his words, the vulnerability in his voice tugging at the walls she had built so carefully around her heart. She wanted to stay strong, wanted to shield herself from the possibility of pain, but the sincerity in his eyes was disarming in a way she hadn’t expected.

“I loved you so much, Rafe,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as though saying it too loudly might shatter her. “I gave you everything. And when you…” Her breath hitched as she blinked back the tears threatening to spill. “It felt like I wasn’t enough. Like I’d never be enough for anyone.”

Rafe’s heart broke all over again at her confession, his chest tightening with an ache he couldn’t put into words. He stepped closer, his free hand moving to cup her cheek as he gently tilted her face toward his. “Don’t you ever think that,” he said, his voice low and thick with emotion. “You are enough. You’ve always been enough. I was the one who wasn’t. I was scared, and I let my fear ruin the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She blinked, the tears slipping down her cheeks despite her attempts to hold them back. His thumb brushed them away with the same tenderness that used to make her feel safe. The warmth of his hand, the earnestness in his eyes — it was too much, and yet it wasn’t enough.

“Why now?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Why are you saying all this now?”

Rafe hesitated, his eyes searching hers for a moment before he answered. “Because I realized I was lying to myself, thinking I could live without you,” he admitted, his voice raw. “I thought it’d be easier to move on, to forget, but all I did was carry the weight of losing you everywhere I went. I don’t want to live like that anymore. I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the confession, her mind warring between the lingering hurt and the undeniable pull of the love she still felt for him. “I don’t know if I can just… jump back in,” she whispered, her eyes filled with both fear and longing. “I need to know this is real, Rafe. I need to know you mean it.”

He leaned closer, his forehead gently resting against hers. “It’s real,” he said, his voice a soft, steady promise. “I mean it with everything I have. I’ll prove it to you every day, in every way, for as long as it takes. Just… don’t give up on me. On us.”

Her tears fell freely now, but for the first time, they weren’t entirely out of pain. She didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if they could truly rebuild what had been broken. But as she felt the warmth of his hands, the honesty in his words, and the depth of emotion in his eyes, she allowed herself to believe — if only for a moment — that maybe, just maybe, they could try.

“One step at a time,” she whispered, her voice barely steady but filled with quiet resolve.

Rafe nodded, a faint, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “One step at a time,” he echoed, his hand lingering on hers as though he never wanted to let go.

Rafe watches her struggle to steady herself, her teeth catching her lower lip as her eyes drift downward. He can see the storm of emotions swirling within her, reflecting his own turmoil. Every fiber of him aches to close the space between them, to pull her into his arms and never let go. But he knows better — they need to tread carefully, to rebuild what was broken piece by piece.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, his voice carrying a tenderness that makes her chest tighten.

She draws a shaky breath, lifting her gaze to meet his. A faint smile graces her lips, fragile but genuine. She nods, her fingers lightly tracing his in an effort to calm the unease. “Yeah,” she whispers, though her voice betrays her vulnerability. “I’m just… overwhelmed.” She doesn’t elaborate; she doesn’t need to. Rafe understands without her having to explain.

He nods, his focus never wavering from her face. He feels it too — this bittersweet tension, this dizzying mixture of hope and pain. The sheer weight of being in each other’s presence again. Gently, he lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “It’s a lot, I know,” he murmurs against her skin. “But we’ll take it slow, okay?”

A quiet sigh escapes her as his lips brush her knuckles. It’s a touch so delicate, so thoughtful, and entirely Rafe. Her Rafe. “Okay,” she whispers, her gaze locking with his. The rawness in his eyes mirrors her own, as if the world around them has dissolved, leaving only this fragile moment between them.

Rafe’s heart flutters under the weight of her stare. He takes her hand to his chest, resting it above his pounding heart. “Feel that?” he asks, his voice low and trembling. “That’s for you, baby.”

Her breath hitches, her chest tightening at his words. She feels the steady rhythm beneath her palm, his heartbeat telling her all the things he can’t yet put into words. Tears prick her eyes, but she forces a weak smile as she leans in closer, resting her forehead gently against his.

“You can’t say stuff like that,” she murmurs, her voice laced with a desperate plea. Her palm remains pressed to his chest, feeling his warmth, his sincerity.

Rafe’s breath catches at the closeness, their noses brushing, their breaths mingling in the narrow space between them. His free hand moves to cradle her face, his thumb tracing soft circles against her cheek. “Why not?” he rasps, his voice raw. “It’s the truth.”

Her resolve falters under his touch, his tenderness breaking through her defenses. Their bodies draw closer, her knees parting instinctively as he steps between her legs, grounding them both in this moment. She lets her hands slide from his chest to his shoulders, up to his neck, and finally to the back of his head, her fingers grazing his buzzed hair with an intimacy that feels achingly familiar.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she confesses, her voice breaking. She’s raw, exposed, unable to hide the depth of her longing. “For you to hold me when it got too hard. For you to stay.”

Rafe’s heart clenches at her words, the weight of his past mistakes crushing him. His hands find her waist, pulling her closer as he buries his face into the crook of her neck. His lips brush against her skin, and his voice is a shaky whisper. “I know, baby. I know. I should’ve never left you.”

His hold tightens as his body trembles against hers. “But I won’t make that mistake again,” he promises, his voice thick with emotion. “Never again.”

A soft sound escapes her, caught between a sigh and a sob, as his desperation pulls her closer. She lets him hold her, their shared heartache intertwining in the quiet embrace. His words resonate deeply within her, but she says nothing, letting her fingers soothe the tension in his scalp, grounding him as much as he grounds her.

When he pulls back, his blue eyes meet hers, shimmering with emotion. “You’re too good to me,” he whispers, guilt and gratitude lacing every word. “I don’t deserve you.”

Her fingers trace the lines of his face, soft and reassuring. A faint giggle escapes her lips as she shakes her head. “You’re right,” she teases gently, offering a smirk to lighten the heaviness between them. “But I’m here. That has to count for something.”

Rafe chuckles softly, his heart swelling at the warmth in her words. He leans into her touch, covering her hand with his. “It counts for everything,” he murmurs. “The fact that you’re here, giving me another chance… it’s more than I could ever ask for.”

Her smile softens at his earnestness, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “We deserve another chance,” she says, her voice steady and filled with quiet conviction. She believes it, wholly and deeply.

His hand tightens over hers, his gaze unwavering. “We do,” he agrees, the words carrying the weight of his regret and the hope for a future that feels just within reach. This time, he wouldn’t falter. This time, he would hold onto her with everything he had.

"I should go now," she says, her voice quieter than she intended, her eyes flicking to the clock on the kitchen wall. It’s a quarter to one. She has plans to meet Kie soon, but that’s not the only reason.

Rafe’s heart drops at her words, an ache blooming in his chest. The thought of her leaving, of her walking out that door again, is almost unbearable. But he masks his disappointment with a small nod, trying to respect her space. “Yeah, of course,” he says, though there’s a faint tremor in his voice.

He steps closer to her, his hands finding her hips, his touch hesitant yet magnetic. He pulls her closer, their bodies aligning as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Just… promise me you’ll come back, okay?” His voice carries a plea, raw and vulnerable.

Her breath catches at the sudden closeness, her chest tightening as his warmth envelops her. His hands on her hips feel both comforting and terrifying, grounding her while stirring a panic she can’t quite suppress. She sighs, her body betraying her turmoil, leaning into the familiarity even as her mind screams to run.

She tries to smile, forcing her lips to curve as she meets his gaze. “We’ll talk, okay?” It’s the only answer she can give. She doesn’t know if she’ll come back — not because she doesn’t want to, but because she’s not sure she can survive being hurt again. Her heart is a mess, fragile and aching, and the weight of his presence only magnifies her confusion.

Rafe searches her face, his grip on her hips tightening ever so slightly, as if anchoring himself to her. “Yeah,” he murmurs, the uncertainty in her words echoing in his own. “We’ll talk.”

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. It’s tender and unhurried, a quiet act of affection that sends shivers down her spine. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, letting the warmth of his lips linger, fighting the urge to lose herself in the safety of his embrace.

But when his lips leave her skin, she feels the emptiness creep back in. Her heart clenches painfully, and she pulls back, breaking the connection. “I really should go,” she says again, more firmly this time, her voice trembling despite herself.

Rafe watches her retreat, his hands slipping reluctantly from her hips. He doesn’t stop her, doesn’t push, even though everything in him wants to. Instead, he nods, a faint, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “Okay,” he says softly. “I’ll be here… whenever you’re ready.”

She swallows hard, her emotions threatening to spill over as she takes a step back. “Bye, Rafe,” she whispers, her voice almost inaudible.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe obx #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #outer banks #angst with a happy ending #angst

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erithel · 2 days ago

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Early access to all my comics available on my Patreon. Bi-weekly updates.

#klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #vld #fan comic #someone comic #angst with a happy ending #klance comic

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ssa-danhotchner · 2 days ago

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The thread that binds us | Aaron Hotchner x reader

summary: after years of friendship, missed chances, and unspoken feelings, Aaron Hotchner and the reader drift apart. Life takes them in different directions—promises left unfulfilled, words left unsaid.

cw: fem reader, non BAU reader, mention of Haley's death, emotional angst, missed chances, grief

wc: 9.6k

note: the years are not exact

english isn't my first language so please be kind! i recently watched Love, Rosie so I have to write this

You met Aaron Hotchner in high school—though “met” wasn’t quite the right word. It was more like fate threw you together in the most chaotic way possible.

The first day of junior year, you showed up late to homeroom, and the only seat left was next to him. He had his arms crossed, his black hoodie pulled over his head, and a bored expression on his face. He looked like the kind of guy who never broke rules and always finished his homework on time.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath as you slid into the chair.

He glanced sideways at you, arching an eyebrow. “Something wrong with sitting here?”

“Not yet,” you said with a smirk, pulling out your notebook.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

It wasn’t until later that day in chemistry class that you found out how insufferable—and surprisingly fun—Aaron Hotchner could be.

“Do you even know how to hold a pipette?” you asked as you watched him fumble with the equipment.

“Do you?” he shot back, his dark eyes narrowing playfully.

“Yes, actually. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m brilliant.”

“Right,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re so brilliant you couldn’t even find your way to homeroom on time.”

“Touché,” you muttered, grabbing the pipette from him. “Move over. Let me save you from yourself.”

He grinned then, wide and genuine, and it was the first time you realized Aaron Hotchner wasn’t as stoic as he seemed. In fact, he could be downright charming when he let his guard down.

𐙚

1984

You became friends after that, though it wasn’t immediate. Aaron wasn’t the type to let people in easily, but once he did, he was loyal to a fault.

By senior year, you were inseparable. People joked that you were attached at the hip, though neither of you ever corrected them. You weren’t dating—everyone assumed you were, but it wasn’t like that. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“What are you doing after graduation?” Aaron asked one day as you sat in your usual spot on the bleachers, watching the soccer team practice.

“I don’t know,” you said, kicking at a loose piece of gravel. “College, I guess. You?”

“Probably the same,” he said, leaning back on his elbows. “My dad wants me to go to law school eventually.”

“Of course he does. You’ve got ‘future lawyer’ written all over you.”

“And what do you have written all over you?” he asked, glancing at you with a smirk.

“Trouble,” you said, grinning.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” he said, laughing softly.

𐙚

Aaron had been thinking about asking you to prom for weeks.

It wasn’t that he assumed you’d say yes, but the idea of going with anyone else just didn’t make sense. You were his best friend. His person. The one who understood him better than anyone.

But there was this nagging doubt in the back of his mind—this quiet voice that whispered, Why would she want to go with you?

You were effortlessly charming, the kind of person who could light up a room just by walking into it. Meanwhile, Aaron was… well, Aaron. Reserved. Cautious. Always too serious for his own good.

So he hesitated.

And then, one afternoon, he found himself in the hallway with Haley Brooks—the golden girl of your high school, the one everyone adored. She was kind, beautiful, and, most importantly, she was interested in him.

He should’ve walked away. He should’ve told her he already had someone in mind.

But when she smiled at him and casually mentioned how she still didn’t have a date for prom, something inside him wavered.

He thought about how easy it would be.

How no one would question why Aaron Hotchner, the quiet, studious overachiever, was taking Haley Brooks to prom.

How maybe, just maybe, if he asked you and you said no, it wouldn’t hurt as much if he had never asked at all.

So instead of finding you after school like he had planned, he looked at Haley and said, “Do you want to go with me?”

𐙚

You smiled when Aaron and Haley arrived at prom together.

At least, you hoped it looked like a smile.

You had spent weeks waiting for him to ask you, certain that he would. Certain that, after all these years, it just made sense.

But he never did.

And when you saw him standing beside Haley in his perfectly pressed suit, his hand resting carefully at her waist, you understood why.

So you smiled. You laughed. You pretended it didn’t sting.

But when a slow song came on, and he met your eyes across the dance floor, something inside you twisted painfully.

Because for a brief moment, you saw it—hesitation. Regret.

And then, before either of you could move, Haley took his hand, pulling him toward the dance floor.

So you turned away, forcing yourself to do the same.

Later that night, when the party had begun to slow and most of the crowd had thinned, you felt a familiar presence behind you.

You turned, and there he was.

Aaron.

He looked unsure, like he was still trying to convince himself to be here.

“Dance with me?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You hesitated. “What about Haley?”

“She won’t mind,” he said quickly. “It’s just one dance.”

Just one dance.

So you let him take your hand, let him pull you onto the dance floor as another slow song started. His hands found your waist, your arms looped around his shoulders, and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed.

Like it was still just the two of you, the way it had always been.

You swayed in silence, and then—so softly it almost didn’t feel real—Aaron leaned in.

Your breath hitched.

And then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was hesitant, searching—like he was afraid of what it meant but couldn’t stop himself, either.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, your heart hammering against your ribs. You had imagined this moment so many times, but nothing had ever felt quite like this.

But then, just as suddenly as it had started, he pulled away.

His eyes were wide, his breathing unsteady, and for a moment, you thought he was about to say something that would change everything.

But then his face shuttered.

“I—” He swallowed, shaking his head slightly. “That was a mistake.”

The words hit you like a slap.

Aaron must have seen something in your face because he immediately backpedaled. “I mean—I just—” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your stomach twisted, and you forced yourself to nod. “Right. Yeah.”

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. The song was still playing, but neither of you were dancing anymore.

You should’ve said something. Told him he was wrong. That it wasn’t a mistake, that it meant something.

But instead, you nodded again and forced a smile. “It’s fine, Aaron.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else—like he was desperate to—but instead, he just exhaled and gave you the smallest, saddest smile.

And that was that.

Neither of you brought it up again.

𐙚

You and Aaron didn’t fall apart after that night.

You still spent the summer together before college, still stayed up late talking, still laughed until your stomachs hurt.

And if sometimes his eyes lingered on you a little too long, or if you caught yourself remembering the feeling of his lips on yours—you both pretended it never happened.

Because that’s what Aaron wanted.

And if he could pretend, then so could you.

But deep down, you knew the truth.

It hadn’t been a mistake.

It had been a choice.

And maybe, one day, he would finally be brave enough to make a different one.

𐙚

The summer after graduation felt like borrowed time.

You and Aaron knew things were changing—college, distance, new experiences—but neither of you talked about it. Instead, you spent every moment together, stretching out the days like they could last forever.

Late-night drives with the windows down, the radio playing softly in the background. Sneaking into your old high school football field, lying on the grass, talking about nothing and everything. Silent moments where you’d catch him looking at you, like he was memorizing your face, just in case.

But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, August crept closer.

“I don’t get why you’re going all the way to New York,” Aaron said one evening, his voice unusually tense. You were sitting on the swings at the park, your feet dragging in the dirt.

“Because I need to,” you said simply, staring up at the sky. “And you’re staying here because you need to.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. “We’ll still talk all the time.”

You nodded, but a part of you didn’t believe it.

It wasn’t like you wanted to drift apart, but life had a way of pulling people in different directions.

𐙚

At first, you kept your promise.

You called constantly—late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours, emails filled with inside jokes and stories about your new lives. You told Aaron about your classes, your new favorite coffee shop, the people you met. He told you about his professors, how law school wasn’t as bad as he expected, how his dad was already making plans for his future.

But as the months passed, the calls grew less frequent.

“I miss you,” you admitted one night, your voice quieter than usual.

“I miss you too,” he said, but he sounded tired, distracted.

And then, one day, he didn’t pick up.

It wasn’t intentional, not at first. He got busy. You got busy. Weeks turned into months. You’d pick up your phone to text him, only to hesitate, wondering if he’d even have time to respond.

Slowly, the spaces between your conversations stretched wider, until one day, you realized you hadn’t spoken in over a year.

𐙚

1995

You weren’t expecting an invitation to Aaron’s wedding.

By that point, it had been years since you’d last spoken. Life had pulled you in opposite directions—him with law school and the FBI, you with your career and a life far from Virginia. But one day, an envelope appeared in your mailbox, his name scrawled neatly across the back.

Opening it, you found an invitation to his wedding with Haley.

It felt like someone had punched the air out of your lungs.

The last time you’d seen Aaron, there had been something unspoken lingering between you, something you had buried deep because you didn’t know what to do with it. But now, seeing his name next to hers, reality hit you like a freight train.

He had moved on. He was happy.

And you? You weren’t sure what you felt.

A week later, your phone rang.

“Y/N,” Aaron’s familiar voice came through the line.

“Aaron,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hey.”

“Did you get the invitation?” he asked.

“I did,” you said softly. “I was… surprised.”

“I know,” he admitted, his tone hesitant. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come. But it wouldn’t feel right without you there.”

Your chest tightened.

“Of course I’ll come,” you said, even though part of you wanted to say no.

There was a pause, and then he cleared his throat. “There’s, uh, something else. Haley and I were talking… and I was wondering if you’d say a few words at the reception. You’ve known me the longest out of anyone, and—”

“Aaron,” you interrupted gently, your heart aching. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said firmly. “It would mean a lot to me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

𐙚

The day of the wedding came faster than you expected.

You arrived at the church early, trying to keep your emotions in check as you took your seat near the front. The ceremony was beautiful—Haley looked radiant, Aaron impossibly handsome in his tux. Watching them exchange vows was bittersweet; you were happy for him, truly, but it was impossible to ignore the pang of longing deep in your chest.

At the reception, you did your best to blend into the background, sipping champagne and avoiding the dance floor. But when Aaron called your name, motioning for you to come up and speak, there was no hiding.

You took a deep breath, standing up and walking to the microphone. The room was quiet, all eyes on you, but your focus was solely on him.

“Hi, everyone,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Y/n. Aaron and I have been friends since high school, and I’m honored to be here today to celebrate this incredible milestone in his life.”

You glanced at him, your chest tightening at the small, encouraging smile he gave you.

“I could stand here and talk for hours about the kind of person Aaron is. How he’s always been the smartest guy in the room, how he has this way of making everyone feel safe, of making them laugh even when he pretends he’s the serious one. He’s someone who gives all of himself to the people he loves.”

You hesitated, gripping the edge of the microphone stand.

“But what I really want to say is this: Aaron, no matter where life takes you, no matter where you are or who you’re with, you’ll always have a piece of my heart. I’ll always love you.”

The room was quiet for a beat before polite applause broke out. Everyone took your words as the sentiment of a lifelong friend, but when your eyes met Aaron’s, you knew he didn’t.

His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of recognition, maybe even regret.

He didn’t say anything, though.

Later, as the night wound down, you found yourself alone on the balcony, staring out at the stars. You heard footsteps behind you and turned to see Aaron standing there, his jacket off, his tie loosened.

He stepped beside you, resting his hands on the railing. The soft hum of music and laughter filtered through the open door, but out here, it was quiet—just the two of you and the weight of everything unspoken.

“You always did sneak away at parties,” he said, his voice tinged with warmth.

You smiled faintly. “Some things never change.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the kind that felt more like a conversation than anything you could put into words. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, taking in the slight slouch of his shoulders, the loosened tie, the way his fingers curled against the railing like he was anchoring himself.

“I meant what I said in there,” you said softly, breaking the stillness.

His jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he might say something. But instead, he exhaled slowly, looking down at his hands.

“I know,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. “Aaron…”

He turned to you then, his dark eyes meeting yours, and for a fleeting moment, you saw it—something raw and vulnerable, something that felt like an echo of the feelings you had buried long ago.

And just like that, it was gone.

Because Aaron already knew what you were about to say.

And he wanted—God, he wanted—to tell you he felt the same way. That there had been nights when he couldn’t sleep, thinking about the way you’d looked at him during your prom dance. That there had been moments when he’d almost picked up the phone, only to stop himself because he was afraid of what it would mean. That even now, standing beside you on his wedding night, part of him wished things had been different.

But he couldn’t.

Not now. Not tonight.

So instead, he reached out and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than they should have.

“You always know what to say,” he said quietly, his lips twitching into a small, bittersweet smile.

You searched his face, hoping—praying—for something more. But he stepped back, the space between you suddenly feeling too wide and too small all at once.

“Come back inside,” he said, his voice soft. “They’ll miss you.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Okay.”

But as he walked back inside, you stayed behind, gripping the railing as your breath hitched in your throat.

Aaron had stopped at the doorway, his hand on the frame. For one fleeting second, he turned back to look at you, something heavy and unspoken in his eyes.

But he didn’t say it.

Because he knew that if he did, it would change everything.

And he couldn’t let himself do that.

So, with one final glance, he disappeared back into the glow of the reception, back to Haley, back to the life he had chosen.

You stayed on the balcony a little while longer, staring up at the stars, letting the weight of the moment settle over you.

Aaron loved you. You knew that now.

But sometimes, love wasn’t enough to rewrite the story.

And so, you turned and walked back inside, letting the door close behind you.

𐙚

2008

The coffee shop hadn’t changed.

It still smelled of roasted beans and cinnamon, the same tiny bell chimed above the door when someone walked in, and the old barista at the counter still greeted customers with a warm, knowing smile. It was one of those places that seemed untouched by time, as if the world could shift and change outside, but inside, everything remained the same.

You hadn’t been here in years. Not since before Aaron’s wedding.

And yet, as you stepped inside, the familiarity wrapped around you like an old memory.

You had been back in D.C. for a few days, just for work. It wasn’t meant to be anything more than a quick trip—a conference, a few meetings, and then back home. But something about the city had drawn you in, pulling at the threads of a past you thought you had let go of.

And apparently, fate wasn’t done with you yet.

Because there, sitting in the farthest corner of the café, was him.

Aaron Hotchner.

He looked different. Older, in a way that had nothing to do with age. His hair was shorter than you remembered, the sharp angles of his face even more defined. He looked good—too good—but there was something behind his eyes, a tiredness that hadn’t been there before.

You hesitated, debating whether or not to turn around and leave before he could see you. But it was too late.

Aaron looked up just as you took a step back, and the second his gaze locked onto yours, time seemed to slow.

His expression shifted from surprise to something softer, something almost unreadable. And then, before you could make a decision, he smiled—just a little, just enough to make your heart ache in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You took a breath and walked toward him.

“Hey, stranger,” you said, your voice lighter than you felt.

Aaron’s lips twitched, like he was suppressing a real smile. “I was starting to think you disappeared off the face of the Earth.”

You chuckled as you slid into the chair across from him. “I could say the same about you.”

There was a beat of silence. Not an awkward one, just a quiet moment of taking each other in.

“How long has it been?” he asked finally.

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Since your wedding.”

His expression flickered for a moment, but he covered it quickly, nodding. “Yeah. A long time.”

Another pause.

You weren’t sure how to bring it up—how to ask him how he was doing without bringing up her. The last time you had seen him, he had been standing at the altar, his hands in Haley’s as he vowed forever. And you had smiled, clapped along with everyone else, and then walked away, knowing deep down that something between you and Aaron had closed that day.

But now? Now, he was sitting here, alone.

“You look good,” you said instead. “Tired, but good.”

Aaron huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s a nice way of saying I look like hell.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

He took a sip of his coffee, watching you over the rim of his cup before setting it down. And then, just like that, his expression shifted again—more serious, more raw.

“I’m divorced.”

The words came so suddenly that it took you a moment to register them.

You blinked. “Oh.”

Aaron let out a breath, as if finally saying it aloud was both a relief and a weight at the same time. “It’s been over a half year now.”

Half year. And you had no idea.

You swallowed, trying to push past the sudden rush of emotions you couldn’t quite name. “I’m sorry, Aaron.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. It was… inevitable.” He leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face. “We tried. For a long time. But in the end, it just wasn’t working anymore.”

You wanted to ask what had happened. If it had been something specific, or if it had just been one of those things that slowly fell apart over time. But the way he was looking at you—calm, but tired—told you that he had already accepted it.

And maybe that was the hardest part.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, playing with the edge of your sleeve. “I mean… I know it’s not easy.”

Aaron nodded, his gaze dropping to his coffee. “No, it’s not. But it was the right thing.” He exhaled softly, then looked up at you again. “Enough about me. What about you? How’s life?”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t have an answer, but because you weren’t sure what to say. Your life had been full—work, travel, relationships that never seemed to stick—but sitting here with him, all of that seemed distant. Like another version of yourself had lived it.

“I’m good,” you said finally. “Busy, mostly. Traveling a lot for work.”

Aaron smirked. “Still running away from D.C.?”

You rolled your eyes. “I prefer the term ‘exploring my options.’”

That made him chuckle, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. Like you were still the same two people who had spent their high school years hiding out on rooftops and sneaking off to coffee shops to escape reality.

But things had changed.

He wasn’t the same boy you had fallen for all those years ago. And you weren’t the same girl who had spent too many nights wondering if he ever saw you the way you saw him.

Yet, somehow, the thread between you had never truly broken.

Aaron’s expression softened again, and before you could say anything else, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. After a few taps, he turned it toward you, showing you a picture.

A little boy with light hair and bright, curious eyes stared back at you, his smile so familiar it made your chest tighten.

“Is this…?”

“Jack,” Aaron said, and there was something different in his voice now. Something lighter. “He’s four now.”

You felt a smile pull at your lips as you studied the picture. “He’s adorable.”

Aaron chuckled, putting his phone away. “He’s amazing. Smart, stubborn, way too independent for his own good.” He shook his head fondly. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You watched him for a moment, the way his entire demeanor had changed. Even after everything—the divorce, the exhaustion written in the lines of his face—there was no mistaking the love he had for his son. It was in every word, in every expression.

And something about that made your heart ache even more.

“You’d love him,” Aaron added after a pause, looking at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

You met his gaze, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m sure I would.”

Neither of you said anything after that. You just sat there, in a coffee shop that had stayed the same, even when everything else had changed.

And for the first time in years, you let yourself wonder if maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end of the story after all.

𐙚

The few days in D.C. passed too quickly.

You and Aaron spent what little time you could together—coffee in the mornings, long conversations that stretched into the evening. It was strange how easily you fell back into each other’s rhythm, like time had never separated you at all.

But reality had a way of creeping back in.

The night before you left, you sat on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, the city lights glowing softly in the distance. Aaron had insisted on walking with you one last time, hands shoved in his pockets, his face unreadable.

“So,” he said after a long silence. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” you echoed, staring out at the reflecting pool.

Neither of you said what you were really thinking. That it wasn’t fair. That fate had brought you back together only to pull you apart again.

Aaron shifted beside you. “I should’ve called you years ago.”

You turned to him, surprised. His gaze was distant, his jaw tight.

“I thought about it,” he admitted, finally looking at you. “So many times. But I kept telling myself it had been too long. That maybe you’d moved on.”

Your heart ached at the confession.

“I would’ve answered,” you said softly.

His lips pressed together, like he wanted to say more but couldn’t bring himself to.

Instead, he reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. His grip was warm, solid, grounding.

Maybe, in another lifetime, this moment would’ve been different. Maybe you wouldn’t have had to say goodbye again.

𐙚

The night air was crisp as you stood outside your hotel, your bag resting at your feet. Aaron stood beside you, hands tucked into his coat pockets, the city lights casting a soft glow on his face.

“I feel like I should say something profound,” you said, offering a small, wry smile.

Aaron huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t have to.”

But there was something in his expression—something unreadable, something hesitant.

You exhaled, rubbing your hands together for warmth. “This was nice. Seeing you again.”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was.”

A beat of silence.

The car that would take you to the airport pulled up to the curb, but neither of you moved.

You looked up at him, and suddenly, the weight of it all settled in your chest. The fact that, after years apart, you had found each other again—only for you to leave. Again.

His gaze softened, and you could feel it—that pull, the invisible string that had always been there between you, stretching taut.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, he was closer. The warmth of his body cut through the cold night air, and your breath hitched as his hand barely, barely brushed against yours.

It would be so easy.

So easy to close the space, to lean in, to finally let go of all the years of missed chances and unspoken words.

Your heart pounded as you tilted your chin up ever so slightly, eyes flickering to his lips.

And for a moment, you thought—

But then, just as quickly as the moment came, Aaron took a step back.

His jaw tightened, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. “I should let you go,” he murmured, his voice quieter now.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. “Yeah.”

The door to the car opened, and you forced yourself to move, to pick up your bag and step away from him.

As you slid into the seat, you risked one last glance at him.

He was still standing there, hands in his pockets, watching you go.

And then the door closed, and you were gone.

𐙚

2009

It was late. Too late for a casual call.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up in the darkness of your hotel room. You were half-asleep, groggy as you reached for it, your brain sluggishly registering the name on the screen.

Aaron.

A strange feeling settled in your stomach as you sat up, clearing your throat before answering.

“Aaron?”

At first, there was nothing. Just silence and the sound of breathing—uneven, shaky.

You frowned, fully awake now. “Aaron? Are you okay?”

Then, finally, his voice. But it was different. Not the steady, composed Aaron Hotchner you had always known. This voice was hollow, cracked at the edges, barely above a whisper.

“She’s gone.”

Two words.

And yet, they carried a weight that nearly stole the breath from your lungs.

Your grip on the phone tightened. “What?”

Aaron inhaled sharply, but it sounded ragged. “Haley,” he murmured. “She’s… she’s gone.”

It hit you like a punch to the chest.

Haley.

You closed your eyes, your heart aching in a way you hadn’t expected. No matter what had happened between them—no matter the divorce, the years, the distance—she had been a part of his life, the mother of his child. And now, she was gone.

“Oh, Aaron…”

He didn’t say anything. And that silence—his silence—was almost worse than if he had broken down.

You could hear it in the way he was breathing, though. The way he was holding himself together by a thread.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” he admitted after a long moment, his voice barely there.

Your heart clenched.

“Aaron,” you said softly, leaning forward, as if that would somehow bring you closer to him. “Where are you?”

“Home.” Another pause. Then, quieter, “Jack is asleep.”

You shut your eyes. The thought of Jack—so small, so young—losing his mother made your chest tighten painfully.

“I’m coming,” you said without hesitation, already pushing the blankets off, already reaching for your suitcase.

Aaron exhaled, and you swore you heard the slightest waver in it.

“Okay,” he murmured.

That was it.

No protest. No telling you that you didn’t have to.

Just okay.

Because right now, he didn’t need distance. He didn’t need space.

He needed you.

And you would be there. Always.

𐙚

The flight to D.C. felt like the longest of your life.

You barely remembered packing. Barely remembered booking the ticket, rushing through the airport, or the restless way your fingers twisted in your lap during the flight. All you could think about was him.

The man who had always been steady, composed, unshakable. The man who, even in his darkest moments, never allowed himself to break.

But tonight, he had called you.

And that told you everything you needed to know.

By the time you arrived at his apartment, it was past midnight. The cab ride had been quiet, the city lights casting long shadows over the streets. When you stepped out in front of the building, you hesitated for just a moment, your heart pounding.

Then you walked inside.

The hallway leading to his door felt endless, every step heavier than the last. When you finally reached it, you took a deep breath and knocked softly.

It only took a few seconds for the door to open.

And the second you saw him, everything inside you shattered.

Aaron looked wrecked.

His shirt was wrinkled, his tie loosened and off-center, like he had pulled at it absentmindedly. His face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed, dark circles beneath them. He looked like a man who had lost something he couldn’t fathom living without.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, without thinking, without hesitation, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

Aaron didn’t move at first. He just stood there, stiff, like he wasn’t sure how to respond. Like he had forgotten what it meant to be held.

But then, slowly—so slowly—his arms came around you, his grip tightening as if he was afraid you’d slip away.

And that’s when you felt it.

The way his body shook against yours. The way his fingers curled into your jacket like he needed something to hold onto. The way his breath came out in a harsh, uneven exhale against your shoulder.

It was the closest thing to breaking you had ever seen from him.

And it crushed you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your throat tight, your eyes burning.

Aaron didn’t answer. He just held you tighter.

You stayed like that for a long time, standing in the doorway, wrapped in grief and something else—something unspoken, something that had always been there between you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes searched yours, something vulnerable in them that you had never seen before.

Then, in a voice so raw it barely sounded like him, he said, “She told me to take care of him.”

You swallowed, your heart aching. “Jack?”

Aaron nodded, blinking rapidly, his jaw tightening as he looked away. “She made me promise.” His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists like he was trying to pull himself back together. “But I don’t—”

He stopped, exhaling sharply. Then, softer, more broken, “I don’t know if I can do this alone.”

You didn’t hesitate.

“You’re not alone.”

Aaron’s gaze snapped back to yours, something unreadable in his eyes.

You reached for his hand, squeezing it. “I promise, Aaron. You’re not alone.”

For a moment, he just looked at you.

And then, finally—finally—he nodded.

And in that moment, something between you shifted.

Maybe it was the grief. Maybe it was the years of missed chances and unspoken words. Or maybe, it was just the simple fact that, no matter how much time passed, you would always find your way back to each other.

Even in the darkest of nights.

Even when the world felt unbearably heavy.

You would always be his person.

And deep down, you knew—he would always be yours.

𐙚

The first week after the funeral, you woke up to the sound of movement.

You rubbed your eyes, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the apartment. It took you a moment to register where you were—on the couch, still wrapped in the blanket from last night.

Then you heard it again. The soft rustling of fabric, the quiet click of a belt buckle.

You sat up immediately, pushing the blanket off as you spotted Aaron standing near the kitchen, already dressed in his suit.

Your stomach dropped.

“You’re going in?” you asked, voice still thick with sleep but laced with disbelief.

Aaron barely glanced at you as he adjusted his tie. “There’s a case.”

You stared at him. “Aaron, no. You just—”

“I can’t sit here,” he interrupted, his voice steady but hollow. “I can’t—” He stopped himself, pressing his lips together tightly before exhaling. “I need to work.”

Your heart clenched.

He was doing what he always did—burying himself in the job, using it as a shield, as something to focus on so he wouldn’t have to sit still and feel.

You stood, walking toward him. “You need more time,” you said softly.

Aaron finally looked at you then, and for the first time since the funeral, there was something sharp in his gaze. Not anger—just exhaustion, frustration.

“I don’t have time,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Jack needs stability. He needs normalcy. And if I don’t go back, if I don’t move, then—” He cut himself off again, clenching his jaw.

You swallowed hard, reaching out to touch his arm. “He needs you, Aaron. And you’re not ready—”

“I don’t have a choice,” he said quietly.

The weight in his voice made your chest ache.

You wanted to fight him on this. Wanted to tell him that he was being reckless, that he wasn’t a machine, that he needed to grieve before he shattered under the weight of it all.

But you knew Aaron.

You knew that if you pushed too hard, he’d only dig his heels in deeper.

So instead, you took a breath and shifted the conversation. “What about Jack?”

Aaron hesitated. “Jessica can take him for the day,” he said, but it sounded like an afterthought.

You shook your head. “No. Let me stay with him.”

Aaron blinked, clearly caught off guard. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to,” you said gently, giving him a look. “But I want to. He knows me. He’s comfortable with me. Let me be here for him while you—” You sighed, not wanting to finish that sentence.

While you run from your grief.

Aaron was quiet for a long time. His gaze flickered between you and Jack’s bedroom door, the weight of the decision settling over him.

Then, finally, he nodded.

“Okay.”

You let out a quiet breath, relieved that he wasn’t arguing. “Okay,” you echoed.

Aaron glanced at his watch, then back at you. There was something unreadable in his expression, something almost hesitant.

Then, before you could say anything else, he reached out, squeezing your hand briefly.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

𐙚

Jack woke up about an hour later, padding out of his room in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes.

When he saw you in the kitchen, his tiny brows furrowed. “Where’s Daddy?”

You crouched down to his level, keeping your voice soft. “He had to go to work for a little bit.”

Jack’s lip wobbled slightly, but he didn’t cry. “He was sad yesterday.”

Your heart squeezed.

“I know, buddy,” you murmured, brushing some of his messy hair back. “But he loves you so much. And he’s going to be home soon.”

Jack hesitated, then looked up at you. “Will you stay?”

You smiled gently. “Of course. We’re gonna have a fun day together, okay?”

Jack seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding. Then, in a small voice, he said, “Can we have pancakes?”

You let out a soft laugh. “Absolutely.”

Jack’s face brightened, and for the first time since you arrived, you saw a glimpse of something lighter in his expression.

And in that moment, you knew—no matter what happened, no matter how much Aaron tried to push forward too soon—you’d be here.

For Jack.

For Aaron.

For both of them.

Always.

𐙚

A month passed in the blink of an eye

The apartment was quiet.

Jack had fallen asleep hours ago, curled up in bed after insisting you read him his favorite book one last time before you left.

Now, it was just you and Aaron, sitting on the couch in the dim glow of the living room lamp, nursing cups of tea that had long gone cold.

Neither of you had said much for a while, just sitting in comfortable silence, knowing this was the last night before things changed again.

Aaron sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s going to be strange without you here.”

You smiled slightly. “You’ll manage.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Somehow.”

A beat of silence.

Then, without really thinking, you murmured, “I’m leaving my job.”

Aaron’s head turned sharply, his brows furrowing. “What?”

You let out a breath, staring down at your mug. “It’s… it became too much,” you admitted. “The hours, the pressure, the constant stress. I used to love it, but now it just feels like I’m running on empty all the time.”

Aaron was quiet, watching you carefully.

You exhaled, shaking your head. “I just… I don’t want my entire life to be about work anymore. I want something simpler. Something where I don’t wake up every morning feeling like I can’t breathe.”

Aaron’s gaze softened, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “I get that.”

You looked at him, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

Because he did get it.

Maybe better than anyone.

You smiled weakly. “I think I’m going to find something small. Something normal. Maybe work in a bookstore or a little office job—something where I can actually live my life instead of just surviving it.”

Aaron nodded slowly, considering your words. “That sounds… nice.”

You huffed a laugh. “You sound surprised.”

His lips twitched. “No. Just… I don’t think I’ve ever thought about what a normal life would look like.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You ever think about leaving the BAU?”

Aaron hesitated, looking down at his hands. “Sometimes.”

That surprised you. “Really?”

He exhaled. “I love what I do. But… I don’t know. Lately, I’ve started wondering if it’s sustainable. If it’s fair to Jack.”

You nodded, understanding.

Maybe neither of you had ever really stopped long enough to think about what else life could be.

You bit your lip, then nudged his arm lightly. “Maybe we should both find some sleepy little town and open a coffee shop.”

Aaron chuckled. “I’d be terrible at that.”

You smirked. “You’d be the serious owner who glares at customers for taking too long to order, and I’d be the one making sure we don’t get bad Yelp reviews.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “It’s a solid business model.”

You grinned, but then, after a moment, the smile faded, replaced by something softer. “I mean it, though. You deserve something easier, Aaron.”

His gaze flickered to yours, something unreadable in his expression.

“You do too,” he murmured.

A beat of silence.

Then, before the moment could stretch too long, you sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Well, first things first—I need to figure out what I’m doing next.”

Aaron nodded, but his gaze lingered on you, like he was committing this moment to memory.

Like maybe, for the first time, he was realizing that you wouldn’t always be here.

That tomorrow, you were leaving.

And neither of you knew when you’d be back.

𐙚

The next morning came too quickly.

You woke up before your alarm, the weight of the day pressing down on your chest before you even opened your eyes.

By the time you stepped out of your room, your suitcase already packed and waiting by the door, Aaron was in the kitchen making coffee. Jack sat at the table in his pajamas, sleepily pushing around pieces of cereal in his bowl.

Aaron glanced up when he saw you, his expression unreadable. “Morning.”

You forced a smile. “Morning.”

Jack perked up at your voice, but as soon as he remembered what today was, his little face fell. “You’re leaving.”

Your heart clenched.

You walked over, crouching down beside his chair. “I am, buddy,” you said softly. “But I’m going to come visit. And you can call me whenever you want, okay?”

Jack hesitated, then wrapped his arms around your neck in a tight hug.

You held him close, closing your eyes for a moment, soaking in the warmth of him. “I love you, kiddo,” you murmured.

“Love you too,” he whispered back.

When he finally pulled away, he wiped at his eyes but nodded, like he was trying to be brave. “Okay.”

You gave him one last squeeze before standing up, turning to Aaron.

He was watching you carefully, his hands wrapped around his coffee mug.

“Your flight’s soon,” he said quietly.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence.

Then, Aaron cleared his throat. “I’ll drive you.”

“Aaron—”

“It’s not up for debate,” he said, giving you a look. “Let’s go.”

You sighed, but you didn’t argue.

Jack waved from the door as you left, and you swore you saw his lip wobble, but he stayed put—just like you’d promised, he was strong.

𐙚

The drive to the airport was quiet.

Not uncomfortable. Just… heavy.

Neither of you seemed to know what to say.

When Aaron finally pulled up to the drop-off curb, he put the car in park and exhaled slowly. “You’ll text me when you land?”

You smiled faintly. “Of course.”

He nodded, gripping the steering wheel for a moment before finally turning to you. “You sure about leaving your job?”

You huffed a soft laugh. “I think so.”

Aaron studied you, then—before you could react—reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

The touch was so gentle, so unexpected, that you froze.

His hand lingered for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled away, clearing his throat.

“You’ll be okay,” he murmured.

Your chest ached. “You will too.”

Aaron exhaled, glancing away for a second before looking back at you. “Thank you. For everything.”

You swallowed hard. “You don’t have to thank me, Aaron.”

His jaw tightened, like there was something else he wanted to say.

Something he wouldn’t say.

Instead, he nodded once, his hand twitching slightly like he was debating whether to reach for you again. But he didn’t.

So you did.

You leaned in, wrapping your arms around him.

For a second, Aaron hesitated.

Then he let out a quiet breath and pulled you in, holding you tighter than he probably meant to.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you spoke.

And for just a moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist.

But then—too soon—it had to.

You pulled back, forcing a small smile. “I’ll see you, okay?”

Aaron nodded, but there was something in his eyes that made it hard to walk away.

Still, you grabbed your suitcase and turned toward the airport entrance.

But just before you stepped inside, you glanced over your shoulder—

And there he was, still sitting in the car, watching you.

Like he wasn’t ready to let you go.

Like maybe, deep down—

He never would be.

𐙚

2011

The bullpen was quiet. Most of the team had already gone home for the night, leaving only the faint hum of computers and the distant murmur of voices from other departments. The dim glow of Aaron Hotchner’s desk lamp illuminated the stacks of paperwork in front of him, but he wasn’t reading them.

His eyes were on the framed picture beside his computer.

It was a simple photo, but one that had somehow found a permanent place in his office. You and Jack, at the park. You were laughing, your head tilted back slightly as Jack clung to your side, his small arms wrapped around yours. It had been taken nearly two years ago, back when you had been staying in D.C. after Haley’s death—back when you had been his anchor without even realizing it.

His fingers traced the edge of the frame absentmindedly.

How had two years passed?

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t thought about you. In fact, that was the problem. He had never stopped thinking about you. It was in the quiet moments, in the spaces between work and home, in the memories that resurfaced when he least expected them.

He thought about you when Jack asked about you.

He thought about you when he reached for his phone late at night, only to stop himself before dialing your number.

He thought about you when he walked past the coffee shop you had loved in D.C., the one where you had made him take a break from his endless case files just to sit with you and drink overpriced lattes.

He thought about you, and every time he convinced himself to push it aside, it always crept back in.

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. He was being ridiculous. He had no right to feel this way after all this time.

And yet, the ache in his chest told him otherwise.

The knock on his office door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Hotch?”

David Rossi.

Aaron straightened slightly, clearing his throat as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Yeah?”

Rossi stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door behind him. His eyes flickered to the framed picture on the desk before settling on Aaron.

“You’re thinking about her again,” Rossi stated, not even posing it as a question.

Aaron’s jaw tensed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rossi scoffed, dropping into the chair across from him. “Please. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know when someone’s got something—or someone—on their mind.” He nodded toward the picture. “And you? You’ve been staring at that damn thing for the past twenty minutes.”

Aaron glanced at the photo again, feeling a tightness in his chest.

“I wasn’t—” He started to deny it, but Rossi’s knowing look stopped him.

“You miss her.”

It wasn’t a question.

Aaron inhaled deeply, pressing his lips together before finally exhaling. “…Yeah.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “I do.”

Rossi leaned forward slightly. “Then what the hell are you still doing here?”

Aaron frowned. “What?”

Rossi sighed, shaking his head. “Hotch, you’re one of the smartest men I know, but when it comes to your own feelings, you are clueless.” He pointed at him. “She left, and you let her go. But if you think she’s just gone from your life, then you’re fooling yourself.”

Aaron looked away, running a hand through his hair. “She moved on. She’s in New York, she has her own life now. I can’t just show up and—”

Rossi interrupted. “Why not?”

Aaron looked back at him.

Rossi’s expression softened slightly. “Tell me something. If you called her right now—if you told her you wanted to see her—do you really think she’d say no?”

Aaron opened his mouth, then closed it.

Because the truth was—he didn’t know.

He had spent so long convincing himself that he had no right to ask for more, that he had never even considered the possibility that you might have been waiting for him to say something.

Rossi sighed again. “Look, kid. Life doesn’t wait for you to figure things out. It moves on, whether you’re ready or not. And if you sit here for another two years convincing yourself you missed your chance, you’re going to wake up one day and realize that she really is gone.”

Aaron swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the thought.

“She’s still out there, Hotch,” Rossi said, his voice quieter now. “And something tells me she hasn’t stopped thinking about you either.”

Aaron’s fingers tightened around the frame in his hands.

“Go to her,” Rossi said simply. “Before it’s too late.”

For a long moment, Aaron didn’t say anything.

Rossi didn’t push. He just stood up, clapped Aaron on the shoulder, and left the office.

Aaron remained still, staring down at the picture again.

Go to her.

Before it’s too late.

The words echoed in his mind long after Rossi was gone.

And for the first time in nearly two years, Aaron wondered if maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance.

𐙚

The streets of New York were loud, alive with their usual rhythm—cars honking, people moving past each other in hurried steps, conversations blending into the background hum of the city. But Aaron barely noticed any of it.

His heart was pounding, his palms slightly clammy despite the cold air.

He had spent the entire flight convincing himself he was making a mistake. That he had no right to do this. That you had probably moved on, that maybe you had someone else now, that showing up like this was selfish.

But then, he had thought about what Rossi had said.

Before it’s too late.

And now he was standing in front of your coffee shop, staring through the large glass windows, his breath fogging slightly against the cold air.

There you were.

Moving behind the counter, your face lit up in a laugh as you spoke to a customer. You looked happy. Comfortable. Like you belonged here.

For a moment, he thought about walking away.

But then, as if sensing him, you turned toward the window.

And your eyes met his.

Your laughter faded, your lips parting slightly in surprise.

Aaron felt frozen in place, his breath caught in his chest as he saw the realization dawn in your expression.

Then, slowly, you stepped out from behind the counter and made your way toward the door.

The bell above the entrance chimed softly as you pushed it open, stepping outside onto the sidewalk, arms wrapped around yourself against the cold.

“Aaron?” Your voice was breathless, as if you couldn’t quite believe he was standing in front of you.

He swallowed hard, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “Hey.”

There was a beat of silence, the city moving around you, but in that moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked softly.

Aaron took a shaky breath. “I needed to see you.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, confusion flickering across your face. “After almost two years?”

“I know,” he admitted. “I know it’s been too long. And I should have come sooner. I should have said something sooner.” His throat tightened as he looked at you. “But I was afraid.”

You exhaled softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Afraid of what?”

His lips pressed together for a moment before he met your gaze again. “Afraid of losing you. Afraid that if I told you how I felt, I’d ruin everything.”

You stared at him, your breath catching. “Aaron…”

But he kept going, his voice raw, unguarded in a way he had never allowed himself to be before.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted. “Not after you left. Not after any of it. I tried. I told myself I had to let you go. That you had your own life now, and I had mine. But every time I thought I had moved on, I’d hear your voice in my head. I’d see something that reminded me of you, or Jack would ask about you, and it was like—” He let out a shaky breath. “It was like I was still reaching for something that was already gone.”

You swallowed, your eyes shining as you listened.

Aaron took a step closer, his voice lower now. “And then Rossi—he told me I needed to stop running from it. That I needed to come here before it was too late.” He exhaled, his eyes searching yours. “And he was right.”

You blinked up at him, your breath shallow.

Aaron hesitated for only a second before he took your hands in his, his grip warm, grounding.

“I love you,” he said, the words breaking free like a confession he had held back for too many years. “I’ve loved you for longer than I ever admitted to myself. And I’m done pretending I don’t.”

You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

For so long, you had wanted to hear those words. You had dreamed about this moment, imagined it in so many different ways. But now, standing here, with the weight of his confession settling between you, you realized something—

You had never imagined this.

The way his voice trembled with emotion. The way his eyes looked at you, full of something deep and unshakable. The way the city buzzed around you, but it felt like there was no one else in the world.

You felt tears welling in your eyes as you exhaled a quiet laugh, almost disbelieving. “You really came all this way… just to tell me that?”

Aaron smiled, just barely, but his voice was still raw with honesty. “Yeah. I did.”

Your lips parted slightly, your chest tightening with so much emotion you could barely breathe.

And then—

You didn’t think. You just moved.

You reached up, grabbing the collar of his coat, and pulled him down to you.

Aaron barely had time to react before your lips were on his, soft but urgent, years of unspoken words and unsaid feelings pouring into the kiss.

He inhaled sharply, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled you closer, his body instinctively leaning into yours.

And then—

The memory hit.

The prom.

The slow song, the way your hands had rested on his shoulders, the warmth of his hands on your waist. The way the world had faded until it was just the two of you, swaying gently, the room spinning in a blur of lights.

And the kiss.

The way it had been tentative, hesitant, the taste of something new and terrifying. The way neither of you had spoken about it afterward, too afraid of what it might mean.

Now, years later, the kiss was no longer hesitant. It was deep, full, a promise of everything that had been left unsaid for too long.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, your forehead rested against his.

Aaron let out a soft, shaky laugh. “That was—”

“Long overdue?” you finished for him, smiling softly.

He chuckled, his fingers brushing against your jaw. “Yeah.”

You exhaled, your voice quieter now. “I waited for you, you know.”

Aaron’s throat tightened. “I know.” His hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “And I’m so sorry I made you wait this long.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, just letting yourself feel the warmth of his touch, the way his breath mixed with yours in the cold air.

Then you looked at him again, your voice steady, certain.

“You’re here now.”

Aaron nodded, his lips curving into the softest smile. “I am.”

And this time, there was no doubt.

No hesitation.

No going back.

Just the two of you, standing in the middle of a busy New York street, finally getting it right.

Finally finding your way back to each other.

---

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x y/n #angst #angst with a happy ending #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotch hotchner

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shanefuckingscott · 3 days ago

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Jealous!SheriffGrayson 🎀🎀🎀

Grayson is jealous, and you find ways to make it up to her. 👮🏽‍♀️

Warning: Angst with comfort, Smut, Marcus 🤢, Sad Grayson, Cunnilingus, Over stimulation, Strap use, Switch!Grayson, Switch!reader, Not proofread

🚫Men and Minors DNI🚫

You and Grayson finally established a relationship after only 3 months of dating. She's at the age where she doesn't need much courting, but she'll gladly court you for as long as you want. But you don't make her wait too long before you finally said yes, and with that, she's yours, and you're hers.

Your relationship remains professional, and a secret during work to keep people from gossiping, and to keep her from losing her position. Only you, and some close friends know about your relationship, but your friends at work? You don't tell them. After a few of your colleagues gave you flirty comments, and shitty attempts to ask you out, because they thing you easy, she's suddenly thinking she isn't planning on keeping you secret for long, already planning a proposal to you, so you can get married, and people know you're hers.

She trusts you with all her heart. She's not even easily jealous, but the flirting has been getting too much for her. At first, she'd just scold them for being 'distracted' during work hours. Which was admittedly hypocritical of her, since she too was distracted because of you. Everytime she sees Marcus get a little too close to you, since he thinks you finally lose your crush on Grayson, he's been flirting with you tenfold now.

Grayson does not like this, one bit. The way Marcus' eyes linger on you for far too long. The way he winks at you, everytime you make eye contact with him, it makes her cringe, and pisses her off. "Marcus, in my office. Now." She demands. Often times she'd scold him of being distracted. Or make him take a walk outside. Or make him have his shifts when you finally get your break. But of course, she can't be too mad at him. He did have the right to ask you for lunch, but he doesn't have the right to outright flirt, and touch you.

You try your best to ignore him, he can't take no for an answer. You of course, reassure Grayson, when he does step out of line, and you can't do anything about it. He already tried breaking you once, and you don't want him to find out that you and Grayson are finally together, he might pull some shit.

You and Grayson both sigh in bed, to figure out what you're gonna do with it. Grayson can't just arrest him, or make him transfer somewhere else. She's quiet all night, looking at the ceiling. You pull her closer to you, as you sit up to look at her. "Are you alright, dear? You seem awfully quiet tonight." You saying, taking her hand, and giving it kisses from her knuckles, to her shoulders. She gives you a soft smile, for it to fall again, and she looks down. "My love... If you weren't with me, would you date Marcus?" She asked, her voice breaking. That question shook you. Grayson is an amazing woman, far greater than any man, or woman that courted you. You cup her cheek, your thumb rubbing the flesh under her eye, and make her look at you. She looked like she was about to cry.

"My love, what kind of question is that? That's ridiculous. There is no other person I'd want to be with. No one. Only you. You're far greater than any of them, you're speaking nonsense" You hush her, and wipe her tears away, as you comfort you wife from her thoughts that seemed to have consumed her. "You don't understand. Do you know how hard it is to see someone else look at you the way only I could? I'm sorry, dove, it's just, he's much younger than me. Don't you wanna be with someone your own age?" She asks with tears in her eyes.

The sight of her like this breaks you. Who knew the perfect woman in your eyes thought of herself like that. Like she was the one out of your league. You didn't know that all this time, that she had her own fears. She has her own insecurities. You look at her with tears in your eyes, and you pull her head onto your chest, and pull her in for a tight hug.

You're both crying messes now. She isn't supposed to feel this way, she isn't supposed to feel like there's someone else, other than her.

No. You're not going to make her feel like this for long. You're going to make this up to her. You sniffle and you pull away from Grayson a little bit. You give her a soft smile, as you look into her eyes. "No, Gray. You're perfect. And you wanna know the best part? You're mine. And I'm all yours. No one in this world makes me feel like you do. No one. You'll all I want, Grayson. And I'm going to prove it." You say. You wipe her tears, and kiss her face. You get off her lap, and you get into the blanket. This action surprised her, and confused her a little, until she finally got a grasp of what you were doing.

"I'm going to make you feel like the best woman in the world, my love." You say, as you go down on her. You take her boxers off, and you spread her legs. She lets out low and breathy moans, as you take a long stripe of her cunt. You can feel her shiver, and she let's out a whimper. "Oh, my love, I love you so much" She says to you, combing your hair with her hand, as she takes control of the pace.

you stick your tongue out, and let her fuck herself with your tongue, she throws her head back, and you smile while licking, and sucking on her clit, her moans getting louder and deeper, her breath getting faster and faster, "Right there love, I'm close" She says, pumping your head up and down, as she gets closer to her climax. Your tongue keeps working on your wife, and you can feel her tense up.

"F-fuck, I'm almost gonna—" Her grip on your hair got tighter, as her grinds on your tongue, getting slower, she let put a breathy moan, and it sounded like music to your ears, She had tears in her eyes, and you kept your tongue on her, going slow. At this point she was feeling a little over stimulated, as you keep licking her core, she's panting her breath, her face tuning a shade of red from the pressure, and thee silkiness of your tongue. She attempts to pull away, the feeling getting a bit too much, but you look at her, and grab her waist, and start licker her faster again.

Her face scrunched, mouth wide open, her eyes closing, she feels close again. Kept eating her out, as she attempts to pull back, you pull her back in, she's grinding and grinding, your face now soaked in her juices, her body rocked, as she came in your mouth, her body was shaking, her eyes shut, and she threw her head back.

You licked her clean, and she was still a little shakey. You were about to grab a towel, when she pulled you back, and pulled you into a deep kiss, Her hands on your waist, and yours on her shoulder, as you pull on her hair slightly. She puller your shirt off, and she took off hers, as she started sucking, and playing with your tits. You moaned, and pulled her closer to your chest, as she moves her hands on your ass, and flipped you over. "Hmm, Sheriff~" You moan, and she gets back up to suck and nibble on your ear. "Hmm, you're mine?" she asks. You could feel the vibrations of her voice, as she leans in, and sucks on your neck. You whimper by that action, she knows where your sweet spots are, and she isn't afraid to explore them all. "A-all yours, baby. All y-ours!! You say as you whine.

She stood up to put on her harness, and she stands there with a purple 8inch cock. She snickers, and makes her way to you. "God princess, you make me feel young again, you know that?" She teases in your ear, and you smile at her. Your smile immedietly turned into an 'O' face, as she fills you up with her dick, and she slowly thrusts inside you. She's looking at you with a satisfied look in her eye, as she bites her lip. She puts her mouth on yours, as her tongue makes her way into your mouth. You suck on her tongue, as you moan, and your eyes struggle to stay open. She smiles through the kiss, and sher thrusts are getting faster and harder.

You feel a knot in your stomach, that's when you know you feel close. Your wails getting louder as you moan her name. She's pounding you so deep, you're taking all of her in at once. Your body feeling tense, you whip your head back, your face full of bliss, as she pounds and pounds into you, her small moans, turning you on even more. You pull her into your chest, as you feel a surge of pleasure, and ecstacy run through you, your body convulsing, your body hunching over, as you wail through your orgasm.

Only she can make you feel this way. You lose your mind, she fuck you so good. You pull her into a passionate kiss, your body feels calmer now, your breath still hitching, you pull away to catch your breath. She thrusts a little more in you, before she pulls out, and collapses on top of you.

You both catch your breath. You held her closer to your chest with one hand, and played with her hair on the other. You kiss her hair, and you smile at her. "I love you, Grayson." you tell the older woman. She looked up at you, and smiled. "I love you too, my love."

You both talked things through on what to do with Marcus, and within a couple months, she proposed to you. You make your relationship public now, and Marcus backs off, since now, you are engaged to your one true love. Of course you still have to act professional at work, but you keep a picture frame of the both of you on your desk. Now when someone tries and flirt with you, you just show them your ring, and go to your fiancé.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

This one's a roller coaster, huh? Fluff, angst, and smut, heh. Next fic about Grayson, I kinda wanna write some Domestic!Grayson a little more. Or some Jealous!Sevika with smut hehe. what do you think?

Also, here was the comment that requested this heh, hope it's to your liking! @fuzzyautumninmetal

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chlosology · 1 day ago

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ANGEL TO ME . – m. atsumu x gn!reader

"i'm leaving." "i know."

exes to lovers, second chance romance, sfw, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, miscommunication, blood, hospitals (nothing srs dw), atsumu-centric, 3rd person omniscient pov, yelling, passionate & angry confessions, lots of emotions running high !!, yearning and pining, & more I'll add as it goes on..

send an ask or comment to join taglist !

moodboard | playlist

meet the characters... vol. 1 | vol. 2

prologue..

chapter 1..

chapter 2..

tba

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aubvrns · 17 hours ago

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just on time, sweetheart

| wanda maximoff

Synopsis - You were running late because you missed your alarm. Who knew that a simple mishap could be met with connections from the past?

Note - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

You weren't the type of student to be irresponsible.

You just happened to miss the aggravating sound of your alarm. It was just one of those mornings where your blanket feels much softer than it was when you slept. You bolted through the university halls, your bag bouncing against your back as you struggled to catch your breath. Your alarm betrayed you, and now sprinting to your second period, a strict voice cuts the uncomfortable silence.

"You're late, Miss Y/L/N."

You cursed under your breath and turned around, facing the disapproving gaze of Professor Fury. You had no excuses, not really. No one would believe that your alarm clock had miraculously decided to rebel against you this morning.

"Guidance office," The professor ordered, tapping his pen against his clipboard.

You groaned inwardly. Just great, you thought.

You turned on your heels and dragged yourself towards the guidance office, mood already sour. The last thing you needed was another lecture about punctuality and responsibility. As you pushed the heavy door open, you barely glanced at the person seated inside—until your gaze locked onto a pair of all-too-familiar green eyes.

Wanda Maximoff.

Your breath hitched, like you forgot how to breath. You heart slammed against your ribs, and for a moment, you wondered if the universe was playing some kind of cruel joke on you. The girl who had once whispered forever into her skin.

The girl who had shattered you. The girl who was now sitting right across from you, looking just as stunned.

A beat of silence stretched between them—thick, heavy, suffocating.

Then, the Dean cleared his throat. "Miss Y/L/N, since you have time to be late, you have time to be useful. Our new transfer student, Miss Maximoff, needs a tour of the campus. You’ll be her guide for the day."

Your blood ran cold.

The Dean continued, oblivious to the storm brewing between you two. "You'll show her around, make sure she knows where everything is. Understood?"

You forced herself to nod. Words were a foreign concept right now, especially when Wanda’s gaze was still piercing into her, unblinking, unreadable.

The Dean dismissed himself, and before you could think of an excuse, you found yourself stepping out into the hallway with Wanda right beside you. The silence stretched, clinging like ghosts.

Finally, Wanda spoke. "You look different."

You let out a humorless chuckle. "To you, maybe."

Wanda flinched, just barely, but you caught it. And for the first time in years, you felt something close to satisfaction.

It was going to be a long day.

The tour was hell.

Every hallway, every classroom—they all held the weight of things left unsaid, of a past neither of them had completely buried. You led Wanda through the university, pointing out the library, the gym, the best place to get coffee. You kept your words clipped, distant, careful.

You didn’t want to remember. But memories had a funny way of creeping in, uninvited.

"Do you still drink too much coffee?" Wanda asked suddenly, her voice softer than before.

You clenched your jaw. "Some things never change."

A flicker of something crossed Wanda’s face— regret? Guilt? You weren’t sure, and you didn’t care to find out.

"You were always late in high school too," Wanda mused. "I used to wake you up."

You swallowed hard. "Well, you’re not here to do that anymore, are you?"

The redhead didn’t respond, but you felt her gaze linger. It was the same way she used to look at you—like she saw through the walls you tried to build. Like she still remembered.

You hated it. Because you remembered too.

The remembrance of Wanda’s laughter in the morning, the way she used to tug you closer under the covers, whispering nonsense just to make you smile. You remembered Wanda’s hands, warm and certain, tracing constellations on your skin. You remembered the way Wanda had said, “I love you,” like it was a promise.

A promise that she had broken.

You clenched your fists, blinking back the sting behind your eyes. You wouldn't give Wanda the satisfaction of knowing you still cared.

You didn't.

Not anymore.

The tour ended at the courtyard, beneath the massive oak tree where students gathered between classes. It was the kind of place that should’ve been peaceful. But with Wanda beside you, the air felt suffocating.

"You don’t have to act like this, you know," Wanda said finally, her voice quiet.

You exhaled sharply. "Like what?"

"Like I never meant anything to you."

You turned to face her, something sharp curling in your chest. "You broke up with me, Wanda. You fell for someone else. What exactly do you expect from me?"

Wanda flinched, and you hated that she still cared enough to notice.

"Vision wasn’t—" Wanda hesitated, then sighed. "I thought you never took us seriously.”

"You thought wrong."

The words came out colder than you intended, but you didn’t regret them. Wanda searched your face, your expression unreadable. "I’m sorry."

You almost laughed. "You don’t get to be sorry." And just like that, the dam inside her cracked just a little.

Because the truth was, you had stayed. You had waited, you had hoped. You had watched as Wanda chose someone else, as if everything meant nothing. And now, she was supposed to pretend like everything was fine? Like the past didn’t still dig its claws into your heart?

You wouldn’t give Wanda the satisfaction. So instead, you turned on her heels and walked away. You walked furiously, each step slowly detaching yourself from the past

“Y/N, please.”

You didn’t look back. You refused to let yourself be vulnerable again.

But you knew Wanda’s was on your back, lingering like a wound that had never truly healed. Like an echo of something that still, somehow, refused to fade.

The wind was colder than usual, sending a shiver down your spine as you hurried across campus. The weight of Wanda’s gaze still lingered on you like a phantom touch, unwelcome and yet impossible to ignore.

You had thought you were over this. Over her.

You had spent years convincing herself that the past was just that—the past. But the second you saw Wanda sitting in that office, looking at her like she wasn’t a shattered remnant of what they once were, something inside her cracked. Not Wanda looking at her like she regretted it. Like she missed her.

You shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. You weren’t going to do this. You weren’t going to let Wanda drag you back into a storm you barely survived the first time.

As you reached the hallway towards your locker, you heard your name.

"Y/N."

An all-too familiar voice called you. You clenched your jaw before turning, already knowing who you’d see.

Wanda stood a few feet away, arms crossed, shifting on her feet like she was hesitating. You arched a brow. "What do you want?"

Wanda hesitated, then sighed. "You’re mad."

You let out a hollow laugh. "Mad? No. That would mean I still care."

A flicker of something passed across Wanda’s face—hurt, maybe. "You never used to lie to me," Wanda murmured, almost like it was an afterthought.

You inhaled sharply. "That was before you made me question everything that came out of your mouth."

Silence stretched between them. The kind that wasn’t comfortable anymore.

"I didn’t want to do this here," Wanda muttered, running a hand through her hair. "But I don’t want to keep pretending either."

You scoffed. "That’s rich, coming from you." Wanda flinched, and for a moment, you almost felt guilty.

"You really think I didn’t love you?" Wanda asked, voice quieter now, like she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

Your heart clenched, but you forced herself to stay distant. "I think that whatever we had wasn’t enough for you."

Wanda’s jaw tensed. "That’s not fair."

You took a step forward, and before you could stop herself, the words spilled out. "You left me, Wanda. You left us. And for what? Someone who didn’t even know you the way I did? Someone who didn’t—" She cut herself off, swallowing hard.

Wanda’s gaze softened. "Y/N…"

"Don’t," you sternly said.

Because if Wanda said your name like that again—like you still mattered—you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep standing.

"I never stopped loving you."

You clenched your fists. You didn’t believe it, because if you did, it would destroy you all over again.

For days, you did your best to avoid Wanda.

You took different routes to class, skipped places you knew Wanda might be, and buried herself in your studies. It should’ve been easy.

But then came the moments in between.

A glimpse of red hair across the courtyard. The sound of laughter that sounded too much like Wanda’s. The feeling of her eyes lingering on you when you weren’t looking. You hated how much space Wanda still took up in her mind.

Even now, as you sat in the back of the lecture hall, you could feel it. The ache of something unresolved. And then, as if the universe enjoyed watching you suffer, the professor spoke.

"You’ll be working in pairs for this project," he announced. "I’ll be assigning the partners."

You barely heard the names being called. You were too busy trying to focus on your breathing. There were at least twenty students in this class. There was no way you would get partnered with her.

"And lastly," the professor continued, flipping a page. "Y/L/N and Maximoff."

Your stomach dropped. The room blurred at the edges as you slowly turned your head, but Wanda was already looking at you.

And the worst part, she didn’t even look surprised.

"I can switch partners," you said as soon as class ended, already standing from your seat.

Wanda caught your hand, feeling her slightly caress your wrist, just like how she used to. "No, you won’t."

The touch burned. Not in the way it used to, soft and safe. But in a way that made you feel like she was drowning in everything she had tried to forget.

You pulled your arm back. "This isn’t going to work."

Wanda tilted her head. "Why? Because you still hate me?"

You exhaled sharply. "Because I don’t trust you."

For a second, something flickered in Wanda’s eyes— hurt, maybe. But then she straightened. "We don’t have to like each other to work together."

You clenched her fists. "Fine. But don’t expect anything more from me."

A small, bitter smile tugged at Wanda’s lips. "I never do."

You turned away before Wanda could see the way that sentence wrecked you. Because once upon a time, you had given Wanda everything. Every piece of yourself.

And in the end, it still hadn’t been enough.

You had been sitting beneath the old oak tree, headphones in, pretending to study. But the second Wanda sat down beside you, everything inside you tensed. Your eyes didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge her. Maybe if you ignored Wanda long enough, she would just disappear from your life.

"Are you going to avoid me forever?" Wanda’s voice was quiet, but there was a sharpness underneath it.

You sighed, closing your book. "I don’t see why it matters to you."

"Of course it matters." Wanda hesitated, then softer, "You still matter."

You clenched her jaw. "Don’t," you warned, turning to face Wanda for the first time in days. "Don’t say things you don’t mean."

Wanda exhaled, looking down at her hands. "That’s the problem, Y/N. I meant everything."

You scoffed, bitter. "Right. You meant it when you said you loved me. And then you meant it when you chose someone else."

Wanda flinched but didn’t look away. "You think that’s what happened?"

You stared at her, feeling something in your chest twist painfully. "Isn’t it?" A silence stretched between them—thick, heavy, suffocating.

And then, Wanda spoke.

"I never fell out of love with you." The words were barely above a whisper, but they hit you like a thunderclap.

Your breath caught, your heart pounding as you forced herself to stay still. "Then why?" you asked, your voice almost breaking. "Why did you leave me for him?"

Wanda swallowed hard, looking at you like she wanted to reach out, but didn’t. "Because I thought I had to."

She let out a shaky breath. "You never saw it, but my family was struggling. My father lost his job, my mother was barely holding things together, and I was scared. Vision—he had connections, opportunities. My mother thought if I was with him, I’d have a better future. A stable life. And I was stupid enough to believe that maybe, if I forced myself to feel something for him, I wouldn’t have to lose everything else." Wanda looked away, blinking quickly.

"But I never loved him, Y/N. Not the way I loved you."

You felt like the ground had been pulled out from beneath you. "You broke my heart," she whispered, voice unsteady. "And you didn’t even tell me why."

"I know," Wanda said, voice thick with regret. "And I’m sorry. I’ve been sorry every single day since I walked away."

You inhaled sharply, gripping the edges of your book as if it could keep you steady. You wanted to be angry, to hold on to the bitterness you had nurtured for so long. But now, the truth sat between them, raw and undeniable, unraveling every wall she had built.

And maybe that was the worst part of all.

Because despite everything, despite the pain, despite the years of silence and regret— you still loved her. And you didn’t know if you could stop.

"I need you to know something," Wanda said, voice steady despite the hesitation in her eyes.

"I didn’t come here expecting you to forgive me. I didn’t transfer here hoping we’d just go back to how we were. I know I hurt you, Y/N. And if you never want to see me again after this, I’ll understand. But I can’t leave things the way they are. Not again."

You swallowed, heart in your throat. "Wanda—"

"I love you," Wanda said, voice breaking just slightly. "I never stopped."

You felt something inside her shatter. The walls you had spent so long building crumbled in an instant, leaving nothing but the undeniable truth of what had always been. You could feel the weight of your own feelings pressing against your ribs, too big to contain.

And then, before you could stop herself, you reached for Wanda.

You felt Wanda freeze, breath hitching as your fingers brushed against her wrist—tentative, testing. And then, slowly, Wanda exhaled, tilting her head just slightly, waiting.

One second, there was space between you two, and the next, Wanda was pulling you closer, warm foreheads nearly touching. You could feel Wanda’s breath against your lips, warm and familiar, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Tell me to stop," Wanda whispered, voice trembling. "And I will."

You swallowed hard, hands tightening against Wanda’s jacket. "I don’t want you to." And that was all it took.

Wanda closed the distance, and the second your lips met. You felt the weight of every year, every unspoken word, every heartbreak melt into the kiss. It was desperate and soft and everything in between, full of the years you had lost and the love that had never really left.

When you finally pulled away, Wanda rested her forehead against yours, breathing hard. "I don’t deserve this," she murmured.

You sighed, closing your eyes. "Maybe not. But I think we deserve a second chance."

Wanda let out a soft, shaky laugh, pressing another gentle kiss to your soft lips. "Then let’s not waste it this time."

And just like that, the ghosts of what once was this puddle of hurt finally began to fade.

You weren’t sixteen anymore, lying under the stars and making promises you couldn’t keep.

But maybe this time, you would.

Maybe this time, forever wouldn’t be a lie.

#valwrites .ᐟ #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #second chance romance #angst #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #fluff

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discordantwords · 2 days ago

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Golden Ticket

Years after an odd, gruesome, and highly publicised breakdown ruined his career, a disgraced candymaker has abruptly reopened his factory. His motives are shrouded in mystery, something that only serves to inflame the curious public. To celebrate his triumphant return, he launches a contest: five golden tickets hidden at random in chocolate bars distributed throughout London. The lucky recipients of those tickets are promised an experience they will never forget.

And so, on one cold morning in January, five winners gather to claim their prize. John Watson is among them.

_____

Chapter 1 is now posted!

Here it is at last, the not-so-cracky crackfic that has been haunting me for the majority of the last decade. It should end up being around 10 chapters judging by my outline, but that may change.

#sherlock #johnlock #golden ticket #crackfic treated seriously #willy wonka au #angst with a happy ending #wip

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vaguely-humanoid-form · 2 days ago

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maybe I haven't been looking at the sky

post-sonic 3 fic about stone. stobotnik too. oh yeah baby it's time for some pain.

word count is a bit under 3.6k

featuring: grief like so much grief, lots of hurt, a smidgen of comfort, second-person narration, so many goddamn timestamps, did I mention hurt, acknowledgement of shadow the hedgehog being like an actual teenager, shadow the hedgehog being kind of like a weird cat, the smallest hint of sonadow, and, of course, hurt.

have fun! >:3

p.s.: the title is from Maud Gone by Car Seat Headrest because I like that song and it fits too well

June 24, 2024, 3:26 AM

You wake up.

You don't immediately open your eyes, though, because if you stay in the darkness, you can pretend that everything is alright. You can pretend that nothing's changed.

You can pretend he's still here.

You open your eyes.

It's still dark, and you can only just barely make out the hotel room ceiling above you.

You can hear the soft pitter-patter of the London rain against the window.

You spare a glance at the clock on the bedside table.

You know you won't be able to fall asleep.

Four hours of rest is enough, anyway.

You get up.

You take a shower.

Your reflection in the mirror seems to bore holes through your skull.

You brush your teeth, and you get dressed.

You work, because you have nothing else to do.

You go to get shitty hotel coffee and breakfast.

On instinct, you grab two cups.

You decide you don't want coffee anymore.

June 24, 2024, 12:58 PM

Your lunch is tasteless, and not just because it's British.

You think you would've laughed at that only 24 hours ago.

You don't think about if he would've.

You don't have much to work on.

Your hands itch. Everything feels so still. So static.

You try not to think about it. You try to think about anything else.

You think about how cold it is for a summer day.

You think about the smell of rain on the sidewalk.

You don't look at the sky.

You count your steps to fill your mind with something, anything.

It takes you precisely 673 steps to get back to your hotel from the lunch spot.

You don't think about how odd it feels to walk so slowly.

You don't think about how lonely you are.

You don't think about the Crab sunk in the Thames.

You don't think about him.

June 24, 2024, 7:31 PM

It's been 24 hours since it happened.

You feel empty.

You feel empty and sweaty and gross despite the wind chill and you shower again.

Your reflection stares at you again. It accuses you, blames you. It says it's your fault.

In its eyes, you can almost see something like him.

You cover the mirror.

You get yourself ready for bed, and you lay there under the hotel duvet, air conditioner blasting, and you shiver, but you don't get up to change it.

The Doctor prefers it cold, so–

You stare at the ceiling. It looks blurrier than usual.

You don't fall asleep for another few hours.

June 30, 2024, 1:08 PM

Montana is certainly better than London. At least, you'd say so.

It was a good idea to keep paying the lease on the Mean Bean. It's something you know.

You can't decide whether the familiarity makes you feel better or worse.

At least G.U.N. doesn't want anything to do with you, which you are more than welcome to.

Your “house,” if it can even be called that, what with its studio apartment style, in the back of the Mean Bean feels foreign to you, but the warmth feels nice.

The café stays cold.

You say it's to save money on the heating bill.

You were always good at pretending.

July 23, 2024, 4:23 PM

It's been exactly one month.

The hedgehog visits you today.

You know you should be plotting against him. You should be planning your revenge. You should be scheming to get rid of him once and for all–

But you're just so tired.

And in the end, he didn't want what happened, either.

He smiles at you as he orders a hot chocolate, but you can see the tightness in his face.

You bring up the other hedgehog, Shadow, and he falters for a moment.

You don't smile, not really, but your face softens as you come to an understanding.

You can't talk about him, but listening to Sonic talk about Shadow helps to dull the pain for a moment.

Before he leaves, Sonic gives you a sad smile, and tells you he's sorry about the Doctor.

Your throat closes up.

You stand still as the door opens and closes.

Your hands are shaking as you close.

August 16, 2024, 1:15 PM

Ever since he visited you the first time, Sonic has come back every other day for a hot chocolate and a chat.

The kid seems to always have something to say. You suppose he's hyperactive in many ways.

He's nice to you, and a part of you hates it, but you can't get yourself to get rid of the kid. Even if he says he stops by to check on how you're doing, you know it's helpful for him, too.

Deep down, you feel guilty for commiserating with the enemy. The guilt is something you opt to push down, though, because it makes you think of him.

You're interrupted when Sonic walks through the door with his human quasi-father in tow. Tom, you think his name is.

If you're honest, he looks like shit. His arm is in a cast and he's walking with a slight limp. The bags under his eyes are nothing to scoff at, either, but he gives you a soft smile.

He only orders a water, and drinks it slowly as Sonic chatters at his side about the shop.

You know he's been worried about Tom, and you're glad to see he's alright, but a twinge of resentment bites at you.

Why couldn't have you gotten a happy ending, too?

August 27, 2024, 1:00 PM

He's back again, and he brought his friends: the fox and the echidna.

You freeze for a moment when you see the fox. The conversation you had with him plays in the back of your mind and you relentlessly shoo it away.

The echidna is still annoying, but it's funny to see him order a shot of espresso and then immediately choke when he takes one sip.

When you're not trying to fight each other, they're good kids. You appreciate the effort they're making, at the very least.

It's nice to have noise to fill up the air. Helps quiet the thoughts a little bit, especially when the shop doesn't get much traffic these days.

Chatting with the alien children gives you something to do, too, since you can't do latte art anymore.

Your hands start shaking the moment you try.

So, you listen to them talk: teasing each other, making bad jokes, ranting about this or that.

When they leave, they all say goodbye, and while the silence is still suffocating, you're finding it slightly easier to breathe.

September 10, 2024, 8:01 AM

It's his birthday today, and you can't get yourself out of bed.

You can't even properly cry. Quiet tears roll down your face and stain your pillow.

You can't get back to sleep, either. You don't know if you would even want to. You don't know if you could bear to see his face in your dreams.

You stare at the brick wall, bare of photos or posters or plans, and you can't get yourself to look away.

September 10, 2024, 1:30 PM

The door to your “house” opens and you jump from your bed.

Team Sonic broke into your house.

You would be angry. You should be angry. But you can't muster up the energy.

Sonic says something that you don't register, and Knuckles proudly holds out a messily-made cupcake in front of him.

When you get a closer look…

Oh.

It's for the Doctor.

When you look up, Sonic is giving you that same sad smile he did the first time he came to the cafe. He says he knows how you've been going through a hard time, and that since today is the Doctor’s birthday, he wanted to do something special.

It takes everything in your being to not burst out sobbing in front of the kids.

You all sit around the cupcake and sing to it.

You falter on the name. They don't seem to mind.

You can't bear to eat any of the cupcake, so you stick it in the fridge.

The second those kids are out the door, you cry so hard you can barely stand.

September 12, 2024, 1:12 PM

Tails bursts through the shop door, startling you and the single customer sitting at a table in the corner.

He starts talking, so fast you can only make out a few words.

Before you can tell him to slow down, Sonic runs in after him, smiling brighter than the sun and presenting to you…

…Shadow?

You nearly short-circuit.

How is he alive?

You ask as much, and they all shrug their shoulders, minus Shadow who stands there staring at you without expression.

Apparently, Shadow has some sort of minor amnesia. He can't remember much immediately before…

Well.

But, still, he's alive.

And that sparks something deep in your chest.

You wouldn't dare to believe anything. You know he's… gone.

But a tiny, near molecular voice in the back of your head says what if?

And you can't give into it, but the voice, small as it is, nestles itself in between your cerebrum and cerebellum.

Back to reality, the alien children have decided that Shadow will stay with you.

Their home doesn't have the room for yet another anthropomorphic hedgehog in it, apparently.

You don't seem to have a say in the matter.

You can't say you mind too much.

September 12, 2024, 4:25 PM

You take him in and set up a futon in a clear area of your house.

You give him a tour, which really isn't much considering there are only two actual rooms.

He follows you around, nodding or shaking his head slightly whenever you ask him a question. He's quiet. Shy, even.

You make a simple dinner in silence, and he mumbles a thank you when you hand him his plate.

He falls asleep while you're working, and when you get a closer look at him…

…Did he always look that young?

Minus the 50 years he spent in stasis, he couldn't have been more than 15. Maybe 16, if you're being generous.

His brows furrow in his slumber, painfully familiar, and you're suddenly reminded of the fact that he is, in a way, a Robotnik.

You draw in a sharp breath and blink away the stinging in your eyes.

Maybe you'll sleep early.

September 23, 2024, 1:08 PM

Three months.

It's been three months since it happened, and the pain has only barely dulled.

You're starting to wonder if the coping mechanism of bottling everything up as much as you possibly can isn't working as well as you thought it would.

Shadow has opened up more, at least. He's still quiet and sometimes stares at you, wide-eyed and expressionless, but you've had a good few conversations with him.

You've shown him how to operate some of the coffee machines, even if he isn't quite tall enough to reach them very well on his own.

Every day you spend with him, the more it sets in just how young he is.

For the first week or two after… what happened, you resented him for being a part of it all. But now?

You just see a scared kid.

Team Sonic has been back to the Mean Bean a few times since Shadow arrived. He's incredibly socially awkward and is not one for idle chit-chat, but you've seen a hint of a smile on his face a couple times, and that's enough for you.

His memories have been returning slowly. Despite the voice screaming at you at every waking moment, you don't want to hold out hope. You don't want to be crushed again when the inevitable reality hits you that he is really gone.

You remember when it happened, when three months ago, you watched the Doctor dedicate his last words to you.

You remember going through every stage of grief and then some all at once.

You remember thinking you were done with that process, then, after it hit you like a freight train in all of 20 seconds.

You checked into a hotel, perfectly calm. You went up the elevator, fine. You unlocked the door to your room, ok.

Then you shut the door behind you and realized you'd accidentally gotten a room with two beds.

You remember the taste of bile at the back of your throat.

You blink and you're back where you were, alien children conversing at the counter in your coffee shop. You realize you've been holding the same empty mug and towel for a while.

When you set them down, your palm is indented from the fabric.

October 12, 2024, 2:00 PM

Shadow has warmed up to everything a lot more since he arrived last month.

You've seen him shoot back straight espresso like it was water, which drove Knuckles insane, and, for whatever reason, made you glow with pride.

He's slowly started asking for things directly: meals, things to do, what have you. You finally got to make that revenge guac for you both. It was great.

You had to try to not choke on it.

He's insanely excited for Halloween. It's refreshing to see him like this. He's usually a pretty doom-and-gloom type of guy, and there's a pain within him that you resonate with. But right now, he looks so happy, asking if you can decorate the cafe for the holiday. Of course, you do.

His memory is almost fully restored, too. You're happy about it, but it also instills an intense anxiety in you.

You aren't sure which situation it is that's making you feel like this.

Maybe both.

It'll be 4 months in a little under a week.

You don't think it's stopped hurting.

When you get a moment to be alone, it all comes rushing back at you, and suddenly you feel like you did when it first happened.

But the hurting isn't that bad all the time. Not anymore.

It settles in your chest when you're distracted by something, knocking on your ribs when you're reminded of it.

It's constant, like a bruise that just won't go away.

But it's manageable.

What is less manageable, however, is the voice.

Every day that passes, the voice gets louder, crawling further into your brain and making itself known.

Hell, it's even shown up in your dreams.

As annoying as it is, though, it makes you think about your grief beyond what you had been.

Whenever you have one of the dreams, you wake up and shower, and sit in the water and think.

Mostly, your brain has focused on his absence. The fact that he's… gone.

But, then you start to wonder.

Would this have happened if you'd told him? Would he be gone if he knew how you felt?

Would that have even changed anything?

You have to stop before you spiral too far. Asking questions is dangerous.

You convince yourself that it's just the shower water running down your cheeks, even if your eyes burn.

October 23, 2024, 1:02 AM

You wake up.

You don't immediately open your eyes, though, because if you stay in the darkness, you can pretend that everything is alright. You can pretend that nothing's changed.

You can pretend he's still here.

You open your eyes.

The room is not silent. Faraway thunder rumbles in the sky and Shadow lightly snores from where he sleeps.

It's four months now, and you've suddenly forgotten how to feel numb.

Your hypothesis about emotional suppression seems to be correct.

You sit up.

You stare at your hands.

You can't breathe.

At first, you think someone is trying to kill you. That's the obvious answer.

But then you feel the tear drop down to the tip of your nose.

And then you break.

You lose all sense of time as your vision is flooded. You hiccup between sobs and you know you've always been an ugly crier.

What makes it worse is when you feel a hesitant hand on your shoulder, and look over to see Shadow looking at you with so much concern and understanding.

You don't want to cry in front of him. You're meant to be strong for him, for this kid that you've grown closer to, for this kid that you want to take care of.

But when he reaches up to hug you, all you can do is fall apart on his shoulder. And you feel so bad, because no kid should ever have to be the one to comfort an adult, but the tears keep coming and you can't make them stop.

You don't know how long you sat there, weeping on him, when it seems the well has run dry.

You try to mutter an apology to him, but he gets up and walks away. You stare at nothing in front of you and curse yourself for making this child have to support you, but he comes back with a glass of water, averting his eyes nervously.

You think back to the first week he was here.

He'd had a nightmare and woke up screaming and crying. When you'd gone to comfort him, you brought him a glass of water.

You had awkwardly stuttered about how crying can be dehydrating in a sad attempt to make him feel better, social skills be damned, and it had worked.

That was the first time he'd really smiled at you.

And now he's doing the same for you.

He says something similar about water and dehydration and you can't entirely understand what he's saying, but you smile as best you can through the tears in your eyes and take the glass with a choked thank you.

He lights up at the affirmation, and you feel a warmth bloom in your chest as you realize that you are to Shadow as Tom is to Sonic.

You gently ruffle the top of Shadow's head, the corner of your mouth quirking up. He flusters at the action and tilts his head, almost like a cat, you think, sporting a ghost of a smirk.

You tell him you're alright now and to go back to bed, and you yourself fall asleep with the knowledge that you are this weird alien hedgehog’s weird quasi-father, and you don't mind it one bit.

October 31, 2024, 5:30 PM

Turns out Tom and Maddie made a costume for Shadow. Sonic had apparently told them about something Shadow said about it after one of his trips to the Mean Bean, and they'd decided to surprise him. Needless to say, he was ecstatic. Others may not have registered the level of happiness he was at, but you know Shadow.

You know your boy.

Sonic, Knuckles, and Tails somehow convinced Shadow to go trick-or-treating with them. You encouraged him, too. He seemed a bit nervous, and even sort of embarrassed, but he ultimately agreed, smiling as he waved goodbye to you.

This was the first time in a while that you've been really alone. The pain starts to catch up to you and for a moment, you feel incredibly empty. Your throat begins to tighten.

You take a deep breath as the grief curls up once more, resting for the moment. It makes you cold.

You make yourself a simple latte and draw a little jack-o'-lantern on the top. Your hands still shake, but it's not too much to deal with.

You doubt anyone else will come into the shop. You already planned to close early for Halloween, and the sign at the front tells as much to any prospective customers.

You turn to begin dealing with the back counter, cleaning the machines and putting things back to where they belong. You've grown fond of the routine.

Then you hear the door open, and turn around to see Shadow running into the shop. His eyes are bright, brighter than you've ever seen them.

He tells you that he remembers everything now. He says, excited—God, it makes you happy to see him excited—that his memory is back and he can tell you what happened to–

The door opens again.

You look up.

He's there.

He's alive.

You stand there for a moment, completely still, completely silent.

You almost scream.

You leap over the counter, running and tackling him in the tightest hug you've ever given anyone.

He smells horrible. Like smoke and sulfur and dirt and grime and he's alive and he's holding onto you just as strong as you are and the voice is cheering and exploding into fireworks in your brain and the pain squeezes your heart in its hands and he's alive.

You don't even notice when the tears begin to fall. You only notice his pulse, alive, his breath, alive, his arms around you, alive, alive, alive.

When you finally pull back after what feels like both an eternity and a millisecond, you get a look at his face, and you put it in your hands and holy shit he is alive.

He looks absolutely disheveled and it's possibly the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, and then he smiles, wide, genuine, warm, so rare, so real, and then he leans forward and kisses you and you can't think anymore.

He tastes awful and you've never loved him more than you do now.

#ripley doesn't say stuff #ripley doesn't know how to write #stobotnik #sonic 3 #sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie 3 #agent stone #shadow the hedgehog #ivo robotnik #fanfic #im really proud of this one #made my sibling want me dead (this is a good thing to me)#im having a little bit of brainrot #you know how it is #genuinely though this might be one of the best things ive ever written???#which is crazy considering its sonic the fucking hedgehog fanfiction #but what can i say im good at writing pain #also i did so much like. way too in depth research for this #i was looking up the weather in places on specific dates i was looking up sunrise times.#im normal. i swear. (lying)#fun fact if youve made it this far for some reason:#shadows costume is a clockwork orange!#ive never seen the movie myself but i feel like maria would've gotten her hands on it and watched it with shadow #ouuhh the siblings.....#anyways.#youve got better things to do than listen to me ramble in the tags #SCRAM!#angst #angst with a happy ending #teehee

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wangxianficrecs · 1 day ago

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Heart Like Mine by nejojita

Heart Like Mine

by nekojita (@nekojitachan)

T, 42k, Wangxian

Part of the MDZS Big Bang 2024

Summary: With Wen Ruohan is interested in Wei Wuxian due to his talent with talismans, Gusu Lan and Yunmeng Jiang agree to an arranged marriage between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian to prevent Qishan Wen from growing more powerful (while there is still a threat of war looming). Things get off to the usual rocky start, with Lan Wangji and much of Gusu Lan (except for the younger Lans) looking down on Wei Wuxian. This disapproval eventually leads to a situation where Wei Wuxian is framed for a crime by Su Mishan and friends and is punished by the discipline whip and seclusion in the Cold Pond Cave. A cave that holds more than one secret that will impact Cloud Recesses and the Jianghu's future. Kay's comments: A story for fans of the "Wei Wuxian forced to marry into Gusu Lan Clan, Lan Wangji is not amused" storyline with an added bonus of letting the female characters live and safe the day while Wangxian slowly and inevitably fall in love despite a very rocky start. Bonus points for Lan Yi being Wei Wuxian's greatest ally in Gusu and his genius being appreciated. Excerpt: Inside, it was mostly open and divided into three distinct areas. After removing his shoes (somewhat difficult with all the robes), Wei Wuxian stepped into the main room, which seemed to be a receiving area, and stopped to look around. Lan Wangji quickly blocked his view of the sleeping area and pointed to a sliding door towards the back left of the main room. “Your room is there.” “Uhm, okay.” Wei Wuxian remained still for a few seconds until it became clear that his husband expected him to go to the room. “I guess I’ll check it out.” As soon as he turned around, Lan Wangji headed for his sleeping area and, once inside, closed the sliding doors between it and the main room with a resounding ‘snap.’ A moment later, the candles inside the house flickered out.

pov alternating, canon divergence, arranged marriage, madam lan lives, jiang yanli lives, wen qing lives, wen remnants live, wen ning lives, angst with a happy ending, strangers to lovers, gusu lan sect rules, gusu lan sect punishment methods, corporal punishment, hurt wei wuxian, mutual pining, bamf women

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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chroniclesofskz · 2 days ago

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Waltz into my heart

Angst and love

Y/N has always been Felix's biggest supporter from the sidelines. But when she sees him overworking himself and ignoring his health, her concern turns into a passionate confession that reveals her hidden feelings. As they confront their emotions and the pressures of fame, Y/N and Felix embark on a journey of self-discovery, love, and the importance of balance. Will they find a way to nurture their dreams while embracing the love blossoming between them?

Y/N had been silently observing Felix from the sidelines for far too long. She admired everything about him—his infectious laughter, his carefree spirit, and his unwavering dedication to Stray Kids. But lately, her heart ached as she noticed him pushing himself to the brink. The late nights at the dance studio had shifted from passion to obsession, and the toll was evident in his tired eyes and now, increasingly in his movements.

More recently, concern had morphed into outright frustration. Felix frequently rubbed his lower back following the particularly strenuous dance routines, and she could see the struggle in his posture—the winces as he executed sharp moves, the way he collapsed onto the floor after practice, completely drained. It drove her mad that he ignored his own well-being, all in pursuit of perfection.

On a particularly late Friday night, Y/N finally reached her breaking point. She prepared a care package filled with his favorite snacks: a batch of rich, fudgy brownies, some homemade cookies, and two iced coffees sweetened just the way he liked them—she hoped this would provide the boost he desperately needed. As she assembled the items, determination fueled her every action. This was about more than just snacks; it was about confronting Felix’s reckless behavior directly.

After a quick drive to the dance studio, she hesitated outside the doors. The sound of music and rhythmic thumping echoed within, but enough was enough. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside.

The studio was dimly lit, the scent of sweat and determination filling the air. Felix was in the middle of a routine, his movements sharp but tinged with exhaustion. He paused, rubbing his lower back before continuing, and Y/N’s heart sank. The sight of him struggling ignited her frustration.

“Felix!” she called out, her voice stronger than she felt.

He paused mid-step, surprise flooding his face. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you,” she replied, trying to keep her tone steady despite the concern swirling inside her. “You’re pushing yourself way too hard! You need to eat and rest!”

“I’ll be fine,” he shrugged, brushing off her concern as if it were nothing. “I just want to get better. I can’t fall behind.”

Y/N’s frustration crested like a wave. “No, you need to listen!” she snapped, stepping closer. “You’re not fine! You’ve been working yourself to the bone! Look at you! You think this is okay? You keep ignoring your back pain—as if it’s nothing! This isn’t just about you or the group; it’s about your health!”

She watched as he crossed his arms, a defensive posture taking over. “I need to focus on my dance! I don’t have time for this!”

The anger bubbled over as her voice rose, a mix of concern and exasperation. “You don’t have time for a break? What, are you invincible? You’re acting like you’re going to be perfect just by overworking yourself! It’s stupid, Felix!”

As she spoke, she could feel the heat of her frustration flowing through her. How could he be so reckless? How could he care so little for his well-being? The tears of anger began to well in her eyes, and she wiped them away angrily. “I hate watching you like this! It breaks my heart to see you ruining yourself for some ideal someone imposed on you!”

Felix’s eyes softened at her rage, but he also hardened, his jaw clenching. “You don’t understand what it’s like! I can’t let anyone down. I just want to be the best for everyone… for you.”

The reality of how much he was struggling slapped her like a cold wave, the vulnerability in his eyes intermingling with her frustration. “No, Felix! You’re not letting anyone down by taking care of yourself! That’s not how love works; it’s not about being perfect or performing flawless dance moves! It’s about being healthy and present!”

His expression faltered for a moment, but stubbornness crept back in. “I’ll deal with it. I’m not weak!”

Y/N felt a sudden rush of emotion, the dam of her concerns breaking. “You’re not weak for wanting to rest! You’re weak for refusing to hear the people who care about you! You’re being reckless, and it’s driving me insane!”

With a mix of desperation and raw emotion, Y/N shouted through her tears, “I love you, Felix! Why can't you see that? I can’t just stand by while you destroy yourself!”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and damning. Felix, taken aback by her fervent confession, fell silent. An array of emotions danced across his features, confusion and realization intertwining.

Before he could process his thoughts, Y/N turned sharply, storming out of the studio, anger and

heartbreak propelling her forward. Each step felt like a release, the fury and sorrow battling fiercely within her as she exited the studio. The memory of Felix’s stubborn face haunted her, and she slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing in the hallway.

Felix stood paralyzed, shock coursing through him. How had they arrived at this point? The chaos of their emotions muddled his thoughts. He had never seen Y/N so passionate and upset, not about him. Her confession hung in the air like a bell tolling—loud, clear, and impossible to ignore.

Realization struck him hard, like a blow to the gut. Y/N didn’t just care about him; she loved him, and she was right. As he replayed her words, all the pieces fell into place—her worried glances, her soft touches, the way she always made time for him. It all made sense now, and the weight of his own stubbornness hit him like a wave.

“Y/N, wait!” he shouted, racing after her through the hallway. He sprinted, ignoring the soreness in his back, focused solely on catching up to her before she slipped away. He couldn’t let her go; he wouldn’t.

“Y/N, please!” he called again, the urgency in his voice ringing louder this time as he rounded the corner. His heart thudded in his chest, propelled by a mix of adrenaline and fear of losing her. “I need to talk to you!”

She paused, her back facing him as she took a deep breath, her shoulders trembling. “What’s there to say, Felix? You already made your choice, didn’t you?”

The hurt in her voice cut through him, and he took a moment to gather his thoughts. “No, that’s not true. I didn’t mean to push you away. I … I just didn’t know how to handle everything!”

Y/N slowly turned to face him, and the sight of her tear-streaked cheeks made his heart ache. “How can you not see what you’re doing to yourself? I can’t be okay with watching you push your limits while your health deteriorates. I care too much!”

“Y/N,” he said, desperation in his voice. “I care, too! I’ve cared for so long, and I was too scared to admit it.” He stepped closer, earnestness flooding him. “I didn’t want to complicate things between us, didn’t want to distract you from your own life. But now, I see how stupid I’ve been.”

For a moment, silence enveloped them, and the air felt charged with tension. Y/N’s eyes searched his, looking for signs of sincerity amidst the turmoil. Felix took a few tentative steps closer, his heart racing as he closed the distance. “I love you, Y/N! I love you, and I’m terrified of losing you! I thought I was doing the right thing by working hard, but it feels empty without you by my side.”

She blinked, taken aback by the intensity of his admission. The anger she had felt began to fade as a wave of relief washed over her, but it was still mingled with frustration. “If you love me, then why can’t you just take care of yourself? You have to understand that I want you to thrive, not burn out.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry for all of it!” His voice broke slightly, suffused with emotion. “I promise I’ll do better. I’ll listen to you. I’ll take breaks. Just please, don’t walk away from me.”

As he watched her, the tears returned to Y/N’s eyes, this time spilling over with a different kind of urgency. Her heart clenched at the sight of him beneath the studio lights—the weariness, the uncertainty, the strength of his feelings suddenly laid bare. It was overwhelming, and she couldn’t help but feel the tension melting away.

“Felix…” she murmured, her voice trembling as she took a deep breath. “I want to believe you. I really do.”

In that moment of vulnerability, a connection ignited, a magnetic pull that brought them closer. Felix stepped in front of her, cupping her face gently in his hands as he looked into her eyes with fierce devotion.

“I mean it, Y/N. I will prioritize us—I’m ready to let you in. Just promise me you’ll help me along the way.”

Before she could respond, he leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a passionate kiss. It was urgent and fervent, a collision of all the feelings they had kept bottled up for too long. The surprise of it made her weak in the knees, and she instinctively kissed him back, pouring everything she felt into the moment.

Felix’s hands cradled her face as they kissed, savoring the warmth and softness of her lips against his, brushing away the remnants of her tears with his thumb. Their kiss

deepened, filled with the passion they had both longed to express. Every ounce of emotion they had bottled up poured into that moment as they lost themselves in each other. Felix felt the warmth of her body close to his, and it calmed the storm within him.

He pulled away slightly to gaze into her eyes, both of them breathing heavily. “See? This is what I’ve been missing,” Felix said softly, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “You’re my light, Y/N. I’d be lost without you.”

Y/N’s heart soared at his words, and a smile broke through the remnants of her tears. “And I’d do anything to ensure you realize how wonderful you are, Felix. You’re not just a dancer; you’re so much more than that.”

He leaned in again, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, a gesture filled with unspoken admiration. “Let’s do this together. I’ll take it slow, I promise.”

With newfound resolve, Y/N held onto his arms, feeling the warmth radiating from him. “We’ll take care of each other. And when the weight of the world feels too heavy, we’ll share it.”

“Exactly,” he replied, leaning down to capture her lips again in a softer kiss, a promise of their connection solidified in that contact.

Felix took a step back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Now, let’s eat those brownies before they start melting in the heat of this moment!”

Y/N laughed, a melodic sound that felt like music in the studio. “Only if you promise to split them with me!”

“Deal!” he winked, and they walked hand-in-hand to the nearby bench, the earlier tension replaced by an easiness that felt right.

As they settled down, Y/N opened the package, revealing the delectable treats she had prepared with care. She handed him a brownie, and when he took a bite, his eyes lit up with delight. “This is amazing! You’re the best,” he said, mouth half-full.

Y/N giggled, watching him enjoy the food. It was a simple, sweet moment, but it filled her heart with warmth. She joined him, savoring the taste of the brownies and the cookies, both comforting in their familiarity.

After they finished the snacks, Felix leaned back on his hands, propping himself up as he looked at her. “So, about taking care of myself…” he began, a playful smirk teasing the corners of his lips.

“Oh no, what is it?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, half-joking.

“I think it's time we put a limit on my practice hours and maybe incorporate more fun activities into my life,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about a dance party just for us? No crowds, no pressure—just you and me.”

Y/N’s heart raced at the thought, and she clapped her hands in excitement. “That sounds perfect! We can play our favorite songs and just dance—no judging, just fun!”

“Exactly!” he agreed, his excitement matching hers, then added with a cheeky smile, “And maybe we can add a few more snacks to the playlist too?”

She laughed, playfully shoving him. “You and your food! But yes, definitely. I’m all in if it means spending time with you.”

As they settled into a comfortable rhythm, Felix reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers effortlessly. “You’ve changed everything for me, Y/N. I don’t want to hide my feelings anymore, and I don’t want you to either. Let’s make this real.”

She felt the flutter of hope swell within her—a promise of a new beginning. “With you, I can be myself, Felix. Let’s be each other’s safe space.”

He nudged her shoulder playfully. “And maybe our dance floor ground zero,” he added with a grin, causing her to chuckle.

The atmosphere felt lighter now, filled with shared laughter and affections. They spent the rest of the evening dancing together, sometimes swaying to soft beats, other times breaking out into silly movements that made them both laugh uncontrollably.

In between their spontaneous dance breaks, they stole quick kisses and shared sweet whispers, building moments that felt like they were existing in their world. Each gesture—whether it was a laugh, a fleeting touch, or a whispered confession—felt like a step further into their newfound bond.

Later, as the evening winded down and the studio lights dimmed, Y/N turned to Felix, her heart warm with affection. “Thank you for letting me in—truly.”

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Thank you for not giving up on me. I’ll always listen to you from now on, I promise.”

Kissing her forehead softly, he smiled down at her—his fingers sliding through her hair as he tucked a loose strand behind her ear. Y/N looked up at

him, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. The vulnerability between them felt almost magical, grounding them in a way they had never experienced before.

“Felix,” she started, her voice soft, “promise me you won’t overwork yourself again. I want you to be the incredible dancer you are, but I need you to prioritize your well-being too.”

He nodded earnestly, his eyes sincere as they bore into hers. “I promise, Y/N. I realize now that I need to find that balance—between ambition and taking care of myself. With you by my side, I feel like I can do that.”

“Good! I’ll be here to remind you whenever you need,” she affirmed, her heart dancing at the thought of supporting him in a healthier way.

Felix chuckled, leaning down to press a light kiss on her lips—a dance of warmth and sweetness that sent butterflies flying through her stomach. “And I’ll be here for you too, always.”

With the promise of a new dynamic between them established, Felix took her hand and led her to the center of the studio, where the floor felt welcoming beneath their feet. He started swaying gently, pulling her into a soft rhythm, and they moved together, almost as if they were the only two people in the world.

“Let’s dance our worries away,” he said, flashing her that charming smile that made her stomach flutter.

Y/N smiled back, her heart racing as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Okay! But only if you promise not to step on my toes!”

“I’ll do my best!” he laughed, his voice light and playful as he guided her in their silly little dance.

The music they shared hummed in the background, providing the perfect backdrop for their impromptu dance party. They swayed together, laughter bubbling up between them as they tried to imitate silly moves they saw in the dance videos—their hearts lightening, their spirits lifting.

As they danced, Felix would occasionally lift her off the ground, spinning her around as she squealed in both surprise and delight. His strength enveloped her, filling her heart with admiration and warmth. They were lost in their little world, where laughter echoed and joy reigned.

“Dance-offs?” she suggested playfully, a competitive glimmer in her eyes.

“Bring it on!” he challenged, and they fell into playful banter, each taking turns trying to outdo each other with silly and exaggerated dance moves.

As the night wore on, the laughter began to fade into peaceful giggles, their bodies growing tired but their hearts still racing. Eventually, they found a quiet spot on the floor, leaning against one another, the energy of the evening soothing and comforting.

“Can we stay like this forever?” Y/N asked softly, resting her head on his shoulder.

Felix tightened his hold around her, his heart swelling at the thought. “I don’t see why not. As long as we keep loving and supporting each other, I think we’ll be just fine.”

Y/N felt a sense of contentment envelop her, the words soothing her soul and giving her hope for whatever lay ahead.

“I can’t believe we finally made it here,” she mused. “After all those unspoken feelings and frustrations…”

Felix tilted her chin gently, guiding her gaze up to meet his. “We were just waiting for the right moment. And now? We’ll build beautiful memories together—one dance at a time.”

With that promise hanging in the air, he leaned down, capturing her lips again in a soft, lingering kiss that took her breath away. The kiss held all the passion, love, and commitment they had both been holding back, pouring everything they shared into that gentle touch.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless and a little dazed, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. “You know, I think you and I make quite the team.”

He chuckled, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Perfect, then. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

“Exactly!” she laughed, her heart soaring at the chemistry between them.

They spent the rest of the evening reminiscing and talking about their dreams and ambitions, making promises to be there for each other. They shared favorite songs, discussed future dance practices, and planned impromptu adventures. Everything felt different now—lighter, filled with endless possibilities.

As the evening stretched into night, the once-empty studio felt alive with their laughter and connection. Y/N knew they had crossed an important boundary, stepping into a realm of deeper affection and understanding that neither of them had anticipated exploring together.

Finally, as the stars twinkled outside, they cupped each other's faces, brushing noses, sharing quiet breaths, and whispering quiet vows of love and support in the dim light of the studio.

In each other’s arms, they found refuge—a safe space where dreams expanded and love blossomed. Wrapped in their newfound closeness, they fell asleep under the studio’s soft lights, ready to

embrace whatever the future held for them, knowing they would face it together—hand in hand, hearts intertwined, and ready to dance through life.

As the night deepened, the soft sounds of their laughter faded into a peaceful calm, leaving the dance studio enveloped in warmth and the promise of a beautiful journey ahead.

And in that moment, Y/N and Felix knew they had found something truly special—a love that was as vibrant as the music that had brought them together, stronger with each gentle sway and whisper shared in the quiet of the night.

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softsreidx-hotchner · 2 days ago

Text

Look after you [S.R]

Summary: After the death of your mother, you return home to face an overwhelming grief you’re not sure how to handle. Surrounded by family, your brother Lee and your dad, you're struggling to cope with the loss, but it’s Spencer—your brother's close friend from the BAU—who stays by your side. As you prepare for your mother’s funeral, Spencer offers you comfort, helping you through the hardest moments of your life.

Paring : fem!reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Angst, Grief, Death, Emotional , Mild Language

Word count : 4K

Content: Emotional Grief, Comfort

Category: Angst, Romance, Comfort

The song look after you by the fray means a lot to me in this fic I used little lyrics to symbolizes the words in feelings in the fic . I hope that makes since

This broke my heart. I did my best to proofread , please be kind if I messed up anything I can fix it but I had fun writing this it help me let out some emotions.

Author notes : I’m so very sorry for this one it hurt me more to write it then it was for you to read it , I can’t count how many times I cried writing this — A few years ago my grandmother had past away and her birthday is coming up soon and so I wanted to write this but in different perspective way . I still grief till this day for her — this feeling was how I was feeling during my grandmothers funeral 💔😭💗..

“If I don’t say this now , I will surely break .

You had been in the shower for what felt like forever, the water running warm but unable to soothe the cold ache in your chest. It had been thirty minutes, maybe more. You just got home from college, and everything felt like it was crashing down around you.

The year had been brutal—your mom had passed away, and now it was just you, your dad, and your older brother left to pick up the pieces.

Your brother, who worked in the BAU, was someone you always looked up to.

You’d followed his footsteps into college, thinking you could make it, just like him.

That’s how you met Spencer Reid—through your brother. You’d hit it off instantly, and over time, you’d grown close. But now, your heart was a mess, torn between grief and the overwhelming silence of your mother’s absence.

The sound of your dad’s voice broke through your thoughts, muffled through the bathroom door. “Sweetheart, Spencer’s here,” he called, his voice tight, like he was struggling to keep it together himself.

You stayed where you were, sitting on the cold tile floor of the shower, the water cascading over your head. The tears kept coming.

It didn’t matter that the funeral for your mom was tomorrow. The reality hadn’t hit until now—your world, once whole, was forever broken.

You couldn’t stop thinking about her, the memories flooding your mind.

The necklace she gave you, the one you still wore, now felt heavier than ever.

Is she doing okay? Spencer had asked your dad earlier.

“Not really, Spence,” your dad had replied. “But you can go on up if you want.”

“Thanks, sir,” Spencer had said, his voice soft but sincere. “No problem, Spence. You’re part of this family now.”

And then, Spencer came. He walked up the stairs, hesitating for only a moment before pushing open the bathroom door.

The moment he stepped inside, the sound of your sobs became audible, and he froze for a second, his heart aching for you.

You hadn’t noticed him until he was right there, standing in the doorway, still fully dressed.

"Spence?" you gasped, your voice raw with emotion. "What—what are you doing in here? In my bathroom? In my shower?"

“I just… I couldn’t just leave you alone.

” His voice was gentle but full of emotion.

“I wanted to be here for you. I had to make sure you were okay.”

You couldn’t find the words to respond, so instead, you just collapsed into him, burying your face in his chest, your body shaking with each sob that wracked your frame.

You cried harder, the grief pouring out of you.

“Why her? Why my mom?” you whispered, your voice broken.

Spencer held you tightly, his own heart heavy with sorrow for you.

He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t good with words when it came to things like this.

All he knew was that he wanted to comfort you, to let you know that you weren’t alone.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured softly, his hands gently stroking your hair.

“I’m so sorry. I’m here for you. I’ve got you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

And in that moment, as you clung to him, the world outside seemed to fade.

The ache in your chest didn’t disappear, but somehow, for the first time in what felt like forever, it didn’t hurt quite as much.

After a few minutes, Spencer gently pulled back, guiding you to stand. “Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he said quietly, his tone caring and calm.

“As I'm leaving the one I wanna take , Forgive the urgency, but hurry up and wait, My heart has started to separate.

You barely had the strength to respond, but you let him help you, his hands tender as he guided you out of the shower.

He wrapped a towel around your shoulders and pulled you into him, holding you tightly for just a moment before stepping back.

“Let me help you get dressed, okay?” Spencer asked, his voice low, almost uncertain.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

You shook your head weakly, wiping away more tears. “Spence… you don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said softly, gently lifting your chin to meet your eyes. “But I want to. I’m here for you, remember?”

With a small, shaky breath, you nodded. It was hard to think straight, but his presence, his unwavering kindness, made everything feel just a little more manageable. Spencer carefully helped you pull on a soft pair of sweatpants and a loose sweater, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was afraid he might break you.

Once you were dressed, he reached for the brush that was sitting on the bathroom counter, brushing through your damp hair with gentle strokes.

Each movement was soothing, his touch so tender it almost felt like he was trying to erase the pain from your heart.

You closed your eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the kindness in his actions. "Spence... You don’t have to do all this. I can—"

“I want to,” he interrupted softly, his voice steady but full of emotion. “You don’t have to do anything right now. I’ve got you.”

When he finished brushing your hair, he carefully dried your face with a soft towel, wiping away the remnants of your tears.

Then, without a word, he pulled you into his arms again, his body a quiet comfort as you rested your head against his chest.

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” Spencer whispered, his voice full of conviction. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean into him, to feel the warmth of his presence, and for just a moment, you didn’t feel so alone.

At that moment, you heard the soft creak of footsteps on the stairs, and your brother Lee appeared in the doorway, his face a mixture of concern and warmth. “Hey, sis,” he said gently, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

Without a word, you rushed toward him, throwing your arms around his neck. Despite his “jock” reputation in high school, Lee had grown into one of the kindest people you knew, always there when you needed him. He was everything you could have asked for in a brother, and more.

“I’m glad you're home,” Lee murmured, hugging you back. His voice cracked slightly, and you felt his own grief settle over him. He didn’t need to say anything more. You both understood.

“Thanks for bringing Spencer by,” you whispered, pulling back slightly to look at him. You could see the concern in his eyes, but his smile reassured you.

“Of course, sis. Wouldn’t leave you alone right now,” Lee said, his voice steady, like the rock you always knew him to be. “I’m just glad you’re home.”

Spencer, who had been standing nearby, gave Lee a small nod, then spoke with that soft tone you were used to. “If you want, you can grab some of Lee’s clothes. I’m sure he won’t mind, and it’ll give you time to relax while yours dry off.”

You glanced at Spencer, then back at Lee, a small laugh escaping your lips despite the heavy atmosphere. “I hope this will do,” you said with a weak smile, grabbing a shirt and pair of shorts from your brother’s closet. “I’m sure he won’t mind for now.”

Lee chuckled, his warm eyes lighting up. “It’s all yours, sis. Take whatever you need.”

As you stepped back into the bathroom, you held up the clothes in front of Spencer. “I guess these will work for now?” you said with a small grin, trying to push through the sadness.

Spencer smiled back, his eyes softening as he took the clothes from you. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’ll be quick.”

When he stepped into the bathroom to change, you turned back to Lee, who was leaning against the doorframe with a soft but reassuring smile.

“It’s good to have you home,” Lee said, his tone sincere.

You nodded, a lump in your throat as you hugged him tightly once more. “Thanks, Lee. I needed this.”

Lee squeezed you tighter for a moment, then pulled back, his expression serious but full of love. “You’re family. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

And as Spencer emerged a few moments later, wearing the borrowed clothes with that familiar quiet grace, you realized—between Lee, Spencer, and your dad—you didn’t have to.

The next morning, you woke up to the soft rays of sunlight creeping through your window. It was a slow, heavy morning, the weight of what lay ahead settling in your chest. You heard your dad’s voice from downstairs, calling out to you gently. “Sweetheart, are you awake?”

“I’m up,” you replied, your voice sounding quieter than usual.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Today was the day—your mom’s funeral. You had barely slept the night before, the memories of her haunting you even as you tried to close your eyes. But now, there was no avoiding it. It was real. You had to face it.

You got out of bed, pulling the black dress you had chosen the night before from your closet. It felt like the only option. The fabric was soft but formal, the kind of dress your mom would’ve loved.

You slid into it, then spent a little extra time curling your hair, the motions almost automatic, like a ritual. You applied some light makeup—nothing too much, just enough to make you feel like yourself.

Before you could even think about anything else, you reached for the necklace your mom had given you. The delicate pendant felt heavy against your skin, and you couldn’t help but think of her as you put it on.

She had always worn it herself, and now it was yours. It grounded you in some strange way, as if a part of her was still with you, even in her absence.

As you finished getting ready, you heard footsteps from down the hall. Spencer had already gotten up and left to go get ready himself. You weren’t sure where he had gone, but you knew he wouldn’t be far.

He had promised to stay with you, to be there for you, no matter what. Your heart warmed at the thought of him, always putting you first.

You stepped out into the hallway, making your way down the stairs. When you reached the bottom, you saw your brother Lee leaning against the kitchen counter, his eyes soft as he noticed you.

"Spence is getting ready. He'll be back soon," Lee said, his voice kind but steady. "But hey, you need to try to eat something. Come on."

Your dad’s voice chimed in from the kitchen, his tone light despite the heaviness of the morning.

“I made your favorite, sweetheart. Bacon, eggs, and biscuits with gravy,” he said, his attempt at normalcy a comfort, even though it couldn’t take away the weight in the air.

You made your way into the kitchen, smiling faintly at the spread your dad had prepared.

It was always one of your favorite meals, and even though the world felt wrong today, it was nice to have something familiar. Your dad had a way of making things feel a little less heavy, even if just for a moment.

“Thanks, Dad,” you murmured as you walked over to the table, your stomach feeling uneasy but knowing you had to eat.

As you sat down, your dad reached over and gave you a tight hug. You buried your face in his shoulder for a moment, feeling the comfort of his embrace.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you."

"I love you too, Dad," you said, pulling back slightly but keeping close. The hug felt like something you needed more than ever right now.

After a few moments, you pulled yourself together, sitting down to eat.

Your dad had done his best to make this morning as normal as possible, and you were grateful for it, even if it felt like the world outside the kitchen was completely different from the one inside.

Your brother, Lee, walked over to you with a reassuring smile. “You’ll be okay, sis. You’ve got this,” he said, his voice steady, though you could see the concern in his eyes. Lee was always strong for you, but you knew he was struggling, too.

“Thanks, Lee,” you said softly, giving him a small smile in return. His presence, like Spencer’s, always had a way of grounding you.

As you ate, your mind drifted to Spencer, wondering when he would come back. You knew he wasn’t far, and it gave you a quiet sense of comfort.

No matter what happened today, you weren’t alone. You had your family, and you had Spencer, and that was more than enough for now.

The kitchen was quiet, the only sounds coming from the soft clink of cutlery and the gentle hum of your thoughts. You were trying to focus on your food, but it was hard to keep your mind from drifting.

The heaviness of the day lingered like a weight in your chest, but for the moment, your dad and Lee’s presence grounded you.

There now, steady love, so few come and don't go

“Will you, won't you be the one I'll always know? , “When I'm losing my control, the city spins around , “You're the only one who knows, you slow it down.

Then you heard the door open.

You looked up, your heart skipping in your chest, knowing exactly who it was. "Spence is back," Lee said softly, glancing toward the door with a small, encouraging smile.

You set your fork down, your heart beating a little faster. You knew Spencer wouldn’t be long, but the thought of seeing him, of having him with you through everything, made you feel like you could breathe again.

You excused yourself from the kitchen, your feet carrying you toward the living room.

The door to the front entrance was open just a crack, and as you stepped closer, you saw him.

Spencer stood there, tall and slender, dressed in a sharp black-and-white suit.

The contrast of his clothes against the morning light only made him seem even more striking.

His dark hair, usually a little messy, was neatly styled, and in his hand, he held a small bouquet of flowers.

When you opened the door, he looked up at you, a small but warm smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your own face as you saw him standing there, the nervous energy in his eyes that he tried to hide.

It was the same Spencer you’d come to know, but now, it felt like he was all that was steady in a world that was slowly falling apart.

Before he could say anything, you ran to him, and without thinking, you threw your arms around his neck, holding him tightly. His body was warm and solid, and for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered but the quiet comfort of his presence.

"I told you I’d come back," Spencer said softly, his voice steady but filled with the same tenderness you had come to expect from him.

He carefully pulled back just enough to hold out the flowers toward you. "I got these for you… and for your mom, for today."

You looked down at the bouquet, your breath catching in your throat. It was a simple arrangement—white lilies and soft pink roses—beautiful and delicate, just like the woman they were for.

“Thank you, Spence,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “It means more than I can say.”

Spencer’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his eyes dark with understanding.

“I’m here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone,” he said quietly, his hand gently resting on your back, giving you just enough comfort to steady yourself.

You took a shaky breath, wiping at your eyes, trying to pull yourself together.

“I know. I know,” you murmured, your words quiet but full of gratitude. "I’m glad you’re here."

Spencer smiled softly, the weight of everything they were both carrying unspoken between you, but still shared in the tenderness of that moment.

“You’re not alone, I promise. You’ve got me."

You clung to him a moment longer, letting the comfort of his words settle over you.

Spencer didn’t ask for anything in return, didn’t expect anything from you but to be there, and right now, that was everything.

The drive to the funeral was a blur. The world outside seemed distant, like you were floating through it all.

You could feel the weight of the day pressing down on you, each breath harder than the last. When you arrived, it was as though everything moved in slow motion.

The air felt thick, the sound of footsteps muffled beneath the weight of grief.

I'll look after you ,After you.. Oh, oh, oh, oh, be my baby

Oh, oh, oh.

The funeral home was quiet, solemn. You could hear your dad’s heavy breathing, his hand shaking slightly as he tried to hold it together.

Lee, normally strong and unshakable, was silently wiping his eyes, trying to hide the tears that wouldn’t stop. Your heart broke seeing them both like this.

You stood there, almost numb, as the guests slowly made their way to say their goodbyes.

You watched, unable to move at first, your body frozen in place as the reality of the situation crashed down on you.

This was it. Your mom, the woman who had been the center of your world, the one who loved you unconditionally, was gone.

You had known it in your mind, but seeing her there, lying in the casket, still and lifeless, made it all real in a way you hadn’t expected. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It felt as though the ground beneath you was disappearing.

When it was finally your turn, you felt yourself trembling. You hadn’t known what to expect when you walked up to her, but now, standing there in front of her, it was almost too much.

Her face, so peaceful, but so still, seemed so distant from the mom you remembered—the one who had held you close when you were little, the one who gave you strength just by being in the room.

Your throat tightened as you reached out, placing your hand gently on the casket.

You had imagined this moment a thousand times, but none of those thoughts had prepared you for the finality of it all. You tried to say something, anything, but no words came. All you could do was cry.

And then, as you stood there, your sobs growing louder, Spencer was by your side, his arms enveloping you from behind, steadying you.

He said nothing—there was nothing he needed to say. His presence alone was a quiet comfort, holding you together in that fragile moment when you thought you might break.

“I’m here,” Spencer whispered softly into your ear, his voice breaking with emotion. "I’ve got you."

You cried harder, your chest aching with the weight of it all, and you could feel Spencer’s arms tighten around you, offering everything he could in that moment—his support, his love, his strength.

“I—I don’t know what to do, Spence,” you choked out, your voice raw with grief. “I can’t—she’s really gone. I can’t believe it.”

“I know,” Spencer murmured, his voice thick with sadness, his hands gently rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“I know, but you’re not alone. You’re not alone, okay? I’m right here.”

You held on to him, leaning into his embrace as if it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

The world felt too big, too overwhelming, but in his arms, you found a small piece of peace.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself feel the comfort of his touch, knowing that, for all the heartbreak and loss, Spencer would stay with you. He wasn’t going anywhere.

As you said your final goodbye to your mom, the words finally came, though they were barely a whisper, lost in your tears. “I love you, Mom. I’ll never forget you.”

And through it all, Spencer didn’t let go. His hold on you never faltered, his quiet presence the only thing that gave you any semblance of strength in that moment of unimaginable loss.

“It's always have and never hold , You've begun to feel like home ,What's mine is yours to leave or take ,What's mine is yours to make your own

After the funeral, the day seemed to stretch on endlessly, each moment heavy with silence.

It wasn’t until later in the afternoon, when the house had quieted down and the last of the guests had left, that Spencer found you sitting alone in the living room, staring at nothing in particular.

Your mind felt like it was a thousand miles away, caught between memories of your mom and the new, painful reality of life without her.

Spencer hesitated before stepping into the room, a small, unsure smile on his face as he met your gaze. "Hey," he said softly, his voice a gentle intrusion into the stillness. "I know it might be too soon, but... I was hoping we could get some coffee. Just, you know, to get away for a little while."

You blinked at him, the thought of stepping out of the house feeling almost foreign. You were exhausted, emotionally drained, but the idea of leaving for a bit and having a moment of peace with Spencer made something inside you stir.

He didn’t have to say it, but you knew. He wasn’t just offering coffee. He was offering a small escape, a moment of normalcy amidst the chaos.

“I don’t know…” you started, unsure, but Spencer was already walking closer, his eyes full of that familiar understanding, the kind that made your chest tighten.

"You don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to," Spencer added, his tone soft but persistent. "I just... I thought it might help.

Just a few minutes outside, a little fresh air, and something to drink. We can sit in silence, whatever you need."

“Alright,” you said, the corners of your mouth lifting slightly. “Coffee sounds good.”

Spencer’s face softened, his relief palpable, and for the first time that day, you felt like you could breathe a little easier.

"Thanks," he said quietly, as if the simple invitation meant more than just a cup of coffee—it was a promise of comfort, of space to heal.

Lee gave a knowing nod as he walked past, leaving you and Spencer alone to make your way out of the house.

@mggslover

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