#It feels like her bitterness got healed

[charulein]

Ough, I need to do a write up of how meeting Venat changed Stubborn,,,,,

[lightningwaters]

[overthemoonwithme]

I'm all caught up with heartbreak high and honestly we've really gone to the other extreme wrt to mental health and "not using it as an excuse". Do people not understand the difference between using trauma as an excuse to be shitty and a trauma response? Especially as a teenager?? I completely understand where Harper was coming from, and what Amerie did was extremely shitty, though she obviously did not know the full extent of the consequences of her actions. And I still empathize with both of them, and honestly the people who are labelling either of them as "toxic" have a pretty naive, if not damaging, view of what supportive friendships while dealing with severe trauma is like.

edit: really read something saying "the trauma was valid, the response was not" and I just...thats not how it works

[deathbxnny]

Helloo!! Arcane is ending soon, so I was wondering if I could request the Arcane cast reacting to a reader who suspiciously seems to know everything that’s gonna happen in the plot? They always appear where the action is, and they warn about dangers before they happen, trying to ”subtly” change the outcomes of horrible events. Tragedies are a core element of the story, so I feel that the narrative would create another disaster if one event got prevented, but the thought of these characters being safe and happy after all they’ve been through would be so healing :3 It’s up to you which way you want to take it 🐁💖 I’m fine with both platonic and romantic, but I’d love to see Vi, Jinx and Caitlyn if that’s ok :)

I love love love your writing, reading your HC’s before bed has become an important part of my day and it’s always a joy to see your work pop up in the tags <3 Thank you for letting us read your creations 💖 I can’t wait to read the second part of your Caitlyn fic!!

The Timekeeper. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx x Gn!Reader

I absolutely LOVE this idea, Anon, and I appreciate your request so much!! Also, thank you for your kind words. It really means the world to me reading something so sweet!<33

Content: Angst, can be read as either platonic or romantic tbh, time traveling, fluff, bitter sweet, cursing, spoilers for season 2?, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

You were always a mysterious figure to them. One that appeared at the right time in the right place whenever they needed you the most.

You never revealed a thing about yourself. You never even told them your name. But one thing they did know was that you had always looked out for them, like a guardian angel in a way.

And on one fateful day, after another evaded tragedy, they finally caught up to you just before you could leave again.

》VI

"Who the hell are you?" She asked completely out of breath after having practically chased you down through the dense crowd of the undercity. She had seen you so many times before. So, so many times. And every time she did, you were somehow able to save her from certain death by subtly showing her the right way to survive.

It took her a while to piece together that you must've known the outcome of every situation she had ever been in beforehand. That was the only logical answer to the many questions around your existence she could come up with, but it wasn't enough to satiate her desperate curiosity. There were times she had chosen against your signs, and the consequences ended up being almost grave. So whoever you were, you must've had otherworldly knowledge about everything and everyone.

Because whilst she didn't know a thing about you, you certainly knew everything about her.

Raising your hooded head, you idly played with the pocket watch in your hand, piercing eyes meeting her own. "Does that matter?" You ask, and truthfully, it shouldn't. Who cared about your identity when she knew she could trust you? But that wasn't enough. "Yeah, it does to me. Now tell me who you are already. I... I've been seeing you everywhere for years now. You have always been there and I..." She trailed off, suddenly losing her confidence.

She had thought of this moment for years now, imagined exactly what she would say to you. And yet, ultimately, she found herself speechless in your presence that seemed to drown out everyone else around you two. "I see... but my apologies, we were not supposed to meet yet." You said calmly, seemingly undisturbed by her appearance. "Time and fate... they both are so tightly intertwined and yet also so far apart from each other... how odd that the timeline changed so suddenly again, no?" Your words made zero sense in her mind, but that just added to your mystery.

"What-" "-Are you happy with the way your life is going?" You ask, and that made the woman pause in thought. The answer was positive, of course, but only because you had a strong hand in it once she accepted your help. She thought of Powder back home, who was probably happily tinkering away with the young girl Isha they recently took in, and that made her finally nod. "Yes. All thanks to you." "Not at all. It was you who chose your fate. I only showed you the alternative paths."

You two stood there in silence for a moment before she shoved her hands into her pockets and looked over to a nearby bar she liked to frequent in-between missions. "Let's go grab a drink and talk. It's on me." Deciding to accept this new path the timelines had given you, you accept her invitation with a smile.

》JINX

"You're terrible at your job." "Am I? I like to pride myself in my good work ethic, actually." Jinx was idly swinging her gun back and forth on her index finger whilst she rested up in the ceiling above you, clearly having followed you around secretly. But she knew that you already knew that from the start.

Scoffing at your words, she jumped down and landed in front of your indifferent figure as she pointed the gun right at you. "Pah! You're a funny one... so what are you? A time traveler?" "Ah, I like the title Timekeeper more." You were aggravating but at the same time a familiar face she had grown to appreciate deeply. You were the reason she was doing well in life now, even if she ignored you for a very, very long time. She thought she knew better despite all the odds pointing against her, especially you. Ultimately, she learned her lesson when she finally just listened to you.

"Ugh... whatever. Can't ya at least tell me your name?" "No." "Man, you're such a pain in the butt!" "Likewise." Rolling her eyes, she lowered her gun and lazily leaned against a wall, arms crossed tightly as she observed the crowds passing by from outside the abandoned building you were in. An admittedly comfortable silence fell between you two, one that relaxed her shoulders and made her sigh in defeat after a while. Your presence was always so comforting.

"So, you let me catch up to you this time. Finally tired of the cat and mouse game we've been playing?" You lowered your head at her question, a sly smile on your face that made her narrow her eyes in interest. "Perhaps. Or maybe I just wanted to ask you how you're doing?" What an odd question, considering the context of your meet-up. And yet, it was somehow fitting coming from you specifically. Wasn't your whole mysterious mission revolving around her well-being anyway?

"Shouldn't you know the answer to that, oh so esteemed 'Timekeeper'?" You found no offense in the mockery of your title. Just pure amusement. "I'm afraid that mind reading was not in the initial job listing." Jinx took a moment to think about your question carefully then, deciding to indulge you despite her better judgment. Things were good now, after all. She, Isha, and Vi were together again as a family, including Vander, even if they had yet to find a way to turn him back properly. But everything was happy otherwise... because you made sure that the end to her story wouldn't be a painfully tragic one.

"... I'm fine. Everything's fine." She muttered, and your smile widened at that answer. "So... I'm not terrible at my job, after all?" Pressing a playful hand to her chin, Jinx acted as though she was in deep thought. "Hmmm... I guess I'll need more convincing than all of this to decide." "Of course... then how about we start with running away before the Enforcers show up to raid this place in approximately... 2 minutes?"

Jinx rolled her eyes again with a grin but agreed to follow you, very much glad to have learned her lesson at your side throughout the years.

》CAITLYN

She was ignorant towards your judgment from the start, especially as she was able to analyze very quickly that you weren't all you claimed you were. You were too smart, too fast, too aware of everything. It was clear that you already knew how her life story especially would come to an end. But that didn't mean that she'd always listen to you.

Caitlyn believed to know better, even going as far as to protest against your word, which she had learned to be fate itself. And sometimes she'd nearly get away with her life, and on others, you'd be the one to show up just in time to save her. It was embarrassing and at times even near humiliating, but you never judged her, just silently left every time she attempted to confront you.

And this time she had finally succeeded.

Now dressed in a formal uniform, she watched your still form stare out of a window in her estate, as though you weren't practically trespassing. But Caitlyn was used to that. "It's going to rain soon. I wonder if the construction workers will get done with the restoration on time today before the first drops fall." The navy haired woman came to stand next to you, ears finely tuned to your calming voice she had heard in her dreams and mind for so many years. It felt surreal to stand next to you at last.

"You already know the answer... but I think Mother will send out guards soon to retrieve them." Her mother, who had only narrowly escaped her death, if it wasn't for you. She had only gotten a little injured from falling debris, but that was all that happened. All of the councilors and people in the building had survived the Jinx attack. No grave injuries. All because you prevented it by throwing Jinx slightly off balance enough to make her shot not as precise.

"... Thank you." "For what?" The right answer would be absolutely everything, but she refrained, noting that you didn't seem keen on praise. You saw it as your job. As your duty to her for a reason unknown. "For saving my mother." That should do.

You nodded at her words in acknowledgment as your eyes spied Ambessa retreating with her troops in defeat. They were practicing chased away by the council since their help was unwelcome. Served them right for meddling with the business of other nations. You had exposed their ulterior motives in secret, and that's all it took for the tide to turn against them. "Just my duty." "I knew you'd say that... but I want to reward you for all you've done. If it wasn't for you... then I... I don't want to know what I would have become."

You glanced at her with an unreadable look in your eye, and that reconfirmed her suspicions regarding how deep she would have fallen otherwise. It's best not to think of it.

Humming to yourself in thought, you gave her a small smile. "Very well, if you insist... you can treat me to some fine tea and cookies." Caitlyn weakly mirrored your grin, relief filling her senses at you accepting her offer. She was worried you wouldn't. "Of course. Follow me." Linking your arms together carefully, you made your way through the dim halls.

A chuckle left your lips when it indeed began to rain.

[cloudsmateria]

love crushed - cloud x reader

summary: cloud can't sleep with you on his mind, unable to accept his feelings. until eventually you both get caught unable to sleep. confessions occur, seggs happens perchance.

tw: seggs, quite rough seggs

He finally gave up. After hours of writhing in his hotel room, trying to convince himself over and over again, he knew he wasn’t winning. You had been circulating his mind, doing laps, your face crossing his vision every second. Continuously recalling your cut-up face today, panting, exhausted, the way his heart failed at the sight of you. You had no hesitation when it came to saving anyone, even at the expense of yourself. 

He groaned, dragging himself out of bed to get fresh air on the balcony. He dragged his hands down his face as he leaned against the railings, looking over Junon. He was being such a fucking girl about this, really. Just a simple crush and it was like he was 14 years old again, getting sweaty hands at the mere thought of you, and yet he still didn't want to accept it, what was right in front of him.

Cloud sighed deeply, resting his elbows against the railings and clasping his hands together. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn't be away from you. Even if you didn’t return his feelings, it wasn't going to stop him, no way in hell, he just needed you by his side, sitting in that bed he was already thinking about knocking on your door just to talk to you and see if you were still okay from that fight that happened hours ago. 

"I don't like her. I'm just not used to having new friends," he told himself, the wind ruffling his hair and his heart pounding at the thought of you, eventually shaking his head, that didn't feel right. He couldn't even deny it anymore. "...It's just a crush, I'll get over it."

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

Cloud was already heading to your room, his hand raised to knock on the door before he realised what he was doing. He cursed himself, dropping his arm back down to his side. This was fucking ridiculous, what was he doing? Cloud didn't even realise the way he was acting, but this was unlike him. Normally, he was cool and collected, always had been, but you, you turned his world upside down and he had no idea how to handle it. 

"Why am I doing this?" He thinks, softly leaning his head against the door. "She's probably sleeping, why are you disturbing her for this stupid shit?" He asked himself, turning around and walking down the hall towards the elevator. He pressed the button, waiting as he looked back at your door. And you stepped out, half asleep and still in your pajamas, it was so dark you didn't even see Cloud at the end of the hallway. 

You shuffled down the hallway. Your head was killing you, all those thoughts that had been swarming you for the past few hours, and now you had a headache. It was a horrible, horrible, night. You needed to go see Aerith to see if she had any healing spells, or Tifa to see if she had any medication, maybe you could go out and clear your head.

You bumped straight into Cloud's chest while you were rubbing your eyes.

"Y/n?"

"Cloud?"

"What are you doing up? Are you okay?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Not trying to sneak out on us are you?" You say, looking up at him, squinting. The hallway lights were bright and you couldn't see his expression properly.

"Just taking a walk."

"Oh my god, that's great. Can I join you?"

"Sure. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," you sigh, "I just couldn't sleep, I've got a lot of things on my mind."

"I know what that's like."

"You couldn't sleep either, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?" You ask, walking next to him as you both go downstairs.

"Not really." You smiled.

"You're never going to open up to me, are you? It's nice to get things off your chest, you know. I'm a great listener."

"You're also so nosy."

"Only for hot, mysterious guys." You giggle, poking him in the chest. He rolls his eyes, shaking his head and trying not to smile, but you notice his mouth twitching and the tips of his ears going red. "Where are we going, by the way?"

"Down on the beach, unless you want to go somewhere else?"

"No, it's fine. I love the beach."

"You'll freeze."

"I won't."

"You're still wearing your PJs."

"I don't need a lecture, Cloud."

"Well it's my problem if you get sick, isn't it?"

"That's cute. Assuming the responsibility of taking care of me."

"Isn't that what I'm doing right now?"

"Touche."

You both walked in silence to the beach, the breeze was warm and the stars were shining bright in the sky. The waves were crashing on the shore, the smell of the ocean was filling the air, and Cloud was beside you.

"What's on your mind?" He asked. 

"Hit my head when we were fighting earlier, had a headache. And just thinking about some stupid shit that happened years ago, it's so annoying when you can't get things out of your head and you get a headache."

"I get it. I feel the same way. Sometimes it feels like a million things are happening and all at once."

"Exactly."

You were quiet for a moment, listening to the ocean and feeling the soft sand beneath your feet. He turned to face you while you were looking over the water, moonlight softly reflecting in your eyes, lighting up your face. Breathtaking. Although brutally reminded of earlier as his eyes dropped down to the cut on your cheek, the gash on your arm. 

"I’m sorry that I couldn't get to you quick enough earlier."

"It's fine, you don’t have to protect me. Just ended up with a concussion."

"Why do you always get yourself hurt for other people?" You laughed. 

"I couldn't let Tifa get hurt, could I? She deserves princess treatment. You would know, you have a crush on her, don't you?" 

"What?" Cloud choked.

"Knowing a girl that pretty since you were kids? Sounds like a great love story." You were genuinely curious, not wanting to be a homewrecker or get the wrong idea from him at any point. You could get the vibe that she liked him too, that they were flirting sometimes. 

"Tifa is my best friend, I've known her for years."

"You guys were arguing like a couple in Nice. Or is it a relationship?"

"We're childhood friends."

"That's not what I asked, Cloud."

"No, it’s not.”

"What about Aerith?"

"Aerith is like my sister."

"Do you have a crush on her then? Is that why you always get flustered around her?"

"Why does it matter? You've got a thing for Reno, don't you?" You burst out laughing, he couldn't help but smile watching you die for a minute straight, until you could feel abs coming through. But he genuinely wanted a straight answer. "Don't you?"

"No?" You snorted. 

"Leslie or Tseng?"

"Oh my God, Cloud. You're going to kill me." You laughed. "What makes you think that?"

"You kept calling them hot. The way you look at both of them too. "

"The way I look at him? Are you jealous?" You tease.

"Of course not." He said sternly.

"Why are you getting so defensive, Strife?" You smirk.

"I'm not."

"Sounds like jealousy to me."

"Why would I get jealous?"

"Are you sure you're not jealous, Cloudy? You're getting a bit worked up."

"Y/n..." He mutterest annoyedly.

"You're not denying it."

"What's there to deny? ...Oh, come on. I saw the way you looked at Reno."

"Reno's a pain in the ass. An attractive pain in the ass. But I don't like him." Thank God, he thinks. "What about you then? Aerith or Tifa?"

"No."

"No to both of them?"

"Why are you surprised?"

"Because they're gorgeous! Are you gay?!"

"No. I'm just... not attracted to them. That's all."

"Ok so... not gay, not attracted to Tifa or Aerith." You list. "You have to like someone."

"Who do you like thetn?" I’m not ready for an unrequited confession, you think. 

"I asked first."

"Are you 5?"

"We're literally sitting here talking about crushes and you're dodging the question. You’re the five-year-old."

"This is ridiculous."

"Who is it?"

"Are we really going to do this here?"

"Please."

"I like you." Cloud says, finally looking at you. You freeze, blinking a couple of times. His heart sinks to his stomach, knowing he should’ve expected rejection and feeling like a fucking idiot. 

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Say it again."

"I like you, Y/n. What? Have I ruined everything?"  One more butterfly and you would've flown away. 

"You don't." You say, trying to confirm it.

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"If you're being serious I'm going to do something really stupid."

"Wha-" You grabbed the collar of his vest, pushing his face toward you, lips connecting.  His hands find your waist quickly, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. Your hands snake around his neck, running through his hair, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb stroking it. He pulls away, biting your bottom lip, picking your hips to wrap your legs around his waist, panting heavily and taken shocked.  

"You have no idea how long it took for me to come to terms with the fact I like you."

“I can’t believe it either.” You smile, kissing him again. “I bagged Cloud Strife.”

“And I bagged you.”

"Let’s get back to the hotel. It’s cold.”

“Almost like I said. And who’s going to be the one taking care of you?”

“It’s almost like I wanted you to warm me up.” You smiled. 

…

He quickly had you against the door the second you got in, kissing down your neck feverishly. It was the only thing he could do after you had been relentlessly going through his mind all week. He wanted nothing more than to feel every inch of you.

"Cloud," you moan, pulling at his vest and throwing it off of him.

"What?" He breathes, his hand reaching the back of your neck to pull you into another kiss.

"Do you know how hot you are?"

"Do you know how hot you are? Why the hell are you not naked yet?" He mumbles into your mouth, ripping your shirt off.

"Fuck." You gasp, as his lips travel down your chest, unclipping your bra. "Couldn't even wait to get onto the bed? Ah-!" His nimble fingers came to your breast, rolling the bud, his mouth sucking in your other nipple, tongue swirling around it. You grip onto his hair, your body burning, twitching. He lifts his head, his lips capturing yours again.

"You're beautiful."

"You're making me blush." You breathe, as his finger catches in your waistband, moving slowly.

“It looks good on you."

"Hurry up, please,"

"Begging already?"

"You've had me waiting long enough, I swear-" He presses his lips against yours again, silencing you.

"Patience."

"I can’t." You mutter as he pulls off your shorts and undergarments, bringing his face down, arms wrapped around your thighs to prop you up against the wall.

"Please, Cloud."

"God, I love it when you beg. You have no idea what it does to me." He groans, taking in what is in front of him. 

"Fucking do something about it." You say frustratedly, bucking your hips forward to prompt any kind of contact. 

"Didn't expect you to be such a brat." He nudges his nose against your clit, making your thighs squeeze, although forced back open by his arms.

"Cloud!"

He licks a long stripe down your pussy, his tongue slipping in. His tongue flicks, making you arch as you whisper his name over and over.

"Cloud, fuck, Cloud,"

"So pretty," he says, muffled.

"More, please."

He takes your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, his arms holding you up as you start to shake. His tongue works its way down, sliding in and out, nose pressed deeply into your sensitive bud. It didn't take you long to feel yourself build up to your finish.

"I'm close." You whimper, he feels your thighs tighten, letting your thighs squeeze his head and hang your legs over your shoulder. 

"Come on, baby."

You moan as your climax reaches, eyes rolling back, gripping his hair tightly. Your legs begin to twitch, his head lifting up.

"So perfect for me." He hums, standing up, held up by your ass as he brings your face up for a kiss. He brings you over to lie on his bed. He kisses down your body, making you whine.

"What about you?" You ask. 

"What about me?"

"Don't you want to finish?"

"You want me to fuck you?"

"God, yes."

"Are you sure you can handle it, princess?" He asks, undoing his trousers and removing the rest of his clothes. “How do you want it?”

"However you want."

"I asked how you wanted it, Y/n.”

"I'm indecisive, I just need you. Do whatever you want, please."

"You sure you're not going to regret that? I won't hold back." He says, kicking off his trousers. You can see the bulge through his boxers, making your heart stop for a minute. "Having second thoughts?"

"That's a lot for my first time."

"You're a virgin?"

"I don't exactly have time for boyfriends when I move all over the place."

"I'll be gentle then."

"I thought you said you weren't holding back." You sit up, watching him as he pulls it out, and kicks away his boxers too. Speechless.

"Only if you had a deathwish." He teases. 

"Can I suck it?"

"Only if you promise not to bite."

"No promises."

He smiles, stroking his cock a couple of times, standing over you. He lets your hand wrap around it, guiding you to his tip. You take him in your mouth, his hand tangling itself in your hair, gently guiding himself down your throat.

"You're so pretty." He groans. You swirl your tongue, making him buck his hips slightly, a moan escaping his lips. You hum, sending vibrations down his dick, his grip tightening in your hair.

"Faster," he pleads, thrusting into your mouth, your eyes watering as he goes deeper. "Fuck,"

He pulls out, you lick a long strip down the underside, sucking the tip. You can taste the precum as you go back to deepthroating him as far as you can manage until you feel his balls tighten.

"God, I could cum in your mouth right now."

You can feel him getting close, his grip starts to tighten. He pulls you away by your hair.

"I was going to let you finish me, but I want to hear you scream." He pushes you back down onto the bed, spreading your legs wide open. You can feel the heat radiating off of his dick, as it rests on your pelvis. "You still want this?"

"Yes, Cloud. Please, please."

"Needy thing." He says, leaning down to peck your lips. He swirls a finger around your clit, before pushing the tip against it, slowly running it up and down. He watches the way your face contorts in pleasure, as you grab the pillow underneath your head. He lines himself up, changing his mind at the last second with a grin, rubbing it up between your lips again. 

"Stop teasing me,"

"It's so fun to watch your squirm,"

"I'll finish myself off."

"Oh yeah? How are you going to do that if I'm holding you down?" He grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head.

"I can't wait any longer, please."

"Since you're begging so nicely."

"God, finally." He leans over again, kissing you one more time before lining himself up. Slowly, pushing the tip in, and letting you adjust to the stretch as he stayed there for a minute. He groaned, it was already so tight, hot, wet.

"Fuck... So tight." He mutters, thrusting the tip in. "You okay?"

"Yeah." You twitch around him, and he feels it. He pushes in slowly, inch by inch. His cock filling you, the stretch getting wider, as he slides in completely, the inside of you full.

"Ah- Fuck."

"Want me to stop?" You shake your head. He bites down on his bottom lip. "God you feel so good." Slowly, he pulls out, the head catching on the edge, and pushes in again. The pace stays slow for a while, his hand holding your wrists above your head.

"Taking me so good." He moans, kissing your neck again. You whimper, any discomfort starting to melt away, pleasure taking over.

"Harder, Cloud."

He complies, snapping his hips into you, the pace slowly picking up. You cry out and his hand comes off your wrists to clamp around your mouth before you woke up everyone else, his thrusts turning into a fast and rough pace, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing through the room. His breath was hot on your neck, panting.

"You want it rough?" 

"God, please, yes." He pulls out suddenly, flipping you over onto your chest, your ass hanging in the air. 

His hand came to your hip, slamming back into you, grabbing a handful of hair and yanking it back, forcing your back to arch. His pace was brutal, his hand leaving your hip, coming to the small of your back, holding you in that position. The room filled with nothing but the sound of his balls hitting your clit, the obscene wet noise of his cock slipping in and out. You bury your face into the pillow, muffling the noises spilling out of your mouth.

"God, you take my cock so well. Such a good girl." He groans. His pace begins to stagger, his dick twitching inside you. "Can't believe I had to wait this long for you."

He pulls your head back, pressing his chest against your back. He kisses and sucks at the skin of your neck, his hips snapping against your ass, the sound of the headboard knocking against the wall. His hand comes back down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles, and it was overwhelming. You felt tears form in the corner of your eyes.

"I'm so close."

"Me too."

"Come on, y/n, cum on my cock." His hips snapped again, and you couldn't hold back anymore. The knot in your stomach released, your legs shaking.

"Fuck." He groans, his hips stuttering and his hand coming down to grip your ass, feeling the convulsions of your body around his dick. "I'm going to cum inside."

"Please."

"You want it?"

"Uh-huh."

He buries himself inside, a guttural groan escaping his throat, the heat of his cum filling you up, twitching, his thrusts slowing, riding out his orgasm. His arms wrapped around your body, keeping you pressed against his chest, as you both lay there, panting, trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck." He chuckles. "That was..."

"Wow."

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"I'm seeing stars, I think. Or maybe I'm in love."

"You're definitely in love." He smiles, kissing your cheek. He thrusts deep into you one more time, his cock sensitive, the both of you moaning. "Round two?" He suggests.

"I'll die." He laughs and pulls out of you, you whimpering at the loss. He rolls onto his back, pulling you with him.

"I'll get you a pill tomorrow morning, okay?"

"I have an important question."

He wraps his arms around your waist, his forehead pressed against yours. "Go on."

"How did you learn how to fuck so good?"

"I had a lot of pent-up energy."

"So I was just an easy outlet?"

"Maybe."

"I don't want to hear another word."

"I'm joking. It was pent up feelings, you idiot."

"Or maybe you're just a man whore?"

"No, definitely not. Just pent up feelings, like I said."

"For how long?"

"Like a year."

"That's a long time."

"I know."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought you didn't like me."

"Cloud."

“Mm.”

“You’re stupid.”

“I know. We could’ve fucked sooner.”

"Is that what you're really thinking about?"

"Not really. I'm thinking about how good your pussy feels around my cock."

"You're gross."

"You're gross, you made me cum inside you. They're going to give us an earful tomorrow, they definitely heard us." He mumbles, littering kisses up and down your neck again, wrapping his arms around you tighter. 

"Guess we better get some sleep then?"

“Anything you say, princess.”

-

this is my first time writing smut. not sure how to feel about it. maybe a little too fast paced but very fun to write, learnt a lot.

[shdysders]

what we were

pairing: tara carpenter & reader

summary: in which you would’ve married tara, if she had stuck around.

word count: 4.9k

author’s note: just bare with me.

You had never planned on getting married.

It wasn't a conscious decision, just something that slowly etched itself into the back of your mind as the years passed.

Growing up, you'd watched your mother pick up the pieces after your father left, her quiet strength masking the pain that you knew lingered beneath the surface.

There was no bitter divorce or fiery arguments to signal his departure—just the gradual fading of a man who was once the center of your world.

One day, he was gone, leaving only the hollow echo of promises that were never meant to be kept.

Your mother never talked much about it, but you could see the toll it took on her.

How she would stare out of the kitchen window a little too long, lost in memories that were best left untouched.

You learned early on that love, in its most idealized form, was fragile—something that could shatter without warning, leaving you to pick up the shards.

So, you built walls, fortified them with indifference, and told yourself that you didn't need anyone to complete you.

Marriage was a fairy tale, one that you had long since stopped believing in.

That was, until you met Tara.

Tara, was everything you never knew you needed; sharp-witted, fiercely independent, with a heart bigger than she'd ever admit.

The first time you met her, you were caught off guard by how effortlessly she seemed to break through the walls you'd spent years constructing.

It wasn't just her smile, though that alone could've disarmed you; it was the way she looked at you, like she saw past the armor you wore and straight into the core of who you were.

You tried to keep your distance at first, reminding yourself that you didn't believe in forever. But Tara wasn't the kind of person you could easily push away.

She had this way of showing up when you least expected it, making you laugh when you wanted to be serious, and staying when you needed someone most—even when you couldn't admit it.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the idea of a life without her became more terrifying than the fear of losing her.

It wasn't that the old wounds from your past magically healed, or that the doubts you harbored suddenly disappeared.

But with Tara, the possibility of something lasting felt less like a fairy tale and more like something real—something you could hold onto, despite the uncertainties that lingered in the corners of your mind.

You found yourself imagining a future, not in the abstract way you used to, where it was always just you—alone and self-reliant—but a future that included her.

The thought scared you, but it also made you feel something you hadn't felt in a long time: hope.

It wasn't long before Tara started talking about you to her friends, and soon after, you found yourself meeting the people who meant the most to her.

A few months into your relationship, Tara built up the courage to allow you to meet Sam.

From everything Tara had told you about her sister, you quickly learned that Sam was hard to please.

She was fiercely protective, always scrutinizing anyone who got close to Tara, and you figured you'd be just another name on her list of disapprovals.

However, that was never the case.

Tara later explained how surprised she was when Sam actually warmed up to you.

She had told you how Sam had admitted that, for the first time, she didn't feel the need to interrogate or push you away.

Sam had seen something in you that made her feel comfortable, something that made her believe you were different from the others who had come before. It was an unspoken approval, one that Tara knew was rare and precious.

The approval was more than just a stamp of acceptance; it was a sign that maybe, just maybe, you were capable of the kind of love you'd always doubted existed—at least for you.

But even then, despite the closeness you and Tara shared, you never thought you'd be the kind of person who'd want to settle down, to make that ultimate commitment.

Marriage was still an abstract concept, one that other people did, but never you.

You had convinced yourself that you didn't need a ring or a ceremony to validate what you and Tara had.

But as the months turned into years, you started to realize that it wasn't about the validation. It was about wanting to build something with her—something lasting and undeniable.

You found yourself imagining a future where Tara was by your side, not just in an abstract sense, but in every way that mattered.

The thought of proposing crept into your mind one day, completely unbidden, and you immediately tried to push it away. You weren't the type to get down on one knee, to promise forever when you knew how easily forever could be taken away.

Yet, the idea persisted, lingering at the edge of your thoughts, especially during the quiet moments when Tara was asleep beside you, her hand resting gently on your chest, as if she was anchoring you to her.

You'd never imagined yourself as the kind of person who would propose to anyone. The very idea felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else's story. But with Tara, you started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, you'd been wrong all along.

It wasn't that you suddenly believed in marriage as a concept, but rather, you believed in what you had with Tara.

Maybe this was exactly the kind of story you wanted to write—a story where you weren't afraid to say, "I choose you," not just today, but every day for the rest of your life.

Two years into your relationship, you made the decision to propose.

Surprisingly, you had even gotten Sam's permission, something you never thought you'd need but found yourself seeking anyway, wanting her blessing before taking such a significant step.

The idea had been slowly taking shape in your mind, and now it felt like the right time. You wanted it to be perfect, not flashy or over-the-top, but something that felt true to both of you.

One of your usual date nights seemed like the perfect setting—familiar, yet with the potential to become something unforgettable.

You decided to make the night extra special. When you suggested going to a more expensive restaurant than your usual spots, Tara was visibly surprised.

She had raised an eyebrow and teased you about suddenly getting fancy, almost saying no because of the high prices.

But when you offered to cover everything, her smile had softened, and she had agreed.

You knew that Tara wasn't one for grand gestures or extravagant displays, which is why you kept the details simple yet meaningful.

The restaurant was intimate, with dim lighting and a cozy atmosphere, the kind of place where you could easily lose yourselves in conversation.

You had made sure to pick a spot that you knew Tara would love—somewhere that felt like the two of you, but elevated just enough to mark the occasion.

As the evening approached, you could feel the anticipation building, but there was also a sense of calm.

This wasn't about proving anything or trying to impress her; it was about sharing a moment that would forever change the course of your lives together, for the better.

You had planned every detail carefully, but more than anything, you just wanted to tell Tara exactly what you'd been feeling for so long—that you couldn't imagine a future without her, and that you didn't want to.

When the time finally came, you chose to wear the sundress that Tara had once told you she loved on you. It was a soft, flowing dress in a shade of pale blue that always made you feel both comfortable and confident.

You wore your hair half up, half down, just the way Tara liked it, with a few loose strands framing your face. You wanted to look your best, but more importantly, you wanted to look like yourself—the person Tara fell in love with.

Tara arrived in a sleek, black blouse paired with dark jeans, an outfit that was effortlessly chic and perfectly her.

The way she carried herself always took your breath away, and tonight was no different. But as you sat across from each other at the candle-lit table, you noticed that she seemed a bit off.

Tara was looking around nervously, her eyes darting from the menu to the other diners, then back to you, as if she had something else on her mind.

Your own nerves were starting to bubble up, the weight of what you were about to do making your heart race.

You couldn't shake the anxious thoughts running through your head—what if you didn't find the right words, or if the moment didn't go as planned?

But every time Tara's eyes met yours, you found yourself smiling. It was impossible not to. Even with the nerves, even with the uncertainty of how she might react, you knew that this was the right decision.

As you both settled into the evening, your food arrived, and you began eating, trying to keep the conversation flowing naturally despite the butterflies in your stomach.

You had it all planned out. The proposal was going to happen after you both had finished your meal.

You knew Tara's appreciation for surprises and had arranged something special with the restaurant staff. When the time came, a waitress would bring out a beautifully wrapped box, something you had requested to make the moment even more memorable.

It was a small gesture, but one that you knew Tara would appreciate—a carefully wrapped box with a heartfelt message inside that symbolized the depth of your feelings.

The idea was for Tara to open the box and discover a note or memento that would lead into the proposal.

The plan was for Tara to see the message first, giving you just enough time to reach for the ring and get down on one knee before she fully realized what was happening.

You imagined the look of surprise and joy on her face as she opened the box, unaware that this was just the beginning of the moment you had carefully orchestrated.

You kept up the conversation, trying to keep things light and natural despite the nervous energy building inside you.

Tara seemed a little distracted, still glancing around the room every now and then, but you didn't press her on it. You wanted everything to feel as normal as possible until the big reveal.

Every bite was a mix of anticipation and excitement, your heart pounding as you mentally rehearsed what you were going to say.

Tara, on the other hand, seemed to be in her own world, picking at her food more than usual and occasionally glancing around the room, almost as if she had something else on her mind.

You couldn't help but feel a bit of nervousness from her too.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that soon, you'd be asking the most important question of your life.

As you were both eating in comfortable silence, Tara suddenly set down her fork and shifted in her seat. She looked like she was trying to gather her thoughts, and then she spoke up, her voice soft but uncertain.

"So..." she began, her eyes filled with nervous energy as she looked up at you. You immediately sensed that whatever she was about to say was important, so you paused, giving her your full attention.

"I've been thinking about something," she continued, her words tentative, as if she was unsure how to start.

For a brief moment, a thought flashed through your mind—was she planning to propose too?

But that idea was quickly replaced by a gnawing feeling of concern as you noticed the hesitation in her voice, the way she avoided your gaze for just a moment too long.

"I'm not really sure how to say this," she finally said, her voice wavering slightly. "But... I've been having some doubts lately. Not about us, exactly, but about... where we're headed. About the future."

Her words hit you like a cold splash of water, and suddenly the nervousness you'd been feeling took on a different edge. You forced yourself to stay calm, to keep listening as she continued.

"It's not that I don't love you," she said quickly, as if she could see the worry in your eyes. "I do, so much. But I've been wondering if we're moving too fast, or if maybe... we're not moving in the same direction anymore. I've thought a lot about it, and I keep coming back to the same thing. I don't know if I can keep going like this, if this is what's best for either of us."

Tara's voice cracked slightly as she continued, her words coming out in a rush, as if saying them faster would somehow make them hurt less.

"I've been thinking about this for a while, and I didn't know how to bring it up because the last thing I want is to hurt you. But the more I've thought about it, the more I realized that maybe this is the right thing, for both of us. I don't want you to think that this is about you, or that you did something wrong, because you haven't. You've been nothing but amazing, but I just... I think maybe we've grown in different directions, or maybe I'm just not in the right place to be in a relationship right now."

"I think... I think we need to take a step back. Maybe a break, or maybe... we need to stop this altogether."

She paused only briefly before continuing, her words stumbling over each other as she tried to justify what she was saying.

"I mean, I don't even know if I'm making sense right now, and I'm probably messing this up completely. But I just don't want us to keep going down this path if it's not the right one, you know? I care about you so much, and that's why this is so hard. I wish I could just... make this easier somehow."

You felt your heart shatter with each word, your entire body going cold as the reality of what she was saying set in. Your face must have betrayed the sheer disbelief and devastation you felt because Tara's eyes softened, but it did nothing to ease the pain ripping through you.

Your hands, which had been steady on the table, began to tremble uncontrollably. You quickly pulled them into your lap, trying to hide the shaking but finding it impossible to stop.

The fork you had been holding clattered against your plate as you set it down, your fingers no longer able to maintain their grip.

It felt like your mind was racing and shutting down all at once. You couldn't focus on her words, the constant stream of explanations and apologies blending into a blur of noise that only amplified the void growing in your chest.

It was as though the ground had disappeared beneath your feet, leaving you suspended in a moment of pure, paralyzing disbelief.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it only seemed to grow, making it hard to breathe.

The sting of tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall, not here, not now.

Your lips parted, as if to say something, but no words came out. How could they, when everything you wanted to say felt too small, too insignificant compared to the enormity of what was happening?

The silence between you was suffocating, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat a painful reminder of the reality you were struggling to accept.

Tara's eyes were fixed on you, wide and pleading, as if she desperately wanted you to understand, to say something that would make this easier, but there was nothing you could offer her.

Your hands, now hidden beneath the table, clenched into fists so tightly that your nails dug into your palms, the pain barely registering against the overwhelming numbness that had settled in.

You could feel the warmth of the room closing in on you, the walls seeming to press closer as you fought to keep your composure.

Tara's voice broke the silence again, softer this time, almost a whisper. "I'm so sorry," she said, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I didn't want it to be like this. I wish I could take it all back, but I can't. I just... I didn't know how else to do this."

Her apology only added to the weight in your chest, and you could feel a tear finally escape, slipping down your cheek before you could stop it.

You quickly wiped it away, but it was too late—Tara had seen it, and the sight seemed to break something in her too.

She reached out, as if to comfort you, but hesitated, her hand hovering just above the table before she withdrew it again, uncertainty written all over her face.

It was as if she knew that any attempt to console you would only make things worse.

"I never wanted to hurt you," she whispered, the words barely audible as she looked down at her hands, now twisting together in her lap. "You have to believe that."

You wanted to scream, to demand why, to tell her how wrong she was, how she was breaking something that had been so good, so right.

But all you could do was sit there, frozen, as the weight of her words continued to sink in.

The future you had imagined, the plans you had started to make in your head—it all felt like it was crumbling before your eyes, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive, as you sat there, staring blankly at your lap. Tara's words seemed to hang in the air, and the weight of them was almost unbearable.

The tears you had been trying to hold back had started to fall more freely, slipping down your cheeks in a steady stream.

Tara watched you with a mix of anguish and desperation, her own eyes brimming with tears that she was struggling to keep at bay.

"Please," she said, her voice breaking as she finally spoke, "please say something."

Her plea was almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of her regret and her need for any kind of response from you. She was clearly tormented by the sight of you in pain and the realization that she was the cause.

As you sat there, lost in your turmoil, the restaurant's ambiance seemed to fade into the background.

The clinking of dishes and the soft murmur of conversations around you felt distant and muffled. The weight of the conversation you'd just had with Tara hung heavily in the air, each word echoing painfully in your mind.

Just then, the sound of footsteps approached your table, and a waitress appeared, holding a small, elegantly wrapped box. She smiled warmly as she set the box down in front of Tara. "Congratulations!" she said cheerfully.

The unexpected greeting cut through the somber mood, and Tara's eyes widened in surprise. Her gaze darted between the box and you, the reality of the situation hitting her with a jolt. "Oh... um, we didn't order anything like this," Tara said, her voice a mix of confusion and discomfort.

The waitress smiled politely. "It was actually a special request from someone who wanted to celebrate with you. I hope you enjoy it!"

Tara's face turned pale as the waitress walked away, leaving the box on the table. The cheerful congratulations seemed to hang in the air, contrasting starkly with the heavy silence that had enveloped the two of you.

As Tara stared at the box, the realization began to dawn on her. The weight of her words, the hurt she had caused, and the timing of this surprise all seemed to collide in her mind.

Her gaze fell back to you, the gravity of the moment settling in even more deeply. The congratulations, intended for a joyous occasion, now highlighted the painful irony of the situation.

Tara's hands trembled slightly as she reached for the box, her fingers hovering over it as if touching it might make the reality of what was happening even more real. "Is this... is this what I think it is?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of disbelief and dread.

You didn't respond right away, your eyes fixed on the box as well, but not really seeing it.

The moment you had spent weeks planning, imagining how it would unfold, had turned into a twisted echo of what it should have been.

The anticipation, the joy you had envisioned on her face, was replaced with this heavy, suffocating silence.

Tara's voice grew more desperate, almost pleading as she repeated, "Were you... were you going to propose?" Her eyes searched yours, looking for some kind of denial, something that could make this all less real, less painful.

You nodded slowly, your throat too tight to speak. The words you had prepared, the heartfelt confession of love and commitment, were now stuck somewhere deep inside, unreachable.

Tara's fingers trembled as she carefully unwrapped the box, her breath catching as she lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of velvet, was the ring—delicate, simple, and exactly her style. The realization hit her all at once, leaving her breathless.

She stared at it, eyes wide with the shock of realization.

She paused, her breath shaky as she tried to form a coherent thought. "I... I thought we were on the same page. I thought... God, I didn't mean for it to be like this."

You could see the tears welling up in her eyes, but you couldn't bring yourself to say anything. The words felt too heavy, too final. All you could do was sit there, the ring between you like a painful reminder of what could have been.

She looked up at you, her eyes filled with regret. "I... I didn't think..." she started, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words.

The box, meant to be a celebratory gesture, now seemed like a painful reminder of everything that was unraveling.

The sight of the box, coupled with the realization of how her actions had intersected with the surprise, only deepened the sadness in the room.

She knew that the box was part of a carefully planned proposal—a gesture that was supposed to mark a new chapter in your lives together.

Her thoughts were consumed by the realization of what you had intended.

She could almost see the moment you had envisioned: the box opening to reveal a heartfelt message or token that would lead into a proposal.

Tara had always admired how much thought you put into your plans, and she could imagine the love and hope you had poured into this gesture.

The irony of the situation hit her. Hard.

Here was a beautiful, wrapped box that was meant to symbolize a future together, and yet, it was now sitting in front of her at a moment when the future seemed so uncertain.

The very thing that was supposed to be a celebration of your commitment was now a reminder of the choice she had made.

Tara felt a deep pang of regret as she thought about how much you wanted to marry her, how you had envisioned this proposal as a milestone in your relationship.

How you had trusted her enough. 

She grappled with the realization that while you had been preparing to take a significant step forward, she was now pulling away.

The box represented everything she was suddenly unsure about, and the emotional weight of that contradiction was almost unbearable.

The anticipation and excitement she might have felt for the proposal were overshadowed by the painful reality of the moment, making her wish more than ever that things could be different.

As Tara struggled with the emotional weight of the moment, another waitress approached your table with a notepad in hand.

"Excuse me," she said with a bright smile, "are you ready to order your desserts?"

The question seemed to pierce through the heavy atmosphere, and you sniffled before looking up with tear-filled eyes. Your voice was barely above a whisper, trembling as you said, "I don't think we're staying for dessert. I think we're going to leave."

Tara's heart broke at the sight of you, her own tears threatening to spill as she saw the pain in your eyes.

The sadness in your voice, coupled with the way you tried to hold yourself together, was almost too much for her to bear.

The image of you standing there, so small and hurt, was a stark contrast to the joyful proposal you had imagined.

As you began to stand up, Tara's voice cracked as she reached out, her hands shaking. "Y/N, please don't leave."

She paused, searching for the right words, her voice filled with desperation. "Please, let's just... talk this through. I don't want to lose you like this. There's so much I need to say."

Tara's gaze was locked on you, her eyes pleading as she took a shaky breath. The pain of the situation was evident in her expression, and she hoped against hope that you would stay, if only for a little while longer.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure as you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's fine, Tara."

But your voice betrayed you, shaking as you said the words, even though nothing about this felt fine.

You wanted to say more, to explain how lost and hurt you felt, but the words caught in your throat, and all you could do was shake your head slightly. "I just... I don't know what to say."

You sniffled, quickly wiping away a tear that escaped before Tara could see it. "I'll talk to you later, okay?" But even as you said it, the words felt empty, like a promise you weren't sure you could keep.

Without waiting for a response, you stood up from the table, your movements stiff and mechanical, as if you were on autopilot.

Tara watched you, her eyes wide with guilt and fear, but she stayed silent, her throat tightening as she saw the pain etched on your face.

You turned to leave, and Tara instinctively stood up, almost as if to follow, but she stopped herself.

Her hand gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white as she held herself back. She knew she couldn't make this better right now, and the weight of that realization pressed heavily on her chest.

You pushed open the door, the night air hitting you as you stepped outside.

For a moment, you paused, feeling the tears threatening to spill over again, but you forced yourself to keep walking, each step taking you further away from the person you thought you'd spend your life with.

Inside the restaurant, Tara remained standing, her heart aching with a crushing guilt she couldn't shake.

She wanted to call out to you, to beg you to come back, but the words wouldn't come.

All she could do was watch as you disappeared into the night, the echo of your voice—the pain in it—ringing in her ears.

And as the door swung shut behind you, Tara was left standing there, alone, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on her.

She didn't move, didn't sit back down, just stood there, staring at the spot where you had been, feeling like everything had just slipped through her fingers.

But she knew, deep down, that following you wouldn't fix this—that nothing she could say right now would take away the hurt she had caused.

And that was something she would have to live with.

So she stayed where she was, the guilt heavy and suffocating, knowing that all she could do was wait and hope that this wasn't the last time she'd see you.

But she also knew that, for now, there was nothing more she could do.

Walking away, every step was taking you further from the life you thought you'd have, the future that had seemed so certain just hours before.

You had believed that you and Tara were writing the same story, that the future you both wanted was shared, built on a foundation of love and dreams whispered late into the night.

But standing there, with her words unraveling everything you thought was certain, you realized that while you had been planning a lifetime together, she had been questioning if that future was ever truly meant to be.

The hardest part wasn't just hearing her doubts—it was understanding that she had quietly let go of the future you were still holding onto.

She had left that future behind long before she ever said the words, moving on from the life you thought you would share.

And now, all that was left were the pieces of a dream that you had been building alone.

[wonlovie]

— ALWAYS.

After being broken up with, the cherry on top was receiving an invitation to your ex-boyfriend's wedding, leaving you breaking at the seams. Luckily for you, your childhood best friend is there to keep you together.

— starring. childhood bestfriend!jake x fem!reader ft. the slightest appearance of niki, mentions of ex!heeseung and le sserafim's chaewon (she was the first one i thought of LOL)

— tags. friends-to-lovers, slowburn, minor angst, jake is highkey a thigh guy, road trip!!, the oh-no-there's-only-one-bed trope several times over, smut [fem. masturbation while in the same bed, vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), handjob, very soft-dom!jake, first time, praising, unprotected sex, reader cries, use of petnames (princess, pretty girl, baby; he also calls you a whore/slut like,, twice) kind of but not really fwb situation [MINORS DNI]]

— word count. 14.3k

— notes. this is the first fic i've posted here!! i also started writing this like,, the day i got covid so if some sentences make zero sense it's because i was loopy af lmAOO on another note jake??? sim jake??? writing this wasnt good for my heart bc he was driving me insane the whOLE TIME

SIXTEEN DAYS.

When you got the invitation in the mail, a single piece of cardstock carefully decorated with ornate blue lace and beautifully handwritten script, you had half the mind to ignore it. Throw it in the trash, maybe. If the sender asked, you could feign innocence. It got lost in the mail, and perhaps I never received it at all.

Unfortunately for you, your conscience kicked you swiftly in the ass before you could even step on your trash bin pedal. 

Begrudgingly, you really had no choice but to go. After all, it was your cousin’s wedding—a day you had both raved about since you were young children. You could still recall the silly Pinterest boards you put together, regrettably filled with tacky and outdated decor. Your cousin, Chaewon, even called you before the invitation was sent to your box, her excited voice crawling out of your phone speaker and taunting you with sharp licks against your ear.

You should be happy. Really, you should. Aside from Lemon, your newly adopted Jindo puppy, Chaewon was your favourite. Despite moving across the country for university, you were there for her as she was for you. Not a single day went by without an hour-long phone call between the two of you, filled to the brim with conversation or spent in peaceful silence.

The issue wasn’t Chaewon. No, it was far worse than that. The issue was her husband-to-be, a man you despised with every cell of your being.

Lee Heeseung. In other words, your ex. 

It was jarring for you to see the very man who seemed to date you out of pity, never truly initiating intimacy or even trying to pretend to be interested in the things you’d tell him, be so sweet to Chaewon. You had, unfortunately, witnessed their love firsthand on multiple occasions. The longing glances, the whispered sweet nothings, the subtle caresses when they thought no one was looking. 

You hated how bitter you felt about it. His last words to you felt like they were tattooed onto your eyelids.

“I’m sorry, but… I don’t think we should date anymore. I think I’ve found someone else.”

Of course, you were heartbroken. Heeseung was your first boyfriend and your first love. You had tried so damn hard to be the receiver of his affections, but your efforts always fell short. The next week, Chaewon approached you with tears brimming her eyes, begging for forgiveness; you knew that whatever you had with Heeseung was officially history. 

Chaewon, the angel, denied his advances until you pushed her to say yes, as you knew she wanted to. 

And now, your decision had come full circle, the ugly truth rearing its head at you. Your feelings for Heeseung were long gone, but with the breakup came a hundred insecurities you didn’t know you had, hence the big move. Maybe with space, you could heal.

“Stupid,” you whispered as your eyes scanned the invitation for the nth time in the past ten minutes. You rubbed harshly at your eyes, forcing the tears away. With a shaking finger, you traced the wedding date, briefly glancing up at the dog calendar that hung on the wall next to your fridge. 

Gingerly dropping the invitation onto the kitchen counter, you quietly counted the days left. The wedding was just over two weeks away, a beautiful August wedding. You don’t know how long you stood there, goosebumps prickling on your thighs as the morning air brushed against them. Your oversized tee did little to combat the cold.

A quiet knocking at the door made you jump. Swearing under your breath, you swiped at your cheeks to rid any evidence of tears. You shuffled to the front door and peeked through the peephole. A man stood there, hands in his jeans pockets, as he waited for you to answer. However, his head was down, which blocked his face from view.

When you didn’t answer right away, he knocked again just as gently as he had before. This time, though, he called out your name. 

Startled, you paused with your hands pressed against the door, eyes still pressed against the peephole. You knew that voice, instantly recognizing the accent that spilled into his words. Pulling the door open, your suspicions were correct when you were met with your childhood best friend, Jake.

A wide grin pulled at the corners of your lips as you looked the man up and down. “Holy shit,” you started, laughter in your voice. “What are you doing here?” Stepping back to let him in, you eyed his wide shoulders as he bent over to untie his shoes. “You never said you were coming to visit.”

Jake lazily smiled up at you as he tugged off the last shoe. His eyes drifted down for a second, catching sight of your bare legs. Not a moment later, he averted them. “Damn, hello to you too, sweets.” When he stood to his full height, he leaned into a comfortable slouch, shoving his hands into the pockets of his well-worn jeans. “Chaewon didn’t tell you?” He tilted his head at you in question.

Shaking your head no, you headed to the kitchen where you left your phone. Finding your chatroom with Chaewon, you scanned the contents quickly. “Look—”

You turned to show Jake your previous texts, but as you swivelled on your heel, you hadn’t expected him to be so close. You jumped slightly, the small of your back pressing into the cool countertop as Jake hovered over you, seemingly inches away. You could practically count his every lash from your angle, not missing how his eyes scanned your face.

Apparently, he didn’t expect to be so close either, as the tips of his ears reddened. “My bad,” as he moved to give you space. He pushed back his hair—when had he dyed it blonde?— to see your screen better. Reading quickly, he snorted at Chaewon’s lack of warning for his arrival, her last message simply being: ;).

“I thought you knew I’d be coming, so I didn’t bother sending a text,” he explained. “Chae wants me to be your escort to the wedding.”

“My what?”

Jake grinned at you, flashing his pearly whites. “Y’know, your stead. Your chauffeur. Your knight in shining armour, if you will.”

“Those aren’t the same in the slightest, Jake.”

“You get what I mean, sweets.” 

You hummed, resting your palms atop the counter by your sides. “Why so early, though? The wedding isn’t for a couple of weeks.” He opened his mouth to say something, but a sharp yip from your bedroom interrupted him. You practically watched as elation flooded his senses when he spun on the spot, searching for the sound source.

Pushing yourself off the counter, you lightly bumped his shoulder with your own as you manoeuvred around him. “Looks like someone’s awake,” you sang as you headed down the hall. You could hear Jake’s heavier, sock-clad footsteps following you into your bedroom as you called out for Lemon.

The little pup bounded toward you, jumping from your bed with a tail that wagged so fast you were concerned she’d sprain it. With her tongue out, she hopped on her hind legs, unsure of whether she should greet you or Jake first. “Lemon, this is Jake,” you introduced as you picked her up. Gently moving her paw in a waving motion, you smiled at him. “Jake, this is the love of my life, Lemon.”

He sent you a teasing smile, “I thought that was my title.” You flushed at the unexpected remark. Before you could respond, he turned to Lemon with a soft expression. “Hi, Lemon. Hope you’re taking good care of sweets for me.” Cooing at the pup, he booped her nose.

Without a word, you motioned for him to follow you back to the living room, situating yourself on the small leather couch worn from years of hand-me-down use. Lemon hopped off your lap, her tail wagging as she beckoned Jake to sit down. He was quick to join you, sitting close enough for your knees to touch when Jake shifted his body to face you. You scanned him up and down.

He’d changed a bit, clearly, since the last you saw him. He wasn’t nearly as scrawny as before, his broad frame apparent from under his unzipped jacket. He had lost the baby fat in his cheeks, leaving behind a sharp jawline. The biggest change to note was his hair. Long gone were the black tresses, and in their place were soft blond locks.

In other words, he was hot.

“When did this happen?” you asked as he shrugged his jacket off, reaching up to twist a strand with your finger. “It looks good on you.”

Jake sent you a teasing look, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. “You would’ve known I went blond like a month and a half ago if you actually read your messages,” he chided, clicking his tongue. His eyes stayed on you, flitting across your face.

“Whatever,” you hushed, “I’ve just been busy with school.” It's a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. No one needed to know that you’ve spent the last few months acting like a heartbroken teen when you were a grown adult. Despite Jake having seen the worst parts of you in high school, you still wanted him to hold some esteem for you.

For a second, it was quiet aside from Lemon’s quiet sniffing, her nose working quickly on Jake’s discarded coat. Jake held eye contact with you, a silent question reflected in his eyes. 

“It’s still weird to me.”

Raising a brow, you rested your elbow on the back of the couch, resting your head against your palm. “What is?”

He stayed silent for a minute before leaning back against the couch, turning his head slightly to face you. “I can’t just walk down the block to annoy you now. Now, you’re four hours away unless I want to spend a few hundred on a plane ticket.” He stuck out his tongue, “‘Dunno why you didn’t stay.” His voice was light, teasing, but you could hear a slight edge to his words.

You huffed, “You know exactly why I left.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. When Heeseung broke up with you, Jake was the first one you told. Despite being an incoherent, blubbering mess over the phone, he came the instant he heard the first sob rack your body. That night, he held you without a word until your tears ran dry.

“You still hung up about it?”

Pausing, you shook your head. “No,” you bit your lip, not catching the way his eyes darted down to watch, “not anymore, anyway. I don’t feel anything for Heeseung if that’s what you’re asking.” You cracked a sardonic smile at him, punching his shoulder and chuckling when Lemon followed your movement. “Not that pathetic yet, Jake.”

He fully turned his body to you, the leather couch squeaking under his shifting weight. His golden hair fell into his eyes as he bore into yours. “I was there, remember?” His voice was gentle as if he was worried he’d scare you off. “I know it hurt more than you’re letting on. It wasn’t that long ago.”

You silently cursed him for still being able to read you so well, even after so long apart. Absentmindedly, you tugged on the hem of your shirt, playing with the edge that was starting to fray after years of use. Jake leaned forward, placing a warm hand on your bare thigh. “I’ll be there the whole time. If you want me to, I’ll stay right beside you the whole night.”

Your eyes darted to where his large hand rested on your skin, swallowing harshly. “Yeah,” you whispered, looking back up at him through your lashes. “That’d be… really nice, Jake.” You shakily exhaled; his proximity and his touch made your every nerve go haywire. Since when did Jake, your best friend since you were in diapers, have this effect on you? Looking up at the mop of messy blond on his head, you blamed the change in colour.

Jake didn’t say anything for a while but never moved his hand. The two of you sat there, staring into each other's eyes. Lemon had long ago gotten comfy in the small space between you, round eyes closed in rest. “I’ll always be there for you, you know that, right?” He said finally, voice barely above a whisper.

You could only nod, your every thought directed to the hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing circles on the inside of your leg.

You offered Jake your shower while you went to get his luggage from his car. At first, he refused, telling you that he could get the luggage himself and take a shower afterward, but you had practically shoved him into the bathroom, claiming he smelt bad from the drive. 

Truthfully, he smelt good as ever, having always possessed an addicting scent to you.

Besides, this way, you could clear your head with some fresh air as you left and headed to your apartment parking lot. Easily spotting his car, much newer than any of the models your neighbours had, you jogged over to it. Once inside, you noted how clean the car was, coming as somewhat of a surprise to you. A carwash receipt peaked out from the middle console.

Lugging his suitcase out from the backseat, you were quick to make your way back, lest Jake be left without clothes for too long. Shutting your front door behind you, you nearly let out a scream when, on cue, Jake emerged from a cloud of steam, donning only your fluffy blue towel. He hadn’t noticed you yet, using another towel to shake out the excess water from his hair.

Unknowingly, your eyes followed a bead of water as it trailed down his toned body, disappearing under the towel that threatened to unravel itself, sending your mind into a frenzy. Turning around before he could realize that you were ogling at him like some pervert, you cleared your throat. “Got your suitcase,” you forced out. “You can change in my room if you want.”

“Ah, thanks, sweets.” You listened for his footsteps, tensing as they came closer. “Why so shy?” He inquired with a chuckle at the tip of his tongue. “‘S not like you’ve never seen me naked before.”

“Jake, we were five.”

“Still,” he laughed. You were startled when he patted your shoulder, gently turning you to face him more. You swallowed harshly at the sight of his naked chest up close. “Joking. Thanks for grabbing my stuff.” Without another word, he turned around and disappeared behind your bedroom door.

Letting out a breath, you pressed your forehead against the cool surface of your front door, holding a hand over your heart. Lemon’s tiny paws brought her over to you, the click clicks of her nails against the hardwood taking your attention away from your thoughts. She looked up at you, her head tilted as though she was questioning you. “I must be going crazy, huh?” You knelt down to let her jump on you, her front paws pressing into your leg. 

“Layla’d love her,” Jake’s voice interrupted. You looked up to see him dressed in comfy attire, a dim disappointment settling in your stomach. “You hungry? I can order something for us.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up. “You’re my guest, Jake. I can order.” You pulled out your phone and open a delivery app. Before you could get too far, the phone was taken from your grasp, left in Jake’s palm as he stared at you in challenge.

With a shake of his head, he denied you. “I may be your guest, but you’re also housing me for two weeks. Plus, I haven’t seen you in forever.” He hunched over to meet your eyes, “My treat. You can pay next time, promise.”

By the time the food arrived, you and Jake had settled in on the couch, a random movie playing on the TV. Quiet chatter filled the space. The movie had already been forgotten, acting as mere background noise to your conversation. You dug into your food without missing a beat, covering your mouth to retort whenever Jake would make a jab at you. 

“You never got to answer my question,” you prompted, putting down your chopsticks and resting the take-out container on the coffee table. “Why’d you come so early? Why not closer to the wedding?”

You watched Jake pause, his expression unreadable. “Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to see you?” he asked, voice low as he turned to look at you. His blond hair had been pushed up and back so many times strands framed his face, allowing you to see all of it. “Because I do,” he continued, shrugging as if he weren’t making your heart race, “I want to see you. All the time.”

Unsure of how to respond, you sputtered for a moment before turning away, your cheeks warm. “I’ve wanted to see you too,” you mumbled, “so thanks. For coming.”

“For you? Always.”

Rolling your eyes, you bumped Jake with your shoulder. “When did you get so cheesy?”

Jake pulled his lower lip under his teeth for a second, biting at the plump flesh as he mulled over an answer. “Just missed you, is all.”

Nodding, you turned your head to watch the rest of the movie. It was confusing since neither of you watched the first half. Beside you, Jake turned to do the same. If either of you noticed how the space between you had become nonexistent, thighs and shoulders pressed together, no one said a word. You couldn’t complain, enjoying how Jake’s warmth seeped through his clothes and into your skin.

Without realizing it, the both of you fell asleep. The TV had gone dark after hours of inactivity, the moon lighting up the room with a dark hue. Jake awoke first, grumbling when his neck had a familiar ache in it. But when he went to roll his shoulder, something was in the way. Or rather, someone. He turned, pursing his lips to stay quiet as he realized you were leaning on him.

Your legs were draped over his own, something you must’ve done in your sleep. Or maybe it was him searching for a source of warmth in the coolness of the night. His arm was wrapped around your shoulder, your head fitting directly in the crook of his neck. He felt his skin burn as he swore quietly. Pulling out his phone, he glanced at the time.

3:02 a.m.

As slowly as he could, he hooked one arm under your knees and the other around your back. Standing, he hoped his racing heart wouldn’t wake you. Jake maneuvered the dark apartment as best he could without accidentally hitting your head against the walls of your hallway. Luckily, you left your bedroom door open, so he didn’t need to figure that out somehow. 

Lemon was already asleep, curled up on your left pillow. Carefully, he laid you down on the bed, pushing away stray hairs on your face afterward. He stayed there for a moment, staring at your peaceful expression. His heart warmed, a tingly feeling in his belly erupting at the sight of you. He tugged the blanket over your body, pressing a finger to his lips when Lemon startled awake.

Tucking you in, he hovered for a minute before pressing a soft kiss against your forehead. “Night, sweets,” he whispered before moving to his feet. Before he could get very far, a hand shot out from under the blanket and weakly grasped at his wrist. Turning, Jake held a breath at the sight of your sleepy eyes gazing up at him. “Only have one bed,” you slurred, sleep taking over your speech. “Sleep here.”

Jake balked at you, hands subconsciously balling at his sides. “Are you sure? I can sleep on the couch—”

“No! Sleep here.” You didn’t give him much room to argue as you scooted backwards to give him some room before lifting the blanket in invitation. This movement bugged Lemon, clearly, as she moved from your pillow to lay in the nook of your bent legs. “Come on, we’ve slept in the same bed before.”

Swallowing at the sight of you, eyes barely open and shirt riding up further than he could handle, Jake relented, knowing you would keep arguing with him until daylight. The last time we slept in the same bed, you were bawling your eyes out over Heeseung, he stopped himself from saying. The thought lingered as he crawled in next to you, keeping a respectful distance. 

Satisfied, you allowed your heavy lids to close, a small, contented smile painted on your lips. “G’night, Jake.”

He sighed. “Good night, sweets.”

You fell asleep instantly, hand resting on the pillow in front of your face. Jake mirrored your position, your pinkies centimetres from touching. He observed the slow rise and fall of your chest and the occasional sniffs when your hair would fall and tickle your nose. His eyes traced your every feature, from the curve of your cheek to your supple lips. 

Jake did not sleep well that night.

FOURTEEN DAYS.

Two days after Jake had made an appearance, he quickly fell into a routine with you. He would wake up first and have a cup of coffee ready for you whenever you’d sleepily bound into the kitchen. A bowl of cereal would already be sitting on the counter, the jug of milk sitting beside it. Your mornings were quiet as you both woke up, only a raspy “good morning” before you’d sit in silence over your bowls.

It had been a long time since you had such normalcy, and you’d be lying if you said you hated it.

“Hey,” he started, only half done chewing his cereal. “We have, like, two weeks left until we actually need to be in Seoul, right?”

You eyed him suspiciously for his cheery tone so early in the morning. Swallowing your food first, you nodded. “Yeah, but Chae wants us back at least two days before in case things need fixing or whatever.” Sipping your coffee, you raised a brow at him, “Why?”

Grinning at you, he leaned over to grab your arm in excitement. Your eyes darted to where you connected, noting how his thumb immediately started rubbing the inside of your wrist, making you cross your legs under the table. “Let’s make our trip back a road trip!”

You blinked. “Jake. You drove here—it was already going to be a road trip to go back.”

Jake threw his head back in a groan, inadvertently showing you his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down. You followed the movement down to his wide shoulders before looking away a second before he straightened up to meet eyes with you. “Dummy, I know that. Let’s make it a fun road trip with loads of stops and everything!” He talked animatedly, waving his hands with reckless abandon. “There are lots of small towns and pitstops on the way to Seoul, but we’ve never actually explored them.”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

Jake looked at you as if you had grown two heads. “If you have and I wasn’t invited, your best friend card is being revoked this instant. You hear me? Revoked.”

Laughing, you stood and grabbed both of your empty bowls. “Fine, we can have your fun road trip. You’re doing all the planning, though, since it was your idea.” You tilted his coffee mug toward you to see if he had finished it, placing it back where it was when you saw the brown liquid still swirling inside. He followed you to the sink, sleeves already rolled up when you placed the porcelain into the basin.

You didn’t say anything when he gently pulled you to the side and grabbed the sponge to start cleaning. “I already have the route!” He told you, not taking his eyes off the dishes. “It’s in my phone. You can look—it’s in the notes app.” Peaking at you through his lashes, he nodded his head in the general direction of where he left his phone. “Password’s still the same.”

You snorted, picking it up from the table before joining him at the sink, hopping up on the counter beside him. As you entered your birthyear into the phone, you didn’t catch the way he eyes your thighs, your shorts doing little to nothing to cover up the way they flattened slightly against the cool marble. “Y’know,” you started, ripping him out of his thoughts, ushering him to quickly place the bowls and spoons onto your drying rack. “This is a shitty password. You’re gonna get robbed one day.”

 He shrugged, pulling the hand towel off your oven’s handle to dry his hands. You watched him, silently ogling at the veins that popped out in his forearms when he turned to replace the towel. “Maybe, but it’s important to me.”

“My birth year?”

He grinned at you with a simple nod, standing between your thighs. His eyes fell to them once more when you absentmindedly spread your legs to give him room to stand. Biting the inside of his cheek, he shakily rested his palms on either side of you, moving slow enough for you to object if you were uncomfortable. "It's the year my favourite person was born, after all." You didn’t say anything, instead looking back at his phone screen.

He watched as your eyes flit back and forth as you read, his fingers itching to move closer to you, to touch your skin. He opted to curl his fingers until his nails dug into his palms. “When did you figure this out?” You asked, smiling at the title of the note.

Sweets and Jake’s Road Trip !!!

“Last night, while you slept.”

You shot him a look, searching for eye bags. You were relieved when you didn’t see any, but you punched his shoulder nonetheless. “Idiot. If you can’t sleep, you can wake me, you know? You don’t have to stay up by yourself.” You placed a hand on his forearm, rubbing your thumb over a jutting vein just as he had to you moments before.

His urge to touch you grew stronger, and he felt his mental fortitude crumbling at the contact. Clearing his throat, Jake shrugged. “You’re cute when you sleep, princess. Didn’t want to wake you.” Moving away before your scent could drive him any more insane, he rubbed the back of his neck. “So? What’s the verdict?”

Lips parted from his casual slip of a nickname you’d never heard from him before, you dumbly nodded. “Good. It’s good. Let’s do it.” You hopped down from the counter, Jake’s hands immediately moving to steady you once you got on your feet. “When do we leave?”

Jake grinned at you, revealing his canines. “Whenever you’re ready, sweets.”

You returned the smile, excitement starting to affect you. “Let’s get ready then, shall we?”

It didn’t take either of you very long to get your suitcases and essentials put together. Jake had mostly kept his things in his suitcase, only pulling out clothes he needed for the day or toiletries that you didn’t have any to spare. Two toothbrushes sat in a cup instead of the usual one, and the sight made you grin as you collected your things. Chaewon had your dress up in Seoul, so you didn’t need to worry about any of that either.

An hour after Jake proposed the road trip, he was waiting outside, one hand clasped over both of your luggage handles, the other holding Lemon’s carrier as you locked the door. The two of you walked out to his car in silence, the crisp morning air making you shiver under your thin jacket. “It’s still summer,” you complained in a long drawl, “why is it so fucking cold in the morning?”

Jake laughed at you, thanking you when you opened the back door of his car for him and carefully slid the luggage and carrier in. “Relax, princess, I’ll turn the heat on just for you, yeah?”

You grumbled at his teasing, taking your spot in the passenger seat without a word as he held the door open for you. You watched him jog around the car to reach his side, never taking your eyes off him as he fiddled with the A/C. As he turned the ignition on, he handed you his phone. “Put something on for me, will you?” 

As he drove, you noted the fact that he drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the middle console. His arms were exposed in the black tee he wore, seemingly not as affected by the cold as you were. You willed yourself not to notice how the shirt was unfairly form-fitting, wrapping around the bulk of his bicep in a way that was sending you spinning. 

The first stop was five minutes away from your apartment as Jake pulled into the parking lot of a nearby convenience store. Jake unrolled the windows a bit for Lemon, telling her to be good as the both of you exited the vehicle. Once inside, you shivered at how strong the store had its A/C running. 

Eyeing you, Jake sent you a smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll be quick.”

Without another word, you followed as Jake made his way through the different aisles, picking up snacks that you easily recognized as some of your favourites. Even grabbing a heat pack, he waved it at you teasingly. “Weirdo, needing a heat pack in the middle of August.”

You sputtered, “Wha— I never asked you to—”

Interrupting you with a bark of a laugh, he shook his head. “Just poking fun. C’mon, let’s go. Lemon’s probably waiting for us.” You huffed but didn’t argue as he pulled you to the front cashier by the hand. You trained your sight on your connected hands, moving them so your fingers interlaced. Jake briefly looked down at what you’d done, but if it bothered him, he didn’t say anything.

“Oh, it’s you!”

To both your surprise and Jake’s, the cashier’s eyes lit up when he saw you. “We had English together,” he filled in when you didn’t seem to recognize him. “We were in a group project together for the final?” You blinked a few times before making a noise of recognition.

“Riki! Sorry, I didn’t recognize you with the new hair,” you explained, glancing at his newly dark brown hair. “It was blond before. Looks good now, though!” You gave him a thumbs up. Before he could reply beside you, Jake cleared his throat. Both you and Riki looked at him, realizing that the latter hadn’t even started ringing your items through, and there was a bit of a line behind you.

Riki immediately started scanning the snacks Jake had brought, never taking his eyes off you. “What’re you up to this summer? I haven’t seen you at all since the semester ended.”

You hummed, “My cousin’s wedding is in two weeks, so Jake and I—” You nudged him, not noticing how quiet he had gotten. “—are driving back to Seoul right after this.”

The younger boy nodded, glancing over at Jake before looking down at your hands. You forgot they were still intertwined, but Jake's grip tightened when you went to let go. You dropped your head to hide how warm your cheeks felt, biting your lip lightly. “Ah,” Riki put down the scanning gun, his tone noticeably less happy. “₩9000, please.”

Jake threw a few crumpled notes on the counter before bowing his head slightly in goodbye, tugging you toward the exit wordlessly. You waved at Riki over your shoulder before walking quickly to fall in step with Jake. “You okay? You were quiet in there, and then you pulled us out like that.”

Jake only nodded, carelessly tossing the bag of snacks into the back with your luggage. “Here,” he tossed you the heat pack, already cracked and warming up. He opened your door again without further explanation before taking his own seat.

You stared at his profile in confusion, the heat pack already doing its job on your frigid hands. As he pulled back onto the road, you glanced at his hand, which rested over the middle console as it had before.

Curiously, you turned his wrist until his palm was facing upward. Jake watched you from the corner of his eye, only turning his head when he reached a red light. He hadn’t expected you to put your hand in his, interlocking your fingers once again. “Your hands are warmer,” you mumbled, leaning back to get comfortable. In shock, Jake hadn’t taken his eyes off of you.

Smiling tightly at him, you squeezed his hand. “The light’s green.”

Snapping his head forward, he coughed as he focused on the road. For the next while, your hand would stay in his. The ride to the next town was spent in silence, with you mouthing the lyrics to songs you recognized from his playlists. 

In Jake’s phone, he had written that you were to stay at motels in towns along the way. When you protested at the cost it would be, he simply argued with it’s for the experience, sweets. And no worries! I’m paying for the whole trip. And when you argued with that last bit, he only replied, if I see your wallet at all, I might have to fight you.

Your first real stop was in a small fishing village, the last coastal town you’d see before you started driving inland. The morning chill was gone, replaced with the comforting warmth of the summer sun. Despite that, you didn’t let go of Jake’s hand until you had to get out of the car. Stretching your limbs, you groaned when you felt and heard some joints pop. 

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as you took in the smell of the ocean and the distant chatter of nearby townspeople. The motel Jake brought you to was a little rundown; it was obvious that it had been around for quite some time. The paint was peeling a bit, and the shingles on the roof made it look dated, but it had a cozy feel to it. Besides, it was the only dog-friendly motel in the area, so you couldn’t afford to be choosy.

“Hello,” the old woman at the receptionist's desk greeted you kindly, eyes shifting from you to Jake. You smiled at her, bowing your head in respect. Besides you, Jake did the same with that easygoing grin of his. “How may I help you?”

“A room for two, please,” said Jake.

The woman nodded, looking over at the remaining room keys. Grabbing one, she handed it over to you before telling Jake how much it’d cost. As Jake fumbled with his wallet, the old woman looked at you fondly. “You two are precious,” she informed you with an air of nostalgia, her wrinkled hand resting atop her chest over her heart. “I remember when me and my late husband were your age.”

You blushed at her insinuation that you and Jake were together but found that the idea wasn’t as jarring as you thought it’d be. You couldn’t tell if Jake didn’t catch the comment or chose not to reply as he handed her the money she needed. 

It wasn’t hard to find your room out of the ten total, and you were pleased to see that the coziness of the outside continued inside. Jake wheeled your luggage in while you opened Lemon’s carrier, letting her roam free in the room, sniffing the foreign air. The room itself wasn’t too big, consisting of the main room that could only fit a single queen bed and not much else and a bathroom that was longer than it was wide. 

“It’s like we’re teens again,” you giggled at Jake, shrugging off your jacket. “We’re sharing beds often.”

Jake let out a breath at the realization that there really was only one bed again and nodded stiffly. He supposed that was his fault for not mentioning how many beds you needed. “I guess so,” he gazed at you tenderly. “You sure you don’t mind?”

You rolled your eyes at him, “You can cut the gentleman act with me, Jake. If I minded, I would’ve said something already. We shared a bed in my apartment, remember?”

Of course I remember, he thought, it was driving me crazy.

In truth, Jake hasn’t been able to sleep because of how cuddly you were in your sleep. He’d purposely lay as far as he could from you so as not to give in to any temptations, but it seemed like you had other plans whenever you laid your head to rest. Not two minutes after he’d heard your soft snores, your hands were reaching for him, pulling you closer to his torso until you were snuggled up against him. 

He may have only been staying with you for two days, but he’s had to take just as many cold showers before you woke up.

“Do you wanna go on a walk?” you asked once the two of you settled. Lemon sat by your feet, circling them by looping under the chair you sat on to entertain herself. “It’d be nice to venture out! I think poor Lemon’s a bit restless from the carrier.” You bent over to rub behind her ears, to which she let out a yip of approval.

Jake smiled softly at the sight before nodding. “Let’s go, then.”

Thankfully, Lemon was an off-leash dog and stayed close by as you walked the streets of an unfamiliar town. In the distance, seagulls cried out to each other as fishing boats pushed off from the harbour. The sound of the sea lulled you into a peaceful reverie. You and Jake walked side by side, fingers brushing against each other every so often.

“It’s nice here,” you mumbled, “we should have done this sooner.”

Jake hummed, the low noise rattling in your ears. You closed your eyes as you walked, fully trusting Jake to guide you if you were going to walk into anything. He smiled softly at the sight of your relaxed demeanour, moving to hold your hand. You walked in silence for a bit before you reached the shore. Jake spotted some beach chairs, pulling you along. Lemon bounded ahead, happy to have room to run. You cracked open your eyes in time to see her jump into the water, barking happily as she entertained herself.

“Next time, you should bring Layla,” you suggested as you sat down. 

Jake smiled down at your hands. “Yeah, next time.”

Silence fell upon you, but it wasn’t unwelcome. You both watched Lemon as she played in the water, occasionally coming up to bring you a rock she had found before hopping back into the puddles the tide was creating. All the while, your hands stayed clasped, with Jakes's thumb rubbing familiar circles on the back of your palm.

“Why did you move so far?”

You halted, your smile slipping. “You asked me already.”

“But you weren’t being completely truthful with me.” He looked at you, concern shining in his eyes. “You’re not over it, are you?”

The topic dampened your mood, your heart rate rising as you avoided eye contact. “I told you already, Jake. I don’t love Heeseung anymore. I’m fine,” you pressed, lying through your teeth. Lying to Jake always left a bitter taste in your mouth, as you knew he could tell immediately that it wasn’t the truth. “What kind of cousin would I be if I were still in love with her groom-to-be?”

Jake’s frown deepened. “You have the right to be hurt—”

“But I’m not! So drop it.” Your outburst garnered the attention of a few townspeople who were out and about, causing you to flush in embarrassment. Lowering your voice, you stared down at the rocky beach, digging your dirtied trainers into the course sand. “I’m fine.”

Unbelieving, Jake continued, “It’s just… I thought you had enough reason to stay.”

His words made you look up, annoyed at how much he was pressing the topic on you. “Clearly, I didn’t.” Shaking your head, you dropped his hand before standing to your feet and dusting off imaginary dirt from your pants. You looked down at him, a mistake as you were forced to look at his hurt expression, lip trembling as he stared up at you open-mouthed. “I’m going back.”

He only watched your back as you walked away, beckoning Lemon to follow. The poor puppy got out of the water, shaking off the excess. She ran toward you but paused and looked back at Jake. She tilted her head as if she were asking Aren’t you coming? before running after you.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, shellshocked, until he realized that the sun was starting to set. Deciding he had been out there long enough, Jake slowly made his way back to the motel. When he got to your room, he hesitated, knowing that you could easily lock him out for the night if you were still upset with him since you had the only key.

Jake stood there, mulling over whether or not he should try knocking, but before he could even decide, the door opened. He was met with you, tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. “Don’t just stand there,” you opened the door more for him to come in. His heart broke at the sight of you and at how wet your voice sounded, as if you had just finished crying.

“Sweets, I’m sorry—” 

You shook your head, holding up a hand to stop him. “No, you did… you did nothing wrong. I shouldn’t have exploded at you like that or left you alone out there.” You looked down in shame, gnawing at your bottom lip. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

He was quick to lift your chin with two fingers, keeping them there as he rested his other hand on your upper arm. “Hey, no, none of that. I shouldn’t have pushed you when you obviously didn’t want to talk about it.” He pushed your hair behind your ear before bringing you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your head in his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head before muttering in your ear, “I’m sorry, sweets. I promise I won’t ask about it until you tell me you’re ready.”

You let go of the hug, but Jake kept you close in his arms. Looking into his eyes with welled-up tears, you pouted slightly, bringing his gaze downward. “You’re sure you’re not upset with me?”

“With you, never, sweets.”

You opened your mouth but closed it before you could say anything. Hugging him again, your voice came out muffled. “Wanna sleep.”

Jake chuckled at you, dropping his head in disbelief. “Okay.”

Not long after, you were both situated in bed, with Lemon lying at your feet like usual. As he had for nights before, Jake kept his distance, but you quickly changed that. For the first time, you cuddled up to him while you were awake, fully aware of your actions. Jake’s breath halted as he felt you nuzzle your face into the soft fabric of his tee, which smelt so strongly of him that it was all you could smell. “I love you,” you whispered into his skin, sending his brain into a frenzy. “You’re the bestest friend I could’ve ever asked for.”

Jake could practically hear the record screech in his head, gritting his teeth a bit before relaxing his jaw to leave another soft kiss against your temple. “I love you too, sweets.”

The day had exhausted him more than he’d realized. For the first time in two days, Jake found himself falling asleep right after you, holding you tightly against his chest.

You awoke to the feeling of something warm attached to your neck. A quiet moan escaped your lips when the something bit down. You felt large hands explore the expanse of your side, your sleeping shirt pushed far up. Something hard poked against your thigh as you angled your head upward.

Your eyes fluttered open as you realized it was Jake, groaning as he nipped at your skin, leaving behind blossoms of red and purple. You moved your hips closer to his, gasping when his growing hard-on made contact with your clothed sex. “Fuck, baby, you don’t know what you do to me,” he uttered, his deep voice going straight to your groin. Your panties, you were sure, were already soaked with your slick.

“Please,” you whined as he bit down harder, and his hand roamed higher, tracing the curve of the underside of your breast with his fingers. His mouth felt oh-so-hot on your skin, and his teasing touch did little to alleviate it. “Show me, Jake. Show me what I do to you.”

He pulled back, ignoring the noise of disappointment you made. His eyes looked impossibly dark as he hovered over you, chest heaving. “Be careful what you wish for, pretty girl.” He easily flipped you onto your back, slotting himself between your legs. You moaned loudly when he ground his hips against yours, allowing you to feel just how hard he’d gotten. 

His lips met yours in a hungry kiss, tongue forcing itself past your lips to lick into your mouth. His hands moved wildly, pushing your shirt up until your breasts were fully uncovered, nipples pebbling in exposure to the cold air. “So beautiful,” he groaned into your ear as one hand kneaded your left breast. “Fuck, gonna make you mine, yeah? You want that?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed pathetically, a sob of need ripping through your throat as his free hand made its way to your shorts. “Please, Jake, need you so badly.”

He groaned again, pushing past the elastic waistband and guiding his fingers into your soaked panties. He moved down to collect your wetness and…

You breathed in harshly when you woke up, your heart racing faster than it ever had before. You blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness of the room, remembering where you were. Your chest heaved as you tried to calm yourself down, your face burning. Oh my god, you thought in slight mortification.

Jake’s arm rested over your middle, you realized, as he spooned you from behind. Your startle hadn’t woken him, his soft snores sounding in your ear canals. You were relieved that he wasn’t awake to ask why you woke up so violently because how were you to explain that it was because you were having a wet dream about him?

The dull feeling of disappointment had settled into your gut from having been interrupted before the dream could get good, a feeling that came with shame at how indisputable your horniness was. You’d never dreamed of Jake in such a light, but now you were worried that you wouldn’t be able to rid yourself of the sight of his eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure as he ground against you—

No. You need to stop.

Turning your head to groan into the pillow, you became hyper-aware of how wet you were, your panties sticking uncomfortably to your pussy. You pressed your legs together, silently willing the pulsing of your clit to calm down and let you fall asleep again. If you fall asleep, you might forget about this in the morning.

“Stop moving,” Jake’s tired voice scared you, making you jump. He used his arm to pull you closer against him, your hand against your mouth to stop yourself from making any noise. Not long after, you heard his deep breaths again, signalling that he’d fallen asleep. 

Fuck, you were screwed. You closed your eyes tightly, but all you could think about was how firm and warm he felt. Pressed against him like this, you could almost feel everything. From his tone chest and legs to his soft length, pressing against your backside. His gray sweats and your flimsy shorts barely acted as a barrier between you. Stretching your legs out, you realize that Lemon had hopped off the bed at some point, likely to sleep in her carrier.

Without thinking, your shaky hand made its way down your front, actively avoiding his arm. You bit your lip harshly as you slipped a finger underneath your shorts, listening carefully to ensure he wasn’t awake. This is crazy, you have never thought of doing something so indecent in front of Jake, but the idea was sending you into a frenzy. 

You fingertip made contact with your slit, and you had to stop yourself from moaning aloud at just how wet you were. Slowly, you rubbed circles around your clit, jolting slightly at the initial contact. Maybe it was from the dream or the fact that Jake was right there, but you felt more sensitive than usual, holding in whimpers with every movement.

“F-fuck,” you accidentally let out, screwing your eyes shut as you moved your hand faster. In the quiet stillness of the night, you could hear your slick with every flick of your wrist. If Jake woke up, there’d be no question to what you were doing, but the thought only spurred you on more.

Using your other hand to grope yourself over your shirt, you teased your entrance, easily inserting a finger. It wasn’t enough, your finger failing to fill you up how you know Jake’s would, a thought that forced out a rather loud moan.

Realizing how loud you were, you paused and listened to his breathing. Before you could even register that his breaths weren’t as deep as they were before, his arm tightened around you.

“Naughty fucking girl,” he hissed into your ear, pulling your hand out of your panties. You didn’t have time to feel humiliated before he rolled you onto your back, his thighs pressing into your waist as he sat on top of you. The look he gave you was just like the one he had in your dream, eyes dark and pupils full-blown, eyebrows furrowed together in desperate need.

“Touching yourself like that while my arm’s around you,” he spat, leaning until he was mere inches away from your face. “Thinking I wouldn’t wake up. Needed me that badly, yeah?”

It was clear that you were shocked, wide-eyed and jaw agape. Not once in your lifetime of friendship with Jake had you seen this feral side to him. You felt his hardening length when he pressed his hips down and groaned. “Come on, sweets. I know you’re smarter than that. You can answer me with words like a big girl.”

You smacked your lips together in disbelief before nodding slowly. “Yeah,” you stuttered. “Need you so bad, Jake.” Your own words surprised you, his boldness rubbing off on you. “Dreamt of you,” you confessed.

Jake raised a brow at you, laying his hand flat on your side. “Yeah? Was I touching you,” he used his hand to push up your shirt, moving faster than his dream counterpart had and groping at your breast, flicking his thumb over the hardening bud. “Like this?”

Nodding fervently, you bit your lip to hold in your moans as he handled you. He clicked his tongue using his other hand to pull at your bottom lip until it was released from your teeth. “Wanna hear you, princess. You had no problem moaning while I was asleep. Unfair to hide them in front of me now, isn’t it?”

He bent down to take your other nipple in his hot mouth, his searing tongue darting out to circle the sensitive bud. His eyes never left yours, watching your expressions as you arched your back to his ministrations. He let go of your nipple, only to blow cold air on it, making you whimper. “What else did I do, pretty?” He asked, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. “Did I make you feel good?”

“Fuck,” you cried when he thrust his hips against you, giving you a hint as to what was to come. “Made me feel so good, Jake.” You threw your head back as he continued, shallowly thrusting against your clothed core. You weakly pointed at your neck. “Kissed me here,” you sighed when he leaned forward to leave kitten licks against your neck, nipping gently at the skin. “And…”

He bit down on the skin under your ear, using his tongue to soothe the mark before kissing up to your earlobe. “And?” His deep voice resonated within you, making you shiver.

“And then you…” You trailed off, instead opting to run a hand down your front to the waistband of your shorts, not missing the way his eyes followed. “Touched me here.” Tapping over your clothed clit, you avoided his gaze out of shyness, still in disbelief of this situation. “Then I woke up.” Your voice was weak, doused in lust and need for the man in front of you.

He smirked at you, moving back so he could pull your shorts off, leaving you in your oversized tee—an old shirt of his he’d given you before you moved—and your soaked baby blue panties. Even in the dark, he could see how wet you were, the thought making him groan as he palmed himself over his sweats at the sight of you. 

“Poor baby,” he sighed, though you heard no actual sympathy in his tone. “Couldn’t get off in your dream, so you touched yourself like a whore in front of me.” You squirmed at his vulgarity, his words sending shockwaves to your clenching pussy. Shifting his body down the bed so he was laying between your thighs, he left kisses up and down the sensitive skin there. His tongue traced a line from your knee up to where you truly wanted him before stopping right before your panties. His mouth wrapped around your skin as he bit down, hard enough to sting but not hard enough to really hurt.

When he pulled away, a dark hickey had formed. “Shit,” he groaned, “God, I love marking you up.” He looked back up at you, resting on your elbows so you could watch him. “Gonna leave marks all over, yeah? Then you’ll know who made you feel good, pretty girl.”

Mindlessly, you nodded, wanting him to do anything he wanted with you. His every word made you feel impossibly wet, almost embarrassingly so.

Without missing a beat, he kissed your clit over your panties, making you whimper as you thrust your hips up toward his face. “Patience, baby,” he mumbled, tonguing you through the thin fabric of your underwear. “Gonna make you feel good.” Using his teeth, he pulled your panties down, your slick stringing along as he got them to your knees before using his hands to pull them off completely. 

The sight of your exposed cunt, wet and clenching around nothing, made Jake crazy. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admitted with a groan before he dove into your pussy, licking up your slick. He drew figure-eights over your clit before closing his lips around it and sucking, making you cry out. You felt his long fingers poke at your entrance, the stimulation leaving you a mess of moans and whimpers.

When two of his fingers pushed past your entrance, you both groaned at the feeling of him sliding inside your gummy walls. His tongue worked at your clit as he slowly scissored his fingers inside you, all while watching your reactions. “So hot,” you gasped, clawing at the bed sheets. “Fuck, Jake, gonna…” You cut yourself off, moaning loudly, when he started moving his fingers faster.

“Cum for me, sweets.” His demand seemingly made you snap as you came around his fingers in an instant. He closed his eyes as his jaw dropped in a groan, relishing the feeling of you clenching tightly around his fingers. He slowly took them out, biting his lip at how wet you were. The whine you let out once you were empty would live in his mind for the rest of his days, he decided, as he moved up the bed to come eye to eye with you.

You watched as he sucked his fingers clean of your wetness before leaning in and kissing you harshly. The taste of him mixed with your juices made you moan, grabbing at the fabric of his shirt tightly. He bit your bottom lip, pulling at it slightly before kissing you deeply once more. Your lips slotted together with ease, like two puzzle pieces.

He felt your hand travel down his stomach to the strings of his sweatpants, leaning back to watch as you undid the knot before pulling them down in a swift motion. He sat up to kick the garment off, before returning to his spot between your thighs. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, hunger in your gaze as you inspected his cock, hard against his stomach. It was red, needy and weeping, one pronounced vein running along his shaft. More importantly, he was thick—thicker than any toys you had bought on a whim.

When you looked up at him, he must’ve caught your fear as he cupped your face in his warm palm. Kissing you gently, he brushed your hair back. “We don’t need to go any further if you don’t want us to,” he assured you, even though the hardness of his length said otherwise. “We’ll only go as far as you want to.”

You bit your lip, “Then…” Without another word, you closed a fist around his shaft, watching his eyes widen. “I want to make you feel good, too,” you whispered. You collected some of his precum, using it to glide your hand up and down at a torturous pace, your eyes never leaving his face.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, shoving his face in the crook of your neck. You felt his hot breaths fan over your skin, leaving goosebumps, and he moaned in your ear. His arms were braced on either side of your head, his scent invading your senses as you touched him. “Doing so well for me,” he hushed, kissing at your neck. He nudged your jawline with his nose, sucking down on your jugular. “Shit,” his hips stuttered, thrusting up into your grasp. “Go faster for me, yeah?”

You nodded, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you picked up speed. Using your other hand to grasp his balls, you delighted in the way he groaned a little louder, your name slipping from his lips wantonly. Leaning forward, you bit down on his shoulder, flicking your tongue out just as he had before. With your lips on him, he moaned your name once more, fucking up into your hand with reckless abandon. He swore lowly as his hips stilled, ropes of thick cum spilling from his cock and onto your hands and shirt.

He stayed there momentarily, catching his breath before hovering a bit higher to watch you. Inspecting your hand, you brought it to your lips. His eyes never left your tongue as he watched it dart out to catch any drops of his seed. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he sighed once you finished, wiping off any remains on your soiled tee. He pulled the tee over your head before giving you his own, still warm from being worn. 

“Go to sleep, sweets,” he mumbled against your temple as he settled in next to you. “We’ll talk in the morning, yeah?”

Your morning talk ended up with his tongue between your thighs in the shower as you struggled to keep yourself up, one leg over his shoulder. You were sure the people in the rooms next to you could hear your cries when you came on his tongue for the nth time, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. 

Once he thought you had cum an adequate amount of times, he carefully set you down, massaging your aching thighs as he kissed you gently. Pulling away, he leaned his forehead against yours, eyes still closed. Taking the opportunity, you pecked his lips before reaching for the body wash, giggling.

You never ended up talking about it, getting distracted by Lemon, who whined at the door when you finally came out of the bathroom. 

The rest of the road trip went similarly. You’d hold hands as he drove to your next destination, and then you’d get each other off in your motel rooms until the motel owners eventually kicked you out for disturbances. Between towns, you’d talk as if he wasn’t just knuckles deep in your heat or as if you didn’t just have his cock shoved down your throat as he fucked your face.

Words that needed to be spoken never were. Your fearful thoughts kept you from initiating the conversation that could very well destroy years of friendship with Jake.

ONE DAY.

Finally, you had made it to Seoul. Unfortunately, a flat tire in the middle of nowhere stopped you from getting there two days before, as Chaewon wanted. Luckily, nothing did go wrong and everything seemed to be ready for tomorrow.

Tired from the long trip, both emotionally and physically, Jake offered his house for you to stay at. Without thinking, you said yes. You took his keys and unlocked the door as Jake grabbed your things from the car, Lemon pushing past your feet and into the house, eager to explore.

As she made her way around, her nails against the hardwood floor indicating where she was, you and Jake pushed your luggage into the living room before collapsing onto the couch.

“I’m so happy to be home,” he sighed, stretching his limbs. “As fun as road trips are, nothing beats sleeping in your own bed.” Glancing over at you, a million thoughts raced in his mind, but he pushed them away. He wanted to talk about what you were, the frequent hookups making his brain mush. But he could read you—he always could. You’ve always been so emotive that you made it easy, but he had your habits memorized. He knew exactly when you didn’t want to do something and that you weren’t ready for talking.

So he didn’t say anything, even though he knew it might hurt him in the long run.

Unlike your apartment or the many motels you stayed at over your trip, Jake actually had two beds. The thought of sleeping in separate rooms felt so foreign, but he told you anyway. You hummed, “Maybe I should sleep in the guest room then.” You grinned at him, “You’re probably tired of having to share a bed with me by now.”

Never, he thought.

That night, he lay in his too-empty bed, restless. Knowing you were in the same house, with only a thin wall separating you, was driving him mad. Not having you next to him, curled up against his side, drove him mad. His hand clenched around the bedsheets, where you would’ve been if you had taken up his silent plea to sleep in the same room as him.

In that moment, Jake realizes just how screwed he really is. Covering his eyes with his forearm, he quietly swore into the empty room, his heart aching. Jake had gotten so used to being so close to you, to have you by his side as he pleasured you, your high-pitched cries echoing in his ears. He knew it wouldn’t last forever and that he’d have to drive you home a few days after the wedding. Then, he didn’t know how long it’d be until he saw you again.

He wonders if everything that happened will get brushed under the rug. God, he hoped not. 

Just as he decided he’d need some sleep for the wedding tomorrow, he heard something through the wall. He held his breath, straining his ears to hear the noise's source. Before long, he realized it was you, your short breaths easily passing through the wall, the sound of your slick ringing clear as day to him.

Without another thought, he ripped off his blanket and made his way to the guest room. To his surprise, you hadn’t even closed your door, his eyes blessed with the sight of you atop the bed. Neither the blankets nor the sheets were disturbed, making it clear that you hadn’t even gotten comfortable before you started. He watched in a daze as your fingers plunged in and out of your hole, your face contorted into one of drunken pleasure.

He felt himself grow hard as he stepped closer. You whimpered out his name as you rubbed harsh circles over your clit, and something inside Jake snapped.

“You must love fucking torturing me,” he rasped, roughly pulling your fingers out of your pussy and pinning your hands to the bed, leaving your body fully exposed to him. “Always touching yourself in front of me like a slut. You knew what you were doing, leaving your door open.” When you turned your head away in feigned humiliation, he used his free hand to forcibly turn your cheek. His nails dug into your jaw as he forced you to look at him.

“Do you know how crazy you make me feel?” He asked, but he narrowed his eyes at you when you went to answer. “Do you know how fucking long I’ve wanted to see you like this? Needy and begging for my cock?” His words shut up, the implication of something more making your heart race.

“Do you know how hard it’s been for me to stop myself from making you mine every night we’re together?” He growled, letting go of your hands to push your legs up against your chest. “Do you know how hard it is to refrain from kissing you every time you look at me with that look in your eye?”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him in for a kiss, your lips meeting in a fight for dominance. His hands pushed you deeper against the bed as he pressed himself against you. His patience was wearing thin as he pulled away, only to pull off his shirt before he leaned in again. Your lips, your taste—all of you was addicting to Jake.

“Jake,” you moaned out when he attacked your neck, adding to the healing bruises from before. “‘M ready now. Please, please, make me yours,” you begged, spreading your legs wider for emphasis.

If he wasn’t hard before, he was now at your plea, a growl stuck at the back of his throat at the thought of fucking you like how he’s wanted to. “You sure, princess?” he asked, leaning back to look you in the eye.

“I’ve never been more sure,” you gasped, eyes darting from his left to right. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

Jake only shook his head, pulling you in for another deep kiss. Jake swallowed your moans, a feeling of possessiveness taking over him as he fondled your breasts. “All mine,” he hissed, “you’re mine.”

He made quick work of his sleep shorts, the garment getting thrown across the room into some corner to be found in the morning. His cock was pretty as ever, and your hands instinctively went to grab at it. “Next time, baby,” he rasped, “Need to take you now.”

You cried out when you felt the tip of his length nudge against your folds, collecting your juices as he ran his cock up and down your cunt. A broken whimper of his name ripped through your throat when he bumped your clit, his own deep moan shaking in his chest. He felt like he was losing his mind, the warmth of your pussy felt so good against his shaft, and he hadn’t even entered you yet.

You felt him line himself up at your entrance, and you tensed. Noticing, Jake left gentle kisses against your shoulder. “I’ll take care of you, pretty, just lay back, yeah?”

You nodded but felt hot tears well up in your eyes as he pushed past your entrance, a stinging burn erupting between your legs. He moved slowly, but inch by inch, the burn became more intense. “It’ll hurt more when you’re this tense, baby,” he whispered, massaging your right breast in hopes of distracting you. His lips met yours in a kiss more gentle than any that preceded it. Screwing your eyes shut, tears beaded at the corners of your eyes before they fell, disappearing into your hairline. He kissed your temple when he finally bottomed out after what felt like years. “Doing so well for me, sweets.”

He stilled for a few minutes despite wanting nothing more but to drill into you. Leaving kisses all over your face and neck, he observed as your face relaxed more and more. “You can move now,” you whispered, out of breath.

“Yeah? Trust me?”

“Mhm,” you closed your eyes—the sting had disappeared, and now you just felt stuffed. “I trust you, Jake.”

Your admittance made his head spin as he dropped his head onto your shoulder. Slowly, he pulled out until just the tip was inside before thrusting into you. A low moan rumbled in your chest as Jake sucked at your neck. He repeated the motion, rocking into you slowly until you got used to it.

After a while, the pain turned to pleasure as you clenched around him, making him gasp against your skin. “Faster, please,” you begged, linking your ankles around his back. “Need you.”

Just as you asked, Jake upped his pace, moving steadily. He sat back gripping your waist as he thrust into you. He watched for your reactions, eyes darting from your scrunched up face to the bouncing of your breasts down to the jiggle of your thighs with each thrust. His speed picked up until he was pistoling into you, broken moans pushing past your lips as his hips slapped against yours.

The sound of your wetness was so obscene, if you were in a normal state of mind you would’ve been embarrassed. But the drag of his cock against your walls and the way his pelvic bone grazed your clit every time he bottomed out was deliciously addicting.  “Feels so fucking good,” Jake moaned, “you’re gripping me so tightly—fuck!—gonna make me cum, princess.” Falling forward, he braced himself on one arm, reaching for your puffy clit with the other. He rubbed fast cirlces on your clit as he pounded into you, the sound of skin against skin turning you on more. You willed yourself to keep your eyes open, to bask in the sight of Jake slowly losing control of his movements as he got closer to his own release.

The sight of him hunched over you, eyes glassy as he furrowed his brows in concentration, beads of sweat dripping from his hairline, causing his blond hair to stick to his forehead, was so fucking hot. You gripped at his arms, muscles bulging as he struggled to keep himself up.

You felt an orgasm fast approaching, your own whines coming out higher and higher. “Fu—ck, Jake,” you swore, “I’m so close, please, I—”

At your words, Jake’s hips moved faster, hitting the spot that made you see stars over and over again. “You look so beautiful like this,” he uttered breathlessly. “Fuck, I love you.” The words spilled from his lips unintentionally, the way your walls clenched around him knocked any sense of thought out of him, his only coherent thought being to make you cream around his cock.

His words echoed in your brain as you came with a cry of his name. The feeling of you cumming sent Jake into overdrive as he pistoned into you, overstimulating you as he chased his release. After a moment, he stilled, coming inside of your cavern. You felt his release paint your walls white, bringing you into a second orgasm.

He stayed inside you for a while, hovering over your tired body as he caught his breath. Eventually, he pulled out, his cum spilling from your clenching hole, making him sigh in pleasure at the sight. He kissed your temple before moving to get off the bed. You watched, spent, as he searched for his shirt in the dark, the hallway light dimly illuminating the room. For a second, you were scared that he was just going to go back to his own room, but after he found the shirt, he came back to your side. Wordlessly, he wiped you clean, even wiping at the beads of sweat that accumulated on your skin.

Tired, he let himself collapse beside you, pulling you against his chest.

“Did you mean it?” you asked in a small voice.

“Hmm?”

“When… When you said you loved me.”

You felt him tense under you for a second before relaxing. His arms held you tighter against his chest, letting you listen to his rapid heartbeat.

“Yeah.” He paused, the cogs in his brain turning as he searched for the right words to say. Nothing he came up with seemed right; he opted to stay silent and waited for your response. When it didn’t come, he looked down at you, only to be met with your sleeping face. He sighed, his breath shaky as his eyes burned. He pressed a single kiss on the crown of your head. “Good night, sweets.”

THREE HOURS.

Chaewon had been spamming your phone, the distinct buzzing of each message waking you up. Jake slept through the sound of you typing, exhausted from the night before.

Where are you???? Get your ass here NOW before I come and get you myself

Are you even awake? 

Girl, if you’re not here in the next hour I’ll punt you into the next century

Swearing, you carefully slipped out of Jake’s grasp. When he didn’t stir, you shook him gently. He mumbled incoherently, wrapping his arms around your middle as he deeply inhaled your scent. “Jake, we gotta’ wake up now. Chaewon’s having a cow and I don’t think we want to upset the bride today.”

At your words, Jake murmured something you couldn’t hear before finally peeling himself off you, looking at you with sleepy eyes and messy hair. “Wha’ time isit?” he slurred, stretching his arm.

“It’s twelve, so we have to go. Like, now.”

Thankfully, that seemed to wake Jake up, and he sat up quickly. “Damn, okay,” he pushed his hair back. “Get changed and everything, and I’ll meet you at the door.”

You watched as he leaped off the bed, picking up his soiled clothes from the floor. He made his way to his own room, and you heard the shower turn on. In the time it took for you to brush your teeth and get changed, Jake had showered and hastily shoved on some comfy clothes, his attire being left with Heeseung as well.

The drive to the hotel where the bridal and groom's parties were getting ready was quiet, partially from sleepiness and partially because of the unfinished conversation from last night, filling the air with thick tension. His hand rested on the middle console, palm up, but you didn’t take it.

When you got to the hotel, you were quickly ushered to your respective rooms by other bridesmaids and groomsmen. Jake could only watch as you disappeared behind a room door before getting shoved into one himself.

He didn’t see you again until later, when the wedding was about to start, and the pairs were meant to walk down the aisle. Since you were Chaewon’s maid of honour and Jake was Heeseung’s best man, you were paired together. When you finally saw him, you felt the air leave your lungs. His hair was styled so it was out of his face, save for a few strands that hooked over his forehead. His suit was entirely dark blue, from his blazer to his tie, and it made him look unfairly handsome.

Your mouth felt dry as you linked arms with him, listening for your cue to walk.

Unbeknownst to you, he felt similar. You looked stunning in your baby blue satin dress, and he thought it hugged your curves in such a way that he almost wanted to cover you up so only he could see you like this. His heart pounded in his chest at your touch. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispered as you waited, making the couples behind you snicker. You blushed, your face warming as you rubbed your lips together anxiously.

“As do you,” you mumbled, looking into his eyes shyly. “You look really good.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but the doors opened up, and that was your cue. The venue was gorgeous, as expected since Chaewon planned most of it. The sight of the aisle and the altar made your heart soar for her, and you absentmindedly rubbed at your own ring finger the closer you and Jake got to the end of the aisle.

You sent him a smile before you retreated to your respective spots. As the rest of the couples and the flower girl made their way down the aisle, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes on Jake. You wondered how you looked, staring over at the best man when there were so many things you should’ve been paying attention to.

Clearing your throat, you looked forward.

When you finally saw Heeseung, your heart clenched. You fisted the fabric of your dress as you watched him wait for his bride-to-be. This motion didn’t go unseen by Jake, whose jaw clenched.

When Chaewon appeared from behind the door, the room erupted into cheers as everyone stood. Tears sprang to your eyes as you watched your cousin, veiled, take small steps closer to her future husband. You knew your makeup was going to be ruined by the end of the night, but you couldn’t help but cry once she reached Heeseung. You glanced at him once more before staring down at your heeled feet.

The rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch, Chaewon and Heeseung’s beautiful vows leaving everyone in tears. You had even caught Jake wiping away some stray tears. You watched with a sense of longing as Chaewon and Heeseung made their way down the aisle. You didn’t realize that Jake had been staring at you the whole time, not even when it was your turn to walk out.

The banquet was to start half an hour later. You and Jake had gotten separated in the commotion outside of the venue hall. You heard him call out to you, but you couldn’t see him over the large, bustling crowd of wedding guests. Knowing that you’d see him at the banquet, you slipped further into the crowd until you found a balcony. Peaking your head out, you let out a breath of relief when there was no one there.

The sun was setting, casting an orange hue over everything it touched. A beautiful sight, you thought as you leaned against the railing. You closed your eyes as you thought back on the wedding. It had been the exact wedding the Chaewon had planned years ago, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to be truly happy. How could you, after all, after watching Heeseung look at Chaewon with such love and adoration? 

When someone called your name, you turned around to see Jake standing there, slightly unkempt from the crowd. “I finally found you,” he heaved, gesturing back to the hall that was still full of busy wedding goers. “Man, the banquet is literally in the room over from the wedding hall—they couldn’t be a little more patient in moving over?” He shook his head in mock disbelief as he joined you.

He looked at you, ready to make a joke, but paused when he saw your face. His smile dropped as he turned to face you fully. “You’re crying,” he noted, cupping your cheek. You blinked in surprise, having not noticed how tears had welled up in your eyes. “What’s wrong, sweets?”

You turned around, pulling your face out of his grasp, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I don’t know,” you murmured, voice breaking. “I just… when I saw them—”

“Is it Heeseung?”

His cold, clipped tone shocked you. When you looked at him in confusion, his expression had hardened. “What—”

“Why does seeing him with her still hurt you? I thought you were fine,” his words were level, but you heard the slight tremble of his voice.”You said you moved on.” 

Sputtering, you turned to him with an indignant glare. “Jake, it’s not that easy—”

Scoffing, he took a step back from you. “So what? The last two weeks meant nothing to you? Last night meant nothing to you? I…” He gripped at his hair, stressed. “I told you I loved you, and you’re still crying over Heeseung?”

It dawned on you how he perceived your words, and an unsettling fear grabbed at you as you went to explain yourself. “What? Jake, no, I’m not—”

He gave you no room to speak, interrupting you hastily, words tumbling from his lips as though he had no control of them. “I have always loved you,” he confessed, voice breaking. “Ever since we were kids, for me, it’s always been you. I came to you because I love you. I spent these last two weeks with you because I love you, and I want nothing more than for you to see me as more than a best friend or… or someone who’s convenient for you.” You watched in horror as his eyes watered, stepping forward to grab his arm to explain, but he ripped his arm away from your grasp. “I can see now that you never will.”

“Jake, wait—!” Your cry fell on empty ears as he turned to leave you alone on the balcony, his back feeling unreachable as he reached for the doorknob to go back inside. At this point, the crowd in the hall had dispersed, and you were sure the banquet was starting. But none of that mattered—what mattered was stopping Jake from leaving before you could tell him the truth.

Swallowing your fears, you called out his full name. You sighed in relief when he paused, but your hands shook at your sides as you forced your next words out. “He made me feel like I was unlovable,” you uttered, voice just barely above a whisper. For a second, you were worried he hadn’t heard you, but he turned his head slightly. Finding the courage to continue, you stepped forward. “I’m not… I don’t love Heeseung, Jake. I haven’t loved Heeseung for a really fucking long time.”

But what happened between us gave me all of these terrible thoughts that I didn’t…. That I don’t know how to handle. I thought I was perfectly fine dealing with my insecurities on my own before you came.” He turn his head more, allowing you to see his profile. You saw him open his mouth, ready to retort, but you narrowed your eyes at him. “Sim Jaeyun, if you interrupt me again, I’ll kick your ass.” Your threat wasn’t all that threatening, considering the fact that you were near to tears, but he listened and shut his mouth.

“When you showed up at my apartment, I thought I was going mad. You made me feel like that. It was suddenly so different between us and I didn’t know what to do. You kept saying these things like you were trying to fluster me, and I couldn’t tell if you were being genuine or if my fucked up mind was just creating scenarios where you might actually love me.” Tears were freely falling now, smudging your eye makeup and leaving its trail in your foundation. You stepped closer to Jake, who had fully turned to face you. You stopped, leaving a few meters between you as if you were scared of crossing an invisible boundary.

“Last night was the best night of my life. And every time before that, you made me feel complete and made me so happy, Jake. You made me feel… normal. It felt like I was myself again for the first time in months, but there was something else there, too.” You looked into his eyes, unable to tell what he was thinking. You swallowed thickly, “I don’t love Heeseung, and you’re a fool if you think I do. But it’s so fucking hard to shake off the feeling that at any point you could find someone better, someone who’s prettier, or—”

Jake was quick to close the distance between you, his lips downturned into a scowl as he glowered at you. “Just shut up already,” he spat, cupping your face in his hands and bringing his lips to yours. You felt a thousand times lighter as you kissed him back with the same fervour as him, your tears mixing into the kiss. He dropped a hand to rest on your hip, bringing you flush against him. Once he pulled away, you were both breathless. He rested his forehead against yours as his shoulders rose and fell quickly.

When he finally opened his eyes, gone was the pain and hurt. Now, when he looked at you, he looked with adoring eyes. “I love you,” he whispered. “You might not believe me yet, but just know that whenever I look at you, all I see is the person I want to spend my life with. There isn’t anyone better or prettier—there’s only you.”

He met your eyes before kissing you again. 

You looked into his eyes once you pulled away, a thousand thoughts swirling behind your irises. “I love you,” you breathed out. You reached for his hand, interlocking your fingers together as you smiled tearfully at him. “Help me believe you.”

Jake laughed in disbelief, bringing you close to his chest.

“We have all the time in the world to get there, sweets.”

©WONLOVIE please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Dreamers | Rhysand & Daughter!Reader

Summary: After Madja is away in business for two months, he has to find a healer to replace her in her absence, which happens to be you, his bastard daughter, and unbeknownst to him, Azriel’s mate.

Word Count: ~ 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, bad family relationship, mentions of prostitution, implied sex, but it ends happy don’t worry (PLATONIC BETWEEN RHYS AND READER)

A/N: This request was like perfectly matching up with my daydreams so thanks !! hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Throughout all your years of education and schooling, there was one truth you knew without having to be told.

You were unwanted. A mistake.

You’d always known that and hadn’t cared much for the first few years of your life. Your mother had been a prostitute, and your father had accidentally knocked her up. Whether it had been a mistake, or your mother had purposefully not used a contraceptive just to have a tie to the High Lord was still in debate, but you didn’t care much anymore.

He had tried to raise you, probably not wanting you to grow up a whore like your mother, but been trapped Under the Mountain, leaving you alone, your only real ties to him were through Cassian, who didn’t seem to care that you were a bastard child or your circumstances.

He felt like more of a father, sometimes.

You’d gotten your apartment in Velaris, working as an herbalist, and something of a medic, using the mingled magic of your mother and father to heal people. Some would say the job didn’t match your sometimes uncaring and blunt, even bitter demeanor. But you didn’t care what they said, and you never had. It paid the bills, and let you live relatively comfortably in your little shop when not in the apartment.

You had heard the rumors of Feyre, the Cursebreaker who’d freed your father, and by extension all the other High Lords from Under the Mountain. You’d seen the female and your father together, walking the streets happy as could be together, openly proclaiming their love, not to mention their baby.

After he’d been liberated, you hadn’t tried to seek him out, and he hadn’t with you. It was for the best, probably. You wanted nothing to do with his perfect little happy family and Inner Circle, you didn’t belong there, and you had no desire to. You hadn’t needed a father to grow up, and you didn’t need one now.

However, Madja was away on business, leaving you as the only other healer in Velaris capable of giving checkups to their child. It was for that reason, you suspected, that he invited you to a “family” dinner as if he’d ever treated you like family.

“It’ll be alright.”

Your mate, Azriel, spoke to you as he got ready to escort you into the House of Wind, where they wanted to have dinner that night. You hadn’t bothered to dress up nice or fancy, only donning some loose pants and a shirt, clothes you would usually work in.

Azriel had been your mate for nearly three years, having secretly accepted the bond, and decided to keep the relationship private for now, to let things settle down for now, and now had stretched into one year after another, until you were both content to live in the shadows.

“You know how I feel about them.”

You replied, sighing before quickly composing yourself at the clear mix of emotions on his face. His urge to defend his family and to empathize with you warring with each other in his mind.

You stepped forward, settling into his arms as you felt the shadows wrap around you, the environment shifting as your eyes remained open, and then you were there, the door to the House of Wind standing right in front of you. It felt wrong, to come back here after completely cutting off contact, only to be used for your healing abilities and medical knowledge for a half-sibling you’d never met.

Glancing over at Azriel, he gave a little nod, and you opened the door, setting foot inside the home and immediately confronted with the scents of multiple people. You could recognize some, Mor, Rhys, Cassian, maybe Amren? Only Feyre, Rhys, and Cassian were seated at the table, waiting for you. You’d heard news that Mor was visiting her private estate, and Amren off god knows where.

Expression as ticked off and blunt as you were feeling, you walked in, taking a seat as a plate of food magically appeared in front of you.

Rhys’ gaze ran up and down you, noting your clothes, simple cheap ones to get the job done, the herbs caked under your long nails, the calluses on your hands from handling your mortar and pestle so often, the way you didn’t smile at him or any of his family, or the same impassive and slightly annoyed look on your face. Something briefly appeared in his gaze, before being gone just as easily. Good. You had enough to deal with without any family problems.

“Hello, Y/N, I’d like you to meet -“

He spoke, voice sounding as confident as usual, but with a hint of a crack, as if testing the waters as he gestured towards Feyre.

“Your mate and son. I’m well aware.”

Your voice wasn’t like his, not with the silver tongue he had, tone blunt and straightforward. You didn’t refer to them by name on purpose, to make it seem like you hadn’t even cared to follow the news about him and his life. Like you were better. Feyre cast a sympathetic glance at Rhys, one that made your temper flare.

He shouldn’t get to be comforted for his past mistakes coming to bite him in the ass.

Cassian remained silent, exchanging glances with Azriel across the table. This was bound to happen eventually, and the General didn’t try any of his usual tactics to lighten the mood.

Rhys swallowed, opening his mouth to speak, probably to try and soothe you or make you less openly hostile, but you interrupted him.

“What do you want?”

You asked, tone blunt and cold, detached almost if it weren’t for the anger you held against him. He tried to hide his wince but failed to do it completely. That made you feel a bit better, at least. A sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. His expression sobered into one of resigned seriousness.

“Our healer, Madja, will be away on business for two months. You’re the most qualified to take her place if you would.”

He said. Feyre seemed a bit uncomfortable with the thought of you being the personal healer for their family for two months, and you didn’t blame her, considering your demeanor and history, but it still pissed you off.

“How much will you pay?”

You asked blandly, making it clear that the job meant nothing to you to get closer to them at all. All that mattered was the pay. Your mind was already calculating the costs, advantages, and disadvantages of taking the deal. He stiffened slightly, another small victory.

He stated a price, it was high, ridiculously so, in fact, but you weren’t complaining. Money was money. Even if you got it from your half-family.

“Sure.”

You said simply, still not touching your dinner. The food was tantalizing, but the thought of sending a message even more so. You wouldn’t dine at this table, not like how you had done so many years ago. Though your throat was parched, you didn’t touch the glass of water.

“Is that all?”

You asked, your mint green eyes, the same shade as your mother’s, meeting his violet gaze. Pure indifference was all you were determined to give him. After he’d forgotten about you, too obsessed with his mate and new child, the replacements, to bother with you.

“I was hoping you’d stay for dinner.”

He said quietly, a hint of pleading in his gaze. You felt a pang in your chest at that but shoved it down as you got up from your seat, not tucking it in. They could look at the seat pushed out after you left, and think about you. It would hopefully plague his mind like he plagued yours.

“Keep hoping. See where it gets you.”

You said dryly, walking out of the kitchen, out of that goddamned sentient House that remembered you even now, how it knew your favorite food, just the way you knew your mother had cooked it so long ago, or the way you’d loved the water from that river out back, one you still visited now.

You heard the harsh scratching of a chair against the wooden floor and footsteps, and before you could winnow away, you found that you couldn’t move.

Not metaphorically or rhetorically, you literally could not move your own body, and that’s when you became all too aware of the presence in your mind when your barriers had slipped because of your irritation. Your father finally released you as he stood behind you, you whirled to look at him, seething.

“Stay out of my head.”

You hissed, shoving him away from you even as he gave you a begging gaze.

“Please, I’m sorry, let me try, just give me one chance to be your father, one?”

He begged, voice cracking with desperation you’d never seen before, and it would’ve weirded you out a little if you weren’t frozen in place, throat even dryer now as you tried to think of something to say.

Despite how you denied it and wanted to be cold and vengeful towards him, deep down, that wasn’t what you wanted. Maybe a relationship with him wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t like he’d had a choice to leave you behind, he’d been kidnapped Under the Mountain, and been so busy putting his Court back together and handling a war that he hadn’t even been able to think about you.

You swallowed, sighing and giving a resigned nod.

“Just..meet me for breakfast tomorrow, I guess. At my apartment. It’s down the block to the right of Rita’s, you’ll know it when you see it.”

As soon as you said it, he pulled you into a gentle hug, feeling you stiffening under his touch. You weren’t the most touchy person with strangers, or people you didn’t know very well at that.

Breakfast tomorrow. Great.

*********************************************************

Az had already been late when he’d arrived at your apartment for the moment, his tedious little schedule for the recent mission already thrown off because of the extra time he’d taken bending you over a counter. Just as he gave you a little kiss on the cheek, opening the door to head out, he ran face-first into Rhys, the only thing stopping the two from kissing being the subtle height advantage Azriel had over his High Lord.

“What -“

Rhys began, and Azriel was gone quicker than you’d ever seen his shadows transport him. You dragged your father in, closing the door behind you.

“He’s my mate and has been for three years, but anyways, breakfast.”

You blurted in a rushed tone as you tried to ignore the obvious thing that had just happened. Rhys ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed, seeming exasperated but not surprised.

“I thought so, Cassian said he’s been coming home smelling like you lately.”

He muttered under his breath as you slipped an oven mitt on, pulling a muffin sheet out of the oven and hissing as the oven brushed against your arm, leaving an angry little red spot. Your father’s eyebrows raised at that, and he walked over and turned your sink to a lukewarm temperature, grabbing you and easily moving you over to it to run the burn under it. Protective instincts were probably already kicking in for him, albeit a bit dusty and not used for anyone other than his new son.

He grabbed a roll of bandaging that was on your counter, from the other night when you’d also accidentally burned yourself while trying to open the oven with your bare feet, hands too busy. The oven-related incidents were getting a bit too often, now. Especially since Azriel threatened to throw the oven out if you didn’t stop getting hurt.

“Thanks.”

You managed to mumble as his slender fingers skillfully wrapped some of it around you, securing it easily. He gave a little nod, slipping an oven mitt on and dumping the muffins out, just shoving them all onto one plate he set on the small table with two chairs, one for you and Az.

He sat down, you sitting across from him, grabbing a muffin and unwrapping it, before just awkwardly eating in silence.

“So..”

You said, swallowing as you tried to think about how weird this conversation would be. He sighed, running his hands through his hair again. It seemed to be a nervous habit of his.

“I’m sorry, for not being there. There was just so much going on, with the war, Amarantha, not to mention Koschei…”

His voice trailed off at the mention of them.

“I..get it. You were busy with all that.”

“I still should’ve been there. You’re my daughter, and you grew up without a father because of me.”

You swallowed, trying to bite back the emotions that rose because of this conversation. He seemed to notice, violet eyes softening as his chair scooted a bit closer to yours, wanting to comfort you but unsure how to do so without further upsetting you. You suddenly felt bad for all your remarks and attitude earlier. He’d been trying, you hadn’t.

“We can start over if you want. Just father and daughter?”

You nodded, sniffling slightly. At that tiny sniffle, he couldn’t resist anymore, getting up and pulling you into his arms. This time, you didn’t stiffen, didn’t struggle, or try to pull away, you just cried into his chest in a way you usually only could do with Az. He held you close, hand soothingly rubbing your back.

“I think I’d like that.”

You managed to choke out as the tears dried up, and you looked up into his violet eyes, now noticing the golden flecks in them, like stars you could wish on.

Stars promising hope and a future of warmth and acceptance.

Tags:

@judeduartewannbe

[cyarikaplease]

and i’ll never see you again if i can help it

ex!joel miller x f!reader

summary: after breaking up with Joel, you take an opposite patrol shift to avoid him at all costs.

warnings: smut and angst

“The first time I tasted somebody else's spit, I had a coughing fit

I mistakenly called them by your name

I was let down it wasn't the same”

The cold nighttime air startled your lungs as you stumbled outside. Before you had time to acclimate, his lips were pressed against yours. You drunkenly kissed him back, him being some guy you met at the Tipsy Bison whose name you couldn’t even be bothered to recall. You got a taste of his spit, bitter from the alcohol he just drank. You forced yourself not to gag which caused you to pull away and cough violently, the crisp November air certainly not helping. 

He looked at you under the dim street lamp and chuckled, “You okay?”

Tears sprung at the corners of your eyes as you continued your coughs and struggled to catch your breath. He rubbed your back as your coughing fit came to an end. 

That was nice of him.

When the coughing finally dissipated you resigned to kissing him again. He pressed you against the side of the building and worked on your neck, leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your soft skin.

You started to moan a little and as he kissed and sucked on your neck, you subconsciously moaned “Joel”. 

He stopped. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and your face grew hot. He slowly pulled away from your neck and looked you in the eye. 

“…What did you just say?”

You didn’t know what to say. It’s not like you could tell him the truth, “Oh I was just moaning my ex’s name.” That would crush him. You stared at each other under the streetlamp and through puffs of your visible breath. The expression on his face was a mixture of disappointment and betrayal.

“I- I…” you stuttered out.

He shook his head and muttered “Forget it” before turning and walking home, leaving you alone in the dark street with nothing but the shame you felt. 

“I’m doing fine, trying to derail my one-track mind

Regaining my self-worth in record time

But I can’t help but think of your other in the bed that was mine”

You sighed and went to walk home yourself, the shame already melting away. It’s not like it was going to be anything serious anyway. Who cares if you called him by the wrong name? You’re still healing from your breakup with Joel anyway. You were bound to be a little messy here and there. The shame had started shapeshifting into pride of some kind. But all that changed when you saw him leaving the Tipsy Bison. And no, not the random guy from before. This time him being Joel. And he was with a woman. They were clearly drunk and practically hanging off of each other. How had you not noticed him inside earlier? And as they walked towards the direction of Joel’s home, the home that you used to share with him, you heard something rare; Joel was laughing. Jealousy stirred a pit in your stomach. Your hands clenched at your sides. Tears sprung in your eyes again. The shame returned but this time for a different reason. You were ashamed you no longer had a rebound. You wanted to prove to Joel that you didn’t need him; that you were moving on. But instead, you were standing in the street feeling jealous, watching him walk home to fuck someone where he used to fuck you. 

“Am I a masochist, resisting urges to punch you in the teeth

Call you a bitch and leave?”

You wanted to yell after him; tell him to stop; ask what he thought he was doing. Maybe even call him a name or two. Maybe throw him a punch. Maybe not the punch though. That was just drunk you talking. You didn’t really have a right to do any of those things anyway. You were broken up. He was free to move on to whoever he wanted. You turned on your heel and walked home, head hanging low in humiliation. You returned to your empty home, collapsing into bed and finally letting the tears flow now that you were alone. You thought about what Joel was doing with her. Was he kissing her? Were they holding each other? Were they in what used to be your bed with Joel? Did he have the same attention to detail with her pleasure that he used to have with yours? It made your stomach twist into knots. The alcohol mixed with the feelings of regret, longing, and nostalgia; all of it fusing together, leaving you nauseous. You ran to your bathroom and emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet. You sat on the floor, rested your head against the toilet seat, and sobbed, the tears making your face sticky and puffy. You knew you were gonna look like shit tomorrow, eyes puffy and bloodshot, all the color in your face faded. And to make matters worse, you had a daytime patrol shift with Joel tomorrow. The thought of him seeing you like this was mortifying. You wanted him to think that you were moving on; that you didn’t need him anymore. But that was far from the truth. 

“Why did I come here? To sit and watch you stare at your feet? 

What was the plan? Absolve all your guilt and shake hands?”

You woke up that morning with a splitting headache. The morning sun creeping in through the windows didn’t help either. You rose from your bed slowly, the aches in your body starting to set in. You went to the bathroom and took a look at yourself in the mirror. The bags under your eyes were a deep purple and the life was sucked from your face. You thought about Joel seeing you like this… which led you to think about him waking up with her this morning. The pain that that thought gave you was indescribable. It tore at your stomach and your heart, leaving them with heavy pits. You leaned over the bathroom counter and took slow, deep breaths, heading facing down at the sink. After talking yourself down from the impending mental breakdown you got ready for your patrol shift, slipping on your clothes and grabbing your gun on the dresser before exiting into the brisk morning. You put your pants in the pockets of your jacket and stared at the ground as you walked, not trying to make eye contact with anyone as Jackson was waking up for the day. 

You reached the main gate to find Joel waiting there, too, also looking at the ground. Tommy and a few others were waiting as well. You wordlessly headed to the stables, mounting on your houses for the patrol. The tension between the group hung heavy in the air, thanks to you and Joel. Everyone in town knew about your breakup and how messy it was. Nobody dared to say a thing as you and the group exited through the gate and spread out along the walls of Jackson. Somehow you and Joel ended up next to each other, neither of you looking in the other’s general direction. The strain and hostility between you two was so strong it was pliable. It felt like a weight being pushed down on your shoulders. And that’s how most of the shift went– you and Joel next to each other or walking by each other on your horses, never making eye contact. It was awkward for you, him, and everyone else unfortunate enough to be on the same patrol shift with you guys. If only you could switch patrol shifts…

But your thoughts are interrupted when Joel speaks, startling you. 

“Can we talk?”

Really? Now?

“I don’t really think here is the best time or place…” you said, glancing at the others around you.

“Meet me at the diner after our shift?” he asked in a hushed tone. 

The diner in Jackson had a service for patrol shift workers to stop in for coffee whenever they needed it. Going to the diner after your patrol shifts was something you used to do together. Now, you avoided that place like the plague, finding it to be painful to go to. 

Your brow furrowed, “Sure, I guess…”

He nodded silently and led his horse in the opposite direction around the fence. You didn’t see him much for the rest of your shift. And when you did you didn’t really look him in the eye. The day seemed to drag on, the sun getting lower and lower in the sky. At the end of your shift, you headed back to the stables and dismounted from your horse, starting the walk to the diner. Jackson was bathed in a warm red glow, a beautiful sight on a normal day but you were too nervous to appreciate it. As you approached the diner you saw Joel through the window, sitting at a booth, looking down at his hands.

“I feel no need to forgive but I might as well

But let me kiss your lips so I know how it felt

Pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down

Walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell”

You entered the diner with a ding from the bell attached to the door. Joel looked up from his hands and met your eyes. You wordlessly walked to his booth and sat across from him, not knowing what to say. But again, Joel spoke first.

“I’m sorry you had to see that outside the Tipsy Bison last night…”

So he did see you. That made this so much worse.

You sighed, “You don’t have anything to apologize for. We’ve been broken up for like a month now.”

“I know but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you or your feelings anymore…”

He looked at you with a solemn expression on his face. Before either of you could say anything the waitress came over to take your order. 

“Can I get you two anything else besides coffee? Something to eat?”

Not in the mood to eat. Not during a talk like this. 

“Just the coffee for now,” you replied. 

“Same for me.”

“I’ll be right back with those,” she said before, turning and heading behind the counter. 

“I mean… I forgive you I guess?”

He nodded and reached your hand across the table.

But why? Why is he doing this if he supposedly moved on? You missed him, though. And you’d be lying to yourself right now if this didn’t make you at least a little bit happy. 

You took his hand and sighed, rubbing your thumb across his. 

“Why are we doing this? I thought we were supposed to be moving on. I’ve been trying to, at least.” It physically pained you to say those words but it was what needed to be said. He can’t just go home with another woman and then come back to you apologizing. He either wanted you or he didn’t.

He didn’t answer. The waitress returned with your coffees and you sipped on them silently; the warm liquid soothing you after a long day out in the cold.

You continued, “I just don’t get what’s going on here. It all feels like a mixed signal.”

“I want to move on. I really do. But when I try to move on I find myself feelin’ guilty. And it doesn’t help that we work the same patrol shift. I see you all the time and anytime I look at you, I just feel guilty.”

“I’ll make this easier for both of us, Joel,” you said, giving him a sad smile. “Don’t worry about me. Just live your life.”

Something compelled you to give him one final kiss before it was over forever. You leaned over the booth and gave him a quick, chaste kiss, even though you would regret it later. Before he could say anything in return, you slid out of the booth and stood up, getting ready to leave. 

“Goodbye, Joel,” you said before leaving him behind, in the past where he belongs. 

“Don’t hold your breath, forget you’ve ever saw me at my best

You don’t deserve what you don’t respect

Don’t deserve what you say you love and then neglect

Now bite your tongue, it’s too dangerous to fall so young

Take back what you said

Can’t lose what you never had”

The sun was setting. The people of Jackson were heading towards their homes, but not you. You walked through the dark streets, in a melancholy haze. You missed him so much but there was a reason your relationship ended. But still, you found yourself reminiscing on the good times; the patrol shifts together, him teaching you how to play guitar, laughing together with Ellie. But he didn’t love you the way you needed to be loved. It was understandable given all he went through. But he didn’t need to tell you he loved you and treat you otherwise. 

You met each other in Kansas City after FEDRA’s control there collapsed. 

And when you first got together he would always tell you to be careful falling for him. You were a lot younger than him. Looking back, he was probably right. But he stopped trying to fight your feelings towards him and just accepted it. And that’s all it most likely was at the end of the day; him just accepting you, not loving you back. At least that’s what you thought. Maybe there was a part of grumpy, stoic Joel Miller that loved you deep down. And if that part of him existed, he was terrible at letting it out. 

It wasn’t a breakup where one person broke up with the other. You both felt it coming for a while. The greatest love you’d ever known (or thought you’d ever known) slipped through your fingers. And you both felt it was time to cut it off. That was a little over a month ago and it hasn’t been any easier since.

After a while the frigid night turned into dawn. You stayed out the whole night, loafing around. Soon it would be time for your patrol shift but you thought about what Joel said.

“And it doesn’t help that we work the same patrol shift. I see you all the time and anytime I look at you, I just feel guilty.”

“You got a 9 to 5, so I’ll take the night shift

And I’ll never see you again if I can help it

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers

Dedicated to new lovers”

You spotted Tommy walking to his patrol shift and that’s when you got the idea: ask for the night shift.

“Tommy!” you shouted, “Wait up!”

He stopped walking and turned to face you. You jogged a little bit to catch up with him.

“Hey,” he said wearily, taking in your current state. “Did you go to bed last night?”

“No… But I actually had something I wanted to ask you.”

“Shoot.”

“Would it be alright if I took the night shift instead?”

He let out a small sigh. He knew what this was about. 

“…I don’t see why not.”

“Thanks. Can I start tonight?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Go home and get some sleep,” he said, looking at your tired face.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you replied before walking home.

You didn’t see Joel walk to his shift. Maybe he was already there. Maybe he would notice your absence. Maybe he wouldn’t care. Maybe he would be relieved. 

You walked inside and went straight to your bedroom, peeling off the clothes you had been wearing for the past twenty four hours. You slipped on something to wear to sleep and crumpled into bed, exhaustion taking you over. You still found yourself dreaming of Joel. You dreamt of when he taught you to play guitar. He knew some songs from before the outbreak but not a ton. So a lot of the songs you made up on the spot, not necessarily accompanied by singing either, something neither of you were skilled at. But it was something you two did together. It was something that made the detached Joel Miller enjoy himself for once. Maybe one day he would play those songs for someone else or forget yours and make up new ones entirely. Maybe he would teach her how to play guitar. Maybe he would give up that hobby altogether after you, finding it too painful. 

You slept throughout the whole day, waking up a couple of hours before your night shift. You opened your eyes groggily, not adjusted to the light coming in through the windows yet. You rubbed your eyes and opened them to see a tall, looming figure standing over your bed.

“What the fuck?!” you shouted, sitting upright. 

You blinked a few times and your vision focused. It was just Joel and he had a scowl on his face.

“Jesus Christ, Joel. You scared the shit out of me,” you said in an annoyed tone, trying to quell your racing heartbeat.

“The fuckin’ night shift?!” he said gruffly, still towering over you. 

“And what about it?” you challenged, folding your arms. 

“What was the fuckin’ reason for it,” he replied, sitting across from you on the bed.

“Thought about what you said yesterday… Seemed like the right thing to do if we’re gonna move on from each other…”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, but you don’t go and do something rash like that.”

“Something rash? You mean just swapping my work schedule? Last time I checked I didn’t have to consult with you about that.”

He fell silent so you continued, “You can’t just say you’re done with me; that you’re trying to move on, and then come here and get upset because I changed my work schedule. I’m sick of the fucking mixed signals, Joel. You either want me or you don’t.”

You finished your little speech with a loud sigh, sounding annoyed as fuck. The audacity of this man was unbelievable. He can take home some other woman the night before but come to your house, when you’re sleeping, and get all possessive? Enough was enough.

You scooched closer to him on the bed. 

“So what’s it gonna be, huh? Make up your fucking mind.”

Without warning his lips crashed against yours. His kisses were messy and sloppy. And almost angry. His hands found themselves in your hair. This was the exact opposite of what you should be doing but you didn’t care. You missed him so much. 

He pushed against you, coaxing you to lie down on the bed. And when you did, he hovered over you with a hungry, insatiable look in his eyes. He returned to kiss you messily while his hands roamed the rest of your body, trailing down to the pants you were wearing, thumbing at the waistband. You moaned softly underneath him and he pulled off your pants, tossing them on the floor. His hand grazed up your thigh, resting on your cunt that was growing wet in anticipation. 

“Bet you missed this,” he whispered against your ear. 

You let out a small whimper in response as his fingers teased your entrance, brushing against the wet, tender flesh. 

“You’re already so wet for me, darlin’.”

Darlin. That was an older pet name Joel had given you. And it’s been a while since you’ve heard it. That fucker knew exactly what he was doing. He knew all the ways to make you melt under his touch. 

You spread your legs open for him, gaining him access to slip a finger inside you. His mouth found your neck, peppering it with sloppy kisses. You rocked your hips against his hand, desperate for more. And when he finally gave you another finger, you felt the pleasure in your core building more and more. 

His mouth left your neck and trailed down to your entrance, licking small, soft circles around your sensitive clit. You knew you weren’t gonna last long like this, his fingers hitting your g-spot perfectly and his tongue caressing your clit in a way that sent you into intense euphoria. He always knew how to get you cum quickly and hard. 

“I’m gonna cum, Joel,” you whined. 

He moaned against your clit in response, letting you know he wanted to feel it. And when you did cum, it was intense. Your cunt fluttered around his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you relentlessly. You soaked his face in your cum as you rode out your high, rocking your hips against him. Once you were done coming, you collapsed your hips back down on the bed, legs still shaking. 

You were catching your breath when he looked up from your cunt and said “Not done with you yet, darlin’.”

He stood up from the bed for a moment to remove his clothes. You took the moment to sit up and pull off your shirt over your head, tossing it on the floor with your pants. He returned to the bed and hovered over you by your face. 

“Ready for me?”

You nodded and he aligned himself with your entrance, thrusting his hard cock into you extra slow to drive you insane. He took your legs and put them over his shoulders before you even had time to adjust to his size. It’d been a month since you’d taken his cock and you weren’t used to his size anymore. 

He leaned down so you were face to face, legs pushed back towards your head hitting the perfect angle inside you. It was intense and all you could do was moan and whimper as he fucked your wet, little cunt incessantly.

“Can’t tell you how much I missed this perfect cunt, darlin’. It’s like it was made for me.”

Between his dirty talk and the angle he was hitting inside you, you weren't gonna last long. You felt your walls tense up in anticipation of release. He sensed it too and thrusted in and out of you harder and harder, anxious to feel you cum around his cock.

“Give it to me, sugar. Cum on my cock.”

And when you did, it nearly sent him over the edge. He willed himself to wait until your release was over before pulling out. Stars prickled your vision and tears welled up in the corner of your eyes. Your release was intense, convulsing his cock like a vice. As he felt your orgasm come to an end, he pulled out. You reached in between your legs and stroked him to completion, coating your stomach in thick, white ropes of cum.

He slumped down on the bed next to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Neither of you dared to say a word as the feeling of regret started to sink in. You let your thoughts run wild as if to avoid talking about what just happened.

“You got a 9 to 5 so I’ll take the night shift

And I’ll never see you again if I can help it”

Maybe you couldn’t help it after all.

[hotchscoffeecup]

through love and loss

~for riv, happy birthday angel <3 thank you for letting me tell this story~

pairing: hotch/reader

rating: t

word count: 9.5k

genre: angst, hurt/comfort with a happy ending

summary: after witnessing your long-term friend and colleague profess his love for you moments before dying in the field, you struggle to cope with the grief and trauma of his loss. through his own experience with traumatic loss, day by day, Hotch aids in your healing and the feelings you begin to catch for him as time goes on scare you just as badly. Will you be able to move on and start again? Or will your grief be too much for you to bear?

“You’ve been one hell of a partner,” he says. His fingers gently clasp over yours and your panicked eyes glance up from the gaping wound in his abdomen to lock onto his. They’re surprisingly clear, the lights of the street lamps reflecting back at you in them. His blood paints your now intertwined fingers. Your gaze flickers between them and his eyes, the soft smile on his lips.

“Don’t say that,” you bite, your voice thick with tears. “Garcia!” you cry knowing she can hear you through your earpiece.

“Honey, they’re coming as fast as they can! Hotch is leading the charge, EMS is with them.” Her voice wavers as it crackles through the mic. “Just hold on.” You don’t know if she’s saying it to you or to him. His earpiece hadn’t fallen out when he caught the bullet and hit the ground.

“They won’t make it in time.” He says, choking out a pathetically weak laugh. “I always knew it could end like this. Can you make sure they use a good photo of me at the funeral? Maybe that shirtless selfie I took in Miami?”

“God, can’t you just shut the fuck up for once?” you snap as you apply more pressure to his abdomen. “You always have some kind of joke, some one liner.”

His smile cracks as you press down, a small “oomph” passing his lips. “You,” he takes a shuddering breath. “You love my jokes.”

“Yeah,” you bite as you blow a strand of sweat drenched hair out of your face, “and you can keep annoying me with them after you get to a hospital.”

“Humor me, will ya?”

Hot tears brim along your lash line as you paint on a smile. “Okay,” you answer tightly.

“My ma,” he starts. He coughs and a trickle of blood spills from the corner of his lips. “Tell her I got him, ok? She’ll need to hear that. And, and tell her I went laughing. That’ll help.”

You can’t help the sob that erupts from your throat, but you try your best to stifle it. His hand tightens around yours and you know it’s taking all of his strength to do that.

“Can you do that?”

You nod as tears stream down your cheeks, etching soft lines into your skin.

“And,” he coughs again as he struggles to breathe. “I can’t—” he rasps. “I can’t go without telling you.” His fingers shake as he withdraws them from your hand and reaches up to touch your cheek. Instinctively, your hand reaches up to support it, cradling the warmth of his palm against your face. He smiles as he winces. “I love you. Since the first day I saw you, I’ve loved you. I shouldn’t—” His features twist as a shudder racks his body and a sob breaks free from his lips. “I shouldn’t have put this job above that, what the Bureau would’ve thought. It’s all too short, ya know?” A bitter laugh tumbles free as he takes a deep breath.

You can hear the sirens now. They’re close, but not close enough. They won’t make it.

“Promise me,” he says, his voice wavering. His gaze locks on yours though you can hardly see for the tears blurring your vision. “The next time you feel love, you really, truly start to feel that hint of desire, those, those butterflies in your stomach, goddammit chase them, Catch that feeling, bottle it up, and don’t let it go for nothing. Promise me.”

You shake your head as you hold desperately onto his hand against your cheek. You feel his thumb weakly stroke the skin there.

Cars screech to a halt. Doors slam.

“I promise.”

His hand goes limp in yours.

The scream that tears from your body is primal and unearthly. This isn’t happening. It cannot happen. You scramble to check his pulse, to hope beyond hope you’ll feel the faintest of beatings; something, anything to signify that he’s still there. There’s nothing. Naturally, you move to begin CPR. Or at least you try to before two big arms thread through yours from behind, hooking you against the plane of someone’s body as they pull you away. You thrash and scream against their hold, fighting to get back to him.

“Let the medics do their job,” a voice says in your ear. Morgan. His grip tightens around you, not in a way that’s painful, but grounding. “Let them try.”

There’s a ringing in your ears, growing louder as you watch the two medics crowd around him. One cuts away the fabric of his shirt while another begins CPR. You watch on in silent, stunned horror.

“What happened?” another voice you recognize says sternly, though his voice sounds far away, like you’re underwater and he’s up above the surfaces.

The medics exchange a grim look after a couple of minutes. The one performing CPR’s rhythm slows until she’s doing nothing at all. She shakes her head.

Your knees buckle and you’re falling. Morgan responds immediately, trying to balance your weight against his own as you go to the ground. Though you're prepared to hit the asphalt, it never rises to meet you. Instead, you fall against the scratchy fabric of a Kevlar vest. Arms cradle you into the plane of a wide chest, your body spasming against their frame as uncontrollable sobs wrack your body. Harsh, guttural screams tear from you, your breathing uneven and irregular as you struggle for air between sobs. Black spots dot your vision.

“You have to breathe,” a faraway voice says. His tone is even, modulated. “Listen to me.” He says your name. Your name. Your name. You latch onto that. You try to, but oh my God. He’s dead. You watched him die. You felt his life leave his body. He loves you…loved you.

“I think she’s going into shock. Medic!”

Everything feels detached, like your limbs are not your own. A light shines in your eyes, but you don’t flinch away. You see the stars. You’re on your back? Your fingers buzz and shake involuntarily, numbness creeping in as you fight to inhale a full breath. A hand clasps yours. It's warm. Something slips over your nose and mouth, a mask? Breathing feels easier, but not by much.

“She suffered a blow to the head—”

Had you? Yes, wait. The fight before. The scramble for the gun. The unsub had wrestled it out of your hand and struck you over the head with the butt of the weapon and then…then two shots rang out.

White stars explode behind your eyes, blinding you. There’s a ringing in your ears.

“He loved me,” you whisper as your vision blurs.

Someone’s calling your name.

“He told me he loved me.”

And then it’s dark, and there’s nothing. And you don’t have to feel anymore.

•

“I can walk you inside.”

“I’m fine, Hotch. Just—” You close your eyes and inhale slowly. You’re not fine. You don’t know if you’d ever be fine. You smooth down the black fabric of your dress, the silk wrinkled from how tightly you’d held onto it during the service. Your knuckles ache from clenching them so hard and your palms sting, littered with half moon cuts from

digging your nails into them; any external stimulation to distract your mind from what was actually happening. Anything to keep from breaking down in front of everyone.

“Just?” he hedges.

You blink out of your stupor and stop staring at the dash. “Thank you for the ride,” you say curtly. Without meeting his gaze, you hastily exit the SUV and step into the rain. You clutch your arms against your chest, holding your double breasted trench closed over your body as you tuck your head and slip through the double doors into your apartment complex, hardly registering the motions of entering your code into the keypad.

God knows how many times you’ve walked this path to your apartment, but today it seems longer. You feel the pressure of each step in these uncomfortably tall, but not too tall, heels. Your purse bounces against your leg as you walk, each step heavier than the last. The ride to the top floor takes longer than ever and when you arrive in front of your door you almost can’t recall which key on your ring will unlock it.

The door to your apartment yawns open to greet you, yet you kick it shut, clamping its lips together to envelop you in darkness once again. Everything is the same, yet it’s all different. You stand there on the doormat staring down the short corridor you cross through day in and day out. Did he know he’d leave his apartment for the last time that day?

The hall leads to the open concept shared living room and kitchen areas. Despite all of the shades being drawn, the wide rectangular sliding glass door ahead emits shrouded gray light from behind the curtains. Without clear thought, you move toward it, dropping your keys and purse on the ground at the door. Mindlessly, your fingers move to the buttons of your coat. Shrugging out of the bulky layer, it falls to the floor in a ripple of fabric as you push the curtain open and unlock the door. The dull pitter patter of raindrops crescendos as you slide open the door, the thick glass no longer dampening the sound of the downpour. You breathe in the crisp November afternoon as a wall of cold air slams into you, eliciting goosebumps across your exposed flesh. You don’t think as you step out into the rain, the wind blowing sideways.

Standing still, you let the rain pelt you and the wind throw your hair. It doesn’t take long for it to soak through your dress, which now clings to your figure. Your hair sticks to your face and neck, a tangled mess of mother nature’s finest. The cold seeps in just as fast and before long your lips are quivering and your teeth are chattering. You feel it bruise down to your bones, yet you don’t move. You feel the icy sting because anything is better than feeling his loss. Anything is better than feeling the raw agony of grief as it digs its fingers into your chest and holds your beating heart in its hand and mocks your pain, never letting you forget a second of that night.

There’s your name on the wind, wait, no. It’s behind you. Your instincts have slowed, like deadened nerves, they don’t react the same.

“What are you doing out here?”

You blink and Hotch is standing just outside of your back door, his hand shielding his eyes from the rain. Your lip quivers in response as he steps forward and pulls you inside. He immediately shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders before guiding you to the couch.

“God, you’re freezing,” he says as he drops your hand in your lap. “I’ll get some towels.”

You stare at your hands in your lap as he stands, his footsteps echoing down the hall. He returns with two. The first, he passes to you and you just hold it. The second he uses to blot your face before draping it over your shoulders and pulling your hair off your neck and face, smoothing it over your ears and shoulders so it falls over the towel.

When he sits, his eyes meet yours. They’re a deep brown, like coffee, coffee without milk. They’re warm like coffee, too. Just looking into them begins to just barely chisel at the ice you’ve let burrow deep into your bones.

His brow pinches. “God, what the hell were you thinking? You’re going to get sick standing out there in the rain and cold like that.”

Your fingers curl around the towel in your lap, your gaze fixed on the coffee table. “I needed to feel anything else,” your voice cracks as tears well along your lash line. “Because if I don’t, all I’ll feel is the hurt and it’s so deep, and I’m so scared that this is all I’ll ever feel.”

Hotch’s features soften, his lips parting. He knows the feeling all too well. “It seems like that now.” His voice is soft. “When I lost Haley, even though we’d been divorced for some time, it felt like my world had crumbled out from under me and I wondered if I’d ever be able to rebuild it.”

A strangled sob escapes your lips and you hug the towel to your chest. “How? you ask, voice pleading. “How do you do that? I want to do that. I need to start, because I can’t…I can’t live with this pain, Hotch.”

“It’s not immediate,” he answers. “It’ll take a long time for the pain to subside to where it’s only a dull ache and then one day, you’ll wake up and it won’t hurt anymore. You have to give yourself grace and let yourself feel the agony of his loss. Stop trying to push it down. You don’t have to save face for anyone.”

Your voice is small when you speak. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Hotch responds empathetically. “Grieving is the hardest part.” His hand reaches for yours. It’s warm against your icy skin and you remember this feeling. He’d been the one to hold your hand as the paramedics loaded you into the ambulance that night. For the first time, you raise your eyes to meet his.

“I don’t think I can come back,” you say, “not now.”

Hotch nods. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Take the bereavement. I’ll pull some strings to grant an extension on it. When it runs out, we can revisit a return to work.” He squeezes your hand and inclines his head to really look at you. “I understand what you’re going through more than anyone. I know how easy it is to want to isolate and shut the world out. When you feel that darkness calling you? I want you to call me instead. I’ll help guide you out of it. Can you do that?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth to stop its trembling and nod. “I can do that.”

•

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears as the elevator slowly climbs to the floor where the BAU works from. Your fingers twitch along your side as you watch the numbers light up with each passing story. When the elevator dings, signaling it’s your turn to face reality, you square your shoulders and stride through the doors as they part.

A shock of blonde and pink hair greets you immediately. Arms are around you, squeezing you against a fuzzy green cardigan that smells faintly of jasmine.

A small smile tugs at your lips and you're surprised to hear laughter from your lips. “It’s nice to see you, too, Penelope.”

“I missed you!” she says, a wide smile on her pink lips.

“I’ve missed the team,” you say, peering around her. “Is everyone here?”

She shrugs, “It’s Monday morning so everyone is filtering in. You know how it goes.” She turns toward the double doors leading inside. She points over her shoulder with a pen topped with a purple pom pom. Her lips press together. “Are you ready?”

You inhale slowly and swallow.

You know this is going to be hard, but it has been a month. You were sleeping through most nights and had begun seeing the Bureau appointed therapist to cope with the trauma and loss. Hotch had kept his word too. When you had holed yourself away in your room; takeout containers barely touched, forgetting to take showers, and had laundry piled so high it threatened to bury you in an avalanche of fabric, you called him. That’s all you’d done. You couldn’t speak when you did. It had taken all of your strength just to find his contact and hit ‘dial.’

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” was all he’d said before hanging up.

Penelope had given him the spare key to your apartment that she’d still had from when she watered your plants whenever a case kept you out for longer periods of time than usual. He’d figured you’d not have the strength to pull yourself out of bed. He hadn’t even come into your room when he’d first gotten there. He announced himself when he’d entered, not that you’d have reacted if it were an intruder. Ok, that might have been bullshit. At your core, you were still an agent and those instincts would’ve kicked in. You’d stayed in your blanket cocoon as the sound of dishes clanking and water splashing echoed from the kitchen. He’d knocked on your door and entered with a trash bag, collecting takeout and emptied the rather gross and overflowing bedroom trash can by your bed that you’d filled with tissues from the sporadic sob sessions that would overtake you. Silently, he’d pulled your clothes up off the floor into the hamper and started a load of wash. Only when things were clean did he sit on the edge of your bed and let you fall into him and fall apart all over again.

“Rossi sent me with a home cooked lasagna. It should last the week and then he’ll send another next week. I stocked your fridge with Gatorade. You’ll get sick if you dehydrate and trust me, you don’t want that to happen.” It had sounded like he’d spoken from experience.

When you’d managed to stop crying, you’d sniffed and looked up at him. “Did I hear you humming the “clean up” song?”

“It helps Jack stay on task at home,” he’d said, a soft smile and blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Sweetie?”

You blink. Penelope is looking at you, the concern clear on her face.

You clear your throat and nod. “I’m ready.”

As you enter the bullpen, you don’t miss the way people pretend not to stare as you pass by; watching for cracks in your face and your body that might fracture leaving them to pick up the pieces. There’s a tension in the room as you pass his desk, a pregnant pause as they await your reaction but you’d been preparing for it. You feel the pain flow through you and take slow, measured breaths. The dread passes. The room breathes a sigh of relief.

It isn’t until later in the day that you’re passing the briefing room to deliver a file to Hotch in his office that you notice his photo on the wall honoring fallen heroes within the Bureau; his name embossed on a golden placard and eager, bright face smiling back at you.

Your ceramic coffee cup shatters as it hits the tile. Heads turn in your direction and Hotch is quick enough to react, stealing out of his office and reeling you back into it before you crash onto your knees unable to breathe.

•

Work gets easier. The routine becomes familiar again. There are good days and bad days. You don’t break down again at work after the initial shock on your first day back. Aaron checks in with you regularly as does the rest of your team. Hotch seems to pay extra attention, though, and you wonder if the team notices just how close you’d become over the last few months.

It started out simple enough; an extra “how are you?” or bringing you a cup of coffee in the morning. On your first week back, he’d only brought you decaf. “I don’t want to increase any anxiety you might be feeling,” he’d said.

You weren’t cleared to return to the field for two months, so you’d stay behind when the team left; helping remotely from the office with Penelope. You’d missed Hotch during the cases that took them far away from home. At first you told yourself, you were only missing how within reach Hotch had been when you were having a harder time making it through the day. You’d chided yourself and told yourself that it's time to cut the cord, that you had to learn to stand on your own two feet again sooner or later without him there to be your crutch. But was that all you missed?

Having him around made breathing feel easier. It made waking up in the morning seem worth it. He reminds you why you face each day and of the important work you do for the community and country at large. He reminded you why he wouldn’t want you to suffer like this months after the fact.

As you sit at your desk awaiting a phone call from Spencer to get you that update from the morgue, you lean back in your chair and close your eyes. Your ears pick up on the rustling of papers, the gentle whir of the copy machine, phones ringing, and people talking. It’s all so normal. It feels like any other day at the office, yet it feels hollow still.

Hotch had been working on it with you, though. He knew that you’d been withdrawing, despite having come back. You still weren’t taking people up on their offers to go out on weekends or getting a drink after work. It was all too exhausting. So, he started slowly with you. At first, it was really just making sure that you were meeting your basic needs. He’d schedule a time with you at the weekend to go out and get groceries; easy grab and go items because you still didn’t have much energy to cook. He’d help you unpack them and then head back home, not before giving you a hug and telling you how proud he was of you. Eventually, as you’d been able to handle more, he invited you on outings with him and Jack. You’d go watch one of his soccer games or go to the park. Seeing someone so carefree and innocent brought real joy to your heart and it suddenly didn’t seem so unnatural to smile and laugh. And during all of this Hotch had even shared his own experiences with how he’d handled his grief when Haley died. He’d done it all alone though. He’d confided this in you one night over a glass of wine and Thai takeout in your living room.

“I wish I’d had someone to help pull me out of the thick of it, the grief.” he’d said and you’d stopped chewing your food.

“You went through this all on your own?” you’d replied, stricken by the thought.

He’d nodded as he’d wiped a napkin over his lips. “Haley’s sister would keep Jack for a week at a time because I could hardly take care of myself, let alone my own son. It felt terrible, like I was failing him and failing Haley all over again. I would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, pouring over every little detail wondering what I could’ve done differently, how I could’ve changed the ending.”

“Then what?” you’d asked, because you’d been plagued by the same nightmarish loop of that night.

A soft smile had graced his lips then. “I finally accepted that there’s no way I can change the past. I can wish and hope and beg and plead for a do-over, but that just doesn’t happen. I could either live in that painful memory forever or be grateful I got to have the time with her that I did and do everything in my power to honor her life with my own. I chose to keep living.”

Your phone rings, pulling you out of the memory.

“Hey Spence, any update from the morgue?”

“Mm, not Reid.”

You sit up straighter. “Oh, Hotch. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I’m leaving the station now to go interview the victim’s wife and wanted to check in.”

“Oh, sir. You didn’t have to do that. Things are fine here. Penelope and I are holding down the fort.”

“You know that’s not what I’m calling to check in about.”

Your brow furrows. Is that a smile you hear in his voice?

You lower your voice. “I’m fine.”

“If being back in the office is too much, too soon I can petition—”

“Really, Hotch,” you say, keeping your voice down. “It feels good to be busy again. If I’m caught up in work, my mind can’t dwell elsewhere. I’m right where I need to be.”

“Well, not right where you need to be,” Hotch comments.

There’s an immediate silence that follows, his words hanging in the liminal space between you and him over the line.

You open your mouth to speak when a beep hits your line. You pull your phone from your ear and see an incoming call alongside Spencer’s photo illuminating your screen. “That’s Spencer on the other line. I uh, I gotta go.”

•

You startle awake, heart hammering inside your chest. His name leaves your lips in a jagged, anguished cry. Cold sweat trickles down your face as you bolt upright, digging your fingers into the mattress to steady yourself.

The door to your room swings open and Hotch hurries to your bedside. You blink hard following the intrusion but quickly remember why Hotch is even here in the first place.

Jack had had a sleepover party at a friend’s house nearby, so you’d asked if he wanted to come over and have a Lord of the Rings marathon. It was playing on cable all evening and you did love those hairy footed hobbits. Hotch had smiled and said something about it having been years since he’d seen them. You’d started to doze three quarters through The Two Towers and he’d encouraged you to go to bed. You told him that he was welcome to stay and keep watching and he’d made some crack about you having a comfortable couch to fall asleep on. Your apartment was closer to Jack’s sleepover party than Hotch’s apartment, so it just made sense for him to stay. Or at least that’s what you’d told yourself.

He smooths back the hair that’s stuck to your face and the feel of his fingers on your skin helps ground you back to reality.

“Deep breaths,” he soothes. “Here.” he passes you the glass of water off of your nightstand and you mutter a thank you as you gulp it down.

When you finish, he takes the glass from you and replaces it on the nightstand. His other hand curls into yours.

“Hey,” he says, inclining his head to intercept the trajectory of your blank stare. Your eyes shift to meet his. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You press your lips together and shake your head. “It was all the same. Just that night in high definition except,” you swallow and shake your head, hoping it clears the image away like when you’re a kid and shake your Etch A Sketch when you want to create a new picture, “the unsub was laughing. From where he lay, dead on the ground, he was laughing. Blood bubbled up through his teeth as he did so and he just kept laughing.” You drop your head into your hands and rub your temples. “I swear I can still hear it. I can still see his open eyes, unseeing, while he laughed.”

Hotch rubs small circles on your back. “I know how scary it is, how unsettling it can be. It’s only a dream. The unsub is dead. He can’t hurt you or anyone else anymore.”

“How long?” you ask, exhaustion heavy in your voice.

“How long, what?”

“How long do the dreams last?”

Hotch sucks a breath in through his teeth. “I wish I had an answer for you,” he says. “There are some nights I still wake up in a cold sweat just like you, Haley’s name on my lips. There are nights I dream that I saved her, nights where I got to Foyet before he got to her. There are nights I dream of Foyet standing over me, of his knife—”

Your hand slips into his and this time it’s Aaron’s turn to lift his eyes to meet yours. “I understand.”

A small smile turns the corners of his lips. “They get easier to live with.” He pulls you into his arms. You close your eyes and let yourself mold against his frame. The smell of cedar and teakwood has become familiar to you, comforting too. You inhale deeply as he squeezes you against him.

“I should let you get back to sleep,” he says as he pulls away.

“Stay?” you blurt awkwardly, voice smaller than usual.

Aaron’s brow arcs in response. “I’ll be right outside.”

“With me,” you say, gesturing toward the bed. “Just,” you breathe out slowly. You feel vulnerable. Your voice cracks despite how hard you try to keep it steady. “Can you just hold me? For a little while? I’m afraid to close my eyes just to see that smile again.”

“I—” he starts and stops. You feel your lip begin to quiver and you wish you could stuff your words back inside your mouth. He is still your boss. What the hell kind of request was that for you to make? Before you can tell him to forget it, he speaks again.

“Of course I can.”

You shift awkwardly, heart hammering now for an altogether different reason, as you make room for him to slide in next to you.

He eases onto the bed, stretching his legs out in front of him atop the covers and crosses one over the other.

He stretches his arm nearest you, “Come here,” he says softly and almost hesitantly, you lay your head against his chest. His heart beats evenly, if not a little quicker than what you imagine his resting heart rate ought to be. Was he nervous too? Was this crossing a line? Before your mind can run away with anxious thoughts, he wraps his other arm across your body while his hand finds its way into your hair, his fingers gently combing through it in slow, soothing movements.

You feel his eyes on you and you want to tilt your face up to look into them, but something holds you back. Instead you let your lashes flutter close and mutter something about only staying until you fall asleep. If you weren’t lying right beneath his lips, you might’ve missed the whisper of laughter that tumbles from them.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says as he drops his hand to your shoulder and strokes deliberate, gentle lines up and down the skin there.

He talks then; about work, about Jack, just about anything until his voice sounds further and further away and you’re fast asleep. And for the first time since you can’t remember when, it’s dreamless.

•

The hum of the jet’s engine should lull you to sleep at this hour yet you continue to scratch notes into your legal pad, not wanting to forget any details to add to your case report. You’d had trouble concentrating when you’d departed from LAX and had spent the first few hours of the flight lost in your thoughts.

The case had gone well. Within 72 hours, you’d delivered the profile and successfully captured the unsub. Richard Pyre, aged 32, had been kidnapping young women and strangling them, leaving their bodies in public places. Local PD had done an excellent job of canvassing the streets. The team came in and connected the missing pieces they’d not been able to decipher and together, you all had caught the bad guy. It was a slam dunk case. So, it shouldn’t be taking you long to compile notes for your report.

You just couldn’t get him off of your mind. It had been a month since Hotch had stayed over at your place, since you’d wept in his arms and begged him to hold you until you fell asleep. The memory alone brings a hot, embarrassed flush to your cheeks. Why? Because Hotch had fallen asleep in bed with you. His phone alarm that he’d set to remind him to pick up Jack from his sleepover had gone off in the living room. When it continued to beep, you’d stirred awake. At first you’d been confused, not remembering having set an alarm as it was Saturday, but then you’d felt the rise and fall of a chest underneath you. Aaron Hotchner was still in your bed, arms around you. He’d pulled the throw blanket from the end of your bed up and over his legs at some point during the night and just fallen asleep too.

For a moment you’d been scared to move, afraid of what lines had been crossed despite not having engaged in any sexual activities. That was your boss in your bed, for Christ’s sake. Yes, the pair of you had been blurring the lines with friendship lately as he’d become so integral to your life. But then again, everyone in the BAU kinda sorta blurred the lines between colleagues and friends. But you’d never woken up in anyone else’s arms.

You’d tried to slip out of his arms without waking him, but between the movement and his alarm going off in the other room you’d never stood a chance. He stirred awake and rubbed his eyes.

“Good morning,” you’d said awkwardly.

He’d immediately dropped his arms from around your body and cleared his throat. “I, uh,” he breathed in deeply and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I must’ve fallen asleep, I’m sorry.” He’d quickly exited the bed and scurried into the living room, where he’d swiped his alarm off.

He’d quickly collected his belongings, muttering about needing to pick up Jack. He’d averted your gaze and apologized again before giving you a quick hug and making a rather hasty exit from your apartment.

You didn’t talk about the incident afterwards, but something had definitely shifted between the two of you.

You drop your pencil onto the table and angle the reading light more towards yourself to not disturb Reid who breathes deeply as he sleeps across from you, arms cuddling his beloved satchel to his chest. As you reach for your coffee, you exhale a heavy sigh when you notice it's empty. You don’t even remember finishing it. You check your watch: 1:22AM. You really ought to try and sleep, but instead you rise to fix another cup.

Walking on the balls of your feet to not disturb the rest of the sleeping team, you make your way toward the back of the plane where the restroom and bar are situated. The red light still blinks on the coffee machine, signaling it’s been keeping the half-full pot hot all this time. As you lift the pot and begin to pour, someone speaks.

“Another cup? Really?”

You startle at the sound of Hotch’s voice, causing you to miss your cup and spill coffee on your hand. You hiss quietly and shake your hand, flinging drops of coffee across the counter.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Hotch whisper-shouts as he withdraws his pocket square and dries your hand. He moves, bringing your hand under the bar’s lighting to inspect for injuries. Fortunately, it’s just a few blotchy red spots that ought to go away in a couple of hours. His thumb gently strokes the skin around it and your breath catches in your throat. You watch for a few moments, feeling your heart slowly start to beat its way into your throat the longer he holds onto your hand. A part of you wants to draw nearer to him, but instead you clear your throat.

“You should sleep,” he says, finally, dropping your hand. You miss the feel of his fingers immediately.

“Hi Pot, I’m Kettle, you reply snarkily.

Aaron’s lips twitch into a smile. “Yes, well. Typically, I’m working on a lot more than you’ve got to worry about as Unit Chief. I’m usually up at this hour anyway. You, on the other hand, are usually asleep with everyone else. Are you still having nightmares?”

You swallow and turn away, ripping open a packet of Splenda and stirring it into your coffee. “No, actually. Not since—”

“Since?” he presses.

You pick up your mug and turn back around to face him. “Since you stayed the night at my place.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes widen just slightly. He swallows and fidgets with the buttons of his suit jacket. Aaron Hotchner is fidgeting, a clear sign he’s nervous and holding something back.

“It scares me too,” you whisper after a long stretched out silence, hardly discernible.

“What’s that?” Hotch says, tone shifting.

You focus on the heat of the coffee mug in your hands as you press your thumbs into the ceramic to try and fight the heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Whatever this is, these feelings. I’m not stupid, Hotch, and neither are you. We’ve clearly crossed a line and I don’t know how to uncross it.” You take a deep breath, feeling like you’re rambling. “I don’t know how to think around you anymore. Everyday I wake up and get excited because I know I’m going to see you. You bring Jack over on the weekends and it fills me with so much joy I don’t know how to cope with it. And then I feel guilty because I’ve toed this line before. I toed the line and was too afraid because of my job and protocols and it left my heart so broken I didn’t think I’d ever get to put it back together again. Then you come along with your tapes and your glues and you find a way to turn the fractured pieces of my heart into this mosaic of something capable of beating once more.” A tear slips from the corner of your eye and drips down your cheek, falling into your coffee with a soft plop. You raise your eyes to meet his, “Now you tell me what I’m supposed to do with that.”

At this point, your heart is slamming in your chest. Afraid of triggering a panic attack, you turn around and dump the coffee into the small sink carved into the small bar. You don’t need it nor want it anymore.

Hotch says your name and reaches for your arm but you pull away, turning and moving back to your seat at the opposite end of the jet. He could follow, but he won’t. Fortunately for you, Reid being asleep in the seat across from you and Derek being sprawled out across the way didn’t leave much room for Aaron to follow through on your conversation.

•

When the plane lands, you pull your go-bag down from the overhead bins alongside your gun case and cut out as soon as the doors open and the stairs descend.

Emily calls after you, but you duck your head and push ahead off the tarmac and onto the path leading back to the office. You’d finished your report on the plane. Once inside, you drop the manila envelope in the box affixed next to the door to Hotch’s office and dip back out through the main office doors. The elevator dings, alerting you that the rest of the team is about to walk through those doors. Not feeling up to facing anyway you move swiftly to the staircase and push the door open, sliding your body through as the whoosh of the elevator begins to open.

Your thoughts move too quickly as your feet slap against each step, your footsteps echoing in the empty chamber of the stairwell. When you reach the ground level, the parking garage, you fish your keys out of the front pocket of your bag and press the key fob, unlocking your car. Opening the trunk, you toss your go-bag in and place your gun case beside it before slamming it shut. After sliding into the front seat, you put your seatbelt on and back out of your space. As you shift your hands to cut the wheel to the right, someone jumps in front of your car with their hands up.

You slam the breaks and curse. You roll your window down. “Christ, Spencer! What the hell are you doing?”

He lowers his hands and moves to the driver's side window, awkwardly adjusting his satchel on his shoulder as he does so. He swallows and tilts his head to the side, brow furrowed. He takes a few deep breaths. He’d clearly been rushing to follow after you. “I was uh, wondering if I could get a ride home.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “JJ was going to give me a ride, but something with Henry—”

“Just get in,” you say, too exhausted to care.

“Thank you, thank you.” He rushes around the car and clambers into the passenger seat.

For a while neither of you speak. When you pull out of the garage, the sun hurts your eyes. You cuss under your breath as you reach for your sunglasses.

“Why’d you rush off the plane so fast?” Spencer asks as you turn onto the main road. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone disembark the jet that quickly.

You press your lips together, not really wanting to have this conversation. “Maybe I just really want to go home. I’m pretty exhausted, aren’t you?”

He nods quickly, considering. “See, I think this has more to do with the conversation you and Hotch had on the plane.”

You jerk the wheel to the side, causing Spencer to cling to the handle above his seat. The sound of your tires screeching to halt echo as a car swerves and honks.

“What the hell, Spence?” you shout, pulling your sunglasses off to look him in the eye. “Did you lie to me about needing a ride just so you could trap me in this conversation?” You point a finger at him. “That’s fucked up. I don’t like lying. We’re friends.”

He tenses, flinching under your hard stare. “And that’s exactly why I’m doing this,” he says, voice tight.

You lower your finger, posture relaxing only slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been paying more attention to dynamics across the team over the last eight months. I read a study on how shared trauma can impact working relationships; some for the better and some for worse. Fortunately, our team seems to have stayed relatively strong following—” He pauses, eyes shifting to yours and then back to his hands in his lap. “His death. Anyway, obviously you took it the hardest, what with having worked closest with him and the lines you walked between colleague and romantic partner.”

You feel your heart squeeze inside your chest, yet Spencer continues on.

“I didn’t see it at first. I thought Hotch was just checking in on you as is his duty as Unit Chief and having to make sure we’re all fit to be in the field. However, as time progressed I started to notice shifts in the way Hotch spoke to you and even his body language around you, even when you weren’t in the office.”

That strikes a chord deep within you. “Okay, and?”

He sits up straighter, lips pursing as he decides how to continue. “It started quite small. I’d catch him end a call with you while out on a case and he’d be smiling, other times his nostrils would flare and he’d wipe his hands down the fronts of his pants, likely because they were clammy, much like you’re doing right now.” He indicates toward you and you clench your hands into fists.

“So, what?”

He laughs exasperatedly. “So, what? You don’t have to be a behavior analyst to see these are all behaviors in line with burgeoning romantic feelings for someone.”

“I don’t—” your words falter as you fail to come up with an excuse.

“You’re scared,” Spencer states. “Moving on is the scariest part. There’s so many feelings attached to it: guilt, remorse, anger, fear, relief, joy. It’s normal to be afraid, but don’t let that fear hold you back from allowing yourself a chance at happiness.”

You swallow thickly as you feel the familiar pressure of tears burn the backs of your eyes. “It’s only been eight months. It feels wrong.”

“I miss him too, you know?” Spencer says after a minute. “I know I might not have been as close to him as you were. You two were in the Academy together after all.” He reaches across the center console and takes one of your hands in his. “And I know that once upon time you and him considered taking your relationship further but decided not to because you were just starting out with the Bureau, but,” he says your name and smiles. “His profession of feelings for you doesn’t mean he’d never want you to find that for yourself. He just wanted you to know that while he was a part of your life, he loved you for all of it. I don’t think he’d want to see you hurt like this. I really don’t.” His clear eyes search yours as he smiles. “For as short a time together as we had, I loved Maeve every day I knew her.”

“Spence—” he cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“I miss her every day and it’s been two years. I’m not really a guy that goes on dates very often. I’m awkward and weird and I know this about myself. I do know though, that if I am lucky enough to find someone again that loves me, that she would want me to be happy. At least, I’d have wanted her to if our situations had been reversed and I’d been the one to die that day. I wouldn’t have wanted her to put her own happiness on hold.” He squeezes your hand. “You don’t have to put your life on hold. That doesn’t mean you’ll forget him.”

He drops your hand and points to the road. “I’ll buy you breakfast by the way, to make up for the lying.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt and lunge over the passenger seat to pull him into a hug. Spencer wheezes as your body weight collides with him, but his slender arms snake around your back to return the embrace.

“Thank you, Spence.”

•

Usually, after a case, you have a shower and immediately go to bed. Not this time though. Spencer’s words play over in your mind again and again as you pace the length of your apartment floor.

You’d picked up your phone a dozen times to call Aaron, but each time you’d dropped it back onto the counter.

Eventually, you just plop down onto the couch and drop your head in your hands. “Why is this so hard?” you mumble to yourself.

You look up and make eye contact with the picture of you and him from the office Christmas party two years ago. He’s wearing a Santa hat and you’ve got on a headband giving you a pair of reindeer antlers. He holds a Solo cup in the air (Rossi had definitely spiked the eggnog) and the smiles on both of your faces are so genuine. A pang of guilt shoots through as you pick up the frame and cradle it to your chest, as if that was anywhere close to what a hug from him would feel like.

“I wish you were here to tell me what to do,” you whisper.

Spencer’s words move through your mind again, especially what he’d said about Maeve. God, this team has dealt with more love and loss than any normal group of people ought to deal with, but then again you all weren’t exactly a normal group of people.

Spencer had a point though. Rationally, you know he wouldn’t want you to hold yourself back from the possibility of love and happiness with someone. You smirk to yourself because you can picture him sitting next to you making some crack about not ever thinking that man would be Hotch. He’d probably point out that Hotch was at least ten years your senior and make some dumb joke about being a gold digger. You’d never really thought about how much Hotch made compared to the rest of you, but with his title and tenure at the Bureau, it probably was up there.

If you are to do this, pursue whatever is going on between you and Aaron, presuming that that was also something he wanted, it won’t be easy. There’s enough red tape as is, let alone throwing relationships and romance into the mix. However, Rossi and Strauss had been together for a year prior to her untimely death. Again, this team had been through too much. She was his superior and there hadn’t been any problems that you’d been aware of, though no one had really been aware of their relationship until it was too late.

God, you wonder. Even Rossi hadn’t been afforded a chance at long term happiness with her. Is the BAU team just destined for trauma and loss? Maybe you should put a stop to this before it has the chance to go any further…but on the other hand you know Spencer would give his left arm if it meant having one more day with Meave. David would probably do the same to be with Erin. So, what were you doing? Why was it even a question?

You place the photo frame back in its place on the side table and grab your phone and keys off the counter. You know you look a bit disheveled. You’d not bothered to change or shower since getting home. You probably still smelled like plane funk too, but if you didn’t go see him now, you probably never would.

You pull open your front door and nearly trip over yourself as you force stop to keep from barreling into Hotch.

His hand is raised, like he is about to knock on the door no longer between you two. He licks his lips nervously and drops his hand after a

moment of you two staring at each other in stunned silence.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry to barge in like this.”

An uncomfortable laugh flits between the two of you as your voices overlap.

“Do you want to come in?” you say, gesturing behind you.

Hotch nods, “Please.”

You shuffle to the side and he steps into your apartment, eyes bouncing around the space. “You’ve managed to keep up with the place, that’s good.”

You cross your arms over your chest, hugging your biceps with your hands. “I find that humming the ‘clean up’ song helps.”

A pink blush sparks across his cheeks at your jab. “I’m glad that’s now a part of my legacy.”

There’s another awkward laugh followed by an even more awkward silence.

You rub your hands up and down your arms, suddenly finding yourself not as brave as you were feeling minutes early.

“Aaron, what are you doing here?” you manage to say after a few more awkward moments of silence.

Hotch presses lips together before taking a deep breath. He sweeps his thumb across his lips, suddenly looking very determined as he meets your eyes. “What I should’ve done on the plane.”

It takes seconds for him to cross the space between you. His hands clasp the sides of your face and then his lips are on yours, kissing you with such fervor you’re surprised that you don’t see stars. At first, you don’t even react, too stunned to believe this is happening. And then your arms are looping around his neck and you’re deepening the kiss, tasting the coffee on his lips as your tongue slips between them.

After a minute, he pulls away and you’re both breathless. He presses his forehead to yours and gasps. You look up at him from beneath your lashes and his eyes are wild and searching.

“We’re doing this, then?” you say between breaths.

Hotch nods and brushes his nose against yours. “I don’t think it’ll be easy.”

You twist your fingers into his hair, your lips brushing his as you speak. “Nothing about our lives is easy.”

He kisses you once, quick and brief. “So, we’re doing this?”

“We’re doing this.”

•

*Two years later

“Penelope is really excited about it,” you say as you pull your knees to your chest. The sun is shining brightly, but the crisp fall air is still chilly enough to warrant a scarf and light jacket.

“She wants it to be bright and colorful, with peonies and baby’s breath everywhere. There’s a board in her office with enough strings and photos connected you’d think it was a case.” You laugh to yourself and smooth a hand across the gingham pattern picnic blanket beneath you.

“There will be a chair for you,” you say wistfully. “It’ll be next to ones for Haley, Erin, and Maeve.”

You reach out and brush your fingers along the perfectly etched letters of his name. “I hope you’ll be there.”

The sun glints off of the circular cut engagement ring on your left hand, casting a dazzling rainbow across his tombstone.

“I think about the promise I made you,” you say as you adjust the bouquet of sunflowers and roses you’d propped against his grave and smile to yourself knowing he’d probably make fun of you for the way you diligently make sure there’s always some fresh arrangement to decorate the space. “I was scared when I first started to feel things for him, scared of what that meant. It took me a long time, and an oddly sentimental conversation with Reid to start chasing the feeling.” You laugh to yourself then. “I felt the butterflies though, and though it took a while, I did finally chase them.”

A small gasp escapes your lips then as a Monarch Butterfly lands on top of the stone. You don’t know a ton about their migration patterns, but you know it’s late enough in the Fall that they should all be gone. JJ had said something to you once long ago about how butterflies can be signs of your loved ones from beyond the grave, their way of visiting when they can.

There’s the pitter patter of small feet whooshing through the grass as Jack’s laughter echoes throughout the field as he races toward you.

“Daddy and I finished visiting Mommy,” he says as he throws his small arms around you. Haley had been buried at Quantico National Cemetery too given Aaron’s position within the Bureau. You wrap your arms around Jack’s and look up to see that Hotch is smiling down at the two of you. He asks you if you’re done with your visit, referring to him as uncle. You palm Jack’s small cheek in your hand as your lips curve into a small half smile and tears fill your eyes.

“Just about,” you say.

Aaron stretches a hand toward you and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet.

You glance down at his grave once more and watch the butterfly sit atop the stone gently stretching its wings. It lifts off after a few more beats, fluttering around before landing on your sweater, its small legs hooking onto the threads of your sleeve.

You gasp in disbelief as you watch it climb a couple of inches before it takes off toward the clouds.

A tear slips down your cheeks as a bubble of laughter erupts from you, though there’s something of a sob there too. Aaron curves an arm around you and pulls you against the planes of his body that you’re now all too familiar with. He says nothing and kisses your temple as you watch the butterfly disappear into the sky and you can’t help but entertain the thought that maybe there is a heaven and that maybe, just maybe, he was checking in to let you know everything is okay.

You wrap an arm around Aaron’s torso and hug him tightly. Jack scoops up the blanket and bunches it into his arms.

“Well Soon-to-be Mrs. Hotchner,” Aaron says, rubbing your arm. “Are you ready?”

You take one last look at his grave and the flowers you’ve left there for him.

“I’m ready,” you answer with finality. And when you say those words, you mean them. You’re not just ready to leave for the afternoon, you’re ready for this next chapter of your life to truly and fully begin. It doesn’t mean you’re leaving this part of your life behind, the grief will always be a part of you and you know you’ll miss him and feel his loss until the day you die. And you know that Aaron feels the same about Haley. They’re integral parts of both of your stories, and through the healing you found one another. It’s that that carries you through to each new day, to each tomorrow. You’ll spend the rest of your lives honoring their legacies through the work you do and through the love you share with one another and all of your loved ones.

And that’s an encouraging thought.

[doritochoi]

Ex-Husband Encounter | C.S

pairing: fem!reader x ex-husband!san

genre: smut

warning: public sex, unprotected sex, sexual tension, blowjob, hard fuck, eating cum? ( kinda idk)

word count: 3,7k

tags: @roguehongsami ( you can message me if you want to me tagged in my post!)

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you walk into his office and see the shocking scene before you. "S-san?" you manage to stutter, feeling a sharp pain shoot through your chest. Your husband, with whom you dreamed of spending the rest of your life in happiness, is sitting on a chair, and one of his employees is sitting on his lap, kissing him with a passion that takes your breath away. You are destroyed. You just wanted to be a good wife, bring him lunch like every day, and now you feel like everything is falling apart around you. Your lunch tray dropped on the floor, the plates are broken into a thousand pieces, the crumbs are scattered on the floor, but to you it is only a mute decoration in front of your pain. Inside, a storm of feelings floods your mind and soul - sadness, anger, helplessness. You can't take your eyes off them, the image that tears your heart to pieces. You feel betrayed, abandoned, and at the same time you are tormented by questions that hurt more than anything else. Why? How could you not see? You try to keep your composure, not to collapse in front of them, but you feel tears fill your eyes and your voice is choked with pain. You immediately walk out the door, heartbroken, getting into the car not caring if he calls you. You need distance, space, time to collect your thoughts and understand what you are going to do. You're too hurt to go back, too confused to listen to excuses or explanations. All you want now is to run away from the unbearable pain.

You arrived home sad and angry. Even if you didn't want to do that, you couldn't stay with San anymore. You wanted to wait for him to come home, to discuss, to solve what happened, but your mind stopped thinking. So you went to your shared bedroom. When you got there, you sat on the bed and started to cry, not knowing what to do. The tears flowed even more, making your eyes red and swollen. Looking up, you saw on a small table next to the bed a picture of you and San from the wedding. Looking at the photo, you felt memories begin to flood your mind. The moment was captured into your memory, and every detail came alive again in front of your eyes. You saw San's smile again, the tenderness in his gestures, and you went back in time, reliving the moments of happiness you spent together. The picture was one of your favorites, San holding you by your tiny waist, giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek. While you stared at the photo, a surge of rage and betrayal washed over you. In a fit of anger, you grabbed it and threw it to the ground, listening to the sound of it shattering into pieces. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the broken fragments, feeling a bitter satisfaction in the act. It was a release, a way to express the pain and anger consuming you. You packed your bags, not caring whether San would see all your belongings gathered when he came. You blocked him everywhere so he couldn't find you, and you left, tears streaming down your face as you looked back at the house where you two had shared happy moments.

It has been four years since that incident, and you haven't heard from San since. In truth, you hear about him almost every day, as he is now the richest man around with countless business ventures. He's everywhere, but you’ve tried to ignore everything that happened to avoid feeling lonely. Your best friend, Nayeon, has been a rock, helping you get through it all. She has always been by your side, and with her support, you have become a fairly popular model after a long period of healing and rebuilding your life. You’ve graced the covers of several fashion magazines, walked on runways in major fashion capitals like Paris and Milan, and built a strong social media presence. Your style is admired, your confidence radiates through every photoshoot, and your fanbase grows daily. Today was an important day. You were walking the runway in Sardinia, Italy for the Dolce & Gabbana fashion show. It was a beautiful, long-awaited dream come true. Nayeon was there beside you, helping you into your dress. It was a stunning black gown with a daring cutout at the back, accentuating your figure perfectly. The dress was exquisite, made of the finest silk that flowed gracefully with every movement. The cutout at the back revealed just enough skin to be alluring without being too revealing, perfectly balancing between chic and sensual. As Nayeon adjusted the final touches, she smiled at you, her eyes filled with pride and excitement. "You look breathtaking," she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration. You turned to look at her, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. "I couldn't have done any of this without you, Nayeon. Thank you for always being there.", she squeezed your hand gently. "That's what best friends are for. Now go out there and show them what you're made of."

As you stepped onto the runway, the lights blazed down, illuminating the room and the captivated audience. The black gown flowed elegantly with every step you took, the back cutout adding a touch of allure that drew gasps of admiration from the crowd. While you walked, a figure in the audience caught your eye. Instantly, the smile on your face vanished as you saw your ex-husband San in the crowd. He wore an exceptional white suit, making him easy to recognize, almost glowing amidst the sea of spectators. His hair was perfectly styled, and his piercing gaze, those fox-like eyes, made you freeze. He looked directly at you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. You tried to maintain your composure, reminding yourself to focus on the walk. Every step felt heavier, the weight of his presence pressing down on you. "Keep it together," you whispered to yourself. "Just a few more steps." San's gaze never wavered, his expression unreadable, and it took all your strength to pretend you hadn't noticed him. You felt a swirl of emotions—anger, hurt, confusion—threatening to break through your composed exterior. But this was your moment, and you were determined not to let his presence overshadow it.

Finally reaching the end of the runway, you posed, turning with practiced grace, and began your walk back. You kept your chin up, eyes forward, channeling every ounce of professionalism. Nayeon's encouraging smile flashed in your mind, giving you the final push you needed to finish the show with the same elegance and confidence with which you had started. Backstage, as the applause echoed from the runway, you took a deep breath, your heart still racing from the unexpected encounter. Nayeon rushed to your side, sensing something was off. "Are you okay?" she asked, concern etched in her features. "I... I saw San," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes widened in surprise. "What? Where?" "In the audience," you said, glancing back towards the runway. "He was watching me the whole time." You tried to discreetly wipe away your tears, not wanting everyone to see you cry. After a while, when everything had finally wrapped up, you and the team started preparing for the after-party to celebrate the successful show. Your mind wasn't fully present; you were acutely aware that San would be there. You all headed to the most luxurious and opulent restaurant nearby, a sight of pure elegance and sophistication. The exterior was adorned with intricate architecture, lit by soft, ambient lighting that gave it a warm, inviting glow. As you stepped inside, a gracious hostess greeted you, leading your group to a large, round table elegantly set for the occasion. The table was adorned with elegant place settings, sparkling crystal glasses, and a centerpiece of fresh flowers that added a touch of natural beauty to the luxurious setting. Despite the stunning surroundings, your thoughts remained clouded. You tried to engage in the celebration, but the anticipation of seeing San again kept you on edge. The laughter and conversations of your colleagues seemed distant, almost as if they were happening in another world. You noticed that right next to you was the only empty seat at the table, and your eyes were immediately drawn to a prominent name card that read "Choi San". Your heart skipped a beat, realizing the possibility of sitting right next to him. Taking a deep breath, a mix of anticipation washed over you. Was it mere coincidence or a subtle intention from the hosts? As you carefully placed your clutch on the seat, you felt the curious glances from other guests intensify, adding to the pressure of the moment. You took another deep breath, the air thick with anticipation, and when you opened your eyes, there it was—a hand you recognized instantly by its touch, its grip, adorned with rings that spoke of refinement. San had just settled into the seat next to you. He exuded an intoxicating scent, and as he leaned in slightly, you noticed the impeccable tailoring of his suit, revealing a hint of his well-toned chest underneath. "Apologies for being late," he murmured with a respectful nod, his smile bringing back every memory you had of him.

Throughout the dinner, tension built between you and San. You felt his gaze on you constantly, and every accidental touch sent a shiver down your spine. It became overwhelming, and you knew you needed a moment to collect yourself. "Excuse me," you said, standing abruptly. All eyes turned to you as you walked away from the table, your cheeks burning. You hurried to the bathroom, closing the door behind you and taking a deep breath. You splashed water on your face, trying to calm your racing heart. After a few moments, you felt composed enough to return to the table. Just as you opened the door, you walked straight into a solid chest. You looked up, knowing instantly who it was. San. You froze, your eyes meeting his stunning gaze. You wanted to move, to walk away, but his hand caught yours, pulling you back. "San, I need to go," you whispered, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he gently pushed you against the wall, his body close to yours, creating an electrifying closeness. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice low and filled with need. His eyes burned into yours, and you felt the tension between you. Your breath hitched as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. His hand moved to your waist, holding you firmly in place. You could feel the heat radiating from him, making your pulse quicken. Your gaze remains fixed downward, avoiding his mesmerizing eyes, But San cups your chin with his hand, gently lifting your face to meet his intense stare. "What do you want?" you ask, your voice trembling. His eyes burn into yours, filled with a mix of desire and determination. As you try to pull away, his grip tightens, holding you in place. "Stop struggling. I'm not letting you go," he says, his voice low and husky, filled with a dangerous edge that sends a shiver down your spine. "What do you want from me?" you ask, your voice a whisper, laden with both fear and excitement.

Without another word, San pushes you back into the bathroom, the door closing with a decisive click behind you. Your back hits the cool tile wall, the contrast with his heated body making you gasp. His hands are on you again, sliding down your arms, gripping your waist, pressing you firmly against the wall. "I want you," he growls, his voice rough with need. "Every inch of you." San's lips crash against yours with a hunger that takes your breath away. He kisses you fiercely, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roam your body. His touch is demanding, possessive, and it ignites a fire inside you that you've tried to suppress for so long. He moves his mouth to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin, leaving visible marks. His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your dress. "God, I've missed these," he growls, his voice thick with desire. You can feel his cock pressing against you, hard and insistent. He pulls the dress down, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His mouth descends, sucking on your nipple while his hand kneads the other, making you moan with pleasure. "San," you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as he devours you. "Don't stop." He bites down gently on your nipple, making you cry out. "I won't," he promises, his voice a low growl. He switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak before sucking it into his mouth. His free hand moves down, lifting your dress higher until it's bunched around your waist. He slips his fingers under your panties, finding you wet and ready for him. "Fuck, you're so wet for me," he groans, sliding a finger inside you and making you arch against him. "Please," you beg, needing more. San grins against your skin, adding another finger and thrusting them in and out of you. His thumb circles your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "You like that, baby?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Yes," you moan, your hips moving against his hand. "More, San, please." He withdraws his fingers, leaving you aching and desperate for him. He grabs your hips, lifting you up and pressing you against the wall. "I need to be inside you," he says, his voice rough with need.

You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling the tip of his cock at your entrance. He pushes inside you in one hard thrust, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, and you cry out, clutching at his shoulders as he begins to move. San fucks you with a desperate intensity, each thrust harder than the last. His hands grip your ass, pulling you closer as he drives into you. "God, you feel so good," he groans, his pace relentless. You can barely breathe, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. "San, I'm gonna—" , "Come for me," he demands, his voice harsh and urgent. The words push you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a force that leaves you trembling. San follows moments later, his release spilling inside you as he groans your name.

For a moment, the world stops, the only sound your ragged breaths mingling together. San lowers you back to the ground, his arms still wrapped around you as you both come down from the high. When he finally pulls away, his eyes are filled with a mixture of satisfaction and something deeper. "This isn't over," he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I meant what I said. I want you. Every inch of you." You nod, your heart still racing. "We'll see," you whisper, knowing that despite everything, a part of you wants him just as much. San’s eyes darken with a renewed hunger, and he gives you a wicked grin. “On your knees, now,” he commands, his voice low and authoritative. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine as you drop to your knees in front of him. His erection is right in front of your face, and you can see the desire in his eyes as he looks down at you. You wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, feeling its heat and hardness. You begin by kissing the tip, your tongue darting out to taste him. San inhales sharply, his hands tangling in your hair as you take him into your mouth. “Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, his grip tightening as you start to move. You take him deeper, your lips and tongue working in tandem to pleasure him. You hollow your cheeks, creating a suction that makes him curse under his breath. Your other hand moves to cup his balls, gently massaging them as you bob your head up and down his length. San’s breathing becomes ragged, his hips thrusting slightly as he struggles to control himself. “You’re so good at this,” he growls, his voice strained with pleasure. You look up at him through your lashes, meeting his intense gaze as you take him even deeper, pushing yourself to your limits. The sounds he makes, the way he tenses under your touch, spur you on. You increase your pace, taking him in as far as you can before pulling back and swirling your tongue around the head. “Just like that,” he moans, his eyes closing briefly as he loses himself in the sensation. You can feel him getting closer, his body tensing, his grip on your hair almost painful. With one last, deep thrust, he comes, his release filling your mouth. You swallow it all, not letting a drop escape, your eyes locked on his as he rides out his orgasm. When he finally opens his eyes, there’s a look of deep satisfaction mixed with something more. He pulls you up to your feet, kissing you hard, tasting himself on your lips. “Love, I missed you,” he whispers against your mouth, his hands still holding you close. You can’t deny the electric connection between you, the intense chemistry that still burns so bright. “I missed you too,”.

You both quickly dress, but as you look at your reflection in the mirror, you realize just how disheveled you are. Your hair is a mess, your clothes are wrinkled, and your makeup is smudged. San doesn't look much better; his suit is rumpled, and his hair is tousled in a way that screams what you've just done. As you step out of the bathroom, the hallway feels like it's a mile long. Just as you turn the corner, you run straight into Nayeon. Her eyes widen as she takes in your appearance, then flicks over to San. The realization dawns on her face, and she crosses her arms, looking between the two of you with an incredulous expression. “Really? Here? Now?” Nayeon exclaims, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief. You blush furiously, trying to smooth down your dress. “It just… happened,” you mumble, avoiding her piercing gaze. San, trying to regain his composure, clears his throat. “Nayeon, it’s not what it looks like,” he starts, but Nayeon cuts him off with a sharp look. “Oh, it’s exactly what it looks like,” she snaps, her eyes narrowing at San before turning back to you. “And you? After everything, you just let this happen?” You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her disappointment. “It’s complicated, Nayeon. We were just talking and then…” Nayeon throws her hands up in the air, clearly frustrated. “Talking? Really? Because it sure doesn’t look like you two were just talking.” San steps forward, his expression earnest. “Look, I know it looks bad, but this is between me and her. We need to figure this out ourselves.” Nayeon’s eyes soften slightly, but she still looks skeptical. “Fine. But you,” she points at you, “better think long and hard about what you’re doing. And you,” she turns to San, “don’t you dare hurt her again.” San nods solemnly. “I won’t,” he promises, his voice firm. Nayeon shakes her head, sighing deeply. “I hope not, for both your sakes.” She turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you standing there with San, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders. You know Nayeon is right; there are a lot of things to consider, and this isn’t something that can be resolved easily. San looks at you, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and determination. “We’ll figure this out,” he says softly. You nod, but inside, you’re not so sure. There’s a lot to unpack, a lot to discuss, and it’s going to take time. But for now, all you can do is take it one step at a time.

[uraveragelonelysapphic]

Home (1)

Part 2

Pairing: Rio Vidal x fem!Reader

Summary: She's fading away from you. Is the love you two share enough?

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: brief mentions of blood and injury, angst with a hopeful ending, it is sadder than I thought it would be I'm so sorry in advance

a/n: The birthday fic!!! Except it turned out to be a lot more sad than I intended...whoops! I'm promising a part 2, because I want to show a glimpse of the healing process with a lot more fluff. In the meantime, enjoy!

It’s fascinating how quickly a home can lose its warmth. How quickly two people can begin to grow apart.

A part of you craved what the two of you once had.

It hadn’t always been like this, after all. When things started between the two of you, she was gentle, considerate, attentive. She let you see a side of her that not many people got to see. They saw death. You saw Rio.

You saw how her eyes softened at the sight of you, how her eyebrows furrowed as she concentrated on cooking dinner for you, how she tilted her head as she admired how you looked beneath her.

But recently, you saw a different side of her. You saw how her body tensed as she hunched over her desk, looking over things for a work assignment. You saw how her previous warmth towards you was slowly turning cold. You saw how she was fading away from you.

You had been patient, trying to ease her tension with gentle touches and warm gestures, and she had seemed to soften briefly at this at first, but now it seemed that nothing you did could bring her closer to you.

Of course you knew who it tied back to. You had seen the pin board flooded with red string and sightings of Agatha. You knew it all came back to her. They had been lovers for such a long time, you knew you couldn’t measure up to that if you tried.

But you had to try. You had to.

So, after a full day of gathering up the courage, you approached her in the kitchen, fully intending to tell her how you were hurting, how she was fading and you wanted nothing more than to reel her back in, to hold her close to you again.

But as you approached, you saw her preparing a bag. She turned at the sound of your footsteps, a tight smile on her lips.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” she began, and those words were enough to make your heart flutter with hope.

“I’m going away for a few days. It’s work stuff and it’s really, really important. I’ll be back as soon as I can, yeah?” She said, and your heart dropped. You wondered if she knew what she would be missing if she left for days on end.

You plastered a smile on your face. You hoped it would convince her. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you soon,” you said quietly.

You could’ve sworn you saw a flash of regret on her face, and before you knew it, she had pulled you close to her for the first time in weeks, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other caressing the back of your head.

You were confused by the sudden act of affection, but couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, instead gripping her by her shirt, desperately trying to pull her closer.

She kissed your temple before pulling away almost reluctantly.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said, a softness briefly returning to her eyes before they hardened again as she stepped back, grabbing her things and exiting the cottage.

You were left standing alone in what used to feel like a home, holding onto the feeling of her arms around you, her lips on your temple, as you willed yourself to be strong.

Maybe she’d be back in time. Maybe your Rio was in there, after all. Somewhere.

Empty sheets. That’s what you were met with when you opened your eyes. You couldn’t help but sigh, bitter disappointment causing your stomach to drop. You scolded yourself internally for getting your hopes up when she had made a habit of letting you down recently.

You had just wanted today to be different.

You pondered if you should let yourself sleep the day away. Rot in bed, hoping to miss out on the day in its entirety. 

But, if there was one thing you had learned, it was that you were more than the people you surrounded yourself with. You loved Rio. You loved her so much it made your heart ache, but you loved yourself more. You had to.

So you got up. You got up and you got dressed. You put on a beautiful pink sundress, one that made you feel beautiful. You forced a smile at the sight of yourself in the mirror. You pushed the pang of disappointment away as you braided your hair, adding a flower crown you had made to the top of your head as a final touch.

Tears rolled down your face as you smoothed your dress. Of course you were sad. You missed your love. But you brushed them away, your smile returning, half forced, half authentic. You deserved a good day. Today was your day. And you’d be damned if you didn’t give yourself the love you’d been deprived of in the last few weeks.

Joy filled you as you put on your favorite playlist, humming to yourself as you made pancakes to start your day.

You let that joy continue to fill the cottage as you decided to clean up a bit. You and Rio had let things get out of hand, the cluttered stage of the cabin almost directly reflecting the state of your relationship.

You took your time cleaning up, allowing it to take up most of the day, the task providing you with a distraction from any negative thoughts threatening to enter your mind.

Until you came face to face with the pin board again. Your content smile faltered at the sight, negativity creeping into your soul slowly and thickly as you continued to stare at the pictures of Agatha.

Joy quickly became anger as your hands tore at the board before you could help yourself. You ripped pictures off as you frowned deeply, not noticing as the pins scratched as your skin as you clawed at the board. Your hands bled as you screamed; pent up emotions finally coming out uncontrollably.

Your anger faded out as you sat on the floor of the office, looking down at your bleeding hands. They stained your dress, causing you to laugh humorlessly. Tears filled your eyes as screams became sobs.

You felt like nothing. Your day was almost over and you felt like nothing.

You continued to sit, just staring. You didn’t have much fight left in you. You knew Rio was in there, but you didn’t know where, and you didn’t know if she would ever come back to you.

Hours passed before movement passed through the cottage. The door opened, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to react.

“Babe?” Her voice rang through the house. It was uneasy; concerned.

You heard her as she slowly approached the office, checking each room for you before she found you.

Her eyes soften at the sight of you. She’s kneeling in front of you before you can say a word, touching you gently as she inspects your hands, kissing them with a softness you hadn’t experienced from her in far too long.

“Mi vida,” she whispered brokenly.

“It was my birthday,” you croaked, your voice raw from the emotion you had experienced just hours prior.

You finally met her eyes, watching as her heart seemed to break right in front of you, her face crumpling as sobs began to erupt from her throat.

You allowed her to pull you close, your bodies becoming one as you entangled yourselves in each other, tears blending together as you gripped to each other with a desperation like no other. 

“I’m sorry,” repeating like a mantra from her lips as she kissed whatever skin was available to her.

You nodded, shushing her as the two of you sat there, crying, holding, healing.

And in a home that had grown cold, the warmth began to creep back in.

Because she was back. Your Rio was back.

[zukosdualdao]

so, this post was originally born from a post i saw a couple of months ago that was deriding people for criticizing katara’s main role in lok being a healer when that was never all she wanted to do but liking the scene where she heals zuko in sozin's comet. at the time i thought about responding directly and decided against it, but i have since scanned through transcripts of every instance (i could find; it's possible i could be missing something) of katara healing someone in the show and how they respond. (you know, like a normal and well-adjusted individual. lmao.)

anyway, aside from katara explicitly stating that she doesn’t only want to be a healer, another aspect of why people don’t like that this is how her story goes in lok is because of the way healing is treated in the atla narrative.

Katara: Aang, you're burned! Let me help you. [Katara heals the burn on Aang's arm.] Aang: Wow, that's good water. Sokka: When did you learn that? Katara: I guess I always knew. Sokka: [Sarcastically.] Oh ... Well then thanks for all the first aid over the years. Like when I fell into the greaseberry bramble. [Angrily.] Or that time I had two fishhooks in my thumb!

this comes, of course, after aang accidentally burns katara and she learns she can heal through her waterbending by healing her own hands. then (after comforting aang despite being the one who got hurt, not that i'm bitter), she heals aang after he gets burned in his fight with zhao. and like... there's not so much as a cursory thanks in this scene.

to be clear, because i can already hear some responses in my head and i am making a preemptive strike: i'm not saying that when other characters don't thank katara for her healing, they're like, the worst people ever for not doing so or there aren't other ways at different times where they show their appreciation. what i am saying is that it feels like this sets up a long pattern of katara's healing specifically being taken for granted, and it makes me especially uncomfortable when i see her healing as a sort of metaphorical parallel to the emotional labor often expected of her in the show, especially because this and being The Avatar's Girlfriend/Wife is more or less what she's relegated to in post-canon.

also, i have to note sokka's line here. i don't want to come down on him too hard for this, because it's obviously being written humorously (and does genuinely make me laugh, for what it's worth, if just for the inherent ridiculous nature of two fishhooks), but his sarcastically saying thanks for all the help over the years when katara says she always knew (which is supposed to be her saying it just somehow instinctively came to her) does feel like another mark in this pattern. but i also really read this as sokka trying to lighten the mood after a Difficult (TM) day, so i cut both him and the writers some slack for it.

Meanwhile, back at the Outer Wall, Katara attempts to heal a member of the Terra Team. General Sung: What's wrong with him? He doesn't look injured. Katara: His chi is blocked. [Stops healing.] Who did this to you?

i find it interesting that katara has sort of naturally fallen into a token team healer role, to the degree that we don't even see them ask for her help or her agree to it; it's just automatically assumed that she will. and i mean, on the one hand, it's fairly standard to have an Assumed Healer in a fantasy action setting like this, where people will get hurt in combat and therefore the narrative needs someone whose job is to help them. the problem for me is that the show kicked up such a fuss about how women shouldn't just be allowed to be healers, and yet it's still the role no one but katara ever fills. aang is also a waterbender! why couldn't she have taught him healing, too? i genuinely think it would have added a lot to the story, but katara is The Girl (TM), so healing is what she (and only she) does, what's expected of her, and again, with very rare thanks for it.

Katara stares open-mouthed at Jet, her hands hovering near her mouth in shock. Snapping out of it, she withdraws water from her water skin, with which she covers her hands, and it begins to glow as she kneels down next to him. Cut to a shot from over her shoulder, with Jet glancing at her while she rubs her hands over his chest in an attempt to heal him. After rubbing his chest three times, the glow fades, the water stains Jet's clothing, and Katara looks back over her shoulder toward the rest of the group. Katara: This isn't good. Smellerbee: You guys go and find Appa. We'll take care of Jet. Katara: We're not going to leave you. Longshot: There's no time. Just go. We'll take care of him. He's our leader. They stare at Longshot in surprise. Jet: Don't worry, Katara. I'll be fine. [Smiles a little.]

Cut to a closer shot of Katara placing Aang's body on Appa. Katara opens the vial around her neck and uses water healing on Aang's wounded back. The rest of Team Avatar, Kuei, and Bosco all look sadly and in anticipation. The glowing from the spirit water stops, and Katara starts crying, assuming that it was not enough to save Aang. Aang's tattoos glow for a second and Aang groans. Katara, overcome with joy that Aang is alive, looks at him, who smiles a little, and she holds him closer.

writing about these together because i have less to say about them. i'm definitely not going to fault jet for not thanking katara when she tries to heal him as he literally lay dying, or aang for not having the mind to do so after she brings him back. but i am still going to fault the narrative for putting her in a position where healing is just inherently expected from her and yet very rarely allowing her to feel the emotional toll of that or to feel constricted by it. and when she does struggle against the weight of it (not necessarily of being a healer, but of being expected to be kind and good and uncomplicated with no room for other aspects of her identity, which are very tangled up in why she is The Healer) in episodes like the runaway or in the southern raiders, she just... does not receive a lot of support from the people she should be most able to rely on.

Katara: Maybe we should go upstairs. [Helping Aang up.] You need a healing session. Back in Aang's room on the ship. Katara bends some water onto the scar left by Azula's lightning attack. Katara: Tell me where the pain feels most intense. Aang: Mmm, a little higher. Uhhh! Aang briefly flashes back to the battle at Old Ba Sing Se where he rose into the Avatar State, then back to reality. Aang: Wow, you're definitely in the right area there.

not much to say here, it's just another instance where it would have been so easy to slip one thank you in, and the writers just... do not. the reason i think it bothers me so much with aang specifically is because katara is supposed to be both aang's physical healer and his emotional crutch in a way that she's not written as being for, say, toph or sokka. he's sometimes shown appreciation for her emotional support, but he still comes to rely on and expect it in ways that do not always feel healthy, and knowing that, it bothers me that he shows even less appreciation for her healing, because it's just what katara is there for.

A figure resembling the Painted Lady glides over the water on a carpet of fog and enters the village. She steps into a hut where several people are sleeping on the floor, and bends over each of them in turn, healing them with a blue glow. Her last patient is the mother of the little boy seen earlier, her son sleeping at her side. He wakes as the Painted Lady turns to go and silently follows her out the door. Little boy: Thank you, Painted Lady.

this is a genuinely sweet scene in which katara does receive appreciation and genuine thanks for her healing, but i think it's also worth noting that katara is not being recognized as herself here. still, i am genuinely very glad that it's included in the episode because (again, unless i am missing something) it is the first time katara gets thanked for her healing.

The scene cuts to show Appa landing on the edge of the battlefield. Sokka and Katara help Hakoda onto the ground, and Katara starts trying to heal him. Katara: How does that feel, Dad? Hakoda: Ah, a little, better. I need, to get back to the troops. [Attempts to stand but is too weak to.] Ahh! Katara: You're hurt, badly. You can't fight anymore. Hakoda: Everyone's counting on me to lead this mission Katara, I won't let them down. [Attempts to stand again but can't.] Ahh! Sokka: Can't you heal him any faster?

they're in a high intensity situation, and sokka is Stressed because hakoda is supposed to lead the mission, so i, like, Get It, but "can't you heal him any faster?" does strike me as another moment in which katara's healing is being taken for granted. i think it's something that would bother me a lot less if this was an isolated incident in the writing, but *gestures vaguely at whole post*.

Sokka: [Brightening.] Dad! [Rising and approaching the two.] You're on your feet again. Hakoda: [Sitting down; somewhat weakly.] Thanks to your sister.

that being said, in the next hakoda and katara scene, there is this very sweet moment, where hakoda might not be thanking katara directly but is showing a lot of appreciation and admiration for her skill in healing (and though she's not in the dialogue i included, she's around to hear it, which makes me happy.)

Katara: It's gonna take a while for your feet to get better. [Stops healing.] I wish I could have worked on them sooner. Toph: Yeah, me too.

once again, i'm not gonna fault toph for wishing katara could have healed her feet sooner, because she's been in pain all night, but the writers could have very easily (as they could have in any of these scenes!) chosen to include a perfunctory 'thanks' here, and they just didn't. i know this is getting repetitive, but i swear it's because it's largely more me being mad at the writers than the characters, lmao.

there are also a couple of scenes in which katara doesn't heal anyone, but her healing gets brought up by aang.

Aang: He doesn't look sick. You okay, buddy? [Appa groans and Aang pulls out Appa's purple tongue.] His tongue is purple! That can't be good. Katara, can you heal him?

to be fair, aang asks here, and it's not like aang gets defensive or angry when katara says appa needs medicine (and also to be fair, appa's not even actually sick, lmao, katara's being slightly trickstery), but it's another instance where katara is automatically positioned as the person who is and should be responsible for healing.

Aang: [Chuckles.] Well, not over over. I mean there's always Katara and a little Spirit Water action, [Turns to Katara.] am I right? Katara: Actually, I used it all up after Azula shot you. Aang: [Disappointed.] Oh.

i actually don't mind this so much as a writing moment, as i think it's a lot more intentional wrt aang not always conceptualizing the reality of the violence he’s facing. still, it’s another instance of katara’s ability to heal and care for him being taken for granted, and i find it especially notable it’s in of the last significant moments they share together (the other being an argument as katara urges him not to run away from the reality of their situation with ozai) before they spend the rest of the finale separate until they’re kissing without a word at the end.

and then there is the zutara healing scene, where katara heals zuko after he interferes and takes azula’s lightning to the chest when she’s aiming for katara.

Cut to Katara as she rolls Zuko on to his back and begins healing him. Zuko opens his eyes, feeling the pain lessen, and smiles weakly at Katara, who smiles back as she sheds a tear.

Zuko: Thank you, Katara.

Katara: I think I'm the one who should be thanking you.

it seems fair to me to say that one of the reasons the motifs of healing in the zutara are dynamic are so appreciated by their fans is because of how it contrasts to a lot of moments where the work katara does with her healing is under-appreciated. for one thing, it happens as part of a mutual exchange—katara heals zuko after he gets hurt saving her. (this also somewhat calls back to their scenes together in the crystal caves in the tcod, where she offers to heal his scar after they are trapped together and zuko extends her empathy.) it’s based in reciprocity. it’s also, as shown here, one of the few moments of explicit, heartfelt appreciation and thanks given for katara’s healing.

[killlavendr]

Updated teen Sev headcanons!! (Minor mental health issues TW idk??)

- He is 75% Chinese and around 8% British and 8% Irish. Tobias is half Chinese half white/British, and Eileen is Chinese and was born in Ireland. Severus was born and raised in the UK tho. He has a very very subtle Irish accent along with his British one, but it grows weaker over time

- he isn’t insomniac but does find it hard to sleep sometimes - also just had a tendency to stay up late reading or doing homework or experimenting with potions and spells

- hair gets greasy quickly after washing it, he finds it really annoying. He showers regularly at school but because of his naturally greasy hair and oily skin, and yellow teeth due to childhood neglect and depression he’s teased for being unhygienic

- after his fallout with Lily he had this whole self loathing period along with worsened depression that caused him to be tired all the time and to withdraw farther socially. He’s hostile towards people he associates with people he doesn’t like even if he barely knows them, and is generally really bitter and sad

- Also I headcanon he got takotsubo cardiomyopathy during this time, and it took a long time to heal afterwards. Genuinely extraordinarily suicidal from like 13-the day he dies. Tested out sectumsempra on himself in the process of making it, and has a tendency to dig his nails into his skin hard when embarrassed. This man is MISERABLE 😁!!! Bro CANNOT catch a break

- He has light acne

- during around mid year 6 he genuinely stops caring about what he looks like and gives up being insecure over things he can’t change

- He’s pretty scrawny and weak lol

- I hc him to be pretty tall, looking like a long lanky snake. Like around 5’10

- Demisexual and Demiromantic but as an adult gives up on romance and doesn’t really desire it or care about it

- As he got older, around 15-16 he stops being physically abused by Tobias for the most part but the verbal abuse doubles down. MAJOR L

- spends as little time in the house as possible, feels guilty about leaving Eileen alone with Tobias

- platonic or romantic it doesn’t matter, Lily is Sev’s favorite person and after ruining things with her he is in like a limbo state for like a week😭

- bites his nails - he stops doing it at 24

- two toned, brownish lips. He has a strong jaw and long face

Yeah that’s all tho yay

[drewstarkeyluvbot]

Haunt me

Rafe Cameron x ex-best friend pogue! reader

Summary : After your encounter with Rafe , you wished never to face him again. Nevertheless, fate fathoms different plans and in a time where old wounds have been ripped open and blood is rapidly spilling out , four hands are going to get messy.

warnings: angst, cursing , jealousy

word count: 3.2k

part one , part three

~

There is no deeper pain than the one stemming from an old love that transformed into a bitter stranger.

Because you know it. You know it now, you knew it then - god - you've known it since you were a toddler. You know you were in love with Rafe Cameron.

Perhaps that's why the pain caused by his absence was so deep, so profound that it reached into the crevices of your very soul and settled there . It was always there , you were aware of it, but you constructed defence mechanisms and put up walls in order to shield it from the outside world,in order to forget it and keep it buried deep within your soul.

Your efforts were destroyed in a matter of seconds , a few words falling from his lips were stupidly enough . It was awoken, dragged back to the surface no matter how hard you tried to conceal it. He made you vulnerable - again - and you despise him even more for it.

Because he doesn't care.

But you do , you care. You always did, even during the days that Rafe wasn't quite Rafe. He has always been short tempered,always had aggressive tendencies. The man that was supposed to distance him from such behaviour ; who should have been the light guiding him through the dark , was the very cause of his peculiar behaviour.

You never quite liked Ward Cameron. Even before Rafe opened his heart to you,you noticed small -yet malicious- traits in his behaviour. You noticed the way he talked to - the way he scolded - Rafe, you noticed the way rafe's back would straighten the moment his father entered a room. It was almost as if a switch had been turned on , and he would attempt to take up the role of the perfect son. You noticed the way his father treated his sister, the way his eyes lit up every time he saw her. Sarah Cameron was his little princess, and Rafe Cameron was the neglected son that yearned for a validation he would never receive.

You were fourteen when you truly realized what a horrible person Ward Cameron was ; It was the first time Rafe cried in your arms . You were so confused - so young - yet embraced him with so much love and warmth that his father's insults and cruel words about pretend masculinity were nothing but a vacant thought. At least until it happened again. But then, you'd do it again,and again, and again.

You were his medicine,in a way. Patching up his wounds and healing his broken soul with your mere presence. You were so full of love,and you gave it all to him. You'd wipe his tears and caress his face until your eyes would sting and your fucking fingers would feel numb, because who cares about momentary torture if it meant seeing him smile again?

But that's all in the past now.

Leave the past in the past, y/n.

Leave the past in the past,y/n.

Leave the past in the past,y/n.

That's exactly what you're weakly attempting to achieve at this moment, before you've realized you got lost in your irrational thoughts once again,the ones that you've tried to desperately avoid. Your head is feeling slightly dizzy,and you can practically feel the blood pumping inside your veins as you grip the glass of the unknown drink you're holding. You're at a random house party, one that the pogues had unwillingly dragged you to, claiming you've been out of it the whole week. Of course you hadn't told them about your recent encounter, you don't need to have more people reminding you of how much fucking power he still has over you, your own repetitive words are enough.

Your eyes shift towards your group of friends, bodies splayed out on the rather uncomfortable couch as giggles and contented sounds fall from their lips. You smile, eyes falling on the drink in your hand and studying the nasty liquid. You weren't really the drinker ; well, at least not to the point of throwing up in another person's toilet and confessing your undying love to said person. But everyone is different, right?

You picked up the habit of staying mostly sober when Rafe first discovered alcohol , and you weirdly felt that taking care of him was your own liability. It kind of stuck on you since then , both the staying sober and taking care of others. He somewhat ruined you, didn't he? How silly.

He's here ;  you noticed him the moment you stepped inside the ridiculously posh house. He's resting against the wall lazily, drink in his hand as his group of friends surrounds him. The same group of friends he discarded you for. He fits into the crowd seamlessly, he blends in. You suppose he never did that with you.

They're not good people, you know that, Rafe knows that. But, perhaps your definitions of good don't quite line up anymore. How silly.

You feel a fluffy mess falling against your exposed thighs, and you move your drink that's hiding the view. You slightly scrunch your nose, narrowing your eyes as your mouth quirks up at the sight of your drunk friend.

JJ Maybank is sunshine presented in human form.

"Why are you so quiet, sunshine?" He slurs in a funny tone, making your soft smile widen into a bright grin. You shake your head, lightly ruffling his blond locks. "Just tired, Jayj."

He groans quietly at your response, scrunching his face like a petulant little toddler. "S' a party! You should be partying and drinking and dancing and singing!"

A loud laugh immediately falls from your lips as you stare down at him fondly, "you're quite literally seconds away from falling asleep on my lap. "  You reply teasingly.

JJ grumbles at your response, reaching up in a weak attempt to flick your forehead but ending up flicking your eyebrow instead. "That's because I've already partied , little brat! S' the aftermath!"

You smile softly at his reply, shaking your head in pure amusement as you let him rest his head on your lap. You lay back on the couch, lifting your gaze and letting your eyes wander about. You know that they're not just wandering about.

Your eyes fall to his lips first, instictevely. You notice the way they're stretched into an obnoxiously cocky simper. You notice his arms after,the way the bicep bulges and contracts as it's tightly secured around her waist. You notice his chest, the way her hand presses against the firm muscle as she smiles up at him with a look that can only mean so much. You notice the way their bodies are plastered together, almost forming into one as he leans down to whisper into her ear.

You notice icy blue eyes shifting to yours from across the room before his hand wraps around her wrist, dragging her away to a place where bodies meet and words don't matter.

~

It's a bit blurry after that, you make up a stupid excuse about having a rapid headache that your friends certainly do not buy, but cannot interfere. You can't even pinpoint how you ended up sprawled on your cushioned bed , images of your car speeding away like a bat out of hell. You're calmer now, tranquility and peace settling inside your apprehensive mind.

Why did you feel that way?.  Why did you feel that peculiar tightening sensation in your chest the moment he dragged her upstairs? Why did he meet your eyes? Why - for god's sake - do you care so damn much?

You need to stop being desperate for an alternative ending to a story that had a miserable one.

Excruciatingly slow hours have passed before you actually manage to drift off to sleep, your face squished against your soft pillow. When you drift awake,you expecte the warm, orange rays of the sun to be peaking through your blinds and cascading over your face. instead , you're met with the soft glow of the moon and a weird groaning sound stemming from the outside.

When you process the noise, you so desperately want to excuse it for being a wild animal,and fall back into the slumber you were in. You can't, not when the groaning ensues, not when it's certainly the sound of a person.

You tentatively lift the warm covers from your body, your feet meeting the wooden floor. You're currently the only person present in your house,the probability of meeting some ill-intentioned person behind the door quite high. Nonetheless,your instincts take over and your hand gently grips the door handle.

The sound of the door creaking tunes out  the rapid acceleration of your heartbeat,the feeling traveling to your ears ; ringing , and ringing and ringing.

It has been two years since the last time Rafe Cameron found himself drunkenly sprawled on your front porch. Today, that changes.

Your heart feels like it's desperately trying to claw out of your fucking throat as you stare at his worn-out form, face first into your wooden , antiquated floor. Soft groans are still falling from his lips , body still and frozen. Just like yours.

"Rafe," it's spoken in a gentle whisper that most definitely does not reach his ears. "Rafe." You repeat a tad louder, still not enough to drown out his throaty groans. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you slowly crouch down.

A hand carefully places itself on his back, feeling it slightly move under the touch. The groaning stops. "Rafe." , your voice is loud and clear now ,anxiety bubbling in your chest as you desperately anticipate some form of a reaction.

His head slightly shifts to the side, curtain bangs messy and sweaty as they cling to his forehead , but not enough to shield his pained and glassy eyes. He's quiet for a moment, seemingly filtering my presence. "You're here." The side of his mouth ever so slightly quirks up.

A soft sigh falls from your lips, hand still pressed into his back as you gaze into his eyes.  "How did you get here, Rafe?" You whisper, quietly and hesitantly. Rafe flashes you a toothy smile, gaze lost and hazy. "You're here." He slurs again .

You stare at him, filtering the state he's in. You're slowly dragged back into your past, to those nights you would take care of him. To the night you took care of him and he confessed his feelings.

Rationally, you should go back inside. It is certainly not your fault that Rafe Cameron got piss drunk once again and somehow found his way to your house, as if being lead by the force of habit. You should leave him out here, in the darkness of the night , and let fate deal with his poor misery. You should , but you won't.

"Come on." You whisper softly , grabbing his arm gently and attempting to lift him off the ground. Your strength is evidently not adequate, and Rafe groans deeply as he complies in an trial to assist you in helping him up. He grits his teeth together, legs wobbly as he wraps an arm around your shoulders tightly. You grip his waist tightly and push the door open with your free hand , leading his large frame towards your living room couch.

You carefully place him on it, cradling his head to ensure he doesn't plop it carelessly and sliding a cushion behind it. You can hear him letting out a soft hum as you help him settle in. His eyes burn into you. You do not look into them.

"I'll go grab you a wet cloth and some water,hm?" You don't genuinely expect an answer, simply angling your body around before a strong hand wraps around your bicep. Strong hand, but a gentle grip.  "Don't leave."

Your heart plummets in your stomach at his broken tone, your teeth digging into your lip anxiously. You don't turn to look at him,not wanting the pain in your chest to intensify. "I'll be back,I promise." Your whisper is soft as your hand gradually slips away from his hold, your body moving towards the kitchen before he can mutter another unexpected response.

Your eyes train on the way the freezing tap water drowns the cloth you picked up,in an attempt to prevent yourself from drowning in your own fucking thoughts. You hastily fill up a glass, your hands slightly shaky. You walk back to the living room,back to him.

He's staring up at the ceiling, seemingly out of it and possibly seconds away from falling asleep. Maybe you should have let him, maybe you should stop caring as much as you do. You place the glass on the small table before hesitantly sitting on the edge of the sofa , looking down at him.

His glassy eyes meet yours, and you let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, Rafe" , you speak in a muted tone as you grab the soaked cloth and place it on his forehead. You dap at the sweat that has accumulated there, while simultaneously offering him a sense of refreshment and alleviating the rapid throbbing inside of it.

His enchantingly blue eyes bore into yours as you take care of him, lips slightly parted. "You dating that pogue,hm?" He finally speaks again, voice scratchy and croaky. Your eyebrows immediately furrow, trying to filter his words. That pogue?

You remember the blond mess of unruly hair on your lap, and you let out a small sigh as you keep running the cloth over his face. "JJ?" you speak ,he does not answer. You sigh again. "No, I'm not dating him, Rafe."

He looks at you,not replying before he shifts his eyes. He nuzzles into your hand that's dapping his face,and you're so thankful you didn't drink much alcohol because you're certain you would have emptied your stomach right there.

You pull the cloth away after a while, grabbing the glass of water that was resting on the table. "Sit up." You tell him, receiving a whine in response. You let out a soft sigh, before cradling the back of his neck gently . "Come on, you need to stay hydrated."

Your soft touch turned on a switch, because he slowly moves his body right up. You hand him the glass, your fingers lightly grazing against the other. You pull away first. You discreetly watch his Adam's apple bopping as he downs the glass, silence prevailing.

You grab the glass when he's finished, placing it on the table. "Do you want more?" , you whisper softly. He merely stares at you, and you so desperately want to reach into the depths of his soul and untangle the mess he has become.

"You care." He whispers, "You still care."

It's as if he's repeating the words that have been circulating your mind for the last week repeatedly, like a vinyl on an old record player. You still care. You hope he doesn't ask for a reasoning, because you can not supply him with one.

"Lay back down." You instruct softly, lightly pushing at his chest as you grab the mostly wet cloth . He obeys wordlessly , and you begin dapping his face again. Why does this feel so intimate?

"I don't know why I came here." He whispers again after moments of empty silence. You momentarily halt your movements, before ensuing . "It's okay, Rafe." You can't help but reassure him, why?

He lets out a soft sound, "Y/n" , the sound of tour name delicately falling from his lips makes your heart stop. "Y/n , you're so lovely." He slurs on a pained whisper.  "Why are you so lovely? This would have been so - so much easier if you - you -" He hiccups before he can finish his sentence.

You genuinely cannot deal with this right now, your fingers tightening around the stupid cloth. It's just the alcohol, he's done this before, do not react, do not give in.

Do not believe his words.

"Why did you drink so much, Rafe?" You ask instead, your tone gentle and quiet. You listen to his breathing pattern for a moment, before lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. He smiles weakly, eyes narrowed and hazy. "So you'd take care of me."

He doesn't know what he's saying.

Leave the past in the past, y/n.

You shake your head at his words, not replying. You finally pull the cloth away , before slowly getting up. A hand instantly circles your wrist, meeting painfully pleading eyes.

"I'll be back." You whisper gently, pulling your hand away as you scurry towards your bedroom. Your head is nothing but a fucking tangled mess, his words making your ears hurt and your heart bleed even more than it previously was. You grab a fluffy pillow and a small blanket before heading back towards the living room.

He's staring at the ceiling again ,and you hover above him. You slowly kneel down, softly cradling the back of his neck and lifting his head, replacing the rather confining cushion with your comfortable one. You get up, before covering his large frame with your warm blanket.

He hums contently, and you've reached the point of utter bewilderment and hopelessness. You don't know what to do , where to go. You need to stay away from him, lock yourself in your name and scream into your pillow until your fucking ears ring and the sounds of roosters prevails over your own broken voice.

A hand slowly reaches up to wrap around your wrist again, your breath hitches at the touch. "Hair." He mumbles incoherently, your eyebrows scrunching up in question.  A soft groan leaves his lips as he stares up at you in anticipation, "Play with my hair."

His reply sinks in, and you instantly shake your head , "Go to sleep, Rafe." You whisper rather coldly, watching as his Adam's apple bops on a gulp.  You hate the way your chest tightens.

"You always did that." He adds quietly, his expression pained. "Do you remember?"

You wish you could forget. Frankly enough,you wish that the fateful night of the thunderstorm , the rain would have started pouring a little harder , or the thunder would have sounded a little louder, or the lightening would have shone a little brighter ; if so , you would have stopped a little fucking earlier and would knock on the door of a random, obnoxious kook that would have cursed you out but you would have pridefully accepted it because at least they wouldn't know how you sounded when you screamed and begged for someone to love you.

You wish you were someone else, someone that doesn't know who Rafe Cameron used to be. Someone that isn't still fucking haunted by the Idea of him.

At your lack of response , Rafe decided to speak up again. "I wish I could go back to the start." he whispers weakly, voice slightly breaking out. "Before I messed it all up."

His eyes shimmer in the darkness of the room,and you wish you would die.

You begin feeling your eyes stinging, but you don't find the power within yourself to control yourself. Your hearts are bleeding, and you're both drowning in your own blood.

"That's the beauty of mistakes, isn't it?"  you whisper, "they're irreversible."

You walk away again.

~

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10. - Chapter 11. - Chapter 12

Chapter 13. - Chapter 14. - Chapter 15

Chapter 16. - Chapter 17. - Chapter 18

Word Count: 1786

Chapter 18:

After you healed the boy, you all helped put him down on some leaves and let him rest; waiting until he would wake up to check up on him once again.

There was no hurry to move to the next trial, and after the tiring trial, you all finished, rest, and a break sounded good.

While the witches settled down and started to gather ingredients for a fire, you chose to go find Agatha; who had not let the boy's side, showing everyone a far more sensitive side they did not have her for.

Except for you. You knew she had it in her, simply hiding beneath sarcasm and the fake persona of an evil person; a defence mechanism to protect her already wounded self from further harm.

Your steps made faint noise against the wet ground and dead leaves, drawing her attention from the sleeping teenager.

"Hey," you greeted softly, as if approaching a baby deer.

"Hey, sugar" she greeted, doing her best to hide her worry but you easily saw right through it.

"He will be fine, you know" you said as you sat next to her, shoulders touching against one another. "My magic is not that weak"

Agatha offered a weak smile. "I know it's not. It never was, " she commented and glanced at the sleeping boy. "Thank you again. I know you don't like taking such risks"

You gently nudged your shoulder with hers, earning her attention. "Well, someone once told me; there is no fun in life if I don't take any risks"

She could not help but crack an amused smile, remembering the many times she had told you those exact words.

She took a good look at you at the same time, remembering the young girl she had taken under her wings all those years ago.

Back then, you were more innocent and shy; often hesitating to show your magic or use it, afraid you would be judged or make a mistake.

It took a lot of effort from Agatha and patience to make you trust her enough and listen to her. Then, you truly had your fun with your shenanigans, your crazy plans, and ideas.

Of course, you also got into plenty of trouble, but Agatha never let you feel guilty about what happened.

You did not speak anything else for a few minutes, enjoying the silence and the fact that you were next to each other. Agatha, even, leaned andrm rested her head against your shoulder; your presence always having this supernatural energy that calmed her down.

Sometimes it was what she needed, when her own mind was torturing her with thoughts and scenarios. Sometimes, it was what she craved when she needed to stop for a moment and breathe; think carefully of what she wished to do next.

And sometimes... it was what she feared. Being so quick to let go of her defences and open up to you, being so willing to lay in your arms and sleep; without worrying, you might harm her while she rests.

She feared feeling vulnerable and attaching to you, for you might as well turn and betray her one day or perish and leave her with another crack on her already wounded heart.

As if feeling the turmoil of emotions within her, you dared to spread your hand and hold hers; fingers interlocking into a secure grip. Your thumb gently caressed her skin, and you noticed the soft smile that formed on her face.

However, despite that sweet moment between the two of you; you had to speak up, and you had to take the step.

"Ags" you started gently, earning a faint humming response from her. "This boy... who is he? The sigil is not your design"

Agatha took a moment to answer, clearly debating everything in her head. "I... I don't know, honestly. I just feel like I know him"

You frowned faintly. "You think he might be Little Nicky?"

The nickname left a bitter after taste in your mouth, being so long since you had called her son that way.

It was a nickname you had come up with when you first met, and you had used it a few times for the time Agatha and him spent time with you. Then, out of the blue, Agatha had to leave and took the boy with her.

You had declined the offer to join, thinking it was not a good idea. Now, you regretted it.

You had no idea what happened to the boy, but you felt that had you been present, had you joined back then... that boy might still be alive.

Agatha pulled her head from you, an instinctive reaction to block any affection when she felt a wound reopening. However, she kept her hand locked into yours; offering the faintest of hope.

"I... I don't know, " She confessed, leaving a heavy sigh. "I mean... he could be, right?"

Considering she never told you what happened to him, you were not exactly the best person to answer that question. But you could see that Agatha needed closure; she needed reassurance.

So, you dared to play along. "Maybe" you lied.

It was then a faint groan let Teen's lips, earning your attention. Immediately, Agatha was on alert; letting go of your hand.

You stood up, choosing to let her have her time with the boy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You did not walk astray, always remembering what would happen if you did. However, the Road gave you the feeling you had walked quite far; time being a mere illusion to you now.

You came to a halt, suddenly feeling on alert, but your gaze never stopped looking forward. Your hair at the back of your neck stood on end as a familiar presence and voice seemed to come directly from your own shadow; choosing to approach you from your most blind spot.

"Why the sour face, baby?" Rio asked, her hand slowly dragging itself across your back, making you shiver.

"I don't have a sour face," you argued, taking a few steps forward to remove her hand and put some distance between you and her.

Sometimes, it confused and infuriated you how both your magic and your body were reacting to Rio's presence.

You finally turned to face her, back in her normal earthy colours. "You did before. I guess the situation between Agatha and the Boy is not sitting well with you, " she said, her word sounding slightly more comforting and sincere, rather than the mockery you would expect.

Tired from everything, you could not help but sigh. "Come on, you can't tell me it doesn't sit odd with you," you said, and suddenly, something popped up in your mind.

You slowly walked towards her, steps condifent as there was this gleam in your eyes; one that akwsys intrigued and challenged Rio.

"I mean." You started, never breaking eye contact with her. "You made it so clear that you saw me as an obstacle between you and Agatha. Who says the boy isn't one as well?"

Perhaps it was wrong, to try and throw Teen under the bus that way. Perhaps you would regret it later on, considering what Rio was capable of. But you could not help it.

You had nothing against the boy, but perhaps you were tired of letting Agatha and everything slip through your fingers, always too afraid to tighten your grip and hold them there... hold them with you.

With the way the Road was going, you realized this might be the last chance for you to actually be brave and take the step... and that's what you were intending to do.

Rio watched you as you halted in front of her, neck craned up faintly as you stared deep into her dark eyes, no sign of fear; never fearing her, even when you first met.

"Because the boy is not hers," she replied.

Her gaze was not mocking, and neither was prideful at that moment, opposite of what you expected of her. Instead, you swore you saw regret in them; something you had rarely seen in Rio.

"How do you know?" You asked quickly, trying to save your futile attempt, but the moment the words left your mouth; you felt like an idiot. "Of course you do know," you sighed.

You felt her hand gently caressing your cheek, going as far as to gently push some of your hair away from your face and neck. The move was gentle, careful, and yet her cold skin made goosebumps appear on yours.

"You should be wary, baby girl," she started, taking half a step closer. "The way you are heading, you will get hurt again"

You focused on her, trying not to react or focus too much on her touch; which you swore was slowly growing bolder. "Only if I choose to stay behind but I don't have such plans. I am done being a coward," you confess, your voice threatening to crack by the last sentence.

"You are not a coward for doing what was expected of you," she cooed, words so sincere and caring you would not believe would come from the same witch that came through a freaking grave. "You are not meant to be here, Y/N."

You frowned at the certainty of her words. "What? Why?"

Rio didn't answer your question, holding back the answer you suddenly needed. "Join me, instead. Let me show you what you truly are meant to do."

Those words made you have a sense of dejavu, unlocking a memory locked at the very back of your mind.

The very first time you had heard her say those words, you stood between corpses of men; tired and blooded.

They were dead, and she had come to collect, having also enjoyed your magic outburst that ended your tormentors. Your magic was glowing and flowing wild, bright white eyes staring at her form.

She had told you those exact same words back then, trying to lure you intl trusting her; into giving in. You fought her at first and even later you never truly accepted.

Though you will admit, her lessons and influence had rubbed on you; helping you with your magic but also making you more careful of her 'true' nature.

"You and I are nothing alike" you managed to comment, feeling your self restrain getting more and more lost thanks to Rio's touch; that had moved towards your tie and threatened to take off some buttons from your white shirt.

"Aren't we?" Rio smirked, eyes landing on your parted lips as her hand stopped moving; fingers holding the side of your upper arm to ensure you would not move away.

Before something could take place, someone cleared their throat.

Chapter 19