#SORRY FOR HOME ALONE-ING

[cinemacrypt]

This is nothing

[tieronecrush]

secret santa

dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: your parents throw a christmas party every year, and this is your first time in the “adult” secret santa exchange. the last few times home, you’ve found joel, your dad’s friend, staring a bit too long, flicking away when he’s caught. for the game, of course, you get joel’s name. and you’re going to make sure it’s the best gift he’s ever received.

rating: E

wc: 5.6k

warnings: daddy kink, age gap (sorry folks but i did want to try my hand at dbf!joel lol i pictured him around 50, reader around mid-late 20s), alcohol consumption, mentions of food, distant relationship with parents, party, christmas, gift giving, secret santa game, bit of deception on reader's part just to get joel alone, lingerie, body worship, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, restraints (using clothes/undergarments), daddy!joel, soft!dom joel, praise, a few instances of degradation, dirty talk (as always)

a/n: (images in moodboard do not convey what reader looks like, only the vibe! no descriptions of reader) my first dbf!joel…milestone moment lol <3 hope y’all enjoy my take on the dbf trope! and tysm to my babies for beta-ing @northernbluess and @kiwisbell love you both 😚

dividers by @saradika

Twenty years. This same godforsaken party has been happening every December for the last twenty years of your life, full of overserved middle aged parents, and never has it been less enjoyable than since you’ve been an “adult”. An adult still treated as a child, chastised, fawned over, always told to follow the golden rule. No, not treat others as they wish to be treated. Your family’s golden rule was speak only when spoken to.

And your father was the enforcer. Always required you home for the party, even away, out of state for college, away for the semester studying abroad halfway across the world. You were flown home and called upon to do the heavy lifting — groceries, liquor runs, cleaning the house, decorating to make it all feel magically festive.

At times, it felt like Cinderella had nothing on you. At least she had a prince.

The only time that this party has ever been remotely improved was when Joel Miller moved into the neighborhood. He’d snuck in under your radar due to the fact that it happened the few months you were living abroad, but coming back for the party and Christmas break, you were quickly introduced to him by your father. His new “best friend”. One among many. Each serving a unique purpose to get your dad ahead.

Upon meeting Joel, you were drawn to him immediately. Skeptical over the fact he found company with your dad, but much to your surprise, he was different. Maybe lonely and looking for a friend; you’d found he was living alone, his adult daughter, Sarah, in her final years at the University of Chicago — a choice that was hers but Joel admittedly feared, you learned. He only encouraged her, regardless of the fact he was anxious about losing his kiddo.

Not the same sentiments your dad had when dropping you off to school in the farthest, cheapest corner of the country you could find. He was nearly jumping up and kicking his feet together in glee to get you out of the house.

Joel, though, Joel was kind hearted and patient. He was curious and caring, asking you about school, work, your life every time he saw you over the years. Warmth radiated from him despite his more shy demeanor. Comfortable. You felt so comfortable with him.

Which is what made the smallest of lingering glances or the slightest of smiles turned smirks that much more exhilarating.

Maybe you were being naive or projecting your burning desire for him onto every interaction, but as you stitched yourself tighter into Joel’s life over the years, you haven’t been able to help but notice him checking you out at times or slipping a subtle flirty comment into conversations between the two of you. You would give it right back, and that would usually pump the breaks, bringing things back to surface level.

There was one time this past summer, after a neighborhood barbecue that your parents left early from, that you and Joel really had a moment. It was loud, music drowning out the back and forth you were having to the point where you couldn’t quite make out every word, and Joel must have felt the same because he made sure you heard his next words clearly — “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

Agreeing immediately, he pressed his large hand into the midpoint of your back, guiding you out of the confines of the party and to the open air of the street. He led you to his place and around back, pulling two lounge chairs next to his pool closer to each other.

That night, thanks to the alcohol buzzing in your system, you confessed more about your home life and your feelings around it. Joel was surprised, given the picture-perfect image your father paints for everyone, but he was comforting as always. Even as far as offering you his spare room if you ever needed a break.

That’s when you knew you were done for. Never in your life had you wanted to just kiss someone that badly. Let alone all of the thoughts that came along with it.

Harboring this crush for your dad’s friend, fifty plus and a father himself, you attempted to keep things growing closer when you came back. Friendly, polite, reciprocating any amount of flirty banter he threw your way. Even initiating it yourself.

You were so incredibly into Joel Miller. And returning home this time, you decided it was high time you acted on those feelings.

The noise of the bustling party dies down enough for your dad to introduce the game, as if the attendees haven’t been participating for nearly as long as you’ve been alive. But your dad loves the attention on him, cracking jokes that make you roll your eyes while everyone else gives him a laugh. Always so focused on himself. How everyone else sees him. Image obsessed enough to forget to assign anyone as a Secret Santa to his own daughter but not forgetting to give her someone to gift to.

Granted, you weren’t that upset about who you’d drawn.

Watching from afar, you see Joel survey the empty space under the tree, only the deep cherry red skirt laid out on the hardwood. Nothing for him. Everyone opens their presents, laughter and excitement bubbling across the room as the point of the game begins. Partygoers start to guess their gifters, hoping to nail down their Secret Santa in one go. Conversations are struck up as people meet their pair, ‘thank you’s exchanged along with the gifts. Joel observes from his spot with a few of your neighbors, also friends with your dad, and the sight of him shifting his weight on his feet is enough to draw up the courage to approach him.

Crossing the room, flashes of him checking you out, lingering in conversations with you about work and your new apartment in the city, seeking you out each time you visit home flood your mind, reassuring your choices the closer you get to him. The closer you get to completely jumping into the deep end, the last few steps teetering you at the edge.

Slowing to a stop next to him, a finger of yours gingerly taps his strong shoulder a few times, pulling his attention away completely. Joel turns his body to face you, away from others to solely focus on you in front of him. The subtle sign of his attraction to you has your nerves tingling, clearing your throat when he speaks up in greeting.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Y’alright?” he asks, eyebrow raised. Always so goddamn sweet.

You sigh, a tinge dramatic but attempting to sell the dismay and toying with the flute glass in your hand. “Lame surprise, but I’m your Secret Santa and I stupidly left your gift upstairs. It’s a bit obnoxious to bring down so d’you mind coming up to open it and you can grab it at the end of the night?”

Joel agrees with a jolt of nervous excitement down his spine. Shuddering out the feeling subtly, he clears his throat and nods, awaiting your lead. He thinks he catches the slightest drag of your eyes up and down his body, lingering at the expanse of his shoulders and the sliver of his chest that is exposed from the two undone buttons of his red flannel.

When no one’s paying attention, you bring Joel upstairs into your old room that you’re staying in while you’re back in town for the holidays. He stands around a bit awkwardly, sticking out like a sore thumb with his broad shoulders stretching his red flannel, thick thighs straining deliciously against the perfectly worn material of his Levi’s. Stark against the frilly softness of your room, with its bright white furnishings, and feminine touches. He’s all man. Nothing like the guys your age who think they’re like him.

Joel glances about the room before he asks, “So, what was so difficult to get under the tree, sweetheart? You didn’t have to get me anything so major.”

“I wanted to. I mean, noticed you eyeing what I got you for a while so figured the least I could do was give it to you…” Joel’s face twists up in confusion, perplexed by the riddled clue before you’re standing in front of him, reaching to the side of your plaid skirt and dragging down the zipper. Joel stutters out nonsense at your actions, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Doll, I think—you don’t—” His mumblings die in his throat when you drop the material to your ankles, revealing red satin panties. When you turn around, a bow sits at the top of your ass, tying up the material to stay on your hips while elasticated bands run along the outline of your cheeks to connect to the crotch. Very little of your bum is covered, showing off the supple flesh to Joel. He’s rendered speechless, averting his gaze after a second too long of staring, the mumblings starting up again.

“S’not a good idea, shouldn’t be up here right now…” Joel looks around, looking over his shoulder toward the door. One of your hands reaches up to gingerly cup his chin, turning his flushed face to yours again. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with desire. Your own gaze flicks down between the two of you, smirking at the bulge growing at the crotch of his jeans. So desperately trying to fight against what he really wants. Even when you’re serving it up in a pretty little package.

He makes no movement toward the door, which you take as a sign of letting go of at least some of his apprehension. Fingers grip the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head, discarding it on your carpet along with your skirt.

Matching red satin material, the bra you’re wearing has a similar structure to your panties. Held up with straps and the usual clasps at the back, the front is a large gift bow, pulled tight when you tied it earlier this evening to push up the flesh of your breasts. One tug at the tail end of both the ribbons, the one at your chest and at your ass, would fully expose you to Joel. Something you’re desperate to propose to him.

“Aren’t you gonna unwrap your present, Joel?” Picking up each of his hands in yours, you guide one to your lower back and one to your chest, coaxing his fingers to wrap around the ends of the bows. “Or do you not like your gift? I thought you wanted this…”

“No, no, no. I like it. I really fucking like it, sweetheart, I just…Everybody’s downstairs and—”

“I can be quiet. I’m a good girl, Joel.”

That flips a switch in him, hearing those words from you. His eyes darken further, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips. A burning stare combs over you, head to toe, alighting flames in your gut that lick against your insides. Heat crawls across the back of your neck, pooling in your collarbone, and craving oozes between your ribs and between each of your vertebrae. Joel’s right hand lifts from his side, skating up the length of your left arm and leaving goosebumps rising in its wake. Fingertips ghost over the strap of your bra, down to the center of your collarbone, and sitting there. That lasts only a second before his long, thick fingers wrap around the base of your throat, raising his loose grip to settle underneath your jaw.

The silence is heavy, airy breaths the only sounds passed between the two of you. His hand at your neck coaxes your head to tip back, staring up at him looking down at you. A flicker to your lips. A low, curious hum. Arousal pools in between your thighs as you wait with bated breath for something, anything to happen.

“You’re dangerous, doll.” His whisper is coated in lust, his gaze greedy as it drinks you in once again.

“I’m a gift,” you correct sweetly, feigning innocence as a smirk grows on your face at his dark chuckle.

“A gift that keeps on giving?” he questions. His hand twists to allow his thumb to find your bottom lip, dragging across its glossy, cherry surface.

“I guess you’ll have to find out…” Your mouth stays open after speaking, tongue slipping out to lick the tip of Joel’s thumb. He presses his finger further, pushing between your lips as you welcome it, sucking gently. Joel sighs, shoulders relaxing while his eyes flash with need.

“Christ…” he hisses under his breath, shaking his head subtly before clearing his throat. Speaking sternly, unwavering, he says, “Can I unwrap my present, babydoll?”

His thumb leaves your mouth with a quiet pop, hand finding its place again at the slack of the bow at your chest, other arm wrapping around to find the bow at your ass. A gentle tug moves the satiny smooth material a few centimeters, not enough to pull it fully undone.

“All yours, Joel. Picked out ‘specially for you.” Joel smirks at your candied reply, eager to give him exactly what he’s been wishing for. What you’ve caught him staring at the last few times you’ve come back home. What you have been wanting for just as long, if not longer.

“Such a sweet girl. Beautiful girl.”

The words send a tingle down your spine, stoking the flames inside of you. Your eyes stay trained on Joel’s face while his fingers draw the bow at your chest undone, the lengths of material hanging at your sides and exposing your breasts. He licks his lips at the sight of your pebbled nipples, rolling out a stifled groan from his chest.

“Fuck, baby…S’pretty.”

Joel’s hands fan across your lower back, holding your hips against his, pressing his bulge into your covered mound. His broad frame folds forward, draping you backwards in his arms as his mouth attaches to your chest. Humid, open-mouthed kisses are littered across your skin, nips taken at the tender flesh of your breasts. Closing his lips around one of your nipples, he sucks strongly, pulling a whimper from your throat.

“Thought you could be quiet, doll?” he rasps, raising an eyebrow as he looks up at you from your sternum.

Nodding furiously, you pout your lower lip out, whispering back, “I can be, I will be. I promise.”

“You promise? Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby.” Joel stands up straight, pulling you with him to press against his torso. Catching your lips in a deep kiss, Joel breathes a sigh into your mouth, melting his tongue against yours and drinking in the taste of you.

Dripping with saccharine sugar. Coated with syrupy goodness, plump and succulent like a maraschino cherry. A toothache, or maybe even a heartache waiting to happen.

He’s fucking screwed, but damn if it doesn’t feel good as he nails himself to his own persecution from whoever may find out about this.

Handfuls of your undulating curves fill his palms as he kisses you, groaning into your mouth as he grabs at the swell of your ass. Silky satin brushes against his hand, reminding him of the other part of his present to unwrap. Pulling away from your mouth with one last lick of your candied taste, he has the mind to imagine what the rest of your flavors all across your body might be.

Joel turns you in his arms, back flush to his chest as he grinds his bulge against the lustrous fabric, smirking to himself as you whimper quietly, so hushed he can barely hear it over his heartbeat thudding in his ears. Lips coast over the shell of your ear, nibbling your lobe before pressing a kiss right below.

“Can I undo your other pretty bow, babygirl? Unwrap the rest of my present?” Joel nips again when you breathe out consent. He walks you closer to the bed, hitting your knees against the frame before he takes one step back, touch still lingering on your skin. From behind you, he sighs appreciatively as he drinks in your form, licking his lips as his eyes devour you.

Pinching the ribbon between his thick fingers, he flicks it against your skin, satisfied with the way you react with goosebumps raised. One gentle tug unravels it all, exposing your cheeks to him fully and with the drop of the material from between his fingertips, your panties fall to the floor. One hand wrapping around your thigh, Joel coaxes you to step out to the side with it, kicking the fabric from your ankle.

He kneels behind you, pressing his lips against the swell of your ass. Flooded with the scent of your skin, vanilla and cinnamon, the smell of Christmas. Nose smashed into the supple flesh, teeth sinking into the curve, a gentle bite stealing another taste of you. A curse is mumbled against you, a sweet kiss pressed on the tiny birthmark on your ass, tongue tracing into the fading bite mark.

“Joel…” you whine above him, hand reaching back and nimble fingers tangling into his messy, gray curls.

“I know, doll. Got lost there for a second. You’re so perfect…”

He sighs again, standing up with a quiet crack in his joints. A blatant reminder of the difference between you two. Young versus old. Sprightly versus verging on doddering. Even if he is eager, there’s no denying the difference.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Joel’s about to be more of a gift to you than you are to him. The way he’s touching you, delicate worship before he’s even gotten to what he truly wants, taking his time despite the pressure of the party downstairs. Serves as a reassurance that he wants this as much as you do, wants to take his sweet time if this is going to be his only chance.

You pray to god it isn’t. Even before you’ve even laid eyes on his cock, you just know. He’s going to fuck you senseless. Ruin every other man for you.

In a blur, he guides you to fall forward onto the mattress, hooking fingers to remove your panties from your other ankle while you scoot toward the center. He finds solace between your legs, propping your hips up into a kneeling position to give him easier leverage. 

“Think this might be my favorite present I’ve been given, doll. So fucking gorgeous. Looking delectable…Can I have a taste, darling? You as sweet as you seem?”

Your head is turned sideways, laying against the plush comforter, opening your mouth to whisper to him in the same moment he swipes his tongue through your folds, groaning into your inner thigh before he dives back in, working to devour you like a man starved, quenching his thirst on your arousal. Flicking his tongue against your pearl, coated in your translucence, suckling at it with pure need. Turning to press the front of your face into your bedding, it muffles your moans and whines, raising in pitch as he fucks your tight cunt with his strong tongue, lapping at you with the same fervor he’d lick the color from a candy cane.

“Fuck, Joel, fuck fuck fuck!” you shout in a scouring voice, scratching your vocal chords together with a strain. Curling your fingers into the softened, washed fabric, you gasp when one of his solid fingers slips into your walls. He groans, holding back his louder reaction to your gripping walls, hypnotized by the way you even stretch around his fingers when he adds another.

Head against your thigh, he studies the way you take his middle and ring fingers, the velvety slick of your pussy, and the spongy spot he finds, curling his digits to press into it and watch you squirm helplessly from the sensitive pleasure.

“Talkin’ all well mannered and pretty. So quiet and polite all the time. With your ‘yes’sir’s and ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s. You think about saying those to me while you’re under me like this?”

“Yes, yes’sir. All the fucking time. Every time I—I looked at you, felt myself…felt myself gettin’ so fucking wet. Was always dripping around you, waiting for something to happen. For you to take me so I can be a good girl for you, sir,” you confess, obedience and need sitting every word so prettily into his ears. “M’so—Fuck m’gonna come, Joel.”

He nods slowly, taking last looks at your cunt before he moves his fingers in and out quicker, dipping his chin down for his mouth to find your clit against, lapping at your dripping wetness and sucking hard. At the next press of his fingers against that spot inside of you, your vision grows blurred, white haze painting everything with a dreamlike filter. You bite into the linen fabric of your comforter, gagging yourself to keep quiet as you come, digging the balls of your feet to the mattress to push yourself away from Joel who continues to work you through it. He grabs at you, tugging you back to get his fill until you sob, overstimulation drawing tears up to the corners of your eyes.

“All kept and composed and ladylike. Been taught to behave, haven’t you? Bet you fucking love to be such a little slut. Anybody ever let you? Such a dirty girl, aren’t you, babydoll?” Joel’s voice sounds distanced at first, senses falling back into place in your body as you come down completely. His work-worn hands coast over your body, roughening against your soft skin like sandpaper moving with the grain. Little resistance but catching in places it favors.

“Just—Just for you, Daddy.” It slips out smoothly from your mouth, the weight of the title heavy against your tongue in the same way you imagine his cock would feel. Filling. Satisfying.

Joel rises slowly from where he’s bent behind you, letting one leg fall behind him as he stands, the other propped on the bed. His eyes narrow in on yours, lips parted and tongue darting out as he replays what you said.

Daddy.

First, you’re already on his mind and years younger, yet he couldn’t stop picturing you in this exact position. Next, you’re the one to make the first move, dragging him away from this Christmas party and presenting him with a Secret Santa gift that feels way out of the budget. You’re priceless. And now, you’re laid out for him, already nearly at the level of fucked out from him only using his mouth and fingers, and you’re fucking calling him Daddy.

Best Christmas of his goddamn life.

“Now, darlin’, were you saving that to be the cherry on top of the cake? ‘Cause that’s just about the sweetest thing. My pretty lil’ babydoll saying she’s Daddy’s dirty girl,” he scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head while his fingers work his button open on his jeans, dragging the zipper down against his throbbing bulge. “Gonna have to be quiet, yeah? Gotta keep your sweet mouth closed while Daddy fucks you, doll.”

“I’ll be quiet, promise. Please, Daddy.” Your pleas widen Joel’s smirk, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips once again. He pushes his denim down with his cotton boxers in their wake, sighing softly when his hard cock is fully freed. His tip is aching and red, leaking precum and leaving a wet spot on his underwear. With one hand, he starts to slowly stroke himself, holding in a moan enough that it leaves his lips as a soft exhale.

“Good girl…” he mumbles, studying your form. “Move back toward me, babygirl. Hands behind your back.”

Complying with his direction, you inch back until Joel places a hand on your lower back. At that, you lay forward again, the side of your face pressing against the duvet as Joel steps back from the bed and searches the floor. A dribble of drool drips from the corner of your lips as you watch him, one large hand around his cock, spreading his precum along his length. Part of you has the mind to beg for him in your mouth, to completely disregard the need pulsating your cunt at the moment, and to feel his warm spend coating your throat as he finishes fucking it.

But you’re fucking selfish. This is also a gift for you, so win-win.

Pressing your wrists together at your lower back, you observe as Joel locates what he is looking for, standing up with a devilish smirk. Your panties.

He towers over you again when he steps back to you, one hand coasting over the curve of your ass, a gentle smack delivered that makes a quiet yelp escape from your lips. The same hand skims back up your skin, easily grabbing both of your wrists in his long fingers and holding them closer while he slips the silky material behind. In a quick motion, he has your arms tied together with a bow, a content smile on his face as he makes eye contact with you.

“Wrapped all up again, babydoll. Such a pretty gift for me.”

“Well you’ve got a pretty package, Daddy,” you reply with a mischievous giggle, earning a breathy chuckle from Joel behind you. He grips the knot of your makeshift restraint, tugging taut to arch your back and pull your hips closer. His other hand wraps around the base of himself, dragging the head of him through your drenched folds, circling your clit, and chuckling again at the jump of your thighs.

“Please, Daddy, I need—” you start pleading, muffled into linen before you’re cut off by the stretch of Joel’s cock filling your tight hole, a gasp escaping your lungs with a punch. Your mouth is stuffed with the duvet from your bite down, nursing your tongue against the material as he slowly presses into you, inch by inch. There’s an ever-so-slight pain candy-coating the pleasure, melting away to get to the gooey, oozing center that spreads over your entire body.

Pausing when he reaches the hilt of himself, Joel sighs, rolling his head back as he internally thanks whatever Christmas magic must be out there for this moment.

“So fucking tight, baby.” 

Your dampened whine shoots a wave of intense need throughout him, growling low as he holds your restraint tighter, dragging his hips back before he starts a punishing pace. Control escapes him, desire taking over his actions as he starts to properly fuck you. His cock teaching you how to take every single inch of it.

Messes of his name and your moans are stifled and stuttered into the comforter gagging you, chest hovering over the mattress as Joel holds tight to the knot in your panties.

“Can’t hold back any longer, baby, jus’—fuck—jus’ gonna take Daddy’s cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” The only precision remains in the soft cracks of skin on skin, not loud enough to draw any attention from the party downstairs. Poppy carols play faintly in the background, the only other soundtrack being the vulgar mumbles slipping from Joel’s lips.

Drawing you closer and closer, the edge is tasted on your tongue, so close but barely in reach as the man behind you rocks his hips, the tip of his hard cock brushing that same spongy spot inside of you that he managed to reach with his fingers, bruising into your cervix with each snap.

At the next drag-out, Joel pulls away from you completely. When you whine with protest, he’s tugging you to stand up on your knees, whispering in your ear amid his quick movements, “Need to see your face when I make you come all over my cock…”

Before you can be left with any thoughts to a response, he’s flipping you onto your back, hands tied still, and tugging you near again. He steals a pillow from the top of your bed, shoving it under your hips to lift your pelvis, gifting himself the perfect angle to thrust into you again from the height he stands at.

The new angle punches out moans from your chest, Joel’s name littering the empty room as you try so hard to remain quiet.

“Shh, I know, doll, I know. Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Y’love bein’ Daddy’s little slut.” Nodding furiously, another louder moan leaves your mouth, brows knit together with worry as you hurtle closer and closer to the edge.

A large palm moves to cover your mouth, shaking his head slowly to remind you of your promise to be his good girl, his quiet girl. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, Daddy…” He feels the vibrations of your voice against his hand, the words muddled into slight nonsense from pleasure clouding your brain. Joel holds onto one of your legs, pulling it up to hook onto his shoulder and press forward to get deeper inside of you. The switch has you screaming into his palm, eyes squeezing shut as you squirm under him.

“Eyes on me, babygirl. Keep your eyes on Daddy.”

Joel’s hips pound into you, chasing his own climax. Your eyes snap open at his instruction, mouthing at his hand and moaning loudly behind it, nodding your head furiously. Your tight walls squeeze around his hard cock, his grunts held back to keep quiet despite the noise of the party downstairs growing in volume.

“Come on, doll. Come on my cock…Fuck, you gonna let Daddy fill up your pretty little cunt?” The quick, speechless nods answers his question, both of you toeing the edge.

There’s a moment when both of you seize up, muscles tense and eyes burning into each other’s. It only lasts a split second before it explodes with a pop, at the same second a champagne bottle pops downstairs. Joel breathes out your name, over and over, mingling with your whimpers of his name and Daddy switching back and forth in your mind. Interchangeable to you.

Pleasure fizzes over your bodies like bubbles in the flutes being filled, the bubbling aerations trickling up up up to your head, making you feel lighter than air as pure bliss overwhelms you. Tingles aftershock across your nerves, a shiver sent down your spine as Joel pulls out.

Quietly, he groans as he watches his excess spend drip out of you, mixing with your come and glistening against your folds. One thick finger swipes at the spot, pushing the swirl of you back inside of your walls.

A soft whimper slips from your lips and Joel’s eyes meet yours in a flash, a gentle smile stretching across your face. He coaxes you to sit up and unties your hands behind your back, slowly massaging your wrists with his thumbs and kissing where the skin rubbed against the fabric. The tender touches accompany the soothing, comfortable silence.

Redressing you, Joel attempts to tie the bows of your bra and panties, huffing softly in frustration. You giggle when he’s working on your bra, taking his chin gingerly between your fingers and turning his head to look at you. Leaning in, his lips catch yours in a sweet, sugary gumdrop kiss. 

It’s another moment before both of you are fully dressed again. You study yourself in the mirror above your dresser, smoothing your hair down. Joel steps up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder through the knit sweater. He turns you around to face him again, grinning shyly as his eyes comb over your face.

The two of you share another kiss, his calloused hand cradling your cheek when he pulls away.

“You gonna be under my tree again on Christmas day, doll?”

“Depends…Were you naughty or nice this year?” you counter, earning a quiet laugh from Joel as he shakes his head.

“Think what just happened has put me on the naughty list for a long time, babygirl. And you, too.” He shoots you a cheeky wink and you laugh, shaking your head as you lock your fingers together in front of you.

“I did actually get you something though…” you admit shyly, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

Joel grins, eyes flicking down to your anxious hands. His thumb brushes against the skin of your cheek, eyes meeting yours again as he replies, “You have another gift for me? Didn’t need to do that, doll.”

“I mean…Kinda needed a backup plan if this whole thing didn’t work out.” A chuckle is shared between both of you before you continue, “Sorry for spoiling the whole guessing game of Secret Santa.”

“Darlin’, you could spoil any games for me if it ends up with this kinda surprise.” Joel smirks before stealing another quick kiss, pulling away when you step back to fish out the small, meticulously wrapped giftbox from the top right drawer of your dresser.

Handing over the square package, Joel’s eyes glitter with boyish excitement. The corner of his mouth pulls up to one side while his thick fingers slip under the creases of the paper to rip the tape, undoing the festive wrapping to reveal the lidded giftbox that he opens quickly. Inside, Joel studies the contents. Small triangles with rounded corners made from thin nylon plastic. A deep emerald green, all sitting like precious gemstones. His initials are branded into one side with gold paint, the flip side emblemed with the silhouette of an owl.

“Sweetheart…Thank you. These are real nice…” he speaks softly while he picks one up between his index and thumb, turning it between the tips of his fingers. “They’re perfect. Gonna be sad if I end up losing one of these like all my other picks.”

You smile sweetly, stepping closer again and resting your hands on his biceps, “Guess you’ll have to take good care of ‘em.”

As he looks at you, he mirrors your smile, sharing one more gentle kiss before whispering against your lips, “Can think of another something I have to take good care of.”

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[goth-mami-writer]

☆Unbothered☆

~(Au) Leon Kennedy ×f!Reader drabble/work

POV: You and Leon are tired parents trying to get some ~time alone~ from household responsibilities and decide to try your hand at scheduled...😉.

~[Part 2 coming soon!]

☆

《 You lied there windedly in the bed beside Leon that night after your typical bedtime routine with your housefull. You were exhausted, and tonight, you just didn't get the few minutes you needed to unwind from the day. He had climbed under the covers beside you in the dark without a word, and you were almost thankful that he, too, was silent. The two of you had been married for 14 years this summer, and there was no doubt you were still in love. But having three children and a busy marriage was very changing for any relationship.

Your schedules were always clashing, and most of the time, you were always the coordinator of someone else's chaos. Between pediatrician appointments for your youngest who was a toddler, soccer practice for your son, orthodontist visits for your middle daughter - or Leon losing his watch and wallet for the fourth time that week-

You were exhausted.

Burnt out.

You often felt bad for Leon, too. His work kept him away from the kids most of the time, and they were always impatient to see him. He'd come home after three days, flown to a strange city, and would be greeted by a huddle of excitement that tugged at his waist first thing. There’d never not be a tiny voice ”daddy”-ing him. He was an amazing father, and of course, you were grateful. You just wished he wouldn't forget so much.

He sighed heavily with his face in his hands and he turned towards you in the bed to whisper in the silence of your room,

“What are we gonna do about Maya? Her braces are bothering her again.”

“On Friday, they should give her some stuff for pain at the orthodontist..” You whispered, closing your eyes to try and rest.

“Who's taking her to that?” Leon asked, clueless, and your eyes snapped open in disbelief. But not complete disbelief because he would often forget things much bigger than this.

You had told him three times before that he needed to take his daughter to that appointment on his lunch at work, and he suddenly snapped in the realization that he'd agreed to doing so already,

“Honey, I'm sorry, I can still take her. Are you taking Blake to soccer on-”

“Yes-” You said annoyedly, turning on your side away from him to try and get sleep, and his eyes narrowed to your snappy attitude all of the sudden.

“Alright, I'm just asking. Jesus.”

He turned on his other side, facing the opposite way in silence to get some sleep. You suddenly remembered something else on your schedule. You rose up in the bed, sitting on your elbows to tell him quietly over his shoulder before you forgot too,

“By the way, mom called. She's taking the kids upstate to Aunt Gretchen's this weekend for the holiday.”

Leon was silent in trying to remember who the hell your Aunt Gretchen even was, but he put that aside as he turned to face you, curious to the fact that this sounded like….a stress free weekend ahead?

“Is she taking the baby too?”

You nodded, saying that Aunt Gretchen hadn't seen the baby since you'd had him in the hospital a year ago. Leon looked around, almost wondering what a weekend being kid free would even feel like. Sure, Blake and Maya went to summer camp sometimes, but it wasn't always. He felt an idea beginning to settle into his mind, and he smiled, looking to you in the dark with a playful grin,

“Then, you wanna go out?”

You felt yourself turning over slowly because you knew exactly what he was insinuating and it in fact was not a romantic date night between you two, much to your disappointment and you asked suspiciously to weed out what he really meant,

“Go out… and do what? We can't book reservations this late. You hate the movies- I hate the movies so…”

“We could stay in?” He said smirking with dirty images floating in his head as he scooted a little closer to your side to try and act quietly persuasive,

“We can open up some wine and relax? Make something we haven't had in a while because the kids probably hate it. Lay in the bed …uninterrupted-”

“Leon-” You said, seeing through this with a straight face to remind him of the at least three other times that you both wanted to ‘just relax’,

“You get me pregnant again, I might go insane.”

It was true that your sex life was declining as you both matured. But due to the warmth of your marriage, it wasn't having a negative effect that you could notice. Although, both of you knew that your intimacy was in the graveyard at this point; spontaneous love making just wasn't a part of your routine anymore. Your kids were your world, but the time devoted to them was becoming a challenge.

He chuckled in defeat knowing you were too smart for his long monologue of what he had in mind for you two during your time alone. He nudged in closer to you, making you look away as he nuzzled into the curve of your neck,

“I'm just saying that it would be nice to spend some time with you, baby.”

“Don't ‘baby’ me.” You grumbled to make him stop sweet talking you like you were in your twenties again. Slowly, you felt as he began to lay on top of you, but you were more welcoming of his touch second by second. Finally, you melted and finally kissed him back, making him smile against your mouth in victory.

“We're tired parents, Leon. We get in this bed distraction free, and we'll end up just falling asleep.” You said during his kisses down your neck and across your chest.

He shook his head softly, trying to not get too imaginative but he mentioned with that sleepy gravel in his throat when he told you what his idea of the turnout might be once two tired parents finally get to mess around unbothered in the comfort of their own bed without having to worry about what time it was, if they were being too loud or who had work in the morning.

“I think we'll keep each other busy.”

You both slipped under the covers when Leon wrapped you around him, letting more of his weight sink into you as he kissed you deeply but you were awoken from this small daze of bliss by the crackling of the baby monitor when the baby began to stir from the nursery.

You sighed, unraveling away from him after knowing that you'd have to console the baby or else he'd cry all night. Leon laid on his side, watching you fan the blush away from your face sweetly but he mentioned quietly before you left to the nursery, pulling your arm gently to make sure you knew he wanted to add his own little activity to the list of things needing to be done this week

“Hey- you and me Saturday. Whatever we want, okay?”

You smiled but rolled your eyes, knowing that you had to give in when he spoke like this. You'd not had a date in forever and knew whatever you ended up doing, either in the bed or maybe wine drunk in the kitchen, would be special.

“I'll…put it on the calendar.” You said with a trusting smile before leaving to attend the baby.

You quietly hurried across the hall to answer the tiny cries but knew one thing for certain now that you wouldn't have Leon in eyesight, knowing that you were sharing the same dirty idea.

Uninterrupted sex sounded….fantastic.

But planning it like a PTA meeting sounded so strange. Although making things work when the schedule was so tight wasn't something you were unaccustomed to. You had been parenting for over a decade, after all.

What's the worst that could happen? 》

[kayhi808]

Neighbors - Alpine

Masterlist

Bucky hates that you walk home alone after your set at the Flatiron Room, so he's been meeting you after work so you both can grab dinner & head home together. Arriving a little early, Bucky turns down the side alley, making his way to the employee entrance/exit. There's more trash than normal in the alley. Shaking his head, he nudges some of the crates & boxes to the side with his foot.

The last box he shoves emits a high pitch "meow" and Bucky freezes. No. He doesn't see any movement from the box, maybe he imagined it. He goes to lean up against the wall opposite the door. The door opens, but it not you. Your co-workers walk down the alley and as they pass the box, he hears another loud "meow".

Walking over to the box he lifts one of the top flaps and there's a kitten. "Damn it." Bucky squats down & there a dirty white cat meowing. "Hey, buddy." The kitten stretches up the side of the box, meowing. "It's ok. I got you." He reaches in to take the kitten out & it start to shriek & hiss. "Whoa! Hold on." He takes away his hand not wanting to scare the ball of fluff. This gets repeated twice. "Look, you're going to need to cooperate here."

"What are you doing??" You walk out to see your boyfriend hunched over a dirty box in the alley.

"Oh, hey Doll!" Frowning, he stands and gives you a quick kiss. He points to the box. "I got me a pet."

"Oh, Bucky!"

"His name is Alpine...Al." The tiny kitten meows pitifully so you try to pick him up and he immediately goes into hiss-mode. "Jesus."

"I know! It's like, 'you want to get out or not?". You remove the scarf from around your neck and hand it to Bucky. "Use this."

Bucky drops your scarf over the kitten & takes it out of the box. He's making so much noise. "Shhhh. You're safe, Al. I got you." After Bucky's coo-ing, the kitten is still screaming. "I'm saving you, dummy."

You hit Bucky's arm, "Don't call him a dummy! He's just scared." You pout and try to uncover his head, so he can at least see what's going on. Once his head is free from the scarf, he quiets & gives you both a silent meow that melts your heart. You go to scratch his head & he wiggles and hisses. Bucky laughs as you jerk your hand back. "See, dummy." And yet Bucky still brings him closer to his chest, to try & keep him warm.

******

The kitten stayed silent on the walk home as long as you both didn't touch it. Dirty little face taking in all the sights of the big city while nestled up against Bucky's chest.

You make a quick stop at the corner store to see if they got anything for kittens, which wasn't much. You got cat litter but all they had was adult cat food. It's better than nothing. Bucky can go shopping tomorrow.

Letting yourselves into Bucky's apartment, "He's probably starving."

"I got some chicken in the fridge." You head towards the kitchen to dice up some leftover rotisserie chicken. You heat that up and go to find Bucky.

He's in the living room setting up a box for his new friend. "We got a problem."

"What's wrong!?"

He lifts Alpine up to show you despite the angry hissing. "Al is a girl!"

You laugh, "That's not a problem."

Putting her down so she can investigate the chicken. "I already thought of him...her as a boy. He's my buddy."

"Well...she can still be your buddy. What? Do you want to get rid of her now?"

"No!!"

"Okay then."

You both sit on the floor and watch her gobble up her food. Bucky is able to pet her head because she's so distracted by her food. She can't bother with hissing. Once Alpine is done eating Bucky gives her a bath which didn't go at all well. You're in the kitchen putting sandwiches together for dinner but you hear her high pitch meowing. Bucky's cajoling only makes her scream louder.

He finally brings her out, "She was filthy." He puts Alpine on the floor and she is pristine white.

"She's so cute! Look at your daughter." He sits down with you to eat as he lets Alpine explore.

"Sorry about tonight."

"Don't be! I can't believe how cute she is. She was so dirty." You watch her wander around the living room like she owns the place.

"Am I doing the right thing in keeping her?" Bucky's eyes follow her around the room and you know he's a goner. No way is he giving up this kitten.

"Was she better off in the alley?"

"I could drop her off at the animal shelter tomorrow. I'm sure a family would adopt her." You already see the pain in his eyes just thinking of giving her up. At that moment Alpine walk up to Bucky's feet and taps it with her paw and meows at him. "Hey Al, what's up? She meows again & when he just smiles at her, she starts making biscuits to his socks. You both look at each other with silent gasps.

"She's not going anywhere," you laugh.

Alpine gives a big yawn and a last meow, before Bucky reaches down to pick her up. Not a hiss or a scream is heard. He cradles the kitten in the crook of his arm and she starts to purr and falls asleep.

"I'm going to head home. I'll let you bond with your baby," you tease, dropping a kiss to his lips, "Congratulations, Nerd. I'll see you tomorrow."

Laughs, "G'night, Doll."

"Sleep tight, Alpine," you give her a couple scratches before you head next door.

[space-apples]

i buried my teeth in everything good

hi chatters sorry for dying. thanking @dakedo0o @loveroped @angeart and @sunieraes for beta-ing i appreciate you <3

here it is on AO3 x

and if you want to read it here you can do that !!

He’s succeeded his task, and the wind was faintly blowing in his ear, almost sounding like laughter.

He’s succeeded his task, and the sun was just peeking over the mountains. He didn’t even realize he’d gone the whole night without a blink. 

He’s succeeded his task, and the cold air was gnawing against his skin. He could hardly care anymore. 

Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life.

He was drowning now, and felt the familiar sense of life being drained from him before arriving back at the Secret Keeper. He stared at it coldly (everything was cold.)

A skeleton was somewhere in the distance. It was shooting at him, but Scar couldn’t be bothered to care. The arrows buried themselves into his skin, but as he bled and whatever remaining life source once again drained out of him, Scar didn’t recognize the pain as much as he should have. All he really felt was numbness, a fucked up sense of relief. He closed his eyes, exhaling softly, wishing, hoping, praying for release.

If he died now, he would be gone. He would be free. 

Of course the Gods above cared too much about their entertainment to let him go. So when he opened his eyes, the arrows were gone. The only mark left that showed they were ever there were the scars. More to add to the collection, he supposed, bitterly staring up at the Secret Keeper statue. 

Scar wanted to scream at it, to get TNT and blow the stupid thing to dust and rubble. 

He pressed the button once more, wildly, angrily, and cursing so much that a sailor would cringe away. 

Win Secret Life, it said. As always. He did win. As always. 

Pressing the button over and over again wouldn’t do anything, but he did anyway, something in him snapping. Only getting more desperate and upset with each hit as it gave him more and more books. He didn’t care that his hand was getting splintered, that a nasty bruise was starting to form, that he felt it breaking. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care about anything anymore, he couldn’t focus on caring. Scar just wanted to go home. 

He didn’t even realize when he started rapidly hitting the stone instead, putting so much weight and force into his attacks that the button had broken. When he paused long enough to realize, he swore he couldn’t feel himself breathing anymore. The books were splattered around, his hand was bloodied, and his legs crumbled from underneath him. 

Scar prided himself on being resilient, only crying once or twice after a Life Game. But seeing his own blood on a half beaten rock where the button should have been, feeling the cold air biting at his skin, the awareness that he was irrefutably alone, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do anything in order to go home, shattered any resolve he so wished to keep. 

His hands didn’t seem like his as he laid them, shakily, gently, carefully, on pedestal once more. His whole body shook, wracked with impending doom. He was sobbing, he realized, though the tears never seemed real. None of this seemed real. He couldn’t breathe through it, and some sick part of him hoped that it would continue, that his body would finally collapse and allow him to be detached from this world. 

But maybe he deserved this. 

Maybe with how many people he killed, how many people he made suffer, this was his punishment. A permanent loop, a permanent limbo, forever cursed to be alone. 

Maybe that was the reason for his time here; showing that his destiny, his purpose, his fate, was to be on his own. Where he grew up, it wasn’t exactly an option to talk with other people, and perhaps he got too comfortable in Hermitcraft. Last Life should have been his reminder, his push in the right direction, but he wanted the interaction. The comfort of being near someone was too tempting to turn down. Yet the bite of cold he felt constantly growing up in the apocalypse, it was the same he felt on that horrible mountain in Last Life. It was the same he felt now. He couldn’t escape it, no matter how many blankets or campfires he had, just like how he wouldn’t ever be able to be relieved of the crippling isolation that threatened to overflow and drown him. 

He didn’t know when time started to blur even more, he didn’t know when he started to feel so numb that it felt like he couldn’t move his legs. He couldn’t care for it. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of doing just that. The sun was blaring, it might have stung to look at, yet he just kept staring upward, blankly. There wasn’t much else he could do, anyways. He broke the button. He probably broke his hand too, but he was floating too much to really register it.

He didn’t notice when his legs became anchored to the ground. The hope that the possibility of his opponents (they were friends, they were friends, they were friends) cared enough to come back, to check in on him, was of course foolish. They wouldn’t. It should have bothered him more, and maybe some part of him was uneasy. But a bigger part of him was tired. 

Now, his legs didn’t just feel heavy, they felt like stone. 

And that’s when he noticed he couldn’t sit up. That everything was so much colder. That he was so much more aware of the world. He could make out every grass blade being eaten by grazing animals, the fish wading through the waters, and he didn't even flinch at the desperate snarling of the Undead– the zombies. They were hungry, ravenous, and all he could really do was shift his energy away from it. 

He still felt like he was being stared at, yet he couldn’t detect the stare of the Secret Keeper anymore. It bothered him in the back of his mind. In the dark corners, it felt more than simply wrong. His eyes felt sluggish, but somehow he knew he wouldn’t be able to close them. Now he had to watch, to feel more than the ground below him, the suffocating air around him. It was dark. It was bright. It was hot, but so so so cold. 

All he could do was stare into the sky, watching the sun reach into his peripherals and watch it fade away into a cold night, stars tracing each speck of his vision. It should have been the only thing he saw. He didn’t know how he saw everything. But the statue wasn’t there anymore, it wasn’t watching along beside him. 

He tried to regard it as a good thing. That he didn’t have to feel that prying stare bear into him. But all he could think was that he was now those intrusive, intense, invading eyes. It wasn’t that it was gone, it was that he took its place. He didn’t know if shattering that stupid button was the cause, but he didn’t even mean to break it. He had just wanted to go home.

He can’t even think of how he’d do that now. He barely remembers the faces of his opponents. No, no, they were his friends. Yes, his friends. He couldn’t remember the faces of his friends. They were all muddled and blurry, just like the memories of their time together, hardly resurfacing when he tried to remember. He remembers a boat pole? Bluebells— no, that wasn’t right. He couldn’t frame it correctly, but akin to. A flower of sorts, poisonous to something. He remembers vague things about vexes, though they were just a– a mob with no real significance. He can’t quite... God, why can’t he remember. They were his friends, he said it himself, they were kind and funny and. He wished he could remember more about them other than their bloodshed, than their violence. There were pieces he was missing.

(He misses them. He needs them. He doesn’t know why he’s here, why he’s had to isolate and disconnect from everyone he knew for the sake of Watching. But it isn’t his job to question it, if he could even do such a thing. At least not anymore.)

Time passed on, he knows it’s passed on. There’s little, in this world at least, he doesn’t know at this point. But as far as the people who are gone, the people he killed, he doesn’t know where they are now. How long it’s been for them. He knows there’s not much he can do about it. There’s not much they can do to save him. He thought, he hoped, the numbness was back.

He didn’t know how much he even felt anymore, he wasn’t sure he was capable of feeling. So why, why, is there so much dread in the pits of his stomach. Why is there nausea building in his body, his head throbbing with a migraine. Why did his fear come back all at once, his disquiet of being so utterly alone solitary abandoned abandoned abandoned being seemingly worse than before. It’s not like it ever left, but if it did, it came back stronger than it ever was prior. He didn’t mind being numb, really. He half-heartedly wished for it back. He vaguely realized in his mind he won’t be going home anymore. And this wasn’t at all what he wanted. To be trapped in a never ending loop of pain and pressing buttons was hardly on anyone’s bucket list. He didn't even know what he wanted now, other than to simply rest. 

Though now he figured this was why he was here. Why wouldn’t they want someone already contiguous to not one soul— someone so bloodthirsty— in their grasp. Playing their sick games until he could only regurgitate futile means of escaping. Watching for them. Commanding for them. Succeeding for them. Maybe he should have felt horrified at the prospect, and maybe he did, but if it wasn’t at the forefront, he could hardly be expected to feel anything other than that flooding sense of numbness. Maybe he didn’t want to be here. Maybe he did. It didn’t matter now. He had a job to do. 

He succeeded his task, and it was then he noticed the button on the stone pedestal was back. It was nicer than the old one. Engraved in markings he recognized. It was the traditional Elven designs that coiled around harsh stone, though he could already feel the connection to his identity fading away.

He succeeded his task, and yet when he tried to reach out for it, he couldn’t move his hand anymore.

He succeeded his task, and now he’d be making sure when others came along, they’d succeed too. 

He could vaguely remember that he was Scar, but even that was fading from his mind. Now he was the keeper, the beholder, the Successor of the thing that was here before.

.

. 

. 

.

.

They had no idea how long they were trapped in there. They tried to glance around, and though they could technically see, they couldn’t See, not how they were used to. They didn’t wish for it back. Or perhaps they did. But the harsh transition made it difficult to look around at all.

They knew they were not envious of their replacement— though it was still hard to grasp that they could feel, really feel again. The sensations latched onto them like they'd always been there; like it was coming home— but they couldn’t remember anything to match it, or anything at all. It had been too overwhelming to have so many of them, to notice and detect sensations other than stone and that icy cold that swallowed them whole.

 It had been far too long to even remember their name. They were trying awfully hard as well, to remember the identity they had left behind. Before all the buttons, before all the colored names and hopeless faces showed, before all the cravings of violence just to get a sick taste of what being angry meant. They had a life, surely. 

They looked down at their new body. This one couldn’t have been their old one– Staring into the reflection they remembered the face of their Successor, eyes still red and running rampant on Red Life urges. They weren’t in that world, and yet. They wondered if the bloodshed would ever stop.

 It was rather warm here, they noticed, but for some reason they could still sense that bite of cold they felt as the Keeper. 

They didn’t quite know where they were, but they could hear someone approaching. They almost expected a button to be pressed, for them to make a request. Of course that didn’t happen here, and instead a voice called out. 

Excited, concerned, afraid, afraid, afraid—

“Scar, oh my god.” The person, upon seeing them, ran over much faster than they had expected. And to their own surprise, they recognized their– her– voice. She was hard to forget, really, because admittedly, she was one of their favorites. The Newbie, the first to truly find the End in their domain. (Their old domain. It wasn’t theirs anymore.) One with such promise, such potential. Of course now they’re rather glad she didn’t win. “Scar, where have you been?”

They forgot they were in place of the Successor, they forgot that was even his name. They tried to open their mouth to respond, but it turns out after spending what felt like centuries with their mouth made of literal stone, it was a bit harder to get words out. They were sure it’d be raspy anyway, from the misuse.

They remembered her name now, and vague recollections of Scar’s memories came back from when they Saw him. Her name was Gem. 

Gem frowned at his silence, and Scar– not Scar, they’re not Scar– tensed, worried that they’d already be found out within five seconds. 

“I won’t– I won’t push you into talking, Scar,” she said, to their surprise. She surveyed them with such concern that it made them discern… something. Guilt? Embarrassment? She continued, spurred on by them remaining silent. “It’s just– you’ve been gone for almost, uh, two months now. I think.”

They didn’t have to pretend to shudder at the time frame. 

It had been way longer than just two months.

Honestly, they really did try getting their mouth open to speak, to demand, but all they could manage were raspy grunts. Gem winced, yet kept her relatively calm demeanor. 

“It’s okay, I don’t want to force you.” She reaches over slowly, maybe so that if they wanted to back away, they would. They didn’t. It could have been because moving was so unknown, unfamiliar. Or because they regarded Gem as more than just trustworthy; as safe.

The touch burned before it felt like a regular mortal being was actually holding them. She gently encouraged them to move forward, for them to follow her, a smile now plastered on her face. 

 “Come on, Scar, let’s get you home, yea?” 

Home. 

In their last moments before the Successor took over, they remembered his last thoughts were wistfully praying that he’d be let go. Back to wherever here was, where they could pretend his past was long gone and have fun and play— not dangerous— games. Where they could have just a little company. 

The memory made them feel like something was twisting in their gut, their throat closing up with such a tightness it felt like they were forgetting how to breathe. They didn’t remember what that feeling was. But they needed to get rid of it, and Gem’s words were so warm, such a drastic change from the icy wind clawing at each part of them, threatening to freeze them over. 

Gem’s offer didn’t seem to hold the same malice, but when they tried to see into it, see her intentions, they were swiftly reminded their abilities were no longer with them. The similar sensation in their gut came back, and it screamed and yelled at them to run, to get far away. Logically, though, if they were to run, Gem would most likely catch them a lot easier than they’d like to admit. They were not used to having legs that— more or less— work. And if she wanted to kill them she would have already done so. 

So they nod, following her carefully after she takes her hand off their shoulder. She let go, and it still felt like it was there, still felt like it was burning, still felt like it was there to keep it burning. Gem’s touch wasn’t bad, at least they didn’t think so. They hadn’t had any contact with anyone or anything for so long, and perhaps that was why it felt so sudden. So much. They tried to trail behind her as best they could, only becoming more overwhelmed with each step. 

They’re not familiar with so much of this, so many textures, so many potential people around, so many so many so many—

It wasn’t her fault, really. 

She just kept leading on, adding little comments here and there. It was hard to keep paying attention to her when she wasn’t the only one making noise. Grass crunched from underneath them, water was crashing a little while away, Gem’s armor was rattling against itself with every step, there were probably people in the distance, not bothering to keep their voices down. 

Their vision got blurry after a while, their legs felt like mush. They didn’t think it had been that long, though that didn’t make them feel better. They could barely make out Gem’s face, her antlers being the only thing that they could really see. 

Everything was spinning around them, going too fast. Or it could have been that they were going too slow. It hurt to keep their eyes open, but the worry that if they closed them now, the worry it’ll be like before made them try so very hard to not blink.

And despite their best efforts, they felt the impact of hitting the ground before anything else.

And despite themself, they knew their eyes were rolling back into their head. 

At least it wasn’t everything all at once, but now it was— once again— nothing. 

.

.

.

.

They woke up, not expecting to be able to feel the softness of whatever they were laying on. They were laying down as well, a position they hadn’t been able to be in before. Though they half expected to be frozen like that, it was certainly a lot more comfortable now than it used to be. They didn’t try to move, at least not for a while, unsure they even could. 

They were talking about them. Not them. Well, maybe it was them technically, but it was still about Scar. The Scar they knew.

“—Just overwhelmed, maybe,” a voice— they could recognize once more as Gem— said, most likely contributing to a conversation that had already started. “I don’t know. He’s been gone for months.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m aware, Gem.” 

Grian. That voice belonged to Grian. They didn’t have the same excitement towards the man as maybe some of the Others did. They didn’t want to like Grian, and as much as They tried to make them favor him, they had leaned towards Gem. 

They thought she’d be smart enough to figure it out. Clearly, they had thought wrong.

They still weren’t moving, afraid to even try, and instead waded through the waters of their mind, through every crevice of newfound sensations, newfound thoughts. It still felt they weren’t their own, as if they were still rifling through someone else’s head. 

They couldn’t tell if they still felt like it was burning, and they were once again worried they were back there again because even with however many sensations their body may have been experiencing, it still felt so far away. 

They realized they were shaking. 

Which was good, they thought. Good that they could move, at least. They couldn’t think much of anything else when trying to refocus on Gem and Grian, whose voices had become slightly raised. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she huffed, inhaling sharply. “I am glad he’s back, I was just— concerned.”

“We all had this after the first Death Game, Gem. Scar shouldn’t feel more violent than, you know, he usually is.”

“But his eyes— even if they weren’t red— they were so empty.”

“Winning a game can be a lot. And Scar was by himself that whole time, even before his, uh, extended hiatus. I think we both know that Scar being alone isn't his favorite thing in the world.” 

“You— Okay, I can see that. I mean I think the Death Games can be a lot for anyone, just on its own. But sure.” She let out a long sigh, as if she hadn’t taken a breath throughout that entire conversation. “I care about him too, Grian. It’s not just you.”

They were both silent for a moment, and for a small second, they thought they had walked away. That was until Grian spoke.

“I know.” His voice was so soft, almost a whisper. “I know. I just— Let’s just make sure to make something fun for when he wakes up. Or at least a cup of water.”

Gem lets out a hum of agreement, and they can’t help but feel that pain in their chest. One that seems bad at first, yet seems to feel more comforting. Even as they hear the door being opened and closed, it remains.

It’s a feeling that, although they barely remembered anything, they know they craved and strived to have it. The feeling of being cared for, of knowing that you’re cared for. 

It was ridiculous, especially as they weren’t even Scar. It was only a matter of time before they found out, before they kicked them right back out for very justifiable reasons. And yet it was hard to deny the temptation of staying, just to feel wanted for even a little while. To have a connection with a real person, a real being. They know it won’t last, as things usually do, but they didn’t see why they couldn't savor this. 

It’s not theirs to savor, they know this. But there’s no one else to provide that connection to them anymore. Even if there was, they don’t remember. It’s frustrating how much they don’t remember, how much they remember about Scar more than they remember about themself. 

They knew they should say something, but the thought of being cast aside was enough to replace the feeling in their chest with a much heavier weight. 

They knew they weren’t Scar, but for now, they could pretend. 

They knew they would be forced to leave eventually, but for now, just for now, they could stay.

[graciegoeskrazy]

cause it all means nothing my dear

matty healy x teen!STEPDAUGHTER!r (bcuz I cant stop with new characters omfg)

warnings: ermmmm??? sad asf??? some fluff, not even angst just sad, loooooots of cryin, stepdad matty, queen mummy gab, ft George and stepdaughter!!!, she's about 17 in this, R IS 14

a/n: one of the saddest things I’ve ever written oop. as I've said before, I just moved to nyc for college and erm well busy is an understatement. i’m sorry for such a delay but i'm hoping to get back on track now. love ya.

Matty noticed the new house was far too quiet for it being a Friday night. Usually, music was blaring from his and your mom’s shared bedroom as she got ready for an event or party, or you would have friends sleeping over, bothering and tricking himself or your mom into doing whatever you wanted. Tonight was different though. It was quiet. Too quiet. When he walked up the stairs to check on the cause of the silence, a moment of stillness was rare recently. Between the new house with countless unpacked boxes, along with back-to-school and wedding planning, something was always happening in the Bechtel-Healy household.

When he approached the top of the stairs he was met with his fiance right outside your door, pacing. Her eyes met Matty’s. He tilted his head signaling her to explain as he walked forward.

She spoke in hushed whispers. “She won’t come out of her room! It’s been like 6 hours. She hasn't even eaten dinner!”

Matty glanced at the closed door next to them before going back to your mom. “Pre-teens do that, babe, I wouldn't worry.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip, pulling her slightly closer, trying to ease her worries.

“Yeah, well, not my pre-teen.”

Matty’s eyes shifted. “Do you reckon it’s about me?’

Gabby shrugged him off, “Nah, she tells me everything about that. This is something different.”

They were expecting this change to take some time to get used to for you. In fact, they would’ve been more scared if you didn’t show any signs of uncertainty. They knew they were moving fast, and expected some sort of hesitancy.

The silence that follows is heavy, 

The tension in the hallway is palpable as the conversation drifts to a standstill. You can hear the faint rustling of your mom’s clothes as she leans back against the door, her worry seeping through the wood. Matty shifts beside her, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced by something more uncertain.

“I kept trying to check on her but now she’s just avoiding me. I don’t know what to do.”

At this point, you had enough of the hushed whispers going back and forth between the two.

‘Is she sick?’

‘Did something happen at school?’

‘Is she getting bullied?’

‘Is she just on her period? You know she was pms-ing bad last month-’

“You know I can hear you both, right?”

The talking on the other side stops. The door is slowly opened and all you can hear is the creaking sound it makes when opened. “Heyyyy.” They both say with a slight smile. The funny act warms your heart and is enough to make you smile…just a bit.

“Hello.” You say. Plain. No meaning behind it.

Your mom opens up the door a little bit more as they walk in. You turn your attention to your phone. “Whatcha doin?” She asks.

“Cryin.” You say, trying to manage your sniffles.

“Why’s that?” She says sweetly. You don’t answer.

Matty speaks up now. “Y/n you can’t expect us to leave you alone when you come home sobbing your eyes out?”

Gabby nods, “We’re just worried, baby. That’s all.”

You put your phone down when tears start to form. You close your eyes in an attempt to stop them but it’s not enough. “Just go away. Please?” You whisper.

Their heart breaks at the sight of you. What could have possibly happened that causes you this much ache and pain? Matty tries to speak, “Honey-”

“Please?” You keep your eyes closed so you don’t see Matty and Gabby nod to each other and agree and make their exit. Not before adjusting your covers and planting a kiss on your forehead.

—-------

“I need help.” Matty says through the phone.

George’s voice rings through the other end. “You okay?”

“No,” Matty says.

George pauses, confused. “Okay, what’s up?”

“She’s freaking out, she came home crying, Gabby’s with her, I don't know how to be helpful.” He says rambling.

“Who?”

“Y/n, who else.”

George chuckles a bit. “Mhm, okay, and why are you calling me?”

Matty is genuinely filled with panic. “I don’t know! I mean, how did you and Mini Charli do this? How did you do this? This is terrifying.”

George laughs. “What? Taking care of pre-teens?”

“You know what I mean- having a step-daughter.” he says, almost whispering.

“You didn’t think to ask yourself that before you put a ring on her mom’s finger?”

He rolls his eyes. “Funny, very Funny. Of course, I did…and we’re chill but… I don’t know.” George just hums. “Bring the younger Charli ‘round. She’ll be more of a help.”

George agrees.“Baby! Come here. Someone’s ringing you.” As she meets George she grabs the phone, giving her step father a confused look.

“Yes?”

“I need your help.” Matty says.

She’s shocked to hear him on the other line. “Matty?”

“Yes, it’s Matty. I need your help.”

She sighs, “Mom says I can’t score you weed anymore, we talked about this.” she says, half joking, half serious.

“What?” George says.

She gives him a look before turning back to Matty. “Don’t worry about it- why do you need my assistance?”

“Y/n is upstairs crying and we don’t know what to do.”

“...Okay?”

“And I’m trying to be helpful but I’m absolutely clueless so please, tell me, how did you and George become besties?”

She laughs. “You’re only thinking about this now?”

“That’s what I said.” George chimes in.

Matty sighs again. “Just help me. Please?”

She thinks for a second then turns back to George. “Look away, I’m not saying good things about you to your face.” She playfully turns his cheek. “Well first off, she’s younger and way more smart than I was at her age when I went through all this so it’s different. Plus, we don’t have the same backstory.”

“What do you mean?”

“Matty, although, yes, my biological father left me, he was with me and then he left and then with me and then left and over and over and over again forever. Based on his pattern we could be expecting yet another knock on our door from him any day now. With Y/n, it’s different. Her dad was in the right state of mind and in that state of mind…he chose to leave her. Not only leave her but leave and never come back. He’s had 12 years to choose to come back and be a father, but he didn’t.”

Matty stayed silent, processing every world coming out of her mouth.

“Take it from me. It doesn’t matter what you do or what you say. Nothing will get rid of the awkwardness right away or the fact that whenever she thinks of you being her stepdad she thinks of yet another person she loves leaving.”

“But if I say I’m here for her and I’m not gonna leave she just shuts me out!”

“Because it’s probably not the first time someone like you has promised her that, Matty…”

That’s when it all clicked. “She’s willing to shut you out because she doesn’t want to get attached to someone who’s just gonna leave again.” He tried to let these words sink in. “What I’m trying to say is don’t try and be the cool dad, or the funny one, or any kind of dad at all. First and foremost, just be a friend. Then after that… you could be her dad. Just be the one who stays.”

—————

You stay curled up on your bed, the familiar comfort of your blankets wrapped tightly around you. The room is dim, the only light coming from the small lamp on your nightstand, casting soft shadows on the walls. You can still hear the faint echoes of your Mom and Matty’s conversation, but now, it’s just the quiet hum of the house around you.

There’s a knock at the door, gentle but firm, and your heart skips a beat. You don’t respond, hoping maybe they’ll just go away, leaving you to your thoughts. But then you hear Matty’s voice, low and careful, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“Hey, kiddo, it’s me,” he starts, his voice carrying a warmth that you’re not used to yet. “I know you probably don’t feel like talking right now, and that’s okay. I just... wanted to check on you, make sure you’re alright.”

You bite your lip, the lump in your throat growing as you try to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill over. The last thing you want is to open that door and face him, or anyone, right now.

“I’m not gonna push you to come out,” Matty continues, his tone gentle, almost soothing. “But if you need anything—literally anything at all—I’m right here. No questions, no judgment. Just... let me know, yeah?”

His words hang in the air, lingering like a promise. You stare at the door, torn between wanting to hide away forever and the small, nagging part of you that wonders if maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to open up a little. To let someone in.

But you stay silent, not ready to face the world yet. After a moment, you hear Matty sigh softly, as if he understands.

“Okay, well... I’m gonna leave some food outside your door, just in case you get hungry. And... we can talk whenever you’re ready. No rush.”

You hear him move away from the door, his footsteps retreating down the hallway. A few minutes later, the soft clink of a plate being set down echoes through the quiet, followed by the sound of Matty walking away.

You finally let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your mind swirling with a mix of relief and sadness. The breakup feels like a weight on your chest, too heavy to carry, and yet there’s a tiny flicker of comfort knowing that someone’s out there, ready to help you bear it if you let them.

But for now, you stay in your cocoon of blankets, trying to figure out how to piece yourself back together before you can face the world again.

—————

You decided enough was enough. You’re weren’t going to get any sleep anytime soon and 

After a brief moment of hesitation, you knocked. You heard a delicate “Come in,” from the both of them. You took a short breath and opened the door.

You were met with your mom in bed, scrolling on her phone, biting her nails, a habit she can’t seem to break, and Matty and the dresser across from the bed putting away laundry or something - you were too preoccupied with your emotions to care or think about it too much. Both sets of eyes softened at the sight of you. Your mother spoke first. “Oh, baby girl.” Opening her arms wide, prompting you to go to her. Matty wasn’t far behind, walking to the other side of the bed. You sobbed into your mother. You didn’t realize you had this many tears left. You didn’t realize that the feeling of ‘heartbreak’ was real. And you certainly didn’t expect to feel it now or in the way.

As your cries settled down, Matty and your mom shared worried glances back and forth. Your mom spoke. Soft but firm.

“Tell us what happened.”

You didn’t move. Just sat still. It felt like time was moving so fast for some reason, yet you were just sitting there. Your mind was completely thrown out of proportion. Especially after today. You spoke, voice more of a whimper than anything. “He got mad.”

Matty and Gabby shared matching looks. “Why?” He asked, finally speaking up.

“I can’t say- it‘s too embarrassing.”

“Did you not hear us every time we said ‘you can tell us anything’? It’s okay, y/n.” He said, rather quickly.

You sighed. “He got mad because I wouldn’t have sex with him.” You admitted through your tears, voice at a whisper.

You felt your mother’s heartbeat quicken. Out of anger or concern, you weren’t sure though. “What?”

“You’re joking.” Matty said, plainly. Neither of them could believe it.

After that you decided to sit up and take a breath. Laying against the headboard, knees to chest, cheeks stained with more tears than the pair had ever seen. Matty and your mother scooted closer to you. His hand on one of your knees, your mothers hand combing through your hair.

You talked quietly. “He kept saying that we’ve been dating for a while, he liked me, he could be with anyone else but he chose me, and he was mad that we had been dating for so long but I didn’t sleep with him.”

The pair couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Especially when they were talking about a teenager.

Your mother spoke up, in full Mom mode now. “Okay, first of all, if your boyfriend tries to make you feel good by saying ‘I could have anyone but I choose you’ you break up with him because you deserve way better than that. Second of all, you are fourteen! You shouldn’t be having sex with anyone!”

“I know! I never did- I swear-”

“I know, I know.” She said,

You sighed, “I don’t know what I could’ve done…”

Matty laughed slightly, “Well, I’ll tell ya, sleeping with someone to make them happy because they‘re frustrated is not the answer. And not at your age. You did the right thing, y/n.”

Your mom nodded, “You set a boundary. You made the responsible choice. He’s a dick and didn’t respect that.”

Your gaze drifted somewhere to the other side of the room. They noticed the way your tinted eyes started to fill with more tears.

“Oh, honey.” You mom said.

This time they both hugged you, engulfing you in a hug between them. You continued to sob for what felt like the millionth time. “This hurts. It really, really hurts.”

They both shared looks of worry. They didn’t know what to do or what to say to make this horrendous pain disappear, which was a first for your mother. Meanwhile all Matty could think to do was hold you tighter as your tears started to soak his shirt. At this point he started to wonder how George got through this part.

—————

You lay between them, asleep. Gabby played a movie on the TV for her and Matty to watch but the both of them never paid attention to it. Instead, just listen to it play in the background while they let you take up their thoughts. This was completely new, absolutely unexpected, and for the first time in a while, your Mom had no clear path or plan on how to help you. She had a few relationships but never have they ended like this. And, even though most if not all of Matty’s breakups were so complicated it would take a 10-page essay to explain all sides in full detail, never once had he cheated on a girlfriend. They were lost. Both of them wanted so desperately to take this pain away from you. You were a well-rounded child. The perfect daughter. The perfect friend. A straight-A student. And handled every ounce of pressure ever put on you like a pro, and every bad situation with grace as if it were second nature.

They just wished you would bounce back easily from this too.

Gabbriettes eyes shifted to the other side of the bed. You were fast asleep, the quiet snores coming from served proof, and neither of them wouldn’t dare to wake you up.

Her eyes finally met Matty’s. He looked lost, exhausted. His fingers mindlessly combed through your hair, gently to not wake you up. Your mom swears her heart grows a size every time she sees the two of you connect, even if it may be something as simple as this. For the short time you both have had, you two have grown a lot.

She doesn’t recognize the look on his face. It’s somewhere between sad and pissed, but she can’t quite place it.

“Whatcha thinking about?” She asks, shifting to sit on her elbows and looking at him.

Her voice takes him out of his thoughts but he doesn’t stop the movement of his hands. “About how I want to murder a child.” He says with a sigh, his gaze still pointed at you. She wants to laugh, but she feels the same way too. “I’m 35 and never have I once actually cheated on a girl. Especially not one as good as y/n. Especially not at fucking 14.”

She sighed and scooted closer. “I know…doesn’t mean you can murder him though.”

He pouted, making her smile.

“I didn’t know teenagers were this brutal.”

She laughed lightly, “Welcome to parenthood.”

He rolled his eyes. She didn’t miss his smile though. A genuine smile.

She continued, “I haven’t seen her like this in a long time. She’s really shaken up.”

Matty thought for a moment. “She has you though. She’ll be good as gold.”

She smiled. “She has us.”

[anxiousthoughts365]

Trust

'It's Pete.'

Remus froze, his hand just closed around the doorknob on the front door of their flat. He made himself turn back and look at Sirius. Truly look at him, for what felt like the first time in months. He could hear the hesitation in his own weary voice as he asked, 'What's Pete?'

'He's the secret keeper,' Sirius blurted. Remus felt his own eyes widen, and Sirius had the grace to look sheepish as he shuffled from one foot to the other. 'We swapped because we realised that I was the obvious choice.'

Remus blinked, his mind moving unusually slowly as he tried to process what Sirius was telling him. He was glad that they'd all managed to come to that conclusion - he'd had a similar thought himself when they'd first decided it. But he couldn't ignore the slight sting of disappointment that Peter had been chosen over him. It accounted for the sharp edge to his words when he bit out, 'Why are you telling me this?'

'Because I'm sick of living like this!' Sirius exploded, causing Remus' eyebrows to shoot up his forehead as the man flung his arms out in exasperation. 'I'm sick of tiptoe-ing around our home like I'm on eggshells. I'm sick of second-guessing and doubting. I'm sick if missing you, Moony.' With that last, Sirius sank in on himself, and his voice was cracked and raw as he looked at Remus pleadingly and asked, 'Aren't you sick of it all?'

And Gods, he was. He was sick of being away from home for days on end, and coming back to find Sirius quiet and wary. He was sick of going to bed alone every night and waking up to an empty flat. He was sick of the ache he felt in his chest every time he saw Sirius actively squash down the impulse to reach out for him, to wrap his slender arms around Remus and just hold on.

'I miss you too, Pads,' he choked out finally. 'I'm so tired of feeling like you don't trust me.'

Sirius' face fell, and he stepped forward, tentatively taking Remus' hand and ducking his head so that he could make Remus look at him.

'I told you,' he said quietly, his eyes dancing between Remus', searching. 'Years ago, I told you that the reason I knew I loved you was because I trusted you more than I'd ever trusted anyone. Even James. This war made me forget that. And I'm so sorry, Moony.' Sirius swallowed harshly, his silver eyes sparkling, but he squared his shoulders as he added, 'I still love you, just as madly as I did then. So that must mean that I still trust you more than anyone.'

Remus hiccuped around a sob as he finally let go of the door handle, and he turned into Sirius' waiting embrace, burying his face in the crook of his boyfriend's neck and letting himself cry. Sirius' arms wrapped around him and held him tight, and he cried harder at the reminder of just what he'd been missing for so many weeks.

But just as he was trying to pull himself together, with the thought that he could easily sack off tonight's mission in favour of taking Sirius directly to bed to right a few more wrongs, another thought struck him, and he straightened to stare down at Sirius.

'What is it?' The shorter man asked, concern pulling at his brow at whatever he saw in Remus' expression.

'I haven't heard from Pete for a few days.' Remus thought back to the last conversation he'd had with their friend, and his heart plummeted into his stomach. 'And the last time I spoke to him, he was telling me that you had been acting weird and secretive lately, and that I should keep an eye on you.'

The sour, angry look on Sirius' face spoke volumes, even before he growled, 'Funnily enough, he and I had a similar conversation about you a few days ago. That little rat has been playing us off each other! Just wait til I get my hands on -'

'You can do whatever you want to him when we find him,' Remus muttered, fear suddenly flooding him as he reached for Sirius' hand. 'Right now, we have to get to Lily and James.'

Sirius' face turned ashen, but he nodded, and tightened his grip on Remus' hand as the werewolf let out a steadying breath before stepping forwards, Appparating them directly to Godric's Hollow.

[steodraws]

Snowfall(ing in love) 🎄

bada x fem reader

disclaimers: short fluff fic just for christmas! please keep in mind that im not a native english speaker, thank you. enjoy! ❤️

Summary: "Sorry, love, i won't be able to spend Christmas with you" are the words you read on your phone from Bada. Your girlfriend mentioned she won't be able to spend Christmas with you, leaving you quite disappointed. After all, it isn't just Christmas; it's your 3-year anniversary together. Frustrating, right? Unless...

WC: 1.2k

"What?!" A high-pitched gasp echoes through the diner.

"Lusher, chill," i utter, covering my ears in response to the shout while attempting to ease my own frustration.

"What do you mean... she won't be here for Christmas night? I mean... She didn't even spend the day with you today" Minah inquires, assertive. It's like everyone got hit by the message i just read.

Bada and i have been together as a couple for 3 years, and through her, i got to know Lusher, Minah, and Sowoen; they've become my close friends since then.

We decided to come to a small diner before diving into the preparations for the upcoming festivities; the year flew by, and today is already December 25th. It feels like time zoomed in a flash.

I was looking forward to this Christmas, as today is the anniversary of my relationship with Bada as well. The issue is that she just messaged saying she can't make it.

Ugh, I'm really frustrated. I mean, i get it—I'm trying to be understanding, especially with her crazy & packed schedule over the past few months. But, come on, it's such a special date and she hasn't even seen me today...

I attempt to shake off the disappointment, taking a deep breath as i glance around at the faces of my friends, each wearing a mix of concern and sympathy.

"Maybe there's a reason she can't make it," Sowoen suggests, trying to ease the tension in the air.

I nod, appreciating the attempt to find a silver lining. "Yeah, she's been swamped with work lately."

Minah raises an eyebrow, "But Christmas, of all days?"

I sigh, realizing the weight of the situation. "I know, it's just... it's our anniversary too."

Lusher, who has been visibly on edge, finally speaks up, "Look, we're here for you. Maybe she's just really busy after all."

I force a small smile, touched by their support. "Yeah, maybe..."

Finishing my drink, i glance at the clock; it's nearly 8 in the evening. Christmas is almost over.

"Well, i must go now; thanks for the company, ladies!" I flash a smile as i stand to hug everyone.

"Already? Hang out a bit more. You can join us for the rest of Christmas if you want!" Sowoen suggests in her sweet and eloquent voice.

"No need! Enjoy it, and tell me what you got as presents later!" I warmly reply.

"If you need anything, hit us up," Lusher affirms while giving me a tight hug.

I give a final wave and leave the establishment; grabbing my keys from the bag, i open the car to head home.

With the snow starting to fall, the road becomes increasingly tricky to navigate. However, it's not a big deal, as i manage to reach my home safely.

Still disappointed about spending this important date alone, i enter the building's elevator, heading to the floor of my apartment. Upon arriving in front of the door, i spot a note.

"Knock on the door 3 times and close your eyes! :)"

"What the...?" I mutter to myself. Had my friends prepared something? Nonetheless, i decided to follow the instructions.

"Knock, knock, knock"

Three knocks on the door, and i keep my eyes shut, waiting for what will happen next.

I can feel the door opening accompanied by a faint, familiar laughter.

"Open your eyes~"

Upon finally opening my eyes, the first sight before me is Bada, with a mischievous smile and an expression of "I fooled you good" emanating from her face. She's grinning, her medium-length hair adorned with pink highlights and small braids. My girlfriend hadn't forgotten our anniversary, after all.

"Bada...? But..." i stammer, slightly perplexed, directing my gaze towards the decoration.

It's as if i stepped into a massive Christmas-themed store; a huge tree, meticulously decorated and lit up, stands out in the corner of the room. Lights and twinkling decorations everywhere, thoughtfully arranged. Paper hearts and garlands adorn the walls, accompanied by lovely post-its stuck with the message "Our 3-year anniversary." The dining table, beautifully set, occupies the center.

A carefully selectedd playlist fills the room with a variety of songs, from "Understand - Keshi" to "double take - dhruv."

Honestly, i'm mesmerized by everything, unsure whether to admire the decoration or Bada. I am on the verge of tears; i truly didn't expect all of this.

"Merry Christmas and happy anniversary to us, my love." Bada wraps me in her long arms while planting small kisses on my cheeks and nose.

We linger in the embrace for a few seconds; her hug is so comforting, i wish i could stay in it forever.

"Did you like the surprise, sweetheart?" she asks casually, holding my hand while pointing to the post-its and other messages.

"Of course! But hey, you didn't have to fool me like that... I was hurt!" I playfully punch her shoulder, and she just laughs, as it probably didn't make much impact; after all, I'm not one of the strongest.

"But it was worth it, wasn't it? Lusher, Minah, and Sowoen helped me organize everything."

"They're in on this? Oh, I'll end those girls the next time i see them," i say, jokingly, surprised by the revelation. I really thought they weren't part of this.

"Hey, they made all of this possible ~ without them, it would have been dull," she says, still laughing at the situation. "Let's eat; i prepared everything especially for you."

She gives a swift kiss upon my lips before arranging the table. Bada had meticulously prepared various dishes, and from a distance, i could spot a cake that seemed to be green tea-flavored.

"It looks delicious!" I exclaim, my mouth watering.

"Before we eat, i wanted to give you this," she gazes at me intently and pulls a medium-sized box from her pocket. "You can open it."

"What is it?" I inquire, fixing my eyes at the present, opening it.

Inside, i find a beautiful necklace with a small diamond pendant, accompanied by a polaroid photo of us from our last Christmas/New Year's trip.

I love you, truly. You mean everything to me, love. I am the happiest person in the world when you're right next to me. Christmas after Christmas, year after year, we'll be together. The youngest days of my life are when I'm with you," she confesses genuinely, and i truly feel that every word she utters is sincere.

Once again, tears stream down my cheeks. I am at a loss for words. My veins feel like they might burst from sheer happiness. I feel so grateful to have someone so kind by my side.

"Bada... I don't know what to say... I really love you so much," i articulate, my voice choked and trembling, admiring everything she has done for me not just today, but throughout these three years we've been together.

"Hey, don't cry," she rises up and rushes to hug me once again, that warm sensation returning. She caresses my neck with one hand while gently wiping away my tears with the other.

Outside, snow is falling; i can hear some neighbors enthusiastically wishing Merry Christmas as the day seems to end, and fireworks are lighting up the whole sky.

"Season after season, i shall be here for you. Merry Christmas, my lovely princess," Bada whispers in my ear, and our lips meet gently—a tender and soft kiss filled with affection on that festive Christmas night.

[🎄] thank you so much for reading! i hope you liked this christmas special. merry x-mas and stay safe everyone <3 kisses from ste~

[coeurify]

imagining eating ellie out while she’s smoking a joint and the second she’s holding her inhale is when u take her clit into her mouth, causing her to let out a shaky breath MMMMM I NEED IT (this paired with her being submissive in a dom cokcy way is Crazzzyyyyyyy PLSSSSSS)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ under the cut. weed mentions, oral!ellie receiving, slightly bratty reader, ellie is (literally) weak in the knees for reader but still has the dominance.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hii gorgeous i love love this lemme write about it a bit. added a lil bit of bratty reader to add upon the dom but sub thing in my own way heh.

You deserved your current situation. Honestly, you had brought it upon yourself. Being a brat all day just to spite your girlfriend into giving you attention. It ended up working completely in your favor, as it always did. Ellie may have the power, but you tend to pull all the strings.

Your knees rub against the carpet as you shuffle closer to where Ellie is sitting on the couch, legs spread to let you settle in between them.

“Just wanted to go have a smoke with my friends,” Ellie scoffed. You watch through your lashes as she pulls out her lighter and the flame flickers to life. She used it to light the joint she had just rolled, forced to stay home and smoke alone after hours full of you acting up. “Couldn’t even let me have that, could you?”

Maybe it was the comments loud enough for Dina and Jesse to hear when they stopped by your place earlier that caused her to stay. Comments that had something to do with Ellie owing you something she wrings out of you every night. It had flushed Ellie enough that she had to turn around, glaring at you and shoo-ing you away. Perhaps it was you grabbing at her and trying to kiss the back of her neck behind a hidden sliver of the door when Jesse had stopped by again to ask Ellie to smoke with him and Dina. Or maybe the breaking point had been you prancing around the small Jackson house in one of her t-shirts and underwear, right before she was meant to leave.

It didn’t really matter, minutes before she was set to leave she had mumbled something along the lines of “fuck it,” and forced you to your knees under her. You did so happily, feigning annoyance when she decided you would have to eat her out while she smoked on the couch, denying you of the actual result you were looking for— to be fucked. This was just as good in your eyes however, and you licked your lips the moment your already bruised knees hit the ground.

You only nod when she speaks, pushing your lip into a faux pout. “ ‘M sorry Ellie..” you whine, not really meaning it. Especially not while you lean forward to shimmy Ellie’s jeans and underwear down her thighs, leaving them at her ankles.

“No the fuck you aren’t,” Ellie muttered, green eyes flicking down to you while she placed the now lit joint into her mouth, taking a small hit and blowing it down in your direction. You blink away the stinging feeling, a hand coming to rub at your eyes. The sight causes a muffled chuckle to fall from the other’s lips.

You try to argue back, something you are very good at, but she cuts you off the moment your lips part. “Just get to it before my joint finishes,” Ellie bites, sealing your lips again. The demand sends that delicious high feeling swirling through your stomach and mind, you love nothing more than when Ellie gets like this.

Well, maybe one thing. That being the exact sound that pierces your ears the moment you bring your face forward to Ellie’s slit, placing an experimental lick straight over it— the slight hitch in her breath.

If you brought it up your girlfriend would deny it till she was blue in the face, claiming it was from too big of a puff of smoke. Ellie didn’t like any sign of loss of control in these situations, but the little noises you always get from her challenge that idea.

Your hands reach to grip each of her thighs, pushing you into a better angle to get deeper, still only gracing her with small kitten licks. You knew she wanted to drag this out, and so you gave her that.

When your eyes strain to look up at her, Ellie looks relaxed. Her messy hair falls perfectly against the side’s of her face, the hand not being used to smoke is lazily placed over the back of the couch. After another hit, she meets your eyes— looking so unbothered you begin to believe she may have found a new way to avoid the little slip ups your mouth always brings upon.

It encourages you to try harder, lapping at the wetness you found, nails scratching slightly over her skin in the way you know she loves. She still just takes lazy drags and mumbles a soft, “atta girl..”

You may be getting more openly worked up than her at this point. You’re desperate to get more of her on your tongue, shifting your legs to try and feel more friction on your own needy center. It’s too easy for you to fall into this drunken state of whining against her pussy, as if it was you being pleasured. Making her feel good always did this, sends you into a craze. But you try your best to stay quiet, wanting to hear more of your girlfriend’s noises instead.

After what feels like eons of the only noises being your own wet tongue against her, something happens. You watch as she takes a breath of her joint in, holding it in her mouth for a second. Using this as your opportunity you finally move your lips upwards, sucking her clit into your mouth, hard.

You can feel her hips twitch just a bit, and like music to your ears— she has to let out her breath early. It's shaky, you can hear it even from your downward position. Ellie stutters over her exhale, and it sends a new wave of arousal right through you. This was a win for you, even as she tries to calm her breathing to take another hit. Her cheeks are red with embarrassment at the sound, and it pushes you further into your mission.

You continue your steadfast attack on her clit, hoping to draw even more of those lovely sounds from Ellie, who you know is trying desperately to deny you of them. To regain a sense of power, her open hand moves to grip at your hair, pressing you further into her.

[doctorstethoscope]

You Are In Love || Aaron Hotchner x Reader

hiiiii friends <333 just wanted to write a little somethin'-somethin' in honor of 1989 TV, hope you all enjoy and everyone say thank you @hotchs-bitch for beta-ing

contains: minor angst, food consumption, reader wears a dress

word count: 4.6k

It’s late, you realize in the middle of your third yawn in as many minutes. You should be back in your tiny, musty hotel room, trying to get a few hours of sleep before your investigation kicks back off in earnest in the morning. You’re in the middle of some desert town in Arizona, where nothing like this string of murders has ever happened before; you’re determined to get to the bottom of it. 

Hotch is too, and that’s a big part of the reason you’re still here, you’re not too proud to admit. 

“Go ahead back to the hotel,” He’d told you a few hours earlier. “You can hitch a ride with Reid and Prentiss.”

“I could go,” you said, a playful lilt in your tone you could only let out when the two of you were alone. “But then who would make sure you ever went to sleep tonight?” You asked cheekily. You and Hotch were still a relatively new thing, only about four months into seeing each other. But given how well you already knew each other and how much time the two of you spent together, it felt like much longer. 

You’re adjusting into your seat, preparing to read over your case summary one more time when all of the overhead lights in the precinct go out, leaving you and Aaron in the dim glow of the emergency lights from the floor. You reach out for his hand instinctively, and he takes it in yours, looking over at you as he gives it a reassuring squeeze. He shifts into Agent Mode almost simultaneously, scanning the room for danger even as he looks to calm you.  He’s relieved from duty a few moments later when Chief Morrison, who you’d met earlier in the day, enters the room and flicks the switch. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he says. “We don’t usually have the buildings fully staffed this late into the night and the lights are on a timer.” 

“That’s not a problem,” Hotch answers easily, his hand subtly unlinking itself from yours. “We were just leaving. We’ll be back in a few hours.” 

“Don’t you ever sleep?” He asks with a raise of his eyebrows. 

“We make do with very little when something this serious is at stake,” Aaron explains. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

Chief Morrison leaves the two of you to pack up your things, and Aaron leads you out the door of the precinct with a comforting hand placed to your back. 

********

“Do you ever think about our first date?” You ask Aaron in the confines of his office one night as the two of you are preparing to go home.

Aaron’s brow furrows, not entirely understanding your question. “I mean, sure, I think about it occasionally, and about all the dates after, and how much I enjoy all of the time we spend together. Why do you ask?” 

“I just… it feels silly to admit it now, but I was so nervous, I feel like I almost hardly remember it. Like time was moving so quickly that I didn’t have time to commit it all to memory, and I wish that I had,” you tell him as you extricate yourself from the couch in his office and meet him in the doorway.

“D’you want me to perform a cognitive interview?” he jokes as he helps you into your winter coat, smoothing the wool over your back and then fastening the buttons for you. You could do it yourself, you both know this, but he’s tactile, and his touch is so tender and so warm that you could never push his hands away when he cares for you like this.

“No, I think that’s one line that you and I shouldn’t cross,” you tease him as he checks to make sure the coast is clear before the two of you walk out to your car. 

“You wore a very beautiful castleton green silk dress, and gold sandals. We split a bottle of wine at Le Clou. You laughed charitably at a stupid joke I made, and I made it my life’s goal to hear that sound as often as possible. I could barely finish my dinner because I didn’t want to stop looking at you. We took a walk after dinner, and we talked about everything and nothing at all, and after I drove you home, I walked you to your door and kissed you goodnight. It was a perfect evening,” he refreshes your memory as you walk through the parking garage. 

“Sounds like it,” you smile up at him shyly. 

He smiles back down at you. “We’re just getting started,” he whispers into your temple before dropping a kiss there to punctuate his sentence.

********

“Did you like boarding school?” You ask Hotch as he speeds down the freeway in Ohio. 

“What?” He asks, a little bewildered. 

“You went to boarding school, right? For a couple years in high school?” 

“Yes, I did. That’s not the source of my confusion,” he shakes his head. “We’re trying to find an arsonist and you want to know how I felt about boarding school?” 

“We’re an hour into this drive, still have an hour in front of us, and the radio sucks in Ohio,” you groan. “Indulge me.” 

“Did you like high school?” He asks, as if that’s an answer. 

“I mean, I didn’t hate high school,” you shrug.

Morgan calls with a new lead, interrupting your conversation, and you shoot him a glance over the center console, one that says this conversation isn’t finished, even though you had to put it aside to work for a few hours.. 

You end up separating once you reach Morgan– Hotch goes to investigate the lead and you head back to the site of the most recent burn to see if you can lose anything. The next time you see him, the two of you are preparing for a late-night stakeout at what you suspect will be the unsub’s next location. 

“We’re locked in with eyes on the back door,” Hotch mutters into a police radio as you settle into the passenger seat. It’s set to be a long night.

“Hold on,” Hotch says to you as he twists in his seat, reaching for something in the back. “I brought coffee,” he says, producing a thermos and a couple of cups. He pours one for you and you drink it gratefully as he makes his own cup. It’s good– too good, almost.

“Did you put my creamer in here?” You ask. 

“They had some at the station, I asked if it was okay if I used it,” he explains. 

“You drink black coffee, Aaron Hotchner. It’s a known law of the universe. The sun rises from the East. The tide comes in with the moon. Aaron Christopher Hotchner drinks black coffee.” 

He shrugs. “I’m not that picky, really.” 

You roll your eyes. “You’re too good to me,” you say, leaning back into your seat as you take another sip of your coffee. You’re fiddling with your necklace, watching the street lights reflect off of it and make patterns on the ceiling of the car when he speaks up again.

“I didn’t really like boarding school at the time, but I think it was good for me.” He answers your question from about 12 hours earlier. 

“Tell me about it,” you smile, taking his hand in yours and giving it a squeeze. 

********

You’re sitting in Aaron’s bed reading a book when it hits you for the first time. He emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, steam billowing from the open door to the en suite. You’re trying to be subtle but you can’t help but sneak a peek as he rifles through his dresser drawers for some suitable pajamas— not that you’d mind at all if he forewent them entirely. He tosses his clothes on the bed and changes quickly, and while you resist the urge to stare, you can feel his eyes on you. He comes to your side of the bed and leans over you. 

“Look up,” he instructs gently, and you comply. He brings one gentle finger to brush over the skin just underneath your eye, concentrating with all of the attention of a man who regularly holds people’s lives in his hands as a part of his job. “Eyelash,” he explains, showing you the culprit so you could blow it away. You look at him as you do so, his face so full of something that is equal parts content and exuberantly joyful that the thought comes to you before you can stop it, loud and consuming in the silence of your bedroom.

“I think I might really love this guy.” 

********

You wake up first the next morning, which is entirely unlike you. Your stomach grumbles loudly a few moments later, giving you a clue as to why you’re up so early. You slip out of bed as silently as you can, grabbing Aaron’s discarded button down from yesterday to throw over your shoulders as you pad down to the kitchen.

You may have gotten a little too ambitious with breakfast, you realize as you smell the toast burning. At least the bacon and pancakes are unharmed, you think as you turn towards the toaster, jumping a little when you see Aaron there.

“I didn’t hear you get up,” you say as he plucks the crisp toast out of the toaster. 

“I can be pretty sneaky when I have to be,” he teases you with a little smile before giving you a quick peck on the lips. 

“You don’t have to eat that, there’s pancakes,” you tell him as he reaches for the butter. 

“I don’t mind it,” he shrugs. “Did you start coffee?” 

You shake your head. “It’s better when you make it.” 

 He smirks at you, tapping at your hip to silently ask you to move so he can get to the coffee pot and start it. “Did you still want to go to the National Portrait Gallery this weekend?” He asks as the two of you sit down at the table.

“I do, but I know it’s not your thing. I don’t mind if—”

“I want to go with you. I told you I’d come,” he reminds you.

“I know, I just didn’t want you to think I was holding you to it,” you say, a little foolishly, knowing that there’s no one out there who makes Aaron Hotchner do something he truly doesn’t want to do.

“I’m a man of my word,” he reminds you, reaching for your hand and squeezing it. “It doesn’t have to be ‘my thing,’” he insists. “It’s important to me because it’s important to you.” 

He keeps a hand on you the whole time you walk through the gallery– whether it's on your hip, around your waist, or entwined with your own. He’s certainly not the first man to hold you, but it feels… different, when it’s him. Like you’re being treasured, rather than possessed. Like you’re a partner, not an accessory. It feels nice.

“We’ve got a good thing going, you and I. Don’t you think?” You ask him as the two of you leave the gallery. 

“I’d certainly say so,” he smiles. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

“It’s been a really, really lovely five months,” you tell him.

“It feels like there’s a but coming,” he says, a twinge of anxiety in his tone. 

“Not so much a but…” you try to assure him. “I’m just… scared. Not of you, I guess, but… I’ve been more guarded in other relationships. And I’ve still gotten hurt. I don’t want to be that way with you– but I can’t help but feel like the more I let you in, the more I’m ensuring it will hurt when you leave.”

Aaron stops in his tracks, pulling you into a quiet spot in a park alongside the sidewalk where you’d been walking.

“I have a couple points to make, the first and most important of which is the idea of me leaving being a sure thing,” he says, and he doesn’t sound mad, just concerned. You feel a little guilty anyways. He takes your chin in between his pointer finger and his thumb, tilts your gaze up to look at him. “I wouldn’t be here now if I was looking for a path out,” he promises. “We can’t stop other people from hurting us— as much as we both wish that all were true. I won’t pretend I haven’t thought about how wrecked I’d be if you left. But all we can do is trust ourselves to be able to pick up the pieces if we do get hurt.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, and it does make you feel a little bit better– at least that he’s had some of the same worries. 

“And I’d ask you to trust me, too. I’m sorry if past partners have made that hard for you,” he says. “But I intend to be gentle with you, and to stay, even when it gets hard. For as long as you’ll keep me around.” 

You rise to your tiptoes and kiss him, right there on the sidewalk. 

********

“Are you insane?” You yelled. It had started as a civil conversation, or at least something resembling it, at least, about Hotch’s unilateral decision to enter a known hostage situation without backup. You need to calm down, you know this. The team is still in the bullpen, just down the stairs from his office, and the glass isn’t soundproof.

“Please don’t speak to me that way,” Aaron says, so calm that it triggers another level of rage you didn’t even know you had locked up. 

“I’m sorry, Aaron, but I’m going to need more of an explanation for today than ‘I had it handled,’” you demand.

“No, you really don’t. I am your superior, and I made a call. It’s your job to respect it, and if you can’t do that, I can sign your voluntary request for a transfer,” he spits out, and you’re almost too stunned to speak. 

“I cannot believe you even suggested that,” you hiss out. “I cannot believe this. You may be my boss, Aaron, but I thought I was your partner.” You call out as you swing his office door open, realizing then that the whole team had been listening. That was absolutely not how you wanted them to find out about the two of you. You rush down the stairs, brushing off JJ when she tries to comfort you, making a beeline for the door. It’s only when you get to the garage when you realize that Hotch drove you in today. Goddamn him. You call an Uber, heading back to your own apartment for the first time in weeks.

You knew it, you think to yourself as you dig into the pint of Phish Food that you’d bought yourself for dinner. You knew that he’d hurt you if you let him in far enough. That’s just how the world works; it’s a cycle of letting your guard down and learning why you shouldn’t. God, maybe you do need to transfer. You have no clue how you’re going to go back to work on Monday. 

A knock on the door of your apartment distracts you from your train of thought. It’s probably your neighbor, Mrs. Landingham, wondering why you haven’t been around for weeks. You swing the door open, expecting to find five feet and two inches of sweet old lady, and instead revealing a much taller man who clearly knows he’s in the doghouse.

“Can we talk?” He asks with pleading eyes.

“I’d really rather not,” you grumble. 

“Please,” he begs, and you relent, stepping aside to let him in. “I was unfair in the office. I’m sorry.”

“It was pretty unfair of you to walk into an active hostage situation with an armed unsub, too,” you grouse as you put the lid back on your ice cream and put it in the freezer, allowing him to follow you to the kitchen.

“You’re right. I owe the whole team an apology for that,” he admits.

“The argument can’t just be over because you’ve decided that I’m right about everything,” you complain.

“You weren’t right about everything. But you also didn’t have all the information, and you’re owed that,” he explains.

“I’m listening.” 

“The woman… her name was Haley, and she had a young kid inside with her, and I just…” 

He trails off, and suddenly any fiber of anger you had left within you evaporates into thin air. “Oh, honey,” you say, moving to wrap your arms around his waist. “You’re right. I knew, of course, but there was so much happening so quickly and I didn’t put all the pieces together.”

“That doesn’t mean I was right. Especially as a leader, I should have been able to put that aside.”

“And as your partner, I completely understand why you couldn’t.” 

“If you still want some space, I completely understand. I just couldn’t go to bed knowing there was so much unsaid here.”

You shake your head. “Take me home, please.”

********

You envy Aaron’s ability to just fall asleep anywhere. He tells you it will come with time, that enough nights on the road and away from home due to the job will toughen you up, make it possible to doze standing up if you have to. For now, you were left staring at the ceiling of yet another hotel room. 

His gentle snores from next to you help to soothe the wounds a little. You’d been together for a little over six months now, and you both agreed that things were serious and that it made sense to tell the team. Now that the cat is out of the bag, there’s no need to sneak around or spend the night in separate hotel rooms. 

Aaron stirs, and you look over at him, wondering if you should pretend to be asleep yourself. You decide against it, or, rather, you’re too enamored with the way the lines of his face all relax in sleep to remember to close your own eyes before his open. 

“You’re not sleeping,” he says, halfway between a statement and a question. 

“I tried melatonin, but I think I may need something a little stronger,” you admit. 

He makes a little face, one that you think is maybe him finding you endearing, and starts to sit up. “I packed Z-Quil for you, it’s in my backpack.” 

“Don’t get up,” you tell him, slipping out of his grasp to reach for his backpack. “You’re too good to me.” 

He waits for you to be back in bed, back in his arms, before he speaks again. “You’re my best friend. You know that?” 

He’s gazing down at you with so much tenderness that it almost hurts; the words he’s not saying are so clearly spoken by the look in his eyes that you can’t possibly help but defuse the tension with a kiss and a joke.

“For the perks I’m giving you, I’m one hell of a best friend,” you tease.

********

The lack of sleep catches up to you the next day after the case has closed. It’s early, only about 7pm when you’re flying home, but you just can’t keep your eyes open. You’re not quite getting restful sleep; you can still hear Rossi and Reid’s chess game and you’re aware of how silly you must look curled up into the jet window. However, you can’t be bothered to care, especially when you feel Hotch drape a blanket over you– you know it’s the one he keeps stowed in one of the cabinets by the kitchen. It smells like his fabric softener. You tuck the corner of the blanket into your chin and smile.

You sleep soundly for the rest of the flight home, and Aaron doesn’t even let you stop back in at your desk;  he just brings you to his car and leaves you nestled in the passenger seat for a moment so he can drop both of your things off.

“This is silly, Aaron. You don’t need to baby me,” you tell him when you get back to the car. 

“You slept for maybe five hours in the last three days. I certainly do need to baby you,” he insists as he pulls out of the parking lot, putting the radio on low on the acoustic station that you like. 

Despite your insistence that you’re fine, you fall asleep again on the ride home, and you don’t have any energy left to argue when he tells you to just head up to bed when you get back to the house. He detours into the kitchen but you don’t think much of it, knowing he must be hungry. You rouse when you hear him at your bedside table a few minutes later— in the dark of your bedroom, you can see that he’s left a peanut butter and jelly and some saltine crackers for you— knowing that you’re likely to wake up starving in the middle of the night. You roll over, reaching for him the moment he lowers himself to the bed and pressing a sleepy kiss to his shoulder.

********

“I can’t believe I’m wearing this to a holiday party. We need to take Jack to Alaska. Or the North Pole. We can’t have Christmas in weather like this,” you pout as you adjust the spaghetti strap of the dress you put on for the FBI’s holiday party.

“This is Virginia. It happens,” Aaron tries to console you as he places a hand on the small of your back to lead you out the door and to the car. “Besides, there’s snow in the forecast for Christmas Eve.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you grumble as you settle into the passenger seat of Aaron’s SUV, peering at the display. “It’s literally in the mid-sixties, Aaron! It’s balmy. We may as well live in Florida.” 

He doesn’t respond verbally, just takes your hand in his and brings the back of your palm to his lips to place a brief kiss there before bringing your joined hands back down to rest on the center console.

You meet up with the rest of the team as soon as you get to the party, finding the BAU’s assigned table and sitting for dinner. Aaron makes the rounds to shake hands with some of the higher-ups before the first course, but you’re  more than happy to sit and chat with the girls while he did so.

After dinner is always dancing, which usually started slow and got rowdier as the night went on and the upper brass filtered out.  You’ve just wrapped up a dance with Rossi when Aaron wraps a hand around your wrist. 

“Come with me,” he says, urgent but not anxious.

“Come with you where?” You ask.

“Just come on,” he says, guiding you gently towards a door. He guides you to the courtyard, towards the gazebo. You can hear the music from the ballroom faintly in the background as he places a hand on your waist to lead you in a dance.

“Are you scared to dance with me in front of people?” You asked with a sarcastic little smile. 

He scoffs. “Just you wait.”

“Wait for what, exactly?”

“You are so impatient,” he teases as he dips you by the waist. As he lifts you back up, you see what you were waiting for— big, fat, snowflakes, falling slowly towards the ground. They melt as soon as they make contact with the ground, but that doesn’t matter. 

“Oh,” you let out a satisfied little gasp. “It’s just perfect,” you say as the two of you spin again. 

“Told you It’d be worth it,” he smirks.

“How did you know this was coming?” 

He shrugs. “Christmas miracle.” You level him with a glance and he comes clean. “I can read a radar map, angel. We’ve got maybe one more song before this turns to rain.” 

You look around, taking it all in before you have to run for cover. “It’s like we’re in a snowglobe,” you smile. 

“Like I said,” Aaron repeats. “Christmas miracle.”

********

You don’t like to brag, but your coworkers were all badasses. You went toe-to-toe with serial killers, interviewed convicts, got into the heads of the world’s worst individuals. But you all had the exact same soft spot, and her name was Penelope Garcia.

Which is how the monthly BAU Book Swap came to be. You all circled up in the conference room and talked about what you’d read over the last month, and pulled a name out of a hat to see whose book you’d go home with. 

“Hold on!” you say as Garcia prepares to start. I need a highlighter, give me one second.” 

Hotch’s office is closer than your desk, so you trot down the hall and pull at his lap drawer. As you do so, you look up at his desk space, seeing a new addition— a picture of the two of you from a recent weekend away in a silver frame. You let out a deep sigh of gratitude as you grabbed a blue highlighter from his stash and headed back to the conference room. “Sorry, carry on,” you said as you reached for Aaron’s hand under the table, giving it a little squeeze.

You ended up pulling Spencer’s name out of the hat, and you almost hold your breath as you wait to see what he’d read this month. 

“I read the Odyssey,” he tells you, and you swallow thickly before he continues. “But, honestly, I didn’t really like it that much. So I brought a copy of the Hobbit for the swap.” 

“I have to admit I’m a little bit relieved,” you tell him. “What didn’t you like about it?” 

“I just had a hard time buying into it,��� he admits. “I mean, are we really supposed to believe that the love of one person started an entire war between Greece and Troy?” 

You look at Hotch across the room, deep in conversation with Morgan about his pick. “I believe it, Spence.”

******** 

You’re making dinner together when the words start to slip out of you. “Can I say something?” You ask. 

“Of course you can,” Aaron says, looking up from his chopping. “Something good, or something bad?”

“No, no,” you dismiss any worry he might have. “Something good. I, uh. It feels almost silly to say it. Especially now, with nothing going on, just the two of us making dinner,” you ramble. You’ve tried to phrase this perfectly in your head a million times. “I wanted to tell you exactly right,” you say. You weren’t planning to just let it tumble out of you as you stirred a pasta sauce. “Except, I’m not sure if I even need to say it out loud, because it’s just so… known? Between us. Like I don’t even need to say it, because it’s so obvious. But it feels like one of those milestones, one of those things that’s supposed to make me feel exactly as nervous as I feel right now, so I guess I’m supposed to tell you—”

“I’m in love with you, too,” Aaron says as he sprinkles a little bit of basil into the sauce you’re stirring.

You’re too stunned to speak for a moment, the only sound you’re able to make is a confused “What?”

He stops in his tracks. “I am so sorry– was that not what you were—”

“No, no, it was,” you insist. 

“I should have let you go first,” he apologizes.

You laugh. “No,” you assure him. “No, that was perfect. I’m in love with you,” you say it aloud for good measure. You know that you don’t have to.

tagging: @spacecowboyhotch @honeybrowne @angelfxllcm @rousethemouse @infinite-tides @gspenc @anlin2058 @zetasaturno99 @realdirectionx @witheldclouds @sbeno22 @el-vs94 @hausofwhores

[winniemaywebber]

The Apple Tree • Part 7

read previous chapter here

(gif by @hephaestn)

Rosie and Y/N make a decision about their relationship.

A sweet breeze ripped through the trees, the May weather finally rearing its head between inconsistent cold snaps. The children were grateful for it, the sun shining in their faces once again. One of the greatest joys in life was seeing them run madly through the fields, the sunshine turning their pale skin a delicious golden brown color. Another was seeing their eyes widen with joy when their persuasion worked. 

“Please, Miss!” they'd beg, their puppy eyes softening your already mushy heart. “Please can we go over to the air field?” You'd pretend to consider, falsely uhm-ing and ah-ing, keeping them on tenterhooks until you pretended to relent. It wasn't hard to say yes; the children got to see the planes take off and land, some of them hanging around with their favorite crew chief - sweet Kenny Lemmons was only nineteen and far away from home, a playful big brother to the kids. Always so gentle with them and always so willing to answer any question they had about his job, he made them feel so special with his kindness.

“Children!” You'd softly scold, making apologetic eyes at Ken. “Leave Lemmons alone. He has a job to do, and you're under his feet!”

“No worries, ma'am,” he'd reply, his young eyes twinkling with joy at being able to pass on his knowledge to more young minds. “I don't mind at all!” And he'd take them across the field, letting them watch him and the rest of his crew patch up flak holes. 

You'd get to see Rosie, always so darn handsome in his flight gear. The best part of it all would be seeing his face light up the second he saw you, running over to give you a secret kiss when the children were distracted by Kenny and the crew.

“I'll be back before you know it,” he'd murmur, pushing your worries away with a soft kiss to the forehead. 

“I love you, darling.”

You'd started to enjoy the longer days that this new summer was bringing, especially how the sun rose even earlier, flooding your bedroom with bright light. It was even better when you got to wake up next to Rosie - the soft morning daylight reflecting over him; the reddish tint in his hair coming out because of it. He'd usually kicked off the covers, the blanket ending up at his waist. Sometimes, the prettiness of him would take your breath away, your hand stroking every exposed part of him you could reach. Even in his slumber, he'd smile softly at your touch, humming as your gentle tickles on his broad shoulders would wake him slowly. 

“Hi, pretty girl,” he murmur, pulling you closer as he woke up. 

“Hey, handsome,” you'd reply, curling up in his arms and savoring every second of his warmth. It's on one of these mornings that he looks at you seriously with those beautiful blue eyes, still full of sleepiness. 

“What happens when this is all over?” he asks, suddenly.

“What do you mean, my love?”

“When this is over…and I have to go home.”

“Yes?”

“Would you come with me?”

The question shocks the breath out of you, you crawling out of his arms to sit up and look at him. 

“Darling,” you begin, your hand on his chest. “I absolutely would. But I have a life here. I have my job, I have this house. My friends…my whole life is here. I can't just simply turn around and give it all up.” You feel him sigh under your hand, his face dropping slightly. Without a word, he takes your hand and kisses it, nodding. A moment of silence passes between you both, the tension of the question hanging in the room.

“Will you at least think about it, Y/N?” 

“Yes, sweet man. I will.” 

—

“Turn on the radio!” Sally squeals, rushing through the door as you're in the middle of explaining fractions. “Oh, heck. Sorry, Y/N.” Their eager eyes turn to you, and then back to Sally. 

“Miss Sally,” Harrison pipes up. “We only listen to the radio at school on Fridays.”

“Well, I'm sure Miss Y/N here will make a special exception,” she replies brightly, turning back to you with her teeth gritted. “Turn on the darn radio.” With a sigh, you do as you are told and hear the familiar voice of Prime Minister Winston Churchill:

"Yesterday morning at 2:41 a.m. at General Eisenhower's Headquarters, General Jodl, the representative of the German High Command, and of Grand Admiral Doenitz, the designated head of the German State, signed the act of unconditional surrender of all German Land, sea, and air forces in Europe to the Allied Expeditionary Force, and simultaneously to the Soviet High Command…Hostilities will end officially at one minute after midnight to-night, but in the interests of saving lives the "Cease fire" began yesterday to be sounded all along the front, and our dear Channel Islands are also to be freed to-day.”

The whole room erupts into cheers at his last words, the booming voice of the country's leader being drowned by joyful screams, the children pumping their fists in the air. You and Sally grab one another, hugging tightly and jumping up and down. As you break apart, the joyful tears in her eyes suddenly turn to sad ones when she figures out what it all means for her. With a deep breath, she slinks back into your embrace, her whole body shaking with sadness and adrenaline. 

“Oh, Sal,” you say, surprised to feel a sob catching in your throat. “Hey, now. No need to cry.”

“I'm scared,” she weeps into you, her arms getting tighter around you. “I don't know what I'll do without you.”

“Doll,” you sigh. “You'll be fine. We'll write all the time, Sally.”

“B-but…”

"No buts, lady. Give me a minute.”

You break away from Sally and clap three times to get your students' attention, them stopping their celebrations immediately upon hearing it. 

“Wow, thank you. This is a very exciting day and it would be rude of me to not let you celebrate properly. I'm dismissing you all early!” Another cheer erupts, some running over to wrap their arms around your waist in thanks. Retrieving their belongings from their cubbies, they hastily wave as they rush on home, except for Penelope who hangs back. 

“What is it, dear?” you ask, walking over to her. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a shiny red apple, placing it in your hand. 

“Wanted to give you this, Miss,” she says sweetly, her eyes bright. “Was gonna give it you at the end of school. Picked it this morning.”

“Thank you, darling. You are so sweet. Go on home to mum now, okay?” Penelope nods and skips out of the school house, her long hair flowing behind her before breaking into a run to catch up with her friends. 

—

Walking home arm-in-arm, you and Sally have to stop every few moments to greet or wave to someone passing by. Some even hug you both in celebration before rushing off down the street to the pub which, no doubt, was opening early today. 

Opening the door to your cottage, you let Sally in first. She sniffs, her eyes cheekily squinting at you.

“It smells different in here than usual,” she teases, elbowing you in the ribs. 

“Whatever do you mean, Sally?” you reply, winking back at her. “I guess it's just because it doesn't smell like solely me anymore. It's me and someone else.” Her face drops suddenly, her eyes filling with fresh tears. 

“And what will you do when it just smells like you again?”

“Oh, Sally!” you say, exasperated. “You keep dropping these hints, like I'm meant to know what to do.”

“You never told me he asked you to go home with him,” she replies, sitting down in an armchair. 

“Because it doesn't matter if he asked or not,” you respond, kicking your shoes off in the entryway. “I haven't made a decision. I thought I'd have much longer, but obviously after today, I–”

“You'd better make up your mind. Don't break his heart, Y/N.” Suddenly frustrated, you stare at her pointedly.

“I wasn't planning on it,” you say, feeling your cheeks turning an angry shade of red. “But what about all this? What do you think Granny would think if she was here if I just gave up this nice house she left me? And what would the kids do? I can't just leave them like that. I can't abandon them when they need me.”

“When will you ever think of yourself? What do you want?” 

Without hesitation, you respond, the words spilling out of your mouth. “I just want to be with Rosie,” you say with a shrug. “But it's not that simple, is it?” 

“There. Yes, yes it is. You and I, we'll figure this out.”

“What if they figure out we're hard to live with, huh? What then?” You joke, Sally breaking into giggles.

“Then at least we'll have somewhere to come back to.” 

—

The celebrations on base had carried on until first light, you and Rosie walking back to your cottage hand in hand. The early morning mist hung atop of every house in the village, the grass sparkling with dew in the morning light. 

Walking into your cottage, you lean down to start the fire to warm you both up. Sitting on the couch, Rosie sits next to you and wraps his arm around you, his warmth enveloping you instantly. 

“What a night,” you murmur sleepily into him, and you feel him nod in agreement. Taking a deep breath, he lifts your chin to get you to look at him, his eyes softening as you do so. His thumb begins to stroke your cheek as he speaks. 

“Did you think on what I asked?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter out, suddenly awake. “But I haven't made a solid decision yet. There's so much to figure out, but I–” 

You’ve barely got time to finish your sentence before he's getting up from his seat and walking towards the door. 

“Hey!” you blurt out, walking towards him to stop him from leaving. “Where do you think you're going?” 

“I'm going back to base,” he says flatly. “It seems you haven't thought about it at all, Y/N.”

“Believe me, I have.” You reach out and take his hand, kissing his palm gently. “I've been thinking about it an awful lot. It's been torture. I think of saying goodbye to those children and it breaks my heart.” Hot tears begin to spill down your cheeks and you try to wipe them away as fast as they come but the constant stream is too hard to keep up with. 

Suddenly, you're wrapped in a tight hug, Rosie shushing you with his hand stroking your hair until the cry is spent, you feeling the frustration leave his body the moment you wrap your arms around him in reciprocation. Sniffling, you break away to look at him, your hand on his cheek. 

“Please, don't go,” you whisper, your voice croaky from the sobbing. “Please?”

“I won't, I'm sorry, I--ugh, I just reacted the wrong way and honestly, I'm being selfish. I want you to come home with me. I want to give you a beautiful life, give you whatever you want. I want to take care of you. My ma will love you, Y/N, so will everyone else and–”

“Rosie, you have to understand that I cannot rely on you,” you interrupt. “I've been on my own for so long that being ‘looked after’ is a difficult concept for me. I haven't needed anyone and I don't intend to change that.” You see him sigh, his eyes downcast. “But,” you begin again, your fingers under his chin to have him meet your gaze. “I love you. I'm in love with you. And if there's anyone I want looking after me, it's you.” A pause hangs in the air for a moment before you reach up to kiss him, your hand playing with the soft curls on the nape of his neck. As you break away and see how he looks at you, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him, how he smiles softly at your touch, you've relented and done for. It's the easiest decision in the world. 

“I will come with you, darling. I'd love nothing more.” There's a moment of silence as you press your foreheads together, noses touching. 

You break apart and sit on the couch, Rosie holding your hand in his and rubbing his thumb over the surface.

“How will this all work?” you say, meekly, voice squeaking with nervousness. “I mean, where would we live? What could I do for work? I mean…I–”

“I understand your worries, sweetheart. How about this,” he pauses, clearing his throat. “We give it, I don't know, from now until Christmas. We'll write and I'll keep you updated.”

“That's over six months,” you say, eyes squeezing shut. “That is unbearable.”

“I know,” he grins, leaning over and kissing you on the forehead. “But how else do you expect me to save for a ring?”

“A ring?!” You reply, voice full of surprise. 

“Yes, my love. I’d ask you right now if I could, and–”

“Just say the word. Then I'd race you to the courthouse.” 

“I know it's a long time apart. But, it gives me time to make sure I can look after you the way I want to. I want to find you the prettiest house in the neighborhood, with enough room for a whole army of kids.” You giggle, your head now on his shoulder. “I'll find you the best school to teach at. I'll find you the sweetest dog at the pound. I'll find you and get you whatever you want and need, Y/N.” He pauses for a second, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just want to spend my life with you. In the grand scheme of things, seven months isn't long when we've got forever together.”

“Oh, darling,” you whisper, kissing him gently. “I'm over the moon.”

—

“Everyone?” you squeak out, trying your best to get their attention despite the crippling sadness clutching at your throat and chest. “I have something to tell you all.” The children's sweet eyes are on yours in an instant, ready to listen as usual. You take a deep breath to try center yourself, calm your nerves and steady your pounding heart. 

“Now, you all know that I've been seeing a lot of Major Rosenthal and–” you feel the tears pricking at your eyes as you try your best to stop them running down your face. “Well, he's asked me to join him when he returns home to New York. This means that–”

“Miss?” Harrison responds, his big green eyes brimming with tears. “Are you going with him?”

“Y-yes, dear. I am. I'll be with you until the Christmas holiday, and then I'll be leaving. But don't worry, I've made sure you'll be taken care of.”

A few days prior, your nerves shot after agreeing to Rosie's question, you had seen Rita, bicycling down the lane to her family home. She'd caught sight of you first, stopping the bike as quick as she could and wrapping her arms around you. It had taken everything in you to not begin to weep at this close contact, her face full of concern as she'd taken your expression in.

“Y/N!” she coos, rubbing your shoulders quickly. “Talk to me.”

You'd explained everything, from Rosie asking you to go home with him, you agreeing and then it all hitting you: leaving the children you had taught and been around from infancy, the cottage having to be sold and the thought of being so homesick you could barely stand it.

“Oh, darling,” she soothed. “But think of it this way! What a wonderful adventure, how fantastic for you. You and Major Rosenthal make such a great couple, too. I know you'll be so happy together, no matter what's thrown at you both.”

“What about you?” You sniff, wiping your damp face with your handkerchief. “Are you leaving anytime soon?”

“Oh, no,” she replies wistfully. “It turns out that I'm better off alone.”

“Nothing to do with the fact both your Yanks found out that they were simultaneously engaged to you?” You smirk at her, waiting for her reaction.

“Hey, I'm young,” she giggles. “It's all fun. Fun while it lasted.”

Through your stress, Rita's face still etched with sympathy, the answer had come to you. 

“Well, if you're staying, I have a job for you.” You shrug as casually as possible. Rita's face lights up in an instant, nodding enthusiastically before you've even finished your sentence. 

“Oh, Y/N!” she wraps her arms around you again, jumping up and down with you. “I'd love to. I'd be honored. Though I'll never compare to you–”

“Oh, stop it, you,” you cut her off, smiling nonetheless.

“I'm being serious! Nobody will compare to you. But I'll definitely try my best.”

---

“Miss Rita will be coming to teach you in the new year. What do you all think about that?” The children's faces go from sadness to excitable within an instant, some even pumping their fists in cheer. 

“Good! That makes me so happy.” You let the tears fall freely now, your hand clutched to your chest. “You'll never know how much I'm going to miss you, darlings.” You hear a few sniffles from the little crowd in front of you, and you turn away for a second to wipe your own tears. “But, luckily, we have all this time left together. No use being sad now, chickens. Shall we run over to the air field?”

“Yes!” they yell in unison, zipping out the door in a flash. 

—

Rosie's departure date comes quicker than expected, the news hitting you like a freight train the night he tells you, you both sat in the officer’s club. 

“Monday?” You manage to push out, feeling your throat close at the suddenness of it all. “Two days away?” Sally looks over at you, those big doe eyes of hers overflowing with tears. At any moment, the floodgates will open. You know you're able to stand it and be strong if Sally doesn't cry, but the second you hear her sniffle next to you, it's game over. 

“I need some air,” you croak out, trying your best to stand up without wobbling, in part from the three Old Fashioneds you'd consumed in quick succession. As you turn to grab your handbag, you see Sally clinging to James, him shushing her and stroking her hair as she weeps into him, leaving a dark stain of mascara on his dress uniform. You wipe your own as you walk away, not wanting to overwhelm the situation any more. 

“Sweetheart?” You hear behind you as you lean against a wall, face crumpling in what you thought was privacy. Rosie walks up to stand in front of you, his thumb stroking your cheek, catching the first tear that drops from your eyes.

"I'm sorry,” you snivel, holding the hand that's resting on your face. “I thought we'd have more time.”

“I know, baby. Honestly, me too.” He sighs a long breath leaving his nostrils. “But I promise you, it'll go so quickly. Before you know it, you'll be on that boat to New York to start your life with me.” He smiles his beautiful smile, your nerves gone in an instant. 

“I love you, Y/N. So much.”

“I love you too.”

—

Monday morning. You awaken before Rosie, not feeling well rested at all. Sleep had refused to come for the pair of you until the wee hours, you both falling asleep on tear stained pillows, clinging to one another so hard that you're sure you've left bruises on his soft skin. The soft morning light peeks through the thin curtains, flooding the room and enveloping Rosie. The gentleness of it brings out the red hints in his pretty hair, his subtly tanned skin glowing in the sunrise. Knowing this will be the last time in a while you'll wake up to him, you reach your hand out and run it along every exposed part of him, just as you do every morning. 

The blanket - always kicked off in the night by him - begins at his waist, so that's where your fingers start. Gently tickling upwards, your hand dips at his torso, all the way up to his collar bone before leaving your hand on his face, your thumb stroking the end of his mustache. He sleepily grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your palm, pulling you closer. 

"Hmmm, morning, sweet girl.”

“Hi, handsome,” your voice a little shaky. Feeling fresh tears threaten to spill from you, you sniff, trying to will them away. Without needing to say anything, Rosie places his hand on your waist and kisses you deeply. “Let me make love to you one last time before I go,” he asks. “Please?” 

You nod before the plea is even out of his mouth. Not wasting a moment, he's inside you, his mouth hovering over yours. 

“God,” he murmurs. “How will I manage without you?” You giggle, your hand stroking his face. 

"It'll be easy,” you moan. “Just think of all the time we'll have when I'm home with you.”

“Yes, my love,” he breathes deeply, kissing you. “I can't wait.”

—

“Come on, kids,” Rita says, trying her best to hurry them along to the air field to watch the planes ascend for the last time. They walk along, sluggishly, not one single sweet face holding a smile. Their usual ruby red cheeks are flushed, their demeanors the opposite of their happy selves. 

“My darlings,” you coo. “I know you will miss your friends. But, let's look at the bright side. They're going home to their families today, after so many years. Let's be happy for them for that, yes?”

“Yes, Miss Y/N,” they chorus, eyes suddenly looking a little brighter as you take control of the situation. Rita looks at you and bites her lip worriedly. 

“Don't worry,” you reassure her. “They'll take to you in no time. We have months and they'll get used to it, alright?”

“If you say so.” 

Walking along the grassy footpath that leads to the edge of the airfield, you see Croz and Rosie in a final conversation. You hear their joyous laughter from across the way, their bond always softening your heart. 

“You want me to bring my infant son to a jazz club?” you hear Croz laugh, his bag swinging in unison with his body.

“Hey, it's never too early,” Rosie replies, his finger wagging at him. With a knowing glance, they part from one another, acknowledging the fact with a glance that they've been bonded together forever due to this experience. As Harry walks away, he catches sight of you and waves, his usual anxiety and nervousness gone. You wave back, some of the kids around you saluting him. He reciprocates, putting his bag down and giving a proud salute in their direction. 

You turn back to Rosie and see him masterfully run his hand on the aircraft's every curve, using the same movements with his hands as he does on your body. You feel your stomach drop and it's an effort to keep standing as you witness him put his hands on every part he is able to reach. He sees you staring at him and grins, you running over to him as quick as a flash. 

“Love bug,” he whispers as he envelopes you in his arms. At this, you whimper and begin to sob, your body wracked with sadness. “Hey,” He soothes, his beautiful hand stroking your back. “Shh, darling. Those kiddos will keep you occupied and we'll be at city hall before you know it. Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you manage to muster out, your voice blocked by his shoulder. You break away and kiss him deeply, not caring who sees. “I love you, Rosie. So much I can hardly stand it.”

“I love you too, Y/N. My girl.” He hugs you tightly again, as if he cannot bear to let go. Alas, he does, sighing as his arms leave your body. He gently pulls your chin towards him and gives you the most soft, sweet kiss that makes your stomach flip. You take a few steps back and watch him clamber gracefully into the aircraft, your heart in your throat.

You find Sally a few moments later, both your faces blotchy with tears. Hilariously, you both reach into your pockets and swap matching embroidered handkerchiefs, Granny coming in clutch once again. 

"Frances strikes again,” Sally says, shoulders shaking from laughter and residual sobs. She reaches down and clings to your hand, her free one waving to James as she sees him whiz down the runway. Following behind is Rosie, who blows you a quick kiss before slamming his window shut.

 

Over the familiar hum of the aircraft, the gathered villagers cheer a chorus of “bye, goodbye! We'll miss you! Get home safe!” The final aircraft ascends, the noise going with it leaving a sort of eerie silence over the village that hasn't been heard in years. With a deep breath, you beckon the children down from the tower and lead them back to the schoolhouse.

Once there, you let them play outside so you can compose yourself before beginning to teach for the day. Sitting under the apple tree, you pull out your book from your bag and plan to read where you left off last week. A small piece of paper falls from it, scrawled in Rosie's penmanship.

“Counting the days until I see you again. I can't wait for you to come home. All my love, always. Rosie."

friends! thanks so much for reading this series. this is the final part of this arc but I hope to bring them back to you soon!!! <3

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666

masterlist

[wannaeatramyeon]

Omg can u js imagine lookism characters fighting you and they end up getting their ass beat by u? Basically js encountering someone that has 10x their own strength and their reactions would be so funny😭😭😭

Have I imagined being the peak of every fandom I have participated in? Yes. Yes I have.

Meeting Lookism Peak... YOU

You are onepunchman-ing through the Lookismverse.

J High Trio

You definitely weren't siding with Logan Lee and Vin Jin (wtf) but this Daniel Park, Vasco and Zack were causing a lot of trouble and you just wanted everyone to stfu so you can get decent grades.

It got even worse when Logan and Vin flanked you and held your hand. What is this throupling? GET OFF ME.

Vasco muttered about you being a bad guy and threw the first punch. Sigh - stupid birds of a stupid feather stupidly flocking together and before long Zack and Daniel joined in.

The strongest guys in J High? Now lying in a heap in a corner. You? Not even a scratch.

You approached them with tears in your eyes: "please, I'm just trying to learn"

Johan

You've acquired 3 new pups: Eden, Miro and Johan

This motherfucker tried to steal your shoes. Who tf does that. You were just minding your own business and walking home so of course you beat his ass.

And since that day, Johan likes to follow you around in the hopes of copying some of your moves. Shame you're able to KO him so quickly he can't copy anything. He learnt his lesson after the 27th time and doesn't try to steal your shoes anymore. He still follows you in case someone else fights you and he gets to copy.

Big Deal

You're the son of Gapryong Kim? Who's that? I'm just minding my own business and got accused of stealing from this street. No I didn't! I didn't even go into that store. THIS IS MY SHIRT.

This random guy is trying to take your clothes from you..what you gonna do? There's perverts everywhere. You tried to play nice and dodge his attacks but enough is enough. You're sick of people trying to steal your clothes and just knock him unconscious with one hit.

Uhhh where is this actual place and why has he got so much back up? This is Big Deal? What are you guys saying you're a Big Deal or... Oh you're actually called Big Deal?! Lol, losers.

Great. Now you're getting attacked by this ponytail guy. Sinu? and his invisible attacks? What invisible attacks. You can see them all clearly. Stop that. It's annoying. Please just SIT. DOWN.

The person with the biggest beef would be the big bald guy though (seriously who brings their dad to a fight?!) Jerry would go absolutely feral when you knocked out Jake. He's no match but every time he saw you after you can just feel the hate radiating.

Eugene & Workers

Sorry to say but this man is boring af. He seen you beating up his 'Gun and Goo' (this will never not be funny) and tried to recruit you.

You're in school. You're not interested in fighting for no 'Workers'. Besides a 9-5 sounds unbelievably boring right now. Why would you want to work and have responsibility when you can mess around all day. Youth IS wasted on the young, this dumbass.

He'll leave you alone as long as you stay out of his way.

Gun & Goo:

These 2 would just Never. Leave. You. Alone.

They've got eyes and ears everywhere so probably heard about one of your past fights.

First they would try to fight you cos of course they would. But the fact that you're so insanely strong and stronger than them turns them from

To

The fact you are so strong? That you could no diff them? They're just literally like wtf. They have never encountered anyone like you. They didn't even know your strength and fighting skills were possible. You will never know peace again.

Gun is more diplomatic and tries to approach you whenever he can to be his successor and just wanting to know who and what you are. But ultimately he will be itching for a fight each time. You're tired of this guy ripping his clothes off and squaring up to you.

And Goo is a fucking menace. After turning down Goo once to be his secret friend, he's just waiting around every corner with a steel pipe.

Are flies constantly buzzing around not annoying? Looks like you're stuck having to beat these guys up now and then to get them to fuck off and give you some peace but they still always return.

Samuel:

Oh boy. This man and his inferiority complex. He heard Goo mention you just the once ONCE and he got all worried about his Secret Friend status.

He uses his resources to find out about you but you seemed to live a relatively normal and quiet life.

Sammy is still threatened though and goes after you with his brass knuckles. Ok first you had people stealing your shoes and clothes, now you have a third homicidal maniac coming after you. Maybe you should just move.

You feel bad when he starts to have a breakdown after you beat him up. Then that bastard tries to bite your ankles so 🤷🏻‍♀️

DG: I can tell you the secrets to your powers

You: I don't care man, fuck off

DG: jk idk anything lol

[ronearoundblindly]

The Dignity of His Choice (abridged ending)

Speedy version of Reflections Part II & III (see previous or series) Steve Rogers x wife!Reader

Alright, this may not be conventional, but I'm crippled by guilt over this story. There are so many elements that hit brutally close to home based on a personal experience this past year (arguably this past decade but whatevs), and so I have sifted through 28 A4-sized pages, front-to back, and 17 smaller pages, front-to back (save one sheet), as well as a typed-up 7k, in hopes of grasping this magical redemption arc that exists in my mind and falls flat everywhere else. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of loving this story so much that nothing is good enough, and I'm sick of hoping to offer a conclusion that never f***ing comes. Welp, today you can know the conclusion--or the gist of it at least--because that is my Christmas gift to myself. I'm washing myself of the guilt. -> What follows is an extremely unedited and maybe slightly poetic summary of the finale. God, I hope you enjoy it, but really, I just want to feel like I *can* finish something. Sorry if that's dramatic; that's just...the situation of 2023.

Thank you in advance for your understanding, and I hope this serves up some sort of holiday cheer! (No real warnings because smut is reserved for the full-length version. This tale, as always, is 18+ due to very heavy themes.)

The thing is Steve doesn't regret his choice. How can he regret anything that ensured you were here, alive and happy, by his side? That's not an achievement he'll ever be ashamed of; there's no guarantee in the multiverse that he could have done better.

You spoke of being lucky. You felt guilt that of all the servicemen and women to lose their lives, yours came home in the end.

Steve doesn't see it that way. Yes, you and he are very, very lucky, but overall, Steve won.

In every war, there are battles. In battles, there are fights. In fights, there are shots taken, punches thrown. You don't need to land every punch to win a war. There are always losses.

Steve Rogers tends to win because he understands this.

He knows the value of strategy. He knows the value of hope. He especially knows the value of planning for the worst.

And so he's surprised--as he often is with you--that he hasn't lost more.

You accept the loss as well as the win. You endure more gracefully than he ever imagined possible during those long months alone and away.

His sacrifice may have played a factor in your safety, but in the end, it just came down to you. You fought for yourself. You battled for your beliefs. You warred for your convictions.

Steve can understand that. He admires it.

He plans to make this dreadful mess up to you, he hopes for the time to do so, but before he can strategize how, your bubble of isolation is burst by a knock at the door.

"Open up, Rogers. Please," Sam Wilson requests anxiously over F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s speaker.

He could simply mean you since you are a Rogers and neither of you have heard the okay that the world knows Steve's alive. Although, Steve still doesn't have a phone again, and you haven't exactly been checking yours during recent...activities... (Not to put too fine a point on it, but Bucky's little gifts aren't going to miraculously last eight days and nights.)

Steve stays in the corner of the kitchen, drying his hands from the dishes you two were washing together, while you answer the door.

It swings open in the direction that still hides Steve.

"Hey--" Steve hears the soft pause in Wilson's voice "--I think...I may be out of line here, but Stark ordered personnel to vacate the compound."

You cross your arms over your chest, nervous. "Do we need to leave? I--As in, you and I? Are we included in that?"

"No," Sam says flatly. "It's just...suspicious--look, can I come in?"

"Sam, wait!" You push to make a wall in the doorway, meaning Steve can no longer see you or what's happening while a silence, an extremely pregnant pause, stretches.

Afterward, there's a whisper.

"Is he here?"

Your reply is only a stutter of unfinished words, but that's enough. Sam's stepped past and halted a few feet inside before his scanning gaze lands on Steve.

Steve's not sure what he expects his friend to do. He's misjudging reactions left and right these days, so he can't presume that--

"Gym?" Sam ticks his arm, thumb pointing back out to the hall. "I'm going for a run."

He has to convince you and Steve that the whole place really has been cleared before Steve changes clothes.

The string-light and garland-lined corridors remind Steve that his apartment remains devoid of any festive touches. You two have been too distracted to realize it's the day before Christmas Eve, so the 'evacuation' will likely draw no attention from the average employee.

Stark is just adamant they have the holiday for family. That's all. The only people who live there are Avengers.

The smell of the rubber floor when they walk onto the track spikes nostalgia in the back of Steve's brain, and in his utter joy to be there again, he starts sprinting like old times.

His blood pumps and his lungs stretch, but it's too hard, too fast. His blood thunders in his ears and makes his head swim. His lungs burn fiercely and seize. He collapses, gasping through his weakest asthma attack yet, but it still happens.

Things are almost, almost the same. Things are still different.

Without taking the opportunity to gloat (too much), Sam uses his powers, skills he's had all along, to divine Steve's real fear:

Steve changed things, and he may have changed things so much that it's all ruined. He can't go back to being Cap because he showed his colors: he chose you over everything else. What if you can't go back to being his wife because of that same choice?

Sam helps Steve off the floor.

"You walked the same circle for a long time, buddy. Instead of getting off the track entirely, try one lane over. Baby steps."

Steve snorts. "Ya know, she said something similar."

"Yeah, well, some of us filled in the stoic charm while you were gone."

"Comes naturally to you, doesn't it?"

Wilson turns to walk backwards, flashing pearly whites. "The outfit is growing on me, and I think the press were just about to stop calling me Black Cap." He playfully punches Steve's shoulder. "We'll see how far this sets me back, huh?"

After realizing he has to take it easy, Steve enjoys a long, mostly quiet run beside his friend, never once passing him. Though Steve asks about returning tomorrow, Sam has to decline. Christmas Eve is for Sarah and her boys, and Sam's sister will raise hell if crossed.

Just before leaving the gym, Sam hugs Steve, the length and intensity of the embrace telling Steve all he needs to know. Sam--like everyone else who knows so far--is happier than he is hurt, and that stifles Steve in a torrent of humility.

He doesn't deserve the strength of this family built around him, but he is grateful.

Steve also doesn't expect to find Natasha and Bucky in his apartment when he returns. He was hoping to put up some decorations with you, bring a touch of joyous spirit to that place you've been emotionally entombed for months, but he outright frowns when seeing the box they brought.

Between you and Nat sits the bin of intel the Keepers gathered on you and left behind at a raided facility. You're pouring over the dirty details of horrible intrusion to your private life, both you and Steve's, and he can't help but watch your face closely.

You do look horrified. You look furious for minutes on end, file after file, until you finally ask, "who's had stuff like this on you guys?"

That's the thing. That's the part eating away at Steve's shame. It's why he can't be beyond a superficial level of sorry for what he's done.

"The Red Room," Nat replies softly.

Buck shrugs. "Hydra...among others."

Steve knows what that intel could have been a precursor to; they could manipulate more than just him. You could have been used, you could have been changed, and it would have been his fault. Extremes are most of his life, so Steve goes to extreme measures to keep his life separate from all of that.

Blurring those lines--bringing you closer to the fray of this scary and violent world feels irresponsible.

You continue to ask candid questions about what Nat and Bucky were doing this whole time. The response is grueling, a complex web of taking out targets without signaling an ulterior motive, every interaction carefully executed to seem natural, all the while knowing that Steve waited to come home and you waited for...well, the truth.

The way Natasha describes it makes Steve sick to his stomach.

He never wanted this, but he has to live with the consequences.

You thumb over a few stalking photographs in your hand and simply say, "that was quite a commitment."

Something triggers in Steve, and suddenly, his next move is crystal clear.

"I'll--I'll be right back," he blurts.

All three of you startle in confusion, sat around the coffee table like it's the most normal thing in the world to share so much. You've had top clearance for twenty-four hours. You're already a pro, and that makes Steve's idea that much more perfect.

He races through the building, glad he doesn't have to hide, and pounds on Tony's door.

As soon as Tony opens up though, Morgan rushes past his legs and lets out a blood-curdling cry that ends in a sobbing, "you're alive."

The little girl flings herself into Steve's arms, refusing to let go the entire time he asks Stark--all the Starks--for a favor.

You wake up the next morning to find a note from Steve and a dress of yours hung by the tree you put up after a long meal with Nat and Bucky.

Important errand, the note reads. Expect Tony to come by at 11. Wear this, please. I love you.

It's the dress you chose for your first date with Steve, the date that kinda never happened because the compound was invaded and you had to kill a guy. Odd memory to resurrect, but you do adore that dress.

You're not surprised when Tony arrives in one of his signature suits, nor when he makes a show of walking you through the halls on his arm. He has the uncanny ability to chat about nothing using the maximum number of words. He's delightful that way.

Your first real clue is Morgan, standing outside some double doors to one of the flex rooms, like the ones changed for training different abilities, like the ones used for therapy circles. In fact, it's the same room, the exact same double doors as years ago.

The girl looks fit to burst, clearly told to keep her cheers to a minimum as she clutches a wicker Easter basket in her hands, crouching as if ready to spring into action.

Pepper stands close by. Nat and Bucky whisper conspiratorially a ways down the hall.

Then you notice.

Tony has on a black suit with red pin-stripes, Pepper a blue dress with a white belt, Natasha a red dress with a white belt, and Bucky a navy suit with a black-shirt underneath.

"We did our best on short notice," Tony rambles off, guiding you to a stop in front of the party.

"This is for you," Morgan squeaks, ripping a colorful bundle of pipe cleaners out of the basket. There are buttons woven to the tops of each 'stem.'

Pepper quickly adds, "wild flowers were...a bit scarce, as you can imagine."

You brave a single question.

"What's going on?"

Everyone just beams at you, falling into a pattern of pairs behind Morgan before Tony winks and tells you to follow his lead.

The doors open, and there, at the end of the aisle, stands Steve--your Steve--in his old Captain America outfit minus the cowl. His hair is still long and darker, but his beard is properly trimmed.

All you can think is how you'll tease him about that.

You pinch at the leather sleeve in curiosity, and Steve leans over.

"This is the last thing I'll ever do in it," he says before kissing your cheek. "Promise."

"Says the guy who's stolen it twice," Tony mutters from his place on the other side of Bucky.

"He has a point," Nat chimes in.

The poor priest clears his throat and bellows, "dearly beloved..."

He keeps his promise.

At a press conference just before New Year's, Steve is announced as one of those rescued from "an enemy base" in an undisclosed location.

The crowd of reporters erupts in a chaos of inquisition, but all Steve will give them, standing there in a simple sweater and slacks, is his official resignation of the title Cap.

"What do we call you then?" someone shouts from the back.

"Just Steve. I am Steve Rogers, that's all." He looks to his left for the comfort of your face. "And this--" he grabs your hand "--is Mrs. Rogers, my soulmate."

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @claireelizabeth85 @patzammit @supraveng @1950schick @jamneuromain @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts

A/N: and yes, the full-version will be written eventually.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[wooahaes]

under the sun [hoshi]

pairing: non-idol!hoshi x gn!reader

prompt: darl+ing inspired fic.

word count: 11.4k~

warnings: food mentions. skinship. sappy soonyoung who falls for reader kind of quick. mentions of soonyoung being insecure in his feelings for reader due to other people having feelings for them. very minor injuries (head bumps).

daisy’s notes: hi i didnt realize the last part was posted in february. i am so sorry sdkfhdsf also if you’ve been removed from the taglist, its because your name wasn’t popping up!! :(

< day 3 || masterlist  ||

summary: It all starts when you wake up in a field without a name  or any memories to define yourself with. Thirteen men take you in as  one of their own, and slowly you begin to wonder what is going on within  this world… and between you and one of them.      

Soonyoung, from day two, considered himself to be a little forward with skinship when it came to you. From cuddling up to you that night (with your consent) to the teasing way he pretended to sleep in a little longer just to have a moment alone with you. Truthfully... Something about you made him feel a little flustered. He chalked it up to the fact that you were a new face here and that he always got a little choked up when new people were around (not enough to not be social with them, for sure, but enough that he watched himself a little more). Teasing Chan came easily to him: inviting you to cuddle with him and Seungkwan felt like a small leap to take when you were still so new. Maybe with time, he thought, he’d get more comfortable with you and be able to be the bright, funny Soonyoung that everyone else knew him to be.

But you? You’d realized pretty fast that the Soonyoung you heard in stories wasn’t the Soonyoung you were getting to know during your early days of living with this group. Stories of the wild things he’d do, chasing adrenaline sometimes, or the funny, loud things that came as a byproduct of him being this larger than life guy... didn’t fully match up with the mellow Soonyoung you were seeing.

And very quickly you realized that Soonyoung worked harder than some of the others, more than you expected. Your early days with the group were filled with being tasked to work with people like Seungcheol or Jihoon or Soonyoung, all because they seemed to take over the task of teaching you different things. You’d spent a day with Seungcheol, learning how to identify ripe plants and how to prune them, until he let you go to go play games with Chan (at Jeonghan’s slight push to do so), another with Jihoon to learn the way they organized their stock room... but both of them let you learn a little by doing. Most of it had been watching, sure, but both gave you the opportunity to teach you that first day by letting you try for yourself to make sure you were doing things right. Soonyoung was the one who always insisted that you focus your efforts on learning from him and watching, that he’d let you try later. He wasn’t as hard on you as you’d heard he would be (you’d heard Chan gripe early on that Soonyoung called him out for not washing a shirt as thoroughly as he could have--mainly because it hadn’t been Chan’s shirt and Soonyoung wasn’t going to let him half-ass something for someone else), but you realized that it was because you were still new. You simply didn’t know yet.

The absolute strictest he’d ever been with you, though, was because of your own slip-up. Seungcheol explained to you one morning that they try to have major clean-up days every few weeks, sometimes more often if he noticed things in disrepair. Dragging things outside to give them a proper cleaning, someone washing the countertops and tables and everything more fully than they usually did: things that were a hassle because while your home wasn’t a mess, there always seemed to be something in the way. It was usually the same day all bedding was washed and hung out to dry, too.

It was a simple thing, a clumsy mistake, to step out of line right as Mingyu was toting something outside with his back to you. Soonyoung had been standing nearby, and his harsh Stop! had startled you before you were yanked out of the way. He’d held you against him for a moment, Mingyu glancing over for a moment before realizing he’d nearly run into you. He’d apologized, as did you for not getting out of the way, and things went on as Soonyoung held you a little longer than he had intended to. Once the way was clear, he let you go, watching where Mingyu had disappeared outside.

“You need to be mindful of others,” Soonyoung said, a little harsher than he had meant to. He realized it, only to soften back up, “It’s okay,” he gently patted your head. “I get caught up in things sometimes, too. But--”

“It could have hurt both of us,” you said with a nod. “I understand, Soonyoung. I’ll be more careful.”

He smiled a moment later, taking your hand to guide you back inside. He’d help with carrying other heavy things in a little bit--for now he would at least make sure you’ve had a snack since breakfast (while grabbing one for himself, too, to use as an excuse). Soonyoung had already started up a small conversation about how this was usually one of the busier days they dealt with--but he liked the hustle and bustle of it.

“It feels familiar,” he said. “Maybe I grew up with people always moving like this...”

You realized in that moment that as mellow as Soonyoung could be when it was just the two of you, he was... also a bit of an enigma, in a sense. You’d seen the cute way he’d tease the others, or heard the loud laughs that followed something he did--but that was a stark contrast to the quieter man you were starting to grow more used to when it was just the two of you. The same man who gently pushed food toward you while others were working, just to ensure that you were being taken care of. And the same man who left you with a gentle pat on the head again after shoving his snack into his mouth, reminding you that he wasn’t mad in case you were worried--mistakes happened. He just took it upon himself to make sure no one got hurt under his watch.

You watched Soonyoung rush over to Jeonghan, offering to take part of the laundry load from him happily, already talking about what they thought Mingyu (or Seokmin or Junhui--no one was quite sure who was going to figure out those plans) was going to make for dinner tonight. A moment later, you turned back to the slices of fruit you’d pulled from, smiling to yourself.

Soonyoung, you decided, was someone who clearly cared about everyone there... even if it meant taking a subtler route to make sure you were okay.

Soonyoung, you decided, was very cute. A little weird at times, sure, but in the most endearing way. Ultimately, you thought he was an interesting person when it came down to it. A few days later, you’d realized that he could go from mellow, calm Soonyoung who politely chatted with you about how you were adjusting, to...

Well. The Soonyoung who ran straight into you, cackling as he was busy escaping a ranting Seungkwan who did not have Mingyu to hold him back. He had thrown you off your balance, and sent you sprawling onto the floor, head hitting the ground pretty hard. You’d let out a yelp of pain, hands flying to the back of your head to try and knead away the pain (and you were so thankful you didn’t pull away your hand to find blood), only to hear Seungcheol hop up from his spot on the couch, already  barking at Soonyoung to be more careful.

Soonyoung, however, was already profusely apologizing to you. He knelt down next to you, gently pulling your hands away as he tried to look you over. A few days ago, he had gently scolded you for getting in the way--and now he was flustered and upset with himself. “I didn’t see you, really--” His fingers pressed into the back of your skull, and he frowned as he pulled away, a small sense of relief on his face that you weren’t visibly injured.

Seungkwan had already reached for your hands, pulling you back up to your feet. “Are you okay?”

You nodded after a moment. “It just hurts a little,” you said. “It’s fine.”

Seungcheol let out an aggravated huff. “It didn’t sound like it’s fine. Are you sure?” He gently nudged past Seungkwan to stand before you, looking you over carefully. “Are you dizzy? Is the light bothering you--”

“I think they’d know if they were concussed, Cheol,” Seungkwan huffed. “If they say they’re okay, then they’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung had stood up, hand grazing your arm for a moment before he pulled away. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“They’ll be okay if you all stop crowding them,” Chan called out, coming over. He offered his hand to you, and you gladly took it, letting him pull you from the circle that’d formed by the three. “If they start to look worse, I’ll bring them back,” he started to guide you toward the tunnel out. “Okay? I’ll look after them.”

A moment later, Seungkwan had started fussing about how Chan just stole you away without anyone getting a chance to say something. Chan had merely smiled at you, guiding you back outside to get some fresh air, only to pause as he leaned around to glance at the back of your head.

“Channie, I’m fine,” you insisted further. “Really--It was just a bump.”

Chan sighed, hand still securely holding your own. “I know,” he said. “But if you really do start to feel bad, then tell me, okay? You started to look a little suffocated in there...”

Maybe that’s because you were starting to feel that way. You appreciated their concern, sure, but between Seungcheol slightly grilling you to make sure you were okay, Seungkwan trying to speak on your behalf, and Soonyoung still apologizing (and calling out a final one as Chan led you outside)... It was a little exasperating to say the least.

Chan had decided to distract you for a little, walking down to the river with you and abandoning his shoes to walk into it. Despite his attempts to goad you out into it with him--the day was beyond warm and the water felt great, you decided to stay back in favor of watching him from the grass. Even when he paused while walking along, noticing something in the water, you had stayed back--calling out to ask what it was. He said nothing, pocketing it for himself before unconvincingly stating that it was just a pretty rock he’d take to Minghao later (maybe he would paint something pretty on it if he asked).

When you returned, Soonyoung had been waiting for you. You waved for Chan to go on ahead, and waited for Soonyoung to speak. Once the two of you were alone, he finally met your gaze, suddenly so much shyer than you knew him to be.

“Are you mad?”

You furrowed your brow at the question. What reason did you have to be mad at him? When you shook your head, you could see the relief on his face.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, quieter this time. “I just told you to watch out for others, and then I--”

“It’s okay,” you said, taking his hand in yours. “Accidents happen. You didn’t mean to run into me.”

“You didn’t mean to get in the way, either,” he said, “and I scolded you for it.”

You pouted. “Telling me to watch out for others wasn’t really scolding me, Soonyoung. I mean it: it’s okay. If it wasn’t, I’d say so.”

Soonyoung seemed to finally accept that you weren’t mad or upset with him, slowly nodding as he took your words in. “Okay... But I still want to make it up to you. You looked hurt,” he said. “So I’ll do something nice for you, okay?”

“You really don’t have to--”

“I want to,” he said, fingers curling around one of your hands. “Okay? I’ll figure it out. It’ll be fun.”

Something about the twinkle in his eyes made you smile. You were certain Soonyoung already had an idea forming, and who were you to deny something nice? With a nod, you gave him the go-ahead, and he smiled at last. He leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead after gently pulling you to where he could do so comfortably, and then took off running, saying he’d have it all figured out. All you would have to do is be there.

A few days later, Soonyoung had stolen you away halfway through chores to go swimming together. Most of the time, Soonyoung hated ditching in the middle of working... but Seungcheol had given him a light push to do it. He’d kept making comments about how Soonyoung was working too hard, that it was too hot today for Soonyoung to go above and beyond, that he was sure no one would hold it against him if he decided to run down to the lake...

Seungcheol wasn’t subtle in the slightest. But it had taken Jihoon looking up and telling him to just go find you already for Soonyoung to finally agree to do it. He’d run off, waited until you finished washing laundry, and told the others he was stealing you for today. It earned a groan from Chan, Seungkwan trying to pick an argument with him, and Hansol pulling Seungkwan back and telling him that he’ll have to cover for them next time they want to be lazy (which Soonyoung would do in a heartbeat: they deserved to rest sometimes, too). He’d gathered his things while you were working and shoved them into a bag.

To be honest, he’d been waiting for a day like this. He knew you’d seen the lake before, but today was finally the perfect weather for swimming. He’d only been debating whether he should steal you away during chores or waiting for you to be done, bag packed and ready to go. The moment the lake was in sight, he dropped the bag onto the ground, stripping off his clothing until he was only in his underwear as he ran ahead of you. The dock seemed to shake with each pounding footstep, but Soonyoung had already taken a running leap into the water, making a big enough splash that you had thrown your arms up to protect yourself from any stray droplets that happened to reach you.

He resurfaced, the dyed blonde hair clinging to his skin as he turned, smiling when he found you again. “Aren’t you getting in?”

You’d felt embarrassed all of a sudden as you began to strip off your own clothing to match him. With the heat rushing to your face, you decided to make a joke instead. “Turn around, you pervert.”

He’d laughed, but obliged. “It’s not too cold, by the way. It feels really good.”

You’d been more careful with your clothing than he had been, dropping it into a pile before making your way down the dock. The feeling of the warm sun kissing your skin was nice, but you could only imagine the reprieve the water would give you from the heat of the day. Soonyoung turned around to face you again, and you didn’t fail to notice the tiny once-over he’d given you before moving back to give you space. You sat down, watching him for a second as you hesitated.

“It’s okay,” he said, gentler this time. “I’m here.” He ran a hand through his wet hair, reaching up to you. Then he hesitated for a moment. “You don’t have to get in if you don’t want to.”

You took his hands a moment later, though. Wordlessly, Soonyoung helped you down into the water. Your chest pressed against his own, his hands lingering at your hips for a moment, and he smiled at you before he finally let go.

(For a moment, Soonyoung wondered if your lips were as soft as they looked... then he shoved that thought away. Not now. You were his friend. Nothing more.)

“So?” His eyes were twinkling. “How does it feel?”

It wasn’t as cold as you had expected it to be (Soonyoung had thrown his full body into it, after all, so you weren’t sure if he’d just pushed past that initial shock of cold or not). To be honest, it was heavenly compared to how hot it was out. “You were right,” you admitted after a moment. “It’s the perfect day for this.”

He smiled, pushing himself back through the water as he splashed at you with a giggle. “So...” He said. “Now that we’re alone...”

Oh no. You felt questions coming.

“Do you like Chan?”

... Chan? Sure, he was cute (all of them were attractive, to be fair), but you shook your head. And you did it again and again when he asked about Seungcheol and Joshua, too...

Before he could get down the entire list, you stopped him. “I don’t like anyone like that.”

Soonyoung nodded. “Okay... But you know you don’t have to hide your feelings if you have them. It’s just the fourteen of us now,” he bobbed a little in the water. “If you ever develop feelings, you shouldn’t be afraid of them.”

“What, do you have feelings for someone?” You’d quipped. Soonyoung smiled: he liked seeing this side of you.

He shook his head. “I love my team,” he said with a teasing lift to his voice, “including you, now. I was just thinking about it the other day...”

Was he a romantic? You had never considered Soonyoung to be like that compared to someone like Minghao or Mingyu or... potentially even Seungcheol, now that you were thinking about it. “I think we all love you, too,” you said instead of asking what you wanted to know.

“I know,” he smiled cheekily. “But we’re talking about you,” he said. “I just...” He grew quieter for a moment. “I’ve thought about it a lot. Not with you, but with the others, too... I think if any one of us were to confess something like that, we’d be okay with it. We’re adults,” he looked at you. “No one would get kicked out if something went wrong. It’s just us now, I think. We shouldn’t be afraid to feel things like that...”

Maybe he was a romantic. “I’ll keep it in mind,” you said. “To be honest...”

He hummed, perking up.

“I think... You’re all handsome.” He had laughed at your confession, head thrown back, and you splashed water toward him. “Don’t laugh! You are! All of you are handsome... Stupid Mingyu knows it, too...”

“Okay,” he said. “But where do I rank then?”

Oh, the tease. You splashed water at him again. “You don’t get to know!”

“So you have ranked us!”

“Soonyoung!”

Once his laughter had quelled, he turned to you, deciding to change the topic despite how much he wanted to know. He asked something about chores instead--what you hated the most or something--as he ignored the heart-fluttery feeling that had started to take root within his chest. It’d go away with time, he was sure of it. He just wanted to enjoy this time alone with you instead, having said what he wanted to say.

Yet on the walk back home, he felt the need to be more serious about it. “If you like someone, you should tell them,” he said at one point. “I think hesitating too much will only hurt you in the end. We’re all that’s left now.” His eyes met your own. “We should love one another freely and openly. There’s no point in hiding it forever.”

You had promised to keep that in mind, and it made him feel safer. Maybe Chan would confess his feelings for you if Soonyoung gave him the same pep talk later. It was clear that Chan had already begun to crush on you from the first day he met you, happy to find someone so similar to himself. Sure, the guy had bonded with Hansol and Seungkwan for similar reasons--but you and Chan were still newer than the rest of them. Soonyoung thought that the two of you would fit well together, too.

That night, he dreamed he was in a dance studio. He couldn’t remember what he was doing, or who he was with, or what music had been playing over the speakers... but he remembered gazing at himself in the mirror for a moment, only for a sharp yell be what drove him out of his dreams. No one in the room had said a word as Soonyoung woke up, looking around for who had called out...

But his gaze fell to you, sleeping peacefully beside him. That little mouse plush toy someone had made you was tucked into your arms, and Soonyoung found himself smiling at the view. How cute. He reached out, almost about to brush a tiny strand of hair out of your face, when he realized how... intimate that felt. He drew his hand back, and just watched you for a second longer.

Maybe he should take his own advice sometime.

Soonyoung loved dancing.

It was something he had always done since he came here, the song in his heart that was ever changing being enough for him to move to. There were a few others who danced, too (Jun, Minghao, and Chan: all with their own styles that Soonyoung found intriguing to watch), but... Sometimes, at the end of his chores, Soonyoung would go off by himself and find a space to be alone, and then he’d choreograph to the parts of a song Jihoon had written. The ones he’d commit to memory, just so he could dance to them. He always had ideas as to how he thought the choreography would go, and sometimes he’d show Jihoon if he felt like it. He’d never forget the afternoon where Jihoon and Joshua had been playing guitar together, and Soonyoung had pulled the others into dancing with him. It was before Hansol had come, and just shortly after Seungkwan remembered his name. Deep down, he hoped to make a new memory like that--not just with you, but with Hansol and Chan as well.

Dancing was freeing. There was a record player out in the city, somehow intact, that he brought back with him forever ago. He’d shoved a few records into his bag and he’d been careful with them (although he noticed the silent way Seungcheol grabbed another one that Soonyoung had fully intended to leave behind after a debate between them, and the way it was later tucked in with the other records). None of them were recognizable to Jihoon--not in the way his songs felt strangely like home to him and everyone else--but the five-person group on the faded cover felt so... familiar to him. Jeonghan seemed to recognize them, too. Sometimes the two of them would just sit together and listen.

Soonyoung put everything in order one day. The others had assembled a group to go out on a picnic together, and, last he heard, you would be going with them. With the place mostly to himself (at least the nearby area being clear), Soonyoung had pulled out that same record and began to play it. As long as he wasn’t disturbing anyone, he could lose himself in the music. The others had been stressed lately (so had he--this was just his way of getting it out), and some of them needed the quiet. Last Soonyoung heard, Seokmin and Mingyu had gotten into an argument over something and still weren’t fully over it. Maybe that was why Jeonghan suggested the picnic. He’d put the two of them on cooking duty alongside Jun, just to give them a common thing to work on. Soonyoung would have to hear the story from someone else later.

The music began, and Soonyoung took a deep breath. And then he lost himself in the upbeat song, soaring in a way that only dance could do for him.

And when he was done, he had been facing the open entryway. When he opened his eyes, there you were, wide-eyed but clearly impressed.

“Soonyoung...”

He suddenly felt sheepish, already apologizing for not noticing you sooner. He’d gone to turn off the music as you took a cautious step into the room, stopping him before he could do so.

“You’re really good,” you said. Soonyoung watched as you took another step, and began to wonder if maybe he’d been rubbing off on you. Jihoon told him that you overheard him playing his music during those first few days, and you had wanted to shy away instead of listen outright--the same way Jihoon had tried to shy away. You stopped, toying with your sleeve. “Were you a dancer before this?”

Soonyoung opened his mouth to say yes, although he wasn’t sure why. But he nodded after a second, embarrassment catching up with him and turning his face warm. “I think so.” Then he watched you, brightening back up, “Do you dance?”

You shook your hands. He extended his hands to you.

“Do you want to?” He said. “You don’t have to be good at it. I won’t be too harsh.”

His light teasing had earned a chuckle from you, and you placed your hands into his. He pulled you into the room with him, taking a few steps back.

“Are the others gone?” He asked, and when you nodded, he swore his heart rate began to pick up. It felt... weird to be so close to you without anyone else around. Sure, he’d gone out to the lake with you not too long ago, but this felt... different. More intimate. The others knew where the two of you were and that you were together. This felt secretive.

“The picnic group went out earlier...” You had paused, clearly trying to recount everyone’s whereabouts with a quiet hum as you thought. “Jeonghan ended up backing out to go on a walk with Cheollie... Hansol and Kwannie are up in the attic playing games...”

Soonyoung swore, for a moment, that his heart was going to burst at how cute you were. The quiet hum as you continued to wrack your brain, the way you pursed your lips a little... How could one person be so cute?

“Hao and Jun are fishing together, but they went out with the picnic group... So it’s just us. And maybe Wonwoo, but I think he said he wanted some space to himself today.”

Soonyoung nodded, hands still holding your own. Something about being alone with you made him flustered again, especially with having you so close to him. But he stepped in time with the music with you now, abandoning all thoughts of choreography in favor of simply having fun with you. It was silly to just swing your arms, to twirl with you, but it earned a smile from you. That was all he could want.

“Do you choreograph stuff yourself?”

“For these songs?” He asked, and then paused. “No. I think... I just learned them from someone else. But everything for Jihoon’s work is mine, I think.” At least, it felt more like his. Maybe he had learned it from someone else, too. But if Jihoon’s music was real, maybe Soonyoung choreographed to it with friends. That felt... a little right, but it was harder to explain that to you. “I’ll teach you sometime,” he said. “It’s fun.”

Soonyoung danced with you a little while longer, although it felt much more like the two of you were goofing around to music... while also holding hands. Soonyoung had to wonder if you noticed how rough his hands felt in places--from all the hard work he does with the others. As much as he tried to take care of himself, that was something he felt he was never really able to get rid of nowadays. Your hands were still slightly soft, in his opinion. If he let himself think on it longer, he’d... easily say that he enjoyed holding them.

And then you slipped. Whether it be on sweat or just you misplacing your foot, Soonyoung would never know, but his instinct was to hold onto you tighter as he tried to catch you. You had hooked an arm around him to try and steady yourself, only for him to get pulled down with you. He didn’t think. He just pulled you into his arms as quickly as he could, one hand cushioning the back of your head as the two of you hit the ground. With your face smushed into his chest, he just stayed there for a moment, mind processing what just happened.

As soon as he realized it, he drew away from you, propping himself up on his knees as he sat next to you. “Are you okay?”

He watched as you sat up after a moment, reaching up to brush your fingers where his hand had just been--saving you from a nasty knock to the head. You lifted your eyes to meet his. “Are you?”

“Hm?”

You blinked, and then grew flustered as you shook your head. “Never mind. I’m okay.” Your hand dropped down onto the floor, and you avoided eye contact, face growing even warmer. “Thank you for cushioning my fall.”

He smiled a little. “At least you didn’t get hurt this time.”

That made you furrow your brow, and you looked up. “Huh?”

“Oh. Um. Last time...?” He grew more flustered. “When I ran into you...”

You realized what he meant, and then giggled. “Right. Thank you, Soonie,” you stood up, offering him your hand. “I’m glad I have you looking out for me.”

Soonyoung felt his own face growing hotter at the nickname, but accepted your hand. He let you pull him up to his feet, and he looked over to the record as it continued to play. “Sometimes...” He looked at you. “I’ll work on things with the others. With, um, Seokmin and Seungkwan. We tried calling ourselves Soon-Seok-Seung once, but it didn’t really fit right...” He trailed off. He never was sure why it didn’t fit, it just felt... wrong.

“Really?” He noticed that your eyes had lit up in intrigue. “You guys perform together?”

He nodded. “Do you want to see?”

And oh that smile... “I’d love to.”

He’d pull something together. He had went to promise that to you, only for Wonwoo to pass by. He looked over, noticing him take a few steps back, asking if either of you had eaten yet. When you admit that you hadn’t, Soonyoung decided to bite back the promise he wanted to make to you. It‘d be better as a surprise anyway. The two of you had followed Wonwoo back to the main room, only for the sound of Chan calling out to you drawing you away from them. Soonyoung watched you go, a tiny longing within his heart as you called back out to Chan.

Wonwoo had stopped, too, looking at Soonyoung for a second. Then he, too, watched you disappear. “It’s obvious.”

Soonyoung blinked, looking back to Wonwoo. He knew his feelings were obvious, but... He decided to play dumb instead. “What is?”

Wonwoo looked over with a hum, and then chuckled softly. “Never mind.”

And for a moment, Soonyoung felt like Wonwoo knew something that he didn’t.

Soonyoung found himself drifting closer and closer to you. The days went past, and that meant it was getting closer to your first month of living with these men. Which meant that Soonyoung needed to start making plans. He’d depart from your side to call out to Seungcheol and Jihoon, and the three of them would reconvene elsewhere. The plans were the usual ones they pulled together: drinking and games and music. Jeonghan would likely bust out his paints again. Jihoon said he would check with Minghao, who had already begun drying flowers during your first week there since they’d need some new ones for decoration. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have the leftovers from Chan’s celebration, since they didn’t throw any of those out, but it felt... wrong if they merely re-used everything from his celebration.

Soonyoung took it upon himself to figure you out further, then. The group liked trying to find something extra special to each person, and Soonyoung was probably in the best position to figure out what you liked. The two of you had been seated in the shade, a bundle of flowers next to you. Seungkwan had taught you how to make flower crowns at some point, and Soonyoung watched as you worked.

“Do you remember anything now?” He asked from his spot on the ground, rolling onto his stomach as he peered up at you. “It’s okay if you haven’t.”

You carefully weaved a little yellow flower into the chain you were making. “Nothing I haven’t said before.”

“Which is?”

You hummed to yourself for a second. “My parents or someone cut up some fruit for me as a snack when I was younger. I don’t really remember anything past that. Just... eating strawberries. It’s not much.”

Soonyoung frowned a little. That was it? What could he do with that? He’d figure it out. “Okay... So what do you like?”

You looked up, and Soonyoung was sure you already knew what he was trying to do. But with a smile, you continued to make your crown. “I like a lot of things. Living here with you guys is probably close to the top, though.”

“How cheesy,” he teased with a giggle.

A slight roll of your eyes punctuated with your own giggle. “I dunno! I like a lot of things here.” You hummed to yourself as you thought. “I like... cooking with the others. Dancing with you was fun... and Jihoon’s let me listen to him sing a few times, but I think that’s because I was with Hansol. I like that, too, actually: going off with Hansol and the others is fun. And the time Jeonghan painted flowers on my face...”

Soonyoung was listening attentively, filing every little thing away in his mind. He’ll find something in there, he was sure.

“I... really liked watching you dance,” you said, quieter this time. Like you were confessing something for only him to hear. “You’re really good at it.”

Soonyoung felt the heat rush to his face at how earnest you sounded. Then it hit him: you liked him dancing. He could work with that. He popped himself up and off the ground, making up some excuse that he forgot about something Seungcheol had asked him to do. He quickly pecked you on the cheek, promising he’d catch up with you later.

(He didn’t know that you had been left sitting there, face burning hot as you touched the spot his lips had just been... only to smile to yourself a moment later. What a cutie.)

Soonyoung had found Seungkwan first, dragging him by the arm to where Seokmin and Jihoon had been talking by some stroke of luck. He had tripped over his words endlessly, but managed to get the gist across: they needed to pull together a little performance between the three of them. When Soonyoung said it was for you, Seungkwan had agreed easily enough. The two of you were friends, and he was happy to contribute his talents if it meant making you happy. Seokmin agreed, too: he liked performing, and knowing that you liked watching Soonyoung dance meant this would definitely be something you would enjoy.

And then he saw Jun and Mingyu, and pulled away from the conversation to call out to them. They had sugar, it shouldn’t be too hard to make candied fruit, right?

“I’ll even help--”

Mingyu and Jun both shot their heads up, already turning the offer down. “You can help prepare the fruit,” Mingyu said, gentler than his initial rejection. “We don’t want burnt sugar.”

Soonyoung smiled to himself, agreeing. He was going to make this the best possible experience for you. That much he would guarantee.

Despite how hard Soonyoung had begun to practice with the others... He knew he couldn’t control Seokmin or Seungkwan. Not that he ever wanted to, but it didn’t take long for him to realize just how seriously he was taking all of it. They’d begun working on a song with Jihoon, and Soonyoung felt as though he already knew bits and pieces. Yet writing was hard. It always was, Jihoon had told them: there was a reason why he never managed to break through and finish a song. But they’d meet up, they’d get things down, and then end up dispersing when nothing else came. Or sometimes Soonyoung would manage to rope them into learning the choreography he had already come up with for the part they already had down. Truthfully, Soonyoung wouldn’t have done it if the moves weren’t just... in his head. Something that seemed to haunt him as he went about his day, humming the part that Jihoon did write in a way that he later confessed felt like he knew it. Soonyoung had joked that they were plagiarizing songs or something, but he felt it, too. But in working on a performance befitting of your celebration, perfect enough for you, Soonyoung had to push you away to keep the surprise.

Which became really, really hard when Jeonghan let it slip that you’d asked about him multiple times. The others were meant to keep you distracted, and now... It felt wrong to avoid you when you seemed so concerned.

Jihoon was the one who called it quits, and told Soonyoung to go rest. Goof off. Relax or play games with the others--he didn’t care what, but he was done for the day. He’d ended up telling him to go and he’d finish the damn song on his own when Soonyoung pushed (your celebration was fast approaching, after all), before calming down to say that he felt like the space was what he needed to finish the song faster. He knew what he wanted it to say, he just... needed to sit with his own voice for a bit before reapproaching it as a group.

So with the rest of the evening to himself... That meant Soonyoung needed a distraction. And Seungcheol’s shoes, left out for anyone to take, was the perfect target. He’d grabbed them while Seungcheol wasn’t looking, and slipped them on with the plan to go out for a bit and maybe tease Seungcheol for leaving his things out again.

Of course, Seungcheol looked up from where he’d been resting for a few minutes, and immediately noted. “Soonyoung-ah!” He groaned, and Soonyoung almost giggled to himself--this wasn’t anything new at all. “Those are mine--” He sat up, only to realize what Soonyoung had grabbed that morning to wear. “Is that my sweater?! Soonyoung--”

At the end of the couch was a hat. One that Seungcheol claimed as his own forever ago, and one that he must have put down when he stopped to rest for a bit.. All within seconds, Soonyoung lunged for it, grabbing it before Seungcheol could get it, and took off running to go find you. He cackled at the sound of his name being called out, taking pure glee in being able to tease Seungcheol again like this. He made his way through the tunnels and out into the church before rushing outside, finding Minghao and Jun working on hanging laundry today.

“Where’s Mouse?”

Immediately, Minghao rolled his eyes and pointed off toward the river. With a thanks called over his shoulder, Soonyoung took off running, hearing Seungcheol calling after him once more. Soon enough, he had spotted you, and threw himself into the grass beside you.

Before you even spoke up, he’d pulled the hat off of his own head and pulled it onto yours securely. He smiled to himself. As much as he liked stealing it... He thought it looked way better on you. Most things did nowadays.

You blinked at him, pushing at the rim of the hat so you could meet his eyes. “Hi?”

“Hi.” He smiled at you, a mischievous glint glimmering in his eyes. “Now we’re partners in crime.”

And oh, that shy smile that crossed your lips. “Okay?”

“Do you want to go for a run?” He asked, looking ahead. “The lake is nice at this time of year. Didn’t Joshua tell you that? Or Chan?”

You furrowed your brows, tilting the bucket hat back a little further so it’d stop hanging awkwardly in your face. “Why would I want to--”

“Soonyoung-ah!”

Soonyoung only giggled, grabbing your hand again as he pulled you up and off of the ground. He looked at where Seungcheol was making his way out, still calling after him. You watched as Soonyoung raised an arm, waving at Seungcheol happily and calling out his own greeting in kind... only to immediately turn to you, wink, and then take off running with you in tow. His hand held tightly onto yours as he guided you away and toward the lake, away from where Seungcheol would chase. He’d wait for the two of you to come back eventually rather than follow you that far.

When Soonyoung looked back, he could see you holding onto his hand tightly, your other hand holding the hat onto your head. Even though the two of you weren’t being pursued, he kept running, the high of feeling free filling his body. Hopefully yours, too.

The two of you ended up collapsing into the grass eventually, laughing together now that you were at the lake and under the shade of the nearby trees. Even still, Soonyoung held onto your hand. His lungs ached for air, legs tired from running after spending so many days practicing for hours on end and drilling the choreography in Seungkwan and Seokmin’s heads. But when he looked over to check on you, you were smiling at him again. The laughter quelled, melting down into the eventual sound of two people breathing.

You sat up, pulling the hat off of your head. “So this is...?”

“Seungcheol’s.” Soonyoung then kicked a leg up into the air, pointing at his shoes, “These are, too. And so is this,” he tugged at the sweater he’d pulled on earlier after he found it lying around.

Seungcheol never really cared if someone borrowed his clothes. He just wanted people to ask first. This group was like family to him, and sometimes families shared things like this. Or maybe there was something more intimate than family. Soonyoung had thought to himself one night that he must be soulmates with everyone in that room. That was why boundaries seemed to break down between one another, why Seungcheol didn’t care (hell, sometimes he seemed happy to share little things like that with others) about people borrowing his things. As long as they asked, he’d be happy to give them the go-ahead.

So, to Soonyoung and literally everyone else, this meant teasing him by casually stealing things every now and then.

(It was at this point while Soonyoung gave you a loose explanation that your gaze flickered down to his collarbones, and you realized he was likely only wearing the sweater, no other shirts since it was warm enough out...)

“He keeps leaving his things around,” Soonyoung said, settling into the grass. “And I told him I’d steal them if he did.”

You slowly laid back down on the grass. “And now we’re partners in crime.”

He giggled for a moment, only to realize that you had never let go of his hand. His gaze fell back to your face, and he felt his heart sink a little. “I’ll take the blame if he’s mad,” he said, more concerned this time. You were new, he reminded himself. Maybe you were scared of angering Cheol (a hard thing to do) and potentially kicked out (an impossible thing to do). “Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t,” you were smiling again. “We’re partners in crime now.” Gently, you squeezed his hand. Your head fell to one side, meeting his gaze. “So we’re in this together, right?”

Together. Soonyoung’s gaze fell to your connected hands for a moment, before he looked at your face again. You were looking at him with this tenderness he hadn’t experienced before; not here. Maybe in another life, he had. But here? Living alone with all of the others? He knew he was cared for, but this... This felt different. His voice caught in his throat, and he nodded, sheepish all of a sudden.

“Good.” A light laugh colored your voice, and you pulled your hand free from his with ease.

You watched him for a moment, before gesturing for him to sit up. When he did, you shifted to where you could pull the hat back onto his head. With a tiny adjustment, you smiled at him again.

“There.” You settled back into the space next to him. “It looks better on you.”

I think you look good in anything. The compliment stayed on the tip of his tongue, because you took his hand again. Hell, you’d even grown closer to him while putting the hat on him...

“Soonyoung?” He could see you smiling, and he swore he’d die right then and there from how fast his heart was racing. At least he’d die seeing an angel. “Cat got your tongue?”

More like mouse. “I...” He started, gaze flickering down to your lips for a moment. “I’m just resting,” he lied.

“Okay.” Your head rested on his shoulder. “As long as you’re okay.”

Soonyoung had always been good at filling space when it came to conversation. And yet now, with you believing his stupid lie, you took that task onto yourself. You’d talked about something you did with Hansol the other day, or the fact that Mingyu had helped teach you how to prepare fish (whether you ate it or not, you said something about how you liked being helpful). All of this being spoken aloud in a low, soothing voice while you played with his fingers. And all Soonyoung could think about was how badly he wanted to kiss you.

At some point, he shifted so he’d be somewhat on his side as he watched you speak. He’d stopped holding your hand with one hand, but you gladly accepted his other, playing with the ring around his pinkie that he’d found weeks ago. Eventually, your eyes met his, and you began to trail off as something... changed between the two of you.

And, stupidly enough, Soonyoung went in for it, your lips meeting his own. He kissed you hard, almost as if he was scared that he’d open his eyes and you’d be gone. Even stupider, Soonyoung thought that you kissed back. When he opened his eyes again, drawing back, you were staring at him, all starry-eyed and lips slightly parted.

Oh. Fuck.

An apology already was tumbling its way past his lips as he scrambled back, realizing what he had done. He kissed you. Fuck, did you even like him like that? Or did he just plant one on you without thinking? Despite the way you called his name, telling him to wait, he took off in the opposite direction to go home. He’d feel guilty for leaving you once he stopped, but it was a straight shot home. You had plenty of sunlight left in the day. If you didn’t come home, then Soonyoung would go looking for you without a second thought, but now...

He hid in the gardens, making himself as small as he could. He could hear you calling for him later. When you inevitably disappeared inside of the church, he followed you in, waiting until you disappeared into the underground passage before he made his way into the attic instead. Maybe you wouldn’t come looking for him there. He made his way over to the bed, collapsing onto it with his head in his hands. When he eventually heard someone coming up the ladder, he was afraid it was you.

Instead, it was Seungcheol, who sighed loudly when he saw him. He pulled himself up and into the attic, “Just ask,” he said, as if the stupid hat and shoes and sweater were what made Soonyoung hide out. “I’m not mad anymore.” He came over, sinking down into the space next to this. “Did you have to drag them into this?”

Soonyoung said nothing, the way he kissed you replaying in his head over and over now. Did he have to drag you into this?

“Soonyoung?” Seungcheol sighed again. “I’m not mad.” Soonyoung could feel the hat get pulled off of his head, and Soonyoung slowly raised his head to look at Seungcheol. He watched as his brows knit together, realization dawned on him immediately. “... Did something happen?”

Soonyoung’s voice was still back by the lake, lost in broken, messy apologies that he couldn’t fully say. He just dove in and wrapped his arms around Seungcheol tight, face buried in his shoulder as he fought back the urge to cry. Seungcheol had stiffened up at first, taken aback by the action, but Soonyoung only hugged him tighter.

And Seungcheol knew. He had heard you telling Chan about it before he came looking for Soonyoung. You hadn’t wanted everyone to hear it, but Seungcheol just... almost stumbled into view (which would have stopped you), and he had questions that needed answering, so he listened instead to you recount how Soonyoung kissed you hard enough on the lips to mean something. When Soonyoung finally drew away from Seungcheol, he looked afraid. Whether it was of facing you or facing the others, Seungcheol couldn’t be sure.

“If you love them, you should tell them,” Seungcheol said in a quiet voice. Gentle as he could be. He understood how Soonyoung felt. “No one will be upset.”

That was a lie, and Soonyoung knew it. He buried his face back into Seungcheol’s neck, still fighting that choking urge to sob. He knew. He knew he wasn’t the only one who loved you like this. He knew that Chan did. He knew that Cheol did, too. Fuck, Soonyoung thought a few others had begun to fall for you as well (and why wouldn’t they? Soonyoung thought you were wonderful, and couldn’t picture his existence without you now). It felt selfish to love you so much when he knew the others did, too. What had he done to deserve your love?

Seungcheol’s arms settled around Soonyoung after a moment, gently rubbing his back. “I’ll send Jihoon up with dinner. If you want to sleep up here, it might be good to get some space. Don’t worry about Mouse,” he felt a gentle pat on his back, just to reassure him. “I’ll talk to them.”

He wanted to say No, don’t. He should talk to you, shouldn’t he? But he just drew away from Seungcheol with a numb nod of agreement. Space sounded nice, too. Yet when Seungcheol stepped away, Soonyoung had grabbed him by the wrist. He waited until Seungcheol finally looked at him, and he swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to love them like this.”

Seungcheol understood: I know you love them. I’m sorry. But Seungcheol reached out, ruffling his hair instead. Like an older brother, Soonyoung thought. “We’re adults,” he said, the lighthearted tone enough to soothe over some of Soonyoung’s fears. “No one will be mad at you as long as you treat them right.” 

He felt safer. Right. That’s all anyone would want, right? For you to be safe and loved and treated right? That’s all anyone there could want. That was why they stayed with each other, after all. It was a different kind of love that Soonyoung felt for you compared to the others, but the word itself was the same. And Soonyoung knew that as much as he loved you, he loved the others equally, maybe even more: this love for you was new and small and had space to grow, but he knew he did love you in the way he’d loved the others... things were complicated.

Seungcheol left him there, and eventually Jihoon came up with a package dinner in his bag so he wouldn’t have to struggle with carrying a tray up there (enough for the two of them to eat together, Soonyoung noticed). He’d teased him lightly about hiding out up here, something about making the task of bringing him dinner harder, but he sat down with him on the floor and waited until he began to eat. Just to make sure he would.

“I also brought this...” Jihoon pulled out his songwriting notebook. “I wanted to finish the lyrics with you. Seokmin and Seungkwan helped a lot, but there’s a verse I couldn’t figure out... Maybe we could finish it.” He thumbed through the pages lightly, “It doesn’t feel like this song was meant to be mine alone.”

(Soonyoung noticed that... sometimes, Jihoon talked distantly. Like there was still someone missing from the writing process of his songs.)

“I’ll play it for you when we’re done,” he said. “I think you’ll like it.”

And he did. With Soonyoung and JIhoon working together, the rest of the song just seemed to fall fully into place. He watched as Jihoon grabbed the guitar from the corner of the room, playing it well and singing it even better. It felt... right in a way that Soonyoung couldn’t describe. The same kind of right he felt when Chan came to them almost two months ago, like everything had fallen into place. Like this song was meant to be.

Soonyoung could see the words JUST DO IT written at the top of the page, and found himself smiling. “Is this a sign?”

“Yes.” Jihoon didn’t miss a beat. “From all of us. It’s painful to watch you stare at them every day--You look like a sad puppy waiting for its owner.”

Maybe so. His sappy, love-filled gazing at you hadn’t gone unnoticed by pretty much everyone. His smile fell, though, and he began picking through his dinner. “I kissed them.”

“I thought so.”

Soonyoung’s head jerked up. “You what?”

“They kept looking for you,” Jihoon said. “More than usual. It felt like they wanted to say something. They only stopped after Seungcheol told them that you needed space tonight--but it’s obvious what they wanted to say.”

Soonyoung felt his heart skip a beat. You were looking for him? “So you think...”

“You already know,” Jihoon said. “So tell them.”

Soonyoung looked over the lyrics again. They weren’t tailor-made for you or even this situation, but they gave him a confidence boost he had needed after everything went down. Just do it. So he nodded, already making plans in his head to tell you the right way. “I will.”

Soonyoung found you the next day with a goal in mind. Despite how hard it already felt the moment he saw you, still so radiant despite being covered in dirt from the vegetables you harvested, he knew he wanted to confess to you right. He’d already given Seokmin his thanks for watching over you, having overheard how you’d gone to him and confessed your fears that Soonyoung was upset with you. Not that he blamed you: he kissed you and ran away when he realized how much he felt for you. You were just... clueless to it all. To how he fell for you over the past month, faster than he ever thought.

“Soonyoung,” your gaze had softened when you saw him. You set down your bag, dusting yourself off as you straightened up to face him. “If it’s about yesterday, it’s okay--”

He shook his head. “I want to tell you how I feel,” he said, taking your hands in his own. “But I can’t yet. Can you wait for me?”

You gaped a bit at first, struggling to string together words for a moment. Then you pressed your lips together, exhaling hard through your nose as you gathered your courage. “Soonyoung, if you don’t like me, it’s okay--”

“Will you wait for me?” He pushed further, squeezing your hands. “Please? I wouldn’t ask you to wait otherwise.”

Oh. Oh. That said it loud and clear: I wouldn’t lead you on like that. You smiled after a moment, so shy to this new feeling of reciprocation between the two of you. “How long?”

“You’ll see,” he said, unable to fight back his own smile. “A few days. And I’ll meet you outside under the big tree in the courtyard. Okay?”

The moment you gave your okay, Soonyoung pressed one quick kiss against your forehead before rushing off to find Seokmin and Seungkwan (only to find them talking with Jihoon). They could pull things together in a few days. Hell, they already had a song they’d been working on together--never fully able to finish on their own, but that wasn’t the point. Maybe one day they’d teach the song to the entire group for fun, but this little thing was their song. Of course, he didn’t expect the others to finish what the three of them had written with the help of Jihoon... but Jihoon had waved off the idea that he had finished a song. It was all of them together. They had finished the lyrics together, and the melody just... came to him.

“Maybe that’s what’s missing...” Jihoon had said softly under his breath. A thought that Soonyoung would return to once he had said the things he needed to say.

It hurt to not see you for those next few days outside of meals, but Soonyoung had a job to commit to. If he could woo you with a song, then maybe his dedication would tell you how you made him feel. How deeply he had begun to love you, wanting to give you his all... even if some of the song started to feel a little targeted at him after a while. Maybe it was the pointed way Seokmin and Seungkwan sang at him sometimes when they were goofing off while rehearsing. If Soonyoung didn’t talk to you directly, then he was pretty sure everyone else was going to. Even without seeing you as much as he wished, Soonyoung found joy in the way he could curl up to you at night, only to find you snuggling up to him soon after.

(He just yearned to officially call himself yours, mentally kicking himself for this self-imposed commitment. He could just say it. He could. But... Where was the fun in that?)

The morning of your celebration, he felt you stir in his arms. Your eyes found his after a moment, and he smiled, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said in a quiet voice. “Rest well,” another kiss, “Thank you for staying with us.”

You’d pawed through the air toward him as he climbed out of bed, breaking his heart a little bit to have to leave you. He made his way through the main room, glancing over to where Jun and Seokmin were busy with making candied fruit for you (alongside with other food for the party). How early had they woken up to start preparations? He was sure Mingyu would help soon, but that he would have already eaten breakfast and headed into the church to start preparing things. After running through his morning ritual and shoving some quick breakfast into his mouth, he went to join the others where they’d been busy cleaning everything before getting things into place.

Soonyoung knew how boring it had to be to kill hours. But he knew that Chan would go to fetch you when time came, and instead focused his efforts into everything.

“Soonyoung,” Jeonghan called out from where he was helping set chairs back up, “you’re dancing again.”

... Was he? He stopped his movements, looking up with a slight head tilt. “Huh?”

“They’re going to love it,” Jeonghan said with a small smile, continuing to pick up another chair. “So don’t worry too much, okay?”

Right. He just had to have faith that you would... and that you could understand what he was saying with it. 

Was it wrong to be a little jealous of Chan? He watched the way that Chan came back in, holding the curtains open for the two of you to enter through with his hand holding your own. Despite taking part in throwing dried flowers around you, in watching Seungkwan as he crowned you with the usual flower crown that he crafted himself... He wanted to be the sole person you paid attention to. Chan stayed at your side, even while Seungcheol gave the usual “thank you for staying, we love you”  speech that ended up making you a little emotional (was he truly down so bad, as Hansol would say, that he wanted to wipe your tears away?) in doing so.

At least he knew you were loved by not only him. In the casual way Chan had an arm around you, or the joke that Hansol cracked to hear your laugh--even if it was at Seungkwan’s expense, judging on the way Seungkwan had playfully elbowed him. The way Mingyu had brought you a small snack, talking about how they’d all worked hard on everything. He could see the way Minghao attentively listened when you spoke, the way both Jeonghan and Joshua happily answered your questions about previous parties and whatnot. Wonwoo wordlessly fixed your flower crown as he was passing by to get another drink, while Jihoon and Jun had been talking to you about something that Soonyoung hadn’t caught. Hopefully no thinly veiled comments about what was to come--everyone knew at this point, except for you. Seungcheol merely stood off to the side, watching everything with this fond look on his face.

You were loved. Truly, Soonyoung wanted nothing more for you to know that, and he was sure that you knew.

Seungkwan and Seokmin had disappeared into the backstage area to pull on the matching jackets. Or, well, it was as matching as they could get--similar enough that it unified them as a trio. Jihoon had elbowed him on his way to get his guitar.

“Stop staring,” he said, “it’s obvious.”

Maybe it was, even to you, but Soonyoung was okay with that. Life was too short to not say the things he needed to... Even if he was putting it off to do it with flair.

When Soonyoung peeked out at you through the makeshift curtains, you were eating a candied strawberry in a seat that someone had ushered all of you into. You were back to talking with Hansol and Chan, flower crown still perched on the top of your face. Seungcheol had that same fond look on his face as he poured drinks, refilling your cup before planting a tiny kiss on the top of your head before moving on. The moment drinks were doled out for everyone, Soonyoung gave him the quick okay as they were all ready. Jihoon had pulled the guitar strap over his head, heading out to his stool just off the stage so that he could be ready.

Seungcheol cleared his throat, quieting down the group. “For a while, we didn’t do things like this,” he said with a nod toward the room around him. “We found joy in each other, but we never thought to celebrate it. If it weren’t for Seokmin, we likely wouldn’t have started this.”

(Soonyoung could see the tiny way Seokmin smiled a little harder as he adjusted his jacket before swiping a hand through his hair, making himself look more presentable.)

“I know I shouldn’t bring it up,” he said, “but we’re all that’s left as far as we know. When someone makes a choice to stay here and embrace community among strangers... It’s hard. I think we all struggled with it.” A moment of agreement among them all, quieting down just as soon as it started. “That’s why we celebrate ourselves: to remind ourselves that we’re a group... And that we love each other.” He turned to you. “Mouse,” he paused, correcting himself with your name, “You wouldn’t know this, but we like performing for one another. Joshua sang when we had our cook-out right after you came, but we usually do... More. Jihoon will sing, Minghao has danced before. Sometimes we have nights where we perform, but you’ll see those eventually. If you want, you can join us--or you can watch. No one will hold it against you.”

(Soonyoung can see the nervous way you smile, leaning further into Hansol’s side. Maybe he’ll teach you a dance sometime... It’s a nice dream , to be honest.)

“I know I said it before,” Seungcheol said, “but thank you for staying. For deciding you want to help us. And for loving us, too. Several of us have plans for tonight, but Soonyoung insisted on going first with Seokmin and Seungkwan.” He stepped back to his chair. He smiled with pride, cup raised toward the curtains, “Soonyoung! Make us proud!”

With a shared smile between the three of them, Jihoon began to play. Seokmin pushed his way out of the curtains immediately, greeting everyone with something that felt right in a way Soonyoung never knew it was: They call us Boo-Seok-Soon.

Every chance he got, Soonyoung smiled at you. Even when he was left slightly panting (his nerves were tiring as hell--he needed this to be perfect for you) and tired from the high energy number, he was smiling at you. The group applauded (and you were so, so happy and smiling hard enough he thought your cheeks must be hurting). He just hoped you understood what he meant.

It was silly as several others started hurling questions at the trio, as if they were interviewing them post-performance. A question about what came next from Boo-Seok-Soon (...and a question as to when the hell Seungkwan remembered his last name), which only led Soonyoung to deflect all questions to their manager and producer, our Jihoonie. It had turned his face red as he said he’d consider trying a new song for them as a trio if they wanted to collaborate, taking the question a little too seriously (but Soonyoung liked it: maybe they’d do something again in the future). As soon as he could, he threw himself into the empty chair next to you and held back the urge to kiss you again right then and there.

It was cute to watch the way you went around to hug everyone once the night started winding up, already sleepy. He disappeared outside as quietly as he could, planting himself underneath the large tree until you would come to join him. Some of them had already gone off to bed, likely to wash off the paint from Jeonghan (or the marker from various members--everyone’s marked up by the end of the night by paint or ink). Meanwhile, Soonyoung just stood, waiting nervously for you.

How was it that you made him so nervous? Performing from everyone was second nature to him, and yet you were the one who made his heart race.

He could hear you raise your voice, “Soonyoung’s missing? Ah... It’s fine. I’ll go find him!” As if you didn’t know all you had to do was step outside. Your eyes were glimmering as you turned to him, smiling hard at the sight of him.

You didn’t hesitate to run toward him as soon as the door was shut behind you, already wrapping your arms around him. His hands fell to your waist, beaming with pure, unfiltered joy at having you close to him again. The two of you were maybe a little tipsy at this point in the night, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to tell you. Soonyoung was so, so ready to love you the way you deserved to be loved.

“Did you like it?” He asked when you drew back, hands resting on his chest.

You nodded eagerly, eyes twinkling. Or maybe that was the stars... But Soonyoung thought he liked the ones in your eyes far more. “So... Just do it, huh?”

He smiled a little harder. “Jihoon said it was a message from everyone to us.” Soonyoung paused, thumb running along your skin. “Ah... Well... To me...”

You giggled. “And?”

His gaze flickered down to your lips for a moment, hands reaching up to cup your face. “May I...?”

You leaned in, happily kissing him instead. His nose bumped against your own, and you just giggled, turning your head a little more so that you could kiss him happily.

Yeah. Soonyoung could definitely get used to this.

general taglist: @twancingyunhao​ @wonuziex​ @synthetickitsune​ @cinnamoroxie​

under the sun taglist: @shiningstar-byulxx​​ @twogyuu​​ @strawberri-uyu​​ @bbmyungho​​  @thedeeppoet​​ @heeseung-lover686​​  @jeonncafe​​  @bfwonu​​  @dreamhannies​​ @yourfavoritefreakyhan​​  @amethyistheart​​ @jeonnyread​​  @nap-of-a-starr​  @fr0g-filez​

[devilat-thedoor]

What Is and What Should Never Be Ch. 4

A/N: I know this one took awhile and i’m sorry. life has been life-ing😅 I don’t know if anyone has really noticed or cared, but for each chapter, I’ve linked a song that heavily inspired the story for me, whether it influenced the specific chapter or just influenced the storyline in general. I’m always listening to music while I write and it’s where i draw a good bit of inspo from. idk. But I really recommend listening to the songs or at least reading the lyrics💖

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. No smut this chapter. Toxic Themes(Fighting/Arguing), A lot of angst and a bit of fluff. Nothing else really? just a general sadness…

…Stay a little longer if you convince me and tell me all the things that you have against me // Every time we make up the truth is fading, everybody’s blind when the view’s amazing...

You pulled the visor down, letting the keys drop into your lap. Your chest felt tight and you fought to keep the tears back, blinking them away as they came. As you turned the car on, you realized that you left your bag beneath the counter and it had your wallet with your license and money and cards, but there was no way you could go back into that place. You looked through the windshield as you put the car in drive and saw Josh barreling through the back door, trying to get your attention. Ignoring his waving hands, you drove out of the lot and went straight home.

“Why are you home?” Bellamy was standing in the kitchen when you came through the door and dropped your keys on their hook, “I thought you didn’t get off until 9?” 

You slipped out of your shoes as you turned to her, “Umm. I wasn’t feeling good, so J- I got sent home…” You walked past her to open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, “I’m gonna go lay down.”

She caught your arm before you could exit the space, “Don’t lie to me, Y/N. What’s wrong?” She gripped your shoulders, forcing you to face her, “This is the second time you’ve come home upset and I can’t help but think this time also has something to do with Jake. What is it?”

“Bellamy, it’s nothing, I just want to go to bed.” Your voice cracked as you tried to pull out of her hold.

“It’s not nothing. What did he do?” Concern was etched across her face as she stared at you.

You shook your head, trying to hold the tears back again, “He didn’t do anything, Bell, it was me. I fucked up… You told me from the start not to get caught up in them and I didn’t listen. I did this to myself.” You were embarrassed at letting it get to this point. You should’ve just left them both alone and kept it purely professional.

“Hun, I also told you to have fun…” The guilt was creeping over her but it was quickly replaced by her protective nature over you, “Which one of them were you working with? Who’s there now?”

“No. Bell-“

She cut you off, stepping around you to exit the kitchen, “I just want to talk to him. Which one was it?”

Now you were grabbing her arm to yank her back, “Please, Bellamy.” You let out a sigh, “You can’t fight this one for me. I’ll deal with it, I just- Not right now. I wanna forget about it until tomorrow.”

“Okay. Fine.” She released a sigh, nodding her head as she allowed you to exit the room.

You strolled into your bedroom, clicking the door shut, and went straight to your closet. Stripping out of your work clothes, you reached for the one article of clothing that you always sought solace in; Your dad’s old, blue Penn State college hoodie. It was littered with teeny holes and fraying seams, the nittany lion logo peeling away from the fabric, but it still smelled like him. You pulled it over your head, the hem falling to your mid thigh, and held the sleeves over your face to breathe in the familiar and comforting scent.

Grabbing your phone from the dresser, you flicked the light off, crawled into bed and checked your notifications. There was a single message from Josh but nothing from Jake.

Josh 7:21pm: Did i cross a line? What is going on with you and jake?

You 8:02pm: I crossed the line. I’m sorry.

You didn’t wait long enough for a response, just plugged your phone in after turning on Do Not Disturb and laid it facedown. You picked up your laptop from beside the nightstand, opening it up to play some music. After clicking play on a playlist, you put the laptop down beside you and curled deeper into the mattress. The soft organ notes of the first song floated through the room, Cold Heart Killer by Lia Marie Johnson, the lyrics immediately plaguing you with thoughts of Jake.

But my friends keep saying he’s a cold heart killer

Make you crazy, yeah, he’s smooth as liquor

So damn dangerous, I got too close

Oh, I should’ve known better…

You really should have known better but even now, after the constant back and forth, after what he said, the idea of him was still enticing. Pulling the duvet up to your chin, you closed your eyes and willed your brain to conjure up thoughts of anything else, anyone else, but it was no use. Your mind kept wandering back to the night you spent with him, waking up with him, your body longing for the feeling of his draped over it. You gave up on fighting the thoughts and let them run wild until you inevitably fell asleep.

💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿

“Y/N…” Bellamy’s hand was on your back, shaking you awake, “Hey, Jake is here to see you.”

A soft hum vibrated from your chest as you peeked an eye open, not quite registering what she was saying, “M’sleeping, B.” You pulled the blanket up over your head to partially block out the morning light but also to make her go away.

She yanked the comforter away, whisper-yelling, “Jake is in the living room…”

You rolled over, wide-eyed, “No. Get him out.” Sitting up, you pulled yourself from the bed.

“What am I supposed to tell him? He knows you’re here, Y/N!”

Now you were yelling in a hushed tone, “Tell him that I don’t want to see him. Tell him that he’s a fucking dickhead! I don’t give a fuck, Bell, just make him leave.” You pointed at the door to get your point across and watched her slip out and pull it shut behind her. Raking a hand through your hair, you let out a sigh and reached to pull your phone from the charger when your door was flinging open.

“Dude, what the hell is your malfunction?!” You heard Bellamy yell before the door slammed shut and drowned out her shouting.

You whipped around, knowing exactly who you were about to face, “Did you not get the message? Leave.” 

He stood just a few feet away from you, those stupid sunglasses covering his big, dumb, brown eyes and his annoying, soft mouth drooped into a frown. He lifted his hand, holding your bag up, “You left this at the shop…” He was looking around your room and you weren’t sure if it was just out of curiosity or because he was trying to avoid your eyes.

“And you couldn’t just leave it with Bellamy? You had to bring it to my room?” Your tone was growing louder and you thought you saw him flinch, “Or better yet, why bring it at all, Jake? Why make the special trip down here for a whore? That’s what I am, right?”

“No. Y/N-”

“No? But that’s what you said, hun…” You were sure you looked crazy with your wild sleep hair and angry eyes, “I’m just a fucking whore who gets on her knees for everyone, according to you.” You released a humorless laugh as you turned away from him, “Yanno, my dad always said all a man’s got in life are his balls and his word and he shouldn’t break ‘em for nobody…So don’t take it back now, Jake. Own the fuck up to it.”

“Can we just have a conversation like adults? Are you capable of that or does everything have to be a goddamn fight with you?” He grabbed your shoulder, spinning you to face him again, “I wanted-”

You were cutting him off again, ripping yourself from his touch, “Fuck you! I don’t care what you wanted and you made it blatantly obvious that you don’t care what I want.” Your voice dropped, cracking a bit as your emotions became overwhelming, tears prickling in your eyes., “Why are you here, Jake?” You brought your hands up to your face, trying to stop the tears from falling. When he didn’t answer, you dropped your hands to see him coming towards you. He was grabbing your waist with one hand, the other curling around the back of your neck, as he collided his lips with yours. You instantly melted into him, moving your mouth against his without a thought as your fingers desperately searched for any sliver of his skin they could find. He was pulling you in tighter, his thumb pressing into your hip, when you finally realized what was happening. You flattened your palms on his torso and forced him away, “Stop it- Just-”

“Y/N, please…” He reached for you again, but you threw your arms up, blocking his hands.

“Don’t touch me… I want you to leave.” You could hear your voice shake with every word, but you tried to remain stern, “I don’t want to see you anymore, Jake, just let me be.” You finally started crying, unable to hold it back anymore, “Can you please just leave me alone? I can’t do this anymore, I can’t- I need you to leave.” You sat on the bed, letting your head hang as you stared at the floor, watching the hardwood collect the salty droplets from your cheeks.

He stayed rooted in place for a minute or so and you could feel his eyes boring into you, begging you to just look at him and tell him to stay. You saw his old, filthy vans turn around, followed by the sound of the bedroom door opening, “I didn’t mean it, peach. I’m sorry…” Your head snapped up at his dejected voice, but he was already gone, leaving the door to hang open as he left you alone. Just like you asked…

“God, he’s a real piece of work.” Bellamy came into the room after a few moments and found you crying, “Oh babe…” She rushed to your side, sitting down on the bed to hold you, “What did he do?”

“Bell, I just want my dad…” You leaned into her, letting your tears soak into her shirt, “I d-don’t kn-know what to do.”

She took one of her arms away from you to pull her phone from her pocket, “I know, Y/N. Hang on…”  After a few seconds, you heard the facetime calling tone coming from her cell, “It’s not the same, but it’s the best I can do, babe…”

You raised your head just as Bellamy’s dad picked up, “Hey, hon- Oh, it’s both of my girls! How are you guys?” Mr. Cole’s jovial greeting brought a tiny smile to your face.

“We’re okay. Umm… Y/N could really use some advice, dad.” She angled the phone in your direction.

His eyes focused on you through the blurry pixelation, “Awwe, sweet pea, what are you crying for?”

Your heart warmed at the nickname; Your dad graced you with it when you were three years old and took it upon yourself to pick all of the flowers from your mother’s garden. You held them tight in your grasp, running to find your mom on the back porch and presenting what you thought would be a nice gift, Mommy, look what I got for you! When she saw you, covered in soil with fistfuls of the tiny, pink blooms, she was furious. She yelled and threw a tantrum about her precious flowers, but your dad just smiled as he pulled you to the side  of the house and turned the hose on to clean your little fingers off. He looked at your mother with a gentle smile and said, “We can always plant more, honey… But this sweet pea? She’s irreplaceable.” He pinched your chubby cheeks and left a soft kiss on your head and the name stuck. Even after a few years of him being gone, Bell and her family still kept the nickname alive for you.

“I really messed up, papa Cole… Dad would be so disappointed with me.” You put your head in your hands again, shaking with soft cries.

“No, Y/N. There is nothing you could ever do to disappoint him.” He paused, only speaking again once you brought your attention back to the phone, “You were the world to him, his perfect, little sweet pea blossom.” His voice held a solemn tone now, “Talk to me about what’s hurting you, honey.”

After a few more sniffles, your eyes flicked to Bellamy and she gave a gentle, reassuring nod. You know she was dying to know what was going on so she could help. You looked down at your fingers, twisting them together as you started to unload on your best friend and her dad, leaving out the moment in the parking garage, for obvious reasons. “...And Jake saw me kissing Josh and he said some really shitty things…and maybe I deserved it, yanno?” You shrugged, confused by your own feelings, “He made me feel disgusted with myself, but I…can’t stop thinking about him. Part of me still likes him and I hate myself for it…And I like Josh too, of course I like him. He’s so sweet and he’s funny and he doesn’t make me insane, but I just-.” You couldn’t find the right words to describe what you were feeling, but Mr. Cole and Bell both listened to your ramblings with no judgment. “God…I can’t even imagine what dad would say.”

You could tell Bellamy had so much she wanted to say, but her dad spoke up first, “I think he would say that you went with your gut and you shouldn’t punish yourself for that. You may have made a few missteps, but that’s life, Y/N. You can either make decisions with your heart or your head, and though the outcomes may be different, neither choice is wrong… Now given what the boy said, I can confidently say that your father would’ve made him eat his words and his teeth.” He released a soft chuckle. It was times like this when you realized just how close he and your dad were. He could form sentences to sound exactly the same way your father would put them, “Girls, I have to get back to work but you can call me later. I love you both.”

“Love you, dad! I’ll call once you’re home, I wanna see mom too.” She hung up the call after you waved bye and mumbled a ‘love you.’

You flung your arms around your best friend, pulling her backwards to fall into the mattress with you, “Thank you for sharing your dad, B…and thank you for just being you. I wouldn’t be able to get through life without you.” You planted a hard peck on her cheek, making sure to pop your lips when you pulled away.

She forced a grimace as he wiped the wet splotch from her face, “Pea, my dad loves you like you’re his own, hell you practically are. I don’t think of it as sharing. You’re my sister, you know that.” She rolled on top of you, grasping your face to return a sloppy peck to the middle of your forehead, “I’m gonna make some breakfast. You hungry?” She popped up from the bed, heading for the door.

“No. I’m gonna shower and try to get my shit together.” You pushed yourself to stand and snatched your phone from the nightstand. The screen illuminated as you pulled the charging cord, showcasing a few text notifications. You pulled the old hoodie off and folded it, tucking it back into the safety of your closet for the next time you’ll need it, and made the short walk to your bathroom. Allowing the water time to heat up, you finally opened the new messages, three from Josh, one from Jake…

Josh 8:11pm: Y/N i wanted that kiss but if there’s something between you and my brother then tell me. Why did he say that?

Josh 8:32pm: Can you at least answer me to tell me you made it home okay? You were crying when you left

Josh 12:02am: Okay I’m trying to give you space but I’m going a little crazy worrying about you Y/N please

A new kind of pain rippled through your chest at his messages and you knew you owed him an explanation.

You 10:56am: I’m sorry, Josh. I didn’t mean to worry you. I made it home and just went to bed early. There was something with me and Jake or at least I thought there was. I never should’ve kissed you the first time, it wasn’t fair to either of you. I’m just really confused about my feelings.

You hit send and swiped out of the thread to read Jake’s single message, only it wasn’t a text, it was a voice message. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you clicked play to listen, his slurred speech coming through the speaker.

Jake 2:35am: *inaudible grumbling* … Youuuu… ha ha…. You really have me soooo *hiccup-burp* so fucked up… I don’t know hoooow you do it, peach…ha ha ha ha…peeeeeach. *glass clattering* You love it when I call you th-that. My sweet pea- *hiccup* My sweet peach… But you’re not miiiiine, are you? Nooooo. Naaaah. You’re too good for me…drive me fucking craaaazy, baby… *childish giggle* You and that goddamn mouth…just love to… press… my but- *droning snore* Shit…*more grumbling* ha ha. She…loves it…

What the fuck…

You listened to it again. And then again. The bathroom was filled with steam by the time you put your phone down and stepped into the shower. His message continued to replay in your head, the nauseating rush of butterflies growing more powerful each time you thought over it. You had him fucked up??? Did he even know what kind of effect he had on you? You finished washing up and pulled a towel around you to go back to your room. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you let his voice play one more time, catching on one thing that hit you with a head rush; Your nickname. Albeit accidental, caught in a boozy hiccup, but it was there. Spoken through Jake’s lips with that intoxicating rasp that made you weak in the knees. But it didn’t matter… None of it mattered anymore because you sent him away, told him to leave you be and that’s what he did. Would you have acted differently if you’d heard his message before he’d shown up? You shook your head, trying to dispose of the thoughts altogether, and started getting dressed.

When you walked into the kitchen, Bellamy was sitting on the counter, eating a bagel, “Hey, babe…” She mumbled cautiously around her bite of food.

You looked up at her as you pulled the fridge open, “What’s up?”

“Would you be like…upset if maybe…Sam came over later?” She lifted her shoulders, bracing for you to tell her that you would absolutely be upset, but it was the complete opposite.

You chuckled at her, “Bell, of course not.” Grabbing a string cheese, you closed the door and leaned on the counter beside her, “I love that weird little guy.” There was a pause and you turned your head to see her smiling shyly as she typed on her phone, “You like him don’t you?”

She looked up at you, her smiling growing, “I think I do, Y/N. Don’t tell him that, I can’t let it go to his head.” She bumped your shoulder with her own, laughing quietly, “We’ve been hanging out a lot when our schedules line up. Most of his classes are either early morning or early afternoon. He goes to CCA.”

“Oh yeah, you said he’s majoring in photography, right?”

“Yeah! He’s actually really fucking talented too…Hang on.” Bellamy held her phone up, opening instagram to find his account, “Look at these pictures, they’re unreal.”

You took the phone from her and scrolled through the array of photos. A mix of landscapes and portraits, even a few wildlife. You were quickly noticing how much he favored film over digital, but nevertheless, his talent was undeniable. Scrolling for a few more seconds, you were about to give her phone back when one portrait grabbed your attention. You tapped on the tiny square to get a full view. Jake. A black hat, wild hair and an intimidating glare, his eyes staring straight into the lens. He looked exactly like the Jake you knew, yet different…younger maybe? You slid out of the app and handed your friend the cell, “You’re right, he does have talent. Those are all amazing.” You looked away, peeling the wrapper from your string cheese.

She clicked on instagram again, the screen popping right back to the photo of Jake, “Don’t do this to yourself, sweet pea… He doesn’t deserve you, not with the way he treats you and definitely not after what he said.” She jumped down from the counter with a sigh, “You have to understand that, babe. You are worth so much more than what he’s reducing you to.”

You wanted to argue, to tell her that he wasn’t the guy she thinks. He was sweet in his own warped and twisted way. She thought he was sadistic…maybe he is…but not always. Not in the way he held your hand or how he always made sure you had lunch when you worked with him. The way his tongue would beg for permission before slipping against your own…But arguing was no use, she made up her mind about him, “Yeah, Bell. I know…I uhh- I’m gonna go get a coffee and maybe check out a few of the local shops.” You turned away and stalked out of the kitchen, wanting nothing more than to escape everything for a bit, “I’ll be back later. Love you.”

After getting your coffee, you wandered through the streets, slipping in and out of different locally owned stores. You found a cute little thrift store that you wound up spending over an hour in, sifting through vintage t-shirts and knick knacks that could be considered relics. When you finally started your trek back home, it was slipping into early evening. The apartment was too quiet when you entered and you found Bellamy napping on the couch. Deciding to let her be, you went into your room and followed suit, stripping out of your clothes to pull on an oversized tee and some boxer shorts, and fell into bed for a nap of your own. You opened your music app and clicked on your ‘Dad’s Favorites’ playlist, being met with the distortion heavy opening of War Pigs by Black Sabbath. Placing the phone on the opposite side of the bed, you snuggled beneath the warm blanket and allowed yourself to drift.

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*bzzbzzzzzbzzbzz*

You woke up to the feeling of your phone vibrating beside your head. Snatching it up from the pillow, you squinted through tired eyes, focusing enough to swipe the button and lay the device over your ear with a groggy, “Hello?”

“Y/N, hey…You answered…”

You shot up into a sitting position, pulling the phone in front of your face to be sure it was who you thought. Slowly bringing it back to your ear, you squeezed your eyes shut, “Josh… What’s up?” You tried to sound normal but you’re sure he could hear the anxiety in your voice.

“I wanted to apologize for not texting you back earlier, the store was slammed all day. We did really good in sales, but the order is gonna be a bitch to put away next friday.” The casual conversation threw you off a bit, but you were lying if you said it wasn’t comforting.

Your nerves eased at his usual joyous tone, “That’s great about the sales, though. And if you need me to come in to help out with the delivery, I’d be more than happy to, Josh.”

“Y’know, I might hold you to that, especially since I don’t know where to pick up with your organizing in the storage room.” You could hear his smile through the phone, but then there was a shift, “Hey, listen…” You braced yourself for what was coming, staying silent, “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable about anything. I like you, Y/N… You’re cool as hell and such a sweetheart. But if there’s business between you and Jake, I’ll step back.”

You released the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “I like you too, Josh, really…and not just as my boss, but-” You took a pause, not really sure what to say, “It just that- Jake and me, whatever it is or was…it’s unresolved and I don’t know where we stand right now.” You dropped your voice to a whisper, the bleak shame settling in, “I made a complete mess of everything and I don’t know how to begin to fix any of it…”

“There’s nothing to fix with me, consider the slate clean. As for him… Jake is easy. Just ask him.” He stated it so plainly, like it was the most obvious answer, “I know he wears his bad guy mask pretty well, but it’s just an act. He’s not good when it comes to feelings ever since-.” He stopped like he was about to share something sacred, “He just has a hard time dealing with his emotions. You have to push a bit and he will push back, but he can only fight for so long. I promise, I know exactly how he is.”

“I don’t know…” You fell back against the pillows, talking to Josh like he was your middle school best friend, “He’s so confusing, Josh. Just when I start believing that he likes me, he’s saying mean things or he’s flirting with Olivia. I just can’t help but feel like he only serves to hurt me.” You sat up again, realizing how shitty all of this probably was for him to hear, “Fuck. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

He was quick to shut you down, “Don’t fucking apologize. This is the shit friends talk about. We’re friends, aren’t we?” He let out a breathy laugh and put on a valley girl accent, almost like he was mocking Olivia, “Baaabe, like, you know that, you can tell me, like anyyyything.” When he heard you giggling he broke character, “Okay, seriously, Y/N. Just talk to him and find out where his head is at. If not for yourself, do it for me…If he doesn’t want what you’re selling, I know somebody who’s dying to take it off the market.” He was laughing again, a sweet, melodic sound, “Listen, I gotta get everything cleaned up for closing but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

You were smiling wide, feeling the hot blush spread across your face, “See you tomorrow, boss… and thank you, Josh. This- I like being able to talk to you, it’s nice.”

“Feelings mutual, Y/N. Goodnight.” He hung up the phone before you could respond.

Pulling the phone from your ear, you checked the time, feeling a comforting warmth spread through your body. 8:39pm. You slept a lot longer than you wanted to, but you felt great after the conversation with Josh. Flinging the duvet from yourself, you rolled out of bed and heard voices coming from the living room. You stretched your limbs as you remembered that Bellamy invited Sam over and made your way out to say hi. They were both on the couch, Sam leaned back with his bare feet kicked up on the coffee table and Bell, stretched across the cushions, with her legs over his. You stepped closer, making your presence known, “Made yourself right at home, huh, Sam?” You said it with a laugh so he would know you were joking.

“I actually did, yes. The moving truck is downstairs, I was waiting for you to wake up to help carry the big stuff.” He flipped his palms up with a shrug, “I’m surprised you’re not spending the night with Jake since he has tomorrow off.”

Bellamy pulled her legs from his lap to sit up, smacking his arm, “You’re brother is a dickhead, Sammy. She’s done with him.” She said it with finality, like she was making the decision for you.

He dropped his feet to the floor, looking from her to you, “Wait, what did I miss? Weren’t you guys like-.” He poked his fingers together, making kissy noises.

“I thought we were, but shit happens, I guess?” You dragged a hand over your face with a sigh.

Bellamy popped up, “He made her think that he liked her and then practically called her a whore. Not to mention the way he flirts with that other girl.” She shuffled around his legs to walk to the kitchen, “I’m gonna grab another beer, do you want one, babe?” She pointed at him, receiving a nod in return as she disappeared through the doorway.

When you turned back to him, his eyes narrowed, giving you a questioning stare and prompting you to tell him what happened, “Look, Sam, I don’t know, okay? We hangout, have fun, and then he changes in a flash and becomes this malevolent force that just loves to jumble my brain. I can’t do it, the back and forth, it’s- He’s fucking twisted but…I still feel this pull towards him, I hate it.”

Sam sat up straight on the couch, “He’s got some shit to work out, that’s for sure… And I don’t know all sides to the story, but there’s something you have to understand about Jake.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked up at you, “He’s barely even looked at a woman since his last girlfriend. Yeah, he flirts, he’s had hookups, but it’s never serious, not to him.”

“Nothing excuses what he said, Sam.” Bellamy chimed in as she came out of the kitchen, “He’s been treating her like trash since the minute he met her. Brother or not, you can’t sit here and defend him.” She handed him the IPA and sat down beside him.

“Bellamy, just let him talk. I wanna hear this.” You sunk into the chair opposite the couch and turned your attention back to Sam, “What were you saying?” You ignored your best friend’s scoff as you encouraged him to continue.

Twisting the cap from his bottle, he took a long drink before speaking up, “I’m not defending him. I just think there’s a reason that he’s acting like this.” He took another drink and placed the beer on the table, “His last girlfriend, Ivy, she really fucked him up. They were together for four years, really fucking lovey dovey.” Sam shook his head as he recalled, “We all kind of thought they were a forever deal, even mom and dad. Jake was so deep in love, he talked about moving across the country with her because she wanted to live in New York… Two years in and he was gonna drop his entire life to stay close to her.” He paused, scratching his chin, “He’ll kill me for telling you this.”

“Sam, please. Help me understand.” You stood up again, pacing back and forth, “Explain to me what I could’ve done for him to treat me like this, because I can’t keep forgiving his behavior. He’s letting me in, making me feel like he might really want me, just to push me away again. Over and over, and I can’t do it, I won’t.” You were rambling out of pure anxiety and frustration, “It’s not fair… I made it clear that I liked him, that I wanted him. We had fun on his birthday…at least I thought we did. We stayed up all night, completely wrapped up in one another, then the next thing I know, he wakes up a completely different person and kicks me out? I mean, what the hell was that?” You stopped to take a breath and Sam was quick to raise a question.

“Wait, you- He let you stay the night?” His confusion was clear as you nodded your head, “Like, slept in the same bed?”

Now you were confused, “Yeah… He begged me to stay. Not that he really had to.” Your shoulders dropped in defeat, “It was kind of sweet, when I woke up, I mean.” A faint smile appeared as you remember the warmth of his body draped over you, “He was out cold, laying on top of me. Fuck, he was like, clinging to me. But then he woke up and it was like a switch flipped… He pushed away from me, wouldn’t even look at me. I tried to ask him what was wrong, he gave some bullshit excuse and practically told me to get the fuck out.” You wrapped your arms around yourself as you stood in the middle of the room.

Bellamy stood up and came over to you, “He kicked you out after you slept with him? Why didn’t you tell me that when I picked you up, babe?” She was mad, that was clear, “I would have went straight up there and beat his ass. What an asshole!”

“We didn’t have sex…” Your voice was quiet as you stared out to the balcony, “But we still did things… That’s why I didn’t say anything. I felt used and I was embarrassed, Bell…”

“You didn’t sleep with him and he still let you stay? All night?” Sam was standing now too, trying to connect the pieces.

You released a huff of annoyance at having to repeat yourself, “No, I didn’t sleep with him and yes, I stayed all night. We made out, cuddled, wrestled a little bit and listened to music and then we fell asleep in the same bed, wrapped up in each other. Any more questions?” Pulling away from your friend, you stalked towards the sliding door to get a breath of air.

“He likes you, Y/N… Like, really fucking likes you.” Sam let out a chuckle and you turned around to glare at him, “No, I’m serious! It makes sense now!”

“No it doesn’t, Sam! Nothing makes sense!”

He flinched at your loud tone, “It does though…” He held his hands up in defense, waiting for you to lash out, but you stayed quiet, allowing him to explain, “Jake doesn’t let himself get close to anyone anymore. Not since Ivy. He barely hooks up, but when he does, it’s always some girl he meets in a bar that he knows he’ll likely never have to see again and he’s sending them home the minute he’s finished. Then here you come.” He was smiling like he solved an impossible puzzle, “I knew something was up with him. That day that I met you, when you came into the store and he forced me out?” You nodded to let him know that you remembered, “He was off his game. Normally, nothing can bother Jake, he’s always so sure of himself. But he was messing things up, putting shit where it didn’t go, and just overall in a shitty mood. Kept checking his phone and staring at the clock… Then you came in and there was this shift. For someone who doesn’t know him, it wouldn’t have been noticeable, but I noticed.”

You thought back on it for a moment, “You said he was on edge because of me…I wanted to ask what you meant but he was shoving you out the door before I got the chance.”

“I just kind of forgot all about it, but him sleeping with you- or not sleeping with but- well, you know what I mean.” He was waving his hands to get his point across, “Anyways… You said he kicked you out in the morning?” Nodding your head slowly, you told him about the entire interaction you had with his brother that Sunday morning, “He got freaked out. That’s it, I’m telling you!”

“Freaked out about what? He woke up with the same girl he asked to spend the night. What is there to get freaked out about?” Bellamy stared at Sam with her eyebrows raised high, clearly frustrated.

He slapped his palm over his forehead, “How can I simplify this…” He took a deep breath, “Jake hasn’t wanted anything past sex with women for two years. After Ivy, he changed. He-he’s closed off, doesn’t let anyone in, doesn’t let himself get close to people or let people get close to him. Ivy fucked him up, destroyed his trust.” He was talking with his hands, waving them around as he explained, “But he likes you and he refuses to admit it to himself. That’s why he freaked, because when he woke up, all cuddled up with you, it scared him. He’s afraid to get close to you because he thinks you’re gonna hurt him just like she did, Y/N.” Sam tossed himself onto the couch with a grin, proud of himself for cracking the case.

You let it all soak in, but something was still digging at your brain, “What did Ivy do to him, Sam?” You didn’t know what Jake was like before, but the way his little brother described it, she must’ve done a good bit of damage.

“That’s something he’s gonna have to tell you himself, it’s not my place.” He shrugged, leaving it at that, before grabbing Bellamy’s hand to pull her down on his lap, “Sorry, Y/N.”

You were fiddling with your fingers in silence for a few minutes while they both stared at you, completely lost in your own head. Your eyes went back to the balcony door as you gazed out at the city lights and then you were moving, heading for the front door and slipping your vans on. Bell called after you, asking what you were doing, but you just grabbed your keys from the hook and left.

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“Come on…” You had been standing outside for at least 20 minutes, waiting for somebody to come through the front door of the building so that you could slip in. You tried calling Jake multiple times, but he would just send you straight to voicemail every time. Just as you were about to give up completely, by some stroke of luck, a man was coming outside. You rushed to get into the door before it shut and went straight for the stairwell, running up to Jake’s floor. When you made it to his door, you hesitated, wondering if what you were doing was a bad idea. Pushing the nerves aside, you shook out your hands to wrangle your nerves before leaving three knocks against the door. You could hear him shuffling around inside, but he wasn’t answering the door. You knocked again. No Answer. Refusing to leave without talking to him, you reached for the doorknob, chancing it with a slight twist. You were surprised when it turned and the door popped open, “Jake?” You said it quietly, unsure if you should have gone in at all. Closing the door softly, you walked a little further in, calling his name a bit louder, “Jake…”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He came out of the kitchen and walked by you, straight into the living room, making no move to send you back out, “How did you get in?”

You kicked your shoes off by the door and went after him, “You weren’t answering and it was unlocked. You ignored my calls… I need to talk to you.”

Jake was slumped into the couch, a bottle of bourbon in his hand, “Now you wanna talk. Convenient.” He scoffed, lifting the bottle to his mouth for a short chug, “You said you didn’t wanna see me, told me to leave you alone. So I did. Now you can repay that fucking courtesy.” His voice was calm, not the slightest hint of aggression despite his words.

You inched closer until you were standing at the end of the couch, looking down at him, “Tell me about Ivy.” You watched his eyes go wide as he swallowed hard, “What did she do to you, Jake?”

“Who the fuck- I’m gonna kill Josh.” He sat up, slamming the bottle on the coffee table with a bang, “There’s nothing to tell. It’s in the past and it’s nobody’s fucking business.” Now his chest was rising and falling hard, angry huffs pushing through his nose.

You didn’t come here to upset him, you came for clarity and he was the only one who could provide it. You put on the softest tone you could muster, “Baby, look at me…” His eyes flashed to you, a sad vulnerability in them that made your heart ache, “Why do you pull me in just to push me away? Tell me what she did, Jake, please.” He started to shake his head as you took a seat beside him, but you reached down, carefully taking his hand in yours, “How did she hurt you?”

He stared down at your hand wrapped around his, your thumb rubbing over his knuckles, “She left. That’s all people do is fucking lie and then leave.” He picked the bottle back up for another drink.

“Jake, I’m not leaving. I’m-“

“But you still lied, Y/N! You fucking lied right to my face!” His tone made you wince.

You pulled your hand from his, taking his face instead, “You’re right, I did. I’ll own up to that, Jake. I lied and I’m sorry.” You tilted his head, forcing him to look at you, “I can’t take that back, but you have to know it was only twice. I kissed him before I came into work and I don’t know why I did it, but then he came back and it happened again and I just-… You have my mind so messed up.” You watched him roll his eyes, ready to argue, “I’m not blaming you, I made the choice, that was all me. But you’re not entirely innocent either.”

He gripped your wrists gently, removing your hands from his skin, “I don’t know what you want me to say. What do you want to hear, Y/N?” He was lifting the bottle back to his lips when you snatched it from his hands.

“I just want the truth, Jake! You fucking string me along and just when i start to fall a little bit for you, thinking you might catch me, you cut the fucking string and leave me to fall on my face.” You put the bottle on the far end of the table, away from him, “If Sam’s right and you’re just afraid that I’ll hurt you, then tell me that. But if it’s all just some game, then it’s over. You don’t get to question me about what I’m doing or who I’m doing it with, it’s not fair!” Your voice was rising out of pure frustration, but he remained quiet, staring at the floor, “Tell me what you want, Jake… If you want me to leave, I will walk out that door right now and you’ll never have to see me again.” You waited for him to say something, anything, but he was silent, still avoiding your gaze, “Okay… I’ll text Josh my resignation.” Standing from the couch, you looked down at him, giving him one more chance before heading for the door.

Just as you slid your shoes on and grasped the doorknob, his hand was grasping onto your shirt, tugging you backwards, “Please don’t go.” His big brown eyes were pleading with you, holding all the emotions that his words couldn’t carry, “It’s not a game… Not anymore. I-.” He paused, fighting to find what he wanted to say, “I’ll tell you about her, just- Not tonight… Don’t make me talk about it tonight, peach.” He sounded so deflated, the complete opposite of the Jake you’d come to know.

“Okay.” Your hands went to his arms, sliding up over his shoulders to cup his face, “We don’t have to talk about her tonight, baby, it’s okay.” You kept a gentle tone, guiding your arms around his neck to pull him into an embrace. Despite the tension keeping his body stiff, you held him close, “Do you want me to stay, Jake?”

His movements were hesitant, but he slowly brought his arms up, circling them around your waist, “I do.” His face was buried in your neck as he mumbled the two words.

“Are you still gonna want this in the morning?” It came out a whisper.

“I will.” His body finally began to relax against you, “Promise. That night you stayed, my birthday…” His was still murmuring against your throat, “I slept so well. For the first time in so long.” He was tightening his arms around you as the confession spilled from his mouth.

“Then why did you kick me out?” You brought your hands back to his shoulders, trying to push him away so you could look at him, but his grip remained locked.

Jake released a soft sigh, “That shirt you picked to wear- the old store shirt… That’s the one she always reached for.” His lips were tickling over your skin as he spoke in a solemn tone, “When I woke up, I was groggy. I saw the shirt, your body underneath me…felt like the last time I woke up with her and it made me sick.” He finally lifted his head from your neck, meeting your eyes, “When I came out of the bathroom, I wanted to tell you to stay but the look on your face… I knew you’d want an explanation and I couldn’t-.”

“Whatever she did, whatever pain she caused you,” You held his liquor-blushed cheeks, “I’m not here as a reminder, let me help you forget it, Jake… Just let me in.”

“I’ll try” He let his head fall back into the crook of your neck, letting the silence take over as he breathed you in. You held onto him, pulling your fingers through his tangled hair, until he finally spoke up again, “Can we go to bed, peach?”

His arms tightened around your waist again as he lifted you from the floor. You wrapped your legs around him, keeping a grip on his shoulders as you whispered, “Yeah, baby. Let’s go to bed.” Allowing him to carry you into his bedroom and kick the door shut behind him.

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[sovaharbor]

also haha period in 3 days <- totally not traumatized by last month where i had 3 hours of the literal worst cramping in my entire life to the point i nearly hurled from the pain

always funny how every month im like damn why do i feel like DOGSHIT and then i look at my samsung health tracker and go oh. cool. thats why. got it