#Sometimes I just need a reminder of why I’m happy I’m not in college anymore LOL

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Live footage of me at my critical care conference that I signed up for

(Art from Jojo’s linkeduniverse)

[petri808]

@bkdksecretsanta giftee Doodle_cakess on Twitter or Ig 🎁🤶🏻🎄

First day of Freshman year at a University in Tokyo, Katsuki Bakugou is ready to throw off the image of a child and embrace this new step. He wasn’t always the most mature… and yeah, he did have a reputation as a bully. That all ended in high school, but the label followed him all three years because he was surrounded by people who knew him all his life. Not anymore. This is his chance to start fresh in a new city hundreds of miles away from home and anyone that really knows him. 

“Hey, Baku-bro, wait up!” Eijiro Kirishima waves as he gets closer. 

Bakugou stops so the man can catch up, then the two continue towards the bus stop. He’d found an apartment close to the campus, but it was a little out of his price range, so he put up an ad on the school’s blog for a roommate and Kirishima had answered. They’d moved in just under a month ago, and so far, the arrangement works. The guy is a bit chatty for Bakugou, but in a way that’s comforting because it reminds him of someone else, he once knew. “I think I’m gonna like my classes,” Bakugou opens the dialogue. “You?”

Kirishima drops his school bag next to the door as he takes his shoes off. “I was worried ‘bout linear algebra, but the guy I sit next to seems super smart nerdy, said he’d help me if I need it.”

“Lucky you,” not that Bakugou really cares, but he is happy for his friend.

College is supposed to include having fun, you know, the whole spreading one’s wings, trying new things, the last hurrah before settling into a career. Each weekend, Kirishima harasses Bakugou to go out with him to the bar, or an izakaya restaurant, or just get out in general instead of being a hermit. Sometimes he relents, but mostly stays cooped up in his room studying if he’s not at his part-time job at the nearby convenience store. Having to work and go to school is rough around test times, but he’s lucky the boss is flexible with his hours. Kirishima also has a part-time job at a restaurant as a line cook. The benefit for the two were the leftovers he’d bring home that helped with their monthly food budgeting. 

Kirishima knocks on the door frame of Bakugou’s bedroom. “A couple friends’n I are gonna go to Shiono for drinks, come with us Katsuki,” he coaxes. “I wanna intro you to someone.”

“Who?” Bakugou asks without looking up from his phone. 

“The guy from my class,” Kirishima answers, “the one I told you about.”

Bakugou groans. “Why?” What’s so interesting about this nerdy math whiz that requires him to leave the warmth of their apartment?

“Why? Ugh!” Kirishima whines, “why not! Come on, midterm’s over, it’s the holiday season, so let’s celebrate a little. My treat.”

If this conversation is like all the others, his roommate is not going to let up easily. But Kirishima must really want him to go out this time, because he rarely offers to treat. Bakugou rolls his eyes, “okay, fine! But I’m not staying out till super late, I gotta work in the morning.”

“Cool, cool,” Kirishima throws him his coat he’s been holding as if he already knew his roommate will say yes, “let’s go!”

As soon as they step out of the heated apartment building into the winter night, Bakugou pulls the collar up tighter around his neck to block out the cold. Powdery flurries float around, so light and delicate, they don’t last long enough to blanket the ground, but they surely send a chill as they melt down the back of your neck. The izakaya Shiono is a mere three blocks away, through sidewalks lined with lighted trees and cheerful pedestrians snapping selfies to celebrate that time of year. Kirishima chattered away, talking about some kind of amazing donburi bowl with the most succulent pork that melts in the mouth that Bakugou just must try when they get to the restaurant. It did sound good… and he hasn’t eaten dinner yet, so maybe he’ll get that for dinner. 

Bakugou knows two of the people that are likely going to be at the restaurant, so the only stranger will be this classmate Kirishima sings praises for. After they step into the restaurant and hand over their coats, the server guides them to a large booth at the back of the room. He admits this is a cozy place, no wonder Kirishima likes it. The atmosphere feels mellow and welcoming, not to mention the air alone smells delicious. Bakugou follows behind his roommate and braces for the meeting. He’ll just have a couple of beers then go home.  

“What’up guys!” Kirishima boisterously makes their presence known by posing with his chest puffed out at the front of the table.

The three men in a high-spirited conversation in the booth all turn at the same time, answering back with various responses, smiles, and gestures— that is until one of the men sees Bakugou, and Bakugou sees who the man is. Suddenly, all the air in the room is sucked out leaving a strange void with only the sound of white noise ringing in his ears taking him back in time to a past he’s trying to run from. His eyes widen in a mixture of fear and surprise, voice cracking from the drying throat, “Izu—ku?” Bakugou questions the green-haired young man in the booth. He hasn’t seen Izuku Midoriya in four years.

The night started out so well with the interesting and humorous topic the guys were just talking about. Midoriya instantly deflates into the booth chair with a quiver in his tone. “K-Kaachan?”  

Suddenly, Bakugou feels like he’s taken a knockout punch to the gut. Why, of all the people… the one person he never thought he’d see again or rather was afraid to and based on Midoriya’s body language, he’s not thrilled to see him either. 

“Whoa! You two know each other?” Kirishima queries in excitement as his attention swings back and forth between the two men.  

Ugh! Of course, his roommate doesn’t read the room. “Uh, yeah…” Bakugou mumbles, averting his eyes to the ground. “We were close as kids, but I haven’t seen Izuku since middle.” Kirishima hasn’t picked up on the tension, but the other two people sitting silently in the booth next to Midoriya clearly has if the side-glances to each other are a giveaway. 

Kirishima turns to his classmate. “Dude, it’s so crazy that you know my roommate! I’m so glad he finally came out with me!”

“Yeah…” Midoriya’s eyes immediately dart around like a cornered animal looking for a way out. “I used to know him.” He then suddenly looks at the imaginary watch on his wrist. “Oh, shucks, I totally forgot I have to be somewhere…” he gets up from the booth and tosses some money onto the table for the drink he’d purchased. “I… I’ll see you guys later.” Midoriya feigns an excuse and immediately leaves the restaurant. 

Shocked, Kirishima turns back to his roommate. “What just happened? Did something happen between you two or something?! Dude I’ve never seen Izu react like that.”

“You could say that…” Bakugou responds gruffly not wanting to go into detail.

“No way, dude!” Kirishima grabs Bakugou by the shoulders. “Well, whatever it is you gotta fix it then! Because it’s bad to lose a childhood friend!” He physically turns his roommate around, points him towards the exit and shoves. “Go after him!”

Bakugou stumbles a step, then half turns to confront Kirishima. “Why?!” He growls. “It’s obvious he doesn’t wanna be around me and I don’t blame him ‘cause I was a complete asshole back then.”

“I don’t care.” Unafraid or phased by his roommate’s gruff attitude, “don’t argue, just go,” Kirishima pushes Bakugou again. “I’d hate it if my roommate and friend can’t get along together over something that happened as dumb young kids. You’re adults now, solve it like adults!”

With a growl, Bakugou relents and stomps out of the restaurant so quickly that he forgets to grab his coat. Damn that Kirishima for being right! But he doesn’t even know where Midoriya is heading, so how is he supposed to find him?! That argument dies when he sees the man standing at the bus stop. Bakugou looks up at the sky for a moment. Is fate just aligning tonight to force his hand? Kirishima didn’t even ask the reason why they haven’t been in contact before making him chase after Midoriya. Doesn’t know how badly he’d hurt his childhood friend, bullied him for three years and how he couldn’t blame the man for leaving and going to a high school in a whole ‘nother city to get away from him. If he’d wanted to make amends, he would’ve looked for Midoriya back then, but he felt like he didn’t have a right to, didn’t deserve to ask for forgiveness, especially when he still didn’t understand at the time why he’d been such a dick. Now he does, or at least he’s accepted the reason and he hoped to lock that away for the rest of his life rather than admit it. 

“Fuck…” Bakugou growls under the heated breath of mist. The cold starts to bite without his coat, but if he went back to retrieve it, Izuku might be gone when he returns. He crosses his arms and walks quickly towards the bus stop where Izuku stood unaware that he’s followed. “Izuku!” He calls out once he’s within just a few more steps. “Izuku, I need to talk to you.”

Midoriya whips around with wild eyes and takes a step back with his hands raised in front of him. “Go away Kaachan! I don’t wanna see you!”

Bakugou takes another tentative step forward. “Eijiro told me to chase after—”

The man’s body instantly stiffens in anger, hackles raised like a cat warning off an enemy. Oh, that really pisses Midoriya off. “If that’s the only reason!—”

His hands gesture wildly in exasperation, “Fuck, it’s… It’s not!” Bakugou snaps. He takes a step forward as he lowers his tone of cracking desperation. “I-I… he’s right! I need to apolo—”

Midoriya takes another step back. “Don’t, Kaachan!” He intensifies the stop gesture with both hands raised. “I don’t. Wanna. Hear it! Just leave me alone!”

“No!” Bakugou stomps forward a step. “I’m not leaving!”

“Why is it so important?!” Groaning, Midoriya throws up his hands in exasperation. “I don’t need your apology; I just want to continue to forget like I’ve done for the last four years!”

“Because…”

“Because what?!” Frustrated, Midoriya fixes a hardened glare straight into Bakugou’s eyes. “If it took Eijiro telling you to apologize, clearly you didn’t figure it out on your own! Do you really understand just how much you hurt me?!”

“I know it was wrong to bully you…”

“Pfft! Hahahaha,” Midoriya suddenly raises his gaze to the sky as he bursts into sarcastic laughter. “Is that why you think I felt hurt?” He turns his back to shun Bakugou as he starts walking away again. “You haven’t figured out anything. Goodbye, Kaachan.” 

That reaction catches him completely by surprise and the shock keeps his feet planted while he processes the situation. He’s never seen Izuku like this, so sarcastic and punchy. As Bakugou watches the distance between them grow, he notices how much broader Midoriya’s back has become. No longer the skinny twerp, his old friend has filled out— looks good. Because of his childish stupidity, he lost the chance to watch him become a man, to grow into an even cuter version of the freckle-faced, curly green-haired boy that meant too much to him, and now as that back slowly fades into the wintry flurries, he’s about to squander this second chance. But maybe he should just let this go. If Midoriya is happy now and his presence is only causing him pain, perhaps he should leave… leave this university, this city, just go away as his consequence?

“Fuck that!” Bakugou growls beneath his breath. He musters up the courage he was missing all those years ago. “I fucking love you, okay?!” He screams at the top of his lungs. “I don't want to, but I fucking do— can’t help it! That’s why I was so dumb, that’s why I was an ass, but I was 12! I didn’t know shit at that age!”

Midoriya stops dead in his tracks but doesn’t turn around just yet. In a low tone he responds inquisitively yet with a snarky undercurrent. He knows Bakugou was never one to lie about something like this, so he knows there’s truth to his words but, “that sounds ridiculous. Why would you hurt the person you say you love?”

Bakugou’s body and voice deflates, it’s a fair question which hurts to admit. “Back then I didn’t understand what I felt was love. It just felt weird— made me feel awkward around you, so I drove you away instead.” He sighs, “when I finally figured it all out, it was too late. You’d moved away and I didn’t know where you went.” He snorts a depressing laugh. “Know how I figured it out? One of the girls in a class dropped a manga under their desk, so I picked it up and it was one of those boy’s love manga’s. I felt so stupid.”

“You could’ve asked my mom.” Midoriya’s voice softens to the teary tone of the man’s words. “She would’ve told you.”

“I didn’t think I deserved you. I still don’t think I deserve you.” Bakugou drops down into a squat with his head in his hands. “You’re such a cinnamon roll, everyone loves you, so smart, while I’m a dick who people steer clear of… I’m glad I got that out finally, it’s enough for me. I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”

“Kaachan…” Midoriya sighs and leans down in front of the man. “Have you figured out why I was so hurt when you pushed me away?” Bakugou shakes his head without looking up. “Sure, the bullying hurt, but it’s because I loved you so much, you are more than just a friend to me, and to have my crush treat me like a stranger, I couldn’t bear it.”

“Even more reason I don’t deserve you,” Bakugou mumbles. 

Midoriya forces Bakugou’s chin up. “Do you still love me?”

“Yes.” He states matter of fact. 

“Then I’ll decide what you deserve or not,” Midoriya smiles. “What was the chance of ending up at the same school, with the same classmate in common? Fate gave us a second chance, so shouldn’t we take it?”

Bakugou’s head is spinning, and heart is soaring. Never in a million years would he have seen this coming. Midoriya really is too good for him. “I swear I’ll never hurt you again.”

Midoriya smiles wide but narrows his eyes, “I know, but if you do,” he open-hand taps Bakugou’s cheek sternly, “I’ll make your life a living hell…”

[rocksinmuffin]

a thank you that was supposed to be anonymous

so I wanted to submit on anon but I didn’t want to spam your inbox so I’m sending it here. this blog is literally from high school so ignore the questionable content + username + bandom + the fact that it doesn’t follow you. i promise my og blog was an avid follower (I’m just reminiscing now) it’s the only tumblr login I remember + tumblr sniped my actual transformers hell account back in 2020 for hoarding usernames and won’t give it back fuck them 🫠

but anyway.

hi muffin! I know you aren’t too crazy abt pda esp anon pda but I’m a little shy. I wanted to say I started following you my freshman year of college deep in my transformers phase + I’m finally graduating. I don’t rly keep up w tf anymore (that may change when the new movie comes out lmao) but during the time you were definitely a source of happiness of mine. I always looked forward to checking your blog everyday + seeing the updates. I just wanna say thank u for getting me through that transitional period in my life. your writing would always uplift me when I had a bad day of class or I got a bad grade or I misinterpreted a social cue.

I’m going to be a middle grades ELA teacher and a lot o( my philosophy of teaching revolves around reminding my students that their writing has capacity to change lives + that it should be meaningful even if it seems silly to them… so I’m making it an effort to genuinely thank all of the writing blogs that changed my life and helped get me through my early college years.

thank you for everything you do. it’s hard to put your work out into the world and I genuinely appreciate that you do + want you to know that your writing (yes even if it was nsfw) really made an impact on me + gave me a reason to get up everyday.

——————————————

Submitted by @donnie–the–catcher

hey uhhhhhh this legitimately made me tear up. Like, this is just a silly little blog of writing that I do for fun and so it always blows me away when people tell me that it meant something to them or that it helped them get though tough times even if it was just a way to distract them from bigger problems happening in their lives and I’m just so touched.

Like, I see a lot of really petty infighting stuff in fandoms where people callout others for literally just not getting along with each other and trying to make it out like the other person is toxic for it and that’s a big part of why I don’t actually interact with a lot of people or join any discords or anything. But I don’t need to either because, like, this is the reason I post all my goofy and nasty fandom shit online for other people to see. Because what’s cringe or dumb for one person is gonna make another person smile or laugh. And that’s kind of what fanfiction is about. It’s to put your work out there and hope someone else has as fun reading it as you had writing it.

So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you for telling me this and thank you for enjoying this silly little blog. It means so much to me. And I think it’s so awesome that you are going to try and inspire kids to write. I know I was around that age when I started writing and sometimes the push you need is just having someone encouraging you and telling you that you can.

[sparklyslug]

15 questions!

Tagged by my blorbissimo @greenlikethesea! And @judasofsuburbia which reminded me I had this in my drafts lmaooooo! Stuff about me!!

1. Are you named after anyone?

I’m named after the biblical Hannah, mother of the prophet Samuel! I think mostly because my parents were tickled by the story of her crying at the temple because she wants a child so bad, and then bawling out the rabbi because he assumed she was drunk.

2. When was the last time you cried?

BIG FAT SOBS watching everything everywhere all at once over the weekend. Because of life stuff, I honestly do not know. I’m not a big crier, generally.

3. Do you have kids?

Nope! Being 32 means the window is narrowing for me I guess, and I am not. Sure. How I feel about that. This is more vulnerability than this format calls for tho whoops.

4. Do you lose sarcasm a lot?

Noooooo not really. I think I’m more of a hyperbole kind of gal.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Eyes

6. What’s your eye color?

She’s rocking that heterochromia BABYYY! My eyes are a ring of dark blue/grey and then inner rings/bubbles of blue and green. I love my eyes! They don’t work well but they’re pretty! Strictly ornamental!

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Scary movies WITH happy endings!

(I’m a HEA bitch for sure cmon)

8. Any special talents?

Small talk and chit chat. I’m not joking I legit prize myself on this. And I’m a good baker!

9. Where were you born?

New Yawk New Yawk

10. What are your hobbies?

Fandom, writing reading. Going to shows and concerts and things. Hanging with folks. Knitting sometimes? Running sometimes?

11. Do you have any pets?

Sweet baby girl Peaches the cat! Who is white and orange and about 5ish years old, big beautiful yellow eyes and very few teeth. I’ve had her just over a year and I LUB her

12. What sports do you play/have played?

I played softball through elementary and middle school (lol) and ran cross country and track in high school. If it counts I also did competitive(ish) ballroom dance in high school and a little bit of college.

13. How tall are you?

Around 5’4”. My drivers license LIES and says 5’6” I don’t even know why tbh. I like to think I project more height than I actually have.

14. Favorite subject in school?

English ahahaha duh that was my major too, and it was totally unplanned in the sense that I got to sophomore year of college and realized if I wanted to stay with my “intended” major of History I’d need an extra year or two in order to graduate, whereas if I just looked at the classes I had BEEN TAKING because they interested me and I enjoyed them, I’d have that English major sewn up in no time.

15. Dream job?

Man who even KNOWS anymore. I’m currently in what was once my dream job situation, and I still like it but can’t deny I’m underpaid and have been through some bumpy times that have taken the shine fully OFF. So I don’t know. I’d like to be a full time writer professionally but it’s the dream as in it is not SUPER realistic.

I’d love to work at the Globe Theater in but JEEZ LOUSIE THAT PAY IS SO LOW thought y’all subsidized the arts over there CRIPES.

[spoopylockerghost724]

Sidneys Origin (Part 2)

TW: mentioned lobotomy, some antiquated medical terms, negative views of mental illness (The story takes place in the 1950s, just because a character feels this way does not mean I agree), implied bipolar, depression, implied in patient treatment facility, from the perspective of a man cheating on his wife

Authors note: I’m sorry it’s short, I have finals coming up so this is the best I could do right now

Harmon sat at his desk in deep contemplation. He picked up the photograph of his beautiful wife. Sometimes he thought she knew, but that was unlikely. If she knew, she would yell at him and maybe kick him out of the house. He was late at the office again. Not because of Lilac; he could not return home as he felt too much guilt and shame to return home.

Lilac was a cheap replacement for the real thing. Lilac was vapid, shallow, and not as pretty. She was younger and more perky, but nothing like his wife.

He met his beautiful, ambitious Scarlett in college while he was in business school. She was studying biology and needed help finding the life sciences building. He didn’t know where it was at but agreed anyways. They both got lost and ended up spending the day chatting about their life. Apparently she wanted to get her masters in biology. She spoke so intelligently, and with such energy. He was smitten. Eventually they went on a date. One thing he learned about Scarlett was she had a smart mouth. He loved that about her. Scarlett’s sarcastic humor always got rid of any tension and made him laugh. And she could go on for hours about any topic that fascinated her with such passion. With Scarlett around, there was never a dull moment. They always had so much fun. He loved telling the story of how they met.

It pained him to admit; he thought perhaps he cheated on his wife due to her condition. When they had dated she told him of her mood swings and her history. He didn’t care. It never mattered, she was still perfect to him. She was fully recovered by the time they married.

Then, Harmon noticed little things that started happening. Little outbursts of crying and hysteria. He had never witnessed it before. He took her to a few different doctors. Eventually she was put on a new medication to help level her mood. She was much more calm, but still depressed. Harmon was excited when he heard about this great new procedure for people like Scarlett. He was told that it made the mental disease go away forever. Then he remembered a neighbor who had the operation. They don’t talk or laugh or smile anymore. Despite her mood swings, they were still happily married. Infidelity hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Around the time Sidney turned 12, he met Lilac. He knew not to even entertain the idea, but she reminded him a bit of Scarlett when she was well. Just appearance wise and with her happy attitude. She wasn’t Scarlett, but she made him feel like Scarlett used to.

Whenever the guilt came, he would come home with flowers and hugs and romantic dates. Still she seemed less enthusiastic than normal when he surprised her with dates and flowers. Maybe she did know, and that was why she was giving him the cold shoulder? He knew he couldn’t love Lilac, she was just nice to look at and someone to talk to. Nothing like Scarlett. He could talk to Scarlett about anything, but Lilac was judgmental. He was not allowed to cry in front of Lilac because, according to her, “Real men don’t cry”. Scarlett always let him cry and would be so gentle and kind.

Harmon knew he needed to fix his life. His son was, to put it bluntly, an unstable, dysfunctional, maladaptive, shut in. He, unfortunately, inherited his wife’s instability. Sidney wasn’t paranoid or manic like his mother, but he was displaying some concerning behavior. His son needed him, and he needed his wife. Harmon put down the photograph, packed up his things, and drove home.

The house was less chaotic than usual. His wife and son were already in bed. He did notice the empty wine bottles hidden behind the sofa though. As Harmon entered the master bedroom he noticed his wife, sleeping like an angel. She was perfect to him. With her long raven hair, icy blue eyes, and gentle soft petite hands. He kissed her cheek and said, quietly to himself “never again, that bitch is fired tomorrow” then went to bed. Only, Scarlett wasn’t asleep. Maybe everything would be ok now?

[poemsfordogs]

reflective thoughts, september 20, 2024

//self-harm and suicidal ideation referenced. I used to want to die. I don’t anymore. 

Do you know how strange of a feeling it is to finally find life worth living? To once have thought that nothing was worth it, and then suddenly, violently, find yourself burstingly happy just eating lunch with friends between college classes? For the last few months, I’ve been struggling with—or maybe, marveling?—at this fact. It makes me feel a little childish, how excited I am about life now. I feel silly when I try to share with friends, how beautiful something is or how happy I am about something that’s happening or how glad I am to have a relationship with someone, because it seems like everybody already knows about it. People know that city life is inspiring and dogs are wonderful animals. People know that friendships are valuable and don’t need to voice it every time they see said friend. People know how to be happy. I’m the only idiot in the orientation group with a bunch of toddlers, experiencing the joy of coloring with crayons for the first time. 

In high school, I used to write a lot of sad poetry. I was sometimes depressed, sometimes not, always suicidal. Even if it’s cliche, I really can’t help but think of those years as having a filter of monochrome grays over them; that’s how I was seeing everything. I developed a self-harm addiction, struggled on the edge of an eating disorder, and transitioned even though it felt like my body was trying to kill itself at every turn. 

Do you know how scary it is to feel like you aren’t controlling your own hands and feet? How many countless times I sat in my room, frozen as a stone, because I knew that if I made one movement that put me closer to my bathroom, there was nothing in my power that I could do to stop myself from relapsing. A possession sat deep inside my bone marrow; a poison released in my brain that had the intent to kill.

I tried. I tried so damn hard to not do things that were bad for me, I tried so hard to see the good, I tried so hard to focus on other things and distract from the negatives. There’s this poem I wrote at the beginning of this year, recounting a specific memory I have from high school. But every time I read it back now, I can’t help but think about how symptomatic it is of those entire four years. 

There were a handful of mornings in my high school career Where I would wake up like normal to a bleak, cold morning Dreading life and wondering why I still did it all and I stood, freezing, waiting for the bus next to the bus stop sign that didn't care about me I would sleep on my friend’s shoulder on the way to school  And,  On just a few of those lonely mornings, There would be The sunset in the parking lot A breathtaking mixture of pinks and oranges and clouds Rising over the pavement and the treeline And the two of us would just stop and stare for a minute And what I guess I'm saying is, Sometimes for those brief moments, I understood why life was worth living.

Can you feel my former self, like a desperate creature, clawing onto those few and far between whisps of appreciation for life I could find? I find it stupidly easy to find things to be joyful about now. Just looking around my bedroom: art from friends, myself, and places around the world, that covers the walls and reminds me that I’m a part of something. My Adidas slides that are the most comfortable thing in the world for tired feet. A throw blanket on my bed that I made with a friend from home. A Lego set, a customized Altoid tin, a fake plant, a display area for knickknacks, a bookshelf I painted stars onto, a fuzzy rug on the floor. The bedroom itself. Do you understand how weird it is, how plainly fucking strange it is, to find yourself elated about a fucking room after you didn’t even find enough value in your own life to find the strength to stay in it, even though staying alive really just boils down to eating and sleeping at the end of the day? Well, it’s weird. I’m telling you that it’s strange and unusual and downright disturbing. But it’s also beautiful. And I don’t know how to grapple with that.

I have to tell my friends how much I love them every time I see them, no matter how short the seeing is. I think it’s because the fact that I’m seeing them at all is enough to amaze them. I could’ve been dead, instead. And never gotten to meet them. So I have to tell them. It wouldn’t be right otherwise. A brainless 17-year-old could have killed me in a fit of rage or depression, and I never would’ve gotten to have a bond with these incredible people in this incredible city and can’t you start to see why I care so much and can’t stop talking about it? It’s like it bleeds from my every pore. I can’t stop the words from falling from my lips, telling my friends and my mom and my boyfriend how much I love them all and how beautiful they are. How beautiful the sky is. How happy I am to be doing the art I love. How happy I am to decorate a bedroom and a home. How happy I am to simply run an errand because everything has value if I am alive. Being alive has become the most important thing in my life. A laughable statement, really, but so indomitably true that I almost want to shrink away from it. I cannot help to be happy now. 

I think of the past, and I imagine myself as God. I live amongst the clouds, watching this past version of myself walk into school at dawn, no smile and somehow seeing nothing with his eyes. He leaves school with shoulders hurting from heavy backpack straps and sits scrunched up to the wall of the bus on the route home. He falls asleep from exhaustion and a kid from his neighborhood has to shake him awake so he doesn’t miss his stop. He trudges home. He closes the door to his room. Homework. Quiet dinner with Mom and Dad. Stays up too late reading or opts to lay crumpled in bed like a tossed marionette. No heart. Falls asleep four hours before his morning alarm. Repeat cycle. I am God. I watch with sad eyes and stop the story from continuing. I pick myself up from my bed, my den of depression, with large misty hands, and wrap up my battered body in a soft blanket. I whisper that one day, you will be happy. The sun will rise. The dog will bark. Happiness will come like clockwork, like how a river will always break through the dam, eventually. 

You will find it worth it again. You just have to stick around to get there.

[caker-baker]

Of Convenience

The protagonist was sometimes asked if they were married. They would always say no. There was no point in the whole truth.

To be fair, they were young, in college, and both them and their spouse figured being married would make things just a bit easier with money.

So, marriage. Totally platonic marriage between two broke best friends that was meant to last only through the end of their schooling.

Then their spouse disappeared, and stayed disappeared for ten years.

Legally, the protagonist wasn’t even married anymore, they never lied when they said they weren’t married. How could someone be married to a presumed dead person?

Sometimes they felt guilty. All the mourning for their best friend had been done with, and they weren’t by any means in love with them in the traditional way one would love their spouse, but it never stopped the protagonist from feeling bad.

Bad about moving on with their life. Bad about this date.

But it had been ten years, and the protagonist reasoned their best friend, wherever they were, would be happy for them.

It was supposed to be at a nice place, this date. A traditionally formal restaurant, one with valets. The protagonist enjoyed that. They didn’t always have the time for nice outings.

It was also relatively public, a little ways away from the heart of the city, close enough to home in case things took a turn for the worse.

But that was just a what if. Their friend gave this blind date a glowing review.

The bad feeling still ate away at the protagonist. Not for their possibly dead spouse, but for the lack of knowing. They didn’t know this person, and sure, the goal was to get to know them, but there was no basis for anything.

Regardless, it was going to be a nice night out with a nice meal in their nice clothes. All thoughts the protagonist had to remind themselves of as they watched the valet take their car away.

The door closed behind them, and the protagonist jumped.

Online, the place looked lively, warm. This was empty, abandoned of all people.

The tables and chairs and lights were all there. Lovely centerpieces of flowers and candles decorated empty spaces. No chatter filled the room, no host stood at the front, and most notably, no date.

It was all under a second the protagonist was able to observe these factors, and took less than three to turn and push on the door that wouldn’t budge.

“It locks electronically.”

For the second time that night, the protagonist jumped.

“How wonderfully modern.” They said, not taking their hand off the door.

“Wonderfully.” The faceless voice agreed. “Wouldn’t you like to sit?”

“Actually, I think I was just about to leave.”

“What about your date?”

The protagonist turned, and nearly screamed.

They thought they could deal with a regular person in this irregular situation. However, dealing with a villain was much, much different.

“Funny enough,” the protagonist managed “I’m beginning to think they stood me up.”

“Oh?” The villain grinned, sitting slowly at one of the tables. “What makes you so sure?”

“It’s been a few minutes since the agreed upon time.”

This was wrong. Talking with a villain while waiting for help.

What help? No alarms were triggered. There’s no sign of a villain being here at all. No hero would have any clue of potential danger.

“Still.” The villain moved their eyes to the chair opposite them. “You should sit.”

At this point, the protagonist was only conscious through fear and adrenaline, so, they moved to the chair, and sat.

“Now, forgive me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you married?” The villain said, leaning forward to rest their chin in their hand.

“I-” Two more people came out then, trays in hand, and all the protagonist could do was watch as they set them down, and left wordlessly. “I- what?”

“Well,” the villain started again, lifting the lid to their tray. “I could have sworn you had a spouse. Yet here you are, waiting for a,” they sucked air in through their teeth, a harsh sign of disapproval. “date.”

“What an unlucky bastard my spouse is, huh?” The protagonist felt dizzy.

“Oh, surely.” The villain’s eyes looked as if they darkened. “I’m glad, at least, corporate life hasn’t knocked the humor out of you.”

What?

“No, just all my free time.”

“Still free enough to try for a date.” The villain looked at them with a matter of fact stare, something the protagonist had been on the receiving end of before.

It was a stare their best friend, their spouse had mastered.

It was the same stare the villain was giving them now.

It was the same eye color the protagonist used to know well.

It was…

Oh.

“There they are.” The villain - or rather, their presumed dead best friend, their spouse - looked amused, and leaned back in the chair. “I knew you were smarter than that.”

“But you-”

Oh, God.

“You vanished.” The protagonist whispered.

“And you never even looked for me.”

“Looked for you?” The protagonist repeated in disbelief.

“I’m only teasing, love. I didn’t leave a single trace. No one could have found me.”

The protagonist stood. “And now you’re a villain.”

“Mm. I prefer goal-oriented entrepreneur.”

“You’re a villain!”

“If you insist. You are really going to let the foie gras go to waste if you don’t eat.”

“You’ve been alive this whole time! You’re perfectly fine!” The protagonist sat again, lowering their voice. “We had a funeral for you. We mourned you. The police could only assume you died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, love. I didn’t realize my disappearance would upset you so.”

The protagonist slammed their hands on the table. “You were my best friend! We got married.”

“I know, I was there.” The villain held up their hand, the old, cheap ring still on their finger. “Bringing me back to my point. Why go on a date?”

For a brief moment, the protagonist had to wonder if they were the crazy one for not seeing the villain’s side of things.

“Why was I trying to go on a date ten years after you left?” They spoke slowly, still trying to decipher if there was something strange about it.

“We both know it wasn’t just the one date. Maybe the first one in a while, but-”

“Have you been watching me?”

“No more than I need to. You’re my spouse, Protagonist.”

“It was a marriage of convenience. Neither of us really ever…and legally, no, we aren’t married. You can’t be married to a dead person.”

The villain let out a single scoff. “You’re not dead, and I’m still very much married to you.”

“That’s not-”

“Point being, Protagonist, I got tired of watching these people come in and out of your life.”

“And you get to do the exact same thing, is that it?”

“Absolutely not.” The villain scowled. “What kind of a person do you take me for anyways?”

“The kind who disappears for ten years without a call or even a postcard!”

The villain at least had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “Touché.”

The protagonist’s tone turned less angry, and more serious. “I’ve seen you online. The news.”

“Ah.” The villain let a look of annoyance pass over their face. “Most people have, love.”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t go running to the closest person I could find to tell them about you? I know your identity now. There’s someone to find and blame for the things you’ve done.”

“I do have your car.”

Stupid valets.

“And, really, love. Do you know me? My civilian self has dropped off the face of the earth.”

The protagonist felt a chill up their spine, but the villain was just getting started.

“You also seem to be forgetting I’m the one who kept on eye on you. I know you. For better or for worse, I know you. How it’s only six blocks to home, how you visit your parents and sister every other month. She’s sixteen now, right? How you meet up with my parents every anniversary of my disappearance, and how you manage to avoid telling everyone who asks that you are indeed committed to someone.”

“What do you want?” The protagonist spat.

“Other than your company?” The villain tapped a finger to their lips in faux thought. “Now that you mention it, that cushy corporate job of yours has a hold on some valuable assets of mine. And believe me, love, it’s honestly something they wouldn’t want to get too deep in.”

“You’ve been watching me this entire time just to threaten me? Because of my job?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, love. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not threatening you. I adore your family, and I would never hurt you. You know that right?”

“Do I?”

“Mm.” The villain tilted their head to the side. “Tell you what, love. You don’t even have to do any of the corporate espionage. You just have to give me your boss’ number. I can go from there.”

The protagonist found themselves shaking.“Why are you doing this?”

“I couldn’t think of a better reason to stay in your life than to bring a little chaos.”

[troubatrain]

want you to want me - m. tkachuk

a/n: i’m awful at intros but this fic is my whole ass child. i started it months ago and i picked it up back and then i just couldn’t stop writing. now we’re at a whopping 10k words and i’m really happy with the way this one came out. i hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it.

big thanks to @hookingminor @igor-shestyorkin & @tkafuckit for reading this as i wrote it and gassing me up ily all sm

warnings: smut

You were Matthew’s dream girl, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. You were leaning against the cold metal bleachers of your former high school, chatting with whatever teacher probably wanted to hear all about that shiny NWSL contract you signed right out of college with the Chicago Red Stars. It was well deserved, a few national titles in college put you in the position in the first place, and Matthew respected the hell out of you. You wouldn’t know, by the way he never seems like he actually wants to speak to you and the few snide remarks about your sport in general. That started forever ago, when Matthew royally fucked up any chance he had with you later in life because he was a competitive asshole.

It started when you were twelve, and middle school was nothing short of a mess. Matthew was growing into his own, adding a near foot to his height over one summer while his father and coaches doted on the fact that he was getting bigger. Getting bigger meant getting better, and for a few years winning was the most important thing in the world. But, becoming a hormonal preteen came with something else, feelings about the girl who sat three rows behind him in almost all of his classes.

Then third period gym class came around, and Matthew was a competitive monster. The kind of kid who took that way too seriously, and you accidentally became public enemy number one. You were the only person in his class who could even come close to beating him at anything, because you were just as much of an athlete as he was. Soccer had become your craft, and much like Matthew, you declared you’d go pro one day. So, Matthew did what any other insecure twelve year old boy would, he teased you relentlessly. It was awful, but by the time Matthew had gone off to play for the National team you had forgotten about his bullshit.

Apparently, you’d done something in a past life to warrant dealing with Matthew for longer than you ever anticipated. Jamie was your little sister, and Taryn’s best friend. Best friend was probably understatement, the pair were inseparable on and off the field. They trained together, they played on the same teams and that meant way too much time with the rest of the Tkachuk’s. You learned quickly, that the rest of their family was wonderful and Matthew seemed to be too thick headed to fall in line.

You tolerated Matthew, brushing his silly remarks off just like you did when you were younger. The thing was, Matthew didn’t want you to just tolerate him, but he didn’t know how to get you to stop hating him. You make your way over to Matthew who’d been standing next to his brother since the start of your sister’s game.

“Hi Brady,” You greet, tapping Brady on the shoulder who pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That annoyed Matthew the most, the way you seemed to love his siblings and despise him. In your defense, nobody was more supportive of your professional career than Brady, who’d made a promise to catch a game the second he could, “Hi Matthew.”

You were waiting for something from Matthew, an acknowledgement for finally achieving a dream of yours. You’d gotten the congratulations from the rest of his family, a massive celebration because Keith thought you deserved it. Matthew probably didn’t think you did. You could practically hear his smug little voice about how much his recently inked contract was compared to yours, because you’d heard it since you were kids. He used to rip on your athletic abilities every chance he could, something about how it didn’t matter how hard you could kick a ball you couldn’t hold a hockey stick so he was just better.

“You’re here!” You hear the chipper voice of your little sister approach, Jamie’s sweaty postgame arms wrapped around your waist. You’d been in Chicago, signing some paperwork and looking into finding a place to stay when you had to go for camp. You promised you’d make it back in time, and your flight landed less than five hours ago but you made it.

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself, watching his own sister push past him to see you. Taryn loved you, because sometimes she just needed a big sister and her brothers were in another country most

of the time. It was the part that killed him the most, seeing you with his family. You fit right in, a fierce athlete with drive that rivaled his own. Brady side-eyed his own brother, watching him instead of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was frustrated with his own brother for not just telling you the truth, that he teased you because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to handle having a crush on you.

But Brady was going to do it himself if his brother didn’t.

***

Matt, you don’t have a girlfriend right?

Matthew knew damn well he should not have answered his sister’s question, but when he realized her best friend had been sitting right next to her in the kitchen, his curiosity got the best of him. So he did, telling his sister he was single and sparing her details of any of the girls he’d gone on dates with the past year. That was his life is Calgary, a constant revolving door so no one would see what was underneath layers of sarcasm and angst. But every summer, he’d come home and wonder when he’d start to build a life for himself, and if he’d ever find that person to do it with. That was when his brain would start to wander, fantasies of a future that always seemed to involve you. He loved to imagine it, the years that you’d both spend supporting the other’s dream. Matthew would do anything to make sure you achieved yours, and he thought you’d do the same. Then you’d both settle down, the big house with the white picket fence and a shiny ring on your finger Matthew put there himself and years of arguing about what sport your future children would play - he’d even consider letting you have just one.

Unfortunately, none of that could be real until he figured out how to get you to hate him less. Taryn apparently had the same idea, and had been scheming with your sister for months. The two girls were looking at Matthew with devilish grins on their faces, like whatever they came up with would totally work.

“Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Your sister hums, sipping the smoothie they forced Matthew to drive them to go get, “It’s sad actually-”

“We think you should date,” Taryn explains, Matthew’s eyes went wide. His sister didn’t know the whole story, or just how far back this stupid fued went. Taryn always loved you, so Matthew just kept his remarks to himself.

“I know you know Y/N doesn’t like me very much,” Matthew explains, “So tell me how that’s going to work.”

“Apologize to her, if she can forgive me for anything she’ll forgive you,” Jamie sighs, thinking of all the times you’d shown her mercy when she didn’t deserve it.

“You’ve got to be sorry,” Brady interrupts, mouth full of food while he goes to go look for more in the fridge. He turns around, Matthew’s eyes giving him daggers, “What? You were a dick to her for years, you’ve got to fix that first.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that, Taryn had already planned out what Matthew should say to you. Matthew wasn’t going to repeat those words, because he knew exactly what he’d say to you if he ever got the chance. He was trying to fix his past, because the way he acted towards you was the one thing he regrets. 

So with the help of your little sister and the Find my Friends app, Matthew was pulling up to a soccer field he’d been to plenty of times. He used to run through the park nearby, catching a glimpse of your practices when you were in high school and Matthew was an afterthought. He hops out of his car, smiling when he could see you running drills alone. You were dribbling the ball, counting to yourself while you were weaving through cones you set up.

“I’ve never been good at those,” Matthew calls out, walking over to you while you stopped and caught your breath, “I kick the cones with my skate every single time.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” You tease, grabbing your water and guzzling it down, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize?” Matthew admits, knowing his face was probably bright red. He was nervous, the good kind like he got before a big game, “I was just an insecure kid then, and you didn’t deserve what I did just because I was afraid you’d beat in something.”

Matthew left out the part where he felt like he was still that kid all the time. All of those insecurities about himself seemed to be picked up by every reporter in Canada when he was there. You bit your lip, pretending like you were trying to debate whether or not you should forgive Matthew at all. In reality, you would have forgiven him ages ago if he’d just apologized sooner. It was so long ago, and sometimes you thought Matthew’s constant taunting made you better. He was pleading, baby blue eyes staring at you sadly while he waited for your answer. He looked like he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven, shoulders slumped while he tried to read your body language. It was something you noticed about Matthew forever ago, he could have everything in the world but when he looked at you he seemed almost sad.

“I mean I could forgive you, but only if you beat me,” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Matthew, “If I win, I don’t have to and if you win all is forgiven.”

“Really? Isn’t that why we were in this situation to begin with?” Matthew points out, crossing his arms at you.

“I thought you weren’t that kid anymore,” You remind of his own words, testing him to see if he’d put his money where his mouth was. Matthew smirks, chuckling to himself, “C’mon Tkachuk let’s see what you got.”

Matthew shook his head, laughing and lining up next to you. You both counted to three, sprinting down the field at full force. Matthew knew his height was the only thing working to his advantage while he tried to keep up with you. You were nearing your finish line, and Matthew didn’t think he was going to win. You were going to forgive him regardless, but Matthew didn’t know that. His arms stretched out, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his chest. Matthew turned his body around, stepping over the line before you did.

“God, you’re such a fucking cheater Matthew,” You hit his chest, Matthew’s hands still firmly placed on your hips.

“I didn’t want to lose,” Matthew admits, all of his smug attitude diminishing immediately, “Just want you to forgive me.”

“I’ll forgive you if you never pull that shit on me again,” You poke his chest, slipping out of his grip and running to your stuff before he could notice how nervous he was making you. 

No. Absolutely not. You told yourself while you checked your phone, rolling your eyes at the warning text from Jamie that Matthew was on his way, you couldn’t have anything but indifference to Matthew Tkachuk. It got harder everytime you saw him, the past few years had been nothing short of kind to him, he was growing from a dumb immature boy to a man more and more every summer. You turn around, peeking at Matthew who was sitting down and catching his breath, a winning smile on his face, the same kind he had the very first time he schooled everyone at floor hockey in middle school.

Maybe you could be friends.

***

Matthew liked having you as a friend, mostly because as of right now that was all he was going to get. You definitely didn’t trust him, which was valid considering Matthew had been a dick to you for years, but he was working on it. He had to, that uncontrollable feeling that he cared about you was getting harder to shove back down with every year that passed.

“You’re friends now, you don’t need to stare at her like a creep anymore,” Brady scoffs, watching his brother gawk at you from afar. Matthew couldn’t help it, you just had a glow about you, you always did, but somehow in the summer you were golden. Tonight you looked even better, maybe it’s because you smiled at him when he walked instead of scowling like you usually did.

“He’s in love with you,” Steph giggles, sipping her drink and giving Matthew a side eye, “He’s been staring at you all night.”

“He apologized to me,” You confess, holding in that little secret about Matthew’s visit to the field even from your best friend. You had the same friends, the same group of people who’d been pushing the two of you to work it out for years. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know that they no longer had to worry about one of you blowing up because the other was there, you just wanted everyone to let it go too. Matthew deserved a little forgiveness, you could only imagine the pressure he felt on himself back then, and while he didn’t totally deserve your protection - you were going to give it to him, “Don’t-”

“Oh wonder why, I know it’s because he looooves you,” Steph teases, “Did you forgive him?”

“Yeah I mean we’re both older and I’d like to think he’s wiser, and besides our parents are way too close,” You knew this was going to be your excuse for a while. It was better for everyone that you forgave him, Jamie and Taryn spent more time together than you’d spend with anyone and you're just as close with the rest of their family. It wasn’t untrue that it was in fact for the best, but that didn’t mean Matthew’s stupid dimples didn’t persuade you before you could think about anyone else, “Can we stop talking about this?”

Matthew’s eyes didn’t leave you once that night, especially after the way Steph downed tequila shots and convinced you to join her. You deserved to celebrate, you’d accomplished something Matthew knew was your biggest dream because it was the same as his. He was proud of you, not that he’d gotten a chance to show it.

“If you’re going to go pro Y/N, you’ve got to start keeping up,” Brady chirps, watching you stumble over your own feet to walk over to him and Matthew. Matthew had seen this once before, a level of drunkenness where you turned into bambi but that was so long ago he never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ll go pro in beating your ass Brady,” You snap back, shooting daggers over Brady who was already cracking up, “Hi Matthew.”

“Hi,” Matthew’s voice was small, a weird sound considering he was usually the loudest in the room. Brady scoffs, walking away from the two of you before he snaps at how hopelessly in love his brother was. You turn your head in confusion, your mind far too hazy to realize why Brady was so annoyed in the first place, causing Matthew to chuckle, “Want to play? Might be best if we’re on the same team.”

Matthew’s thumb shot over to the beer pong set up on the other side of the room, a mischievous smirk on face, “I mean if it’s for the best.”

Matthew’s arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you close to his chest while you both played pong was definitely not for the best, and it wasn’t helping that stupid crush you had on him. You could feel Steph’s stare from the corner of the room, and you look at her to mouth a don’t at her. It was nice having Matthew on your team, finally a moment where instead of arguing with each other about who’s elbow was clearly over the table - you got to do the same thing to Brady.

“Brady you’re cheating,” You call out, Matthew’s head thrown back in laughter at your seriousness.

“You heard her Brady, elbows over the table,” Matthew breathes out, his body still rumbling with laughter at his little brother’s expense.

“Oh look at you two, you’re just gonna raise some winners one day aren’t you?” Brady chirps back, both happy to see you getting along and annoyed once he realizes that means he was going to get roasted by both of you now. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, tucking your face into Matthew’s arm in hopes no one saw the way you shrunk at that stupid joke.

“We’re winners right now,” Matthew calls out, his last ball landing in the cup and sealing the game for the two of you. Matthew would raise winners with you, it was something he thought about from time to time, but those thoughts were never going to see the light of day, “Alright drunky I think it’s time to get you home.”

“You can stay, I’ll just catch a ride with someone,” You waive Matthew off, who shook his head no at you before you even started speaking.

“One, my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left you,” Matthew starts with, holding up one finger with another on the way, “Two, we’re friends now and I’d like to make sure you don’t die before you see a pro game.”

Matthew had seen you this drunk before, but what he didn’t know was that getting you home would be more difficult than he thought. You started in the direction of your house, but apparently you were a runner and a speedy one at that. Now you were barely two blocks away from Matthew’s parents place and if he could at least get you there he’d be able to call it a night - which wasn’t fucking easy.

“Alright I’ve had enough,” Matthew huffs, jogging to catch up with you and scooping you into his arms. You were hanging over his shoulder, Matthew making his way down the street with the house in his sightline. You could have cared less, laughing your ass off while Matthew walked up the stairs and finally placed you back down on your feet, “Be quiet, go up to my room and get some clothes and go sleep in the guest room.”

You weren’t quiet, not at all and Matthew was amazed not one of his parents came down to see what all the chaos was about. After Matthew had to walk you up the stairs, running back down for some water and hoping you weren’t a disaster by the time he got back - he found you in his bed. You were curled up right in the middle, an old London Knights shirt on your body, Matthew’s favorite. Matthew grabs his comforter, throwing it over your body. He sighs, leaning against his door frame and smiling to himself at how comfortable you looked, flicking off the light and retreating to the guest room.

Matthew hated the guest room. He hated how hard the mattress was and after a few hours of no sleep and tossing and turning - he gave up. Matthew hoped no one else was up, but not to his surprise his mother was already in the kitchen, and judging by the look on her face, she knew who was upstairs.

“Care to explain?” Chantal smirks, raising her eyebrows at her son. Matthew’s face got red, his landing on the back of his neck to cover the blush.

“She fell asleep before I could even get her to the guest room,” Matthew shrugs, hoping his mom wouldn’t push it any further, “I, uh, apologized the other day.”

“Good,” Chantal hums, a knowing look on her face. She didn’t like to push Matthew, her one kid who seemed to be a little rougher around the edges than the others, but that silly feud never sat right with her, “Here, bring her a coffee, I’m sure she needs it.”

Matthew nods, grabbing the mug his mother was holding out and starting to make his way up the stairs. He heard the tell her you made it from his mother and shook his head. He knew what she was thinking, especially with the way Chantal seemed to talk about you. His mother thought you were nothing short of perfect, and Matthew would be a liar if he didn’t think the same thing.

“Did I fall asleep here?” You’d woken up confused, your question only answered by the jerseys hanging on the walls, you were in Matthew’s room. You rub your eyes, the door creaking open way too loudly for how dead you felt.

“Only after you almost fell down the stairs and ran three blocks in the wrong direction,” Matthew chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the mug, “You know you’re fast right?”

“Yeah,” You muse, smirking to yourself and taking a sip of coffee, “I’m sorry I did that to you, and stole your bed - I can go.”

Matthew stopped you, telling to finish your coffee and relax and he’d drive you home after. You fell into a comfortable conversation, something Matthew never thought would happen.

And watching you walk up to your steps in his shirt still wasn’t something he thought he’d see, but it was better than he imagined.

***

“Hey it’s Jamie, can’t get to the phone right now…”

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and continuing your pace around the room. It was well after midnight, and your sister had been out all night, and past her curfew. Usually you’d cover for her, definitely taking the prize home for the cool older sister who picks her siblings and their friends up from parties. That’s what had you so worried. Sure, Jamie was a teenager and she snuck in a few little white lies with your parents just like you’d done, but Jamie always told you the truth. She’d check in with you more than her parents, letting you know that she’s going to be out late but she’s safe and if she needed anything she knew who to call. You texted sometime around ten, just checking in since it was Saturday and you were sure she had a more riveting social life than yourself. No answer. Then eleven rolled around and you didn’t hear anything, so naturally you double texted and now it’s twelve thirty and you still haven’t heard anything. You cross your arms, looking at your phone as if you could will an answer into existence. You grab it, dialing a number you weren’t even sure would work.

“Hello?” Matthew’s voice appeared on the other side of the line, clear confusion in his voice. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping Matthew would have the answer you wanted to hear so desperately.

“Is my sister at your house?” You ask, biting your lip and throwing on a pair of sweats so you could pick her up and murder her for scaring you like that. You were sure it was innocent, Jamie slept over at Taryn’s all the time, staying up way too late watching movies or when Jamie would hide going to a party from your much stricter parents.

Matthew tells you to give him a minute, and you can hear him walking through the house. By the time you heard a door open and a small fuck under his breath, your stomach dropped, “She was supposed to be home by midnight.”

“Alright, thanks anyways,” You sigh, “Do you know where they might have gone? It’s just, Jamie hasn’t answered me in hours and she usually does even if she’s out past curfew and I’m just-”

“I’ll be at your house in ten,” Matthew says, his keys alright in his hand and his foot halfway out the door. He was more mad than worried, sure his sister was out a party past curfew. Matthew was her biggest brother, and he was far more protective over her than Brady ever could be. He hated when she did this, and Matthew was pissed. You waited on your steps, Matthew car coming into view while you sprung up and practically sprinted into his car.

“You look mad,” You observe, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. You knew why, trying countless times to remind Taryn that her brother loves her and that’s why he’s like that. You thought he could go a little easier on her, but you wouldn’t dare get in the middle of that.

“I am mad,” Matthew grits out, knuckles white on his steering wheel while he drives slowly down the street. You just drove, in hopes you’d find what was obviously a house party and hopes your sisters were inside. You squint, hoping your eyes weren’t fooling you.

“Wait, pull over I think I see my neighbor,” You yell, Matthew’s foot flying on the break and you hop out. You were right, the bright orange tuft of hair you saw was like a miracle, “Hey Henry have you seen my sister?”

“Oh yeah I think she’s still inside,” Henry points to the house behind him, music blasting and a party in full swing, “I think she’s with Taryn.”

Matthew hops out of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the house with him. Matthew’s fingers were laced with yours with every step he took, weaving through the crowd in hopes you’d see them. It took three bedrooms and a laundry room until you finally saw Taryn standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and you pushed past them both to see Jamie with her head in the toilet. She was fine, well she was definitely in deep shit, but it wasn’t the worst thing to stumble upon. You throw her hair up, your attention moving to Matthew yelling at his sister in the hallway.

“Why didn’t you call someone,” Matthew yells, trying so damn hard to not completely snap on his baby sister. Taryn yells that her phone had died and then Jamie got sick and she didn’t know what to do. Of course they didn’t. You were probably more sympathetic, and you knew just how pissed off Matthew could get. You get up, pushing Taryn back into the bathroom and telling her to watch your sister.

“Calm down before you talk to her, please,” You plead, grabbing Matthew’s shoulders, “Besides, I sort of need some help right now.”

There it was. The very moment Matthew realized all along you could’ve been helping him. Your hands were wrapped around his biceps, a finger gently rubbing the skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. Every bit of anger disappeared from his body, a calm feeling replacing it. He knew you were right, and he’d be thankful for it later. Matthew knew he had to do the right thing by you, and he nodded, willing to follow any directions you gave him.

Matthew carried Jamie out of the house, getting both of your sisters in the car and finally heading back to your house. You knew he was still pissed off, a present frown on his face so you just took the chance. Just like he’d done before for you, you grabbed one of his hands from his steering wheel, lacing your fingers together. You caught the smile on his face, your thumb rubbing over his hand while his shoulders seemed to just relax. Once

Matthew finally helped you get Jamie inside, a night of laying on her floor to make sure she was okay ahead of you stood in the doorway with Matthew across from you.

“Thank you, I know we’re working on this friendship thing but you really didn’t have to do that,” You were eternally grateful, wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist and tucking your head into his chest.

“You’d do the same thing for Taryn,” Matthew hums, knowing full well he definitely owed you for being Taryn’s replacement sibling with him and Brady in Canada for most of the year, “Get some rest okay?”

“Wait,” You stop Matthew, grabbing his hand one more time, “Don’t kill your sister, please she’s just a kid-”

“You’re way too easy on them,” Matthew chuckles, shaking his head at you. He knew Taryn was probably scared, and after he calmed a bit he understood where you were coming from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tell her that if she ever pulls that shit again - he was going to rat her out to their parents.

And when Matthew finally got back in the car, he could see his sister’s grin in the backseat, “Don’t say it.”

She held your hand, are you sure you’re not going to malfunction now?

***

Maybe you were spiraling.

You’d been waiting for this moment your entire life, now you had a few more weeks until camp started and you were afraid. You knew you were good enough, you had to be. But what if you weren’t? You could feel the anxiety settling in, a feeling you hadn’t felt since Matthew told you soccer wasn’t a real sport in fourth grace. It’d been eating at you for weeks, deteriorating any confidence you had left in yourself. So you started pushing yourself even harder. The harder you worked the less like you were to fuck it all up. Your muscles were sore, your body was tired and it was just all becoming too much.

And Matthew noticed.

You were pushing yourself too hard, even the time you were supposed to relax with your families before your seasons started was being spent training. He understood it, the term first round exit lived rent free in his head every single time his skate hit the ice over the summer, but that didn’t make it okay. You looked tired, sluggish while you moved because you were running twice a day and training in between. And he was pissed everyone seemed to be fine with it. You should start working harder then Matthew. If it bothers you so much maybe you could join her. It wasn’t that he was jealous of your work ethic, he was worried. Matthew’s eyes followed you as you ran past his house again. The third time in one day, he’d finally decided he had enough.

Matthew took the walk to your house, charming the pants off your mother for her to tell him you were upstairs because you just got back in. He knocks twice, hearing a come in from the other side.

“What are you doing here?” You question, rolling one of your ankles that just seemed to be getting more swollen every time you started to practice. Matthew noticed it, your hands freezing one you caught his gaze.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Matthew stands his ground, he knew you could have told him to fuck off because no one hates advice they didn’t ask for quite like him, “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s rich coming from the kid who’s played with more broken bones than anyone I know,” You remind him of a few mistakes Matthew’s made playing through injuries he really shouldn’t, “I’m not fucking frail.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Matthew scoffs, it never once crossed his mind that he thought he was tough enough to play through injuries but you weren’t, “It’s about taking a break so you don’t get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” You huff, getting up and trying your best to hide the pain in your ankle when you stood on it. You fell forward, Matthew catching you in his arms and putting you back down the edge of your bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” Matthew asks with soft eyes, he bent down to take your ankle in his hand and inspect it the best he could. It was swelling, probably from the amount of pressure you’d been putting on your body with no breaks.

“What if I never score a goal?” You whisper, teary eyes finally meeting Matthew’s. His brows shot up, alarmed at how one of the best athletes he’s ever seen could feel the same way he felt right before his first NHL game. Matthew sits down next to you, hand on your thigh while you let out a cry, “What if I’m just a bust? Like I get there and nothing works and I suck.”

“You’ll score eventually,” Matthew scoffs, understanding how ridiculous you sounded but just how you felt at the same time, “Everyone does.”

“You scored like four games into your fucking career Matt,” You remind him, Matthew smiling a bit that you knew that to begin with. It would have been impossible not to know, or pretend like you didn’t keep a few tabs on his career. Matthew Tkachuk was a legend in the making, and whether or not you could feel butterflies in your stomach every time he dropped the gloves was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“I got suspended my first season too,” Matthew jokes, a teary eyed laugh escaping your lips, “I’d put down money you score in your first game.”

“Well good thing you have money to lose,” You sigh dramatically, the fear of fucking up still on your mind.

“You’ll find your groove, all legends do,” Matthew promises, throwing his arm around your shoulders. You snuggled into his side, a realization that he was becoming a comforting presence in your life with each passing day, “And if you don’t, you can always hide out in Canada with me.”

“Matty!” The same silly nickname Matthew introduced himself to you on your very first day of kindergarten slipped through your lips without realizing it. Matthew hadn’t been called that in ages, but it was welcome from you. You push his chest, “That’s not making me feel any better.”

“What if I told you the only reason I was so mean to you was because I was intimidated by how talented you were?” Matthew confesses, scratching your head with his fingers, “If I win a cup one day I think I owe you one.”

Matthew didn’t mention that in his wildest fantasies of raising that cup over his head, you were there. He’d owe you one and he hoped it was because you were there for him until he got there. Matthew saw it the same way every time, you’d tell him to go see his parents first but he’d fly right past them to get to you - the person who accidentally pushed him to be his best. He had plenty of daydreams about you winning too, remembering times you used to brag you’d go to the Olympics one day, and he hoped you were right. He wanted to see you succeed, more than anything, and he thought it would work.

“Legally you have to let me drink out of it,” You muse, shutting your eyes and letting yourself just rest against Matthew.

“It has to be Bud Light,” Matthew teases while watching you fake a gag. You grab his outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. His hands rested on the side of your face, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second. He wanted to kiss you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait for you to be ready. Wait for you to settle down. Or even just wait until he thought he had a real shot at forever.

Forever with you.

***

Matthew was kind of pissed off.

The press didn’t bother him, none of that mattered and at the end of the day Matthew was able to sleep at night knowing he was a good teammate and a decent person most of the time. This one got him though, some writer criticizing the A on his jersey, and how someone who plays like he does didn’t deserve a letter.

A letter he earned.

You could tell something was off, the way Matthew had been running alongside you was aggressive to say the least. He insisted he came with you, something about forcing you to take breaks. He was being your friend, even though your sisters seemed to disagree. Taryn’s words were replaying in your head, Matt doesn’t even care if I get hurt. That didn’t mean anything, those two had no idea what love was and Matthew caring about you a little bit didn’t mean he loved you. Besides, the way he was acting right now told a completely different story.

“Are you mad at me?” You finally slow down, sitting on a rock that was next to the hiking trail you were on.

“No?” Matthew stops dead in his tracks, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach that he fucked this up too, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” You push, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at Matthew. You could tell he was pressed about something, his neck covered in a red flush the same way it used to.

“Some stupid article about my letter, don’t worry about it,” Matthew grits, repeating his words again. His defense was up, even after you confessed to him that you were scared of not being enough.

“Get the fuck out of here with the tough guy act Matthew,” You challenge him, poking him right in the chest, “If we’re going to be friends you need to cut that shit out.”

“You really want to hear it?” Matthew barks back, fully yelling at you, “I’m tired of people thinking I don’t deserve things because I threw a few bad hits. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think you’re shitty? No you don’t, because you’re so fucking perfect that my own parents like you more than me.”

You stood there, silent while you tried to figure out how to tell him that simply wasn’t true. His entire body was shaking, the anger coursing through his veins like you’d seen many times before that. Matthew looked like he did the first time you hit a homerun in gym class, except this time it was because that same pressure never got released. You couldn’t come close to understanding the way he probably felt. You didn’t have the comparables in your own family, the constant reminders of Brady’s points tally compared to his, let alone the career his father had.

“Matty,” You whisper, grabbing his hand and running your fingers over the scars on his knuckles, “Why is this bothering you so much?”

You were sure this wasn’t the first time someone’s said he was a pest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Matthew sighed, the better part of his brain screaming at him to stop before he lost you too.

“I’ve felt like this forever,” Matthew whispers, eyes fixated on your hand in his, “From the moment I started getting bigger, there’s just been this pressure to play a certain way and act a certain way. I was a fucking kid, and while all of my friends got to go wherever they wanted all I ever did was practice. Then I finally get to where I wanted and I’m still getting shit on.”

“Except no one thinks you don’t deserve to be where you are,” You whisper, quiet words as if you were going to startle him, “And I know it doesn’t make up for things people say, but the people who love you think you deserve it.”

Matthew nods, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his words mumbled against your forehead, “I needed that.”

“I know,” You nod, smiling wide up at him, “And we need to practice more because you’re too slow, soooo catch me if you can!”

You slipped out of his arms, running away with a giggle and a smile. Matthew stopped for a second, his Neanderthal brain checking out your ass while you jogged away and his more logical one trying to process what just happened.

But what mattered most was that whatever you did worked and that meant something to Matthew.

***

Just admit you think he’s hot.

You wanted to kill your sister for making this weekend harder than it had to be. You were doing a good job at just friends with Matthew until Jamie was curled up in your bed while you packed for a lake trip with your friends. She pushed it for hours, rambling on about Matthew is actually your type and Taryn swears he’d be a good boyfriend if someone just understood him. The problem was, you were starting to see her point. Matthew had a glow up a few years ago, like one summer he’d gotten home and you were infatuated with him. It used to annoy you, because he’d been such an ass to you that you hated how attractive he was. Then things changed, and now looking at him was just frustrating you. You were terrified about the way he made you feel, like everything would be okay with one look of those blue eyes and a smirk. You felt like he had your back, a vast change from how you used to feel and it was just getting hard to hide it anymore.

Especially when Matthew looked like he did right now. He was holding himself up on the dock, shoulders broad and glistening in the moonlight above you. All your friends were inside, moving their party away from the water as the night lingered on. You wanted to run your fingers through his wet curls, the temptation was almost too much.

“I’ll be in Chicago a few times you know,” Matthew hums, enjoying the time alone he was getting with you. Anytime without Brady teasing him about what the Tkachuk’s had been referring to as the hand holding incident. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t want you, because he did, but he just needed to move at his own pace.

“You want to come see me play?” You ask, leaning back on the palms of your hands. You were surprised by the kind of man Matthew had become, it was a completely different person that he used to be. He cared so much about his loved ones, and you were starting to feel like maybe you had a place there.

“Actually thinking you could come see me play,” Matthew teases, sarcasm dripping from his words. You lifted your foot up, kicking some of the water below you to splash him, but he’d caught your ankle before you could. He stopped for a moment, running a thumb over your skin, “This looks better.”

“Don’t make you admit you were right,” You whine, Matthew swiftly pulling you into the water with him. You yelp, the water way too cold for any normal person, “It’s freezing.”

“C’mere then,” Matthew grabs your waist, pulling your body against his. His hands were splayed across your back, heat radiating off of them. One of your hands was on his shoulder, your other on his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly, his eyes locked on yours, “Middle school Matthew would be so jealous of me right now.”

“Why’s that?” You hum, running your fingers along Matthew to play connect the dots with the beauty marks on his skin.

“Because he had the biggest crush on you,” Matthew confesses, his grip on you a little tighter, as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers again, “But he was too thick headed to do anything about it.”

“What about grown up Matthew?” You ask, biting your lip. Matthew was practically holding you both up in the water, pressed so close together you could hear the hitch in his breath at your question, “Is he too thick headed to do something too?”

You wrapped your legs around Matthew’s waist, pressing your lips to his and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. He pushed you up against the dock, helping you back up and pulling himself up next to you. You grabbed the back of his neck, latching your lips back on his. His hand was on your back, fingers toying with the back of your bathing suit, “Think we can get upstairs without anyone noticing?”

Matthew was cool most of the time. He never faltered under the pressure from his career, most of the time, and he definitely didn’t fold when it came to a pretty girl. You had him in the palm of your hand, every part of his brain malfunctioning in response to your words. You bit your lip, wondering if you’d read this entire situation. Matthew rubs a thumb along your lip, “When are you going to realize I’d do whatever you asked me to?”

The two of you snuck up the stairs, giggles and stolen kisses left in your wake. You open the door, Matthew’s hands still toying your bathing suit top, “Just take it off already Matty.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Matthew breathes, his lips pressed against your neck while the garment falls to the floor, “So fucking beautiful.”

You back hit the mattress, Matthew’s hands running up your body slowly. Slow wasn’t in Matthew’s vocabulary, but he was taking his time just in case he never got this opportunity again. His fingers hooked under your bathing suit bottoms, sliding the wet fabric down your legs. You looked so beautiful, spread out just for Matthew like he’d dreamed about numerous times. His lips moved down to your breasts, teeth grazing against your skin while his tongue swirled against your nipple. You let out a breathy moan, Matthew’s ego boosting from the sound. You plucked at his curls while his mouth moved down to where you were craving him most, a gentle kiss to your clit, “Matty, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to beg,” Matthew hums, pressing feather light kisses around your core. He stopped, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, “You sure about this?”

“Yes, please,” You whine, pussy dripping from Matthew’s hot breath fanning over it. Matthew chuckles darkly, fingers digging into your thighs when he flicked his tongue over your clit. You moan, completely unbothered by the blaring music a floor below you. Matthew didn’t seem to be bothered either, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit, living for the way you were whimpering above him, “Matty-”

“Close baby?” Matthew groans, slipping a finger inside of you and curling it. You back arched, his name falling through your lips was enough to answer his question. Your legs shook, pleasure washing over your body from Matthew and all of it just felt so right. Matthew’s lips were latched to your skin until he finally met your eyes again. He smiles softly, nudging his nose with yours while you caught your breath, “So good for me.”

“Should’ve known you were that good with your mouth with the way you run it,” You tease smiling against his lips.

“Not with you, not anymore,” Matthew promises, soft blue eyes looking into yours, he meant it. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer, he wanted you. You kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his abs and stopping where his shorts hit his waist. Matthew kicks off his swim trunks, cock springing free. You grab the back of his neck, pulling your lips to his and rolling over top of him and straddling his waist. It was criminal how good you looked on top of him, “Gonna ride me babe?”

You nod, lining his dick up your core and lowering yourself on top of him. You let out a whine, Matthew’s smug smile on full display once he realized it was because of how big he was, “We don’t have to if my dick’s too big.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your hips, watching the way Matthew’s head fell back, smirking because he really thought he had control here. Matthew’s hands gripped your waist, moving your hips faster. His finger flicked over your clit, causing you to lunge forward on top of him. Matthew flipped you over, wrapping a leg around his waist so he could hit your g-spot. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails leaving scratches Matthew was going to wear pride later. You were seeing stars, noises leaving your throat you’d never even heard yourself make, “Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Look at me,” Matthew grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours and watching while your eyes roll back with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around him, his own cum spilling into you from the sensation, a loud groan following. Matthew pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried inside of you, “I wasn’t bullshitting you, I mean every word Y/N.”

“Matthew,” You whisper, running a finger along his back, “The distance…”

You didn’t mention everything, the way that if this was real it meant it would end up ripping you both apart. You were set to live in a different city, Matthew all the way in another country. The way your dreams included a spot on the U.S. National team, and the idea that wanting to be with Matthew would hold you back was terrifying. The way his dreams probably meant staying in Calgary forever, a C on his jersey and a cup over his head. It wasn’t going to be easy, you weren’t ever going to be the doting girlfriend he probably needed. There would be years of travel schedules and games that overlapped, and a part of you thought that maybe Matthew wouldn’t be able to do it. You’d get a year in and he’d find someone who would be there more and finally you’d end it.

“We can make it work, baby I want you, I always have and I probably always will,” Matthew starts, baring his soul to another person for the first time in his goddamn life, “I want to support your dreams and have you be there for mine. I’m all in here, I don’t know how else to tell you.”

“Can I have some time?” You plead, holding onto Matthew’s shoulders because you knew he could leave and tell you to never speak to him again. Matthew sighs, understanding the way you were shitting yourself about starting your own professional career, remembering the way rookie Matthew would have died before he considered settling down that first year, “Please don’t leave me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew promises, rolling over and letting your rest on his chest, “I’ll wait for you.”

You smile, snuggling closer to him. Matthew didn’t sleep a minute that night, running every single scenario that could possibly happen with the two of you. Matthew was sure it would work out, it had to, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.

So now all he could was wait.

***

You know this is creepy right?

Matthew stares at Sam, punching his teammate in the arm lightly and telling him to shut up. He had a night off in Chicago, and after four straight hours of staring at your contact in his phone, Matthew finally just bought the tickets. He’d been good at keeping his distance, you needed space and he respected you enough to try and give it to you. He wasn’t doing so hot, Matthew consuming more soccer games than hockey games at this point. It started with your first game, because how was he supposed to just pretend like it wasn’t happening? You scored too, and it took everything in his power not to call you to tell you that not only was he right, he was insanely proud of you.

And he’d been hearing it from everyone. Your sister thought it was bullshit, Taryn and Jamie almost had Matthew on a flight to Chicago ready to show up like a terrible Lifetime movie. Brady thought it was hilarious the way Matthew was simping like this for one girl. Now, his teammates were on him, wondering why on Earth their friend who historically ran through women faster than he did mouthguards could be this hung up on someone he had a crush on in middle school.

“What number is she?” Sam asks, sipping the beer he forced Matthew to buy after making him go along with this.

“Nineteen,” Matthew smiles, pointing down at you on the field. You looked so happy, warming up with one of your teammates and a bright smile on your face. It seemed like a good fit, your team and your new city, and it made Matthew’s heart grow four sizes.

“Did she choose your number?” Sam jokes and Matthew mumbles something under his breath, “What?”

“It was her number first,” Matthew admits, not wanting to ever confess to another soul that you crossed his mind when he kept that camp number. Sam howled next to him, leaning over his seat and cracking up at his teammate.

You looked out in the crowd about halfway through the game, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. That tuft of curls was hard to miss, not to mention you knew just how big Matthew was. He was far too into the game to realize you caught him, up in arms about a call against your team that was valid but he’d argue it wasn’t. You asked for space, and it was getting harder to stick to your guns. Especially when he was making it so clear that he wanted this.

And whether or not you went to his game the next night, was a secret you’d take to the grave.

***

You were so close you could have tasted it.

While the final seconds of your season came to a close, all you could do was hold your head in your hands and hope no one caught the tears. A semi-final loss was devastating, but a semi-final loss where there wasn’t anything you could have done differently was even worse. Every athlete had off nights, a point Keith pushed right before you left to start your season, and he was right. Unfortunately, that was this game. Your biggest fear had come true and there was nothing you could do about it now. The game was over and you weren’t moving on.

And Matthew watched it.

Matthew promised you space, and he swore he’d give you the time you needed to settle down. But, this was something he couldn’t ignore. He could tell you were off, your entire rookie season was almost perfect and watching the way you folded during this game was gut wrenching. Matthew knew better than anyone, losing sucked. So he took the chance, grabbing his phone and shooting you a text he’d been waiting to send.

Doors open in Calgary.

and I’m so fucking proud of you.

It was the very last text you saw before you went to bed that night, tossing and turning for a few hours thinking about that loss. You couldn’t stop, every bone in your body was aching and you didn’t know what to do. So you bought a flight, packed your shit and was walking down the hallway to Matthew’s apartment without a second thought. You’d left him on read, calling Brady in the middle of the night and asking for his address, who gave it to you reluctantly with a reminder that if you needed to see him this badly you should rethink the needing time thing.

Matthew let out a groan when he had a bang at his door at three in the morning. Noah definitely was trying to walk into the wrong apartment again, and Matthew was grouchy when he whipped his door open. Except it wasn’t Noah after he’d had too many. It was you, teary eyed with your shit in a suitcase and a broken heart.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” You admit, whispering something you never thought you’d say to anyone, “I just didn’t do enough-”

Matthew didn’t say a word, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and holding you as tightly as he could. You didn’t need to hear it from him, about how things were out of your control and you did your best. You didn’t want that right now, you wanted him, “Baby…”

“Everything hurts,” You whimper, finally just letting it all out. You were bruised and battered from the season, the physical pain alone was enough to upset you, let alone the loss you just took. Matthew carded his fingers through your hair, letting you soak his bare chest with your tears because he wouldn’t have it any other way. You came back to him. You came back to him when things got too tough because you trusted him to bring you some peace, and he was happy about it.

You passed out sometime after that, your tears finally running dry and the exchaustion taking over your body. Matthew woke up early the next day, grateful for the optional morning skate so he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains in his room, a calm snowy morning in Calgary so the city was just a bit quieter. 

Matthew settled on breakfast, working away in his kitchen with the only thing he knew how to make. Tell her you made it, his mom’s words from just a few months prior in his head while he cooked. You padded out his bedroom, one of Matthew’s god awful beer shirts hanging from your frame while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his back, “It’s cold here.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Matthew hums, internally pumping his fist when he felt your lips form a smile against his skin. You turned your head, pressing your cheek against his against and letting out a laugh, “What’s so funny?”

“You framed my jersey?” You ask, your eye catching a jersey that was way too familiar. It was hung up beside Matthew’s from his first all star game, both number nineteens staring back at you.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite player,” Matthew hums, a blush covering his cheeks, “I’m so proud of you.”

“You keep saying that,” Matthew finally turns around, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“I’ll keep saying it long after we both retire,” Matthew speaks, words clear and sure because he’s had plenty of time to practice this one, “I’ll say it when you win a World Cup gold, I’ll say it when we have kids, I’ll say when you play at the Olympics. I’m going to say it over and over again.”

“But…” You trail off, all of those same demons you’d been fighting when it came to your whatever this was with Matthew, “What I’m not around enough for you?”

Matthew knew what you were thinking about, he’d thought about it plenty too. There were countless sleepless nights where all he did was wonder if you’d find someone in Chicago who could support you better than he could. He’d do his best, he swore he would, but in order for you to be happy, your passion came first. There was always going to be times when he couldn’t be there and it killed him.

“You’re more than enough,” Matthew promises, his lips ghosting over yours, “I want you to seize every opportunity in the world, I just want to be there to tell you that I love you and use the goat emoji on Instagram when you do.”

You let out a laugh, Matthew’s smile wide enough to see his dimples you loved so much, “I think I want to stay a little while.”

“I think you should,” Matthew agrees, capturing your lips in his, “Besides I’m playing tonight and I think I need to show off now.”

“You’re a cocky asshole.”

“But now I’m your cocky asshole.”

***

One year Later

You had a good reason to be late.

You swore Matthew couldn’t possibly be mad at you for this one. You’d missed your flight to Calgary, a few days post a second loss in the semi finals that you’d been taking much better this time around. Mainly because Matthew wasn’t there, but his stupid smile and words of encouragement where there on facetime hours later. That wasn’t the reason you were late, the reason you were late was because you’d received the most insane news of your life and it was an important phone or that flight. You’d caught the next one, legs shaking not to just call him and share the news, but you needed to tell him in person.

You’d finally gotten by the doors to the locker room entrance, out of breath from spriting there from your cab. There was Matthew, tapping his phone and staring at the clock on his phone with furrowed eyebrows. He was still in his suit, tie pulled a little looser, a nervous habit you realized he had some time ago, “Matty-”

“Don’t call me that just because you know you’re late,” Matthew huffs, already ready for the pout that would have followed so he’d forget all about the fact that you promised you’d make it on time. He holds his hand out, waiting for the handshake he made up in the car on the way to the first game you went to after he finally locked it down. You laugh, slapping your hand against his and letting him pull you closer for a kiss.

“They want me on the National Team,” You mumble against his lips, the words spilling out of your mouth when you pull away with an excited smile. Matthew stood there stunned, while you shuffled your feet in the little dance you did when you were really happy. He grabs your cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips again and again.

“We’re celebrating after this, holy shit,” Matthew cheers, still stunned by your news, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now go score a few goals so we have even more to celebrate,” You kiss him one more time, pushing him before the door before he was late.

“Anything I do seems unimportant now!” Matthew calls out, a light laugh to his voice as he watched you walk away to go sit in the stands.

And that’s how Matthew thought it should be.

[honeypiehotchner]

Version of You (Hotch x Fem!Reader) — one shot

Call 1-800-799-7233 if you think you are in danger/a victim of domestic violence, or visit this website for resources, live chat, and more (for the USA). This is a link to the wikipedia page that has international resources. 

(I wanted to put that first because this fic deals with an abusive relationship and some scenes show the abuse. If you relate to any this, please seek help via the resources above. I want desperately to say my DMs are open, but for my own mental wellbeing, I have to let you know that the resources that I give above are about all I can do to help. You’re welcome to DM me if needed, but please know that it might take me a minute to reply, and I still will point you in the direction of resources that can better help you. I love and support and am with every single one of you, but I can only do so much through a screen xx.)

This is 100% a comfort fic, but I am safe and okay, I promise 💛 (Truthfully, this was really therapeutic to write.)

Small note: mental and verbal abuse is depicted here, not physical (though it does come close), but I wanted to remind you that just because abuse isn’t physical doesn’t mean it’s not harmful or real. Mental and verbal abuse is still abuse.

Summary: Hotch helps you find the courage within you to end your abusive relationship for good.

Warnings: depiction of an abusive relationship, verbal/mental abuse, violence (domestic and otherwise), angst, happy ending

Hotch Masterlist

Aaron is stunned and disappointed to find you’re still at your desk when he walks out of his office at the grand hour of 8 p.m.

You don’t even hear his office door open or close, but you do hear his footsteps on the stairs. By the time he reaches your desk to say goodnight, you’re already attempting to cover up any traces of emotion on your cheeks.

But Aaron is a profiler. On top of that, though, he’s one of your best friends. He’s known you for six years now, and given how much time the BAU members spend together on cases, he’d argue he knows every single person here better than they know themselves.

You’d agree. You hardly know who you are anymore. But somehow, Aaron knows. Aaron can see.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, already setting his bag down, already pulling a chair over, already sitting next to you.

You’re ready to tell him it’s nothing, to tell him to get home to Jack, that it isn’t important — but it is.

You’ve been with your current partner for almost eight years. Anyone would hear that and ask if marriage is on the horizon, or children, or something of the sort. But not Aaron. Because Aaron can see the pain in your eyes.

Truthfully, he’s seen that pain in your eyes for the past two years. Maybe more.

But recently, it’s gotten worse. A lot worse.

You’re on a “break” with your partner. Whatever a “break” even means, because you still receive phone calls and texts from them all day. You send the calls to voicemail unless you absolutely aren’t doing anything, and the texts you reply to with one word.

Going home is fine because your partner is gone — for now. Work called them away, so you’re home alone for at least another three days, but you expect they’ll want you to pick them up from the airport.

You’ve never longed for a case the way you’re longing for one right now.

This “break” has been easiest because your partner has been gone. You know if they were here, it wouldn’t have been a break at all.

“It’s made me realize that I...I want a break. A real break.”

“You want to break up,” Aaron says it for you, knowing you’re too afraid.

Your hesitant nod confirms this for him. “I do. I think I really do.”

Aaron has known the relationship hasn’t been the healthiest. You don’t open up about your personal life that much at work — you never have — but it has always been telling that you never go out for drinks with the team. And when you did, you’d have to answer texts every ten minutes. Your partner never accepted an invite to join the team for drinks or dinner, but would often get angry at you for being out, as if you hadn’t tried to invite them.

Raised voices, broken glass. Not a single hand was ever laid on you. No, instead, it was a wine glass your mom gifted to you when you graduated college when your partner was angry that you had gone out for drinks with the team after a difficult case. A coffee mug you gifted your partner for their birthday faced the brunt of their anger when you didn’t reply to a text message fast enough — because you were parking your car in the garage. Plates, picture frames. A coffee table once, three years ago. It had been a house warming present.

But they’ve never hurt me, you always argue — only with yourself. No one knows the truth, that you clean up after their outbursts, that you’re grateful to have some knowledge of first aid so you can tend to your cuts from the broken glass, or so that you could stitch up your partner’s hand with ease, because hospitals are expensive and the excuses you’d have to fabricate even more so.

They always apologize. Which is true. Apologies are frequent in your house. Sometimes verbal, sometimes in the form of flowers either on your desk at the BAU (that only Hotch seems to notice with a sad smile) or left on the counter at home. Sometimes, rarely, a fancy dinner and some gift, usually a necklace.

“If you need any help at all,” Aaron says, looking you in your eyes, carefully, intently. “I’m here. For anything.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. Your stomach rumbles loudly in the silence, making you chuckle awkwardly.

“Hungry?” He jokes, but is half serious. “I was planning to get something on the way home, if you’d like to join.”

You think it over for a moment. Your mind immediately jumps to say no because you think your partner is home...but they aren’t.

“Sure,” you say. “Why not. What’s on the menu?”

You gather your things and Hotch waits patiently, rattling off some ideas for food to eat until one grabs your attention.

Your phone buzzes with a text. Where are you?

Aaron notices your change in posture with a sigh. “Is that them?”

You nod slowly. “Asking where I am.” You quickly type back, Still at the BAU.

The reply is almost immediate, as always. Just checking. Love you.

Relief washes over you as you type back, Love you too.

Aaron doesn’t like what he sees. The panic that surges through you just from a text message, making you stand up straight, hold your breath, clench your jaw. Then the relief that relinquishes you when a reply comes and it isn’t negative for once. The sudden changes, the way your emotions are yanked back and forth. He hates it.

But he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he says, “Ready?” And waits for you to smile.

+++

Hotch really doesn’t mean for dinner with you to turn into somewhat of a routine. But it does.

It’s brought more smiles to your face than Hotch thinks he has ever seen in the past six years. And for that, he doesn’t regret the dinners.

Neither do you, until the worst thing that could possibly happen ends up happening one night, three weeks since the first dinner.

Your partner is going out with friends, so you think you’re in the clear to get dinner with Aaron. And when your partner asks where you are again, you say you’re still at the BAU. You were, but you and Aaron were in the elevator to leave when you sent that message.

The two of you grab dinner at one of your favorite spots, at a table outside because the weather is perfect, the sky is clear, and stars are beginning to show. It’s magical. Until it’s a nightmare.

“Well, well, well.”

The voice sends shivers down your spine. They’re supposed to be out with friends.

Aaron automatically stands, shoulders squared and face set. He’s wearing his gun, and you are, too, but you’d never use it on your partner. You can’t say the same about Hotch, though, and that terrifies you.

“Babe,” you say with a smile, and Hotch tenses, hearing the pet name fall so easily form your lips. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going out with your friends?”

Your partner crosses their arms over their chest. “And I thought you were still at work.”

“We are,” Hotch speaks up, startling you. “We’re discussing a case.”

Your partner looks around, raising their eyebrows. “I don’t see any papers.”

“Because we went digital five years ago,” Hotch replies coolly. “But aside from that, a federal investigation is none of your business.”

You swallow thickly, waiting for your partner’s reply.

But to your surprise, they only nod. “I understand, sir. I was only checking.”

Hotch holds back a scoff, but instead returns the nod. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Your partner holds their hands up in surrender. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you at home,” you say quickly. “Love you.”

“See you at home,” they reply, making you frown as they turn and walk away.

When you look back at Hotch, you nearly scream. It takes everything in you not to make the hugest scene right there, outside this nice restaurant, underneath these stars.

Your phone buzzes. One hour. Do not be late.

“Y/N—”

“Don’t,” you say quietly. “Just. Don’t, Hotch.”

+++

The next day, you knock on Hotch’s office door, twenty dollar bill in hand to pay him back for your dinner last night. You left in a hurry and didn’t get to pay. Thankfully, at least, arriving home with forty minutes to spare saved you from an even worse reaction from your partner.

“For dinner last night,” you mumble, sliding the twenty across Hotch’s desk. “Thank you.”

As you turn on your heel to leave, Hotch calls out to you. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Aaron says, making you turn back around. “I hope you’re...alright.”

You’re so very far from being “alright” that you almost laugh. Instead, you shrug. “It’s been worse.”

“Did they hit you?”

You’re too shocked to move. “What? No! Why the hell would you even say that?”

“Because I’ve been worried about you.”

“They have never laid a hand on me,” you snap. “Ever.”

“But they’ve come close,” Aaron says gently. “You know they have.”

You only scoff. You feel hurt. Insulted, even, that he would assume something like that. Your relationship with your partner is rocky, of course, but never physical abuse rocky. Never that bad.

But has it come close?

Sure, maybe you’ve felt the wind off a beer bottle when it grazed by your head on its way to the wall. Maybe you have had to duck to avoid getting glass to the face. Maybe.

Maybe they have come close. Closer than you want to admit.

But they’ve also loved you. Held you while you cried. Rewarded you after you cleaned up the broken glass. Left you flowers and jewelry and love notes.

They love you. Don’t they?

“It’s fine,” you whisper, blinking back the stubborn tears that have jumped to the front of your eyes. “They love me.”

“Love isn’t violent,” Aaron replies gently. “Love shouldn’t make you as terrified as I saw you when you left last night.”

“I know,” you choke out. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Hotch is rounding his desk and gathering you in his arms before the first tear slips down your cheeks. He holds you while you cry, letting you get it all out.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispers, resting his chin on top of your head. “Don’t worry.”

+++

It all comes to a head a few nights later when your partner springs a question on you. The question.

There, standing in the bathroom, you’re too stunned to speak.

“What d’you say, baby? Let’s get married, you and me.”

You don’t reply. You toss the makeup wipe in your trash can, flick the light in the bathroom off, and walk out into the bedroom.

“Baby?” They ask.

You’re facing the dresser, halfway to setting out a pair of pants for work tomorrow. “I...I can’t.”

“What?” Their reply is immediate and angry. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t,” you repeat, refusing to change your answer. “No.”

By the time you turn around, they’re standing up from the bed, arms crossed over their chest. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said no,” you say firmly. “I’m not marrying you.”

“And why not?”

“I—”

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“What?”

“Your boss? Are you fuckin’ him?”

“No!”

“Then why won’t you marry me?”

“Because I don’t want to!”

You’ve never raised your voice back at your partner. They’ve always been the one to raise their voice, and you stayed silent, tried to talk them down, be the quiet voice of reason.

But not anymore. You’ve had enough.

“You don’t want to?” They scream. “It’s been eight years and now you don’t want to. You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” you say through gritted teeth. “But I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“Baby…” They sigh, stepping closer, lowering their arms. “Why not?”

“Because,” you reply slowly, backing up. “Just because.”

“That’s not a good enough reason and you know it.”

“It’s good enough for me,” you say. You step to the side and keep backing out into the hallway, getting ready to run if need be.

“Where are you going?” They all but growl. “What’s wrong with you?”

You’re scaring me, you want to scream, but you don’t. “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine? Well I’m for damn sure not fine, I’m heartbroken,” they seethe. You see the tell-tale signs that they’re about to get angry — angry enough to start throwing things. You realize in a moment of horror that a paperweight is within their reach.

And they reach for it.

“Don’t,” you murmur, freezing when their fingers wrap around the glass. “Put it down.”

“Why?” They ask, calm as ever. “Don’t you want to see what you’ve just done to my heart?”

You shake your head slowly. “No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, no!” Your reflexes have gotten better since being at the FBI, and you duck right in time. The paperweight crashes against the wall behind you, shattering, denting the wall, and covering the couch in fine pieces of broken glass.

“See what you’ve done!” Your partner screams. “This could’ve been easy! You could’ve said yes!”

You spot your car keys on the counter next to you, and when they turn their back to you to grip at their hair, you slide the keys off and into your pocket.

I have to get out of here. It’s a thought that you never have. Normally by now you’d be vacuuming up the glass on the couch, apologizing every five seconds, pouring them a glass of whiskey or a beer or something. But not now. Not anymore.

You’re a few steps from the door when your partner notices. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Nowhere,” you freeze. “Go take a shower. Cool off. I’ll clean up this mess and then we can talk about this again, okay?”

They almost don’t accept your offer, but after a second, they nod. “There better be a beer waiting on me when I get out.”

“Of course,” you smile.

Your smile makes them suspicious, but they turn and head into the bedroom without another word.

Shaking, you turn to the closet to grab the vacuum, turning it on and beginning to suck up the glass off the couch.

But when you hear the shower curtain pull closed, you escape, leaving the vacuum running.

+++

It’s pouring down rain, you aren’t wearing any shoes, and you’re knocking on your boss’s front door. Can your life get any more pathetic?

When Aaron opens the door, he’s practically hauling you inside and out of the rain.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asks, already leading you down the hall toward the bathroom. “You’re shivering, we need to get you out of these clothes — you aren’t wearing shoes, fuck, Y/N, what happened?”

“They asked me to marry them,” you choke out. You aren’t even crying. You haven’t cried yet at all. “I said no. They almost hit me.”

Aaron feels a dangerous surge of anger course through his body. “Did they hit you?”

You shake your head, and it turns into a full-body shiver.

“Okay,” Aaron says, taking a deep breath to ground himself. “Okay, let me get some clothes for you. Do you want to take a shower?”

You shake your head again.

“Okay, that’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

You sit, shivering, on your boss’s toilet for a few minutes before he returns with clothes. A t-shirt and pair of sweatpants of his. Old ones, he says, they don’t fit him anymore. You smile slightly when you realize the shirt is from his college, the sweatpants from his law school. No wonder they don’t fit him anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” you say. “I—I think I left my phone there.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. Just get changed and get warm. Do you want some tea? Anything?”

“Just some water, please,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he smiles.

After he leaves, you change out of your wet clothes and into his shirt and sweatpants. You carefully hang your wet shirt and shorts over the edge of the bathtub, hoping that’s okay.

You venture out of the bathroom and follow the noise into the kitchen where you find Aaron putting up dishes.

“Hey,” he murmurs, straightening up. “Do you want ice with your water?”

“Um, sure.”

The sound of ice clinking into the glass makes you flinch, and you’re grateful Aaron’s back is turned away from you.

“There you go,” he hands you the glass.

“Thank you.”

You sip it quietly while he goes back to putting up the rest of the clean dishes in the dishwasher. Once he finishes, your heart is still racing, now with guilt from coming here unannounced. What if he was on a date? What if Jack was here?

“The guest room is all yours,” Aaron says softly. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

You nod slowly. “I don’t know what to do.” You pause, rubbing your thumb over the condensation on the glass. “But I told them I’m not marrying them. But I...I didn’t tell them I was leaving. Or where I was going.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not. They’re gonna be mad. I can’t�� Oh my god, I can’t go back. Not alone, they’ll—”

“Hey,” Aaron shushes you, walking around the counter to get to you. “Don’t worry about it right now. We’ll figure it out. I’ll go with you. You won’t be alone.”

“Thank you.”

+++

The next morning, you and Aaron head into the office early so you have time to grab your go-bag and change into your work clothes that you left in there.

Thank God for having a job like this where it’s normal to have a few changes of clothes, a toothbrush, deodorant, and anything else you need in a duffle bag under your desk.

You and Aaron are the first people in the BAU, so you’re able to grab your bag and head to the bathroom to change without any questions. Once you return, you stuff the bag back under your desk and sit down, ready to bury yourself in reports for the day.

But before you can, Hotch calls you into his office.

“What’s up?” You ask when you step into the doorway.

“We didn’t eat breakfast,” he says, and that’s when you notice the two coffees and muffins sitting on his desk.

“Oh,” you chuckle. “I completely forgot.”

“Me too,” he smiles. “Here, sit.”

The two of you eat the breakfast in silence, but somehow you don’t mind it. You’re not in much of a talking mood, anyway.

Rossi arrives next and stops by Hotch’s office, not at all surprised to find the two of you eating together, though he does join with his coffee a few minutes later. The silence vanishes with Rossi, leaving laughter in its wake as he tells old stories about Hotch.

When the rest of the team arrives, they follow the noise to Hotch’s office, and soon you’re surrounded by your family. Your real family.

Once eight-thirty rolls around, you all begin to disperse, back to your respective spaces to start working for the day, and everything feels normal.

And then, in a matter of seconds, it isn’t.

The second your eyes land on your partner standing down in the bullpen, you fall to your knees, scaring the shit out of Hotch.

“What happened?” He blurts, kneeling down to you. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you shake your head. “No, no, no...No, Hotch, they’re out there.”

Hotch doesn’t need their name. The fear on your face is enough.

About this time, you hear Derek’s voice growing in volume. The most you can make out is, “Put...down…!” And that’s when your blood runs ice cold.

You pat your right hip, hoping, praying, your weapon is magically there, even though you know it’s not. You put it in the safe when you got home last night. You didn’t have time to grab it before you ran out and drove to Hotch’s place. You left it there, in the safe, because you never think twice about it since it’s locked away.

But now…

“Don’t do this, man,” Derek yells. “Put. It. Down.”

“Where is she?” Your partner yells. “Tell me where she is!”

“I’m not telling you shit until you put the gun down,” Derek says, firmly. You’re frozen in place, on the floor next to Hotch’s desk as you listen.

“They have my gun,” you whisper to Hotch. “I didn’t think they— I don’t know how they knew the code, I change it every week, I thought—”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” Hotch shushes you. “You stay here. Do not move. Try to get under my desk if you can.” He pauses. “There’s an extra pistol underneath. I want you to grab it just in case.”

You nod, but then a memory of last night grips you. “No! You can’t go out there!” You hiss, gripping Hotch’s arm.

Outside, you hear Emily’s voice adding to Derek’s, trying to talk your partner down. It’s a scene out of a horror movie. Straight from your worst nightmare.

“They already feel threatened by you, they’ll just shoot you the second they see you.”

“Not when they already have five guns on them.”

“Let me come with you,” you offer.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aaron, I have eight years of experience talking them down. I know what I’m doing.”

Hotch doesn’t like that you’re right.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

You nod. You’re shaking all over, but you still nod.

“Okay. Crawl over and grab the pistol from my desk. Tuck it in your waistband, on your back. Go now.”

You stay low as you crawl over, finding the pistol strapped underneath his desk on the right side. Once it’s tucked in your waistband, you stand, facing the window. Hotch stands too, with his back to the blinds, and thank God they’re closed.

“Is she in there?” You hear your partner scream. “Is she with him?”

“Shit,” you mutter. “Shit, shit, shit, they’re gonna fucking kill me.” You hate that the possibility is very real. They have your gun. They could shoot you the second they see you. You’re not wearing any protective gear.

“No,” Hotch replies. “I’m not letting that happen.”

“Come out here, you lying bitch!”

Hotch looks ready to kill your partner himself.

“Babe?” You call out, putting on a false tone, the same one you always use when talking them down. “Babe, what are you doing here?”

You step into the doorway, feeling another frozen chill of fear shoot straight down your spine. They look crazed. Insane, even. Worse than you’ve ever seen, worse than last night, worse than the last eight years.

“Don’t babe me,” your partner seethes, but the gun is still trained on Derek.

You know it makes no sense, but you want them to turn the gun on you. Not Derek. Derek can’t be hurt because of you, not like this.

“Put the gun down,” you say, trying to stay calm and sweet, the way you usually have to be at home.

“I’m not listening to a damn thing you say,” your partner yells, and then the gun turns on you. “There he is.” The gun isn’t aimed at you. It’s on Aaron.

“Put it down,” Aaron’s level voice floats through the terror roaring in your ears. “I won’t ask again.” He shifts and you realize then that he has his own weapon trained on your partner.

“You won’t need to. Come out from behind my fiancé you coward.”

“She’s not your fiancé,” Hotch says. “And you won’t shoot her.”

“Want to bet on it?” Your partner lowers the gun slightly, now pointing it straight at your chest. Strangely, you don’t feel any panic surge through you. It’s telling. That even now, your head is telling you, they won’t hurt me, they never hurt me before.

“Don’t do it,” Derek yells. “I will shoot you, man. Don’t do it. You have six guns pointed at you right now. Do you really want to do this?”

The metal of Aaron’s pistol bites into your lower back when you shift on your heels. Your arms are frozen by your side, too afraid to reach for the gun.

“Put it down,” Rossi yells.

“You’ve got five seconds,” Derek adds. “Don’t make me get to one. Five. Four.”

Your partner’s fingers twitch on the trigger. Aaron catches the movement. Nods once when Derek says three. And on two, Derek pulls the trigger before your partner can do it first.

A broken scream rips from your chest when the bullet lodges itself in your partner’s side, your gun clattering to the ground. Derek steps forward and kicks the gun further away, out of reach.

Hotch lifts you around your waist and pulls you back into his office, kicking the door closed with his foot.

You’re numb to everything as he sits you down on the couch, wrapping his arms around you as you finally sob, letting out every scream that you’ve been holding in.

+++

Your partner is taken to the hospital to be treated for the gunshot wound.

Hotch tells you they won’t stand a chance at being acquitted, too many charges looming over their head already without the addition of domestic violence. You hardly hear his words, but you nod like you do.

He takes care of you while the commotion outside struggles to calm down. A blanket is wrapped around your shoulders, you hug a pillow to your chest, sniffling every few minutes as fresh tears cascade down your cheeks. Spencer brings you a mug of steaming tea that you barely manage to thank him for. Hotch thanks him properly for you before softly shutting his office door.

For months, you’ve been thinking about leaving them. For so long, you’ve wondered what life might be like without them. Now, you don’t know a thing.

You don’t know what to do. Where to go. Will you have to testify in court? If you do, will you have to talk about the...abuse? The abuse that you can barely bring yourself to label blatantly as abuse even though Aaron, your brain, everyone screams at you that that’s what it is — abusive behavior.

When you were a teenager, and even in your early twenties, learning about signs of abusive, unhealthy relationships, you never thought you’d end up in one. You thought surely you’d recognize the first signs and get out of there.

But instead, you did exactly what they said most people do. You brushed them off. You thought, oh, they just love me deeply, that’s all. They want what’s best for me, that’s all. They want me to be safe and protected, that’s all.

And that’s lovely, but there’s a difference. Between caring and controlling.

You never thought the difference would be so hard to see.

“Come on,” Aaron’s soft voice pierces through your thoughts. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You blink. “Where?”

“Wherever you want to go,” he replies gently. “Your apartment?”

Immediately, you shake your head. But then you pause. Because aside from your apartment and the BAU, you have nowhere else to go.

“Would you be comfortable going back to my apartment?” He asks. “I understand if it’s uncomfortable. I’m sure Garcia or Prentiss would be happy to let you stay with them, and I’ll gladly send them home with you.”

As much as you love Garcia and Prentiss, you strangely feel more comfortable with Aaron. After all, Pen and Emily don’t— or didn’t know about your partner’s behavior. Only Hotch knew.

“If you don’t mind, I’m...I’m okay with your place.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he smiles. “The guest room is yours for as long as you need.”

That makes you smile, though the expression feels foreign on your lips. “Don’t you have to stay?”

“It can be dealt with tomorrow,” he replies. “The paperwork will still exist tomorrow at eight a.m.”

“Okay,” you accept defeat. “Can I take this blanket?” You don’t like the idea of this weight leaving your shoulders.

“Of course,” he says.

You fall asleep in the car.

You didn’t mean to, but you were exhausted. And by the time you woke, Aaron had already carried you into his apartment. Startled, you gripped his arm a little too tight, but he shushed you carefully, letting you know you’re safe, he just didn’t want to wake you because you were sleeping so soundly.

He set you down on the guest bed where you tried and failed to get some rest last night, but now, you sleep like a baby.

+++

Months after the incident, the guest room at Aaron’s apartment has become your temporary home.

You still haven’t been back to the apartment you owned with your partner — even though their name is on the lease, not yours. You went once with Aaron to pick up your clothes and anything else important, but it was a quick trip. You were desperate to get out of there.

Aaron didn’t like what he saw. The broken glass, the dents in the walls. The way your body language changed immediately. Your unwillingness to return there is fine by him.

It’s a slow, uphill battle as you begin to heal. Your partner still sits in jail, awaiting their trial date. You know you might have to testify, but you know your team might have to be there as well, so that makes you feel better.

Aaron has been incredibly respectful of your space. You were the one who brought up the idea of carpooling to work, one of you driving every other day, to save on gas for the both of you. He had assumed you wanted to drive on your own and always have your car — which is true, but you didn’t mind riding with him.

He’s the only one your terrified brain doesn’t seem to be scared of.

And you’re not complaining. You’re grateful to feel a small ounce of safety after feeling every sense of unsafe for the past eight years.

+++

Your ex-partner’s trial comes and goes in the following three months. You did testify, along with the rest of your team, the verdict is guilty. Life in prison.

You wept on the steps of the courthouse from the sheer relief of it all.

“They’ll never hurt you again,” Aaron had told you and you didn’t believe him for one second.

Still now, as you know for a fact they are sitting in a prison cell, you have a small fear. But you think you always will.

You continue “rooming” with Aaron — that’s the best way you can think to put it — and you’ve come to really enjoy the weekends when Jack comes over. At the start, Aaron would try to take Jack out to the park to give you time alone, or you’d go spend some time with Penelope, but after a while, you started staying. And after a little while longer, Jack started warming up to you, and expecting your presence.

One weekend, you hear Jack and Aaron playing in the living room while you’re in Aaron’s office, trying to get some work done. And halfway through signing your name on a piece of paperwork, you hear Jack “whispering” to Aaron about you.

“Do you like her?” Jack whispers, but it definitely comes across as more of a soft shout.

Aaron’s eyes widen, and he presses his index finger to his lips. “A lot,” he says, but you don’t hear him — though you were straining pretty hard.

“Me too,” Jack giggles. “Is she your girlfriend?” He teases, poking his dad with his Lego sculpture.

Aaron pokes his son back with his own design. “No, buddy, she isn’t.” Again, you can’t hear him, but Jack’s question made your heart hammer in your chest.

You know you’ve had some feelings begin to develop because truthfully, they were blooming months ago, back when you began having dinner with Aaron. But then everything happened, and you still loved your ex, and things got too complicated.

Now, though, seven months out from the start of it all, the feelings are still there.

Aaron hasn’t made any moves, so you’ve kept silent. You don’t know how much of his good deeds are simply out of his own kindness. And you certainly don’t want to mistake it for something it’s not.

But kids pick up on things adults try hardest to hide.

You continue with your paperwork, listening to them continue to play.

It’s not until after Jack goes home to Hailey that his question is brought up, and it’s only because Aaron asked what was bothering you.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it,” he says. “But I’m here if you do.”

He’s always here. That’s what made you have a crush on him in the first place, years ago. He’s always there for anyone who needs him.

“I heard you and Jack earlier,” you start. “When he asked if I’m your girlfriend.”

Aaron sighs. “I’m sorry. I think it’s just confusing for him because to him, living together equals relationship since all he’s known is me and Hailey—”

“I’d like to be,” you interrupt his nervous rambling. “If that’s something you’d like, too.”

He blinks a few times, then smiles. “You…” He pauses. “Are you sure?”

“Aaron, I’ve liked you for so long and never said anything—”

“I’ve liked you for so long and never said anything,” he counters. “You’re serious?”

“Very,” you whisper.

When he kisses you, it’s what you’ve longed for all this time. It’s exactly what you’ve been yearning for. It’s exactly the kind of love you know now that you deserve.

Recovery has been messy, and will continue to be messy for some time, but you’ll have Aaron next to you every step of the way. Always.

[cheesy-cakey]

note this is a hatter au from a wattpad book I wrote.

You Weren't there

Kalim X Reader Angst

We had graduated.

We got married.

He inherited his family's riches.

We had a son.

We were happy...

We WERE.

I gazed out the window of my quarters.

I was no longer a Hatter... I was now an Al-Asim.

The Hatter name had died out the moment I decided to be a part of Kalim's family. I still owned our land and property. But I had no use for it.

I thought that this was going be our happily ever after.

Holding the one I love close. Kalim embracing me and our son.

But I guess reality doesn't have a happy ending... Especially us Hatter's.

As I watched the scene out the window.

In the garden was Kalim... With his 2rd wife and daughter.

Yes, that's right. I may be Kalim's first wife... but that doesn't mean I'm the only one.

I watched as he held her hand while with the other he carried his daughter.

I moved away from the window and sat on the plush bed of my quarters.

"How could I be so stupid. How could I be so blind. why did I think... That out of all the people in the world. I would have a happy ending." I muttered to myself as I leaned back on my arms tears pricking out of my eyes.

I went back to the window watching them hold each other close. I traced my hand on the glass feeling the coolness of the material.

I kneeled on the floor hand on the window sill while the other was on the floor.

"If happy ever after did exist~" I sang as I wrapped my arms around myself.

"I would still be holding you like this~"

"All those fairy tales are full of sh*t"

"One more f*cking love song I'll be sick" I sobbed as I was never meant to have a happy ever after.

3rd POV

Little did Y/N know that someone came to visit.

Watching through the crack from the slightly opened door.

Ali Al-Asim watched as his mother broke down crying.

"Why... why of all people... why does it have to be mother that suffers?"

He walked away knowing that it's better to not disturb her like this... He knew seeing him would just remind her of the happy ending she could've had.

He returned to him quarters and sat in one of the chairs in his room.

"Mother... You shouldn't be suffering like this... You told me father loved you... You said he loved you more than the stars in the sky... then why... why does he treat you this way? why does he neglect you? weren't we happy? weren't you happy?" He leaned his head back as tears pricked out his eyes.

"I never get to see you smile anymore. The smile that could shine brighter than the sun. Your eyes became dull... no longer full of hope and happiness like the stars."

he slammed his first into the table Infront of him as tears fell from his face.

"WHY DON'T YOU HAVE A HAPPY EVER AFTER!?"

The 15 year old couldn't bear to see his mother like this...

He's seen her cry too many times...

-Time Skip-

It was Ali's 16th birthday.

Which means a big celebration...

But his mother as much as she wants to attend she couldn't bring herself to leave her room.

The Hatter that used to be full of life, laughing, singing, dancing. The Hatter that enjoyed parties and seeing her friends smile... lost her spark.

-At the celebration-

"Happy Birthday, Young Master, Ali!" The servants cheered.

"Happy birthday, My son!" Kalim exclaimed as he greeted his first born.

"Thank you, Father!" Ali exclaimed with a smile.

"You're 16 now, which school do you wanna attend, Ali!?" His father asked excitedly.

"I want to go to Night Raven College! That's where you went to right, Father?"

"Yes, I did! Me and your uncle Jamil went there together!"

"Then it's settled, NRC it is!"

"I could have the headmaster make you dorm head as well!"

"No, Father. I wish to become dorm head with my own skills." He stated.

"Haaaah? fine, if that is what my son wants. Now everyone! enjoy the party!"

he walked away as he went to meet other guests.

A lot of people were here. His uncles from NRC. His Friends. even his half sister.

But there was only one person Ali wanted to be here.

Ali stood up from his seat and sneaked away.

He went to the quarters of someone he held dear.

he knocked on the door and heard a come in.

"Good evening, mother" he said with a soft smile.

"Ah! Ali, Happy Birthday" She replied with a tired but loving smile.

she was sitting by the window with it being wide open allowing the wind to enter.

He went closer the his mother and kneeled beside her.

"How are you feeling?" Ali asked.

"I'm feeling very well. So how is your birthday?"

"Nevermind the birthday. I just want to stay here with you" he said as he buried his face into her dress resting his head on her lap.

The lady giggled at her son's statement, watching him with caring eyes.

"I have a present for you" She said as she brought out a box.

Ali raised his head.

"Mother... you didn't have to" he said as he received it.

"Oh, but I do. this is something I've been meaning to give you"

Ali opened the box to see a top hat, a golden silk snake wrapping around the hat with a single Jasmine flower.

"It used to be mine. Sometimes in the Hatter family we give it to the person we marry but sometimes we also keep it. But this time it's time to pass it on to the descendant. I redecorated it for you. do you like it?" The elegant lady smiled as she remembered her memories with the hat and proud to be able to hand it down.

Ali looked as the hat.

"I love it... thank you mother" He thanked as he lied down on her lap once again.

"I'm glad you do, my dear son" She placed a hand on his white hair exactly the same as his father's.

Sher stroked his head gently as the moon shone down on them through the window.

-Timeskip-

It was now time for Ali to go to Night Raven College. He said farewell to everyone and as he was about to get on the Ebony Carriage he looked up to a window to see his mother smiling at him. he smiled back and entered.

-at the dorm sorting-

Ali was up next to be sorted.

"State thy name"

"Ali Al-Asim"

"The shape of thy soul... I see you best improve in Scarabia."

He stepped away from the mirror and joined the other students that were sorted into Scarabia.

He will make his mother proud.

-Time skip-

It had been a week since he had arrived. And just like that he had became a dorm head not from money but from skill.

He was currently in potions taught by Professor Crewel.

His phone then suddenly rang.

"Excuse me, Professor. I need to take this call"

"Of course, pup. but next time I won't be allowing it."

Ali answered his phone and it was one of the servants.

He was analysing his potion while he answered.

"What is it? I told you not to call me around this time because I'm in class."

"Apologies, young master. But it's about Lady Y/N"

"Mother? what about her? does she miss me? tell her I'll visit this weekend."

"It's not that sir"

"what is it then?"

"she umm"

"spit it out"

"The lady has passed away"

Ali suddenly dropped the beaker shattering it to a million pieces.

"Al-Asim! bad pup! what are you doing!?"

Ali stood up knocking his seat over. He slammed his hand on his desk that still had the shattered glass and spilled potion. good thing that the potion doesn't give much effect since it wasn't finished.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN PASSED AWAY!?" He yelled as tears pricked from his eyes.

"Al-Asim?" his professor called out worried.

"I mean what I exactly said, young master. The lady passed away earlier this morning. when the servant went to serve her breakfast she didn't wake up. they tried waking her up then realized she wasn't moving. they called a physician... and he said the lady had passed away"

"no... you're lying"

"Ali Al-Asim, what's wrong? Get your hands off the desk your starting to bleed." Crewel said as he took the boys hand from the broken glass and started cleaning it.

"Mother... is she really dead?"

"yes, sir"

"wait... your mother?" his professor asked

"As in... Y/N? she's... no longer with us?" his eyes wide as saucers.

Ali fell on his knees tears spilling not showing any signs of stopping any time soon.

"Mother... no... no... no no no NO! SHE CAN'T BE GONE!" He sobbed.

"Ashengrotto, take him to the infirmary to clean his wound up. The rest of you dismissed. I need to speak with the head master."

"Yes, professor"

-time Skip-

currently Ali was in the head masters office.

"Al-Asim. I heard what had happened. I'll let you go home for as long as you need. I apologize for your loss. You can use the mirror to go home." Crowley said as he watched the boy sob.

he himself wanted to cry since one of the most lovable students he had, had passed away.

"Your mother... was an incredible woman. Not only as a student but as a friend to the rest. It's a shame she... had to leave us so early. I thought that maybe... I'd be dead by the time she leaves."

"Thank you, headmaster... I'll be... heading out now" Ali exited the room and went to the mirror and went home.

Once he had arrived he was greeted by the servants but he just walked right pass.

His sister also greeted him, but he continued walking.

soon he arrived at his mother's bedroom. He saw her... looking like she's sleeping soundly... knowing she's never waking up again.

He walked to her bed side. held her now cold hand and feel to his knees and sobbed uncontrollably

"Mother!... Why.... WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LEAVE! I WAS GOING TO GIVE YOU THE HAPPY ENDING YOU DESERVE! BUT WHAT!? YOU ENDED YOUR STORY WITH LONGING THAT WAS NEVER FULFILLED!? WHY!?" he cried... not leaving her side for the rest of the day.

During her funeral, all her friends from NRC came. Tears spilled everywhere as they found their dear friend no longer with them.

they approached Ali who just stood by her coffin.

"Sorry... for your loss... Ali"

He just kept silent.

For the long duration of her funeral... Not once did his father... the man his dear mother loved and longed for, show up.

This had made the boy even more upset. but that did not overpower the sorrow he had.

-Time Skip-

The funeral had long ended...

His mother was buried...

he returned to school but barely spoke.

"Al-Asim... pup. I suggest you go meet with Professor Yuu. You need it"

Ali merely nodded as he went to his magicless professor who taught about monsters and health.

"Ali... take a seat"

Ali sat down across him.

"You haven't been sleeping have you... you have bags under your eyes. You look pale. Ali"

He just sat there.

"I know... I know you're depressed... Your mother was my vice prefect back in our school days. she was a wonderful woman to be with... she laughed... she sang... she smiled... but you know what I love most about her?"

Ali looked up and looked at Yuu.

"She makes people around her smile as well. She wouldn't want you to act like this. Y/N, She too lost a parent in her younger days. But that didn't stop her from being happy... She always had joy in her eyes... and you know you have her E/C eyes as well"

"So please... Don't let this bring you down. Your mother... Be like her. someone who smiles, laughed and most of all makes others do the same. sure reality doesn't have a happy ending. But you're writing your own story so make sure it leads to one."

Ali thought about it. looks back down... looks at the mirror in the room and looked straight into his E/N coloured eyes.

"You're right, Professor. Even if mother is gone... I should make her proud" Ali stood up with smile.

Ali bowed.

"Thank you, Professor Yuu!"

"Just call me, Yuu."

Ali smiled and ran off back to his dorm and to his room.

Yuu on the other hand stood up and went to the window and looked at the sky.

"I wish... I could've held you one last time... Y/N... I loved you so much" Yuu said as he let the tears fall.

Ali pulled a box from under his bed and opened it...

It may not fit his outfit but it doesn't matter.

he stood up holding the object and went to a mirror.

He looked straight at it and placed the hat he was given on his head.

"I'll prove... that I can give us a happy ending, Mother"

and with that Ali changed... He changed for the better. all the old staff watched him... and it reminded them of someone who they once cherished in this school.

-Time Skip-

it's been 2 years since Y/N's passing. Ali Al-Asim was now 18 years old. A third year.

But what's interesting is. when his 1st year ended the mirror had announced something... He was transferred to a different dorm.

-Flashback-

Just as they were all about to leave.

"Wait... It seems someone's soul had reshaped into something new." the mirror had stated.

"What? but that's not possible" Crowley said in surprise.

"Ali Al-Asim... Step forward"

Ali hesitantly stepped up.

"Yes... it seems your soul had reshaped... though you are still suited to be a part of Scarabia... Your heart... Is perfect for the Ramshackle Dorm"

"Isn't that"

"Your mother's old dorm... well it seems like you're becoming just like your mother" Crowley smiled as he placed a hand on the boys shoulder.

-end of flashback-

And since then he became the dorm head of the Ramshackle. His hat suited his outfit. he was happy.

And right now the 18 year old was going to make a decision that'll change his life.

Currently standing Infront of his father, Kalim Al-Asim. wearing a somewhat butler outfit somewhat similar to that of what his mother wore back in her younger days as a Hatter.

"Father... I don't wish to be an Al-Asim anymore."

"What? could you repeat that?"

"I don't want to be an Asim."

"But son! you're my eldest! you're my successor!"

"And I don't want to be your successor!"

"why!?"

"I want to continue mother's legacy!" Ali yelled as he gripped his wrist behind his back while looking down.

"what?"

"I want to be a Hatter! I want to carry on the Hatter name! I want to do this for mother! it the least you could let me do"

"the least I could let you do?"

"Yes! The most you could do was probably be there for her!"

"Ali"

"You left her all alone! making her cry every night! every night for you!"

"She didn't get her happily ever after! Cause you weren't there there for her! you weren't there for us!HECK She would've been contented with just you being there even if you didn't love her anymore!"

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN COME TO HER FUNERAL!" Ali snapped.

"I know you are aware that You're naive, gullible, oblivious and all that. but please... just see it... the least you could do" Ali looked up and looked Kalim straight in the eyes.

Kalim staring back into E/C colored orbs that was exactly the same as his wife that had recently passed away.

He looked down and took a deep breathe

"Alright"

"Huh?"

"I'll... let you go..."

"Really?"

"yes... as you said... it's the least I could do for not even attending the funeral."

"Thank you... father" Ali smiled as he walked away.

this was a new start for Ali... Becoming just like his mother. Writing a happily ever after for them.

We can't say the same for Kalim though.

He sat at his chair.

His 2rd wife entered the room and sat beside him.

"What did he want?" she asked.

"To leave the family"

"what?"

"He... wanted to become a Hatter to continue Y/N's legacy."

"I see... don't worry I'm here... and besides I'm sure we can make a new heir."

"I'm not in the mood"

"But, dear~"

right then and there Kalim snapped.

"I SAID IM NOT IN THE MOOD!" He yelled.

"BECAUSE OF YOUR DAMN FAMILY THREATENING TO HURT MY SON AND MY BELOVED WIFE I WAS FORCED TO NEGLECT HER!"

"IF IT WASN'T FOR YOUR DAMN FAMILY I WOULD PROBABLY BE HOLDING HER RIGHT NOW WITH ANOTHER CHILD!"

"ALL BECAUSE YOU WANTED ME TO LOVE YOU! YOU'RE DELUSIONAL IF YOU THINK I WOULD!"

"What is it... WHAT IS IT DOES SHE HAVE THAT I DON'T!?"

"My heart... that's what it is... SHE WAS MY EVERYTHING! HER SMILE THAT WAS PRACTICALLY MY SUN! HER EYES THAT SHIMMERED LIKE THE STARS!"

"SHE DESERVES TO BE DEAD! SHE'S NOT FIT TO BE YOUR WIFE! SHE'S NOT FIT TO HAVE YOU! ME, ME, ME! IT WAS ME WHO SHOULD HAVE YOU! SHE'S HIDEOUS! SHE'S DUMB! SHE'S NAIVE! SO WHY WON'T YOU LOOK AT ME!"

"DON'T YOU DARE THAT ABOUT HER! FIRST OF ALL SHE'S THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN TO HAVE EVER EXISTED THAT EVEN VIL SAID SO! YOU WOULD NEVER BE AS BEAUTIFUL AS HER! SECOND SHE GRADUATED FROM NRC WITH TOP GRADES FITTING INTO THE TOP 50! SHE KNOWS MORE THAN YOU EVER WILL! AND THIRD OF ALL SHE'S NOT AS NAIVE AS YOU THINK! SHE EXPERIENCED THE CRUELTY OF THE WORLD TO THE POINT SHE WAS ALMOST BROKEN! BUT SHE JUST SMILED AND SAID THAT EVERYTHING WOULD BE JUST FINE! I BET YOU WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO HANDLE IT IF IT HAD HAPPENED TO YOU! FACE IT I'LL NEVER LOOK AT YOU THE SAME I DO WITH HER!"

"THAT'S WHY I KILLED HER SO YOU WOULD ONLY LOOK AT ME- MPH!" she clasped her mouth shut trembling from what came out.

"what? WHAT did you just say?"

"n-nothing!"

"WE HAD A DEAL! YOU WOULD LEAVE THEM ALONE IN EXCHANGE FOR ALL OF THIS!"

"I-I didn't mean to!"

"DIDN'T MEAN TO MY *SS! AS IF I'D BELIEVE THAT! JAMIL!"

Soon Jamil entered the room. in truth he was about to enter till he heard screaming and heard the entire thing.

"Yes, Kalim"

"Take her away. make her confess EVERYTHING that she had done. After that could you call Azul? I want to have a talk with him to deal with something."

"Yes, of course" Jamil left with the 2nd wife being taken away by guards.

"WAIT! KALIM PLEASE! I LOVE YOU! DON'T DO THIS TO ME!"

As they all left the room Kalim sat down and tears started running down his face.

"Why was I so stupid? thinking I could protect you without having to hurt anyone but as a result I ended up hurting you... then lost you. I should've dealt with them from the start. I should've just been there for you... now I not only lost you... but I lost our son too... haha! why am I so stupid?"

For the rest of the night Kalim just cried. knowing can never bring you back.

-END-

"isn't that an interesting timeline."

"Didn't know that there would be a bad ending to their story. I hope this timeline won't stick it would be so sad~" a voice said as she closed a book that's titled 'You Weren't there'

soon the book started to become grains of sand.

"oh? what is this?"

"The timeline is disintegrating"

"I guess that means that story won't be sticking around."She then pushed up her glasses as she looked back at the millions of books being written each having a pen that glows with inspiration and life."I wonder who's story would be finished next~ would the story disappear? or will it be part of the official collection?"

"Let's see what endings are in-store~ After all"

"I am the story keeper~"

[itgirlification]

supermodel | jjk

the last three months have been hell for you, but Jungkook seemed to be living his best life.

pairing: ex-bf!jk x thick!reader

warnings: explicit mentions of body image and insecurities, infidelity, anal sex, oral (male receive), foul language (kinda), etc.

now playing: supermodel by sza

part two part three

Exactly three months ago, your and Jungkook’s 2 years relationship officially ended. Unofficially, it ended about 5 months ago. And for about one month now, Jungkook’s been seeing someone else.

Your heart and mind told you not to do it but you couldn’t help calculating. Three months ago, you were still dating, two months later, he started dating someone else. That must mean he’s known her for a while. Did he cheat on you with her? Well, it’s not like it matters now anyway, does it?

Her name was Yuki, an undeniable Japanese beauty. You were still in college, studying music and she was a famous model who appeared in internationally known magazines. You assumed she met Jungkook during a photoshoot since he was a professional photographer who often worked for companies like Vogue and Playboy. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to her.

It wasn’t the fact that he moved on so quickly that hurt you the most. It was the fact that he knew all about your low self-esteem and how you lack confidence. Especially about your body. And he still went and dated a model, of all professions in the world. He was definitely over you.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he did it on purpose. But thankfully, you knew better, he looked too happy for that to be even considered. He forgot about you.

You’re making yourself sadder by remembering all the times he assured you you were beautiful and your body was nothing to be ashamed of. The times he let his fingertips run over the lines of your stretch marks, whispering in your ear how much he loved them and how they reminded him of Tiger stripes. The times he caressed your jiggly thighs and told you how sexy he thought they were.

Then your mind would drift back to the phone in your hand, the Instagram page of Yuki Sakurai opened, careful not to accidentally like anything and expose yourself. Not that she’d notice anyway, she had 3.7 million followers, while you had a private one with 500 followers and no posts, and she gets around 300 to 700 thousand likes on each post, depending on whether she posts random photos or pretty pictures of herself. Or newly, your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook. Oh, how crazy everybody goes whenever she posts him. People love them together. You couldn’t blame them. Two attractive people? Of course, they’re gonna look great together.

Fucking great.

That the end of your relationship with Jungkook would look like this was semi-predictable from the beginning. He did admit to you that he never thought he’d date someone that looked like you when you first dated. And your heart broke a little. But he also made up for it in those two years, it was a beautiful relationship nonetheless.

While you weren’t exactly his ‘ideal’ type, he was definitely yours. You always heard from other women ‘when in a relationship, the man always has to love the woman more than she loves him. Otherwise, it won’t work.’ You never really got the saying until your breakup with Jungkook happened. It was the fact that you clearly loved Jungkook more than he loved you that lead to this.

“Oh my goodness!”, your roommate, Jane, dramatically exclaimed. “Will you stop feeling bad for yourself and do something? That’s not what hot girls do, sis.”

Jane was a lovely girl with a not so lovely temper. She always means well and you got along perfectly as soon as you met. Which was around 3 and a half years ago.

She looked over your shoulder to see what you were looking at. You obviously didn’t want her to see you snooping around your ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s Instagram but it was too late.

“Seriously, yn?”, she took your phone in her hand and threw it on the bed. “Let’s go somewhere, you can’t do this to yourself anymore. I’m not letting you.”

Jane was clearly worried about you at this point. The only thing you did these last few weeks was eating, shower, cry, sleep and miss a whole bunch of classes. This wasn’t good at all.

“Where?”, your question was short.

“To the mall? Or the nail studio? Anything that’ll get you out of this fucking dormitory.”, Jane sighed, pulling the blanket off of you, making you whine a little. “C’mon, go put on some cute outfit and we’ll go.”

You felt bad since she was trying hard to make you feel better. But it didn’t really work.

You nodded, standing up from the bed, nonetheless. You picked out a cute two-piece dress, that brought back blurred memories of the time you went on a date with Jungkook, wearing the same two-piece. Bet Yuki would look cuter in this...

‘Shut your petty ass up, yn. It’s embarrassing, the way you’re stuck on a taken guy who wants nothing to do with you’

You wish you could change the way you think, even if it’s just for an hour or two. You wish you would stop imagining Jungkook judging you when he saw you naked or when you told him that you wished you could cut off some of your fat with a pair of scissors.

You were beyond ashamed of yourself. Why wasn’t it easy for you to just stay by yourself? why were you so desperately in need of Jungkook by your side to the point where you’d lock yourself in your room for a month just because he isn’t there?

You needed Jungkook. You became so attached to him in those two years, because you always saw him as a permanent, a forever. Not just a temporary, not just a distant memory. You already saw him as the father of your children, as the man you’re gonna marry.

You were so blinded by the fact that you had him, that you forgot you could lose him anytime.

“I’m done, let’s go.”, unenthusiastically, you announced to Jane, who was already waiting for you.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here!”, In contrast to your spirit, hers seemed to be all roses and daisies. “Lord knows you need it...”

__________

“Look at this cute ass skirt, girl”, Jane pointed at a chic, wine mini skirt she was holding. “You know, when I saw it back there I wanted to have it, but it’d look so much better on you”

You took a few seconds to admire Jane’s beauty. She was about 3 cm taller than you, had a great posture, and almond, dark brown eyes that suited her dark skin tone perfectly. Her body leaned more towards the slimmer side.

“Shut up! No, it would not”, you let out a small giggle. “It would look gorgeous on you, buy it.”

She smiled a little at your laughs. She was happy to see you at least a little cheerful again. “Yeah, but I think it’d look better on you. I’m entitled to my own opinion, am I not?”

You knew this debate was gonna go back and forth, because of her stubbornness. “Let’s both buy the skirt.”

You ended up doing so, added by a bunch of bags full of clothing. This may’ve turned into your new coping mechanism. Who needed therapy when you can go on a shopping spree?

Two hours were spent in boutiques and clothing stores and Jane decided she was tired, wanting to visit the local spa.

“No, seriously, these Riverdale seasons just keep on getting worse and worse. Netflix needs to step up their game ASAP”, Jane ranted, making you laugh at how serious she takes it. “It’s getting embarrassing. I’m being for real.”

The two of you were sitting in the whirlpool at the spa, relaxing your whole bodies a little.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I don’t watch these new Netflix shows anyways. Been stuck on the vampire diaries for the last 7 years”, you chuckled, knowing you hated trying new things. “Can you pass me one of those magazines?”

Jane nodded, grabbing a random one from the table next to her and handed it to you, without looking at it.

The cover of it caught your eyes immediately. How could it not, when your ex’s new girl looks absolutely dazzling on the front page of it.

‘Supermodel Yuki Sakurai talks summer fashion tips, struggle with self-love and most importantly, her hot, new boyfriend the media is going crazy over’ was the headline of the Harper’s Bazaar Magazine cover.

You felt your stomach getting sick and your breath getting heavier, but you still flipped the pages until you found the one with her interview. You began reading it, skipping the boring parts.

‘Int: so, we see you have a new boyfriend. Tell us, how did you guys meet?

Yuki: Yeah, he’s an amazing guy. We actually met about six or five months ago at one of my photoshoots, since he’s a photographer and we exchanged numbers and stuff, and then we made it official mid last month.’

About six or five months ago? You were with him back then, but her answer was too unclear to find out if he cheated or not.

“Woah, yn, you okay?”

You entirely forgot about the fact that you were with Jane, let alone somewhere other than your bed.

Before you could react, Jane snatched the magazine out of your hand.

“You really can’t escape them, huh?”, She sighs, taking you in her arm. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. In a few months, you’re gonna look back to this and think wow I really was stuck on a guy who’s scared of microwaves and cried like a bitch when Iron Man died.”

You laughed, punching her arm playfully. “You know, I actually love these things about him. Shows his sensitivity and the way he perceives things.”

Jane looked at you as if she didn’t believe you were actually saying that stuff. “Girl, you’re overanalyzing this. Let’s just throw this shit in the trash, okay?”

She put the magazine aside.

“I just don't know what I did wrong.”, You murmured. “I know we weren't the best, but we didn't even fight that much. We could’ve talked it through.”

Jane pursed her lips and cooed. “You know, relationships are complicated sometimes. The reason why he broke up, to begin with, is probably not your fault.”

“Well, what if it is? I mean what if I was too fat or too ugly for him?”, you asked. “If he wanted a skinny girl so bad, I could’ve lost weight for him, I don’t get it.”

Jane looked at you like you lost your mind entirely. “I can’t believe you just said that! Even if that was the reason, which it wasn’t, you shouldn’t make yourself suffer because of it. That’s his loss. You’re beyond gorgeous and you have an amazing body.”

“You’re just saying that.”, tears slowly started coming up in your eyes. “But the thing is Jungkook knows all about my insecurities. Why would he do that to me? I know he knows that I’m still not over him.”

You usually didn’t like crying in front of other people, but you didn’t really care at the moment, besides that was Jane. You trusted her with your life.

“Girl, men are trash, I can’t believe you’re crying over one right now, seriously.”, she wiped your tears and held your face between her hands. “You know, honestly, I’ve read so many articles about how models actually hate themselves and have like the lowest self-esteem so in conclusion, no matter how miserable you are, his new girl is even more miserable.”

You knew Jane didn’t mean it in a harmful way, but it sounded harsher than needed. “I don’t hate her, she probably doesn’t even know about me. I’m just really insecure. He upgraded from me. He’s dating a whole model now.”

The situation just felt like a deja vu of these last few weeks laying in your bed, even though you were at the spa with your friend. You were supposed to have fun, yet you didn’t feel like having any.

“Why would you feel insecure when all you’ve seen of her are Instagram posts and red carpet pictures? She’s supposed to look beautiful, it’s her job.”

To a certain extent, Jane was right, but that didn’t really help your situation, you still felt bad about yourself. You stayed silent.

“C’mon, this isn’t fun anymore. Let’s leave.”, Jane mumbled.

_______

it’s been two days since the incident at the spa and you felt a little bit better now.

Those days were spent reading the same three book series you’ve read your entire life, overthinking, hot Cheetos, Indian takeout, and Netflix. It really wasn’t as miserable as it sounded.

You were just taking a little rest before term break ends and you have to go back to the shithole college again.

Jane was using the time until college starts again, but in different ways than you were. She was planning on going to some frat party in an hour and forget about the world’ for a minute. Or till 4 in the morning, where she will most likely drunk call you and ask you for a ride back to the dorms, because the friends she went to the party with were shit-faced as well and were in no way capable of driving anywhere without the cops stopping them.

Going out partying on a Friday night was a Jane tradition. In the past, you’d sometimes go with her, but you mostly spent your time out with Jungkook doing something more fun than partying could ever be. Now you can’t do that anymore, but laying in bed is more ideal than a party for you at the moment.

“How do I look?”, Jane twirled around to show off her black cocktail dress. She looked beautiful.

“You look beautiful.”, you responded to her question. “Are you leaving now?”

“Hm”, she said, to which you nodded. “You sure you don’t wanna come with me? It’s gonna be really fun.”

You shook your head no.

“Alright”, she shrugged, making her way out of your bedroom. “But I told you, it’s gonna be fun.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “I’ll stay here, I have shit to do.”

“Yeah, right, like binge-watching the vampire diaries and taking 5-hour naps”, she said in a sarcastic tone. “Anyway, bye-bye, Vic’s already waiting for me in the car.”

Victoria was perhaps one of the most obnoxious people you know, yet she was too much of a nice person for you to talk shit about her. The voice of your intrusive thoughts couldn’t help but to, though.

“Alright, bye, take care and say hi to Vic from me.”

After Jane left, an hour went by like it was just a couple of minutes. You were starting to get real bored and decided to watch some regular tv in hopes to find something you enjoy. You ended up not finding anything fun, but you still watched it, because you didn’t have anything else to do.

A few moments later, the doorbell rang and you were suddenly worried. Either this is a serial killer or Jane forgot something.

But to your surprise, it was neither, but it was none other than

“Jungkook?”, truly, those were the only words you were able to mutter out at your shocked state. “What are you do-“

At the speed of light, you were interrupted by your ex-boyfriend pressing his lips to yours. He didn’t say a word.

You weren’t expecting him. Not knowing how you were supposed to feel at the moment, you just let it happen. You were sure your mental state couldn’t get any worse than that, no matter how this will affect you in the end.

“Is Jane home?”, for the first time in 3 months, you’re hearing his silky voice again.

Jungkook knew Jane always had some type of special hatred for him with her killing stares and her bitter comments. You didn’t notice either though.

He also knew she must hate him even more after your breakup. Or maybe she liked him more now since she was able to get rid of him without killing anyone.

“No”, your answer was short and it made a weight fall from Jungkook’s shoulders before he continued kissing you.

It wasn’t anything you haven’t done before, yet it felt like it’s been ages since it last happened. Your mind drifted to the thought of Jungkook and his model girlfriend. You were asking yourself what their sex life was like, if she was tighter than you or if she had stretch marks and scars.

Jungkook’s lips were moving south, giving your neck wet kisses, while you were wondering why he broke up with his model girlfriend. Or if he even did. You felt selfish for not caring.

Removing your clothes one by one, you were left in your underwear, while Jungkook only had his boxers on.

This body was yours. You knew it inside out. Where he liked to get touched and where he preferred not to. You knew him better than anyone else. You were sure.

You already moved to your bedroom, since Jungkook effortlessly carried you there. You were sat on his lap, facing him and your hands were in his messy hair. His hands were around your waist, he was slightly smiling into the kiss, as you started grinding on him. He loved how easy it was for him to turn you on. You were still his.

Cutting off the kiss, he looked you in the eyes, while his hand was on your cheek. “Say aah.”, he said.

You widened your mouth obediently, which was followed by him collecting as much saliva as he could in his mouth and spitting it into your mouth.

“Swallow.”, demanding, he spit on your face, his eyes become darker with every passing moment. You did as he said.

You looked at him with big eyes. He knew you loved it. You’ve always had a thing for him degrading and humiliating you during sex.

He started grinding on you almost desperately. You knew exactly what he wanted.

Getting out of his grip, you dropped to your knees and freed his hard dick from his drawers. You reached for it and started pumping it, and licking it. Your spit was leaking down his dick as you used it for lubrication. Then you started sucking on it, just the way you used to.

Jungkook’s groans and satisfied sighs were enough to make you even wetter than before. You enjoyed giving more than receiving.

Your mouth was wet and warm around him, giving him a feeling of familiarity. You lick over the tip a few times, then proceed to fully take him into your mouth.

The bulge in your throat could be seen and the way your eyes were tearing up a little wasn’t bothering you at all. You loved giving.

Jungkook started thrusting in and out of your warm, welcoming mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat multiple times.

“Fuck”, a throaty moan left Jungkook’s mouth, giving you hints that he was about to cum. And he did, releasing in your mouth before you swallowed it. “Shit, baby, that was so good.”

You felt your face heat up and a sheepish smile made its way to your face. Your throat was sore.

The two of you were on the bed again. To you, it felt like it was the times before your breakup again, when you’d purposely start an argument just for the makeup sex because Jungkook wasn’t giving you any anymore. It was like sex was the only thing to look forward to.

You felt attached to Jungkook to a point where it was dangerous. You weren’t okay when he wasn’t around. He affected every part of your life and God knew it wasn’t always a positive thing. Maybe it was the fact that he took your virginity. Maybe because he was your first boyfriend, the first guy that made you believe you were worthy of love and that someone was actually capable of loving you. One thing you knew was Jungkook had an expansive influence on your life.

While you were practically drowning in your own thoughts, Jungkook was busy taking off your underwear.

“You okay?”, Jungkook calmly asked you, looking at your riddled face.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay.”, you sounded distracted, Jungkook wasn’t sure about asking you what it is though. He didn’t feel like getting personal.

So he shrugged it off and started kissing you again, his dick was unsurprisingly hard again as he played with your tits. He drew lines over the stretch marks of your thighs and kissed them.

“Can I fuck your ass?”, Jungkook’s raspy, tired-sounding voice casually asked, to which you quickly nodded, knowing that Jungkook’s favorite position had always been anal. He was massaging and gripping your ass firmly.

“This is gonna hurt at first, but I promise it gets better.”, He warned calmly into your ear, while putting some lube on his dick and just went right into your ass, slowly thrusting so you don’t feel as much pain.

He was right, it did hurt a lot when he first put it in, but the pain just changed into pleasure in a matter of time and his slow-paced thrusts helped with the adjustment.

“Fuck, I missed this ass”, he practically growled into your ear, as he kept on thrusting in and out, steadily gripping your wide hips with his big, veiny hands. “It just doesn’t feel right when I’m inside her ass.”

You knew your confidence shouldn’t rely on Jungkook bringing his girlfriend down, but you couldn’t help but feel good about your body when he said that. It’s been a while since you felt even a tiny spark of confidence. You weren’t so fond of him mentioning her while he was inside of you.

Your soft moans rang through the whole room like sirens, while he watched your ass jiggle against his pelvis, thrusting in and out faster every second. He missed this.

You had always thought you were indecisive, but you knew exactly what you wanted. You just couldn’t have that, so you’d eventually have to settle for less.

Jungkook wasn’t to blame for it, you just couldn’t concede your shortcomings. The movie’s villain wasn’t always the real villain.

Your hands traveled to your pussy to make sure you’d orgasm as well, when you heard Jungkook’s breathing getting heavier and his thrusts getting gentler than before, indicating that he was gonna cum soon. You were certain he could make you cum with just anal, but you wanted to cum with him.

With furrowed eyebrows and drops of sweat dripping down his body, Jungkook looked down at your arched back. The whole scene was sticky, especially when Jungkook presses his upper body to your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and kissing the spot.

It was kinda odd, having sex with your ex-boyfriend you were crying over just a day ago. There was a certain intensity to it though. Like your long-lasting nostalgia was finally fulfilled.

You’ve realized you couldn’t imagine yourself being intimate with anybody else. Jungkook already knew your body, how it looked without the material protecting it, the strawberry skin, the slightly sagging breasts you swore you’d surgically remove once you had the chance to but didn’t. He knew where you liked being touched, he was the first one to even touch you in those places.

You were unsure what you’d do with yourself when he leaves.

Jungkook’s thrusts slowly started stopping and you too felt the familiar sensation in your stomach.

Suddenly, you two were nothing but desire, fear, and pleasure. And faster than you could process, you came together.

For minutes after your orgasm, you were just laying on the bed, thoughtless. Maybe a little regretful. Not you, but him.

You weren’t facing each other, but you could hear each other’s breathing. Your stomach was filled with something you’d describe as post-sex melancholia.

All of a sudden, Jungkook stood up from the bed, startling your resting self a little, but you decided to keep quiet, wanting to see what he was going to do.

He made his way to the door to leave what he thought was your sleeping body laying there. You couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“Where are you going?”, your soft voice suddenly rang in his ears. “Don’t you wanna stay?”

He didn’t know how exactly to tell you. You’ve always been a gullible little girl, you were the type of girl to think fucking equals love. Little did you know that wasn’t the case at all.

“Yn.... you know I can’t”, Jungkook responded, you knew it wasn’t gonna be good when he said your name like that. “I got a girl at home and I don’t wanna mess shit up with her.”

There it was. Your suspicion was corroborated. He was still going out with the model and you were a certified home wrecker. Great.

You physically felt your heart breaking. “Bu- but why are you here then?”

You were incapable of being mad at him at the moment. It was your fault for letting him in, again. After breaking your trust and your heart.

“This was a mistake”, he declared, not looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry, yn...”

He’s moved past your room now, already at the exit of your dormitory. He was about to leave.

“You already ruined shit with her when you came here and fucked me.”, your voice was small, but your words were heard.

Without looking back, he left.

And you went back to your room, standing in the middle of it for a minute in silence before your brain fully processed what had happened and your tears started pouring.

[danniburgh]

Sins of the Flesh (priest!Dave York x f!reader)

Pairing: priest!Dave York x f!reader

Summary:  His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed. “Lord, have mercy on me.”

Word count: +10.9k

Warnings: religion! catholic religion to be precise, a lot A LOT of religious references and undertones (shot every time you find one lmao), age gap (around 15 years, reader is legal), smut, unprotected p in v, oral sex, breaking of celibacy vows!, catholic guilt, me making divine metaphors... i think thats it.

A/N: first of all this is all @asta-lily​’s fault, she asked why no one had turned this man into a priest and i said “ok ill do it” so i did it, she is to blame. also i wanna say thanks to the pocket wives that encouraged this creation, sorry my loves, this isnt as slutty as yall thought lmao, and thanks to @alliterative-albatross​ who gave me all the bible verses that shaped this story as well. and i wanna thank the creator of this playlist that i listened over and over while writing this, and yeah, sorry for this monstrosity, love you <3

Masterlist // Read on ao3 // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

moodboard by @asta-lily

“So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.”–James 4:12.

Sunday 1.

Like a piece in a puzzle.

That’s how you fit in.

There, sitting in the middle of a ten people polished wood bench, eyes on the four feet tall crucified Jesus on the wall above the altar, ready for the first sermon you were to hear after coming back home.

Home. That was the name.

That church felt like home.

You were enjoying sitting there, among the children you met a couple of hours earlier when you were introduced to them as their new catechesis teacher, breathing in and out the myrrh incense burning and invading the navel and your lungs, filling them with new energy, getting them ready to feel the love that you were sure was about to pour over you.

You heard your name behind you and you turned around to see Mrs. Stevens, one of your mother’s friends waving at you from two rows behind.

“Hi, honey!” she smiled at you and immediately you reciprocated “I heard you were in town, are you staying this time?”

You drowned a chuckle inside your chest and bit your lip, nodding. Just realizing you even had missed the venomous messages hidden behind the kind words mouthed by old catholic moms.

“Yes, Mrs. Stevens, I’m staying this time.” you replied, the woman lifted her hand a bit to the sky and you smirked to her.

“God bless, I bet your mom is delighted you’re here!” she muttered “I know she missed you terribly all those years you were in that school.”

“It’s called college, Mrs. Stevens,” you reminded the woman, and she rolled her eyes, making you chuckle softly again “but do not worry for my mama anymore, I graduated, I’m staying for good.” you told her, amused at the way she acted as if you staying at home was some godsend blessing.

The organ began to play on the upper balcony behind everyone and you saw two altar boys, carbon copy of each other, almost rushing their way to the altar, and behind them… Father Dave.

You smiled softly at the sight of him as he walked solemnly to the altar, his green chasuble flowing with the air and the movement, there was a thought you had all those years you were away from home because of school, always coming back to Father Dave York: the young priest that decided to stay in the first congregation he was sent to, the one that became a pillar to the community, the holy man that held the direct link to God and that gave you your first communion, the one you missed when you went to attend mass at the church near campus because no one gave the sermons like he did. For some reason, whenever you least expected, you thought of him.

You saw him putting his bible on top of the pressed cloth over the altar, kneel and kiss the center of it and cross himself. And then, after he closed his eyes and muttered a prayer to himself and to God, he opened his deep brown eyes and he looked at you.

“Let us pray.”

Your mouth dried when his deep timbered voice, with the help of a small microphone on his altar, wrapped the entire navel and you with it, he looked at you as he cleared his throat and he opened his arms to the sky, breaking eye contact with you.

“Lord, have mercy.” he murmured, and the congregation replied to his prayer as you struggled to find the air that had escaped your lungs.

As Father Dave guided the congregation through the sermon and through the prayers, all you could see was him.

In some way, there was something different about him you hadn’t noticed the last time you were there; you didn’t know if it was something about his deep voice as he recited the credo by muscle memory, the way he walked from one side of the sanctuarium to the other as he talked about the scripture or the way his hands wrapped around the chalice when one of the altar boys handed it to him as the organ echoed all around the navel, announcing the communion.

You stood up and walked to the back of the line and sighed as he lifted the wafer to the sky, and your eyes closed by themselves when he lifted the chalice and took a sip from the sacramental wine and locked your eyes on him as the line moved.

As soon as you were in front of him your lips parted and he smiled at you softly.

“The body of Christ.” he murmured, his deep brown eyes on yours as they filled with tears.

“Amen” and you opened your mouth.

He put the wined wafer between your lips and his thumb brushed with your chin, making your skin burn as you brought it inside of your mouth with your tongue and forced yourself to walk away from him.

As you returned to your seat with the gold cross that hung from your neck between your fingers and kneeled to pray for the forgiving of your sins, all you could think of was brown, deep eyes, and a soft, brief touch on your chin that burned more than the wax of a burning taper.

Dave felt it.

The way you looked at him throughout the entire service.

And it made him feel different.

When you rose from your seat to walk to the communion line, he saw the way your body moved, almost as if you were floating instead of walking.

He knew you were back, and his heart was happy you were finally home.

But he didn’t expect to see you so changed.

And he didn’t expect the way your eyes had made him feel.

Then you were in front of him, and he smiled because he remembered the first time he handed the body of Christ to you, years and years before.

And your eyes filled with tears as his breath hitched when your lips parted for him as he fed you the sacred soul of the savior.

God, have mercy.

His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed.

Lord, have mercy on me. He thought as he entered the sacristy.

“Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.”–Proverbs 28:13.

Sunday 2.

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” Dave heard your voice next to him and felt the air leave from his lungs. Not you, please God, not you.

You had been avoiding Father Dave for almost the entire week.

And you felt guilty about it.

You couldn’t even look at him in the eyes and not think about those dreams you were having about him.

If God was all love and perfection, why was he tempting you with dreams of Father Dave, his own servant, touching you in places you got shivers from, warming your body with his own, putting his mouth on your skin as you repeated his name like it was the sanctus?

Holy, holy, holy.

Why was God putting inside your head the sins of the flesh you had already asked forgiveness for? Why was he making you desire a forbidden man? A man that was not to be perceived as a man but as the representation of him on earth.

That morning, when you walked into the church to impart the catechesis class, you saw Jesus on the cross and you saw him look at you. And you knew he knew.

All omnipresent, all omniscient, all omnipotent.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Almighty God why were you thinking about him so much?

And the resolution in your mind was asking for forgiveness, you needed to pay penitence for those thoughts you knew you did.

But were you really about to confess to the man you had been dreaming about that he was invading your every thought?

“It has been two weeks since my last confession.” you mumbled, playing with your cross over your neck, Dave breathed in deeply and intertwined his hands on his lap.

“What are your sins?” he asked, closing his eyes as he remembered his own.

Dave was always a man of faith. It was in him from birth. He had been taught and trained to not fall into any temptations and so far his life had been devoted and dedicated to God and only to God.

But your eyes and the way you saw him, and the way your eyes made him feel when they locked on his, had him spiraling down into decadence.

Sometimes, dedicating his life to the word of the Lord made him forget he was still a human, he was still a man.

He had needs.

And he was alright before your eyes. Before your holy eyes were on him.

He had dreamed of them; he had thought of them; he had imagined them when he was in the limbo between sleep and awakeness.

He had dreamed of your lips, of your lips on his skin, he had thought of those lips that just looked like they needed someone to wet them and bring them back to life; he had imagined those lips of yours in places of his body he swore never to use.

He had prayed for them to disappear; he had begged to his God to erase those thoughts of his mind and free them from the temptation that was incarnated in you, in your body, in your eyes that denied to see him when you were in the same room, in your hands as you moved them to teach the children, in your legs trapped in the tight denim of your jeans, in your lips as you smiled to everyone but him, in your entire being, just by existing.

But they had increased, like a tamed flame sprayed with gasoline. He had a fire in his chest, one that was spreading through him as he was closer to you.

He needed them gone; he had sworn to never look at a woman as an object of desire; he had sworn on his life and he had vowed his commitment.

But you were there, kneeling next to him, separated by the thinnest patterned panel, holding the matches and the fuel.

“I’ve been having… improper thoughts, father,” you whispered, closing your eyes and left your necklace alone, clutching your hands together as tight as you could, you felt the aura change and the air grow thicker between him and you, “about a man.”

Dave opened his eyes at your confession and frowned. A man?

He knew you could tell him whatever you wanted; he knew he wasn’t allowed to ask in for details; he knew he was only there functioning as a link for you to get absolved from your sins and you were a young woman granted of free will and enough time to ask for absolution but he wanted to know; he needed to know who that man was.

“He is ol–older than me,” he heard you mumble and his hands tightened their grip on each other “and I can’t have him, father, I–I’ve been having these thoughts about a forbidden man.”

Dave’s mind went reeling, and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t like to assume about the life of his congregation members, he never did, but you were talking to him, after he had been dreaming about you for days, after you two shared something about desiring another man. And he was angry. He wanted to know who. He wanted to know who was keeping your mind the same way you were keeping his.

“He keeps me up at night, thinking of him, that is,” you whispered “I’ve–Jesus,” you let out the air of your lungs and Dave breathed in deeply once more “I’ve touched myself thinking of him.” you said under your breath and Dave felt his chest tug and turn.

“Does this man… know what he is causing in you?” he muttered with a frown and heard you sigh.

“No, I don’t want him to.”

“Alright, child,” he replied after a few seconds, and made a grimace of disgust at the pet name. It felt wrong, and he felt dirty with the word on his mouth, “do you repent these sins?”

“Yes, father, I do.” you closed your eyes at his words and wanted, for once, to be brave and tell him he was the one roaming around your mind. But it wasn’t fair.

“Please, recite in silence the act of contrition,” he muttered to you and you obeyed, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

As he waited for you to finish, he did the same on his side of the confession box

I’m choosing to sin and failing to do good.

“Amen.” you said, and he murmured the word to the ceiling.

“I think the word you do for the church,” he started, and you wrinkled your nose at the thought of him knowing it was you “the devotion you have, and how you repent, you don’t need to pay penance,” he muttered separating his hands and putting two fingers on the edge of the patterned panel that separated the two of you “through the ministry of the church,” your breath hitched as he whispered the words to you, and you saw with teary eyes the shadow of his fingers on the panel “man God give you pardon and peace,” you bit your lip and unclutched your hands, lifting your fingers and pressing it to his as two heavy tears fell from your eyes.

Dave felt the pressure of your touch and felt his hand tremble.

“And I ab–absolve you from your sin.” he said under his breath, pressing back.

“Thank you, father.” you whispered, not moving your fingers. You could feel the warmth of his through it and for a few seconds, you could also feel his eyes on your face.

Dave was the one to break the contact first. Absentmindedly brushing his fingers on his stole as he saw the shadow of you move and get out of the confession box.

He sat there, thankful you were the only one that morning and thinking about what you had told him.

A man of God, a man of hope. He had hoped, even if it was a sin and even if it was forbidden by pure creed and vow, that you were feeling the same as he was.

For a moment, he wondered about those thoughts… Were you thinking about that lucky old man touching you? Were you thinking about that man kissing you? What did that man look like? He wanted to be that man; he wanted to be the one whose touch you desired; he wanted to be that man you thought of as you sneaked your hand inside your underwear at night and brought yourself to pleasure. He wanted to be the one whose kiss you yearned for as your sex ached for attention; he wanted to be the one whose fingers you imagined as your own were buried deep inside you.

He fisted the flesh of his thigh over his dress pants and forced himself to stop thinking of you like that.

Dave stayed inside the confession box for twenty minutes more, praying for forgiveness, as he had done every night since you had been back.

At service, he saw you further back on the benches and he tried not to sneak glances at you as you sat there with your precious eyes on the crucifix above him, avoiding him at all costs.

And at communion, he tried not to brush your soft skin with his fingers as he fed you the wined wafer, failing when his knuckle brushed your cheek, his chest deflating when he noticed the way your face quirked in pain when you muttered Amen at him. Dave tried not to make anything of the fact that you kneeled more time than anyone else on the congregation after receiving the communion.

And when the service was over and he was alone in the sacristy, he tried and failed to not think about your skin, your eyes, your hands and your lips all over his neglected body.

That sunday night Father Dave masturbated in the shower thinking about you with your fingers deep inside you as his mind imagined it was him you thought of when you touched yourself in the darkness of the night and prayed for forgiveness.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that.

“Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul.”–1 Peter 2:11.

Sunday 3.

“Father, sh–shit,” you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning as your pointer and middle fingers circled your wet clit under the covers of your bed, your legs spread open, the soft cotton of the sheets grazing softly at your inner thighs as you imagined your fingers being one of Father Dave’s, as you imagined him next to you, with his arm above your head as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear and nibbled at your neck while his other hand played your clit like a master pianist. You imagined the hardness of his erection pressing patiently on the skin of your hip, wetting it with pre-semen, making your body burn with the feeling of his warm naked body beside you.

As your other hand played with your nipple you imagined his eyes taking you in, you imagined his lips on your skin, were they soft? you bet they were, and you bet as well his hand would be surprisingly rough for a priest.

“Jesus, fu–fuck.” the knot inside your lower belly exploded with the thought of him and his hand and his body and his lips and his priesthood and you came with a silent scream that made your ears ring for a few seconds and your legs tremble on the bed.

As you hazed out, ready to fall asleep again before your alarm went off to go to work at the church, you felt that familiar guilt cripple inside you and settle in your chest, warming up and leaning against your heart.

Dave was panting, he fisted his hand as he leaned on the tiled wall of his shower and his other hand moved desperately on his cock. The water was still warm, and he closed his eyes shut as he imagined it was your hand on him, giving him the pleasure he was seeking, as he imagined you were behind him, your lips brushing against the wet skin of his back, your free hand around his chest, gliding softly at his skin, making him whimper with your touch.

It was so early for him to be so hot over you again; it wasn’t good for him to give into these desires he had and had been praying so hard and so much to get rid of.

He didn't want to keep doing it and he surely didn’t feel good after it, but his body ached for you, his chest turned every time he thought about you, every time he saw you around the church, he felt the deepest, hottest desire for you and your hands and your body and he just couldn’t help it.

His hand gripped and pumped as fast as he could and he came with a silent groan, opening his eyes as he finished milking every drop of his seed and watched it mix with the shower water and go down the drain. Along with the decency and morality that was left inside him.

You heard your name being said, and you turned around as you finished picking up your things from the small desk you used to teach the catechism; you saw Mrs. Vega, the church custodian, a small, old lady that had known you forever, walking towards you.

“I’m sorry dear, but I want to ask you for something.” she said when you smiled at her.

“Of course, Mrs. Vega, what is it?” you put your small book inside your bag and hung it from your shoulders.

“You see, the little twins that help Father Dave are sick today,” you frowned at the mention of Father’s Dave name but let out a sad sigh at her statement, “and they can’t come help with the service, you’re the youngest of the teachers, could you do it?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and felt your stomach churn inside you at the thought of standing next to the altar for a whole service.

“Me?” you asked, your voice in a high pitch as Mrs. Vega reached for your arm and tugged you to walk out of the chapel and into the navel of the church.

“Yes, dear, remember only the youngest get to do it.” she obviated, pulling you with her to the transept and up two steps to the sanctuarium “you only need to hand him the communion things and the holy water, I will prepare everything for you.”

“Why don’t you do it?” you asked in a whisper, not daring to take a step further closer to the altar. Mrs. Vega turned to look at you, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Since when are you shy, girl?” she asked with a teasing smile “I remember you singing in that kiddie choir we used to have and doing it terribly,” you chuckled at the memory and bit your lip “it’s only until the boys get that bug they got out of them.” she palmed your arm, and you breathed in deeply.

You looked up at the crucified Jesus above the altar and silently begged him for anticipated forgiveness.

Dave almost cursed when he saw you standing next to the altar as he walked across the navel.

The thought of who would replace Bobby and Chris on their altar duties didn’t even cross his mind as he was more worried about praying for the boys and sending them some sweets and pleading for the cleansing of his soul after the incident on his shower earlier that morning.

As he stepped up to the sanctuarium your eyes locked on his and he noticed you lips parting when he nodded his chin once at you, he noticed the way you swallowed as you nodded back and for a brief second, his imagination ran wild and made him believe you felt the same way as he did about you.

Even if it was the wrongest thing to think about.

It was like torture.

An hour of torture.

You got to see him kneel behind the altar and kiss the white pressed cloth softly as he stood, as you wanted and wished to be the altar’s cloth he pressed his plump lips on, he crossed himself and you mimicked his movements. And for a brief fraction of a second, as he opened his arms to the sky, you saw him looking at you out of the corner of his eye. And his eyes burned in your skin, they made you feel like your chest was aflame.

The communion time arrived, and he turned to you as you grabbed the chalice with the wine, his eyes locked with yours and you felt them weigh heavy on your body.

Dave couldn't concentrate, he felt on his side the way you were looking at him. It was heavily distracting for him to have you there, in his space, so close to him.

His hands brushed yours when he took the chalice from you and he stood there for less than a second, his fingers on yours. His soft touch and warm skin made your lips tremble with the emotion that touching him gave you. You felt a shiver go up and down your spine and the small hairs of your nape rose as his hands trapped yours.

You caught your lip between your teeth as he broke the contact and you knew he noticed; he looked at your lip as you bit it, and you blushed under his and God’s gaze.

You watched him and he felt you observing him as he prepared the wafers and wined them inside the chalice.

Your throat knotted when he lifted the cup to the sky and you felt your mouth dry as he brought the rim to his lip and his neck strained while he took a sip of the sacramental wine.

Because of the closeness you could see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed the wine, you noticed a small drop of the crimson red liquid escape from his lips and the way he trapped it with his tongue settled deep inside your belly and leaked through your sex.

The pain of the greatest guilt you’ve ever felt in your short life appeared again and clawed its way inside your chest and to its now usual spot right next to your heart, you were struggling to keep your thoughts at bay; you were looking at Father Dave, right in front of you, doing what he dedicated his life to, and you were imagining him using his hands on your body instead of handling the instruments of the church.

Would he touch you like that? would he treat you with the same delicacy as he treated the body of Christ? would he caress you as softly as he did the chalice? would his mouth be warmed with your taste as it was by the wine he drank?

Dave turned to you and he saw you clutching your hands together, you walked towards him slowly, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you moved, almost as if air went through you, as if instead of giving steps your feet barely touched the floor because you were floating.

Everything slowed down, the music of the organ in the balcony, the prayers of the congregation, even the way he moved slowed down so he could focus on your face; on your sweet eyes, those that had brought into him the feeling of humanity, on your soft skin that had scorched his hand when he dared brushed his fingers on it, on your lips, those lips that he couldn’t pray out of his head.

He lifted his hand with the wined wafer, and even the way those holy lips of yours parted was slowed down.

Your eyes connected with his and Dave felt it in his body, deep inside his stomach, the temptation, the whispers of his mortal body as it reacted to your actions; he put the wafer between your lips delicately and pushed it inside your mouth, and then, as if by the grace of God in the heavens, you closed your mouth while he did it, and your lips wrapped softly around the pad of his finger as he pulled them away from you.

And just like that, the world started moving at its usual pace.

His skin tasted sweet. And you spent the rest of the service thinking about what other parts of him would taste like that.

Would his neck taste the same if you kissed it? would his chest feel like that if you nibbled on it? would his lips be that warm or would they be warmer?

Dave’s finger was burning.

He wanted to chop it off his hand just to stop feeling that flesh-eating guilt of enjoying your lips, your soft, warm lips around it, touching his skin, wetting it with the slick of your mouth.

After the service ended and Dave blessed the congregation, he saw you rush to the exit and he felt the sting of the guilt and the sadness. He wanted to talk to you and offer his apologies before you went home.

Sunday 4.

You weren’t there.

And Dave missed your eyes on him.

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”–Romans 12:1.

Sunday 5.

As soon as you walked into the church you felt the eyes of all omnipresent beings on your body. As if the desire that burned deep inside your body left marks all over your skin, that could be visible for all those that looked carefully enough.

You heard your name behind you and jumped slightly, startled. You turned around and felt your blood fall to your feet.

“Father Dave,” you muttered, more to help yourself acknowledge the fact that there he was, standing in front of you, out of habit, his white tab collar was the only piece of his attire that hinted the fact that he was a priest. You tried to control your body as you felt instantly that flame inside your chest beginning to spread.

“You weren’t here last week,” he said, hesitating to step closer to you “are you okay?”

You nodded a few times and bit your lip to stop it from trembling.

“Are you sure?” Father Dave asked, and you dropped your eyes to the floor and saw him give a couple of steps towards you, your breath hitched and your entire body began to shiver when you felt his hand on your arm “I’m sorry.” he whispered.

“What?” you looked up to see him and you could notice his pained quirk, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed and his lips… those lips you had spent all but two weeks imagining printing themselves and making marks on your skin, on a sad, downwards line.

“Can I please talk to you?” he said again in a whisper and you opened your mouth to reply, but only air came out, “please?”

His deep brown eyes were on yours and you felt your chest turn by the feeling of having him so close. You nodded, and he turned to the sides, as if he was making sure there was no one there, and guided you to the sacristy.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a bit altered when he opened the door and let you in first, followed you and closed the door behind him.

“I just needed to be alone with you for a minute,” he clarified, you let your eyes wander around the small space where he got ready every day for the services instead of letting them settle on him, because you knew being that close to him wouldn’t help your situation at all “I wanted to apologize.”

You frowned and looked at him. He had his back almost glued to the door and his hands together, his thumbs fidgeting with each other.

“Apologize for what?” you muttered, and he sighed.

“I’m–I make you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry.”

Dave felt stupid telling you that, but it was his truth; he spent every free moment of his days when you weren’t near him thinking maybe it was because of him. It would make sense, that you didn’t want to be there because you didn’t like his closeness, that you didn’t want to be there because he was taking advantage of his position to steal glances and give furtive touches.

He understood, but you were an excellent woman, devoted and committed to the congregation, and he knew he needed to stop or you would leave and he would never see you again. And he couldn’t have that.

“You aren–you…” you babbled, and then the look he gave you made you lose your words.

His eyes were all over you. And you could feel them on your skin, how they took you in, how they navigated through your body and every inch of you was immediately on fire.

Then he looked at your face and you swore you could see in his brown eyes the deepest form of devotion there was. And your mouth was agape and your eyes filled with tears and suddenly he was in front of you and his hands were orbiting your face.

“Can I touch you?” he said, and you nodded.

He cupped your face, and you felt his warm, rough hands scorching your skin as you closed your eyes. His warmth started mixing with your own and you could feel him inside you already. It was as if everything you needed in life was already there.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” you whispered, closing your eyes as his fingers started caressing the skin of your face, tracing your features “I swear you don’t”

Dave let out a sigh when his thumb traced the edge of your lips and he so wanted to lean down and take them in his. There had been so long since he last kissed someone and he, for a split second, forgot everything about him and the only thought in his mind was you.

“I don’t?” he asked under his breath as a tear rolled down your cheek and he brushed it off with his knuckles, you shook your head and opened your eyes and he felt his heart fill with the purest love he had ever felt in his life “you swear?” you curled your lips up and nodded twice.

“Can I tell you something?” you muttered, looking up at him and losing yourself in the depths of his brown eyes.

“Always.”

You allowed your hands to slide to his shoulders and you let out a relieved sigh. They fit perfectly.

“Yo–you are…” he nodded his chin, his hands still cupping your face softly as his eyes studied your face, you let out a trembling sigh and grabbed as much courage as you had left within you “you are the man I’ve been thinking of all this time.”

Dave widened his eyes and the movements of his hands stopped, he looked at you, searching for any hint of mischief or lie, searching for something that could tell him you were lying, that you were playing with him. But there was none.

“That’s why I wasn’t here last week,” he heard you say as he felt his heart burn with the flames of his desire and love “I was embarrassed after what happened at the communion.”

You looked at him for a second, waiting for the rejection, waiting for him to tell you what you already know, that he can’t for you what you wanted him to be, that he can’t give you what you wanted as his duty was with God and not with the mortals, let alone with a woman.

Father Dave had resigned to the pleasures of the mundane world; you knew that, but you also knew he deserved to know, even if nothing would happen.

“Am I?” he asked you, bewildered after such confession, you nodded and moved your hands to cup his face, a gesture that made him close his eyes. You wondered when was the last time, if ever, he had been touched like that “we can’t” he replied, opening his eyes and leaning in to you.

You could feel his breathing mixing with yours as the implications of his words fell on you.

“We can’t” he repeated, pushing his forehead to yours as you trembled under his touch.

“You want to?” you asked him and Dave asked for guidance in his mind as you started crying and wetting his hands. He nodded, and you sobbed.

“I can’t” he whispered, and you shook your head as he looked at you pouring your feelings from your eyes.

“Kiss me.” you pleaded, looking into his brown, deep eyes. Making him frown.

“What?”

“If you’re not gonna give me anything, at least kiss me.”

His face quirked from confusion to pain in an instant, and you gripped the hold on his face.

“Please, Dave.”

Dave sighed at the way you whispered his name without calling him a father, and deep inside him he was grateful. With you he didn’t feel like a man of god, with you, letting him touch you and touching him back, he only felt like a man. Like the man he never got the chance to be.

“I–I” he started, and you shook your head. Dave looked into your eyes and all the air he had stored in his lungs left his body in a hurry, you were the most precious being he had ever seen, and for a second, he wanted nothing but to make worth the fact he had you in his hands “shit.” he said under his breath.

Dave brought your face up to him and printed his lips on yours, stealing the little air and the close to no coherence you still had in you. You let out a soft moan out of the surprise and out of the feeling of your entire body warming up to his temperature.

His lips were as soft and as wars and better than you had imagined, they were a bit dry and hesitant on yours, but the contact of them with yours made you feel like you were floating away from the realm of the living.

Dave didn’t want to stop kissing you. He didn’t remember the last time he had kissed a woman, and in that moment he wasn’t kissing any woman he was kissing you; the precious being that had been in his mind for weeks and that had never left.

Unsure of his movements, he let you take control of the contact and soon enough you were sliding the tip of your tongue along the seam of his lips, Dave let out a surprised grunt and opened his mouth slightly of you, and you took his lower lip with your mouth. And he let you kiss him all you wanted, enjoying the contact of your slow, wet, warm lips on his less experienced ones until he was sure his lungs were screaming from the lack of air.

When he broke the kiss, he left a small one on your forehead and pressed his lips there and you closed your eyes to feel him settle inside you

“I’m sorry.” you whispered to his neck. And he nodded slightly.

“Me too.”

“But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”–Matthew 5:28.

Sunday 6.

Your knuckles grazed softly with the sacristy door and you heard the muffled noise of the latch and the door opened.

“Hi,” you smiled and Dave looked at you up and down “got your text.”

“Come in.” he motioned his hand for you to hurry and you turned your head to both sides and walked into the sacristy, closed the door behind you and slid the latch.

Immediately after the door was locked, you felt his hands on your waist and his chin on your shoulder.

“This is why you texted me?” you teased and he moved to let a kiss on your jaw.

“I missed you.” he muttered and turned your body around for you to face him.

“You didn’t.” you smiled at him and wrapped your hands around his neck, grateful for the apparently deliberate choice of him to take off his tab collar.

“Yes, I did, I missed you all day.” Dave leaned towards you and took your lips in his, already knowing, after less than a week’s practice, how you loved being kissed.

His lips were as warm as they always were, his tongue barely present if not just to taste the sweetness of your lipstick, his hands always steady on your waist, and at the end, his forehead on yours, just taking in your breaths with his.

“Mass starts soon.” you said, and he nodded, sliding his hands to your middle back to wrap you closer to him.

“I know.” he left another brief kiss on your lips.

“You gotta get dressed.” you murmured against his lips.

“I know.” he muttered back and kissed you again.

“Want me to help?” you asked under your breath, just for him, as if you saying it as low as you could would stop God from listening.

“Yes, I would love that.” Dave replied and gave into another deep kiss that stole both your breath and made you want to stop the time so you could kiss until your lips fused together.

“C’mon you need to get ready.” you broke the kiss and stepped away from him, making him smile. You wandered around the sacristy and found his tab collar. You sighed and took it in your hands.

Dave looked at you and noticed the way you looked at the soft plastic piece, he walked towards you and raised his hand to grab yours. As you felt his hand on yours; you turned your head to look at him and smiled softly, and you moved your hands, raising them to carefully lift the collar of his shirt and clasp the piece around his neck.

“You okay?” he asked in a whisper, you nodded and bit your lip at the sight of him in front of you.

Dave moved and walked to the small table against a wall with a large bowl of water and you gazed at him as he washed his hands and whispered a few words. You leaned onto the wall just looking at him go to a small cabinet near the opposite corner and took a white, folded linen garment, which he unfolded and you recognized as the long robe he used under all his attire.

He slid it off and whispered another prayer again as he let it fall and graze his ankles. His eyes went to you and you smiled at him, he next grabbed a green square that you also recognized and you walked to him and took it out of his hands.

“Let me do it” you whispered, and he nodded, you unfolded the long stripe that was the stole and found its middle, Dave crouched a bit to help you and you let it fall around his neck over his shoulders.

“Return to me the stole of immortality,” he whispered, looking at your eyes, your throat dried at the deepness of his voice “which I have lost in the sin of my first parent and although I, unworthy,” he continued and took your hand in his “approach thy sacred mystery grant to me everlasting joy.”

You gripped his hands and felt your throat knotting around itself.

“Why are you praying to me?” you asked under your breath. He cupped your chin with one hand and brought you close to his face.

“You’re holy.” he whispered and left a soft kiss on your lips.

“Stop it.” you chastised him and he shook his head, giving you a soft smile that you reciprocated immediately.

You turned to the table and saw a long, golden cord and you took it.

“Not that one.” he muttered, and you frowned.

“Why not?” you saw him taking a deep breath as he took it from your hand and left it back on the table.

“The cincture… it means chastity and continence.” he replied under his breath and you let out all the air of your lungs as he took his chasuble and put it on without looking at you.

“Dave.” you called, and he lifted a hand to you as he said the last prayer. When he finished, he looked at you and as if he read your mind, he smiled at you and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered, taking you again in his hands and pulling softly so your head rested on his shoulders “don’t apologize please.”

“I need to,” you mumbled against the light fabric of the green chasuble “I’m keeping you from your vow.”

Dave grabbed your shoulders and pulled you away from his body, his hands slid to your face and you gripped his wrists as he brought your face to his.

“You’re not doing anything, my love,” he muttered the last words directly on your lips as he stole a few kisses from your trembling mouth “you’re perfect,” he panted out and you shook your head “I’m doing this because I want to, please understand it,” he kissed you again, a bit more desperately “you’re the most divine creation I’ve ever laid my eyes and hands upon,” he whispered rapidly on your lips “and I want you to be mine.”

You gasped as the words left his mouth, and he gazed at you.

“Dave...” you started, but he didn’t let you finish, he wrapped his arms around you and brought your body to his, tightening the embrace as he thought of the implications of what he just asked.

Dave lifted his eyes to the ceiling and for the first time in years, with you slowly wrapping your arms around his waist, exactly over the place the cincture was supposed to go around, and the sweet aroma of your perfume inundating his senses, he felt really close to heaven.

“I want you to be mine too.” you whispered into his ear, and he smiled, leaving a kiss on top of your head.

“How beautiful and pleasant you are, O loved one, with all your delights!”–Song of Solomon 7:6.

Sunday 7.

You stirred on your seat again, the organ was playing the latest song before Dave would bless the congregation and wrap up the service and you were nervous.

You glanced at the crucified Jesus above him and you felt his eyes on yours; you felt him shove his holy hand on your chest and as the last notes of the song inundated the navel, you felt your throat sting with the green tint of your deep guilt, but at the same time, the rest of your body drown with the red warmth of your love and desire for Dave.

Is it worth it? you heard inside your head and your immediate response was yes.

Eternal damnation in exchange for a few hours of love. It was condemnedly worth it.

The service was over and you stood up with the rest of the congregation; you talked with a few people on your way out of the church and slowly and patiently you waited for everyone to disperse.

You walked around the gardens outside the church and slid between the gate that marked the beginning of Dave’s small house inside the church grounds. You rummaged around your small bag and pulled out the key he had given you earlier and with nervousness and the familiar guilt settled next to your heart; you let yourself into his house.

You turned on the lights. The space wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small and everything around smelled like him. For a priest’s home, the place lacked religious imagery, and you automatically chastised yourself for thinking about his priesthood again.

You sat on the loveseat next to the door as you waited for him and got dragged inside your head again; you talked about doing that throughout the week and you had agreed it was something you both wanted. But your head sent you through an unwanted train of thought and you sat there, thinking about the future. Something you hadn’t talked about.

After all, he would still be a priest and you would still be a young member of his congregation. You could spend time with him and let you love him and let him love you as much as you two wanted, but in the future… what else was there for you?

You could never ask him to leave his habit for you, you could never ask him to leave his life for you, you could never do something like that to him. But you were unsure if something like that had any other path but failure.

The door opened and there he was, unclasping his tab collar and dropping it on the end table as you rose from your seat and walked to him. He smiled at you and his hands found his place on your waist.

“You’re here.” he said, not surprised but relieved.

As he took off his attire in the sacristy and walked to his house from the church, he had a few minutes to think about what he was about to do. He didn’t allow himself to overthink it because if there was something he knew was that he wanted it; he wanted it more than he had wanted anything in his life. He couldn’t explain it even if he tried, but he knew there was something about you that made him feel human, there was something about you that made him feel like he belonged somewhere, maybe the way you talked to him, maybe the way you kissed him, maybe the way you always seemed to understand the moral and spiritual dilemma he was in. He didn’t know, but he knew that he loved you, even if he wasn’t supposed to, even when he wasn’t allowed.

And as he thought of it, love was one of the laws of the God he represented, and he felt it deeply.

“I’m here.” he pulled you to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded.

“Thank you.” you closed your eyes and bit your lip, shaking your head at him.

You felt his lips on yours as they re-discovered your kisses and his hands roamed to your middle back to press your chest to his.

You were amazed by how fast he had learned how you liked to be touched, how you liked to be kissed and caressed, as if he was just trying to commit to memory everything you ever wanted and he wanted to do it to you to please you.

Dave slid his hands from your back down to your hips and moved you softly to the side, without breaking the kiss he snaked his hands to the back of your thighs and lifted you. You smiled in his mouth and wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked to his bedroom.

When you crossed the doorframe you started leaving small kisses on the skin of his neck and he sat on the edge of his bed with you in his lap, you were already feeling the hardness growing inside his pants and his hands started grazing up and down your thighs as he let you taste his neck how you best pleased.

Dave was in a haze. He understood then the power of physical touch combined with deep love; it enhanced the sensations, the flame inside his chest was burning him from the inside out with a deep desire he was sure he had never felt before, and you were there, moving slowly on his lap as you devoured the skin of his neck and kissed slowly around his jaw.

“Dave,” you whispered as you licked his earlobe and pulled out a shiver from him, he hummed in question “touch me.”

He didn’t hesitate on questioning where, his hands roamed all around your body, they were big and warm and they were rough; you cupped his jaw with both hands and took his lips in yours with a wet, open-mouthed kiss that he followed as his hands snuck inside your shirt and you moaned softly at the feeling of skin to skin.

You moved out of his lap and stood up in front of him, Dave let out a soft whine at the sudden loss of your weight on his body but stopped when you moved his legs open and stood between them.

“Take off my shirt, please.” you told him, not in an order but he obeyed, he grabbed the hem of it and lifted it, you raised your arms and felt his lips on your rib side as you finished taking it off and dropped it on the floor behind you.

Dave put his hands around your torso and licked your skin experimentally, which made you gasp at the feeling of his wet tongue against your skin and he smiled to himself, doing it again and nibbling on the same spot softly.

His hands slid to your waist and without being told to he unbuttoned your jeans and dragged them down slowly, his eyes directly on yours. You smiled at him with your reddened, kiss-swollen lips and he felt your smile settling inside his lower belly, his cock twitching inside his pants.

You put your hands on his shoulders as he helped you out of your shoes and jeans and when you were there, standing in front of him only in your underwear, he swore there wasn’t anything more divine than your body.

You sank on your knees and your hands landed on his thighs, Dave’s throat clutched and his chest turned as you smiled at him and your hands slid to his belt, you raised your eyebrows as if asking for permission and he nodded a few times, leaning backward into his hands to give you space for you to do whatever you wanted to him.

You unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, his breath hitched when your fingers hooked to the hem of both his pants and his boxers, and then he lifted his hips for you to pull them off him. Dave smiled when he saw you bite your lip at the sight of his hard cock resting on his abdomen. It did something unexpected on what he thought was his dead ego, but he loved the way you looked at it.

“Take off your shirt.” you said and again, without it being an order, he obeyed. Unbuttoned it as quickly as he could and slid it off his shoulders as you leaned over his lap and took his erection on your hand, your thumb grazing softly the tip and he threw his head back between his shoulders.

“Oh, my love.” he sighed out as you started pumping slowly and when he closed his eyes, you licked the underside and wrapped your lips around the tip, making him gasp.

You took it slowly, enjoying the taste of his pre-cum as it came out of him, pumping the rest you couldn’t fit inside your mouth with your hand.

Dave forced his eyes open and moved his head down to watch you, he shivered when he found you already looking at him; he moved his hand to your face and with his knuckles caressed your cheek, making you smile with his cock inside your mouth.

For him, looking at you on your knees between his legs was like looking at a sacrosanct painting; your lips around him taking as much of his length as you could, your saliva dripping from his dick to your hand, bobbing your head up and down as your eyes, those holy eyes that never left his, it was a pleasure he never thought he would get in his earthly life.

He felt himself close to cumming, and he pushed your head softly upwards, you rose from your knees and clashed your messy lips onto his and he wrapped his arms around your waist, his large hands roaming around the skin of your back. His fingers played with the back of your bra and he broke the kiss for a few seconds to unhook it and help you slide it off, you smiled when he sighed at the sight of your breasts in front of his face and he pulled you flush against his head, taking a nipple in his mouth.

The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue around the soft skin of your nipple made you cry out his name softly and arousal gathered between your legs. One of his hands rested on your other boob and kneaded delicately as you fisted his hair in your hand. Dave moved his mouth to your other nipple and lapped at it before trapping it inside his mouth, you pressed his head to your chest and let out a moan when his teeth grazed your nipple as he released it.

“I wanna taste you.” he muttered against your boob and you smiled at him, nodding.

He moved you softly to lie down on the bed; the sheets were cool and soft and he stood on the edge, taking you in again, studying your body.

He leaned down to you and you opened your legs to make space for him; he hovered over your body and kissed you again, softly, as if you were back in time to the first kiss he gave you in the sacristy, as if he wasn’t about to devour your body.

His kisses traveled from your mouth to your neck and your chest, he left one in each nipple, making you laugh, he left a trail of them over your belly and one over your belly button. As he kissed your abdomen and your thighs, you looked at the ceiling and you smiled at whoever was watching.

Dave took the hem of your panties on his fingers and you lifted your hips for him to slip them off you, you lifted your legs and he unhooked them from your ankles, grabbing your calves and opening your legs again. He gulped when he saw your wet, expectant pussy right in front of him and looked at your flushed face. He leaned down and left kisses around your thighs without breaking eye contact.

“Guide me.” he whispered and left a kiss right over the hood of your clit, making you moan.

You nodded once, and he looked at your pussy, opened the lips gently with his fingers and blew on your slick folds, making you shiver. He flattened his tongue and licked from your slit to your clit, tasting your arousal, moaning at the richness of it.

You slid your hand to your clit and looked at him.

“Here.” you mumbled, circling a few times to show him how. He had told you he had sex before his ordination, because he didn’t want to go into his holy orders without having experienced it and wondering for the rest of his life what he had missed, but he said it wasn’t as good as he thought it would be and before you, he thought he would never know. So you had to show him what you wanted and what you liked because his experience wasn’t vast.

Dave did as you showed and you moaned out loud, the pads of his fingers were warmer and bigger than yours and he was handling you so delicately you were already on edge.

He kept licking and circling your clit and then, without a second thought, he moved his fingers away and started circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh m–my god,” you fisted his hair, pushing his face into your pussy and he pressed your hips onto the mattress, looking at your face with your mouth opened in pleasure and your eyes closed shut “Dave ke–keep doing that baby,” you pleaded and he did it, and started playing the pad of one of his fingers on your slit, making your hips buck slightly he saw you pant and smiled when you slid your free hand to play with your nipple so he added a second one to play with your entrance “inside, put them inside.” you said under your breath and he pushed his fingers slowly inside your cunt, making you let out a long moan of his name, he started pumping and curling his fingers inside as he had imagined you doing it all those weeks ago while touching himself in the shower and closed his eyes to hear you moan his name as he brought you closer and closer to pleasure.

He moved his fingers faster inside of you and hand fisted and pulled his hair as your moans became tamed screams and he thought of them as the most pious symphony that he and only him had the sacred pleasure to hear.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulders as you felt the knot inside your belly explode from his ministrations and you chanted his name over and over as he worked you through your orgasm. You panted for a few seconds and opened your eyes to the sight of Dave licking his fingers clean. You smiled at him and released his hair to motion him to come to you; he hovered over your body again and you put your hand on his nape to bring him to you; you moaned softly at your own taste and you felt it smile on your lips.

“What?” you asked in a whisper.

“Did you like it?” he asked back on your lips, you nodded and cupped his clean-shaven jaw, leaving a deep kiss on his lips.

“I loved it,” he smiled, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and felt his cock brushing lightly against your folds. “make love to me, Dave.”

You saw his smile widen, and it was his turn to nod to you, he kissed you again while his hand worked on aligning himself to you; he slid the tip through your folds and you gasped on his mouth when he found your entrance and started pushing in.

He did it slowly, no rush; he wanted to feel you in every inch of his cock; he wanted you to feel him and every ridge and vein of him as he found his home in you.

You nipped at his lip as he bottomed up and smiled when he stayed there, inside you, enjoying the wait for your body to acclimate to his, you looked into his eyes and you felt it.

You felt how you two fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

As if his body was made for you and your body was made for him.

It felt right.

It felt sacred.

Dave started moving at a calmed pace and you with him, quickly finding a rhythm where your hips moved almost in unison and he thrusted into you deeply every time he moved. He was supporting his weight on one arm next to you while the other gripped your hip and helped you with the tantalizing dance you both were having.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck when your hands moved to his back and you pulled his body down to yours, his chest gliding yours and his hips circling as he thrusted faster into you.

Dave moaned into your neck when you scratched his back as his thrusts became pounds.

“Harder, please, baby, harder.” you whispered into his ear and he listened, driving into you as fast as his body allowed, the noise of his skin clashing with yours and the wetness of you leaking around his cock flooded the room and his moans grew louder and you dug your nails into his skin chanting his name as you got closer and closer to your second release.

“Yo–you’re a goddess,” he muttered into the skin of your neck as his cock grazed your cervix, his hand wrapped around your hips and he lifted your ass for him to thrust deeper, making you moan his name loudly “you’re m–my go–goddess.”

You slid your hands to his ass and fisted his buttcheeks, pushing him further into you.

Dave felt his orgasm closer and closer every time he drove into you and your warm walls started to clench around him with the closeness of your orgasm, he nibbled the skin of your neck and clutched his eyes shut tighter when his body started to stiffen as he pounded into you; he muttered your name a few times like a prayer he never knew he needed to make, and it sounded right, your name in his voice as he drove himself and you to climax, his own name on your sweet voice as you begged him for everything he had in himself, it was all right, it was all correct, there was nothing wrong, how could he had felt so guilty about it when it was the most perfect, most righteous, most sacred, most heavenly action he could do.

You in his arms, your hands on his body, his cock inside your cunt, you wrapped around him begging him to cum inside you, everything about it was all he could have asked for to feel like he was in heaven. He had almost said no to feel it, and he bursted inside you at the same time as you broke in pieces around him, thinking that he would rather live his life with you around him than his afterlife in heaven.

“I love you.” he muttered against the skin of your neck and you opened your eyes after riding the high of your orgasm and looked at the ceiling.

You frowned when you heard his words and when you remembered what he said to you before he came, and as you turned to the side to see him that red warmth you had felt earlier disappeared almost completely and the bright green taint of the deep guilt inside you washed over your body and your soul.

He looked at you and narrowed his eyes. His expression changed as he realized you weren’t going to answer his confession.

“Dave,” you whispered and his face changed, his brow furrowed and you saw his jaw tighten “what did we just do?”

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[maddiwrites]

Precious Life

Pairing: JJ x reader

REQUEST (From anon): could you write a jj maybank imagine where he and the reader are together, but she pushes him away due to her mental health. she has insecurity issues after her last boyfriend and her bestfriend passed a few months ago leaving her horribly depressed. finally, she opens up to him and its just super fluffy and he showers her in love and support.

Note: Thank you so much for the request and I’m so sorry it took me a while to write, but hopefully you like it. I kinda suck at fluff, so I’m sorry if it’s not enough fluff. Let me know what you think! 

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of death of a friend, mental trauma from a past relationship, depression

You don’t know when it happened - whether it was overnight or throughout the past few weeks. Unlike everyone else who was excited about the summer finally beginning after what felt like the longest school year of your life, your days felt darker as you dreaded the upcoming season. You use to love summer - hell, you thrived during the hottest months of the year. You loved outdoor dining, surfing, beach parties, going out on the boat in the marsh with your friends. But now the thought of doing those activities made you want to vomit.

After your best friend passed away only a few months ago, you lost interest in all those activities. Because they all reminded you of her. She was the one who brought you out of you shell and pulled you out of your dark place when the world felt too unbearable to live in anymore. And now she was gone. Just like that. Life is so precious, you remember people telling you that at her funeral. They weren’t wrong. But you never thought your life could compare to the one of your beautifully made best friend.

Her birthday is next month in the early weeks of July. Her mother wants to hold a small party as if she was still there to celebrate. Of course she wants you there, but you don’t know if you’d be able to handle it. A birthday party for a dead girl? What an obvious reminder that she’s not there. It’s going to be the first birthday you spend without her. The tradition of getting smoothie bowls and going to the local zoo and finishing the night off with a bonfire and beer cans you stole out of your parents fridge is completely destroyed. Gone just like she is.

The only person making your miserable life a little more bearable is your wonderful boyfriend, JJ Maybank. Despite only being together for about two months, he became your closest friend. Your best friend would have loved him and would even be impressed that you went for such a bad boy. Your type usually consisted of stuck up boys with egos bigger than their daddy’s bank account. Sometimes you picture a life where your best friend and JJ knew each other. They’d probably be best of friends. Your friend would be weary of him at first, but JJ would work his usual charm and win her over in seconds. It’s what he did with you.

You met him after getting really close with Kiara when her dad hired you as another waitress at the Wreck. You remembered the day he first walked into the restaurant with his friends. You felt his eyes on you the entire time. Feeling bold, you walked over to his table and asked to borrow his phone. You opened his snap chat app and took a selfie with the two of you and said, “Here’s a picture if you want it to last longer.” And that was how the love story of JJ Maybank and Y/N Y/L/N started. JJ still has the picture saved as his Lock Screen. It makes you smile every time you see it.

Your life with JJ was nearly perfect. What started as a flirty banter became something serious. Kie knew JJ was in deep because he never complained about how slow you wanted to take the relationship. Aka sex. Usually JJ is the kind of guy who will go get what he wants. And if that’s a quick lay, that’s what he’ll go searching for. Someone that won’t make him work too hard for it. But with you? It was different. Sure he wanted to explore that part of the relationship with you, but only when you were ready. It was hard for him some days, especially when you wore his hoodies or kissed him so deeply that he swore his skin was on fire.

Although JJ has been nothing but a respectful KING about your decision to wait, you can’t help but feel guilty about keeping him waiting. It’s not that you didn’t want to - because god did you want to. But it was hard for you to give someone all of you like that. Part of you blames that on your own insecurities and the other part knows it’s trauma due to your past relationship. You never told anyone the kind of vile and disgusting things your ex boyfriend would say to your face. Well, you confessed to your best friend on the night he broke up with you. You physically had to hold her back by her hair to keep her from setting his house on fire. She tried to make you see that everything he said about you was wrong. Dumb, fat, whore, useless, poor, ugly. You wanted to believe her, but it was like your ex had physically tattooed the words onto your skin and it was hard to see anything else. When things were getting heated between you and JJ and you felt his hand dip under the thin material of your t shirt, you would pull away, afraid that he would feel the rolls on your stomach. You never let him see you without makeup on. And even wore baggy clothing so you wouldn’t have to worry about showing too much skin. You didn’t want him getting the wrong impression.

JJ tried asking Kie about it. JJ is smarter than people give him credit for. He had a feeling that your choosing to not have sex ran deeper than just not being ready. Which is totally fine but he wanted to be there for you if you needed help. Of course Kie had no idea. But just like JJ, she noticed you pulling away from the group slowly. She thought maybe it was the stress of finals as the end of the school year wrapped up, but then summer came around and the less you did.

“She’s been off, right?” JJ asks Kie. His legs bounces up and down anxiously and he chews on the nub of his thumb nail. “Do you notice it too?”

Kie doesn’t know how to answer. Of course she wants to be honest with her best friend, but she also doesn’t want to hurt him. “I mean, she’s been kind of distant with us. Maybe she’s been busy. I mean she’s gotten a few of her shifts covered in the last two weeks.”

JJ shakes his head. “I don’t know. I can’t shake off this feeling that it’s something more than that. Something I’m missing. I mean...” he sighs and takes his fingers through his hair. “Do you think it’s me? Did I do something? Maybe she feels pressured by this whole sex thing-“

“No. Of course not.” Kie says. She knows JJ would never make you do anything you don’t want to do, and he would never make you feel guilty about it. “You should talk to her about it next time you see her. I mean, I could bring it up too but I think it would be best coming from you.”

JJ nods and accepts this answer from Kie. It doesn’t make him feel any less anxious about the state of your relationship but at least he’s not crazy for thinking you’re pulling away.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He doesn’t see you for another week. You claimed that you’ve been busy with work and college prep. JJ didn’t buy it but he also didn’t push it. He saw you when you showed up at his window at the Chateau. 

You’d come after having one of your episodes - one where you can’t sleep or eat or even focus on one thought. You don’t know why you came to the Chateau. You knew JJ would be here but you didn’t think he’d be able to help you. No one ever can.

“Hey,” JJ flicks on the lamp from the bedside table as he watches your figure squeeze through the window. “What are you doing here?”

You shrug. “I - uh. I don’t know, exactly. Just wanted to see you, I guess.”

JJ tilts his head and narrows his eyes at you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” You lie. 

JJ nods, but he doesn’t believe you. “Then come here.” He opens up his arms for you to fall into. When you do, he pulls you in close with your head laying on his bare chest. You focus on his steady heartbeat and his warm arms around your body. You miss this. Being with JJ whole heartedly - mind and body. Recently it’s only been your body - your mind off somewhere else. 

“Did I wake you?” You ask softy. 

JJ kisses the top of your head. “No.” 

When you close your eyes, you picture your friend again. Her smile and laugh. Things that should have made you happy. But they don’t. Not anymore.

You don’t remember when or how it happened - how you ended up being below a hovering JJ as his lips peppered your skin. You remember starting the heavy make out session, hoping to distract yourself from the depressing thoughts of your dead best friend.

However, the deeper you got into it, the deeper you got in your own thoughts. First about your friend and then about your ex. What he would say if he were the one above you - “I thought you were going to the gym?” “You didn’t shave?” “You could use some sun.” - His voice rang in your head like a screeching record and you couldn’t do it anymore.

“Stop,” you mumble softly enough that JJ doesn’t hear it until you physically push him off of you and say more loudly. “J, stop!”

As his back hits the mattress again, he holds his hands up in surrender. He didn’t realize he was doing anything wrong and his heart races with the thought that maybe he hurt you or had gone too far.

You quickly pick up your tossed shirt and bag while avoiding all kinds of eye contact with him. You felt embarrassed. It’s not his fault that you can physically feel every skin roll on your body or think you can smell every bad odor radiating off your skin. JJ has never been anything but a prince to you since you started dating. You felt bad that you couldn’t give him what he wanted. Sex should be a normal part of your relationship yet you couldn’t seem to give him your all just yet.

“I’m sorry. Did I-“ JJ starts to apologize but you cut him off.

“No. I’m sorry. I should go. I should have never come -“

“Hey,” JJ sits up and tries to reach for you, but you yank your hand closer to your body when his fingers graze your skin. JJ frowns. “You don’t have to go. We can just go to sleep. Or I can sleep on the couch.”

You pause at the bedroom door with your back to him. You squeeze your eyes tight to stop the tears from cascading down your cheeks. You hate this. Feeling like another burden to someone else. Not being able to give the one you love everything they want. It’s not fair. It feels like everyday your days just keeping getting darker and darker as if the sun never rises. And you don’t know how long you’ll be able to take it.

“Y/N...” JJ softly calls out for you. He can see the tension in your shoulders and your knuckles turning white as you clench around the door knob. He knows something isn’t right. That there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to what you’re going through. He’d never force you to tell him anything. But he wants you to feel comfortable enough that you know you have the option to talk if you wanted to.

“I’m sorry, J...” your voice cracks which makes JJ’s heart break a little more. Still with your back to him, you shake your head. “I can’t be what you want me to be.”

“Y/N -“

You finally turn to look at him. “You deserve someone who will give you everything you want. Someone who makes you happy - someone who is happy.” You sniffle back the tears. “I’m sorry. That’s just not me.”

Tears prick at JJ’s eyes. He wishes he can say he is surprised, but he honestly saw this coming. You’ve been distant and hard to read. He thought you were falling out of love with him for weeks. But that doesn’t make this any less hard to hear.

“Don’t do this,” JJ shakes his head. “We can work this out -“

“I can’t do it anymore,” you shake your head as one lone tear falls down your cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You rip the door open and stumble through John B’s house before JJ could say anything else. You throat feels on fire as you bite back a heart wrenching scream from what you’ve just done. You probably ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to you. No surprise there, you think. Nothing in your life seems to ever go as planned.

You run home until your legs feel like they’re literally on fire. By the time your back hits the mattress of your own bed, your muscles feel like jello, and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to walk again.

You cry into your pillow until the world around you fades to darkness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Its been about two weeks since you last saw JJ and the Pogues. You didn’t think it was possible, but without them, your life somehow felt even emptier. Days feel like years. Your body feels so heavy, it’s hard to get out of bed most days. You can’t remember the last time you showered. Your skin on your face feels dry from all tears that have been shed. Some days you want to pick up the phone and call JJ or Kie, just to hear their voice. But you don’t. Because you don’t want to feel like a burden to either one of them. You broke up with JJ. You’re not their problem anymore.

With your head tucked deep into your pillow, you feel the corner of your bed dip as if someone had just sat down. You figured it was just your mom checking in on you again for the hundredth time. She doesn’t say anything and you don’t acknowledge her either. 

Your phone beeps with another text message from JJ. You peek your eye open at your phone and slowly reach for it. You hesitate opening the message, afraid that whatever he has to say will only break your heart and make you feel like an even worse human being.

“You’re seriously not going to answer that?” The person sitting on your bed says, making you snap around to face the girl who is for sure not your mother, but your best friend. The same best friend who’s buried in a cemetery fifteen minutes away from your house. 

She looks exactly how you remember her. Long beautiful hair that frames her perfect jawline. Tan almost glistening skin that radiates off the sunlight that shines through your window. Eyes sparkling with life and mischief.

You look at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. You were truly at a loss for words. Confused was an understatement. It didn’t make sense.

She laughs at your reaction and shakes her head. “Do you need a minute?”

“I don’t - how - am I - am I dreaming?” You stutter. 

“No I’m just the prettiest zombie you’ve ever seen,” She says sarcastically and holds her grin. You blink at her. “Yes, you’re dreaming. Well, kinda.” She stands up and faces you. “You’re definitely dreaming but I’m in control of visiting you in your sleep. Kinda cool, right? It’s a ghost trick I recently learned.”

“I’m officially going crazy,” You say.

“You’re right. You are going crazy,” Your friend rounds to the other side of the bed to come face to face with you as you sit up and rub your eyes. “But not because you’re seeing me. Because you’re not seeing JJ.”

You drop your hands at your side and glare at her. “You don’t even know him.”

“I know of him,” She says. “He’s a Pogue. A hot one too. And he’s head over heels in love with you. What else do I need to know?”

You shake your head. “It’s complicated.”

“Why? He loves you and you love him.”

You flip your comforter off you body and walk past the girl who loves sticking her nose in other people’s business. You always told her it would get her in trouble one day. But you secretly loved that she was so nosy. Because she cared and always gave the best advice. 

You walk towards your dresser and stare at yourself in the mirror above it. The bags under your eyes are dark and your skin pale. Your hair is greasy from your lack of washing it and you’re starting to realize you’re beginning to smell.

Your friend sighs and sits back on your bed. “He’s in your head,” She says glumly.

You scoff, “I think if anyone’s in my head, it’s you.”

She glares back at you. “You know what I mean. Y/Ex’s/N. He’s still tormenting you after almost a year of not seeing him.”

You shake your head. “No I’m -”

“Come on, Y/N. You can’t lie to me. You’re still hiding your laugh behind your hand because he called it obnoxious. You hide yourself under baggy clothing and you won’t have sex with JJ because Y/Ex’s/N said you were bad at it -”

“Stop.”

“Clearly you weren’t bad at it since he got to come every single time. If anyone was bad at it, it was him.”

“Y/BFF’s/N.”

“What? It’s true,” She shrugs. That’s what you always loved about her. She was unapologetic. She meant what she said every time no matter what. You wished you had her confidence. She sighs and moves over on the bed so she’s closer to you. “Y/N, you deserve to be happy,” she says more softly. “And JJ makes you happy. Why are you pushing him away? Why can’t you let yourself be happy?”

“Because you’re not here!” You finally kick down the wall that’s been building in your head since your friend’s death. You never talked about her with anyone. Not even with her own family. She was your person - the girl who was going to stand by your side at your wedding, be the god mother to your children, your shoulder to cry on, and your therapist when you needed to rant. And now she’s not here and it feels wrong living the life you were supposed to live together. “How can I be happy when you’re not here?”

“Y/N...”

“No,” You cry. “It’s not fair. You’re supposed to be here. I can’t pretend like everything’s normal when it’s not. This was supposed to be the best summer of our lives and then you just left.” You snap your fingers. “Just like that. Out of nowhere. And if that can happen to you then it can happen to -”

You cut yourself off, afraid to say what you really were thinking. You didn’t want to put that kind of energy into the atmosphere because the thought haunted you every night when you were alone with your thoughts. You never thought you could lose someone like you lost your best friend. You didn’t think that would ever happen to you. But it did. And it put life in perspective for you. You don’t think you’d be able to live through another loss like that so falling for JJ was scary to you. Because if something ever happened to him, you wouldn’t know what to do. 

“Hey,” She stands up to embrace you in a hug. You sob into her shoulder and squeeze her tightly against you. You don’t want to let her go. She feels so real. You’re actually touching her. “Look at me.” She eventually pulls away to look at you. She offers a sad grin and pushes your hair out of your eyes. “I’m sorry I died. But you get to live! You know how jealous I am that you have the ability to eat smoothie bowls every day and go surfing and date cute boys and go on road trips with your friends and family? You don’t even know how good you have it. And on top of that, you have the hottest guy on the island fawning over you and you’re too sad about me to even realize it. I don’t want you to live this way -” she motions to your messy room. “I want you to take advantage of the life you have. If I can’t live it, then you have to live it for me.”

“I don’t want to do it without you,” You cry.

She shakes her head. “You’ll never be without me, chick. I’m always going to be with you. Besides, I like JJ. You’d be stupid to let him go.”

You bite your bottom lip and feel a rush of heat climb up your neck to your cheeks. “He is really good to me.” You knew your friend was right. She was always right. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” She says. You both turn when you hear someone knock on your door. She looks back at you and smirks. “That’s my cue.”

“Wait -”

“Don’t worry, chick. Remember what I said. I’m not far away.”

You gasp awake wrapped in your sheets with dried drool stuck to your chin. You sit up and look around frantically for any sign of your best friend. But she’s gone. So is any sign that she might have been here. You rub the dried saliva off your chin with your fingers and sigh up at the ceiling. It felt so real.

Your mom lets herself into your room and smiles at you. “Oh, good. You’re awake.”

“Yeah...” You say slowly. You think back to everything your best friend said to you in your dream. How lucky you are to live a life that she can’t. For the first time ever, she was jealous of you. For a life you’re taking for granted. Although it was hard to be happy without her by your side, you knew she didn’t want you sulking around for her. Some days are going to be hard. That’s just the inevitable. But you have the ability to make it easier. It all starts with you. “I think I’m going to take a shower.”

“Really?” Your mom says, surprised by the effort you’re making so early in the morning. 

“Yeah,” You grin and walk past her to get to your bathroom. Today is going to be a new day, you say to yourself as you let the warm water rain over you. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two days later was your best friend’s birthday. A day you’ve been dreading for weeks. Your heart felt heavy and your mind clouded as you moved around your room getting ready for the day. As much as you wanted to stay in bed, you knew it wouldn’t be what she wanted. You haven’t spoken to her since that night, but you knew she was quietly watching over you. 

You throw on a pair of sports shorts and a long sleeve t shirt. The day is cold and foggy so you knew the cemetery would be cold. Your parents offer you a small smile as you walk out the door with a bouquet of flowers and a blanket.

You slowly come to a stop as you’re walking to your car parked on the street in front of your house when you recognize a familiar truck parked behind it. JJ steps out of the driver’s seat and approaches you with his hands tucked in his short pockets. He smiles sheepishly at you and glances down at the flowers. 

“Hey,” He says. 

“Hey,” You shuffle awkwardly on your feet. Why did he have to look so good? He’s dressed in a Coors Light tank and cargo shorts. His golden hair is perfectly quaffed and his skin perfectly sun kissed. “How are you?”

“Good, good,” He nods. He hates that your relationship has resulted to this. Awkward small talk. “I’m sorry. Am I catching you at a bad time?” He motions to the flowers. 

“Um,” You glance between the flowers and him and shrug. “No. I was actually just going to see a friend. Would you like to come?” You remember all the things your friend had to say about JJ. How he loves you, you love him, and he makes you happy. You messed up by breaking up with him, but maybe you can make it right by explaining everything to him. 

“Oh,” JJ looks surprised that you’re offering time to hang out. He was afraid you were going to push him away and shut your front door in his face. He didn’t know what was going to happen. He just wanted to see you. “Yeah. Definitely.”

You smile. “Great. But we have to stop for smoothie bowls on the way.”

JJ laughs. “No problem.”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t awkward being alone with JJ after all this time. The two of you spent the car ride talking about the other Pogues and what they’ve been up to in the past couple of weeks. It was bittersweet talking about them because of how much you missed them, but you hoped that they would accept you back into their friend group after you explained to JJ why you’ve been so distant. 

“Uh, Y/N.” JJ says when he parks the car.

“Yeah?” 

“This is a cemetery.”

You can’t help but giggle at his apprehension. “I know. Come on.”

JJ carries the flowers and you carry the brown paper bag that holds your three smoothie bowls and a blanket. You lead him through the wet grass, past dozens of tomb stones until you find where your best friend peacefully lays. 

JJ stays silent as he looks between you and the tombstone. The years etched onto the tombstone indicate that someone your age is buried here. He quickly puts the puzzle pieces together and tries to read your facial expression. Your sadly grinning at the tomb stone when you feel JJ’s eyes on the side of your face. 

You lay the blanket down and offer half of it for him to sit next to you. He does but stays quiet, waiting for you to explain whenever you’re ready.

“This is Y/BFF’s/N,” You introduce her. “She was my best friend.” JJ nods and lets you continue as you stare at the tombstone. “She died a few weeks before we met.” You pull out the smoothie bowls and pass one to JJ and place the other one in front of the flowers placed by the grave. “Today’s her birthday and  we had this tradition that we would get smoothie bowls every morning of our birthday.” You pop open the lid of your bowl and push around the berries laying on top with your spoon. “I know I owe you an explanation.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to...”

“Trust me,” You smile at him, “I do. She would kill me if I didn’t.” 

You told JJ about the mental toll her death had on your life. Even with JJ by your side, you felt her missing presence heavily all day every day. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy in your relationship with JJ, it was just that something was missing and it was something you couldn’t bring back to your life. Because of her loss, you fell back into a depression you once experienced towards the end of your last relationship. You told JJ about the mental anguish your ex left you with and why you don’t feel comfortable opening yourself up to him, both physically and mentally. You promised it wasn’t because of JJ but because of your ex and the things he said to you. With your friend’s birthday coming up, everything was weighing you down mentally and you didn’t want to hinder JJ’s life any longer. You told him you thought breaking up with him was best for him so he didn’t have to deal with your problems and he can find a girl that makes him happy. You regret ever walking away from him that night. Your friend was your person, but now so is JJ. You want him to know everything about you. Good and bad. He deserves to know the truth.

“She would’ve liked you,” You brush your fallen tears away with the back of your hand. “You guys are alike in a lot of ways.”

“Yeah?” JJ smiles at you. “How?”

“She made me laugh and always pushed me past my comfort zone. She challenged me to do more with my life. And she never gave up on me,” You grin up at him. “I’m sorry for pushing you away.”

“You don’t have to be,” JJ says. “I get it. No one deserve to lose a friend like this. I don’t know what I would do if this happened to John B or Pope or even Kie.”

“I still love you, J. And I want to give you every part of me. I just...need some help opening up.”

JJ sets down his smoothie bowl and turns to face you. His hand caresses the side of your face and pushes your hair back behind your ear. “Hey....we can take it as slow as you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

You smile at him. “So, you wanna try this again?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

JJ leans in to kiss you on your lips. Butterflies erupt from your stomach and fireworks shoot across every nerve in your body. When you eventually pull away, you’re smiling because even when your best friend isn’t here to physically push you, she has her own way of getting into your head and making sure you don’t take the life you have in front of you for granted. And you couldn’t be more grateful for that.

Unbeknownst to you, your friend watches from a far with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. Slightly shaking her head, she says to you, “You’re gonna be just fine, chick.”

[kenmei]

-ˏˋ ALREADY YOURS! ˊˎ-

♡ gn!reader x suna rintarou

cw: angst, slice of life, slightly suggestive, rin gives mixed signals, fwb!au, college!au, reader lowk got their shit together

synopsis: maybe in the next few chapters from now, he’ll be yours. but as of right now, you need to let yourself heal.

wc: 800+

notes from mei!

tumblr didn’t put this in tags and i 😁🔪 also happy 500<3

his eyes narrow and a frown settles on his lips as he looks down at you, laying in his bed with a resolve he didn’t even know you had.

“don’t say shit like that.” he spits, “ever again.” he adds, sliding out of bed to find his clothes that are scattered on the floor. they’re mixed with yours.

rin tosses your clothes onto the bed, in the empty spot next to you. a sign he wants you to leave.

you oblige.

silently, you slide into the jeans you know he really likes, and the top he complimented a over month ago—said it was cute; that the colour suited you.

as you’re opening the door, you hear him call your name. you turn your head.

“don’t come here anymore.”

you want to wince at his deadpan voice—the fact he spoke so coldly with no remorse, but you only nod as you slide out of his doorway, muttering a quiet “sorry” when you click his door shut.

you’re sliding on your shoes as the front door swings open, atsumu comes into view and he grins at you. “hey!”

you muster smile he seems to buy. “hi. what’s up?”

he scratches the back of his neck, you note his hair is less brassy. he must’ve used the purple shampoo you told him to buy.

“not much, really. you wanna eat or something?” he asked, holding up a plastic bag that smelt like heaven itself. you shook your head.

“i’m good.” you wave your hand upon hearing another door open then shut, knowing the only other one in the house is suna. rushing out, you give him a quick goodbye, knowing that this’ll probably be the last time you’d speak to him. “bye, atsumu.”

a part of you already knew it wasn’t a good idea to tell suna you like him. but at this point, it hurt too much to keep going on with what you two had.

and you know that confessing, would mean a clean break. he wouldn’t text you anymore, or even spare you a glance in the hallways.

all because sunarin’s a commitment-phobe.

and part of you, strangely, doesn’t even mind.

perhaps it’s because crushing on him is a nightmare itself, your head running miles just to understand an inch of his. because on the days he’d stay the night, he’d fiddle with your fingers, chest pressed to your back with his chin hooked over your shoulder.

he’d tell you stories set before you came into his life—amusing stories that made your lips curl upward, images or videos always included with his little anecdotes.

he’s sweet, a kind person with a little too many issues.

but most of the time, his text were half-assed and lazy—dry replies and one-worded answers that would show you his true motives.

sometimes, you’d see him looking at pictures of them. their recent pictures on instagram and holding pause on their story for a little longer than normal. he’d have uncharacteristic softness harbouring in his dark eyes. a gaze you wished belong to you.

sometimes, you’d comment teasingly, thinking that if you acted like you didn’t care, there would come a day where you truly didn’t.

that day never came, but now that you’re free of him, it hurts a little less to think about it. about them. about your sad situation.

sad not because you know he’d never reciprocate, but because you could never tell if his cold façade was a bluff or not. trying to figure out how his head works had you loosing yourself, had you giving him front row tickets to a show he would never even give a shit about.

guessing what his gazes meant, wondering why his eyes looked softer sometimes, and wondering if maybe that was a sign that he’d be likelier to stay—you hated all of it; having to play silent guessing games of whether his more delicate feelings with you were genuine.

maybe him softening up to you over time was only you being a delusional freak in love. perhaps, his eyes were never softer sometimes, and he only told you those stories because he doesn’t have anyone else who’d care to listen.

and it’s painful. but you like to remind yourself it’s only painful right now.

but even then, it still hurts to know that now, he completely ignores your presence—that his walk-by game is so strong it has you wondering if you even knew him as the boy who stole your chuupets and aimlessly played with your hands.

it hurts to know that he’s made your tiny bed feel too big, and the times you’ve laughed your hardest were with him.

(or the fact that when he kissed you, he was probably thinking of them, but for your sake, you like to think otherwise).

you hate your reality of being his, but knowing he’ll probably never be yours.

so you do your best to move on.

[bobohu4eva]

Pink Lace - Bonus

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut

Summary: Baekhyun decides to surprise you with an expensive new dress, so you make sure to give him his money’s worth

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: smut - slight sugar daddy themes, sex with no condom, aftercare, it’s pretty fluffy tbh

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @strawbaeri-s @xiuweetbbh @bbhile

Masterlist

“Oh my god, that is gorgeous.” 

“You want it? I’ll buy it for you, as an early Christmas gift, and to celebrate the semester ending and me not losing my job.” Baekhyun said as he smiled down at you, one hand snugly laced through your own as the two of you strolled down the street, window shopping. You had stopped in front of a display for a particularly beautiful dress.

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s way too expensive.” It was true, it was expensive. Baekhyun lived quite close to a high end shopping neighborhood with lots of fancy restaurants and designer outlets, where the two of you could now finally walk around in the open for the first time, since the semester had ended just a day earlier. 

Baekhyun raised an eyebrow, “How many times do I have to remind you, money is not a problem.”

“No I know, I just feel bad, that’s still a lot of money, at least to me.”

As you said it you kept staring at the dress. It was perfect. You also knew it must cost at least as much as a month of your rent (which Baekhyun also paid) judging by the store window it was in. 

“The way you’re staring at it is just making me want to buy it for you more you know.” 

With that you pouted and turned around, away from the window and pulled him away with you. 

He chuckled, but looked back, making a mental note of the exact dress and store. 

It was lovely, finally being able to go out together like this. So far, most times when you and Baekhyun would see each other it would be at his home, where you would sometimes stay for days at a time even. It was nice, but actually being able to go out and eat at a restaurant together, or go on a walk, was new and felt amazing. 

To celebrate not getting caught dating while you were still his student, he’d taken you out on a nice dinner at a small Italian restaurant with only two tables, where you’d been served at least 5 different courses, each more amazing than the last. The wine had been amazing as well, leaving the two of you giggling in each other's arms as you slowly walked back towards his home. 

“This is nice.” You hummed as you leaned your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes and letting him pull you along. 

“Going out like this?”

You nodded slowly into his shoulder, feeling the soft haze of the wine and the soft glow of the streetlights soothing your senses, along with Baekhyun’s touch. It was surprising to you how openly affectionate he’d been, always needing to touch you somehow, whether it was a hand on your waist, or holding your own. He liked to press soft kisses to your cheeks and forehead as well, not caring at all who might see. You never stopped him either, relishing in the feeling of finally being able to do this without having to worry about getting him in trouble. 

“I like it too, I can finally show the world that you’re mine.”

You let out a small laugh and the two of you kept walking until you once again reached his home. He gave you one of his hoodies to change into before the two of you fell into bed together, limbs tangling together until you both dozed off. 

Things had become incredibly comfortable with him. You truly felt like you could tell him anything, and any time you were struggling he always gave you the best advice, unsurprising considering his job. Being around him was so easy, and even after spending days on end together, you wouldn’t get sick of him. He was like a second home to you, warm and reliable. 

You always fell asleep quickly when he was there with you, and you knew he slept better when you were there too. He bestowed you with a sense of coziness and repose that you’d never experienced with a man before, and you knew that your presence brought him great comfort as well. Even on nights like this one when you wouldn’t have sex, just holding each other was more than enough. 

The sex had only gotten better as well. Baekhyun had already far outdone the few men you’d been with in the past in his first night with you, but the more he got to know your body the better it got even. He had every inch of you memorized and knew exactly where to touch you, how to touch you, and what to say while he did it to make you feel like you were losing control, but in the best of ways. You simply let him take you along for the ride as he commanded your body as if it was an extension of himself, and it was euphoric. 

The next morning Baekhyun drove you back home since you had some errands you needed to take care of. You went about your day, and in the afternoon when you finally returned home and walked into your room you saw an unfamiliar box sitting on your bed. 

You opened it to find that inside was the dress from the night before that you’d seen and fallen in love with in the store window. 

A small gasp left you. He’d seriously gone and bought it. Up until now you had only let him pay your rent and buy you food. It was a first to be receiving such an expensive gift from him since you’d started dating and despite how much you loved the dress you still couldn’t help feeling guilty. 

You snapped a picture and texted it to him followed by several question marks. 

Baekhyun: (4:37pm) Don’t try it on until I can see too! 

You dialed his number and to your relief he picked up right away. 

“Baekhyun I can’t accept this, you have to bring it back.”

“I thought you might say that so I got rid of the receipt. It’s yours, you really seemed to like it and I do too so bought it because I wanted to see you in it and I knew you’d like it. And you told me gifts were okay!” 

You sighed. You technically had said that. 

“Okay, but I’m impatient I wanna try it on already.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

He hung up before you could respond, so you made yourself comfortable on the couch in the living room as you waited for him.  

Eventually you heard a knock on the door and opened it to see your boyfriend looking back at you with an excited look on his face. 

The dress was nothing modest. It was short and tight, hugging your body in all the right ways and the silky fabric shimmered beautifully. The color complimented your skin tone perfectly and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric, you had to admit, you loved it on you. It fit surprisingly well and showed off your assets wonderfully. There was no doubt in your mind that as soon as Baekhyun would see you, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you. You were starting to understand more and more why he’d been so keen on seeing you in it, despite the price tag. 

You sat yourself on your bed, crossing your legs and leaning back, before calling for him to come in. 

When he walked into the room he was silent for a good long moment as his eyes ran up and down your body, before walking closer to where you were seated to pull you up off the bed. 

“Do a spin for me?”

You happily obliged, slowly turning to give him the view he was looking for. Once you were facing him again you couldn’t help but blush with the way he was looking at you, a wide grin on his face and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“Worth every penny.” You heard him say softly. “So fucking pretty.”

“How much was it?” 

You still felt guilty. It was beautiful, and it was clear to you how happy he was to see you wearing it but in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help asking yourself how much it had really cost him, if it was really worth whatever ridiculous number it might’ve been, just for some fabric that you’d likely only wear a few times anyway. 

“Don’t worry about that.” He murmured as his hand made its way from your shoulder, down your arm, eventually resting on your waist. His eyes had moved up from your body to scan over your face as you looked back at him. 

Despite his constant reassurance, money was still a subject that made you a bit uncomfortable. You’d never had a lot of it growing up and things like designer clothes always seemed too outrageously priced to even consider buying. To spend that amount of money on something so non-essential was still crazy to you, and the fact that he did it so casually for you felt foreign no matter how much you tried to rationalize it. You just couldn’t help the guilt that pulled at your heartstrings. 

 “You look so beautiful, why does your face still look sad? Do you not like it anymore?” He said, voice full of concern. His slender fingers found your chin, tilting it back up to look at him after your eyes had drifted down to the floor. 

You shook your head. Of course you loved it, it was gorgeous and fit you perfectly. Hell, it was probably the nicest thing you’d ever seen yourself in. It was your guilt that had you fidgeting and averting his gaze. 

“It’s just a lot of money, I’ve never owned something like this and I can’t help feeling like it’s too much, I’m sorry. It is beautiful though, even more so than I remember.”

“All that matters to me now, is that you like it. I already bought it, that can’t be undone, and I wouldn’t want it to be anyway.  As long as I get to see my beautiful girlfriend smiling looking this pretty, I’m happy.” 

He was doing it again. He was looking at you with that smile that could break through every layer of your soul and warm you from the inside no matter how down you might be. The amount of love and affection in his eyes brought a small smile to your lips that you couldn’t fight even if you tried. 

“You know I love you, right?” He said as his smile widened in response to your own. 

You nodded, “And I love you too.” 

He pulled you in for a kiss and you easily let him. He’d gotten to know you even better and always knew what to do or say to relieve whatever worries it might be that you were having. The way he spoke was full of maturity and understanding and he was attentive when it came to your emotions as well, being able to read you exceptionally well. Sometimes he’d figure out what you were feeling before you even truly understood your own emotions. He knew both your body and mind like the back of his hand. 

“I wish I could at least repay you somehow.” You whispered as you pulled back from his lips. 

He raised an eyebrow and took a step back so his eyes could roam across your body again. “I can think of a few ways...” 

You quickly caught on to what he was saying. If you couldn’t already see it on his face, his hand made it crystal clear when it reached up and rested on your chest, thumb running over the bare skin of your cleavage.

It was funny to you that after he’d been so adamant about not being your sugar daddy or anything like that, here you were, in an expensive dress he’d bought, with him asking for sex as a form of repayment. A few months earlier you never would’ve allowed this to happen, but after having spent more time together and knowing how pure his intentions were you couldn’t find it in yourself to really care. 

Finally you decided that if he wanted to buy you pretty dresses, just to be able to take them off of you, you’d let him. He looked like he was on cloud 9 as he pulled you closer, keeping one hand on your chest as the other rested over your ass. There was no way in hell you would deny him this. 

“You want to take it off me?” 

He nodded, “Not yet, though, you look too good like this.”

When he sat down on the edge of your bed with his legs spread and pulled his belt off, you knew what he had in mind. You positioned yourself between his legs and sat on your knees, so you were on eye level with where you knew he wanted you. As you started to work on the button of his jeans, you could feel how hard he already was. 

Again and again it surprised you how easily you could turn him on. You thought that because he was a bit older than most guys you’d dated that his sex drive would be lower, but that was definitely not the case. It was higher than yours, but you didn’t mind since he was good at getting you in the mood even when you were tired or stressed. It would happen regularly that he would wake you up during some ungodly hour of the night with a boner digging into your ass. He simply insisted that it was your fault and that he couldn’t help himself. As horny as he was, nine times out of ten you would gladly allow him to have you too. Especially when he was so good at pleasuring you.

Once you were able to get a hand into the waistband of his jeans, you palmed him through his underwear and he let out a groan as he leaned back on the bed. 

“You like the dress this much?” You asked with a smirk and reached into his boxers, wrapping your hand around his already very hard dick.

“Yes” he sighed, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, as he leaned back in his elbows before opening his eyes again to look at you. “Fuck.”

Once you freed him from the confines of his boxers you leaned in to place an open mouthed kiss on his tip, licking up the pre cum that had started to gather.

“Don’t tease.” He groaned and your eyes looked up to meet with his, giving you a good look at his already very blissed-out expression.

When you finally slid him all the way into your mouth you noticed his head fall back and heard the delightful moan that slipped from his lips.

You always appreciated how vocal he was in bed. Whether it was dirty talk, cursing, moaning, or a combination of the three, he was usually making some sort of noise. You hadn’t come across a guy like that before and getting to hear his reactions to you was always a confidence boost. As much as he was able to get you riled up, you could get him just as weak for you as well. To hear him panting and moaning due to your actions turned you on more that you’d admit as well.

With his moans egging you on you started to bob your head up and down, feeling how he’d hit the back of your throat with every movement. When you looked up at his face you found his lip caught between his teeth, and beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

A strand of hair fell in your face and once he opened his eyes to see he moved one hand to gently gather your hair to hold it back.

“God, you look so good like this. So perfect. Feels so fucking good.”

You knew how weak it made him to see you like this, with your lips wrapped around him. He moved your mouth almost as much as he loved your pussy. Almost.

His grip on your hair tightened and he pulled your mouth off of him.

“Stand up for me.”

You did as he asked and stood back up between his legs. He sat up and his hands found your waist, running up and down the sides of the dress before reaching around back to find the zipper.

He slowly pulled it all the way down and you let the dress slip off you, pooling at your feet leaving you in only your underwear since it wasn’t convenient to wear a bra with.

You didn’t think it was possible for you to ever get used to the way he looked at your body. Ever since you’d met him at the club he always had a special way of looking at you. The way his eyes sparked when they met your bare skin was unlike anything you’d experienced with another man. The more you’d gotten used to sleeping with him, the more impossible it became to be shy with him when he looked at you like that.

You bit your lip to try to conceal your smile when he pulled his shirt over his head, showing you his smooth, toned torso. Although he wasn’t particularly large or muscular, he was slender with just the right amount of definition to still make your mouth water.

Before you could react his arm was hooked around your waist and he pulled you down on top of him. You let out a surprised squeal which he muffled with a kiss and next thing you knew you were being rolled onto your back as he laid himself between your legs.

You felt the fabric of his jeans against your thighs and decided they needed to go. As much as you loved sex with him he could be quite impatient, often only shoving his pants down just enough to be able to fill you, not wanting to bother with taking them all the way off.

luckily for you, today when you tugged at the fabric and let out a whine and he got the idea, rolling off you to pull them off leaving him completely bare.

He quickly found his way back between your spread legs, this time with his tip nudging at the wet spot on your underwear.

"Please" You begged, not exactly sure what you were asking for, just needing something to relieve the fire that was burning in the pit of your stomach.

"Please what?" He asked, moving a hand downwards to feel the soaked fabric with his fingers.

Instead of answering his question you let out a slur of incomprehensible curses and pleas when his finger started to rub over your clit through the soaked fabric.

“I’m gonna have to start buying you new underwear too if you keep ruining them like this.” He said as he smirked, relishing just how turned on he had you.

“Take them off already.” You finally breathed out between moans, but he was enjoying himself too much to give in so easily.

“Hmm, I wonder just how wet I can make you.”

You let out another whine when he still didn’t give you what you wanted, still only touching you through the wet fabric, but now with more pressure. One hand made its way to your chest, kneading and pinching at the sensitive flesh as his mouth covered the other side, sucking purple marks onto the soft skin before finally taking your sensitive bud between his lips.

You could feel even more moisture pooling beneath the fabric, making it even wetter and you knew he could feel it too. The wet spot was growing and you so desperately wanted him to finally take it off of you to touch you for real.

Eventually Baekhyun became too impatient himself and stopped fighting the urge, pulling the soaked fabric aside to run a finger through your folds, feeling the moisture on his fingertips.

“Completely soaked.” He whispered before pulling your last remaining pieces of clothing off your body and spreading your thighs for him to see what was waiting for him between them.

When his thumb ran over your clit he could see you clench and unclench, making more liquid drip out of you.

“God your pussy is so perfect. Always so tight as so wet. So fucking good for me.”

“Baekhyun please.” You begged, reaching for his dick to try and speed things up, but he was having a great time seeing you become more and more desperate for him and didn’t want it to stop quite yet.

Instead of giving you what he wanted, he moved back over you, kissing your neck as his hand got to work on your clit.

He’d gotten to know your body so well, it took less than a minute before you were shaking and crying out his name as your orgasm came over you.

Baekhyun had grown very fond of this arrangement. After a few weeks together he’d began insisting on making you come at least once before fucking you, since he said it made you even tighter and wetter, and he liked to see your face while it happened. Usually you appreciated it, but on days like today when he would tease you so ruthlessly you almost wished he would just get on with it and fill you. However you also knew that after being deprived for so long, it would feel even better once he finally did give you his dick.

Once your breathing slowly started to even out again and you were no longer shaking, you felt his tip slip between your soaked folds, bumping against your clit. Your hands tangled themselves into his soft hair, bringing his face down to yours for a kiss.

He pulled away, trailing kisses down the side of your neck before whispering in your ear, “Turn around for me, sweetheart.”

You did as you were told and arched your back, sticking your ass up in the air for him.

With one knee planted on either side of your hips he pulled your ass up and into position. Before leaning over you, sucking a ‪mark onto the skin of your shoulder before sinking himself into you with one smooth thrust.

You gasped and buried your head into the pillow beneath you to muffle the lewd moans that were tumbling from your lips, but he quickly wrapped a hand around your neck to pull your face out of the sheets.

“Don’t try to hide those beautiful sounds from me baby.”

He slowly pulled himself out of you, only to fully sheath himself back inside, setting a brutal pace.

After a few moments of going on like that, he decided he wanted more. An arm was wrapping itself around your waist once again, this time bringing you upright so he could snake an arm around to squeeze your breasts as well while he kept drilling in and out of you.

His teeth dug into the side of your neck, sucking and biting at the skin there before moving to your earlobe.

The feeling was completely overwhelming, as usual. Once he was inside you, there was no more rational thought, the only thing filling your head being your own pleasure and the sound of your combined moans and curses as they echoed throughout the room.

He took your body and commanded it in a way that left you little more than a weak, desperate, panting mess, completely at his disposal. When you were wrapped around him, you belonged to him completely, and trusted him to do whatever he wanted with you.

When his other hand moved between your legs to flick at your sensitive bud once again, you knew you were close to falling apart. The feeling of his dick rubbing against your walls so perfectly, his hand on your chest, and the other between your legs, was too much. You were quickly unraveling again, this time with much more intensity than the first. Only now, even when you were quivering and moaning and clearly overly sensitive, he didn’t stop.

“You can give me one more, come on baby. You can do it.”

His hips started snapping up into you with even greater force as his hand sped up too. If it hadn’t been for the arm tightly wrapped around you, holding you against him, you definitely would’ve collapsed by now.

“T-too much.” You cried out, but he knew not to listen. Unless you spoke your agreed upon safe word, he knew you’d be able to take it.

You could feel the sweat making your back stick to his chest, and the hand that had been on your chest was now too occupied with keeping you upright, since he knew there was no way you could stay upright on your own. His thrusts only picked up in speed and force but they were growing inconsistent as well, a sign that he was close.

“God, fuck.” He breathed into your ear, because of how tightly you were squeezing around him due to your over sensitivity. “You feel so good like this. Let me feel you, one more time.”

And after a few more hard thrusts you gave him what he wanted, going completely limp in his arms as he pushed into you a couple more times before reaching his own peak too.

Your mind went completely blank and vision went white as the last orgasm hit you like a bus, leaving you moaning incoherent curses combined with his name. To your relief you felt his warm cum fill you only seconds later, with a broken cry that sounded somewhat like your name leaving his lips as it happened.

Your mind was still empty when the arm around your torso let go, and you fell forward onto the bed. There was no strength left in your body, completely spent after all he’d done to you. You were slowly becoming aware of the layer of sweat that covered your body, as well as the sticky mess that coated your inner thighs, but you didn’t have the energy to care, you just closed your eyes and let the warm fuzzy feeling sweep over your brain in the usual post-orgasmic haze. Only this time, it was even more intense than usual from how many times he’d pushed you over that edge.

“Baby, you can’t fall asleep it’s not even 7 yet.” You heard Baekhyun whisper softly from somewhere above you, but you didn’t respond, mind still too hazy to form words.

Instead of bothering you any further, Baekhyun simply started to rub your back the way he had on your first night together, causing you to hum at the pleasant feeling of his hands working the sore muscles.

After a few minutes of enjoying the little massage he was giving you, you felt him lean over you to speak into your ear.

“I love you.” He whispered before pressing a soft kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Hmmm, I love you too.” You mumbled, finally getting some words to leave your tired body. But those were easy words, ones you didn’t need to think too hard about since they flowed off of your lips so naturally when you were with him.

“Come on baby, let’s get you cleaned up.” He spoke softly before grabbing one of your shoulders and turning you onto your back. Your eyes remained closed when you felt him slip two arms beneath you, lifting you up off the bed. You let your head rest against his still damp chest as he carried you into your bathroom, turning on the water to let it heat up.

“Darling, can you stand for me?” He asked and you nodded. Slowly and carefully you felt him put you down, and you wrapped both arms around his waist, leaning against his chest.

He chuckled and stroked your hair. “I really wore you out today, huh?”

You nodded again, and he pulled you into the shower with him to get the both of you clean.

As he carefully cleaned your tired body for you, a small smile spread across his lips.

He couldn’t help but think that the dress had been the best thing he’d bought in a while, and he couldn’t wait to buy you many, many, more.

[kakaxhi]

Kotaro Bokuto | Us, Always

Pairing: Kotaro Bokuto x Fem!Reader (college au!)

Summary: when Bokuto finds out your ex is pestering you, his immediate response is to pretend to be your boyfriend

Warnings: mild language, creepy exes

Word Count: 1.9k

Your morning was already ruined before they showed up.

As hard as you tried to ignore your ex, they were insistent on talking to you despite you politely - and sometimes not-so-politely - told them to leave you alone. It was a messy break up and they couldn’t get the message that you wanted nothing to do with them.

“I know you have a few minutes before your next class. Let me say something, please?”

“I really don’t have anything to say to you, as I’ve said multiple times. Please just leave me alone.”

With a roll of your eyes, you turned around only to be stopped by their hand holding onto your wrist. The way their hand felt on your skin made you want to curl into yourself. Just before you could say something, another hand came into view.

“Hey, hey, hey! We got a problem here? Don’t bother lying, because I know for a fact [Y/N] has asked you to leave her alone.”

Your ex glared at Bokuto before taking off, but not before glancing at you once more. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding before turning towards Bokuto. You bowed respectively as you thanked him.

“You really didn’t have to get involved though, they usually stray away after awhile.”

“I could see how uncomfortable you were. Ah, I hope I didn’t make you more nervous by knowing your name. We’re in the next class together and I’ve heard you with your friends. I’m Bokuto Kotaro.”

You smiled, a small laugh escaping you, “I know, I’ve been to a few games since one of my friends is on the team with you.”

Bokuto smiled, “Really? Well now I’ll be sure to look for a familiar face in the crowd.”

He motioned for you to follow him, walking with each other to your next class. The conversation continued before class started, Bokuto giving you a reassuring smile.

“Why don’t you meet me after classes are over? I’d love to get to know you better.”

-

“Is your ex still bothering you?”

You nodded, “Yeah, every time you’re not around.”

Bokuto frowned, playing with the hem of his shirt. Once the two of you got to know each other better, you gave him details here and there of your past relationship and your ex. With the more information he received, Bokuto liked your ex less and less. Something about them just irked him, adding onto the fact he hated how they treated you.

“Well, I have an idea. It’s up to you if you want to go through with it.”

“Well, let’s here it.”

“What if we went out?”

You sputtered on your drink, covering your mouth before the liquid went everywhere. Bokuto rushed to help, rubbing your back as he handed you some napkins.

“Sorry, sorry! Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you coughed, “just didn’t expect that. What do you mean go out?”

Bokuto sat back down, “I meant like fake dating. You said your ex only stays away when I’m around, so maybe if they get the idea you’re with me they’ll leave you alone.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position or anything.”

“It was my idea. If anything, I’m tired of them making you uncomfortable. I wanna help.”

“How about I think about it?”

He nodded, “Sure, just know I’m always here. Whatever you need.”

You quickly shoved the butterflies in your stomach away.

-

It was at Bokuto’s next practice game where you agreed. Your ex had been pestering you more when you weren’t with Bokuto and the day just really got on your nerves. Walking into the gym, you found Bokuto and waited for him to notice you by the bleachers. He waved excitedly before excusing himself from the conversation he was having before coming over to meet you.

“Hey gorgeous, what are you doing here?”

You sighed, playing with your fingers nervously, “That plan we discussed the other day? Is that still an option?”

Bokuto pondered for a moment before nodding quickly, “Yeah, of course. Fuck, you look so stressed out. What happened?”

“It’s just been a really long and difficult day.”

He nodded in understanding before pulling you into his arms. Your own circled his middle, hiding your face in his chest. He smiled, giving you a quick squeeze before pulling away.

“Practice is going to start soon. Why don’t you stay and watch and then I’ll walk you back to your dorm? We can discuss things further.”

You nodded, “Sure. Thanks, Bokuto.”

He gave you a sweet smile, “Anything for you.”

He sent a wink your way before jogging back out to the gym floor. You sat on the bleachers, eyes widening every time he hit the ball. Even if you didn’t know the sport well, it was clear Bokuto would make it very far if went professional.

After practice, Bokuto came over to you. He wiped his brow with a small towel, grabbing his water bottle.

“I’m gonna take a fast shower and then we can leave. I can have one of the guys sit out here with you if you want.”

“No, it’s okay. They’re probably all tired. I’m fine, promise.”

He squeezed your hand as he stood, “If you’re sure. My phone’s in my bag if you need something. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

True to his word, Bokuto was out of the shower quickly, his hair still slightly wet when he came out to meet with you. You followed him out the door, laughter filling the air around you as he told you a story from his past.

“You’ll have to meet Akaashi sometime. I think you two would really get along.”

You smiled, “Yeah? Well, maybe we can arrange it. Oh, turn here. My building’s around the corner.”

Bokuto followed you up to your room, glancing around at the little things you had laying around. He stood in the doorway awkwardly as you moved some things around.

“You can sit wherever, my roommate spends most of her time at her boyfriend’s place so we have no interruptions.”

He nodded, placing his gym bag down and sitting besides you. It didn’t take long for the two of you to discuss the plan and whatever boundaries you wanted to have. Bokuto was an absolute sweetheart, as you’ve come to know, and wanted to make sure you were happy with everything.

“Maybe you could come to my games too? I mean, not just for this plan but I genuinely enjoyed having you there tonight.”

“I’ll be there.”

-

You didn’t miss the way people looked at you and Bokuto the next day. People were jealous of both you and it honestly was a bit overwhelming. Bokuto squeezed your hand, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Ignore them, they’re just mad. Whatever they’re saying or thinking means nothing.”

You leaned into him more, your free hand resting against his arm. A triumphant smile made its way to your lips when you spotted your ex looking at the two of you, and you knew the plan was working.

Bokuto stopped in front of your first class, thumb brushing against your cheek once you lifted off of him.

“I’ll see you later, okay baby?”

You nodded, smiling as he planted a kiss to your cheek. His hand slowly left your waist, a smile resting on his lips before going to his own class.

Once again, you pushed the butterflies away, reminding yourself this was all fake.

-

Your plan with Bokuto went on for another month before your ex confronted you both. Bokuto treated you to a date after a hard week of classes and practice. Fake or not, he wanted to treat you well. As the two of you were talking, Bokuto quickly got up from his seat once your ex started walking towards you.

“Seriously? This is getting out of-“

“You don’t shut up do you? I’m here to talk to [Y/N].”

You rolled your eyes, “What could you possibly want now?”

“You’re not actually dating him, are you?”

Your heart started racing, panic rising in your veins, “Uh, yes we are? Are you that dense?”

“Really? Then how come I’ve never once see you two kiss? Is this all a ruse to make me jealous or something?”

You exhaled sharply through your nose before standing, “I don’t know how many time I need to tell you, but I want nothing to do with you. Whether I’m with Kotaro or not is none of your business.”

Bokuto smiled at the mention of his first name, something he wanted to hear you say over and over. He maneuvered his arms around your waist, holding you as he glared at your ex.

“Fine, kiss him and I’ll believe you.”

“Or I could just knock you on your fucking ass and call it a day.”

You shook your head, knowing if he got into a fight he wouldn’t be able to play the big game coming up. Turning around, you face him with a sweet smile.

“It’s fine, Ko. If it’ll get them to leave us alone.”

Bokuto checked to see if there was any signs of you being uncomfortable before he leaned in. Your hands gripped onto his dress shirt as your lips pressed to his. His nose gently rubbed against your own before deepening the kiss. Teeth nipped at your bottom lip before he pulled away, chuckling at your ex’s retreating figure.

“Serves them right. So, are you okay after all that.”

You nodded, “Just glad to have you with me.”

-

Things changed between you and Bokuto after that. It was a few days later when he found himself outside your dorm. You had no afternoon classes that day and he didn’t want to wait until later to see you. He knocked on your door, a soft smiling pulling on his lips when he saw you.

“Hey, I need to talk to you about something.”

You welcomed him in, shutting the door behind you once he was settled. You could see the stress on his features, even as he tried to hide it.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this fake dating thing with you anymore.”

You nodded, “I figured as much. You’ve been avoiding me, I figured I did something to upset you.”

Bokuto stood, placing his fingers under your chin, “You did nothing wrong, I don’t think you understand me. I can’t do this fake dating, but I want to date you for real.”

“Scared me, thought you didn’t want to be around me anymore.”

He chuckled, his arms encircling you, “Sorry, you’re stuck with me. I mean, if you want me around that is.”

You nodded, “As long as you want me, I’m yours.”

Bokuto smiled, “So, does this mean I can take you on a proper date now? Make you mine?”

You chuckled, “Yes, of course.”

“Well that’s good,” Bokuto bent down to kiss you, “because you had my heart from the day I met you.”

The butterflies in your stomach told you, you felt the same way.